late night shennanigans

So it's my first summer Sunday. Summer Sundays are the best because that Sunday night deep breath, oh Lordy it's another crazy week feeling I usually have on Sunday nights suddenly vanishes. Now the sun suddenly disappears and it's like, oh Lordy, I don't have any single thing on the calendar except hang with kids, deal with naps, hang with kids. It's a glorious thought. So the sun is setting and I'm screwing around on the computer and Elie and Sol have both been seemingly asleep for forty five minutes or so. A few times I thought I heard something, but then it was quiet again for a long spell. And then I hear the door creek. And my wild haired girl, picture a jacked up, electrocuted Einstein with a big, pink Strawberry Shortcake band-aid below her eyebrow, shuffles out. She spots some floss sitting by the computer (don't ask...) and says, Uh, Mama...uh, I, I just forgot to floss. So I give her the floss instead of the talking to she'd get on a real Sunday night. Because we're caught up in the novelty of new Sunday mode, I don't really care that much and go gently, go mellow. Let her floss. We hang. Talk to Auntie Hilary on the phone. Tell her about the sorta minty floss. And then I bring her back in the room.

The first thing I notice is that the white noise machine has been turned off. Or rather, unplugged. Then I see that both the Princess and the Cat in the Hat night lights are turned on. I put her in the bed and whisper some sort of terse remark about not playing with the outlets. I then glance into Sol's crib. It's been newly adorned with all sorts of random toys from their room, apparently while he was sleeping. I mumble something about leaving his crib alone, especially when he's asleep and she loudly whispers something about how she wanted to give him all his special babies. I tiptoe out at which point Big Sol must realize there's a party in his room, stands from his sleep, and begins jumping up and down.

Holy goodness. School or no school, won't these children just sleep already?

the end of an era

Today is the last day of Eliana's first year of pre-school. I can hardly believe it. The end of an era. The end of my debut performance as a mother of two. A mother of an infant. The mother of a school girl. My first attempts to be a full-time juggler. And I have to say, I've done okay. Not always graceful, but certainly heart felt. In it to win it. Day after busy, busy day.

I can feel the end of the year exhaustion sweep through my family. I went to bed when it was still light out last night. Eliana could have slept in forever this morning. Rain pelts the ground, sucks the relentless energy out of this time, forces us to surrender until the sun returns. I appreciate the rain today. Gives me a chance to hunker. To finish writing my report cards. To begin to deal with the chaos in my basement. To go inward and reflect a bit before we race towards another season. Spring always feels the fastest. I watch the buds change overnight. My cherry blossoms seemed to last but a day. The lilacs are already losing their scent, turning brown. Just when you settle into a new kind of beauty, the view alters.


Like one minute your girl is two. She ignores her brother for a really long time. She freaks out and can't be reasoned with.

Then that same girl has completed her first year of school, full-time. She's almost four. She adores her brother. They play together for hours. She sees what a gift he is.


And that sweet little baby is a sweet little boy. A boy who can tease his sister right back. Saunter right up with the toy she wants and then fake to the left, a giant, still almost toothless grin on his elfin face. She whines, but laughs. Tackles him down. Gets the object. And he's right back up, going after it again.



Sol remains a boy of few words. But boy can he move. And while there's not a whole lot of room in this house to be heard, there's room for him to be seen. He knows every last inch of the abode, has found items I haven't seen in years from the backs of bookshelves, beneath kitchen sinks, shoved in the bowels of my closet. I adore him.

His sister too. She remains full of more words than I can keep up with. Two languages worth, with songs and dances to accompany her every whim or mood. I wish I had a picture of her in her end of the year performance last Friday. She sang and danced her heart out to Shakira. More than one person came up to me and commented on how into it she was. People who didn't even realize she was mine. But of course she is...

This morning the thought of being at home with both of them all day, every day, for three months felt a bit overwhelming. Then after working my tail off organizing files, negotiating with nine year olds through one last day of listening, reviewing reading test scores, it hit me. I get to put all my energy into just two odd, beautiful little people! And they are mine! I'll have the creativity I need, the patience I need, because it will all be going to them. Shift in attitude. Shift in energy. And while it feels a bit premature and Polyannaish of me to say it...I think we can do it. I think we'll succeed.