Foolish Me

Remember how upset I was that the battery charger didn't work for my camera battery?

Well... I was wrong. It does. I just didn't know how to put the battery in. Ha! Hahaha.

Ha.


Ugh.

End Of The Summer

It is not, actually, the end of the summer. In fact, here in New England, the summer has just begun. The problem is that we have set our calendars and our internal clocks to have this be "Back To School Time." It is supposed to be fall. Leaves are supposed to fall, the air crisp itself, and sweaters and cute plaid skirts emerge from the closet.

But things don't work that way, do they? No, instead, the seasons have shifted. "Summer" as in hot, humid, shorts and T-shirt weather lasts until about October, which is when the leaves really fall and the air crisps. And snow, heavy snow, won't really be expected until January, despite the "White Christmas" songs and tales of early storms.

Sure, Nature surprises. But sometimes I feel as though we expect it to conform to the grid I have posted on my kitchen wall. Pools ALWAYS close in mid-August, they say. Even though the heat and humidity waited until them to show up. And just try buying a cute summer outfit right now. No - this is the time to stock up on sweaters and boots, even though the thought is making me ill because I am so overheated.

I do have to say that I'm looking forward to the start of school. I have been planning, anticipating the details, plotting ways to make things run smoothly - which kid gets picked up first, which day is best for gymnastics, the library, food shopping, the pool, how to get Nick fed and dressed and at the bus stop by 7:50 AM...

Watching Nick get on that bus. THAT is going to be hard. Summer won't be the only thing that's over.

Discomfort

I had a dentist appointment today.

I've posted about my dentist before, but for those that haven't read those entries, let me explain. I found my dentist online while working in Cambridge, when my insurance changed, and I wanted something closer to home. He practices in this little town, in the middle of practically nowhere, in a huge farmhouse. He has no receptionist, or hygienist, it's just him. The waiting room looks like a living room from 1972, except for the large desk and the signs talking about payment. The first time I saw him I sat in the chair and suddenly thought about how my body would be found in the woods years from now...

But I like my dentist. There is no wait. I show up, he's usually ready to go. He gets right to it. I never have to "wait for the dentist" after my teeth are cleaned. Twenty minutes, tops. And he doesn't go on and on about how I need a root canal or gum grafts and such. If I need to do a better job brushing or flossing, he'll say so.

I really hate people poking around in my mouth, so I'm just as happy having it over with quickly. Although if I ever actually need a tooth pulled or need a root canal I may choose one of those places with more people in waiting rooms with a doctor too important to learn your name before putting a hand in your mouth.

But usually, I go alone.

Today, I took my three kids with me.

To make matter a bit worse, and I'm sorry because this is TMI (Too Much Information, Mom) but I kind of had to pee. Only I didn't want to make a big production of bringing the kids in with me, or not, so I just decided to wait.

I'm there, in the dentist chair, kinda needing to pee, with a guy scraping my teeth, listening to my three kids start to argue about the toy that's in the waiting room. I could not have been more uncomfortable.

But then the kids worked it out without tears, and I was finished soon with "Look, Mom! No cavities!" So I guess it wasn't THAT bad.

Argh!

Bad Day.

Andy got up at 4:30, and I think that set the tone of the day for me. We spent the first part of the day at the beach, and that was fine. It didn't get REALLY bad until I got home and had to go grocery shopping. The boys were loud and cried. I forgot to get Steve gum, which was the only thing he asked me for. Then I got the battery charger for my camera, but it is the wrong one. Everything I'm doing seems to be wrong, and I am bursting into tears for no reason, and sometimes when I hear a really sad TV commercial jingle. Which is how I know this is all because I am too tired. So I'm just going to have to get back to you all tomorrow.

Love, Kathleen

Shoes

We got new shoes.

And by we, I mean the kids. I actually bought myself a new pair of sneakers to replace my old stinky ones, but they aren't as exciting as the ones the boys got.

Nate got Cookie Monster sneakers. He started talking about these sneakers before we left for the mall. They have pictures of Cookie Monster on them.

Andy got Ernie and Bert sneakers. One has Ernie, the other... Bert. Or, "Nenei" and "Meht" if you happen to be Andy.

Nicholas... despite all the Sesame Street sneakers at Kids Foot Locker... chose black Chuck Taylors. Black converse high tops. Which he is still very excited about.

The monster shoes are cute. The high tops.... make me sad. Because they make Nick look like a big kid.

Frank's Gift

Frank is our cat. One of our cats. He is orange. He drools and sounds like a pigeon when he purrs. He likes to sleep on our bed, even if it means getting kicked many times. He will simply cling to the blanket and pretend all is well.

Just after I put lunch on the table, Gunther started barking. This isn't unusual - Gunther barks at every neighbor that has the audacity to drive a car in or out of their own drives, at every jogger or walker that passes by, and at every truck that drives through our neighborhood, even if it doesn't come anywhere near our HOUSE. But this time Gunther was barking at Frank.

Frank was outside, on the deck, asking to be let in by scratching the glass door and meowing silently. But when I went over to let him in I realized that... Gunther wasn't actually barking at FRANK. What he was REALLY barking at was the thing that Frank and just dropped a centimeter from the door to the porch. A small, furry, dead.... something.

Actually, not so small. Not a mouse. Bigger than my fist. A mole or a vole. I didn't want to look to closely.

I don't remember screaming, but Nick looked at me and said "Mom, why did you make that noise?" And I realized that I was going to have to be very, very brave. Because Steve was not home. And if I didn't clean it up, Gunther was going to eat it.

Once I tried to carry a dead furry thing to the bushes from our house, but I only got halfway there with the thing resting in a pile of paper towels before the weight of it in my hand became too much and I screamed and waved my hand and danced around as if I had just discovered it there, suddenly appearing in my wad of paper towels.

So I took a different approach. "Stay here!" I ordered the boys. Then I walked across the kitchen and out the door to the garage, so I wouldn't have to step OVER it. In the garage, I found what I was looking for - the snow shovel. I then opened the garage door and walked around the house and up the porch steps to the dead furry thing.

All three of the boys were standing at the door, their noses pressed against the glass. It actually took a couple of tries to get the dead thing on the shovel because I didn't want to SMOOSH it, and it kept moving and flipping over, leaving little dots of blood on the deck. But finally I got it. I then walked down the steps the the backyard, and then over to the bushes, where I flung the dead thinginto the brush (which has so nicely sprouted up from where I cut it back this spring.)

I wiped blood off the snow shovel and hung it up, and then went back into the kitchen, where the boys were standing, staring at me while Gunther tried to eat their chicken nuggets.

I was proud of myself, but I guess I wasn't as sturdy and calm as I thought. "Mom," Nick asked later, "why were you crying out there?"

Please, Weight....

I have a new link in my sidebar.

When I was in Florida this spring, I found myself talking with my sister and my brother about our weights. My brother and I were telling my sister how amazing she looked, and how incredibly skinny. And my sister said something... I don't remember exactly... but she mentioned that she refused to let herself weight any more than XXX pounds.

And my first thought was "Dude - that's my goal weight. That's what I've been trying to get down to since before my first pregnancy!"

So... I know that I am not huge, and I do love my body and my curves (except my tummy) and all that stuff. But I also know that I like being in shape and that I could stand to loose a few. In my case it's more about eating less cookies, but... you know. Cookies - who can say no?

So, in case you haven't noticed, I have a new link in my sidebar. Susan is someone very dear to me who is willing to share her weight loss journey, and if you're trying to loose any weight at all, or maybe even trying not to gain, she might be going through the same kind of things you are. Drop by her site and see what she has to say!

Time Is On Your Side

I have ordered the battery charger for my phone. When I have good pictures (or even bad ones) I can think of things to write here. But sometimes... I guess I just think "who would want to read this if there isn't a visual aid / distraction?"

The good news is, I am actually getting things done. I am filling out paperwork for pre-school. I am returning books to the library. I am ordering battery chargers. All that fun stuff.

so just a few more days, folks, and cute photos can be viewed.

It Is Hot

It is so hot today. I made absolutely no effort to take the kids out of the house, unless you count the phone call I tried to make to the Pool, to see if it was open (they had closed it.) But the phone number seems not to be working, so I couldn't get through.

It's the first really uncomfortable day of heat. In August. Just as I'm thinking that I'm late with the back-to-school shopping.

Crazy Train

Today I took the kids on a spur of the moment trip to Canobie Lake Park. We got very wet, spent a lot of money on food, and Nick and Nate both won very large stuffed animals, one of which was larger than Andy with five time the head size and ended up taking the stroller because there was no other way to carry the stupid thing.

I am tired and going to bed now.

Stop The World... etc.

Last night I spent my first night on the boat.

Note To Self - Sleeping on the boat after a lobster and two green apple martinis is NOT a good idea. I couldn't stay below deck, and had to sleep outside. It was very cold. But the sunset / sunrise was amazing!

The only thing is, I've been off the boat 12 hours already and the world is still bobbing up and down like waves. And since I'm tired from my restless night.... this little post is all I can eek out.

Fishy Fishy

We have a boat. The day after we got home from Tennessee, Steve took Nick and Nate fishing on the boat. I wasn't there, but they all seemed to have fun. No one caught anything except Nick, who managed to somehow catch 4 skate, which is are a little bit like sting ray.

Diego In Tennessee

This trip to Franklin I noticed that the playground we visit has a trail leading to a civil war fort. Or at least the place on the hill where the civil war fort once stood. And a trench around it. And since I was curious, I forced Jamie and the boys to go hiking with me one morning, in between rainstorms. It was very, very wet and muddy, and also very humid. After about ten steps into the woods Nathan practically shouted "This must be the rainforest!"

I managed to ruin my sneakers by getting them so soaked they didn't dry for four days.

It wasn't too long a hike, but it was so wet and such an ordeal getting the boys to walk without falling or bumping or pushing that we were exhausted. I took off my sneakers and we let the boys play at the playground until we just couldn't stand it anymore and piled them into the car so we could go to lunch.

Only we then checked the clock and discovered it was only 9:45. AM.

New Things

Over five years ago, when Lillian offered to purchase our crib, I chose one that could be changed to a toddler bed. How ideal, I thought. Although I had no idea when that transition would take place. How long does a child stay in a crib? I guess the answer is... it depends. At least according to our pediatrician. Some children stay in their cribs until they are past 3 years old. These must be the same kids who learn to climb stairs at age four and sit in strollers until they are six. But my kids usually climb out somewhere at 18 months, and while this doesn't mean I HAVE to get them out of the crib, the threat of small broken limbs is definitely a motivator.

But in our house, there was usually another baby on the way at this point. So both Nick and Nate went right to big boy beds. Nobody knew how much use that crib would actually get.

Today, for the first time, the crib was reconfigured into a toddler bed. Not that it will keep him in or out - I'll still wake up at 2am to find him next to me. But it will keep him a little bit safer. And Andy, who is very happy and maybe even proud, is sleeping there as I type.

Also, I think I left the battery charger to my camera battery in Tennessee, so until I can order a new one and recharge, you'll be getting whatever I have.

Historic Town

No trip to Franklin would be complete without a visit to, of course, Ben and Jerry's. Never mind that we could drive to the actual factory in Vermont in a few hours, we had to go to Tennessee.

Seriously, Franklin has a lot of History, due to being the site of a battle during the Civil War. Read "The Widow Of The South" which takes place in Franklin, and you'll see what I mean. Lots of boys died, and there is a graveyard, and the famous Carter House, to prove it. But the Carter House looks downright shabby when compared to some of the grand homes we drove by - huge porches and gables and columns and trees... And the folks in the downtown area like to prove that the town is grand by keeping open a number of pricey and interesting shops. Like that soap store that makes it in the shape of food. And the toy store with really sure toys... and the second hand, the boutiques, the craft shoppes...

I took the boys into a craft shop so I could peek at some handmade quilts, and the lady there asked if she could give them crackers and jam... which they eagerly ate, and then walked over to me with their sticky fingers. "Mom! What are you looking at?!" Oh, just a quilt that costs more than you STEP AWAY WITH THOSE JAMMY HANDS!

Also, in case you were wondering, taking Aunt Betty to a Pizza Place called "The Mellow Mushroom" might be a little awkward.

Travel With Children

Kids are... interesting.

I can't remember all of the crazy things the kids said and did on our trip down. Sure, Nick did ask me how I felt sleeping with no pillow on the way down. "Because there are three pillows, and I like sleeping with three pillows. So how about I sleep with three pillows, and you sleep with no pillows. Is that OK?" And Nate cartwheeled off the bench in Cici's Pizza for no apparent reason except the floor was acting as a head-magnet.

And there was also the horrible, horrifying day we went to visit Mary's grave, where we got out of the car and then Nick threw up all over the drive - we hope none of the people at the funeral (including the military guard) noticed.

Here are a few rules for myself, if I even forget and decide to do this again:

- Do not forget the sip cups.

- You are driving. It's OK to bring extra pants for the boys.

- No matter how long you spend at a rest stop, one of the kids will have to pee ten minutes after you start driving. Bring a big cup.

- If you pack snacks and bring fruit, throw it out after the first day.

- Order the boys happy meals if you must, but don't order anything for yourself. You aren't really hungry, and the boys will not eat their happy meals, they just want the toy. You can eat the cheeseburgers when they run off to the huge gerbil tubes.

- It's OK to drink soda, but switch to decaf after 3pm so you will get a good night's sleep. The same for the boys.

- Do not go hiking in your sneakers in the wet grass the day before you leave, because your sneakers will still be wet and it will make the car smell like a giant wet sneaker.


The End.

.

Opry Mills

As much as I love visiting in the house in Franklin, there is only so much time three little boys can spend sitting still. Eventually, they need to get out and run around the yard, or be taken to the park. Since the weather was rainy a lot of the time during our trip (and almost every second Jamie spent behind the wheel) I took us all to the Opry Mills Mall. Well, not Aunt Betty, because she was tired.

I know. I know. The mall. But hey, this is not a small mall. It's got really, really high ceilings and huge stores. The food court not only has a carousel, but a rope challenge! I thought Andy would have trouble with that, though.

Then we visited the Stingray Reef, where we paid money to touch stingrays. Really. There was this huge swimming pool full of stingrays. The very tip of it was limited to baby stingrays, and we were allowed to pet the baby stingrays. I touched one. I even made my boys touch them. Because we were there, and the stingrays were there. But Jamie refused. Did you know he's afraid of fish? He is. It's funny.
I also paid $2 for "Stingray food" which turned out to be three peices of shrimp, which I was supposed to hold between my fingers while allowing a full grown stingray to envelop my arm. I tried. But those suckers and as big as bathtubs. I closed my eyes, but even so, I felt the fleshy wing of one on my arm and I couldn't help thinking my whole hand was going to disappear. So I screamed and yanked my arm back. One of the employees came over to show me how easy it was, and she held out the shrimp, and the stingray bit her! And she was bleeding. Ha! So we rode the carousel that belonged to the Stingray Reef,

and then moved over to have lunch at the Aquarium Restaurant next door.



While we were there, Jamie pointed out that a stingray killed Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, and that I had taken the word of a ten-year-old stranger that the stingers had been removed. I must have lost my mind.

It was fun. I had a great time. I think the boys (including Jamie) did, too.

The Reason for the Thing

One of the questions I am asked when I have imaginary interviews in my head is "Kathleen, why do you insist on dragging your young boys to Franklin, Tennessee once or twice a year, especially when it is so far away, and so difficult to spell?" To which I reply "I have an aunt living in Franklin, and try spelling Albuquerque."

I don't get to see my Aunt Betty very often, but I think about her a lot, and I wish we lived closer. I only drive down because flying is so expensive and unreliable. I'd rather know I'm going to spend two days in a car and then spend two days in the car than think I'm going to take a three hour flight and then spend eight hours on a runway only to disembark and fly to Detroit and then fly to Charlotte before finally making it to Nashville with no more diapers or juice and also they sent my bags to Fargo.

This trip would not have been possible without Jamie. When I sent the message out to my brothers and sisters asking if they wanted to join me I fully expected a chorus of NO's. But Jamie said "OK!" in that way that only Jamie can. He was great! THANKS, JAMIE!

Betty is fine. The trip was really great. The worst part was after we dropped Jamie off, when it took us six more hours to get home. Where were all these people going at noon on Saturday? The Cape? Also, our navigation system was overcome with a burning desire to see Chattanooga on our trip home, and we took a few wrong turns before we figured it out.

I'll post more photos soon.

My Own Home

When we were kids coming home from vacation, the first thing my brothers and sisters and I would do was run around the house to look at each room. There was a funny feeling. Everything looked so odd and so familiar at the same time, as though there were some alternate reality and we were visitors in our own home.

That's where I am right now. In the "visitor in my own home, familiarly disoritented" stage. But I am back, and I do have photographs, and stories, and new adventures to share with you!

Gosh, I hope people still check in here.

Gone Fishin'

Will post when I return from TN.

Snippety Snip Snip

I took the boys to get haircuts. All of them. Including Andy.

No, there are no pictures. I'm still getting used to looking at Andy and seeing him with BOY HAIR. And not crying. So you'll have to wait.

different world

Taking off from Manchester, I can see the trees, the green foliage, all this GREEN stuff.

Flying on, the earth gets flat and turns into a huge quilt of irregular green squares.

It gradually fades to brown squares, and then... then this. I think I love it because it's so different from what I'm used to.

Nate Has A Home

Yesterday I dragged the kids to four different child care facilities. I ended up choosing the one that was brand new, and second to most expensive. We'll be paying ten dollars a week less for three mornings instead of three half days. But this way I'll be able to pick him up on my way home from picking up Nick instead of making a second trip out.

I have to admit, I was mad. When public kindergarten finally opened enrollment, we stared getting surveys asking about our intentions. They kept asking for information again and again, and was sufficiently wishy washy to frighten parents away. Because if you need care for your child, you don't want to sign them up for a class that won't take place. And I know parents who moved to other kindergartens because they were nervous.

I would have thought they would get creative. Make the kindergarten class smaller and form another toddler class. One for two-year-olds, so that kids like Nate wouldn't be in classes with eighteen-month-olds. The toddler class was always full.

I think I feel more betrayed or abandoned than I would like to admit. And I'm nervous because this new place... is new. I just have to keep reassuring myself that all will be well.

Deck Of Cards

Yesterday we got a letter from the school the boys attended last year informing us that they are closing. Enclosed was a check for the deposit I had sent in for Nathan in the fall. And a few thoughts / emotions ran through my mind.

1 - guilt. Because I chose public kindergarten over the school's existing kindergarten and contributed to the downfall of the school.

2 - sympathy for the teachers, who I trusted with my children, and who must now scurry around to find new jobs.

3 - Oh My Lord, where am I gonna send Nate next FALL?!?I had this all SET! Not just until Nate went into Kindergarten, but until ANDY went to Kindergarten, and Andy wasn't even enrolled...

Most schools that I would like to send Nate to begin accepting children at age 3. Which means that I either have to wait until Andy is 3 to send him to school (which I don't want to do because I've already been having fantasies about 3 mornings a week of no kids) or send Nate to a school that is less than what I want for him, which I don't want to do because he deserves the best. Or send 3 kids to 3 different schools for one year of my life.... one, sad, likely miserable year.

Anyway, I'm doing a whirlwind tour of local schools for the next couple of days, as are apparently, every other parent that had a kid enrolled at old school. Which means there's just a leeetle pressure to sign up yesterday.

Was Going to Say Something....

Along the lines of "this wedding was really beautiful" or "it was nice to see my friends" or "I liked doing things because I wanted to do them without having a small child crying or saying 'mama' or bonking his brother over the head and also, no laundry!"

The truth is, any time I don't have to cook dinner is a treat. Any time I don't have to clean up is a double treat. To have all responsibilities lifted for a couple of days was bliss in and of itself. Add friends, a beautiful wedding, and food to die for...

Overheard in the car

NATE: I love you, Nicholas Charles LastName!

NICK: No, call me Nick.

NATE: I love you, Nick!

NICK: Thanks, I love YOU, Nate!

NATE: No, call me Nate The Great.

Wedding in Santa Fe

I laughed.

I cried.

It was better than CATS.

Off to Santa Fe

I have already packed my camera for the trip to Santa Fe, and I'm not about to unpack to find it just to put up more photos.

I'm going to Santa Fe for a wedding. Miranda and Jud are getting married! It should be a good time, and I'll be back on Monday.

I love you, internet people! By-eeee!

All Good Things

Our trip to France has come to an end, as all trips must. But thanks to Andrew's resiting the change back, my body is still enjoying the effects of the time difference. Last night was the first night he didn't come into my room at 3am wanting to play.

I have been strong, though, and have resisted the urge to throw him out the window or nap too much during the day. But today I broke down. After putting Andy down I stretched out beside Nate until he fell asleep, and then climbed under the covers next to Nick, who no longer sleeps every day.

I fell asleep, and dreamed I was in France with Anne-E and Jamie, and we were watching movies on a big ceiling in a huge room, and I was dancing in the darkness, thinking about how I was wasting the sunlight, holing myself up in the dark room. But before I left I asked Jamie to check his computer to find out when Meg and Winston and Emily would be arriving. I was so excited to see them. And when I thought I saw Jamie alone in the next room, another huge, endless room with tall, tall ceilings and a floor that was black and smooth and shiny and that might have been water... I ran into that room, but it wasn't him. In fact, I woke up.

And it took a few moments for me to realize that the vacation was actually over, and that I wouldn't be going back for awhile, and that I didn't even know the next time I'd be seeing my brothers or sisters (OK, Jamie next week, but you know...) And I was just coming to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to be seeing them, when Nicholas stirred beside me.

Before I could take a breath, Nick asked "Mom, did you enjoy the nap I let you have?"

Yes. The nap he let me have. And the wonderful dream.

Someplace New

It's true that, over the years, I've been to many of the touristy places there are to go near my parents place in France. And I tend to revisit these places and note how they have changed over the years.

This year I did not venture into St. Tropez even once. Nor did I take the boys to view the castle ruins in Grimaud. (We started out, but it was too hot so we simply went back home.)

But I did get to go to a couple of new places. One is Gassin, which has a most amazing view and a charming lane with nothing but places to eat. The other is a house in Lorgues which belongs to friends of my parents. I loved this house. It is the stuff novels and films are made of.

Sailboats

Sailboats are cool. Sailboats sail in water. I like sailboats.

And we now own one, by the way.

Not the one in this photo. This is a random picture Steve took in France. Our is smaller. But today we visited it for the first time. We're docked in Salem (House of the Seven Gables, Mom!) and I envision many fine days of sailing and / or wandering around a small, quaint, witch oriented town. How cool is that?

The Thing About Ice Cream

Ice Cream tastes better when it's in the shape of a flower.

But the thing is...

It still melts.

The Travel

My trips, especially the ones I take with my children on planes, are usually bookended by the horror stories of "how we got there" and "how we got home." Tales of delayed or cancelled flights, sick children, races through ariports, rude airline employees... I have told them all.

And I know you are curious.


Our flights to get there were happily uneventful. I purposely scheduled an earlier flight to NY to avoid afternoon thunderstorms, and this meant we had about 6 hours of waiting at JFK before we could board out flight. We were zone 4, which meant we had to wait to get on the plane while crowds of people pushed past us to get on first (I don't get that when there is assigned seating. the SEATS are THERE. It's not like you're going to get anything better.) Once on the plane, I got a little miffed when the man sitting diagonally asked for earplugs because "I'm surrounded by children" and was feeling quite smug that the noisiest child was the 2-year-old in the seat in front of him - the one with the mother who freaked out because he started to cry and kept pushing the pacifier in his mouth even though he wasn't crying. Then Andy chose that moment to get a night terror (crying in his sleep, inability to be woken up or consoled, all experts say to just let the baby cry it out. Not good advice at 30,000 feet.) Oh, well.

But all of our luggage made it, our car was actually a station wagon, and we made it to the house in record time!

On the trip back... well, as soon as I took the exit for the airport Nick threw up all over his pants. I told myself we'd change him as soon as we got into the airport and had a few minutes. We spent time shoving the car seats into the suitcase, waited on line to get our passports checked, waited on line to get our luggage checked, and by the time I got to the bathroom I realized I forgot to pack a change of clothing for the older boys, so I wedged Nick into a pair of Andrew' shorts, and stuck his shorts into a plastic bag instead of throwing them away, which was my first instinct.

And good thing, too. Because after rushing through security and through customs, and then somehow almost immediately through the gate and into a long hallway where they once AGAIN checked our passports and boarding passes and asked us the same questions about our luggage, after getting on the plane and the plane taking off, and the kids falling asleep... Nathan had an accident and needed to change into something. Feeling awful about making him wear a pair of shorts someone else had thrown up on, I make Nick change back into his own shorts, and wedged Nathan into Andy's shorts. Thank Goodness Andy didn't need a change of clothing on the plane, or I would have had to bring someone back into the country naked.

After the plane landed we had to stand in a line to have our passports checked, then we had to claim our luggage and walk through a customs checkpoint where a man counted the number of people and the number of bags, then we had to stand on another line to re-check our bags to Boston, where they started running around like ants when we told them our flight was less than ninety minutes way. Then we had to take our shoes off and go through security, then we had to find our gate, and when we did our flight was boarding. We then sat on the tarmac for fifty minutes before finally taking off. Only one of our bags didn't make it to Boston, and we found it on our doorstep when we woke up at 3am the next morning. (Thanks, Andy.)

Swimmy-Dim-DIm

Swimmy-Dim-Dim is the name of Nick's stuffed sea turtle. The boys invent all sorts of interesting names for their toys and stuffies. While we were on vacation, Nick introduced his bakupal "DrillKiller" and Nate introduced HIS bakupal "boop-bee-boop." Nate also named one of his toys "Hey-Cool-Dude" and while we were there adopted a small rooster figurine he named "Lloyd."

But anyway...

Last summer I signed the boys up for swim classes, for eight weeks, twice a week, they got a half hour of pool time, which they shared in a class with four other students. They did improve, but I was dissapointed that they still couldn't swim and cried when their faces got wet. Then I was dissapointed in myself for expecting too much of my children, and then I had to medicate myself with chocolate and red wine.

This summer, when we got to my parents' place, I took the boys to the pool. They were not very excited. Nick said he would go in if someone held him, and Nate said he's "tinkle his toes in the water." We didn't go to the pool every day, but by the end of the two weeks... see for yourselves!



I'm proud. And I think they'll be swimming on their own by the end of the summer.

Franch Fries, Franch Toast, And to Drink....

My father likes going out for meals when he's in France. And so do I. It's easy to go, sit, and spend hours performing a ritual - the drinks, the first course, the main course, the dessert... the trouble is, the kids are not quite there, and eating that much even once a day is not a healthy thing for body or pocketbook.
So most of the time the places we went out to eat were casual, places where the kids could climb under the table or go run around is some courtyard. Places where they served either pizza or a kids menu.
I started off getting just Nate and Nick kids meals, and letting Andy feed from bites off of others. He never eats a lot, anyway. But after a few failed attempts I finally broke down and got him his own Steak Hache with fries. He was so obviously pleased when the plate was set in front of him - he smiled and hid his face before digging in.
The food is different, so it's hard to know what to order. The first night, Steve and I were deliberating over what pizza to order for each boys. "I'm going to get Nick the 'Quatre Fromages' Pizza," Steve said. I was surprised, but figured I'd let it happen. Meanwhile, I was planning on orderingthe most simple pizza for Nate. "Nathan, I'm going to order you the 'Margarita."

Nathan shook his head. "No, Mom. I really want a coke."

Getting My Balance

I think it might take a few days to get back on my feet. Or get my timing back. Or get used to being home. Call it what you will, it's all the same sort of thing.

It's one think if it's just you. If you have a day to sleep and nap when you want, to eat when you want. But I have the kids. My schedule is dictated by theirs. Nicholas, who refused to sleep on the plane on the way back, started crying five minutes before we reached home, and did not stop until we let him climb into bed just before 7pm. Andy, on the other hand, who has slept through a good deal of the flight to NY and ALL of the flight to Boston and then half of the trip home from Lillian's, refused to fall asleep at all, so I rocked him until we were both asleep. Then he woke up at 3:30 AM.

Three. Thirty. In. The. Morning.

Lucky for him I have a sense of humor.

But I did sleep deeply last night. And when I woke up I had the unsettling sensation of not knowing where I was. Upon opening my eyes I tried to make sense of my surroundings in the dark, and I mistook the TV cabinet for one of the open arch-type doorways in my parents' dwelling.

When I realized where I was and things fell into place I was hit with the difference in architecture. There everything is rounded and curved, stone and high ceilings, and that pink-red color. And here, in our home, we have harsh angles and drywall and if you're over six feet you might be able to change the ceiling bulb without a step-stool.

Also, it is under 60 degrees here and raining.

So while I wander around in my dream-state, please forgive my absent minded-ness.

I'm BAAA-ACK!

Ha ha! Due to the miracle of pre-posting, I was able to post several mediocre blog entries over the past two weeks, and no one was able to even tell I was gone! I am an evil genius, I tell you! GENIUS! Bwah-hahahaha!

I have many pictures. I have many stories. But what I do NOT have at the moment is the ability to remain awake much longer, let alone focus my thoughts.

Pack What You Need

I am hopeless when it comes to packing for vacations. I simply cannot predict what I'll need. I usually end up bringing too much stuff. A day into my trip I realize I could have left more than half of what I brought at home, but that I need several things I didn't think to pack.

In this case, we'll be gone for two weeks. That's quite a few changes of clothes, diapers, etc. However, we'll be in a house. We'll have access to a washing machine. We'll have access to a dishwasher for sip cups. And France is not the end of the earth. It's been a couple of years, but I am pretty sure they sell diapers, wipes, shampoo, etc. So I'm only bringing what we need to get us through the first few days.

Here are the bags we plan on checking:

Two Wall-E suitcases and a big black bag. These are holding all clothing items for the boys and myself, including shoes and swimsuits and extra hats, all toiletries, and all the books are toys and diapers we aren't bringing with us on our carry-ons, including a pack of swim diapers and a pack of pull-ups for Nate sleeping. As if this isn't impressive enough, the big black bag also has two booster seats so we can put Nick and Nate in a car and feel safe about it. Two booster seats. In one bag. With all my clothes. Steve will need to pack his own suitcase.

Here's what we're carrying with us on the plane:This is a black backpack, a Wall-E backpack, and the attachment for Andy's carseat, which he will sit in on the flight. See the pile of clothes? This is the pile of clothing we will actually be wearing on the flight.

For the record, we are leaving the day after tomorrow. Which means I am packed two days in advance. Which I think is proof that I'm adopted.

Or maybe I'm just excited to see my parents?

Play

Destructo