The real face of parenthood

Someone's almost always pissed about something.




Glazed over, sickly and exhausted.

3 months to 3 years

Luke and I played around with photobooth today on my computer. After we took some post-nap pics we looked back through the archives and laughed (I teared up) as we watched time flash before our eyes.

Frame of mind

My immediate reaction to this photo is one of glee (in the memories of the day spent with best friends) and then I look closer and notice the details (and try not to cringe at the size of my calves). I see that Luke's face is bug-bitten and scraped and he's thrown his hat on the ground, Ellie's hair is free and wild (which I love), and John's arms are hanging in a kind of weird way. It's perfectly us, it was taken by my very best friend who listens to me in the good times and the bad. She is always, always there even though she's like 1,000 miles away in Minneapolis. She is as vibrant as the red door behind us and with that she's captured the color of our family. We're imperfectly scraped and angled and off-kiltered and I'm in love with it.

Our plans for the year 2042

So since our wings are proverbially clipped, here's to dreaming. Hopefully by some stroke of luck we'll be retired in 2042.

Here's our list as it stands:

Live in Manhattan proper, preferably a brownstone in Greenwich Village, for 3 months and immerse ourselves in the culture.

John wants to volunteer at Old Sturbridge Village for 2 months. I will find a hobby of somesort, maybe I'll work in the Village Store, it's got AC and you can wear civilian clothing. HA!

Travel to Europe: Italy, France, Switzerland, England, Germany being the top stops. Hey, we've got the time, and we're dreaming so keep your doubtful thoughts to yourself.

Rent a house, for the whole summer, on either Cape Cod or Drakes Island, ME and have our kids and grandkids come and go as their schedules allow.

Sleep in on a random Tuesday. Read a book all day long only stopping to share a really good lunch and/or take a nap.

Make sun tea and crochet blankets for the next generation (um, I think I am already old).

Out of the blue

We were standing in the hallway, the kids were scrambling around getting ready for their bath when he looked at me and said, "It's just so weird. My dad was here one day and now he's gone. Just like that. Isn't it so weird? He was part of my life, and now he's just not. He gave me this t-shirt, I remember being in his office when he gave it to me 10 years ago. And now..."

I know this ache. I hate it.

Off the charts for cuteness

Ellie's recent ramblings:

She points to her chest and yells E. Me. E.

She says: "oakhay oakhay oakhay" with her head nodding and bobbing (aka: okay, okay, okay)

She SCREAMS "prize" (aka: Surprise) when we enter a room or walk in the door

She carries her blankie every.where. and refers to it as her "B"

She says "mommy mom mommy" in the most innocently sweet little girl way. It breaks my heart every time she says it.

She has reached the "I do" stage. She tries to hoist herself up into her car seat, gets herself in and out of the tub and climbs up into her highchair. We have so far avoided any major spills and falls.

She is stubborn, I see me in her and she is all mine. Forever.


And then there's this:
Luke in the car after I picked him up from the sitter:
"I made Gregory grumpy this morning."

"Oh why, what happened?"

"I just did Mawm. 'Cause I missed my family."

Daydream Believer

I am unsure if it's because our life has become repetitive and consistent and safe or if it's the reality that we can't just pack our bags and run to wherever we feel we need to be. I at once feel elated with this life and think it cannot possibly get any better and simultaneously feel suffocated. My wings are clipped. Our bags are unpacked. We are settled. We watch old Seinfeld reruns on our non-cable tv at 10:15. Every. Night. I am not complaining, I love that time. It is so innocent and light. We laugh. We snuggle. We laugh more. We need less. And yet I daydream and I wonder as I wish on our next adventure.