Sweet!

This Saturday my side of the family met up in Rockport to attend the book launch party for illustrator and Rockport resident Melissa Sweet's new book:

The book is about the true story of Tony Sarg, a brilliant puppeteer who was the genius behind the balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.  Melissa wrote and illustrated this book and it is a really fun tribute to a tradition most of us think little about.

While we were reading it, Ella kept saying, "This is a REAL parade?  We can watch it?" clearly not remember a few years ago us shouting with enthusiasm and pointing wildly to the TV for her "Look a giant Clifford!" or "Hello Kitty!"

One of the wonderful things my mom brings to her grandchildren's lives is books.  She instilled a great love of reading in me and is now helping to shape our girls this way.  She always buys them a book as a part of any gift (such that Ella now says, "Well, it's got to be a book if Grandma gave it to me" while she is tearing a packaging) and often the books are often signed from their Maine authors and purchased at her local small town bookstore. 

Some other Melissa Sweet books we have and love:

(and sorry, no,  you can't click to look inside...)

While I'm at it, I cannot pass up an opportunity to pass on the wonderful world of Chris Van Duesen.  He is also a Maine author/illustrator who lives right in Camden and writes my favorite children's books.   Apparently he is also a really kind, down-to-earth guy and whenever my mom's friend Ann, Chris's neighbor, takes my mom over to sign yet another book for her grandchildren, he happily obliges.

(Do you also love this image of my mom as this hard core book buyer, autograph seeker, trolling the streets of her small coastal town for the betterment of grandchildren's literary future?)

Camden, where my mom lives and where I went to high school and where any creative person would be smart to live:

(I just can't talk about Camden without showing you how stunning it is.)

Here are some of our favorite Chris Van Duesen books.  I promise you will not tired of reading this funny, charming books over and over to your eager listeners. Maybe consider for Christmas! (And no, they are not paying me.)

The book launch party was fun because it was all about kids:

Maya did not know what to do with the puppy balloon animal she requested that turned out to be a poodle.

My super adorable nephew:

Michaela got to go up on stage during the balloon show as a volunteer.  She thought this guy was REALLY funny.

Somehow Kathryn got selected as well, although she definitely didn't raise her hand.

After lunch at my mom's house, we hit the kids favorite destination: Cedar Works.  They make amazing, and fantastically expensive, playsets and have a whole play yard for kids to check out the merchandise.

Can we all just take note of this outfit??

Sometimes the adults have to test the quality as well.  This is Brian, my sister's super sweet boyfriend.

Grandma decided to try on Ella's gloves and hat while she was holding them.

Ella is going to be seven in ten short days.  She is looking every bit that to me these days.

easing up

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to the smoke alarm going off.

Can we establish that this is probably on par with hearing unknown footsteps coming up your steps for most terrifying nighttime noise?

The smoke alarm sounded one shrill, piercing BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! and from the time my neurons fired with the first beep and the time the third one ended, I went from sound asleep to up on my feet with my arms up in combat stance.  (What can I say?  I've been taking kickboxing.)

I think I have a healthy fear of fire.  I have images imprinted on the cells of my hippocampus of families standing in horror while their house burns down from watching the news as a kid.  It doesn't help that our garage caught on fire 6 weeks after Sandi first moved in.  We were in bed and only found out because our neighbor, an astronomer, was stargazing while enjoying his last cigarette of the evening.  He pounded on our door and we came running from our bedroom which was a mere 12 feet or so from the flaming garage.

I have never in my life so heartily cheered smoking.

After the freak show of packing our animals in the car (and being unable to locate 2 terrified cats) and having the fire trucks arrive and the neighbors spilling into the street, fires haunt me a bit.

I even have a mental list of what things I would grab while ferreting our family to safety (the girls, their security blankets, pants-or at the very least a robe-, my phone, the dog,  hopefully shoes, car keys and insulin supplies if I could manage to get downstairs.  And if I could I would also grab Sandi's laptop because it has all our pictures on it.)

I searched the house for any signs of smoke or fire. I checked on Ella who was sleeping soundly.  I came back to my bed where Maya was tucked up into Sandi and said, "How did that not wake you?" in a snotty tone and got no response. 
This morning when we woke up I told Sandi the story, my voice dripping with smug judgement that I had risen to save our family while she slumbered. She looked at me like I had three heads.

And a dawning understanding came over me.

I dreamt it.

Not the Navy Seal response time out of bed and onto my feet (in combat stance no less), but the alarm itself.  It went off INSIDE MY HEAD.  No wonder no one woke up. No wonder it only went off once.  No wonder it went off for no reason.  Because it didn't.

I have woken up from dreams crying from some tragedy playing out in my subconscious.  I've had the music from my alarm clock play in my dream before I actually wake. I've had dreams so visceral I can't shake them for a day.

But never have I had an experience I thought was real and it turns out it was a dream.  I'm a tiny bit nervous about what that means for my internal state that I am dreaming of alarms and danger.   My subconscious might be stingy with what it allows to be known, but I think I should take this as an indication of all that is brewing under my surface.

In related news of stress and panic, I am awaiting a halter monitor test to study some irregular and troublesome heart beats I'm having.  When I was pregnant with Ella I had a benign arrhythmia but this feels different and more concerning.  It feels like my heart is pausing and then beating hard, kind of slamming against my chest wall in a way that you are only supposed to feel when you are sprinting out of your house in the event of a fire.  (Like how I'm tying it all together?)

My  doctor asked me if I was under any added stress or was experiencing  anxiety. I wanted to hop off the crumbly paper of the exam table and roll on the floor in hysterics.

One thing is for certain- I need to keep on easing up so I can cease having fire drills in my dreams.  I told Sandi that I wanted to skip the Christmas cards this year.  The whole no income, paying for non-essentials thing is giving me a stomach ache.  I intent to downshift Christmas this year in a big way. We were in the process of discussing it when I tried to open my holiday mailing list and it was corrupt.  I couldn't recreate that list if I wanted to.  Which I don't.  So please know you didn't get shafted when you don't get a card from us.  My computer is saving me from myself.

As I was trying to fall back asleep last night with adrenaline screaming through my veins, all I could think was, this isn't good for my heart! 

Eeegad, I'm too young for this...

Halloween 2011...twins yet again

I started this post with the statement that our kids had worn matching Halloween costumes for the past 2 years. As I went trolling through the blog to find some flashback pictures, I had a realization.

Hmmmm......

Last year after being a beached penguin and camping out on our friends' sofa from the sheer exhaustion of carting around all that stuffing, Ella decided she wanted a costume she could run around in.

(I guess she no longer cared if she had a costume that would make her parent's pee their pants.)

So, at the end of last year's trick or treating, she announced:  "Next year I am going to be a mermaid."

"Now that's a fast moving costume," Emilie offered.

Ella also informed me that she would not be matching Maya this year.  I conceded.  She spent September scouring costume catalogs that came in the mail.  Much highlighting and dog earing of pages later, she settled on a cowgirl.  Expensive and cheaply made though it was, I understood the desire. After all, I had had a similar cowgirl costume once upon a time and I still remember the feeling of sheer joy I had wearing it.

One unrealted-to-Halloween-trip to Old Navy later, and my mother Halloween dream came true one more (and likely final) time.

They were certain! They would match!  They loved the costume!  Ella could run in it! Maya could be like her big sister!  Cowgirl shmowgirl!  They would be bees once more!

(I have yet to really delve into the psychological meaning behind the girls second go around with the bee.)

One thing is for certain as I walk down Halloween memory lane...the girls look so much more sophisticated.  So much less like babies and little girls and so much more, well, themselves.

(I don't know if bumble bees have freckles but who could resist?)

As we were getting ready to leave, Ella came out of the bathroom sporting hot pink knee high pom pom socks, pulled up high outside her black leggings and her green undershirt and pink necklace were showing on her neck.

"I don't like the way I look.  Maya gets to look perfect and I don't," she protested in the tone of angst-riddled thirteen-year-old.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was not my first, and would certainly not be my last, fashion emergency with Ella.  Best approach:  solution oriented.  Don't try to push her into the car or the crying will last for 30 minutes minimum.

I quickly found a pair of my black socks and we changed her bottom layer shirt to grey from green so it was less noticeable under the black.  Crisis averted.
We headed over to the Harmon's for some trick or treating. 

Five silly kids ready to go scout for candy.

And their three moms trying to stay warm.

(I was apparently REALLY happy.)

One house was seriously decked out for the occasion, complete with someone in costume sitting perfectly still on the porch and only moving when the kids were upon him.

We got to the door and realized it was our pediatrician. I think the fact that she gave candy to Maya will go a long way toward building their relationship.

Have you ever seen Super Girl hold hands with a bumble bee?  Trust me. Cutie patotie.

After scoring a bunch of candy in the Harmon's neighborhood, we met Sandi back at home and went through our small neighborhood.  Eleven years ago when we first moved here, there were no trick or treaters, no kids on the street at all.  Now our street is bustling on Halloween night.

The girls went to town on their loot.  Ella, specifically, was thrilled to have free reign on the candy.  We put them to bed that night, chocolate streaks that had escaped the swipe of a washcloth on their soft cheeks, and I couldn't  help but wonder what and who they will exactly be next Halloween.  It's kind of neat how a once a year event becomes a benchmark for your childrens' growth and evolution.

That means I should probably plan on Punky Brewster and a clown for next year...

Turning 4

Maya was born at 10:59 PM on October 29 following a mere 4 hours of heavy labor and a pettily 4 minutes of pushing.  She came flying into this world and has been a force to be reckoned with ever since.

As moms and executive schedulers, we took some liberties with Maya's birthday this year.  Due to a fiasco with our original party location (how dare people go out of business when you have a party planned?) some scrambling was done and we had to make do with an October 30th spot.  Add to this Sandi's crazy study schedule and we decided to just pretend that Sunday was Maya's birthday and we spent the entire day as a family with her party in the afternoon.

Can I just say that that was Sandi's first whole day off since the end of August? 

Can I get an allelujah, amen and hail mary for that?

We woke up on Maya's faux birthday to a snowstorm.  Go figure.

We had a cozy family morning with presents, a wood fire, suiting up in snow pants, (cake decorating), and snuggles.

Maya was excited for her party and she kept saying, "Is it TODAY?"

What's a girl to do? She waited on the couch, donned in her leotard, for her gymnastics party to happen.

We built a blanket fort.

We made pretzels with her snazzy new cooking stuff. 

Really all that was left was to stand on her head.

Finally it was time for her party!

In the depths of my wild imaginings, I fancy myself a baker.  Each year marks another milestone in our children's lives and another opportunity to go head to head with a frosting tip and a bag of buttercream.

A few weeks ago Maya and I were driving in the car and she said, "I want a big, pink pig for my birthday.  I want to snuggle it in my bed.  I'm going to get a big, pink pig for my birthday.  Won't that be SO exciting for me?"

This was news to me.  I began to consider sources for big, pink pigs.

A couple of days later she informed me:  "I'm going to be getting a big, pink pig for my birthday and Auntie Krick is going to give it to me."

I quickly contacted Kris and she said that yes, in fact, Maya had told her that she wanted such an item and that Kris was planning to get it for her.

Just before her birthday, Jackson's mom asked Maya what she wanted for her birthday. "Nothing," she replied.  When we walked away she whispered to me, "What I really want is a big, pink pig."

Auntie Krick, of course, came through and it is the most adorable pink there ever was.

We don't know where we got Maya, we aren't always sure what to do with her, but one thing is for certain...we will keep that curly haired, hilarious child and let her tickle our funny bones while we pull our hair out strand by graying strand. 

When we put her to bed that night she asked, "Will I still be four tomorrow???"