letter of complaint

Dear I teeth,

We have a problem.

First, I don't really understand why you need to be in Maya's mouth. After all, she doesn't REALLY need anymore devices of destruction.

Second, all four at once? Seriously?

And third, if you're going to come, just get on with it. I am tired because Maya doesn't sleep and she is tired because of the same. Crying and whining have become the soundtrack of our house. Chewing on household items is now commonplace and I am tempted, but dare not, use something stronger than Ibuprofen. Whiskey anyone? Percocet?

So, honestly, just set your mind to it and pop through those gums. Go to a seminar, read an inspirational quote to motivate you. PLEASE, just let us go on with our normally chaotic, slightly out-of-control normal state of crazy, OK?

Kind of sincerely,
an imploring, somewhat desperate mom

mischief set loose

The girls tried to take me down today.

I'm not kidding.

It almost worked.

Ella, with her recent start of preschool, is utterly exhausted and has had a hard time keeping her emotions from overtaking her. Last night she cried for a solid 20 minutes, clutching me and sobbing, saying something was bothering her but she didn't know what. She is a most sensitive child and doesn't take to transitions well.

Maya woke at 4:30 a.m. which meant I was up a full 2 hours before the sun today. And she has been on full screech all day long.

We have to put Maya's footed pjs on backward now, zipper in the back, because she removes them in her crib before she falls asleep. For sure, next will be the diaper. This is the mastermind at work that we contend with all day.

She cried through the last 2/3 of our trip to the grocery store, attracting the attention of other customers in the "oh, what is that mom doing to that poor child!" kind of looks.

I was cooking in the kitchen, infinitely grateful that Maya was playing so well in her play kitchen.
Until she came around the corner with powder all over her hands... and then showed me the empty garlic powder container she had stolen from the kitchen table.


She had been doing a bit of cooking of her own.

A vacuum clean-up later, a trip to the farm to get veggies, fast forward to me cleaning up supper, again grateful Maya is playing so well by herself.

Yup, playing on herself. AFTER her bath.

When I had decidedly had ENOUGH and was getting teeth brushed and heading for bed 30 minutes early, I saw Maya standing on a kitchen chair taking a bite out of every shucked ear of raw corn on the cob I had on the table.

This all begs the question: When will I realize a quiet Maya is a troublemaker Maya??

Emilie would be proud of me, though, because when I saw the garlic powdered hands, I grabbed the camera before a washcloth.

sentence structure

Maya, and her recently acquired two-word sentences:

"Mommy hat."

"Ella water."

"Mochy out."

"You snuggle."

"Maya blankie."

When something is hot, it is "hot, hot, hot."

The one that gets the most laughs is when she calls for Ella. She literally bellows, "ELLA!" with this deep, not-made-for-a-baby voice reminiscent of Rocky calling for "Adrienne!"

She has begun tattling. If one mom offends her, she'll run to the other mom, point at the person who did the "wrong" babble incoherently with her eyebrows furrowed accusingly.

Maya likes to show people things, so she often cups her hand open and closed, waving you toward her desired destination, and says, "come, come."

And just yesterday she revealed this one: "No Momma! No Momma! No Momma!" about anything that she isn't impressed with. The funny thing is, she uses this with Ella too when Ella does something she disapproves of.

Oh, great.

rites of passage

Last week we put our cat to sleep.

Translated for Ella to be: "The cat was old. She wasn't acting like a cat should act anymore. We took her to the vet. She died there."

Age appropriate truth, no?


Allow me to back up...Adora was a 13-year-old feline who lived 99% of her life under the bed or hiding in the wood pile in the basement. Weeks would go by without her having human contact. Sad, but very, very true.

So her passing isn't a happy event, but a peaceful relief for a life no longer tortured by extreme fear.

Ella and I dug a hole and buried her in the back yard. We held a little service, placing flowers picked from our garden on top of the box. I said a few words in honor of the cat. Ella said, "Adora, you were specialist cat in the whole world."

(Not that she would know because she had barely pet her once.)

And then, Maya, in my arms, tossed in her black-eyed susan and said, "Hebajebafrenkneck."

It was lovely.

f-f-f-frigid

I went for a bike ride early the other morning before a day trip to Beals. I was so excited for the rare opportunity to stretch my legs before a day that would include 4 hours of driving and almost 8 hours in a darkened massage studio.

Six to seven was my time slot for an invigorating bike ride. I would watch the sun come up, feel the crisp morning air clean out my lungs...

And freeze my a#% off!

I was so cold that I had to stop twice to rescue my nearly frostbitten hands and put them against my warm abdomen. I had to ride with my sleeves over these same icicle hands, toes frozen, ears numb stumps that were begging for a cozy ear muff, all the while trying to enjoy my freedom ride. I tried to stop thinking about the cold and seriously couldn't.

I wanted to come home and tell Sandi that I was certain it was in the 40s but I knew she would laugh at me.

Toughen up, Carver. Honestly.

I found out later that it had been 37 degrees. Hello fall.

school shopping (aka fashionista on the loose)

Thanks to a little grandparental help, we took Ella school shopping.



Overheard on this adventure:



"I do NOT like leggings."



"Momma, this is my school shopping. Shouldn't I get what I want?"



"I really want the pink sparkle shoes."



"Maya looks so pretty when she is accessorizing."



Overheard by Sandi and I:



"Wow, Target doesn't have any fun tights at all."



And I knew I would say it someday, but wanted to stuff it back it as soon as it came out because it sounded like my mom: "These clothes are so impractical! Why would they sell short sleeves for a Maine winter!"



And because she is adamately against the legging, Ella may freeze this winter in tights and dresses. What is a parent to do when fashion is on the line??



We had to remind ourselves that the point of shopping could no longer be to return home with clothes. We had to surrender to the fact that Ella has her own sense of what looks good and there is simply no getting in the way of it. Equally as important, it is impossible to quench this fashion thirst in one trip to the mall. The shopping has to just be for the pure "fun" of it.



If we are committed we are going to have to make frequent trips to the stores to peruse the new merchandise. Probably wise to get on a first name basis with the manager of the Children's Place.



Perhaps the most heartbreaking...Ella is now in a size 5 which means, at JCPenney anyway, that she is the "big" kid section. You know the section that also contains training bras??!! We are so not prepared for this. Both Sandi and I are practically in tears as school gears up knowing that we only have one more year at home with Ella before she goes off to school all day, five days a week, never to return to the nest of home full-time, except in summer. Mind you, we know this is an entire year away, but it might as well be tomorrow.



Not that we are tempted, but I now understand why couples have that baby so many years behind their more grown-up kids...

magic happens here

For those of you who don't know, my running has had a bit of set back.


In the form of a broken femur. Stress fracture. Or at least that's what the physical therapist assumes.



I was super excited to run the Mount Desert Island Marathon in October before I got this nagging, and then hobbling pain in my right leg, right along the medial edge of my femur. I had to cut way back, got PT which advocated a bunch of exercises as well as smart use of the leg, not to eliminate running but to do it cautiously. And to bike "like a madwoman." All in all, I am on the road to recovery. But not on the road to the MDI marathon. Not this fall at least. Here's to 2010.


Turns out I wasn't irresponsible in my training. I just had done a lot of impact by combining running with plyometrics as well as wearing some incredibly comfy, and ultimately damaging insoles that lifted only my heel up and made my gait unbalanced for many, many miles. And without the insoles, the sneakers tore off several layers of much needed skin around my heel in the form of a massive blister which took more than two weeks to heal.



I had to get new shoes and thanks to the advice of the PT and some gracious birthday money...

...the magic of Brooks.

At $100 these are the most expensive sneakers I have ever had. One run in them told me why this was such a great investment. And, in one of the most mature moments of my life, I was able to appreciate my body's ability to run 5 miles again, rather than begrudge my lost long runs. My motto in my head became "I want to run for a long time. I want to heal this safely. I want to invest in my future running." And yes, someday, 7 and then 10 and then 13 and then...who knows...

I know you're probably tired of hearing about it...

But we've been at the lake again...



We worked very hard at appreciating the windfall of a bonus last weekend at Schoodic...

Without the thought of an entire year before we are graced by its sandy shore...

No room for tears or lamenting.

Just some good ol' fashion fun, sand, sun...

and mermaids...

some funny faces...

some looking like a rock star...

a little bit of snuggling...

and a wonderful, serendipitous sailboat ride.

First Mate Brevan.

And Captain Russell. Age 80. Spunk: 100%. Sense of humor: through the roof. Enjoyment of sailing his 17 ft. O'Day around Schoodic Lake? Out of sight.

And finally, when all is said and done and you must face the fact that the mornings are now so chilly you need multiple layers and a heater and hot chocolate, the lake is a tiny bit frigid and you have to relent to the passing of summer...

Time for a snuggle and a few last laughs.

How lucky...

from ella's eyes

We let Ella use the small digital camera. For fun. For her perspective. For a big girl thing to do while the crazy one was asleep.

This is what Ella sees. These are the subjects of her attention.

geared up

We've got two cord of wood sitting in our driveway.

Now that Labor Day has come and gone, we've got to get it in the basement.

We've got two little rugrats that live here for free...

Maybe it's time to put them to work...

(I swear she did this all on her own, from the dress that was already on, to the work gloves, the helmet, the rubber boots and the elbow and knee pads.)

rainy day

What do you do all day when it rains cats and dogs (or in this case lions and wolves) and you're supposed to be festival hopping and your are sick (and wish you were in bed) with a cold?

You pull out the couch, make the puffiest bed with every blanket in the house, snuggle in and watch movies! (except if you're Maya and then you climb all over everyone and get on and off the bed 1,245 times while they watch the movie)
















And then you practice. Rain drills and packing yourself and your sister for school. Have people time you.

And if you're really, really lucky, you make the soup we made. It was Sandi's creation, a vehicle aimed to help us claim a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most vitamin C consumed by one family in one sitting.

I call it Farm Share Soup. The recipe goes like this:

Pick up your farm share from your local farm or raid a farm stand. Cook (or saute in the case of onions, garlic and summer squash) all the vegetables you can manage. You get prizes for variety and volume and bonus points if you use leafy greens. Save all the water you boil veggies in (we used potatoes, carrots, and a little turnip) to use as soup stock. Puree all the veggies and some of the water in a food processor and then throw it all in a pot. Add a bit of milk or cream and some salt and pepper and watch your pee turn yellow.

Yum!

she just won't stop!

More from Ella...



After watching an ambulance go by, sirens blaring: "Sometimes people's brains go this way and that way and they need to go to Mommy's hospital. Sometimes they can't talk."

"Momma, those earrings look like eyeballs!"


"Maya, do you know that people don't last forever?" (another gulp.)

"I'm excited about fall because no more fruit flies. I'm not excited about the chill I'm gonna get." (Me neither.)

"It hurts right here on my leg. What is up with my body??"

"I went to the folk festible and I came home with such good ideas!"

"I'm so cold. Like winter cold. Like cold like I'm a snowman."

I asked Ella how she could possibly remember some tiny, insignificant detail about something that happened months ago that I couldn't recall. She answered, "I keep it in my head. Yours probably ran away." (You have no idea...)

"An oven mitt is so good for your body because you won't burn your hand."

When Gramma was following us in her car: "How can Gramma see where she is going? All she can see is the back of our car."

"I want to live with you, Momma." (Ummm... you already do....)"I mean when I'm a parent. I still want to live with you." (Gulp.) "Okay," I said. What else was I going to say???

summer, savored

Here is at least a little celebration of how we spent the last days of August.

At our beloved (8 years running!) Folk Festival. Three days (minus one for us this year because of the pouring, driving rain) of fun, music, sunshine, dancing, bare feet on the grass, good food, running into people we know, and wondering how we will make it a full year before it all happens again.


Beautiful Tia with her sassy new do.

Ella LOVES the "Folk Festible" as she calls it. She has every year since she was in my belly and was jumping around in there. This was her fifth year. We counted down the days, the minutes until we could romp around the Bangor waterfront and jump to fiddle tunes and jam our faces with kettle corn. Can you see it?

We packed the buggy for the kids and packed it with blankets so they could fall asleep (yeah, right) since we had them out 3 hours past their bedtime. I was sitting on the blanket piled with kids and Sandi?

Well...

As we were watching the end of an all-women Irish group, Ella said she was ready to go (something so unusual we took heed and packed our piles of stuff at warp speed.) We were navigating the buggy through the throngs of people and she says, "Momma. I'm about to cry." This is akin to, "the A bomb is about to detonate" because she doesn't mean a couple of tears; she means a full out losing of the the marbles. We hightailed it out and she was asleep as soon as we hit the sidewalk.

And when we drove by the waterfront the day after the festival ended, Ella and I sighed deep, sad sighs as they disassembled the stages and packed it up. I remembered that I go through this every year. The festival marks the end of August, the end of summer, the start of a new season, a new year. I will get over it. Just maybe not today.