Home Sweet Home and the Toddler-to-Be

I have been meaning to write about our house hunting trip to St. Louis for ages.  The problem is, ever since we found a house, I have thought of just one thing: our house.  I have spent hours browsing the web and pinning things on pinterest, an online pin board site which is both highly useful and highly addicting.

Me, pinning all the things

I used to spend the girls’ quiet time (the precious two hours in the afternoon that Nicole naps and Allie is allowed to watch a movie) reading, relaxing or catching up on work that can only be done when the girls are otherwise entertained.  But for the past two and a half weeks, I’ve sat bleary eyed at the computer pouring over paint colors, furniture, and organization ideas for our new (to us) house.

In my defense, I’ve never really had the opportunity to decorate a home before.  Since Chris and I were married five (almost 6!) years ago, we’ve moved six times.  Allison has yet to have a birthday in the same place twice.  We knew when Chris accepted his job in flight test that our homes would be temporary.  It just didn’t make sense to spend the time, or money, fixing up a place that we knew we’d be leaving within a year or two. 

Consequently, our house is filled with a hodge-podge of furniture.  Most of it is left over from Chris’ or my college years.  Some of it has been donated to us, and some of it we have acquired on craigslist or at garage sales.  To my knowledge, none of it has been stolen.

I crack up every time the movers arrive to pack up our belongings.  They always look skeptically at our 12 year old target bookcases and the file cabinet Chris has had for ages.  “Ma’am, I’m not sure these are going to make it,” they announce grimly, “maybe if we use a lot of blankets around them...”  When we left Renton, the top of the file cabinet came loose when the mover lifted it.  He looked horrified.  I stifled a laugh.

The entertainment continued when our things were unloaded in Maryland.  A poor unsuspecting mover unwrapped one our carefully wrapped bookcases to find what appeared to be a pile of scrap wood...er...scrap particle board.  “Do you want me to just toss this?” he asked apologetically.

“No!  I’m sure it can be glued back together,” answered Chris.  [And yes, he did glue it back together.  It looks decent except for along the bottom where the trim is missing and the particle board is poking out.]

Later another mover unloaded a couple of our chests of plastic drawers.  “In the basement?” he asked.  “No, no.  In the master bedroom!” I explained.

When our homemade, unfinished bookcases were brought in, the mover asked if we wanted them in the garage.  He looked only slightly embarrassed when we announced they belonged in our living room.

Anyhoo, my point is, I’m pretty stoked to be able to outfit a house that we actually get to live in indefinitely.  Poor Chris won’t know what hit him.  I’ve been as frugal as he has the past five years, seeing no point in spending money on things that may not work in our permanent home.  But I, unlike him, have also spent the last five years creating a wish list that is a mile long.  And in St. Louis, I will no longer be two hours from a mall.  Oh, the possibilities.

Having a house to dump money into is not, of course, the only reason I’m excited to be moving to St. Louis.  We are really looking forward to being close to family and our Missouri friends again, and I am thrilled that Seattle will be a mere four hour plane ride away.  The weather in St. Louis, namely the wretched three month long stretch of unbearable humidity that Missourians call “summer”, is something I will just have to learn to live with.

In other news, my baby is one year old already!  Nicole isn’t quite walking yet, but she motors all over the place with her push toy.  Chris and I are thrilled, but Nicole’s relatively sudden and vast mobility has brought less joy to her big sister.  I am now privy to a constant stream of complaints from Allie:  “Nicole is just eating my toys...Nicole is pushing me...I don’t want Nicole in my fort”...etc.  My personal favorite?  “Nicole is pulling my hair and then laughing!  She thinks it’s funny!!”

The way Nicole feels after pulling Allie's hair.

The way Allie feels after Nicole pulls her hair.

But all in all, the girls absolutely adore each other.  Nobody can make Nicole laugh like Allie can, and nothing brings me more happiness than hearing the girls giggling together.  Because after all, two happy girls means a couple more minutes on pinterest for mom.  Kidding, kidding.  Mostly.

The girls adoring each other.

New York, New York

Last weekend we went to New York City to celebrate (belatedly) my 30th birthday and to visit Chris’ Aunt Nancy.  We spent most of Thursday prepping the car and packing so that we could pull out of our driveway no later than 7 am Friday morning.  I believe we made it at 6:56.  Those with small children and/or hard to wake husbands, know that is no small feat.

Chris didn't have to drive the WHOLE way

Sadly, a mere hour down the road, traffic slowed to a standstill.  A kind man in a pick up truck headed south rolled down his window to inform us that we had absolutely no chance of making it north anytime soon due to flooded roads and detours.  But we had already cancelled our trip once because of Hurricane Irene, and it was the second time I had packed for the journey.  I whipped out my newly acquired iphone and began searching for alternate routes.

Two hours and several failed attempts later, we accepted the fact that Maryland has truly been designed with just one way out.  We waited (and waited) but eventually arrived in New York City a mere 11 hours after we departed.  Chris drove casually through the busy streets in route to Nancy’s.  I, the faithful navigator, sat in the passenger seat alternately using my invisible break, closing my eyes, hyperventilating, and yelling, “Chriiis!!” in a helpful sort of way.

After arriving safely at Nancy’s, the girls checked out every square foot of the glorious Brooklyn apartment.  Chris, Nancy and I enjoyed a delicious dinner of lasagna, salad and french bread; Nicole munched on cheerios, and Allison (my little french girl) proceeded to eat not one, but three, pieces of bread.  I suspect she was in heaven after all the 100% whole wheat bread we insist on most of the time.

The next morning we accompanied Nancy on her usual Saturday morning trek to the farmers’ market.  We shared a delicious vegan chocolate muffin (Allie’s choice), and Nancy introduced Allison to her milk man.  Yup, there are still milk men in New York City.  And the milk still comes in glass bottles which are returned and reused.  How awesome is that?

Prospect Park Farmers' Market

After returning all of our market finds to the apartment, we all walked through Prospect Park to the zoo and carousel.  By a fabulous stroke of luck, the Prospect Park Alliance was having an event where members could enjoy free access to both.  By an even more fabulous stroke of luck, Nancy was a member of the alliance.

Nancy and I took the girls on the carousel.  Allie picked out a pink horse (no surprises there), and insisted that Aunt Nancy be the one to accompany her.  Nicole and I chose the horse next to Allie.  As the ride began, Allie was all smiles.  She absolutely loves carousels and would probably ride one all day if we would let her.  I couldn’t really tell if Nicole was having fun, but I didn’t hear any terrified screaming so I assumed all was well.  The woman on a horse in front of us turned around and looked at Nicole.  I knew what was coming before she opened her mouth:  “Your baby is making the funniest face!”  Huh.  No surprises there either. :)

After the ride and once we had successfully begged, pleaded, and forcefully removed Allie from the carousel, we ventured into the zoo.  It’s not huge, but it’s pretty great for a zoo in a park.  I spent most of my time in the primate building, watching the baby baboons play and giving Nicole her bottle.  The others checked out the ‘farm’; rumor has it that Chris had the rare opportunity to milk a cardboard cow.

Once the girls were exhausted, we returned to the apartment for lunch and a nap for Nicole.  I volunteered to pick up tickets for a Broadway play while she slept.  The TKTS booth, offering half priced tickets to same day shows, was in downtown Brooklyn, and I figured I could make it there and back safely on my own.

I carefully mapped out the nearest subway station on my iphone and double checked my route with Nancy.  The walk to the station was pretty straight forward, and I was feeling like quite the savvy New Yorker by the time I effortlessly swiped my card at the turnstile and continued down the stairs to catch the train.

I proceeded to feel like a savvy New Yorker all the way to my stop and up the stairs to street level.  I felt much less savvy when I looked around and had no idea where I was or how I was oriented. 

Thank goodness for technology.  I spent the six block walk to the TKTS booth with my nose to my iphone, watching my blinking satellite position grow closer and closer to my destination.  Five minutes later, two tickets to ‘Jersey Boys’ in hand, I made the walk back to the station [almost] iphone free, and caught the train back to the apartment.

A few hours later I was back on the subway, this time with my hubby by my side.  We got off in Manhattan at 42nd street, the most happening subway stop in the world.  Times Square was jam-packed with other broadway goers, tourists, and probably locals as well.  Chris and I held hands all the way to the theatre, not because it was our first date since last May, but because if we didn’t hold on, we would have lost each other in the river of people flooding the street.

“Jersey Boys” was amazing.  The music was spectacular and the scenery was unbelievable.  I love live theatre, particularly musicals, so I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.

After the show, we grabbed dinner at an Asian Fusion restaurant and finished off our night by sitting in the newly erected stadium seating across from the famous Times Square billboard.  It was close to midnight, and the place was possibly more crowded than it had been when we arrived.  The city may never sleep, but thirty year old parents of young children certainly do.  We called it a night and caught the train back to Brooklyn.

The next morning we enjoyed New York bagels for breakfast and a leisurely walk to the playground before loading up the car and heading home.  Fortunately, the flooding in Maryland had died down, and the trip home was a good four hours shorter than the trip up had been.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I absolutely adore NYC.  Can’t wait to go back!

Boo

Nicole, 11 months

If you asked me what Allison’s first word was, I’d probably say it was ‘yes’.  At least that’s the first word I remember her saying clearly and understandably.  She probably said quite a few words before that, but since I didn’t write them down, I have long since forgotten.

To avoid such uncertainty with Nicole, let it be known that her first word is “boo”.  As in ‘peek-a-boo’.  Sure, it sounds more like ‘buh,” but we all know what she means.  The first time she said it, Allison was lying under our bed.  She was playing peek-a-boo with Nicole by occasionally popping her head out from under the dust ruffle.  If Allison didn’t pop out fast enough, Nicole would yell “boo!” emphatically until she reappeared.

Nicole has recently added another word to her vocabulary:  “Allison”.  To the untrained ear it sounds a lot like, “AAAAAAAhhhh,” but once again, her intentions are clear.  Most mornings, Allison likes to accompany me to Nicole’s room when she wakes up, and Nicole is always delighted to see her.  When Allie is not with me, Nicole whips her head around on the diaper changer while shouting, “AAAAHHHHhhh?”  This continues all the way down the stairs until Nicole spots Allison, at which point she grins and pumps her little arms up and down.  Perhaps she is trying to wave; it’s hard to tell.  That particular gesture looks a lot like the cheerio dance.

In other news: Nicole is eleven months old today!  She claps.  She waves.  She dances.  She started crawling right around 10 months, and she has become quite proficient at it.  She zips around, her hands and knees slapping noisily against the wood floors so that we can always hear her coming.  She pulls herself up on everything, and she recently started letting go.  She can stand unassisted for all of a half a second before she falls on her bottom, grinning and obviously pleased with herself.

Nicole now has 8 teeth, four on top and four on bottom.  She uses them to help keep cheerios inside her mouth and to chew on teethers, stuffed animals, wooden table legs and the occasional finger.  I wish I could say she used them to eat ‘real’ food, but until today she refused to eat anything but pureed baby food and dry cheerios.  Today, she scarfed down half an oatmeal cookie, which I assume she enjoyed.  She was pretty sad when it was gone.

Her two favorite games are “get the teether” and “This time I will beat you to the stairs.”  “Get the Teether” is Allison’s brain child.  Allie hurls a teether across the room and Nicole crawls toward it as fast as she can while giggling hysterically.  Rinse.  Repeat.

“This time I will beat you to the stairs” is slightly more complicated.  Nicole waits for me to be sufficiently distracted at the computer before taking off toward the stairs.  About half-way there, she stops and looks at me expectantly until I turn around and tell her, “No, Nicole.  No stairs.”  Then she squeals with glee and races the rest of the way to the bottom of the steps, laughing mischeviously until I scoop her up.  The game ends with a few good arm pumps, which I think in this case means either, “I’m ready for my victory cheerio” or “I WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!!”

Irene

We started to take Hurricane Irene seriously last Thursday when we postponed our weekend trip to New York City.  A few of our friends that have lived in Southern Maryland for some time warned us that we should prepare to be without power (and water--we’re on a well) for at least a few days.

Those of you who follow my blog, Thirty by Thirty, know that I have been making a concentrated effort to rid our pantry of processed food items.  It’s been great for our health, but it’s not so good for an emergency.  We have very few items around that do not require refrigeration, preparation, or both.

Fortunately, I had already bought a few snacks meant for the drive to New York: about 10 granola bars, some simply fruit roll-ups, and a small bag of animal crackers.  Chris came home Friday evening with a couple cases of bottled water and two bags of cheesy popcorn to add to our meager supply of emergency rations.

Unfortunately, it had been so long since any of us had access to processed foods that we polished off both bags of popcorn and most of the animal crackers by Friday evening, a full 24 hours before the storm was expected to hit.

Saturday morning, we began phase one of our storm preparations.  We located as many flashlights as we could (2 wind-ups, one from the emergency kit of my car, and Allie’s pumpkin Halloween strobe light).  We filled our indoor swimming pool (aka the master bathtub) and the girls’ tub with water, and Chris pulled Allie’s blow up pool into the garage.  He also secured his garden as best he could, while I removed all of our non-perishables from the refrigerator (yes--I rescued the coke and placed it in our picnic cooler.  If I was going to be out of power and running water, I wanted to make darned sure I would not be out of cold coke).

Then we began phase two:  eat as much of our perishable food as possible.  We all had big glasses of milk, and Chris took care of the bacon.  Allison and I, for our part, made chocolate chip cookies with our remaining butter and some of the eggs.  Nicole, having no interest in perishable foods, spent her morning banging on the back door and watching the wind and the rain pour down.

It was only two o’clock when the power blinked for the first time.  Thankfully, I had done all the dishes and squeezed in one last shower, so I felt ready for the inevitable power failure.  We used our remaining few hours of electricity alternating between watching Strawberry Shortcake and the news and playing card games [No.  Sorry, Mommy, but Daddy already took my dolphin.  Go fish!].  At 4:45 pm, we lost power abruptly.

Nicole couldn’t care less, but Allison was devastated.  She kept pushing the power button on the TV hopefully and switching lights on and off occasionally.  “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be working soon,” she asserted.

By 6:00 pm, the wind and rain were really picking up, but because there was no thunder or lightening, the storm wasn’t really bothering the kids.  They went to bed with no more fuss than usual and were asleep in no time.  We waited a few hours before moving Nicole into her pack n’ play in the hall and Allie on to the blow up bed in our room (the tallest trees are on their side of the house, so we didn’t want them sleeping in their rooms). 

Chris and I congratulated ourselves (quietly) on a job well done--it seemed that against all odds we would be getting a good night’s sleep regardless of Irene.  We fell asleep happily listening to the combination of wind and pounding rain (it actually sounded just like waves on the Oregon coast).  Our elation lasted only until 3 am when Allie woke up.  She was so confused, and later so delighted, to find herself in our room that she just couldn’t settle down again.  She ended up choosing to have a long ‘quiet time’ in her room by flashlight.  It was neither long nor quiet, and nobody got much sleep after that.

By Sunday morning, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining.  It was still very windy, but gorgeous out.  Despite the extraordinarily fine weather, I was cranky.  Lack of sleep and modern conveniences is a bit of a deadly combination.  I stomped about with my swiffer sweeper and a bucket of water, alternately muttering under my breath and barking out orders until Chris had the good sense to suggest getting out to assess the damage.

Our property fared really well.  The backyard was muddy, but had very few leaves and branches strewn around.  One tree fell and landed about three feet from the side of the house, but there was no damage.  We decided to venture into town.  Some friends of ours were fortunate to have not only power, but an extra freezer, and we set out in the hopes of salvaging some of our more expensive frozen goods.

We took a right out of our driveway and made it around two curves before discovering a large tree, suspended by the power lines, blocking the road.  We turned around only to find more trees (and more down lines) blocking our alternate route.  Fortunately, there was a church driveway right before the trees, and we were able to get off of Happyland.

We passed dozens more trees that had already been cleared of the roads, and a couple of homes that were not as lucky as ours.  It was pretty obvious that the power would be out for some time.

Chris went back to work Monday morning, and the girls and I spent our days bumming showers and AC from friends who already had their power restored.  We would meet  for dinner after Chris got off work and return home for early bedtimes for the girls.

I missed the drone of the fan at night, which had been replaced by open windows and a loud chorus of cicadas and other creepy-crawlies that some lovingly refer to as ‘night music’.  To me, it’s not music at all.  I think of it more as the battle cries of millions of many-legged warriors waiting to infiltrate my house and bite me to death.  But I am prone to exaggeration.

At 8:30 pm on Wednesday, four days and four hours after losing power, we returned home from dinner to a tiny light by the door of our neighbor’s house.  I don’t think I have ever been so excited to see an illuminated doorbell.  The song and dance premiere of “We Have Power” was performed enthusiastically.

Allison headed straight for the power button on the TV and was allowed to watch just one show before bed.  I put Nicole to bed and then zipped through the house flipping on lights and plugging in everything with a power cord while Chris turned on our water pump.  Fifteen minutes later, the washing machine and dishwasher were running, the computer was on, and life as we know it (and prefer it) was back.

Good bye, Irene.  Don’t come again!

Superhero Magical Princess

I know some of you may be shocked, but we occasionally (okay, frequently) have discipline issues with Allison.  Mostly, she refuses to stay in bed at night.  We’ve tried a number of different techniques to deal with it, the most recent of which I refer to as ‘mommy play-time’. 

The method is simple:  what Allison loves to do more than anything in the world is playing barbies.  If she gets ready for bed without arguing or throwing fits, she gets to have mommy play-time for 15 minutes before her bedtime story.  If she is disobedient throughout the day, we take off mommy play-time minutes.  Simple, but brilliant, if I do say so myself.  And it’s really worked wonders; Allison has been doing much better lately.

The one flaw in this plan is that I am always the one who puts Allison to bed.  We decided to correct this minor glitch by instating ‘daddy play-time’ one evening.  Allie did not take the news well.  “Oh no, not DADDY play-time!” she screamed furiously.  We stood our ground.

Five minutes later, teeth brushed and PJs on, Allison waited in her room resignedly for Chris to show up with the newest editions to his collection:  The Hulk (complete with sword and shield) and Spiderman 2099.

Despite the fact that Allison is about as girly as they come, she has had some experience with superheroes.  Her barbie box is rather lacking in the prince department, so Juggernaut and Hulk are often asked to step in.  They are invited to Balls when dance partners are needed.  They make infrequent appearances as ‘Daddy’.  I have even seen Belle rescue her husband, Juggernaut, from the evil Hulk [“Don’t worry Cinderella, I can save him. I’m BRAVE!”].  But these were not quite the games Chris had in mind for daddy play-time.

He tried to show her how the superheroes could battle it out with their weapons, but before they could start, Allison insisted upon removing Hulk’s shield [“That might poke somebody, Daddy”].  She then proceeded to select Cinderella as her action hero.  Cinderella picked up Hulk’s sword and began whacking Spiderman 2099 with it.  “Piñata! Piñata! Piñata!” yelled Allie emphatically.

Apparently, my daughter’s weaponry education has been so poor that the only thing she could think to do with something long and bat-like was re-enact the piñata portion of her third birthday party.  I won’t say I’m not pleased, and I can’t wait to hear what happens at the next daddy play-time.

Dirty Thirty

My thirtieth birthday started out earlier than I had imagined it would.  In fact, it began at precisely 3:48 am.  At first, I hoped that Allie had appeared at the foot of our bed to wish me a swift ‘happy birthday’ and that she would just walk herself on back to bed.  But this was not the day for birthday miracles.  Her bug bites were bothering her, and she wanted cream on them.  I tried to muster some sympathy from my hubby, the wonder-sleeper, but nothing doing.  He just rolled over and left me to my early morning wake up call.

It was a brief two hours later that I awoke to those four little words every parent dreads:  “I’m having an accident.”  (Yes, that was the correct tense.)  “Happy birthday,” Chris said.  Yes.  Happy birthday to me.

Fortunately, Chris made what I believe was a very wise decision and called work to tell them he wasn’t coming in.  I got to sleep in until 9 am.  Maybe it was a day for birthday miracles after all.

I had already planned on taking the girls to our playgroup’s end of summer pool party, but with Chris off work, I was able to leave Nicole with him.  Allie and I packed up all of our swimming gear and headed to Happy Trails Ranch.  (Seriously.  I think King Candy must have swept in and named everything here.)  Anyway, I spent the afternoon of my 30th poolside, relaxing in the sun and watching my big grown up girl swim around in the pool all by herself.  Well, all by herself but for her purple life jacket, her ducky float, and a couple of noodles.  Sheer bliss.

When Allison had finally swam herself out, we packed up and went home to a happy, rested baby and daddy.  But my birthday was not all fun and games.  Oddly, the laundry had not done itself in my absence, and I had to play the birthday card not once, but THREE times to get out of changing diapers.

With just an hour or so before we were planning to meet friends for dinner, Allison decided to take a nap.  I used to be thrilled every time she would sleep during the day, giving me a much needed break.  However, she is such a nightmare to put to bed on days she naps now that I’ll usually try anything to get her to stay awake.  We propped her up on the couch and yelled her name loudly, but it was all in vein.  Allie, spawn of wonder-sleeper, was out.

Thankfully, she wakes up slightly faster than her daddy, especially when birthday cake is involved.  We managed to make it to the restaurant just a few minutes late.  We ate at The Island Crab Bar and Grill, a little place down the road with mediocre food, a fantastic view, and decadent triple chocolate mouse cake, the latter of which was brought to me free of charge by a group of 10 or so waiters and waitresses.  They stomped their feet and clapped their hands so vigorously that poor little Nicole, who is afraid of dogs, cats, and even Allison’s fake kitty, Lulu, burst into tears.  She was truly terrified.  I would have picked her up out of her high chair to comfort her, but my cake was there and I wanted to be able to use both of my hands.  To my credit, I shared.

After we got home and Chris put the kids to bed, we made Amaretto Sours and watched the movie, “Limetless.”  A perfect ending to a perfect day.  So far, my 30s are going swimmingly.

The view from The Island

On marriage...

On Marriage...

Allie was sitting on our recliner, looking up at our wedding photo.  “You look pretty in your dress, Mommy.”  She asked if I still had my beautiful dress.  I told her I did, but that it was all clean and put away in a box in case she might like to wear it one day if she decided to get married.  “I already decided to marry my daddy,” she announced.

I stifled a snort of laughter and broke the bad news, “Honey, you can’t marry Daddy.  Men can only marry one person [at a time], and I already married him.”

Allison truly looked like she was about to cry, “But then who may I marry, Mommy?!?”

Tattoos and Sleepovers

Allison and her friend Evelyn have been having sleepovers since they were two years old.  Allie stayed at Evelyn’s (under the supervision of super-mom, Carrie, of course) when we had Nicole, so we did a trial run before the big day to make sure everything would go smoothly.  It did.  Since then, the girls have begged us bi-weekly for more, more, and MORE sleepovers.  And Carrie and I have obliged.  Because if there is one thing better than a night off from bedtime duties, it’s having a live-in playmate for your social butterfly.  Nobody ever begs me to play barbies on sleepover nights.

Last night, we had the great pleasure of having Evelyn at our house.  The girls colored in Allie’s My Little Pony coloring book and made christmas cookies with play-dough.  They shared a bowl of Teddy Grams while they sat next to each other watching a movie.  They played pretend, they played dress up.  They painted their toenails purple, their favorite color aside from pink.  And then they got BFF tattoos.

Here’s to little girls:  may their friends always be forever, and may their tattoos always be temporary.

Funny Face

If I had a dime for every time I was out with Nicole and a random stranger told me, “Your baby is making the funniest face,”  we could retire early.  Every time we go to the grocery store, the park, the bounce house, etc, I wait for the inevitable tap on my shoulder:

“Excuse me, miss.  I just had to tell you; your baby is making the funniest face!”  And I know that it’s true.  Because one of these strangers actually took a picture before tapping me on the shoulder.  “I promise I will delete this, but I just had to show you!  Look at her face!”

I call it Nicole’s ‘stranger’ face.  It’s the look she gives people she doesn’t know, and I have to admit, it is a little funny.  She lets her mouth hang open slightly and sticks her tongue out a bit.  Her eyes get very big and she scrunches up one side of her nose.  I wish I had a picture, because words just hardly do it justice.  Next time someone hidden camera stalks us, I will be sure to have them send the picture to me before deleting it.

Nicole's "I know you!" Face

Second star on the right and straight on 'til morning

When you are pregnant with your first child, you carefully save little mementos for your baby-to-be.  The first sonogram pictures.  Maybe the cards people sent at your baby shower.  The baby arrives and you continue collecting treasures: baby’s first hospital picture.  The footprints and handprints.  You think about how cute all of these items will look in the baby book you have already purchased and can’t wait to start.

Then you take baby home.  If you are like me, all of the carefully accrued mementos stay neatly filed, waiting for you to get a spare moment between all the feedings, diaper changes, laundry and naps.  Suddenly, three years have gone by and your baby isn’t a baby anymore. 

The baby book is still empty, which is fine because now you have two kids.  And since you are no longer a new parent, you’ve got it all figured out, and you’ll have plenty of time to relax and work on baby books.  Except, it turns out that as a parent, you never have it all figured out.  The chaos that comes with a family of three is nothing compared to the chaos of a family of four.  And for us, all the beautiful/intense/exhausting/delightful chaos started right here on Happyland Road.

I kid you not.  We live on Happyland Road.  It’s just past Gumdrop Valley.  Take a left by the Peppermint Forest, second star on your right and straight on ‘til morning.  Okay, I may be exaggerating a tad.

Anyway, in an attempt to preserve some of the moments I’d swear I’d never forget, I am starting an online baby book in the form of this blog.  Maybe not so much a baby book, but a family book.  Or life book.  Because parenting is the ride of a lifetime, and in twenty years I hope to look back and remember it all with a smile and a laugh.  Hopefully a ‘haha, that was funny’ kind of laugh.  Not a maniacal-one-step-away from crazy kind of laugh.  But only time will tell.