Sugar and Spice

Bug has been struggling at swimming lessons. As much as she loves to take a bath and splash in puddles, she seems to hate being in the pool; or at least hates being at swimming lessons. She cries, screams, whimpers, clings and acts afraid of anyone who speaks to her. It is all very un-Bug-like. It got so bad last week we actually got out of the pool and went home. So last night there we were again, in the pool, kind, doting teachers surrounding us and mama trying like hell to act gleeful and chipper singing "Babies in the pool go splash, splash, splash" while Bug cries uncontrollably. Now, despite the hysterics, Bug dutifully fulfills each of her pool tasks. She walks the wall sobbing. She knocks down the turtles whimpering. She holds her breath and "swims" under water with tears streaming down her face.  She just seems to hate every minute of it (as do I). As we are checking off tasks on her chart, the teacher gets the idea to let her start jumping in to me. I ...

After what can only be described as a frigid winter (3 ice/snow days with actual ice/snow!!!), we are happy for longer days and sunshine!  I can finally quit having the same argument with Pumpkin every single morning before school ("Can I wear a dress today?", "No, it's too cold," "What if I wear tights?", "No, it's too cold," "What if I wear a jacket?," "No, it's too cold, maybe next week," "What if I wear boots?" "Fine, but it has to be a long sleeve dress," "But I'm wearing a jacket...") I've said it before and I'll say it again (but only here, where she can't hear me), there are times (many times) when I feel truly out-smarted by her. She is only 3. I have the advantages of vocabulary and literacy now, but sometimes I wonder what I will do when we are on more even ground (like, when she learns to read next year). A perfect example of her outsmarting me came as I...

Oh to have the heart and mind of a child. I know I say it all the time – it’s the siren song of this blog – but the thought hits me more than a few times every day that I share with my two precious girls. Pumpkin is 3 going on 30 and, although she thinks she knows everything, she still WANTS to know everything and an hour with her is guaranteed to present an almost endless stream of questions.   This was our conversation the other night while watching the Olympics (during the part of the games that she wasn’t passing out tickets to and engaging in her own performance in front of the television): Pumpkin:              Why is that man dancing with that flag? Me:                         He’s happy that he is at the Olympics representing his country. Pumpkin:      ...

It is, indeed, the most absolutely fantastical, magical, wonderful time of the year. As I drove to work this morning singing carols with the girls I could not help but remember a time where I was more grinch-like than Christ-like in my holiday preparations. I used to look towards the holidays cynically; gripe about the commercialization and groan at the cheer-givers in the elevator. Looking back I know now that it was me - I didn't allow the magic of Christmas into my heart. It was always there. Always has been. He always has been - that Christ-child whose coming we prepare for and celebrate during these crazy, glorious times. It took two new sets of eyes in the form of my awe-struck and awe-inspiring baby girls to really renew the spirit of the season in me. Christmas-time is no less hectic, no less commercial that before; traffic is as crazy as ever and people are as rude as ever. Yet, I now know beyond a shadow of any doubt that I am amongst God's creation at eve...

It has, indeed, been a long time coming...but I'm back. So much has happened, it's hard to know where to start. Bug has turned 1. Her party was great, though she wouldn't touch her cake. She's teetering around on her shaky feet trying to walk, but she can shimmy up the stairs faster than any creature on this Earth, be it two- or four-legged. Pumpkin continues to co-mother her with me. What would I do without her.  When I hear Bug crying, she makes sure to tell me Bug is crying. When I hear Bug babbling, she makes sure to tell me Bug is awake. When Bug is hungry, tired, or mad, she makes sure to tell me Bug is hungry, tired, or mad. When Bug escapes to the stairs, she makes sure to tell me Bug is on the stairs.  You get the picture. Halloween this year was interesting, to say the least.  It was the first Halloween that Pumpkin really understood what was going on and looked forward to it. I, for one, have always despised Halloween, though this year I found mys...

I admit, I'm always in a hurry. Most of the time for no good reason, other than I tend to over-extend myself and be a bit of a perfectionist; neither of which are good reasons. I rushed through college and then law school, beginning my "career" at 24. I wasn't even old enough to rent a car for my first out-of-town deposition.  I always wanted to and still usually do want to be done with whatever goal I'm working on. I've never been good at "enjoying the ride," "stopping to smell the roses," "carpe-ing the diem" or whatever. I live dangerously on the edge of missing out on things because I'm so anxious and focused on getting to the next goal line. That's why I'm recycling this song for my title - I've used it before but it hits me in the gut every time I hear it. I find myself telling Pumpkin to hurry up a lot. Especially in the morning, before I am sufficiently caffeinated and when we are undoubtedly running ...

As we are getting our first tastes of sweet fall air (only in the early morning and late evening, mind you, but still tastes), I have finally slowed down enough to write. We've had quite a summer between moving, Bug's first beach trip, Pumpkin's swimming lessons, and weeks and weeks of good ol' fashion fun in the sun. For those inquiring minds, be advised that Bug (despite her name) appears to hate all things elemental. From the sun to the sand, the waves to the wind, she was having NONE of the beach. The moment she hit the air conditioning at the condo, all smiles. I now know what it must have been like to raise me, but at least I found my own ride to the top of the mountain when I didn't want to hike. Aside from her disdain for the outdoors, Bug is growing like a weed. She's moments away from walking and every time we stand her up to "practice" she stares down at her feet with a look that says "come on feet, do your thing" followed by...