Happy birthday to my blog

Happy birthday to my blog!  

Half a dozen decadent chocolate cupcakes were found on my front step this evening.  (Thank you, Jocelyn.)  What a lovely coincidence.  

It's been one whole year.  And over four hundreds posts.  (Yikes!  That's an average of more than one post a day.  I guess I'm addicted, or something...)

I'd take a few minutes to reflect on the past year...if chocolate cupcakes weren't calling out to me.

Happy end of March.

Drive to survive: Huffman prairie

We seriously cannot survive Sunday afternoon in this family without a drive.  

I think I have mentioned the Sunday afternoon drive before (here and here).  What I may not have impressed upon you is the fact that this is for survival.  (How do families endure quiet Sunday afternoons at home together?  What are we missing?  Do we need a bigger house?  More toys?  Better board games?  Different children?)  

So when it comes to Sunday afternoon, a drive is undoubtedly on the agenda.  Who cares if it's cold and rainy and you have to take two cars?

Yesterday we drove to Huffman Prairie, where the Wright Brothers learned to fly.

Like I said, it was cold and rainy and we had to take two cars.

Mary insisted on braving the weather to join her grandfather.  (But she was also happy to return to the warm car soon thereafter.)

It's a rather inspiring place, with huge white flags fluttering across the field, marking Orville and Wilbur's different successful flights.  We're glad we could take Grammy and Grampy for a look.

And unlike his little sister, David opted to stay in the car.  Which is just fine, because I think this...

may be what the Sunday afternoon drive is all about.

A good time in Dayton

While Greg's parents are here, David and Mary are showing them a good time. 

This includes, of course, rides in the wagon for everyone, Grampy included.

And a good old-fashioned game of tag in the backyard.
And an evening at the park.  (It was this trip to the park that inspired Grammy to say that Mary is a maniac.  Well, and the fact that Mary ran around in circles so long that she puked.  Yes, she is a maniac.)




David and Mary also took Grammy and Grampy on a hike at John Bryan State Park.  Mary gave Grampy the pleasure of carrying her on his back the whole way.  (Apparently she appreciated this because she's been smitten with him ever since.)  The hike was good for the soul, and the new, tiny flowers and buds gave me hope that spring really is here.



A visit to Ohio is never complete without a trip to the farm.  And ice cream.



David also took his grandparents to the Boonshoft Museum, as well as the Discovery Garden.  And tomorrow on the agenda is the Wright Brothers bike shop and the Air Force Museum.

David and Mary are enjoying their time with Grammy and Grampy.

By the way, they can show you a good time in Dayton too.  But you'd better come soon.  They aren't going to be here much longer.

An extended twelve months

Um, so this twelve months is going to be a little bit longer than I had expected.  

Here's the thing.  With graduation being last Thursday, we should be outta here.  Yesterday.  But we're not.  Greg still has not received his next assignment.  

The idea was to experiment with a blog for one year, the last twelve months of our life in Ohio.  But our life in Ohio is continuing on for a still undetermined amount of time (3 weeks?  3 months?)...and so my blog is continuing on.  Until I live someplace else.

As for what is to become of my blogging habit...I haven't decided.  

Distinguished grad (distinguished dad)

Yesterday was Greg's special day.  

The morning began with an awards ceremony, which are always more fun if you are receiving an award.  So for Greg it was double fun.  He was honored with an award from the Society of American Military Engineers for "superior scholarship, outstanding leadership, character and initiative."  The big surprise of the morning occurred when Greg was named a "DG."  DG means Distinguished Graduate, and it's a prestigious title bestowed upon a select handful of students.  

Greg can thank Mary for the element of surprise:  Greg truly believed he was not competitive for DG because of one little A-minus, which he owes to Mary, who chose to be born the week of an important assignment in a difficult class.  Kudos to Greg for blowing off his homework the week Mary was born.  (This is where the "distinguished dad" bit comes in.)  And kudos to the universe for landing him with the DG award anyway.  He deserved it. 

In the afternoon Greg's parents arrived, and they immediately treated us all to a yummy lunch/dinner at The Cheesecake Factory in celebration.  Their arrival also means good times for my kids.

Graduation was in the evening.  It was pretty much like any other graduation.  Except that the graduates wore uniforms instead of caps and gowns.  (I can't write this post without commenting on how much I don't like the Air Force's service uniform.  Secretary Gates, I'm still waiting for that phone call.  You're really missing out on all my good ideas.)  Also, the ceremony took place in the Air Force museum, which is cool.  How many people get to receive their diplomas with a Boeing fighter jet prototype pointed at their heads?

Also, what may set this graduation apart from all others is the fact that the graduates actually received their diplomas!  They don't have to wait three months for them to arrive in the mail.  Check out this picture.  That's the man's real diploma:

I owe General Gabreski a sincere public apology for posting this picture of her on the Internet:
These two ghosts are Greg and his father, Steve.  They are posed in front of a B-2.  Long ago, in a career far, far away, Greg's dad was a B-2 maintenance officer.
And don't say I never post pictures of myself on my blog.
Congratulations, Greg!  I love you.

Another drive with a destination

Yesterday's Sunday afternoon drive took us to the not-really-all-that-famous Miamisburg Mound.  The Miamisburg Mound is the largest conical burial mound east of the Mississippi.  It's attributed to the Adena culture (1000-200 BC).  It was big enough to impress our kids. 

From the top there is a view of this lovely Superfund site, where the neutron generating triggers for the first plutonium bombs were developed.  (Did you know there was a "Dayton Project" within the Manhattan Project?) 

Perhaps no community is really complete without its own Indian burial mound and toxic waste site.  Where else would we drive to on a Sunday afternoon?

Indiana for a day

Yesterday we drove across the state of Indiana to visit Leah, my dear friend and former mission companion.  

After two hours of driving we stopped at the very big Indianapolis Children's Museum.  Mary had a great time practicing her jumping and climbing and sliding skills in the toddler area.  David liked pretty much everything.  (Except for the Batmobile.  Just the day before David had seen a Batmobile action sequence from The Dark Night--thank you, Best Buy--which he'd been excitedly talking about nonstop.  But when it came to facing that very Batmobile, which was on display, he opted to keep his distance.  A very long distance.  I like that he's sensitized--he's only three!--but I'm sure a few more trips to Best Buy will fix that.)  Greg and I liked the dinosaurs.

Here is a picture of David and Mary at the museum in a race car.  Very appropriate.  This was Indianapolis, after all.

After a stop at a yummy Bajio Grill (thank you for the tip, Leah), we drove the final hour.  

David couldn't wait to meet his new friend Noah.  (He'd looked carefully through the Christmas pictures on Leah's blog spying the toys he would want to play with.)  His expectations were fulfilled--fun toys and, even better, a new friend.  It was a beautiful day, and Leah and I spent the afternoon outside watching our children play.  (Isn't that what you always hope for with your friends?  To grow up and watch your children play together one day?)

Noah, David, and Mary in the wheelbarrow:

And Baby Ian:
Chris treated us to some great barbecue chicken and his famous perfect chocolate chip cookies. Double yum.   

Chris and Greg talked PhD stuff.

The kids played.

And the best part?  Catching up with Leah, of course.  We hadn't seen each other since I was pregnant with David.  But, despite four kids between the two of us, it was like no time had passed at all.  When two people spend months and months walking the streets of Villa Mella (and Higuey) together, they can't help but get to know each other really well.  And when one of those people is as awesome as Leah, it's impossible not to become life-long friends.  I consider myself very blessed to count Leah as one of my friends.  

It was good to see her.

When bed time rolled around, we dressed the children in pajamas, said our good-byes, and we were back on the road again, headed for Ohio--with a big bag of chocolate chip cookies.  

Mary is like a box of chocolates

After several recent successful attempts, when I dropped Mary off at the childcare room in the Y this morning, she had a complete meltdown.  Boo.

In an even more surprising turn of events, when we returned to the Y this evening for a Friday night of swimming, Mary was so excited that she jumped in the pool.  Literally.  (Greg was there to catch her.)  Mary hates swimming at the Y so much that I don't even bother wearing a bathing suit anymore.  I inevitably end up sitting five feet from the edge of the pool with Mary on my lap nervously sucking her pacifier.  But tonight Mary was a different person.  She kicked, she splashed, she stood on the edge of pool and jumped.  Again and again. 

You just never know with Mary.

But that is not the point of this post.  The point is this:  Have you ever wanted to hold onto a memory, fold it up and put in your pocket to pull out again later, not just to savor or remember--but to actually live again?  Have you ever lived a moment, and, you knew, at the time, in the moment, that you would need that moment again in the future?  And you wouldn't be able to live that moment again, because by then it would be just a memory?  

That is how I felt watching Greg with his daughter tonight.  It was perfect.  Their smiles and laughter.  Their wet noses touching.  His reassuring hands guiding her through the water.  His arms holding her close.  I watched the way he looked into her face.  That is a man who loves his daughter.

I am going to miss that moment.  I am going to need that moment again.  But when I pull it out of my pocket to unfold, to smooth out the creases, it will be a memory.  And memories are never perfect.

But at least I will have the memory, as crinkly as it may be.

Spring?

The weather yesterday evening being absolutely perfect, we decided to head over to the bike trail.  

David was ecstatic about the idea . . . until we arrived and there were no friends to be seen.  For David, nothing is fun without friends.  In his mind, he imagined a bike ride with friends--but the plan was in his mind alone.  What a disappointment.  Oh the whining that ensued . . .

David was too downtrodden to ride his bike . . . 
So Mary did!  And David lounged in the stroller.  It was quite the role reversal . . . 
It was a dream come true for Mary, and she took it very seriously. . . 

Greg was oh-so patient and pushed Mary along on that bike for a very long distance.  But finally it was time to put Mary in the stroller too . . . 


We concluded our spring evening with a stop for frozen custard.  Yum . . .

But can I make a confession?  How I have looked forward to spring . . . yet I'm not sure how I feel about its being here.  For one, I had secretly hoped for one more big snow storm.  One more round of mittens and sleds and snowmen.  Really.  I suppose it could still happen.  If it does, please don't blame me for it.  And I still reserve the right to complain.  Hmm.  Maybe that's what I'm going to miss about winter--the right to complain.  It's hard to find anything to complain about these days.

Dream

David and Mary have a dream.  A dream of taking a nap together, snuggled beneath a shared blanket, heads laid side by side on a single Lightening McQueen pillow.  

(This is what we call around here "a bad idea.")

Each day around one o'clock, Mary and David, who have until this point spent the day annoying the snot out of each other, suddenly become all hugs and loves and giggles and snuggles.  They climb onto David's bed, and, glued together with mutual adoration and strong embraces, they stare up at me longingly.  Those beautiful eyes, two brown and two blue, plead, "Don't separate us.  Please, please, mother dearest, don't force us apart.  It will break our heart."

How my own heart melts.  But not so much that my powers of reasoning are handicapped.  I know it's a bad idea.  I know that a nap together would be no nap at all.  In less time than I could draw the curtain, their affection would deteriorate into eye-pokes and rib-jabs.  But the idea, as bad as it is, is so sweet...

And I wonder if they remember. 

I wonder if they remember all those naps the three of us took together on that bed.  David, scrunched against the wall, with me precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress, while Mary, just weeks old, lay between us, delicately cradled in my arm.   How did all of us manage to sleep in such an arrangement?   Yet we did it, day after day.  Do they remember those quiet afternoons, the two of them (and me too) pressed together on the bed?  Do they remember how happy they were when Mary joined our family, and they were reunited again?  Do they remember that they had recognized each other?  Are they yearning for the peace of the past?

Or is their afternoon ploy yet another passive-aggressive, manipulative attempt to postpone nap time?

I suspect it's the latter.  

But I can hope.  (David and Mary aren't the only ones who can have a dream.)

8 pictures

Sometimes when I am feeling stressed out, I cope by posting pictures of my children.  Like this.  Oh, and especially this.  (Twenty-five pictures of a Thursday afternoon?!  My stress level must have been through the roof!!)

Today I am posting 8 pictures.  I must be only moderately stressed out.

These are all from Sunday afternoon.  (I think spring may have really arrived.)

Mary is a busy girl.  It can be tough to catch her in action with the camera:

Oh, and, yes, she's wearing only her tights.  Mary doesn't really like dresses and skirts.  She usually insists that her dress come off the moment we walk in the door from church.

Here she is experimenting with gravity using the giant orange dump truck:

Forget handmade carpets.  I think that giant orange dump truck is the best (or WORST) thing we brought back from Turkey.  (Thank you, weird crappy overpriced ToysRUs at the mall in Adana.)
This is David's boo-boo.  Can't see it?  It's smack dab in the middle of his hand--and tiny.  Quite the wound there.  The best part about boo-boos is that David pronounces it "bew-bew."  David insisted that I take a picture of his "bew-bew":

Actually, I only agreed to take a picture of his "bew-bew" if he would smile for the camera once for me:

Classic pout:

And, finally, here is an anonymous message someone at our pi(e) party left:
(I agree with whomever wrote this.)

I wonder:  How many pictures will I post tomorrow?  (Just kidding.)