A haircut and a hiatus

Yesterday Mary got her haircut.  Even shorter.  In a moment of either brilliance or total stupidity I had the stylist cut her bangs really short.  (Brilliant:  Her bangs will be out of her eyes for six weeks.  Stupid:  Yeah, she looks a little dorky.)

In these pictures of Mary on the scooter (taken earlier today), you can see her shorter do.  No need to comment on how her bangs are so short that it looks like she had an unfortunate accident with a pair of sharp scissors.  Three weeks from now I suspect I will be pleased with my brilliant decision.

(In other Mary news, she had her second official day of nursery Sunday school today.  Last week we were told she did well, but she came home smelling like her nursery teacher, who smells very good, by the way.  So I suspect she spent the two hours being held.  Today Magical Mary slept the whole time in the arms of the nursery leader, who, incidentally, told me when I picked Mary up that I have a very, very beautiful daughter.)

And about the hiatus I mentioned in this post's title.  I'm taking a little blogging hiatus.  (Don't worry, Mom.  Only a week or two.)  I'd like to blame it on the 1200-page two-volume biography of Eleanor Roosevelt I decided to read.  But the truth of it is...my current inability to write coherent thoughts.  Correction:  It would be my current inability to think coherent thoughts.  The space in my head is a bit foggy and disorganized right now.  And, for the time being, I'm going to leave it that way.

I generally can't resist my yummy children, with whom I am fantastically infatuated, so you may see a picture or two, maybe.  But no complete sentences.<----See?  That's not even a complete sentence.

Eleanor is waiting for me.  See you in a few.

3 for 1 day

Here are three things that probably each deserve their own post, but, lucky for you, it's three for one day!  You get them quick and all at once.

1.  David's big plans

David told me today:  When I grow up I want to race motorcycles over big jumps.  I want to be on a motorcycle team.  I will wear a helmet and lots of clothes to protect me.  Alexis will be on my team.  I will have an orange motorcycle, and Alexis will have a pink motorcycle.  We will both win together.  I will see you at the race and wave to you.  Mary can't be on my team.  My team is not for babies.

2.  Mary's turn

Worrying is part of parenthood.  I expected it.  And I happen to be very good at it.  What I'm not so good at is making decisions...like when to worry.  Once I've decided to worry, I can take the ball and run.  But I struggle to decide whether to worry about something or not.  Like to worry or not about a 15-month-old who has no words yet.

I realized why Mary didn't have her 15-month well-baby appointment.  I assumed that, since she didn't have shots due, I accidentally let it slip my mind.  But I now know that I "forgot" to take her in because I didn't want some jittery first-year pediatric resident deciding for me.  I wanted to hear neither "Don't worry about it yet" or the alternative.  I reserved worry-decision rights for myself.  

By the time David had a follow-up appointment last month with the developmental pediatrician (who is the greatest doctor ever!!), I had made up my mind.  At seventeen months and with (barely) two words, Mary was behind where David had been at that age (and he's still playing catch up).  So when the doctor inquired about David's baby sister, he didn't have to say much to convince me that it was time to get Mary evaluated.  

Mary had her evaluation at Four Oaks on Tuesday.  We were assigned the same case-worker we had with David, and she put together the same team for Mary that David had.  It's been so fun to see everyone again.  When David entered the program, I was pregnant with Mary.  And here she was, a year and a half later, playing with the same teachers in the same classroom.  Julie and Fran were so looking forward to having Mary in their playgroup--they were sad to hear we're moving.  But happy to at least get to know Toddler Mary a little.

Mary is strong-willed and independent.  She's definitely not as compliant as her brother.  But her powers of concentration are amazing!  During the evaluation there was an especially difficult shape-matching task, and we all watched with amazement and breath held has she successfully and independently matched every shape.  We were all blown away!  Mary is one smart little girl.  

In the past two weeks her vocabulary has finally exploded.  She now has about a dozen words she uses regularly and just as many signs.  So I doubt the results of the evaluation will show very little, if any, delay in speech.  But at the IFSP (like an IEP) meeting, it will be good to chat with the speech therapist anyway...you know, it's always good to have guidelines on when to worry again.  Decisions, decisions.

3.  Wormer

David has a pet.  His pet is a dead worm he found on the driveway a couple of weeks ago.  His name is Wormer.  (Although, David recently informed me that Wormer is a girl.)

Here is David on the day he discovered Wormer.  He is standing over her to protect her from Mary...

...because Mary loves Wormer too...
The next day Wormer was gone, surely picked off by a bird, which isn't sad since he was already dead.  David was disappointed about his disappearance, until he realized that Wormer had simply gone to play with his friends, named Wally and Eva.

For a week all I heard about was Wormer.  How David got Wormer at a pet store and how he was going to live in a cage in our house to keep him nice and warm.  (Somehow I doubt a dead worm needs to be kept nice and warm.)  How David loves Wormer.  And Wormer loves David.  Once David started to say that Wormer is his best friend, but I interrupted him.  I just couldn't bear to hear my child say that his best friend is a dead worm.  A mother can only handle so much.  David also worked very hard to build Wormer a fancy house in the backyard.

To my surprise, David did not forget Wormer.  He started to become frantic about Wormer's return.  He would wander the yard, calling out, "Wormer!  Wormer!  Come home!  I made you a house."  In the parking lot at Target, he would yell for Wormer.  He became almost heart-broken.  The only thing that consoled him was the thought of Wormer frolicking with his friends.

Then one day, we heard a shout of joy from the backyard, "Wormer came home!  Wormer came home!"  We all rushed outside, and, indeed, there he was (or at least a relative of his)--and this time he was even alive.  David and Mary were both thrilled.

David was so happy that he wanted a picture of him and Wormer.  And he agreed to smile for the picture...

Soon after Wormer was spotted, David yelled, "Surprise!!  Wormer, I built you a house!  Come here.  Come over here!"  David was a little disappointed that Wormer did not come.  He was also disappointed that Wormer does not say anything.  I suppose David could have picked up Wormer, but it never crossed his mind.  He not once even touched Wormer, not even the original dead one.  Clearly, this relationship lives primarily in his imagination.

This is the kind of pet I can handle.  An imaginary friend.  A faithful imaginary worm who received regular phone calls from our hotel room in Chicago.  No messes to clean, pet food to buy, vet bills to pay.  Yes, this is the kind of pet my kid can have.  

Should I feel guilty that the only pet I will allow my son to have is an imaginary dead worm?

A picture for my proverbial locker

As I was slowly digging myself out of my email inbox earlier today, I came across this email sent from my brother last Wednesday:

I spent a good ten minutes (that rounds up to .2 in billable hours time) looking on the internet for a good picture of him as a college age football player, young aspiring CIA guy, etc.  But there are not any!!!! (I tried a bunch of different search terms.)  And this is the best I could find.

Love Andy

How sweet.

(By the way, though I can be slow to respond at times, I do enjoy an inbox filled with love.  It's nice to read something from someone other than Barack Obama.  It's nice to read something from you.  And you don't even have to attach a picture of Robert Gates to win my heartfelt appreciation.)

Another romantic anniversary

Yesterday Greg and I enjoyed yet another really romantic anniversary together.  They've been especially romantic ever since we had kids.  (Are you sensing my sarcasm?)  Last year we celebrated our anniversary by piling our kids in the car for a trip to Kirtland, the highlight of which was this.

To celebrate seven years of marriage (which, by the way, have been fabulous, and that's not sarcastic), on our anniversary Greg and I

--viewed dinosaurs to a soundtrack of whining

--watched a calf be born--it doesn't get any sexier than that

(thank you, Fair Oaks Farm, for the weird experience of watching a calf be born in an amphitheatre)

--and endured the longest 300-mile drive of my life

As usual we shared our anniversary with these cuties...

...and that's okay.  We made 'em and we love 'em.

But I do harbor hopes of an anniversary celebration, just the two of us, someday.  Next year I think we will be meeting on Skype.  But maybe the year after that...

April 18, 2011.  Anyone want to babysit? 

[For the record, our trip to Chicago was great.  Greg and I enjoy exploring new cities together, and it brought to mind many good memories.  And there were so many things our children loved, from subway trains to elevators to fountains.  There is something supremely romantic about holding hands, watching your children shout with glee.]

Chicago: The Field Museum

Yesterday morning I enjoyed my last made-to-order omelet.  How I will miss the Embassy Suites.  Then we packed up, checked out, and called for our car.  

I dedicate this picture of a Chicago hotel revolving door to my dad and my brother Andy.

David was very sad we were leaving, and he told me he wanted to stay in Chicago for five days more.  We hoped to cheer him up with the long-awaited visit to the dinosaur museum (aka "The Field").

Mary's self-appointed mission in Chicago became a search for "bubbles"--her definition including fountains, rivers, pools, and giant metal beans.  Here she is excitedly pointing to this fountain near Soldier Field and exclaiming, "Bubble!"

This is Sue!  She is the tallest, longest, most complete, and best quality T. rex  in the world.  She's awesome.
(By the way, I've decided that instead of a road, scholarship, or new hospital wing, I'd rather have a huge T. rex fossil named after me.  That would be cool.  Sue was named for Sue Hendrickson, the woman who discovered her.  I guess if I want a T. rex named for me I'd better start digging.)

Somehow in the mile between our hotel and front steps of the Field Museum, David's gleeful mood had turned to one of crankiness...and never ending whining.  But we'd been talking about "the dinosaur museum" all week, so, in spite of his insistence to "go home," we were pressing forward, by golly.

The really good thing about the Field is that you walk through the Evolving Planet exhibit to reach the dinosaur fossils.  It's a fascinating walk that begins in Precambrian time.  It wasn't just the fancy-pants bells and whistles that so many museums have these days.  It was interesting and in-depth and truly educational.

The really bad part about the Field is that you walk through the Evolving Planet exhibit to reach the dinosaur fossils.  It's a long walk before you ever get to the Mesozoic Era.  David was grouchy to being with, and he wasn't too keen on what Earth was like in the Precambrian time (all the volcanoes and meteors), which only added to his bad attitude.  But we pushed ahead to the dinosaurs.  

It was worth the whining!

I learned that a Brontosaurus is really an Apatosaurus.  The confusion between the two was cleared up in 1903.  Yes, 1903.  What kind of science textbook were we using in my third grade class?!  One published in 1897?

Here is an Apatosaurus (not a Brontosaurus):
And a few other dinosaur fossils:


As well as some cool Ice Age animals:
By the time we had walked through the Evolving Planet exhibit, our ears had grown accustomed to the constant whine, so Greg and I figured we might as well check out another exhibit.  So we walked through the new Ancient Americas exhibit.  Very interesting.  I wish we could have taken more time.  What a great museum!

Oh, and for Mary, who likes looking at animals (dead or alive), we paused to look at some mammals of Asia and some woodland birds.  (She was especially excited to see the birds, as "bird" is one of her new favorite signs.)

Eventually the whining beat us down, and we left.  But Greg and I had had a great time.  (And, yet again, we'd had free admission!!--so we didn't feel too bad for not staying long.)

We skipped the must-see Shedd Aquarium.  Oh well.  Their best exhibits are closed right now for renovation, so we didn't feel too bad.  And sometimes it's just time get in the car and go home, you know.

I leave you (for now) with this classic picture.  It's Mary running into the road outside the Field Museum, and David chasing after her, and Greg chasing both of them.

Chicago: Magnificent Mile

Friday, after those much-needed naps, we walked along Michigan Avenue.  Our first stop was the Lego store, where David and Mary happily played, and Greg wandered the store, taken back to his childhood.

David and Mary each got a Lego set.  I suppose it was inevitable the moment we walked into the store.  (For the record, they didn't even ask--it was their parents who couldn't resist.)

We continued our walk down the Magnificent Mile, stopped to eat pretzels for dinner (I love being on vacation), and skipped the American Girl store (Mary, the future is not now).

Finally we arrived at the John Hancock Center, which we would soon be ascending. 

David and I first stopped to check out this really, really, really fast car.
Then we bought our tickets and crammed into a surprisingly small elevator.  It might have been small, but the elevator was fast (supposedly the fastest in North America?), and shot us to the 94th floor in 40 seconds.  (Ouch!  Our poor ears!)

At the top we were provided with a free audio guide.  There was even a kids audio guide.  The result was a supreme mess of tangled wires and cords for the duration of our visit.  But David and Mary thought they were hot stuff with their "video games," and Greg and I could look at the views in relative peace.
Mary and her headphones.

Ninety-four flights is pretty far up there!  The tall shadow in the middle is us.



Skyline.  The tall silver building on the right is the Trump building, and the black building on the far right is the Sears Tower.
We then retraced our steps along Michigan Avenue and returned to the hotel, where David and Mary were anxious to play with their new Legos.

To ensure that our children were 100% wiped out by bedtime, we took one last dip in the pool (which Mary calls "bubble," as somehow "bubble" has come to mean water).  It worked.  They were pretty much comatose by the time we got them into their pajamas.
(By the way, in the above picture David is looking at a Lego catalog, deciding what he's going to get the next time we go to Chicago.)

It was a fabulous evening.  

Chicago: Navy Pier

Yesterday morning we walked down to Navy Pier to check out the Children's Museum.  On our way to the museum, Mary and Greg stopped to meet Bob Newhart.

Mary liked his shoes.
And we checked out the pier.  It was a gorgeous day!

Greg and I would give the Chicago Children's Museum mixed reviews.  (But, again, we got in free with our Boonshoft membership!)  David and Mary loved it!  And it was so good for them to get down and play and play and play.

Despite our fun morning, back at the hotel we wondered why we even bother leaving the hotel.  There's elevator rides...

...and playing in the rocks in the lobby.  (They also love watching the fountain, and Mary says "bubble" every time she sees it.)

(Isn't she cute?!)

(I will not admit to you how much running around the hotel there has been.  But it's an Embassy Suites, so there's lots of kids, and ours fit right in to the chaos.)

Yesterday afternoon was mandatory naps for all--and no one objected--we were exhausted.  Then it was off to the Magnificent Mile.

Chicago: Why I should get the best mom award today

I had big plans of dragging everyone to free night at the Art Institute.  (How could we come all the way to Chicago without seeing Nighthawks?)  But then, in a moment of clarity, I decided to sacrifice my evening at the museum in favor of subway rides to nowhere in particular and deep-dish pizza.

It was definitely worth it.

The Red Line

Millennium Park

See that diamond-shaped building?  That's the "Adventures in Babysitting" building.  (Most of what I know about Chicago I learned from "Adventures in Babysitting.")
Above and below, that's "the bean."  Mary called it "bubble."
The El train.  (Speaking of "Adventures in Babysitting," we survived our ride on the El train.  On that childhood trip to Chicago, I was convinced I was going to get stabbed in the foot on the El train.)



We ended the evening with some yummy Chicago style pizza.  Mary was a big fan.

Wandering the streets of Chicago together on a beautiful Thursday evening beats even Sunday Afternoon in the Park.