The Butterfly House

This morning we made a trip to Cox Arboretum to visit the Butterfly House. On our way there, David announced that he wanted to see an orange butterfly first. Fortunately, there were plenty of monarchs, and he did indeed see an orange butterfly first. The Butterfly House was fascinating! There were butterflies and moths in all the stages of metamorphosis. By the time we left, David was explaining to us the life cycle of butterflies.

David pointing to a butterfly:
David pointing to a caterpillar:
Mary hanging out on the grass with her dad: (Yes, Greg was there. Ah, the life of a student.)
David decided he needed to do a jig with his sister:

Cheerio-fest 2008

Upon my return from giving David positive reinforcement in the bathroom, I found this:
Mary was so pleased to be stuffing her face full of Cheerios. David was concerned ("Oh no!!" he exclaimed, "Mary made a big mess!"), but he was more than happy to sweeper up the Cheerios. He even emptied out the sweeper himself--and Mary got her hands in those Cheerios too. (Gross! Cheerios off the floor--that's okay. But Cheerios that have gone through the sweeper--yuck!) David was very helpful, but didn't manage to clean up all of them. He left quite a few for Mary to munch on all afternoon, which she did.

Playgroup at the Discovery Garden

This week for playgroup we met at the wonderful Children's Discovery Garden. David had a fabulous time. Alexis, the oldest, served as an excellent tour guide: She kept the kids together, and led them through the garden, stopping to explore each area.

David and friend Lauren, working together in the build-a-garden area:

All the big kids under the waterfall:

David, Alexis, Caleb, Joseph, Seth, Lauren

When we left, David cried, "More garden! More friends!"

We stand corrected

Greg and I were each corrected, very sternly, by David this evening.

David showed Greg the Spiderman picture he had colored at the Y.
--Greg said, rather absentmindedly, "Wow. I love Spiderman."
--David corrected him, "No, ME love Spiderman!"

David was looking so cute after our bike ride, with helmet hair, flushed cheeks, and those big blue eyes.
-- So I said, "David, you're adorable!!"
--"No!! I'm a boy!"

Olympic dreams

For me, the Olympics have lost some of their appeal over the years.

When I was growing up, I loved the Olympics. Remember when the summer and winter games were in the same year, so it was like a huge year-long celebration? When you're 1o, something that happens only every four years seems like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I cried during the closing ceremonies of the '88 games, wondering if I would live long enough to see the next Olympics--they seemed so far away.

For me, Olympics was synonymous with gymnastics. I grew up watching biannual rebroadcasts of Nadia and seeing Mary Lou Retton show off her gold medal on a Wheaties box (and who cares if the Soviets weren't there--there was no asterisk on that cereal box!). This means I, along with most of you, grew up wanting to be an Olympic gymnast. Never mind the fact I was so inflexible that even as a spry 8-year-old, I couldn't even touch my toes. (I always dreaded fitness testing day in P.E. because of that darned flexibility portion.) I don't pretend that I had any clue what it really took to make it to the Olympics. For instance, I told all my friends that my cousin Melinda was going to the Olympics. That's because she could do a back handspring. A back handspring seemed such an impossible feat, that by my estimation there could be only about 10 or 12 people in the entire world who could do one. So my cousin was obviously Olympic material. But I wasn't totally naive: I told my friends that she probably wouldn't win a gold medal.

Despite my obvious lack of talent, not only did I want to be an Olympic gymnast, I truly believed I could. The future was wide open. I could be anything I wanted, which is why I didn't get around to being a gymnast right away. I was busy considering other options--veterinarian, zookeeper, Olympic figure skater (of course), photographer, artist, architect, novelist, swimmer, lawyer, doctor, teacher, basketball player, actor, fashion designer, scientist, track star. But Olympic gymnast was always there in the back of my mind. All I had to do was choose, to say "I will be an Olympic gymnast," and with a little work, it would happen. I loved that feeling--the feeling that the future was wide open, the possibilities endless. That's why I loved the Olympics as a child, because I wanted to be the athletes, and I believed I could...when I got around to it.

That's why the '92 games hit me like a brick. For the first time, I realized I was not going to be an Olympic gymnast. I was 14. I was too late. I felt the future closing in on me. I wasn't so naive at age 14 as to think that I really could have become an Olympic gymnast (I never could do more than a cartwheel), but I was uncomfortable with the feeling that I had missed chances in life, that I was getting older, that not all paths were open to me anymore. I started to wonder about all the other things I wasn't going to be. That's when the Olympics lost some of its appeal. The athletes were a reminder of what I wasn't and what I couldn't be, and I didn't like that feeling.

Remember the '96 Women's Gymnastics competition? Shannon Miller, Dominique Dawes, and the rest of the "Magnificent 7"? Remember Kerri Strug's courageous vault, on an injured ankle, that won Team U.S.A the gold? Wow! That's as good as it gets. But, still, I was vaguely uncomfortable as I watched. They were my age, exactly, and I felt weird about that. Because I couldn't relate to them. I tried to imagine what they were feeling--but all I could come up with was the time I scored 4 points in a church basketball game. Hmmm...Like I said, I couldn't relate, to the triumphs, or the disappointments. (As Gail Collins writes today, "Really, you have to be able to imagine yourself getting on the balance beam before you can relate to the pain of falling off.") The worst part of the '96 Olympics, though, was, as an 18-year-old and a bit wiser to the ways of the world, realizing that back in '88, when the future seemed as if it were full of endless possibilities, it was already too late for me to be an Olympic gymnast. Things like that start when you're like 3.

So I guess we had better get started if David is going to be an Olympian. Gymnast? He's been doing somersaults for over a year. Swimmer? He has a long torso like Michael Phelps. Diver? He loves the diving board. Soccer? He can sure kick a ball. Wrestler? He gets lots of practice with Mary. Perhaps we should have a serious discussion with him--he can speak in complete sentences now, after all--about the one dream we can work towards, so we can efficiently cross everything else off the list. But I think I would rather David have a childhood like mine, a time when he is blissfully oblivious that his options are limited, a time when the possibilities feel endless, the future expansive, and all dreams remain in tact.

As for me and my Olympic dreams? I am keenly aware that Dara Torres is 41. That gives me ten years. Apparently, all I need is a little money, science, and effort. I'm still dreamin'.

My son would like to type his name for you in his favorite color

DAVID

Some observations of David at a baptismal service

Last night we attended a baptismal service. My new friend Jenny's sons were getting baptized, and I thought it would be nice if we all went. I have three things I would like to record about David at the baptism.

1) On our way out of the door, I suddenly realized that we should take a moment to talk to David about baptism. (I wish I could say that my intention was to help him understand more about the teachings of Jesus. But mostly I thought I ought to explain what it was so he didn't think he was going swimming. I had visions of him trying to jump into the baptismal font!) I think our quick thirty-second tutorial, complete with a picture I scrounged up from the Gospel Art Kit, was worth it. David knew to take the service seriously, and, during the actual performance of the baptisms, while he was sitting up in front, right at the edge of the font, with all the other children who wanted a good look, he was very reverent. Just after the baptisms, he looked genuinely touched by the experience. I was surprised. I guess I never expected my impatient, exuberant, often silly three-year-old to feel the Spirit of the Lord. But why wouldn't he feel the same peace of God that I was feeling? Sometimes I forget that David, as a young, innocent child, so recently having left God's presence, is probably more in tune with things spiritual than I, even though he doesn't have the words to explain it.

2) The opening song was "I Am a Child of God." David grinned upon recognizing the song, and confidently sang along. (Three years of singing him to sleep is paying off!)

3) We think David may have developed something of a crush on his friend's 7-year-old sister. She was there last night, and she was clearly the center of his attention. When she was around, he was suddenly "too cool" for Mom and Dad. She was passing out programs, and after she handed one to David, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He wanted so badly to go sit on the front row with her and her friends. He looked so longingly at those girls in the front row that I finally marched him up there and asked if he could sit with them. They were kind, and didn't seem to mind at all. David was so pleased to sit right next to the object of his admiration. I could tell he was eager to engage her in conversation. He looked her in the face, and with great confidence, told her, "I have a little pocket." He did indeed have a little pocket. Two, in fact, in his blue plaid shorts. I hope I never forget the image of the cute little boy, who thought of himself as such a big boy, trying to impress the older girl...by pointing out the pocket in his pants. It was adorable. And I think it was the best come-on line ever.

Three pictures of David eating a chocolate ice cream cone

Time for a Mary update

• Mary provides an ongoing soundtrack for her life. She is always humming, babbling, blowing, cooing, moaning, squealing, "velociraptor-ing," whining, or giggling. Or crying--she does that too sometimes.
• Mary spends part of the night in her crib, part in our bed, and part in, yes, her infant car seat. (I think she may still be sleeping in her car seat when she's in kindergarten.)
• Mary loves the sweeper, but is scared of the vacuum.
• Mary's motto: Why allow someone else to put something in your mouth when you can do it yourself? This means, effectively, that if she can't feed it to her herself, she won't eat it. (Baby food is out--not that it was ever in.) Mary is also very particular about what she eats--she will try something once, and probably eat it with gusto, but she most likely won't eat it again, insisting on Cheerios instead. (David was an adventurous eater as a baby, and, of course, I took credit for this. Fortunately, I have Mary to humble me.)
• Mary loves to clap. Whenever she hears music, she claps her hands. (It's sooooo cute!)
• Mary has discovered new and exciting ways to throw around her 17+ pounds of body weight as a demonstration of her insistence to (fill in the blank). She can be stubborn, and I think I've seen the seeds of temper tantrums. (David's toddlerhood didn't include many tantrums--I have a suspicion Mary's might be different.)
• Mary is busy, busy, busy! She is cruising along the furniture, and she can walk holding just one of our fingers. We suspect she may walk soon. (But what do we know? Not much! We were way off in our predictions with David.)
• Mary is getting a tooth. Finally! It's coming in very slowly.
• Mary is helpful. Seriously. Often a number of her pacifiers will end up under her crib, against the wall. I hate climbing down to get them. But if I send Mary under there, she will retrieve them all for me. (Mary also likes to help with the laundry--but usually her "help" isn't so helpful.)
• Mary still loves her brother, tries to play with his trains and cars, and can still hold her own in a wrestling match. (In fact, these days, it's usually Mary who starts it.)
  

And no one drowned!

We did it! Ever since the beginning of summer, we have been hoping we could manage to take the whole family (including those two active kids of ours) kayaking. The weather was gorgeous today, and we were feeling brave. Except for David climbing on top of the car while Greg was loading the boats, and David using my paddle as a shovel, and Mary trying to paddle the kayak all by herself, everyone cooperated quite nicely, and we enjoyed a beautiful summer morning together.

This is a picture of David helping to load the kayaks. He is connecting the ropes to the wheel--I suppose that's one way to do it.


This is David digging (with his paddle) on the shore of the lake at Huffman Metro Park. After trying to kayak a few other places last summer, we finally discovered this place. It's perfect for us! A calm, shallow lake in a lovely setting, herons included. The best part is that no one is ever there, which I like. The last times we went kayaking, I was 8 1/2 months pregnant, and I was quite the spectacle getting in and out of the boat--it's nice to have a little privacy. This morning, with two squirrelly little ones, the absence of gawkers was again appreciated. (But let me say how much easier it is to get in and out of a kayak not being pregnant!)

David, again with his shovel, er, paddle. That David had his own little paddle was the key to success (no power struggles over Dad's paddle like last summer), though I won't pretend that it didn't slow Greg down in the water. (But that's okay--it's not like I was super fast myself with Mary's "help.") David also brought a toy fishing pole and a plastic boat attached to a string.

Check out Mary, all ready for her first ride in a kayak. (Isn't she cute?)

We don't have pictures on the water--our hands were a little full. But David and Mary were super cute, and we'll try to get pictures next time. Mary started out on my lap, but she soon migrated to the very front of the cockpit, where she stood at the bow. David, outfitted with paddle, fishing pole, and boat-on-a-string, sat in the hatch behind Greg. They both did remarkably well, and David (who had had a hard time remembering not to shovel dirt into Daddy's kayak) was good about following directions when it really mattered. (The proof? They never capsized!) We had a great time, and it turned out to be much easier than we had expected. We can't wait to go again!

Thanks for the help

For trips to the park, it is no longer good enough to provide transportation, snacks, and a drink. I also have to provide a good park (not any park will do these days), and, most importantly, friends. Otherwise my son considers me a failure. I have a hard enough time remembering to pack a snack (so my kid is always the starved one mooching off your kid), let alone having the foresight to arrange a meeting there with some friends. But today was different! In David's estimation, I finally came through with a successful trip to the park. I couldn't have done it alone. I owe a big thank you to the Thompsons, the Mainords, and Centerville-Washington Township.

Thank you to the Centerville-Washington Township Parks Department for providing a super activity at a super park. This park has always been a favorite, with its sprayground and fun playground, but today it was extra fabulous--with a firetruck that sprayed a massive amount of bubbles!

Also, thank you to Lisa for telling me about this event--it's been on my calendar for months--and for planning to meet us there. David loves to play with her children. Nothing gets David's little bum out the door faster than telling him we're on our way to meet Seth. Seth and David are the same age, and play like two peas in a pod. David also loves to follow Seth's older sisters around.

Thank you to Gina for arriving right when we did. I had told David we were meeting friends at the park, but I could tell he was skeptical. I was envisioning thirty minutes of listening to David whine, "I need my friends! I need my friends!" But we pulled in just as the Thompsons did, and David lit up like a light bulb. Joseph and Caleb are always a good time (grand schemes and big imaginations), and if there's one thing David loves, it's a good time. (The best part was that I got all the credit for magically producing these two very fun friends!)

I do deserve a little credit though. I remembered a towel, some blankets, a snack (so David's mooching was at a minimum), and a bottle of water. And the camera:

Mary and David lounging around (with their hands in their mouths):

Mary trying to steal some of David's snack:
David preventing Mary from stealing his snack (this is second nature for him now):

The climax--a soap bubble mosh pit for tots, thanks to the fire department. Here is David--no shirt, green swim trunks--playing with Seth in the bubbles--Seth is the tan, blond boy on the right with the blue swim trunks:
I love this picture! This is Alexis (Seth's oldest sister) leading David by the hand. A couple of weeks ago we were at a park, and Alexis took David's hand and led him over to look at a pond. Ever since then, he has told me repeatedly, "I need more Alexis hold my hand!" I often think David needs an older sister (he really likes to play with older girls), but, alas, he has a baby sister instead. Lucky for him, Alexis is a wonderful big sister to her siblings and doesn't mind nurturing David too:

This is David and Seth waiting for their turn to be rinsed off with a real fire hose:

All in all, I think David considered our trip to be a success. (Though, there were a lot of people there--and I think it was a little overwhelming for him. It was for me! He was usually lost in a sea of children, and I just had to hope he would turn up eventually.)

On the way home David begged to go to Wendy's. But--despite the fact I had remembered the snacks, the sunscreen, the blankets, the towel, the water, the change of clothes, the baby backpack, the camera, the sunglasses, the extra pacifier, the wipes, and the friends--I had forgotten my wallet. Oh well. I'm not perfect. Even with help.

While Mary and Daddy were away

With Mary and Greg gone this morning to the doctor's office, David and I went to the park.

I was not pregnant. I did not have a baby with me. It was not especially hot. My kid did not require an unusual amount of supervision. I decided to ignore the nannies and other moms, park my butt on a bench in the shade, and read the newspaper. It was a perfect trip to the park. To top it off, David himself decided he was ready to go, so there was no meltdown on the way to the car. Did I mention it was a perfect trip to the park? For me, anyway. David told me he needed his friends...maybe next time I will have that foresight. But, today, I am happy that I had an hour to myself (more or less) in the fresh summer air with my New York Times.

I also took a couple of pictures. How could I resist?

Mary's check-up

Mary had a check-up today. Actually, she had two! One with her dad and one with her brother.

The first was her nine-month well-baby appointment at the medical center on base. (Yes, I know she's now almost ten months old, but it's getting increasingly difficult to procure appointments at the peds clinic. Hmmm...Are they sending all the pediatricians to Iraq too? They've sent everyone else...) Her appointment was scheduled during a time in which Greg did not have class, so he could tend David. But after I heard Greg say for the sixth time, "I don't mind taking Mary to her appointment...if you want me to," I finally caught on that Greg really wanted to take his daughter to the doctor. How could I deny Mary the opportunity of having her daddy take her to a check-up? (Isn't it sweet that Greg wanted to take her? Wow-- I love that man!) Greg reported to me that Mary weighs 17.6 pounds and is 27 inches tall, which puts her in the 25th percentile for both weight and height. He was also very proud to report that, according to the doctor, she is "healthy and very strong."

Mary's second check-up of the day was performed by Dr. David. David, having been to the doctor himself on Monday for pink eye, was in medical mode. Dr. David instructed me to take off Mary's clothes because babies get check-ups naked. (How does he know this?) He also knew to give her arm a "hug" (check her blood pressure), look in her eyes and ears, take her temperature, and listen to her heart (which he does with the stethoscope around his waist). Lucky for the doctor, the patient was very patient.




And this check-up ended with a big hug!

One wild ride

I thought my seventh grade crush, that first semester in Carroll Hall, and birthing Mary were emotional roller coasters. . . but nothing comes close to the wild ride that is potty training.

The elation! The despair! All in one day! Twelve times! And it goes on for weeks and weeks and weeks.

If my life is Six Flags, then potty training is the Kingda Ka. And I've been riding it all summer long.

I think I'm getting a little queasy.

Turkiye seviyorum

August 1. We left Turkey and arrived back in the U.S. exactly one year ago today.

Maybe it's because I made dolma this week for dinner. Or because I am coming to believe that Midwestern weather is a scam: if it's going to be hot and humid in the summer, then shouldn't it be pleasant in the winter? Or because life seems a little, well, ordinary, of late. But it's probably because my kids are driving me crazy, we're quarantined at home with pink eye, and I'm longing for another time.

Whatever the reason, I find myself this afternoon missing our life in Turkey, to the point that it hurts. A few of the things I miss:

1. Lokum and pastries from Cigdem's on the Divan Yolu in Sultanahmet



2. Turkish people--and their love of children (Have you ever seen a gang of teenage boys stop in their tracks to play peek-a-boo with a baby?!)



3. David drinking ayran like there was no tomorrow



4. The Wednesday ladies' market in Adana--especially after I found out I was pregnant with a girl--so much more stuff to buy for baby girls than boys! (Too bad everything I bought for Mary so far has been the wrong season . . .) But the best part was the drive there and back with friends. And the food.



5. Yelis and her family!



6. Sinan, more commonly known around the neighborhood as Ekrem (David still tries to wash the car with a broom.)



7. Day trips to the Mediterranean, and the fact that it's very socially acceptable to dress very modestly at the beach



8. Living in a small community (where most everything is within walking distance)



9. The call to prayer



10. Carpet shopping at Nuri's, especially with dinner ordered out from Red Onion--tava, borek, coban, humus, and flat bread (yum!)



11. Two-hour church (Active Mormons attend church for 3 consecutive hours every Sunday. But, for logistical reasons, we were only able to have church for 2 hours on the base in Turkey. Call me a heretic, but I LOVED it!)



12. Walking often in the footsteps of the Apostle Paul



13. So many playgrounds, so close, with so many friends



14. Living just one time zone from Western Europe (Imagine trips to Europe without the jet lag.)



15. Crossing the Bosphorus on public ferries



16. Elif Star Caves and summer evenings in Cappadoccia



17. Friends, friends, friends! (From whom I learned so much, especially as I was figuring out this whole mom thing.)

A note to my friends in Turkey right now, counting down the days until they leave: I haven't forgotten that I was counting down too, and I haven't forgotten why. But today, trapped in my suburban house with two whiny kids climbing on me, I am indulging myself in the belief that it was a perfect, idyllic time. But based on the ache I feel inside right now, as I reflect on those two years, I am led to believe that it's not all indulgence--it was really was a special time in a remarkable place.