Rassette, party of four.

This weekend started off bright.

Friday Bub got to spend the evening with my dad while Tom and I enjoyed some one on one bonding time with Teebs. It seems so funny now to think of our lives when we were a 3 person family. An evening out with one child seems so effortless, when it was just a few months ago that one child was all we had and it seemed like our hands were more full than they were big and adding another child to that delicate balance was risky if not impossible. But look at us now, Rassette party of 4, and that delicate balance is not so delicate, but it is an art, and I think we are doing a pretty good job.

Saturday morning was slow.

We piddled around with breakfast. Toying with the idea that maybe there wasn't anything to do at all for the day.

Until finally I couldn't take the claminess of being inside any longer and grabbed some shoes for the feet that were going, which turned out to be all four of us, and we went on a walk. 

Would you look at those three? The dynamics of our family change depending on which ones of us are grouped together. Mommy and Teebs. Teebs and Bub. Teebs and Daddy. Daddy and Bub. Mommy and Bub. Then the combinations of threes. And these three are amazing to watch.

I can't sell myself short, I do some pretty fun stuff. But when it comes to that impulsive, this idea is happening right now, kind of fun---that kind of fun is Tom's.

I'm the planner. The finder of the perfect day to go to the museum, the coordinator of the visit to the park we've never been to, the maker of bubbles for sitting on the porch together. But when it comes down to mommy made us go on a walk, now what? That is where Tom steps in.

Even running is fun if Daddy tells you to do it. He's just cool like that.

The older Bub gets the more he comfortable he is to branch out on his own.

and throw caution to the wind that he's running through.

And the older Bub gets the more comfortable he is ignoring my barks of warnings. A sharp and cautious "Don't throw that stick in the water!" simply means one shouldn't throw the stick in the water, but...something amazing could still happen if that warning was ignored. Bub heeds my warnings as merely an opinion, an envelope to push, but sometimes, when it's between throwing a stick in the water or not, I'm just a little bit glad he ignores me.

The world needs more stick throwers, after all. More people who are simply curious. More people who are just blown away by cause and effect and once they have a "what happens if" question, the world just is not right until they know the answer. What we learned is that nothing at all happens if you throw a stick in a little manmade stream at a park. But boy did Bub feel better after trying. What a relief it was for him to get that question off his chest and move onward to the many, many questions he's still waiting to try.

The rest of the weekend we made cookies, breezed in and out of the house for eating and errands. And didn't do much more than really just enjoy each other. The four of us. It was a calming weekend, but a bright weekend. Sometimes the calm is just an illusion before the storm, and sometimes the calm is a soothing reminder that the horizon is ahead of us and there could be anything there waiting. We are going with the latter, and enjoying every bit of calmness that we get.

Running Errands

About every fifth day or so there is something in the air. Every fifth day there is this waft of almost crispness, just a hint, that boldly says "I'm getting ready." It doesn't last very long at all, and mostly it is just in the morning and by lunch I'm sticky with sweat. But it's there. I think fall is starting to get ready.

I struggle with fall because I know what comes next. That refreshing crispness turns bitter, into the hardest shivers that have ever thundered through your body. And the cold is dark and the dark lasts for a longer eternity each winter, I'm sure. But the worst part is the babies. Winter means babies get stuck inside, and when we do venture out even the simplest errands take layers of clothes and hats that get smashed to the ground under dirty snow caked feet. The wind bites their cheeks as shopping carts get wobbly in the slushy ruts of the parking lot, and nothing, nothing, nothing good comes from winter.

BUT. This year I am going to do winter differently. I know it's only the end of August and the start of September, but I'm ready for winter. This year I'm going to embrace winter. This year we are going to start winter traditions, we are going to love playing inside, this year winter can bury us in our house but winter can not bury our spirit. 

So with the distant but eminent change of seasons ahead of us, I make a mental note to enjoy every single second of everything we do while it's still warm. Everything is so much easier when it's warm. Even just running errands. I think there's just something special about running errands in general, we always do it together. A trip to Menards is much more difficult when Tom has a wife and two kids in tow---

 But we would never dream of sending him off on his own. There is too much to see.

We would miss out on so much, like the conversation Tom and I try to share on the drive there. We stumble over trains of thought and dump trucks of sentences while Teebs chomps on his fingers in the backseat and Bub boils over with babbles. But somehow we manage to talk and share with each other while interjecting answers to Bub's questions and bending backwards to pull an aggressive finger out of Teebs' mouth when he starts making weird noises.

And we would miss out on standing in this aisle for upwards of 30 minutes while Tom ponders the complexities of life and outdoor lighting.

And you can only imagine the things that can happen in the lighting aisle of a home improvement store for 30 minutes with these two characters---

What happens is somebody gets sad---

Somebody, or somebodies, wonder about the world and light bulbs and everything in between---

 And somebody thinks, ponders, weighs the pros and cons...

Before doing THIS---

BAM. There it is. A Teebs smile. Huge, slobbery, gaping. He has to give it some serious, serious, thought before he wallops the world with that enchanting grin. That smile that cracks his entire face in half. Some people really need to wait for the mood to strike before a grin engulfs their face. Some people need to think about it first, and Teebs is one of those people. And do we ever love our Teebs. When he is Teebs, he is Teebs. But when he is smiley Teebs....he IS smiley Teebs. Whatever the mood, Teebs is just amazing. Consider yourself walloped, world.

One of the greatest parts of running errands is afterwards when I tell Tom "take the scenic way home" or "let's get ice cream." So we lollygag around late evening traffic and end up wherever we end up, like the edge of town ice cream store with this view.

After a half hour meandering and waffling in one aisle of Menards, Tom chose some lights for our garage. He may have felt inspired by the warm evening, or threatened by the memory of the tiny slice of crispness from the morning, but he installed them also. We are proud every time he completes a project. And one other project was completed with our trip to the store. For days that too quickly turned into weeks, Bub has been scared at night. He says he worries, and I believe him. Bub is worrying. When I kiss and squeeze him and tuck him in, he lays in bed and envelopes himself in "what ifs." What if there is an angry owl outside my window. What if there is something wrong with my favorite toy. Bub can worry about anything. I do what I can to squash his fears and tell him to stop because he is a little boy and little boys don't worry, but it comes naturally for him. So I was thrilled when I suggested we buy a nightlight and he agreed. Ever since, this little blue guy has been doing his best to stop anything bad from scaring Bub.

I told Bub that the little bear's arm is up in the air as if to say "stop scary things, there are no scary things here!" But Bub sharply reminded me, "he is just a pretend bear, mommy." So far, though, that pretend bear gets amazing accolades for keeping my little Bub at least worry free enough at night to keep me out of his room a dozen times.

There's a lot to be said for that little bear and the things we are afraid of. Like winter? And it's impending doom? Or, I could take a little of my own advice, and just not worry about it. We still have plenty of warm days and evenings left to enjoy, and even during the thickest moments of cold there is still a lifetime of warmness to enjoy after this winter.

For now, there is a moratorium of worry in this house. There may be some cool crispness in the early morning air tomorrow. But, for certain, there will be an amazing weekend to enjoy, one that we are very much looking forward to.

What Really Matters

There are a few things in life that I know for certain. I never waffle or waiver on my stance, I never doubt. One of those things I believe in? Laughter. I believe very, very strongly in the power of laughter. I think chuckles are nice, and giggles are ok, but what really sets loose a flood of surging endorphins is that cross-your-legs-gasping-for-air-belly-laugh. Saturday my mom and I stood in front of a fun house mirror at our local children's museum and did just that. We laughed.

It was a highlight of the weekend. But one of the best parts of the weekend was seeing Teebs acting like his normal, healthy self. 

His ear infection is clearing up, and which each passing day there is a little bigger spark of orneriness behind those eyes that were so sad and tired. We love our Teebs happy and ornery, we're glad to have him back to normal. Friday night we celebrated the return of The Teebs with a trip to the baseball stadium. It was the boys' first baseball game, and after we left the mountain of tears behind us from the realization that we were watching baseball and not playing baseball, we got to see a calmer side of Bub as he tried to understand this new game.

The intrigue in his eyes when he experiences something new is so inspiring. He is absorbing this newness with no reservations, he is gaping open with questions and "whys" and learning. Bub embraces life like no one I know.

And who better to explain the complexities of baseball than Daddy. The warmness of the air, the greenness of the grass, the crispness of newly learned knowledge---these are the evenings that memories are made of.

Really though, his favorite part was just the clapping, and the other little boys his age that he got to befriend for an evening. And really, we only lasted through the first inning before it was time to pack up, give ourselves a good, hard, pat on the parent back and say "good effort." He may not ever remember this evening, he may find that he doesn't actually enjoy baseball, but oh do we love the sweetness of all of these "firsts."

Saturday morning I cracked open my eyes to find one big Bub face pressed against my mommy face. He wanted to go to the children's museum. He was determined to go to the children's museum. It's an amazing place, it really is, but after packing, and parking, and walking, and paying, and struggling with Teebs while we chase after Bub while he decides that the first floor...no third floor...no second floor...no third floor is where we have to be playing at this very instant and we wear out the elevator trying to make Bub happy---after all that I end up just a hint on the side of exhaustion and the children's museum becomes a place that I gently suggest we do "next time" as I drive to the park instead. But Saturday we rallied the grandparent troops and my mom came with us. With an extra set of hands the afternoon was much more enjoyable.

 

 Bub got to play with the special attention that he deserves---

 But also with that enticing indepedence that he craves---

So when the afternoon crabbiness finally crept our way, we had already had our discovery, our fun, and our belly laughter, and so it felt good to go home. Like we had really made the absolute most of our afternoon.

Even though it was really the perfect day, sometimes I just can't leave it at that. I still think there is one more thing that has to happen. There's always one more place I can go, one more thing I can do. So when Bub finally rolled out of his nap we took Teebs and hit the road. First we returned library books, then even though Bub protested we went to the park to see this:

The park we go to is part of a 668 acre nature center. So more than a park, it's really just space. 668 acres of the most soothing space you have ever seen. There are swings and slides, ponds with geese to feed, buffalo to watch graze, but a lot of it is just untouched space for sunsets to perch. One of the best spots to watch the sun sink is on top of a slope where someone had the brilliant idea of building a slide for sledding in the winter.

So we watched. And when it was getting too dark, late, and crabby for babies to be away from their beds, we walked back to the truck to go home.

Except I didn't have the keys.

I stared at the thick hill of plush grass that had swallowed our keys and realized what the evening had just turned into. A failure. We were going to have to call Tom, he was going to have to come rescue us, poke fun of my shortcomings, and complain about the missing set of keys. I kicked around on the ground, praying maybe they would just appear, while in between my harsh "shhh!" Bub babbled away with strangers about the missing keys. But he ignored me and pulled a bewildered couple around the hill in search of our keys. Until they found them. No where near the spot I was convinced that they were.

I mushed together my apologies and thank yous into one large lump of gratitude while the couple became enchanted with my children and we enjoyed a few moments of remarkable conversation. I'm so sorry to interrupt your evening, I said again and again. But the kind woman looked at me convincingly and said it was ok. We were just watching the sunset and talking about our own kids, she said, really they are the only thing that matter.

And she could not have been more right. Really, they are the only thing that matter.

So another weekend comes to a close, there's a thousand things I didn't get done that I will worry about tomorrow, but for now I will only focus on the things that did get done. Thankfully, what I did get done this weekend are the only things that matter.


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Little Victories We Are Celebrating This Week 2.0

This week seemed like an odd time to be celebrating. For starters, Teebs' slobbery red gums have been invaded by teething, and we are mourning the loss of this gummy grin.

He is sprouting the little white capped beginnings of his first tooth. Which is amazing. It means he is growing and flourishing just as he should. But by the second child these little milestones are a little tougher for me to swallow. As a first time mother with Bub, I didn't realize just how quickly one year could come and disappear again. Like seeing a lightning bolt and in the few seconds it takes to hear it's crash of thunder the storm has already gone. But now I know how quickly time races and I want to smash time like an accordion just to slow down my babies. Even if only a tiny bit. Soon that little gummy mesh of mouth will be full of gleaming enamel, and we are happy for Teebs, we are...but we also can't help but wonder where the last 8 months have gone.

Over the weekend we had to get a little creative.

Teebs was a grumpy teething bear and we decided to stay inside to build tents with couch walls and fluffy blanket ceilings. We played the same games we play on non-tent days, but for some reason they seemed brand new under the shadow of a living room tent.

When Teebs finally settled in for a mid afternoon snooze, Bub got to take out his John Deere pedal tractor and prove to me just how independent he is becoming.

It seemed like ages of waiting for him to reach the pedals on all of his riding toys, and now that he can I want to make him just a few inches shorter. But it's the little things, like the sticky band-aids over nearly invisible owies---

And his persistent wails for me to push him when his little Bub legs get tired---

---that remind me that there is still more growing ahead of him than behind him, and there is still so much about him that needs me.

And I like that. I also like our priceless one on one time that we get on the right days when Teebs sleeps at the right time and Bub is in the right mood. After the tractor ride we sat on the front porch, listened for Teebs to rustle from his slumber, and blew bubbles.

And there's really nothing more special than that.

Then on Monday our morning was dampened with a rain shower, and it could have ruined everything and we could have popped in a DVD and laid on the couch and rolled off around lunch time and rolled back on until Daddy came home, but Bub wanted to find puddles. So we found puddles.

And I learned that when I tell Bub to jump---he jumps. Little victory? Not quite. This was a BIG Bubby jump. .

Bub is sometimes so consumed with the anxiety of this little phobias and his new favorite word "worry" that to see him fearless, one foot shoeless, hovering in the air over dirty mud, makes me want to hug him and squeeze him until the proudness oozes out of me. That is my boy.

But after that victorious moment the last few days haven't gone so smoothly. Teebs is suffering from this family's very first ear infection. We made it through over three years of parenting with Bub avoiding the plague of ear infections, and after 8 months of Teebs we have the worst sickness our babies have ever seen. With an infection in both ears, fever, cough, and overflowing nose, Teebs is cracking our hearts with each whimper. This evening while Tom and Bub went into Menards, I stayed in the truck and watched this sad little man sleep.

We not only mourn the loss of his gummy nummy mouth, but also the loss of just one little slice of his innocence. The Teebs now knows the sensation of being miserably sick. He's a trooper, but it breaks our heart just the same.

The nice thing about his nap in the truck and waiting with him was the silence. I so rarely, rarely, get silence.

It's nice to have those few moments of quiet reflection, even if it's in the parking lot of a home improvement store.

Where I can take a minute to see things from a different perspective, a new light

And remind myself that the struggles of this week, are only temporary. I can remind myself that while sometimes it may look like I am seconds from being ran over---

Really, truly, everything is ok.

For the rest of the week, we force Teebs to swallow his medicine, watch for him to get better, and don't
forget to appreciate the little victories. There are many, many little victories. But also we are looking forward to a more normal, healthy weekend. There are a limited number of weekends left before the air turns so crisp it freezes, and we are going to celebrate every one of them.

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