tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92138355013354870112024-03-14T01:10:38.498-05:00Are We There Yet?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.comBlogger798125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-60176712895549243422016-02-10T14:22:00.000-06:002016-02-10T14:22:50.551-06:00A Few Words on Packing, and a Disney Surprise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I started packing us today for an upcoming trip, and this has reminded me how much I HATE PACKING. Ugh! Not everyone feels that way, some people enjoy the packing experience and feel it adds to the anticipation of their trip, (which as we are all supposed to know by now, is half the fun anyway). Um, no. Packing is not part of the fun for me, and you people who enjoy packing are weirdos from another planet that I will never understand.<br />
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My kids are part of "those people" who get excited about packing, but that is because they have the mental flexibility to pack only a stuffed giraffe, some colored pencils, and maybe a tutu and call it a day, with no concern for having forgotten anything. Case in point, when we went to Missouri last summer, I asked Waylon if he wanted some help packing his suitcase but he said no, he was already finished:<br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/19555535292/in/dateposted-public/" title=""Do you want some help packing for Missouri, Waylon?" "No, I already packed." #goodtry #whoneedsclothes"><img alt=""Do you want some help packing for Missouri, Waylon?" "No, I already packed." #goodtry #whoneedsclothes" height="500" src="https://farm1.staticflickr.com/265/19555535292_e934d33e7f.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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In my defense, just because I do not like packing does not mean I'm not good at it. I pride myself on packing light (or as lightly as one can, anyway, for a family of five headed to the beach with babies/young children, as the case has been for us over the last several years). Also, the key word in my packing complaint is "us"; packing for only myself is a cakewalk. It's the responsibility of remembering every single item that 3.5 other individuals might need that makes me run and hide. (3.5? I came up with that because yes, Joe helps. Neither of us has stooped to the level of having me pick out his clothing. And yet, it is mostly my brain that is tasked with remembering all the 1,000 odd items, from toiletries, to kid medicines, to rain gear, to water bottles, to allergen-free food, or headphones, or whatever else the occasion calls for.)<br />
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This afternoon, I relied on the kids' excitement about packing to spur me into action. No, really - Georgia had to stay home from school due to pink eye, so I told her it would be her job to force me to begin packing. Fast forward to 3:30 p.m., me curled up on the couch somewhat exhausted, the girls employing loud music, poking/sitting on me, and walkie-talkies cranked up in my face and set to static to get me moving. It finally worked. I'll stop complaining about packing for now, because it's hard to garner sympathy for a task that by definition means I'm getting to travel. We are fortunate and lucky in that regard, but c'mon, I don't have to enjoy the packing part. <br />
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All of the dragging of my feet and required cajoling yesterday got me to thinking how amazing it is (and please forgive me for patting ourselves on the back here) that Joe and I managed to pull off a pretty cool Disney World surprise for the kids back in September. A surprise the nature of which involved me single-handedly packing everything in total secrecy, essentially under cover of darkness, since I could only work on it after putting the kids to bed each. (Have I mentioned that we went to Disney World? No? Okay, see, that's the problem with taking enormous blogging breaks. Our Disney trip was a big deal for us, something that in my head I was definitely going to immediately report on here, I just haven't found the time for it until now.) <br />
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We decided to surprise the kids for a couple reasons. First, it would be super fun! I mean, how often in life do you get surprised out of nowhere with wonderfully happy news? And how often does life present opportunities to surprise someone you love like that? So we wanted to at least try to pull off the surprise and see what happened. Second, we selfishly wanted to avoid the incessant questions about, <i>"When are we going?" "How many more days?" "Is it tomorrow?" "Is it today?"</i> Keep in mind, at least two of three children here still have a pretty loose grasp on the passage of time.<br />
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As luck would have it, we needed to leave for the airport at the same time that we would normally have been hopping in the car to drop Joe at the train station and the kids at school. So that's how far we pushed the charade of this being a regular old school day. I had secretly loaded our suitcases into the back of the van the night before, packed Georgia a lunch box that she didn't actually need, gotten everyone dressed for school with backpacks ready and into their car seats, the whole bit. Our plan was to start driving to school but then take an intentional wrong turn to head toward the airport instead. When the kids noticed that we were driving the wrong direction, that's when we'd tell them: WE'RE NOT GOING TO SCHOOL, WE'RE GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!!!!<br />
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Sounds pretty rad, right? It was, with two caveats. First off, we were never expecting immediate screams of excitement, because our kids weren't at the time 100% aware of what Disney World really meant. (Waylon especially - he had no clue.) Even for someone well aware of what going to Disney World entails, it seems reasonable to expect it to take a while for the news to sink in. The other part of the kids' reaction, which we were not so much expecting, was just how long it took them to realize that we were not driving the right direction! Funny thing, it turns out children are very trusting of their parents to transport them from Point A to Point B with no questions or doubts. I guess I was counting on Georgia to be the first to notice, but even she was finally tipped off not by the fact that we were aimlessly driving into the next town over, but by the fact I was holding up my phone prepared to video tape. All of which is my roundabout way of explaining why the video you're about to see has been heavily edited for length (and it's still long - sorry, but I have no clue how to really edit videos and therefore can't waste half my day shortening this for you). I assumed I'd have a 15 second clip that morning to easily share with my sister and the handful of friends who knew about this surprise in advance, but instead we ended up with over four minutes of boring driving video. In the end, though, it all made for a very good story. The kids have certainly enjoyed in the months since telling anyone who will listen about how their parents told them they were going to school but took them to Disney World instead. That's worth it in my book. Even with the packing.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/154899187" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="https://vimeo.com/154899187">Disney Surprise</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user1134535">Kate</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>. (password is notrickypeopleallowed)<br />
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There you have it. And in conclusion, school secretary Mrs. Peterson was notified of the children's absence, and we managed to have a decent time at Disney despite me having forgotten to pack Roald Dahl's "The Witches".<br />
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Just for good measure, or for anyone unwilling to spend 4+ minutes of their life on the video, here are some stills taken shortly after the news had sunk in.<br />
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/24312740524/in/photostream/" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1708/24312740524_b750e8cfea.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<br />Crazy in love with this plan.
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<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/24850002821/in/photostream/" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1592/24850002821_74d5c4926d.jpg" width="500" /><br /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/24917048306/in/photostream/" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1559/24917048306_a2f8cfdd1a.jpg" width="500" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
<br />Pretty pumped!<br /><br />
<a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/24825375022/in/photostream/" title="Untitled"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1719/24825375022_91fe0c691e.jpg" width="375" /></a><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script>
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20-30 minutes later, a little freaked out and nervous. He came around. : )<br />
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-91239542291545249782016-02-02T09:20:00.003-06:002016-02-02T09:20:37.579-06:00Self-Centered Interviews of My KidsHi! I have vowed not to start this by blogging about blogging, or rather, blogging about not blogging, so now that that's out of the way, let's just dive right back in.<br />
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There was a set of questions circulating on Facebook recently among a few of my FB friends. I thought it would catch on more widely, but it seems not to have. The gist of it was that you interview your child, about <i>yourself</i>, and see what awful or adorable truths they come up with in response. I got a kick out of seeing my friends' children's answers and thought I'd give it a whirl, but I decided to record the answers here on the good ol' blog rather than FB.<br />
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The instructions were, "Without any prompting, ask your kids these questions." To save you some scrolling back and forth, I'm going to paste the questions in 3 separate times, since I conducted three private interviews. I've included a few of my own thoughts in brackets; couldn't help myself.
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<b>JUNE</b><br />
(6 years old)<br /> 1. What is something I always say to you? <i>You either say, "Home sweet home!" or "Alright, here we are," when we pull into the garage. No! You always say, "I love you." </i><br /> 2. What makes me happy? <i>When the house is clean.</i><br />
3. What makes me sad? <i>When I get a burn. </i>[Ed.: True. June recently burned her hand on a hot skillet.] <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> 4. How do I make you laugh? <i>By reading the part in the book that says, "My only friend in the whole wide world is a hippo named Boo Boo Butt!"</i> [Ed.: That's a reference to "The Book With No Pictures" for those of you not in the know.] <br /> 5. What was I like as a child? <i>I don't know!</i><br /> 6. How old am I? <i>I don't remember. Something like in the 80's or 70's. </i>[Ed.: To be clear, she was not speaking of the 1980's or 70's.]<i> </i> <br /> 7. How tall am I? <i>Half of my stomach and one of my brother and half of my brother.</i> <br /> 8. What is my favorite thing to do? <i>Go have fun. </i>[So then I asked the follow-up question, "How do I have fun, though?"] <i>By snuggling. </i><br /> 9. What do I do when you're not around? <i>Do stuff on your phone and computer. </i> <br /> 10. What am I really good at? <i>Yelling. </i>[Ed.: Ouch. The truth hurts.] <br /> 11. What am I not very good at? <i>Thinking of stuff to play. </i>[Ed.: It's good to make them think for themselves, right?] <br /> 12. What do I do for work? <i>Be our mom. </i> <br /> 13. What is my favorite food? <i>Vegetables. </i><i> </i> <br /> 14. What do you like to do with me? <i>Go to fun places with you. And also, make you spend money to take me on rides. </i>(*insert June's cackling maniacal laugh here*) [Ed.: I think she was specifically referring to a couple of Ferris wheel rides that were quite memorable to her.] </span><br />
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<b><span class="text_exposed_show">WAYLON</span></b><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">(4 years old)</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">1. What is something I always say to you? <i>I love you!</i> <br /> 2. What makes me happy? <i> Cleaning up. </i></span><br />
3. What makes me sad? <i>I don't know. That I shoot rockets on to pictures and the pictures fall down... At least I don't actually do that.</i> [Ed.: Waylon has been indiscriminately adding the phrase "at least" to at least 80% of his sentences for at least 6 months now.] <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> 4. How do I make you laugh? <i>When you say, "Don't smile!" </i><br /> 5. What was I like as a child? <i>I don't know. </i><br /> 6. How old am I? <i>Give me a clue. </i>(It's a number, honey. You have to pick a number.) <i>I don't know - 10? 11? </i> <br /> 7. How tall am I? <i>Very tall.</i> <br /> 8. What is my favorite thing to do? <i>Reading Penderwicks and painting with music. </i> <br /> 9. What do I do when you're not around? <i>You miss me!</i> <br /> 10. What am I really good at? (HUGE PAUSE...) (Shakes head...) <i>Throwing balls up in the air and catching them. </i> <br /> 11. What am I not very good at? <i>Lifting weights. </i>[I giggle and say, "How do you know? How do you know if I'm good or not?] <i>I just know because your age. </i> <br /> 12. What do I do for work? <br /> 13. What is my favorite food? <i>That's a hard answer. </i><br /> 14. What do you like to do with me? <i>Have mommy days! </i>[Ed.: "Mommy days" are what we call me pulling preschoolers out of school whenever I want to, to do whatever else we'd rather be doing, simply because we can. Once they hit public school, we take attendance more seriously, but until then, all bets are off.] <i> </i></span><br />
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<b><span class="text_exposed_show">GEORGIA</span></b><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">(8 years old)</span><br />1. What is something I always say to you? <i>I love you. </i><br />
2. What makes me happy? <i>Food. </i><br />
3. What makes me sad? <i>When we don't pick up our toys. </i> <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> 4. How do I make you laugh? <i>By tickling me. </i> <br /> 5. What was I like as a child? <i>I don't know. You lived right across the street from your school. </i> <br /> 6. How old am I? <i>39. Going on 40. </i> <br /> 7. How tall am I? <i>5 feet 14 inches. I think. </i> <br /> 8. What is my favorite thing to do? <i>Do art with me and June and Waylon. </i> <br /> 9. What do I do when you're not around? <i>Big mommy projects. Like organizing drawers. </i> <br /> 10. What am I really good at? <i>Trumpet, cooking, and soccer. Mostly cooking because you're a real good cook. </i> <br /> 11. What am I not very good at? <i>Starting big projects and finishing them. </i>[Ed.: To be clear, it's not the "starting" part that she's being critical of here...]<i> </i> <br /> 12. What do I do for work? <i>Take care of your family. </i><br /> 13. What is my favorite food? <i>That's hard. You eat a lot of foods when I'm not around. Sushi maybe? </i> <br /> 14. What do you like to do with me? <i>Projects. Like art or sewing. And cooking.</i></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Whew, domestic much, Kate? That last answer of Georgia's was influenced by recency I'm afraid. We had just finished sewing a button on a cloak that she insisted on creating for wearing to a friend's fairy-themed birthday party; however, this project was a rarity. Most sewing in this house still consists of minor repairs that are delegated to Joe. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><i></i> </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">So, there you go. I'm dipping my toes back into the waters of blogging with an entry that wrote itself. Baby steps, but I have to blow the rust off somehow. Thanks to those of you who faintly heard this tumbleweed blowing by and clicked over to read it. Leave me a comment if you have a moment; the dopamine sensors in my brain have been trained by years of Facebook and Instagram use to expect it. Grrrr.... (Now there's a meaty topic for a different day.) </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">I'm off now to go throw some balls in the air and catch them. Or maybe start organizing a drawer that I will never finish. </span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-64900038862891372072015-03-03T11:13:00.002-06:002016-02-10T14:03:17.160-06:002014 Puppet Show VideoSo, given that I failed to blog most of 2014 (and may still throw 2014 events up here in perpetuity if I feel like it, thank you very much), I thought I'd start by throwing up a 5 minute video that perhaps only a mother could love. This thing cracks me up. It kind of captures the kids in 2014 pretty well I think. This is them at their finest version of 6, 4, and 2: silly, happy, creative, and (mostly) cooperating with each other. Like most siblings they argue, they annoy each other, they make up, and sometimes, they play together blissfully well (and a choir of angels hovers over our living room). <br />
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I love these goofballs. (Password is notrickypeopleallowed)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/121150289" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-15869737835280964372015-01-27T08:55:00.000-06:002015-01-27T08:55:21.348-06:00Learning. And Science. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AZiYj8OcLc8/VMelN7V6q5I/AAAAAAAAB-g/8PiVnc8NqRU/s1600/scott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AZiYj8OcLc8/VMelN7V6q5I/AAAAAAAAB-g/8PiVnc8NqRU/s1600/scott.jpg" height="400" width="173" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">[<i>source: HitFix Entertainment News</i>]</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw this and it made me laugh, because I took June and Waylon to the Museum of Science and Industry last week and was just pondering with Joe whether all of our adventures teach the kids anything by osmosis so to speak. Other than enjoying ourselves and exploring, I rarely explain anything or read the displays or plaques to the kids. They did touch a big glass ball with electricity flowing through it, though. BOOM! SCIENCE. DONE. Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-87804768838289985642014-10-08T23:42:00.002-05:002014-10-09T14:08:11.823-05:00Back to School 2014So, back to school 2014. Georgia's first day was in late August, and June and Waylon started after Labor Day. It's probably a good thing that it has taken me a few weeks to get this post up, because it has also taken us that long to get in a groove with this whole school business. (Truth be told, the kids have adjusted well, but I'm still trying to get in a good groove. I do not like the current groove. I miss the days of summer and doing whatever we wanted to, and not having to drive everyone around, and I have gone into a temporary funk that I am trying to work myself out of, one way or another. Joe is being very patient but I can only assume he is quietly freaking out on the inside, since I've resurrected the tried and true, "Let's uproot our whole lives and move back to the city because <i>that</i> would solve all of my so-called problems!" reasoning, which tends to be my go-to solution. I guess I don't really mean it, but my mind goes there all the time.)<br />
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But to recap: Georgia started first grade. June started her Montessori kindergarten year. (We're planning on putting June in public school kindergarten next year, though, so I still think of this year as an extra year of preschool for her; we're not really sure what to call it. You'll notice in the photos below that we haven't made her a "Class of 20__" poster yet, because technically the jury's still out on whether she'll move on to kindergarten or first grade next year.) Waylon started 3 year-old park district preschool.<br />
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Georgia got a big case of nerves in the days leading up to her first day, but I think she got all her tears out of her system beforehand, because she has had none at the drop-offs. (I was nothing short of stunned by this on the first day. To be clear, I don't mind a lick when she's nervous; I love her unconditionally. It's just that I see how hard it can be on her, and I see how earnestly she tries. So, for each small victory and measure of progress, (of which there have been many in the last year), I am proud and happy for her.) As expected, her first few weeks were rocky, coming home wiped out with complaints of the long day and having to figure out the lunch routine. She's currently sitting at a peanut-free table in the cafeteria, which has presented a few extra challenges. Also, it didn't help matters that Georgia only made it to 2.5 days of school before being sent home sick! Then came Labor Day weekend. So, it took us until the third week to accomplish five full days in a row. Recently her class was issued iPads, (which I have mixed feelings about, but am slowly coming around toward), but I have to say that her excitement about wondering "Is today the day I'll get my iPad?" was just the carrot we needed to get over the hump and have her eager to return to school each day. <br />
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This is June's second year at Pathway Montessori, and now she's part of the "top of the heap" - the kindergarten aged children who get to look at things a little more in depth and serve as leaders to the littler kids. (Or so the Montessori people say.) I can't say I'm totally in love with the place, only because June doesn't seem to be totally in love with the place, which is a sharp contrast to her continued lauding of her 3 year old co-op preschool in the city, including placing her former teacher, Ms. Linda, on a veritable pedestal. It's hard to say what of this praise is deserved and what is revisionist history. I'm not sure how to describe June's attitude toward school. She frequently says she doesn't want to go, and voices several mild complaints about the place, but then hops out of the car with a smile and is smiling when I pick her up. I hope that's a good sign and that her reluctance just stems from preferring to hang out with Waylon and me and go on adventures? I do intend to pull her out as much as possible this year to do just that; it's all part of our plan to slow down and draw out early childhood and push off the attendance policies of public school. What's the rush, right? But it's also a plan that I have second-guessed so much that I'm embarrassed to admit it. Why can't I just make a decision and move on, be grateful that we even have these choices, and not obsess? Well, tuition is expensive, and though her birthday falls just 12 days before the cutoff, in many ways she was ready to start public school. I think she could've hacked it. But between wanting to keep our kids spaced grade-wise just as they are chronologically, and wanting to give her another year of half-days and as much freedom to play as possible, we've decided this path is right for our family. That's the key, I know - there is no "right" answer. I just wish I could shut off the pesky part of my brain that thinks about what everyone else is doing and then feels insecure about our choices. (Shut up, brain! Leave me alone!) <br />
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Waylon loves his preschool and confidently marches right in each day.* He and June are both kids that have to be reminded to say goodbye and give mom a kiss before parting. (Sidebar: please, please, thank your lucky stars if you have one of these children. I often hear parents jokingly say, "<i>I don't know what's harder, having a kid crying about leaving, or one that forgets to even say goodbye!</i>" I realize these are always good-natured remarks, but just in case there was any actual doubt in anyone's mind, let me answer that for you: it is much, much harder to deal with children who are upset. It is no picnic for parent or child.) Funnily enough, Waylon is a better reporter than either of the girls about what goes on at school. He comes out chatting and happy. There's not much to his preschool in a way, but that's okay with me, because he basically just turned 3. He may be a third child, but due to various circumstances, his is the <u>fifth</u> preschool we've tried! I could write my own preschool review book at this point! Right now, my only tiny beefs with the place are that it's not long enough (twice a week for 2 hours, which after subtracting travel time and June's drop-off gives me only 1.5 hours of freedom to actually get anything done, which lately has been consumed by billable work), and apple juice. <br />
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[Another sidebar: I think you all should watch the documentary movie <i><a href="http://fedupmovie.com/#/page/home" target="_blank">Fed Up</a></i> if you haven't already. Pretty sure you can get it via Netflix or iTunes. I had this whole rant about preschools serving apple juice written, and then deleted it because, well, you'll think I'm crazy, and besides, there are refugees, and wars, and poverty, and disease, so apple juice is not a big problem in the grand scheme of things. But then I watched <i>Fed Up</i> last night and felt like, no, my little pet peeve actually <i>does</i> matter. By the way, the movie is not about apple juice or preschool, per se. Anyway, you should totally watch it.]<br />
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On to the pictures! By the way, next year Joe and I are totally getting our hair done and wearing new outfits for this first day business, what with all the photos. ; ) Okay, I will at least get up and shower for BOTH first days next year. <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15166531498" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3863/15166531498_3b904b68b3.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285376297" title="DSC_0004 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0004" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5606/15285376297_5bef50ef70.jpg" width="332" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15166405240" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2949/15166405240_0ec6de5e21.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14846323847" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3876/14846323847_de02abe55d.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15032565052" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3894/15032565052_772a289f1c.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471935475" title="DSC_0005 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0005" height="332" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2948/15471935475_897ff6aed8.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285311398" title="DSC_0008 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0008" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3937/15285311398_9fe56c7dfa.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15468807141" title="DSC_0011 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0011" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3941/15468807141_3ac579db66.jpg" width="332" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471937425" title="DSC_0012 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0012" height="332" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5611/15471937425_7621fa4459.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471603302" title="DSC_0016 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0016" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5602/15471603302_6619ca919d.jpg" width="332" /></a><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285052329" title="DSC_0014 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0014" height="332" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5612/15285052329_8dfdcef947.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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{This picture is so dorky I can't *not* include it. Joe leaving for the train.} : )
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Goodbyes on the playground...<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285235970" title="DSC_0030 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0030" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3938/15285235970_061772debb.jpg" width="332" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15468809221" title="DSC_0023 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0023" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3945/15468809221_7764e4b605.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285054779" title="DSC_0032 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0032" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5599/15285054779_1751ef9bfc.jpg" width="332" /></a><br />
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[The following week...First Days, Round Two!]:<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471941625" title="DSC_0042 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0042" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3935/15471941625_fa1f9d1ed5.jpg" width="332" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15448859526" title="DSC_0035 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0035" height="332" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5607/15448859526_385f70bb7e.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15096008846" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3892/15096008846_61f96c81ac.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471940595" title="DSC_0036 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0036" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3954/15471940595_dfbcca61cb.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15352795682" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2945/15352795682_2711e87b12.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Showing off some "ballet moves"...<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15166538158" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2942/15166538158_6caf57b85a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15352797422" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3850/15352797422_a5e622b96e.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15353109575" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3889/15353109575_c8a67d3e1f.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285059289" title="DSC_0074 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0074" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3941/15285059289_4860581f68.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15468814991" title="DSC_0075 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0075" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3950/15468814991_ce38e343f9.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285318238" title="DSC_0061 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0061" height="332" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5597/15285318238_4b2ebb4c5b.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15471607792" title="DSC_0058 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0058" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3931/15471607792_029cc7a703.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285057609" title="DSC_0052 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0052" height="332" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3931/15285057609_426d47004b.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15468812861" title="DSC_0049 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0049" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2946/15468812861_86510373fe.jpg" width="332" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15285382817" title="DSC_0047 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0047" height="332" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5598/15285382817_367b6b8d1c.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15352794532" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2942/15352794532_144ed24993.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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And they're off!<br />
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(Okay, one more for good measure, because there is little on Earth cuter than three year olds sitting in cubbies waiting for dismissal.)<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15118994535" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3878/15118994535_6aa0a0f4af.jpg" width="284" /></a>
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*Update: Okay, so I wrote this about two weeks ago and then ran into technical difficulties getting the pictures uploaded. And now, Waylon's taken to crying at the drop-offs. : ( (His teachers report that he recovers fairly quickly.) Maybe the excitement of newness wore off? Hopefully it's a passing phase. Hang in there, Waylon. You are "Special Person of the Day" tomorrow at school and everyday at home. Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-55593658956771081532014-08-29T18:02:00.001-05:002014-08-29T21:25:31.029-05:00Trees Make Me Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I'm feeling a little sad, as I was after I dropped Georgia off at school this morning, getting out in nature can go a long way toward improving my mood. </span></span></div>
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I told June and Waylon that I needed to take a long walk, so we did. We discovered Lake Marmo, which we renamed Lake Marzo. It's ours now, but you're welcome to borrow it anytime, heron and all. (Or, "Bye bye, ostrich!" as Waylon put it. What is it with my kids and birds? June comically confuses seagulls and eagles all the time.)</div>
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After putting up with my walk, we headed over to a children's area and were pleasantly surprised to find that we had it all to ourselves today. I let the kids run off on their own and *mostly* avoided bothering them with photographs.</div>
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They started playing some version of Little House on the Prairie. Waylon sure makes a mean baby Carrie. I brought applesauce for a snack, but upon sitting down to eat it June informed me that, "Pa just killed a wolf. So we are having wolf saliva." Followed by, "What's saliva, Mama?"</div>
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All in all, it was just the dose of trees I needed. </div>
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[Programming note: I am trying out a mobile blogging app. I never can seem to get these things to work. So apologies if this looks all wonky.]</div>
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[NOTE: Okay, it probably looks normal to you. It looks like crap to me. Why do my pictures get cut off, turned into squares, and pixelated? <a href="http://www.annpricephoto.com/" target="_blank">Ann Price</a>, I am personally contacting you for technical support. Don't fail me now!] ; ) </div>
[Just so you can see what I'm talking about, here are some of the same photos pasted in my "normal" way.]<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14891804798" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5578/14891804798_ac16e111a9.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14891806688" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3894/14891806688_9b9fb54c6f.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15055390316" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3917/15055390316_1fe1ce2a35.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14891846077" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3894/14891846077_1d72341146.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/15078042212" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5574/15078042212_71121eca5e.jpg" width="375" /></a>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-83835876875427717972014-08-13T08:30:00.000-05:002014-08-13T15:12:35.233-05:00Dipping a toe back into the waters of employment<div style="text-align: justify;">
As if eeking out every summer adventure we have time for while ignoring the impending reality of 'back to school', all while heading into Cake Month (as we call it around here) wasn't already enough, I also started a new job last week. </div>
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Part time, from home, <strike>boring old</strike> lawyering. Well, I should be more specific, because "lawyering" probably conjures an image of someone in a courtroom, whereas what I do is review commercial leases in my pajamas. And I shouldn't say "boring old", because I'm really happy to have the work, it's just that during the past two and a half years of not having a paying job, I've spent my time daydreaming of several alternative career paths (who doesn't?). Most of them were unattainable without the use of a time machine, but all were totally rad. (And for the record, Joe, I'm still not ruling any out.) </div>
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It's really premature for me to be discussing any of this, seeing as how I have not even had a chance to call my own mother to tell her about this, have not yet seen a dime, and I've only been giving it a whirl for a week, but it also seemed remiss not to at least mention that I have entered said whirl. </div>
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Who knows if it will last a month or a year or if you will ever hear of it again on this blog, but for the moment, I am excited to be earning a little extra money for our family and to have my foot back in the door of employment, if for no other reason than to patch the ever-widening gap in my resume. I wasn't actively seeking a job right now, so it was very flattering to be approached, and hard to say no to at least giving it a try. </div>
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It's going to take a while to work out the kinks. Since I don't yet have a good idea of how many hours per week this will be, for the time being I'm getting it done "around the edges", i.e., without any childcare. That's great for our bottom line, but not so great for me if it means that all billable work is a second shift that occurs after the kids go to bed, and not so great for the kids (or me) if it means trying to juggle paying attention to children and working at the same time. With written or computer-based work, I have a prayer of getting things done while Waylon is napping and the girls are (ostensibly) entertaining themselves during quiet time. But phone calls? Fuhgeddaboudit. </div>
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I am trying to be patient with the kids, because this is a transition time for them, too. Even though I worked outside the home full time until just before Georgia's fourth birthday and June's second, Georgia has very few memories of our old routine, and June has none. Waylon has only known me as a stay at home mom. </div>
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So, last week when it came time to have a few phone calls, I set the kids up in front of the television (yes, I'm strategically using it as a makeshift babysitter - we're talking 15 minute increments here, not 8 hour blocks of time), and asked them if possible to pass me a note if they needed something, rather than interrupting my calls in their usual ways. As great as TV can be, Murphy's Law dictates that the next episode of Wild Kratts is sure to cut out just when I need it most. </div>
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This system worked pretty well for the call that was scheduled. Our note passing system did not work so well for an unplanned call that I felt I had to pick up amidst everyone running around and playing. (And yes, I realize that this system is particularly ridiculous given that 2 of 3 children here are illiterate.) It's a work in progress... </div>
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I felt a low-lying buzz of nervous, stressful energy on a day when I was expecting a call to discuss a document, and I found myself having to make strange new decisions, like leaving my cell phone inside while serving as a lifeguard outside. There's no point in bringing the phone if you can't very well answer it, I decided. When the low-lying buzz of nervous, stressful energy felt annoying, I had to remind myself that I was, after all, getting <i>paid</i> to experience it. It's a work in progress... </div>
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So, I guess I've gone back to work. Except I haven't really gone anywhere. In an employment landscape defined by tradeoffs, I've traded my old office with a door for a child-sized kitchen table, occasional business lunches at Frontera for leftovers plucked from unfinished plates, coffee runs with adult conversations for being interrupted to wipe someone's bottom, and a salary with benefits for an hourly independent contractor wage. But I've got windows! That's one thing I didn't have working in Biglaw. And flexibility. Hopefully, gobs of it. That, of course, is the real kicker. </div>
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Please wish our family luck as we enter this new chapter, because we're certain to need it. Joe has been so supportive, not only in the normal, "you can do it, honey!" sort of way that you'd expect from any spouse, but truly in the more time-consuming, "<i>blowing the rust off the old lawyer gears</i>" way that only a two-attorney family can appreciate. I feel like I'm just slowly working my way through all the hats of motherhood...working outside the home, staying home full time, working part-time from home, who knows what else may come. Weaving in and out of these phases is a sign of the times in some respects, but I also feel extremely fortunate, because not everyone has the luxury of opportunity to do so. </div>
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And now for a few snapshots, which are sure to make you laugh at me. </div>
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My temporary workspace, complete with crayons and dejected preschooler: </div>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14899487695" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5570/14899487695_74be94b1e8.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<br />
The notes I received:<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14899150372" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3860/14899150372_fc152e22bd.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<br />
Seriously? I've been back in the workforce for like 10 MINUTES!<br />
<br />
<img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3843/14899485085_df11dd750e.jpg" width="375" /><br />
Okay, to be fair, I later got to the bottom of this, which turned out to be a sibling thing that had nothing to do with me. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14876502556" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3906/14876502556_0df9d55224.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This lovely pictogram clearly says, "Mom, may I please have some soap, a bucket, the hose, and a rag so that I can wash a riding vehicle on the driveway RIGHT THIS MINUTE?" It was when I failed to correctly interpret and immediately respond to this that our note passing system broke down.<br />
<br />
It's all luck in the timing. </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-42876143510194612012014-08-12T11:27:00.002-05:002014-08-12T11:31:28.268-05:00Storm Preppers<div style="text-align: justify;">
Do your children have a particular imaginary play game that they like to repeat a lot? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For mine, it's "HURRICANE!" This involves running around, pretending to tape the windows, closing all the blinds and shades, speaking in a panicked voice that feigns that you are out of breath, going into a room and shutting all the lights off, and getting out a flashlight. Depending on the circumstances, a hurricane might mean that you should go to the lowest or the highest available room in the house. It might also mean that you should bring with you every stuffed animal known to humanity. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Thankfully, I have never been in an actual hurricane, nor have our children. The Midwestern United States is not known for taking direct hits from the ocean. I think the origin of this game goes all the way back to a downloaded Sesame Street episode about preparing for and cleaning up after a storm that took out Big Bird's nest, which Georgia probably first watched on vacation when she was two or three, and which the kids have all since watched several times over. </div>
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I guess they're taking the game to the next level, because the other day I came in to find June prepping dollhouse windows for an impending storm. Never can be too careful, can you? </div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14894496751" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3885/14894496751_35355c026f.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14710877630" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3916/14710877630_791ee3c58c.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-70248650718858574112014-08-10T22:05:00.001-05:002014-08-10T22:05:33.798-05:00And it looks like I'm the queen(The scene: post-dinner baths and kitchen clean up.) <br />
<br />
I don't know what made me giggle more, hearing Waylon sweetly singing from the bathtub down the hall, "<i>Be the good girl you always have to be</i>..." or walking through the kitchen two minutes later and catching Joe working on a sink full of dishes while singing, "<i>Conceal, don't feel...</i>"<br />
<br />
The kids' bedtime routine this evening ended with them wearing blankets as capes, my three little Elsas belting out a group version of "Let It Go." <br />
<br />
Can you tell we watched <i>Frozen</i> (again) at Georgia's request for a family movie night on her birthday yesterday? <br />
<br />
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-15576023625371435692014-08-05T17:50:00.001-05:002014-08-05T21:57:15.100-05:00A Sort Of Typical Summer DayI'm having a great summer, and you have no idea how good it feels to say that. I was one miserable puppy last year around this time. That's a topic for a different post, but suffice it to say that I've got my eye on the calendar counting down the days until school starts, in the opposite way than I did a year ago. This time around, I wish school would never start.<br />
<br />
The funny thing is, if you had asked me back in May before school let out, I would've had to admit that while summer is my favorite season, I was worried about filling the wide open space of seemingly endless days with my kids signed up for very few organized activities. How was I going to keep them entertained even <i>more</i> hours of the day without going crazy? However, I soon realized the simple reality was that in my case, given my kids' 2013-14 school schedules (or lack thereof, for Waylon), school wasn't providing me any reprieve in the childcare department, but it sure was adding a lot of hassle in the morning routine, bundling, buckling, driving, drop-off, pick-up, bathing, and bedtime departments. Turns out it was a net negative for me in terms of total stress. (I know, it's not all about me. I'm all for education and socialization, don't get me wrong.) The point is, right now, for our family, our summer "schedule" is way better than the alternative. <br />
<br />
I titled this post as I did, because the beauty of summer is that there is no such thing as a truly "typical" day here. In any given week, my ideal schedule is an alternating mix of unplanned days at home and big city adventures. Throw in a few house guests, occasional pool visitors, and a party or two or three (over the course of the summer), and we're all set. <br />
<br />
A few things I'd like to record for posterity: (1) the children would be happy to go nowhere, ever, and do nothing, ever, besides whatever they feel like entertaining themselves with at home; (2) I lose my ever-loving mind after a maximum of two days of that; (3) the children pretty much stink at doing errands, so much so that it's usually just not worth it to bother. Grocery shopping and Target runs have been moved to nights and weekends indefinitely, and for certain items, Amazon Prime shipping has become a good friend of mine. This system is a minor inconvenience but usually causes me less pain than taking all 3 kids on errands, which results in a combination of complaining, whining, and mild misbehavior in stores. (To clarify, they're not <i>monsters</i> or throwing tantrums. They'd just really rather not go, and it often feels like herding cats with a whole lot of irritated motherly instructions once we're out there.) I guess they've "won" this battle for now (nothing ever stays the same for long), but on the upside, I think it saves us a little money. Since errands with the kids are only done when critically necessary, I'm never out there using shopping as a way to pass time; (4) despite the kids' preference for never going anywhere, they are always up for an adventure once it's been announced. So, don't think I'm dragging them unwillingly when you see pictures of their smiling faces at the beach, Millenium Park, or whatever other cultural attraction I've decided to expose them to. They'll thank me one day, right? Ha! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14652210927" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8626 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_8626" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3846/14652210927_98f64ca5ff.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our daily dry erase board. This is my definition of structure right now. It's flexible and always subject to revision.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
For the hell of it, I decided one day a while back to write down the events of our day as it unfolded. This was a day when we had nowhere to be and nothing to do: the kids' favorite kind. I thought some of you might get a kick out of seeing both how creative kids can be, as well as how busy an un-busy day can be. (Keep in mind that I wasn't writing down any of the other stuff I was trying to accomplish in the background, like cooking, dishes, or laundry. Sometimes it's hard to get much else done, and there's a reason the place looks like a wreck at the end of the day.) Anyway, I didn't tell the kids I was doing this or attempt to influence their choices, I just wrote some stuff down. <br />
<br />
<u>This list begins as soon as breakfast ended and the kids were dressed</u>: <br />
-play on swingset<br />
-play with dolls, get out 8 different cups of water for the dolls<br />
-play a match of "World Cup" soccer in front yard <br />
-set up teepee in front yard<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14652270227" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5568/14652270227_7c6952a5db.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My view of the teepee action from our family room window sill.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14838761855" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8621 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_8621" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5560/14838761855_307d2cb4b6.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids' view of more awesome construction site action next door.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14835741401" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3901/14835741401_0a9c0dfb98.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<br />
<br />
-have meltdown about losing to mom in "unfair" soccer match. Ensuing discussion about fairness, practice, letting people win, not being a sore loser, not being a gloating winner, blah, blah, blah occurs. No idea if anyone learned anything. <br />
-play with carseat in front yard<br />
-discover slug. Let slug crawl on arms and take pictures with slug<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14652123840" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3869/14652123840_15a6500f8d.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14858687853" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3919/14858687853_b96471234b.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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<br />
-pull weeds from potted fairy garden<br />
-get out buckets and shovels to dig for worms<br />
-clean disgusting bathroom trashcan with dish soap, hose, and scrubber<br />
-use hose to make mud to enhance digging for worms project<br />
-Georgia gives up on worms, changes clothes<br />
-take small table to backyard to draw (Georgia) while June and Waylon continue digging<br />
-help mom dig up broccoli and plant eggplant in garden<br />
-EPIC meltdown regarding failure of "Rube Goldberg"-esque design implementation in dirt due to interference of little brother. [Note: I did not handle this well, either. It was almost lunchtime, and I know that had a lot to do with it.]<br />
-lunch is served. During lunch conduct meeting of sorts to discuss how to better handle our frustrations next time. No idea if anyone learned anything. <br />
-clean buckets and shovels with hose<br />
-Georgia swims while June buries Waylon in a giant container of stuffed animals<br />
-June and Waylon decide to come swim<br />
-put Waylon down for a nap<br />
-Georgia practices violin while June entertains herself making a love letter. I clean the garage.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14838763765" title="IMG_8625 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_8625" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3926/14838763765_758afef884.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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-our planned activity of writing together in some way, shape or form during "quiet time" is scrapped because I don't like interrupting one type of fun for another unless I have to. Girls are drawing in the backyard at a table and then in the top of the swingset.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14838767125" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="IMG_8630 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_8630" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5567/14838767125_4bf324a69f.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet! I didn't even have to get involved in the writing. I found this evidence of Georgia having tried to help June use the correct letters to go with the My Little Pony cutie marks she drew. : )</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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-I am asked to set up a tent in the backyard "because we are Mary and Laura and the tent will look like a covered wagon"<br />
-Georgia collects various snacks (with my permission) to take out to the tent<br />
-Waylon wakes up and joins in<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14838762685" title="IMG_8624 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_8624" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3857/14838762685_32fb4589d9.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<br />
-"Mary and Laura" ask to swim in the "lake" (aka, pool). I make them pick up their room first.<br />
-June reads a book on the kitchen floor buck naked while Georgia finishes cleaning and Waylon plays with a ball outside<br />
-nakey swim time <br />
At this point, I seem to have lost my last little scrap of paper, so I guess Joe showed up and we put those steaks on the grill. I wonder if anyone ever cleaned up the family room and playroom? ; )<br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-15702133553796630362014-07-31T23:22:00.002-05:002014-07-31T23:22:58.715-05:00We had a 4th of July partyWe had a 4th of July party. I'm sure this is not shocking news, as we'll probably continue doing this as long as we live in this house with a pool. <br />
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So, I wasn't really planning on taking lots of pictures or blogging any, but then, you know, I got snap happy. I turned them into a slideshow and set the whole thing to music because it was actually far easier than pasting a bunch of photos here.<br />
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The party was super fun. But let me tell you, setting it to "Magic in the Air" also makes it look about 10x funner. (If you don't believe me, try taking pictures of your boring day at work, yourself taking out the trash, or maybe doing laundry, and then set it to "Magic in the Air", and voila! Super fun day.) The song, an unofficial anthem of the World Cup 2014, is a summer favorite in our family and is particularly fitting since we rigged up an outdoor TV during the party to put on the Brazil-Colombia match. Gotta keep our Brazilian-American/American-Brazilian friends happy! <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="375" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/102296216" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/102296216">4th of July Party 2014</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user1134535">Kate</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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From my perspective, the biggest improvement on our party vs. last
year's was that, well, we hadn't just moved in 3 weeks earlier with a
one year old, a three year old, and a five year old, and a truckload
full of boxes that as of the 4th of July seemed to have exploded all
over the house. Yea progress! <br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-47224445024830106272014-07-30T23:17:00.002-05:002014-07-30T23:18:15.594-05:00Summer friends gathered<div style="text-align: justify;">
I swear I'm not trying to just piggyback my blog on to Maggie's blog, but she wrote up a <a href="http://rothbabyblog.blogspot.com/2014/07/summer-friends-gathered.html" target="_blank">beautiful description</a> of our weekend from a while back, a tear-jerker that I'm sure I can't improve upon, but what I do have to add is: all the pictures! (Well, there aren't any of pool time, and I seem to have made that age-old mistake of not taking any pictures of us adult girlfriends, but still, here are a lot of pictures from our weekend.) </div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thanks for coming to visit, Kelly! I'm so fortunate to be in close touch with a handful of my girlfriends from high school despite the fact that we're scattered across the country. It's an added blessing to watch our children become honest to goodness friends, not just kids forced to hang out together. Realistically I know that may or may not last as they get older and develop different interests and follow different paths, but for now, it's something to savor...like Miko's Italian Ice on a warm summer day. Mmmmm....get the coconut, it's my favorite!</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14677856381" title="Tales from the bottom bunk. The beginnings of a failed attempt to sleep together. by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Tales from the bottom bunk. The beginnings of a failed attempt to sleep together." height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5572/14677856381_5fed379309_z.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14494382609" title="June is so in love with Evelyn. by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="June is so in love with Evelyn." height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2910/14494382609_a51f67899c_z.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14705788433" title="Some might say this is not a good photo but I'm pretty proud of our seven person minivan selfie! (Don't worry - we were still parked in the driveway when I took it.) by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Some might say this is not a good photo but I'm pretty proud of our seven person minivan selfie! (Don't worry - we were still parked in the driveway when I took it.)" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3919/14705788433_7e8c0c0068.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14777133115" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3892/14777133115_c72e0b648d.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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We had a "sure, you can wear your princess gowns/crowns/wings" to Millenium Park kind of day.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14777219455" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5587/14777219455_14a3646fa2.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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One of the freaky things that I love about going to Millenium Park is that despite the fact that there are always thousands of people there, somehow I always end up with a few photos making it look like we had the place to ourselves.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590530800" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3858/14590530800_dc716b6a0b.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590563669" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2904/14590563669_b08fa7033e.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590479819" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3848/14590479819_98fea7e030.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590497508" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3883/14590497508_b1ae2e8caf.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590583779" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2912/14590583779_4552ac8d3d.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14776914732" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3872/14776914732_6b6c4df0d0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14774110131" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5571/14774110131_c894237cde.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590643118" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3912/14590643118_de4eb8debd.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14776936182" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5569/14776936182_551263e41e.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14797163193" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5562/14797163193_5df9614f49.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14774138211" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5584/14774138211_b3bd2408cb.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590711688" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2934/14590711688_7a623b336b.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14754359096" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="405" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3923/14754359096_c63fa32c08.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14775019434" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3856/14775019434_65b3c06e3d.jpg" width="320" /></a>
<br />
This may have been the moment that he decided that he was really, really mad at me for neglecting to bring his rash guard (long-sleeved sun shirt). Cue total meltdown that cut our fun short.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14775037714" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3868/14775037714_ab89aaf16d.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14797254893" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3847/14797254893_cd2b7eebc9.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Really, it was epic. He was offered his own shirt. He was offered Miles's sun shirt. He was consoled. He was inconsolable.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590682680" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5569/14590682680_fb1f29112d.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Later, back at the ranch...<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14777163725" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3835/14777163725_cda4391b39.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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The next day at the Logan Square el stop...
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Another day, another piece of colorful headwear.
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(I swear, no one put them up to this little dancing-in-a-circle game.)
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14791141895" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3873/14791141895_430fc1e6a9.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Okay, these next two are a little sad, but Georgia was hit hard by the dose of Benadryl we gave her as a result of a mystery hive on her cheek. Who knows, it might've been a bug bite. But such is life with a food allergic child. <br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14811013983" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3852/14811013983_e5fa2c6a63.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14604472670" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3851/14604472670_c653292b29.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14791155295" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5570/14791155295_c31ce81d23.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14604545848" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5578/14604545848_8761d0814d.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14788062081" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5555/14788062081_d474d18ce0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Later, back in the 'burbs...
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14604541709" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5553/14604541709_d88a26f629.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590549098" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5582/14590549098_83aaa205bd.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14590475580" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3872/14590475580_3285950009.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14774051451" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3836/14774051451_9c500e18d2.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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The last known photograph of this happy crew taken before their fateful crash. No one on board was spared tears.<br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-46181644395673749592014-07-29T21:58:00.000-05:002014-07-29T22:02:29.894-05:00Cabbage As Big As Your Head/Truth in BloggyvilleGrrr. Since I don't want to fail myself on this daily blogging habit on night two, I am posting one picture of June with a cabbage.
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I tried to post this whole other thing but ran into technical difficulties with iPhoto. The kind where I think I'm going to have to take my computer in to the store for service.
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<br />
Plus it's 9:52 p.m. and I promised Joe I'd come upstairs to watch a TV show together by 10:00, so yeah, finishing that other post is not realistic.
(But I think this is the point of this exercise: just post something, anything, be it a sentence or a photo, until you get back in the groove.)<br />
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So, I give you today's harvest. (Anyone remember my briefly-lived but ongoing "As Big As Your Head" series? Well, I'm happy to have a new entry.)
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Does anyone have experience making kraut or know of good techniques or recipes, because I think we're going to try fermentation in my closet, no joke. I have a book on this but am curious if anyone else has tried it and lived to tell the tale. Anyway, we can only eat so much slaw and cooked cabbage with onions.
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The vegetable garden is going well this year. We have done virtually nothing to make it so.
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Oh! It's 9:56. Ta ta for now!
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14594501628" title="Today's harvest: cabbage as big as your head! by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Today's harvest: cabbage as big as your head!" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3878/14594501628_b0745e77cb_z.jpg" width="500" /></a>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-78229486484631212952014-07-28T22:13:00.001-05:002014-07-28T22:13:14.639-05:00Blogging Streak? Blogging Tear? My friend <a href="http://rothbabyblog.blogspot.com/2014/07/can-we-write-our-way-out-of-funk.html">Maggie</a> threw down the gauntlet and has posed a daily blogging challenge to get herself (and the rest of us) out of a writing rut, so I guess I'm in. Funnily enough, I do not know when this daily habit is to begin or if there is to be an end date, but Joe is working late tonight so I am starting NOW. I would be super proud if I could keep it up for a month, but we'll see. It is almost cake month around here, after all. That usually makes for one good-busy but tired mama.<br />
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My other friend Susan pointed out that blogs in general seem to be in decline, like fewer people are keeping up with writing them or reading them. I think she's correct, but my hope is that this will just mean quality over quantity. I don't know. I'm kind of bad about keeping up with mine, but the desire is still there, it's just hard to find the free time.<br />
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Anyway, join in on this little blogging tear if you'd like. Or cheer me on by leaving comments. I'm not too proud to admit that they give me a little boost, like spectators cheering and holding up posters along a race route. <br />
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I hope chronology doesn't count in this little challenge, because my posts are likely to be all over the board, bouncing between current day happenings and old posts that I never finished (or started) but always wanted to. So bear with me, and don't be afraid to wish my kids a happy 2nd, 4th, and 6th birthday in the comments even though they're all about to turn 3, 5 and 7.<br />
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How many times have I announced this supposed blogging streak and then NOT done it? I am becoming the girl who cried wolf. I hope this time is different. <br />
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-21681908910437112602014-07-15T15:48:00.001-05:002014-07-15T15:51:02.685-05:00We rode bikes! Maybe you want to, too?<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, I'm writing this post because the experience of renting bikes at the Morton Arboretum felt like a big family milestone for us, but also because I'm thinking some of you local Chicagoans might want to try it, too? (Hear me out, because there are all sorts of different types of bikes available for varying degrees of ability.) </div>
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Georgia's pretty adept on her bicycle, but she'd never ridden it off of our street before. (Though I often lament the lack of neighborhood feel here, when it comes to letting our kids play outside, we feel fortunate to live on a dead end block with almost no traffic. I think it has allowed Georgia more freedom to practice biking on her own than the average American six year old gets.) Even so, when we rented bikes in Florida on vacation this spring, Georgia still opted for the tag-along option attached to my bike (that turns it into something looking like a tandem), and June and Waylon were put into a trailer attached to Joe's. It was "fun". No, really, it mostly was great fun, except that at their ages, putting June and Waylon in one trailer together is like transporting two cats in a box. There may have been some hissing and batting of limbs involved. </div>
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So, this Sunday's ride at the Arboretum was Georgia's first chance to really bike on her own for more than half a block, and I was so excited for her to experience the feeling of not immediately stopping and turning around. She was pumped, too, but I never thought we'd make it as far as we did. We completed the entire 4.5 mile east loop! (This time, with June and Waylon each getting their own trailer, since June's still a little leery of the tag-along option.)
It's a bit hilly, and my own legs were burning at points, so I'm kind of amazed that Georgia managed to power her 1970's era Schwinn through it all without massive whining. There were points when we had to get off and walk our bikes up the hill for her sake, but that's okay. This was not the Tour de France, after all. Although, I'm sure our snacks were much better than those Tour athletes get, anyway. With the trailer, I ought to have had a food truck license I'm sure, but by now I've learned that if you want to get through something even remotely physically taxing with these kids, (or for that matter, just "long" - not even taxing), you'd better take frequent breaks and keep them fed.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14663604462" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3897/14663604462_5546b1be43.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14661698574" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3852/14661698574_05abb95fd2.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(The view from our bench.)
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14477309790" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2897/14477309790_958e1f7b54.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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So, here's what we learned so you can take advantage of it: </div>
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--All of the pricing is stated clearly on the Arboretum's <a href="http://www.mortonarb.org/events/bike-rentals" target="_blank">website</a>, but I didn't pay enough attention to the details. This outing was more expensive than I counted on, so we'll be doing it again but not exactly weekly. (To be fair, the pricing is reasonable in my opinion, it just adds up when you need multiple bicycles plus trailers.) </div>
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--Prices are lower for members than non-members. If you know me (or my sis) well enough to text, though, then you're welcome to swing by and borrow my family membership card. And if you've got your own bicycles to bring along for free, well then bully for you! </div>
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--Speaking of membership benefits: the Morton Arboretum and the Chicago Botanic Garden have reciprocity, but a lot of people don't know that. </div>
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--Rentals are for 3 hours. There's no ability to save money by using the bikes for less time. However, you can take a break and leave your bikes with the bike rental people while you go off to eat a picnic lunch or explore the children's garden or whatever floats your boat. Now that I know this, next time we will get our money's worth by going earlier, biking, breaking, and maybe biking a bit more if our crew can handle it. Or maybe we'll stop and hike one of the trails along the way next time, now that we know for sure that Georgia has the stamina for it. June and Waylon really wanted to, but we were nervous about pushing our luck and then ending up with a non-cycling cyclist and a heavy unused bike on our hands. </div>
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--Bikes are restricted to the paved roadway; this is not off-road mountain biking. Keep in mind that cars are also allowed on the roadway, so you'll have to keep an eye out for vehicles needing to pass. Perhaps taking children biking on a road with cars sounds scary, but remember, this is not a public thoroughfare; everyone there has paid to enter the Arboretum and is ostensibly trying to take in the scenery. It's all one-way, and I've never seen a vehicle traveling more than 5-10 mph. The drivers should be looking out for cyclists and runners, so you should be fine.<br />
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--If you go this time of year, bring your bug spray. Sure, the mosquitoes can't get you when you're zooming along, but when you stop for breaks, you'll be easy prey. It is a forest, after all. <br />
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--(<i>This is Illinois, so take all descriptions of "hills" with a grain of salt, but</i>): One of the longest gradual inclines if you take the east loop is near the beginning of the route. Therefore, our first break occurred about 5 minutes into the ride, and I didn't think we'd make it much farther. Forge ahead if you can! Soon we began to hit some fun downhill stretches and caught our stride. </div>
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--Oh, speaking of downhills. This happy trip came inches away from ending in the ER. Georgia is still mastering control of her bike and nearly flew into the woods on the sharpest downhill turn. The water bottle in her basket bounced out, her front wheel left the pavement, and by some miracle, she stayed upright and steered back onto the road. I could only hear the commotion (and cringe), but Joe, who was pulling up the rear and saw it, swears that if Georgia did this 100 times she'd land in a bleeding heap the next 99. I have no idea how this information helps you. I guess just be careful? </div>
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I guess that's it, but before I go, do you have any blogs that you like but almost can't read because they're too beautiful? No? Well, <a href="http://www.digthischick.net/#sthash.p8dscqqw.dpbs" target="_blank">Dig This Chick</a> by Nici Holt Cline does that to me. I check it only occasionally lest I let her gorgeous Montana views, exquisite photography, cherubic children, home-based small business, and farm-like life mixed with the camaraderie of a more urban setting get me down, if you know what I mean. (To wit, she is to blame for my desire to have backyard chickens. One day. One day, I tell you.) Anyway, to top it off, I like her writing. In five sentences about a recent strawberry-picking outing with her two young girls, she perfectly captured how I feel about our little bicycling outing, and most other things in my life lately, for that matter. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"I remembered last year in this field. I held Ruby much of the time. Margot tired of the experience after about an hour. This year we walked the field for more than two hours and never once was I asked to leave. I took note, appreciating this increasingly autonomous season of parenting. And just a little bit missing the last." </i> </blockquote>
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I am: Living in the moment. Enjoying it. And feeling wistful, too. <br />
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<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
I
remembered last year in this field. I held Ruby much of the time.
Margot tired of the experience after about an hour. This year we walked
the field for more than two hours and never once was I asked to leave. I
took note, appreciating this increasingly autonomous season of
parenting. And just a little bit missing the last. - See more at:
http://www.digthischick.net/#sthash.6WKE0kQq.dpuf</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
I
remembered last year in this field. I held Ruby much of the time.
Margot tired of the experience after about an hour. This year we walked
the field for more than two hours and never once was I asked to leave. I
took note, appreciating this increasingly autonomous season of
parenting. And just a little bit missing the last. - See more at:
http://www.digthischick.net/#sthash.6WKE0kQq.dpu</div>
</blockquote>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14683863003" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5502/14683863003_ece03ff1e7.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="Untitled"></a>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-13253235800376882882014-07-10T17:02:00.000-05:002014-07-10T17:07:28.573-05:00What's for breakfast?Waylon often wakes up from his afternoon nap confused and asks me, "What's for breakfast?" thinking that it is morning. Today he would not be convinced otherwise, so I gave up and made him oatmeal with blueberries for his afternoon snack. (Which he calls "sear-meal", an invented word that pronunciation-wise is a combination of cereal and oatmeal but just means oatmeal.)<br />
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He's also on a kick of telling me that he's not going to nap or getting all upset about the idea, and then proceeding to sleep for 2-3 hours in the middle of the day. I am seriously jealous of his life sometimes. <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14608901195" title="Swim ==> wet hair ==> nap ==> awesome bedhead, aka, something resembling tousled, highlighted beach waves that people like me pay hundreds for! by baumgak, on Flickr"><img src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2938/14608901195_f7812f83f1.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="Swim ==> wet hair ==> nap ==> awesome bedhead, aka, something resembling tousled, highlighted beach waves that people like me pay hundreds for!"></a>
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(Post swim and nap bedhead. Who says polar bear fleece jammies aren't for July?) Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-14962833927909454362014-06-25T14:43:00.000-05:002014-06-25T14:43:14.122-05:00We Are Pro Princess Interracial Gay Marriage Around Here<div style="text-align: center;">
Maya Angelou dies ==> Racism ==> Gay Marriage ==> Marriage ≠Happiness ==> <br />Let's have Princess Tiana marry Princess Anna </div>
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Oh, parenthood, you crack me up. Listen to this chain of events. I bought <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Life-Doesnt-Frighten-Maya-Angelou/dp/1556702884/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403724770&sr=8-1&keywords=life+doesn%27t+frighten+me" target="_blank">this book</a> because, well, Maya Angelou died and I am a sucker so suddenly I think my kids should know about her? I don't know. Anyway, we read it together. Next thing you know I'm explaining how she read a poem at President Obama's inauguration. (That happened, right? I'm not losing my mind?) Talking about how it was extra special since Barack Obama is our first black president and Maya Angelou is also African-American. Georgia was shocked to learn that Obama is our country's first black president. (Incidentally, I love that form of innocence. What a shame it is also kind of my job to ruin it.) Being a fan of truthiness, I go on to explain racism at an age-appropriate level to Georgia and June. It's a topic we've discussed before, but you know, it takes a few tries. As it should. I mean, at base it makes absolutely no sense why people are treated differently based on skin color, so how the hell do you answer a four year old questioning "But <i>why</i> wouldn't they serve them lunch?" That's right, we were to the point of trotting out examples like lunch counters and bus boycotts, and "What does 'boycott' mean, mama?" Next thing you know, we're talking about Martin Luther King and changing rules that don't make sense. With follow-up questions like, "What is 'change'?" Oh, Lord, here we go, further down the rabbit hole. I don't know how, but suddenly we're on to talking about how they changed the rules in Illinois so that boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls, because our girls are aware of this recent change in the law and find it confounding that it was ever any other way. They are 100% on board with "love is love". So, now we've taken a left turn into a full-on marriage discussion, including my repeated admonition that marriage is not the secret to happiness, despite what the movies and story books say. It may be a fool's errand, but I am bound and determined to hammer this into their little heads, to counteract an entire culture of messages to the contrary. (Including their parents' happy marriage, I guess, but I don't consider that to be logically inconsistent with the point I'm trying to make.) I give them examples of wonderful single friends of mine and talk about how happiness and meaning can be found through work, and family, and faith, and community, and not just partnership and romance. But this all leads to further discussion of the fact that in their story books, it's always a princess marrying a prince, but I bet it won't be by the time they are reading to their children one day, you know, should they have any. The girls immediately announced an arranged marriage of Princess Tiana and Princess Anna. In lieu of gifts, please just send checks straight to me, c/o P.C. Capital of the World. <br />
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-61977336115490385412014-06-25T11:37:00.000-05:002014-06-25T14:46:12.983-05:00High School ReunionI remarked to Joe that one of the best parts of my high school reunion was that this was a group of people who did not know me as a mother. That is a hard scene for me to find anymore. We went out to the bars with people who could not care less about my kids, and I felt a sense of freedom and independence that I haven't in a while. It's not that my former classmates don't know my children, or at least know of their existence, because I've proudly posted their pictures, words, and daily goings-on on the Internet. It's just that beyond a cursory, "Do you have kids?" or, "How are the kids?" we all just had other things to talk about. Or other things to drink or dance about, as the case may be. <br />
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Don't get me wrong, I adore my children, I love being a mother, and I wholeheartedly embrace motherhood as a part of my identity. In this season of life, I am a stay at home mom devoting my days to family life. It's just that motherhood is not the only thing that makes me who I am. I'm so immersed in domesticity at the moment that it was nice to take a break from that leading role for a couple nights. When I was practicing law, going to the office meant putting on a different hat and being seen in a different light. I think I miss that aspect of work. Nowadays, many of my girlfriends (at least the small circle that I do occasional dinner dates with) are people I met through June's preschool, so while I cherish our friendship and time together, I also know that these are people who knew me first "as a mom." Having children of similar ages binds us together, so not surprisingly, the conversation often turns to our own children, or how to handle the little things that we're all going through. I do not mean to denigrate those experiences, because that is a support network that is invaluable to me. I'm just saying, it was refreshing to momentarily feel like none of that stuff mattered much.<br />
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High school reunions are a little bit scary for most people, because they raise up our old demons, remind of us of stupid mistakes we made, and bring out insecurities that we suffered while navigating the complex (and seemingly highly important) social scene of our teen years. I get that, so I get it why people often don't want to attend. ("People" including my husband, for instance, although I'm sure his reasons included none of the above.) Sometimes the reason is as simple as, "But I'm already in touch with the friends from high school that I care about." That does make quite a bit of sense, and I could see myself falling into that category as I get even further away from my high school years. But this time around, it was actually fun. (Certainly more fun than the 10 year, which I had a hand in planning. Two thumbs up for casual bar nights instead of stuffy banquets.)<br />
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Anyway, it was a breath of fresh air for this lady. (Awkward, bizarre air that became less so as the weekend went on I guess. Or maybe I am only remembering the good parts now that it's over.) Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-28077526345216102862014-06-22T21:02:00.001-05:002014-06-22T21:04:37.221-05:00All packed for my 20th high school reunion<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We're driving to Missouri for my reunion, so I asked the girls to pack some car entertainment for themselves and their brother for the 6-7 hour ride. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's what June chose:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 bracelets</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 purple hair scrunchy</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 three-page baby bathtub book </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 button</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2 seashells </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 Chapstick</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1 miniature pad of paper</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">All packed into a small personalized bag. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Okay, so, I guess we're all set then.</span> </span></span></div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-24900486300297296542014-06-15T22:28:00.000-05:002014-06-16T07:13:45.821-05:00Happy Father's DayMy loves.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14242614998" title="Happy Father's Day! by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Happy Father's Day!" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2899/14242614998_2304e5c95e.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(If only the kids would ever let you chillax like that for more than 5 seconds, huh Joe?)
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14429473171" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3886/14429473171_b1c79b40bf_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14453004473" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2921/14453004473_87ccdf3dbe_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
No, really, this is how the kids are with Joe MOST of the time. (The photo below was not staged in any way.) It must be hard to find peace when you are so beloved.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14432770625" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3870/14432770625_369435a93e_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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Great day filled with sleeping in, toaster waffles, homemade cards, running into our former babysitter at the Logan Square farmer's market, World Cup/U.S. Open/My Little Pony action/napping (there's a fine line between the two), a pop-in visit from "Aunt Bess", and a rhubarb crisp.
The great thing about breakfast in bed is that you are expected to transition immediately from sleeping to eating. (We will forgive your bedhead.) The great thing about having your children cook for you is that they make their favorite breakfast instead of yours. And then they try to steal it.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14246125249" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3915/14246125249_1eac87ca88_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14246215560" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3844/14246215560_8a2396a10d_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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No fair! They'd never pose this perfectly with me.
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14246166309" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="640" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2921/14246166309_0ff014f8d4_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14246167839" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="640" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2940/14246167839_55a26f6d63_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14431506122" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="640" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5474/14431506122_aa7e5fccae_z.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14431647862" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3858/14431647862_6560014f62_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14429611161" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3859/14429611161_d08431d1da_z.jpg" width="480" /></a>
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We love you, Joe!
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-51367699639918222822014-05-19T23:41:00.000-05:002014-05-19T23:41:14.036-05:00Mother's DayWhat's funny about this card is that I could've written the same thing to her. We're just asking each other for very different things.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14224897792" title="d28db160-d7cd-43f4-ab53-0c4d4d21a3aa by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="d28db160-d7cd-43f4-ab53-0c4d4d21a3aa" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5484/14224897792_c7a9a04f83.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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And to all my mama friends out there, please remember that even on your worst days, this is what your child thinks of you. Even if she can't write it or say it yet, it's in there.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14223780321" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2911/14223780321_5442028e97.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Thanks, Georgia, this means the world to me. I really am trying so hard not to blow it.)
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June's class hosted a pre-Mother's Day event at her preschool. Had I known my picture would be immortalized forever in the world's most special handcrafted frame, I might've submitted something other than a low-res, haphazard selfie.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14040432428" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5196/14040432428_3bbff6d9a2.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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But I mentioned the frame, right? Our portrait has been bedazzled and I shall treasure it forever. She'll be all grown up and changing the world, and I'll still be happily looking at this thing on my dresser. That's just how motherhood works I guess.
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Here we are on actual Mother's Day, outside a restaurant in Sanibel, Florida. Plans to have Joe take a "nice" photo of me with the kids fell through after Georgia had a minor allergic reaction and we felt the need to flee the premises, but this version does seem more accurate.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14223782231" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="480" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2909/14223782231_9011f167a1.jpg" width="480" /></a> <br />
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I am so lucky.<br />
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There are times in my days when I need reminding of that. Which is so dumb, because I know it with all my heart. <br />
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I am so lucky. Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-33133211800230905402014-04-27T23:12:00.003-05:002014-04-27T23:25:56.196-05:00Easter Pictures 2014My annual smattering of blurry photos of faceless children bent over looking for eggs. : )<br />
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Plus the many surprised and amazed expressions of Waylon, for whom this was in some ways a first (I don't think he really recalled any of this action from prior years - he probably slept through all or part of it or wasn't allowed candy or something).<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13984233514" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7107/13984233514_2f4ccca84f.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14003797263" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2935/14003797263_f1b978f49e.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960700706" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5105/13960700706_af17db7080.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(Pardon the mess. We haven't been in this room in about six months.)
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13980591361" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7218/13980591361_5e2b9d0861.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983200535" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2907/13983200535_d48277bff9.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983611364" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7041/13983611364_d9a029be42.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983584734" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7447/13983584734_d94c27a96d.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14003137553" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2914/14003137553_7957c6af11.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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New underwear must be tried on immediately. And accesorized with a cape. And slept in. And worn outside. And not taken off for 3 days straight.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14003129943" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7151/14003129943_0e4853f773.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983568634" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7402/13983568634_32c05312b8.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960020136" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5484/13960020136_d1e09ae1c6.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13979939931" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7426/13979939931_d31c73f0e7.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13979910902" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5076/13979910902_3e202beb18.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983537404" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2927/13983537404_8f53b6cd9a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983527434" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2921/13983527434_759b4aae61.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13959983296" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7014/13959983296_e3595d7cab.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(We thought we might have a bunny and a fairy visiting us on the same night, but alas, that tooth hung on by a thread!)<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14003074273" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5225/14003074273_13479c3270.jpg" width="375" /></a><br />
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[<i>We interrupt these candid photographs for some forced poses. I mean, c'mon. Our family only cleans up a few times a year.</i>] <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14044492395" title="DSC_1161 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1161" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5111/14044492395_4b15b91461.jpg" width="332" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14044492675" title="DSC_1162 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1162" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7238/14044492675_9281f509ef.jpg" width="328" /></a>
<br />(That would be the girls trying to rip Waylon's fingers out of his mouth and off his ear.)<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14064519713" title="DSC_1170 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1170" height="332" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7442/14064519713_a05d8853e7.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14041298712" title="DSC_1173 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1173" height="332" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7324/14041298712_c766015e91.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14041305831" title="DSC_1174 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1174" height="332" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2932/14041305831_092fc0570a.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14041299452" title="DSC_1175 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1175" height="332" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2910/14041299452_20f1e2647e.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<br />(Only his mama ever notices the scars from the 376 times he has split his lip open; until he makes faces like this.)<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14044949404" title="DSC_1176 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1176" height="332" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7068/14044949404_d2053eee5c.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<br />(I just had to include this one because it makes me laugh. These are their "cheese" faces.)<br /> <br /><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14021363956" title="DSC_1180 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1180" height="332" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7179/14021363956_1750a99fe0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14044949664" title="DSC_1181 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_1181" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2920/14044949664_ed771b23b9.jpg" width="357" /></a>
<br />The ever-changing, always beautiful landscape of her face.<br /><br />[<i>Aaaand...we now return to our regularly scheduled programming.</i>]<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13979893961" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7030/13979893961_a584b47758.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Savor that little church donut, June. Savor it sloooowly.) : )
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13959957516" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7147/13959957516_37973458fc.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983489204" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5131/13983489204_b79c5f5f02.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Make that donut last, June.) : )
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13983046115" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5491/13983046115_43330bdf91.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(A family photo! Our church meets in a theater in Wicker Park. It's kind of unconventional, but then again, so are the nature of the sermons.)<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13961030691" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7385/13961030691_a5d47d67ba.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(She hasn't completely lost her city kid skills.) : )
<br /><br />Home, Jeeves, for a scavenger hunt!<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13984183493" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2920/13984183493_c462c0b62a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13961572553" title="Which way you like better? by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Which way you like better?" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7235/13961572553_c2ab2d53e6.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Our warm weather was short-lived, but Sunday was outstanding. The warmest Easter I've ever experienced in Chicagoland. And we took full advantage of it, especially after Aunt Sara showed up with KITES! (Pardon my inability to narrow these down. Life got intensely picturesque for like 10 minutes of bliss.)<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13940989856" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2929/13940989856_520abfdbf6.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960911412" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7324/13960911412_ee287a31f9.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960907951" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7197/13960907951_8e295f5f8c.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13964524214" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7327/13964524214_e209699f01.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13984052973" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7436/13984052973_239cc0aba0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13984050333" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7458/13984050333_33db9349c6.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7171/13960891032_62e4190fa1.jpg" width="500" /><br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13964508894" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7058/13964508894_bb162cc275.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13963874655" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7174/13963874655_7556eec795.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13940759946" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5141/13940759946_962afd6315.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960666052" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2922/13960666052_aa41fee526.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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<br />
Watch out, Uncle Vake!<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960663152" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2919/13960663152_aeb8cef14c.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960659271" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7274/13960659271_25ec45dc96.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13940734916" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5020/13940734916_36c8bd2df6.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13964265274" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2898/13964265274_6d4af59657.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960646131" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5241/13960646131_64b064b43f.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13960642862" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7259/13960642862_11e43b39b2.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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<br />And then there was dinner and a little dessert with help from my most eager sous chef.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/14041306991" title="DSC_1183 by baumgak, on Flickr"><img src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5516/14041306991_c96789fed6.jpg" width="500" height="332" alt="DSC_1183"></a>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-65586588889901246812014-04-08T13:35:00.003-05:002014-04-08T13:40:23.507-05:0048 Hours Roundtrip to St. LouisMy friend Kelly and I had been talking for a long time about meeting up in St. Louis with our kids someday just for the hell of it. Georgia and June were on spring break last week, so it seemed like the perfect chance. It was also a bit of test run for me, to try a road trip on my own with the kids, including sleeping in a hotel room. (Oh, the places we'll go! I have grand visions.) Alas, I nearly bowed out of this trip when the timing didn't come together as perfectly as I had hoped. But sometimes you have to just go with it, knowing that you'll be sitting at home regretting your choice later if you don't at least give it a try.<br />
<br />
And I'm <i>so glad</i> we went. It was fantastic. Better than I expected, actually, and that's despite the fact that a tornado warning the first night caused sirens to go off and resulted in my having to haul frightened kiddos to the hotel lobby for a brief spell after their bedtime.<br />
<br />
My mom was able to drive from Columbia and meet us for an excursion to the St. Louis Science Center before Kelly and her kids got to town. Thankfully she understood that everyone was operating on way less sleep than normal. Having kids who like to rest a lot is a wonderful blessing, but as with anything, there are tradeoffs. When they don't get their required daily dose of koala-like sleeping conditions, tensions can flare.<br />
<br />
After the Science Center and lunch, all three kids went down for a nap. For a few hours. And that was the point when I realized how awesome a getaway like this really is. Because I truly relaxed. I didn't do laundry, or plan a grocery list, or feel like I <i>should</i> be working on something else, because when you're in a hotel with three sleeping children, you really can't do much of anything else. It's that constant feeling of "should" that often prevents me from fully relaxing at home, which is why something as simple, (or some might argue, challenging), as a 48 hour solo road trip with my children actually felt like a mini-vacation. I dare say more vacation-y than some of our recent family trips to Florida. (Not that I'll be trading Sanibel for St. Louis anytime soon, though. That sun and ocean are big draws!) <br />
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We wanted to visit the arch but the stars did not align, which is okay. I went into this trip just wanting everyone to have fun, and I know that the kids were <strike>just as happy</strike> even happier at the freezing cold hotel pool than if we'd hit more sights. Plus, I know the arch will still be there, and after this trip, I'm all set to go back, especially since now Joe wants to go, too.<br />
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You Chicagoans may be thinking, "St. Louis? Really?" and I get that. It's not your typical spring break getaway. Or anytime getaway for that matter, for people coming from another midwestern metropolis. But if you're looking for a less expensive than Cancun, warmer than Wisconsin, relatively quick and easy change of pace, particularly for kid-centric museums and attractions, I'd recommend it. After all, I was back in time on Saturday to go out to dinner at Bistro Campagne in Lincoln Square with some girlfriends. What better way to end 48 hours straight with your children than to leave them with your husband (who's been missing them) to bathe them, feed them, and put them all to bed? : )<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683465244" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2831/13683465244_cfc0541cb4.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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As close as we got to the arch.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683185093" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7041/13683185093_7d625a83e3.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683272565" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3811/13683272565_3c1ee92aed.jpg" width="309" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683880984" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2914/13683880984_958a5b857d.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683172165" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2924/13683172165_64c1211305.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
Waylon's first viewing of "Cars". <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683282275" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7022/13683282275_3cc98e976d.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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That would be Waylon, somehow still sleeping for about 10 more minutes as the girls and I proceeded to have breakfast, with the lights on, just a few feet away (see next picture). <br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683287145" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7429/13683287145_8d53185a70.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3827/13683656504_1b76d0d381.jpg" width="375" /><br />
Puuuuuuuuush!<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683743344" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3753/13683743344_fa79b982f4.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683396245" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7181/13683396245_d1f09e7c6c.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683757124" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2828/13683757124_1683c59547.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683790584" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7052/13683790584_cb07f5245b.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Build it.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683488293" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7322/13683488293_7a6a69476a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Play with it.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683493193" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3736/13683493193_665decc1bc.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Knock it down!<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683820094" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3719/13683820094_1b82b48443.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3722/13683847074_af32b97ede.jpg" width="375" /><br />
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Did I mention they were a little worn out from the drive and all the tornado excitement?<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683856994" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7136/13683856994_492422ef05.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7312/13683576793_1bb1170c28.jpg" width="500" /><br />
You go first.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700807214" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2925/13700807214_996f1c3bfa.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700489773" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2819/13700489773_9106e8019f.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(I do not like this picture, but I am officially trying to "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html" target="_blank">get in the picture</a>". I don't want to do these excursions with my kids and then have it look like I wasn't even there fifty years from now.)
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700478985" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2848/13700478985_080e824d51.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Jessica and Susan, you will get a kick out of this shot. Apparently Waylon has inherited the "Columbia gene", as evident from his attempts to plop down and rest on the mall benches and floor. Here June and Evelyn are trying to coax him up.)
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Dessert!<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700521455" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3794/13700521455_6c18d58f12.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Thanks for the brownies, Mom. The kids all loved them.
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700851554" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2919/13700851554_84db22f7be.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700515263" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7368/13700515263_24f8871ba0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Group snuggle shot!<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700525585" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7140/13700525585_cea0d54a86.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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The next morning. Please witness June's "side" of the bed. I slept in a sea of elbows and knees. <br />
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Okay, I could not stop photographing these girls holding hands. Particularly Evelyn and June. And how sweet was Evelyn to let June borrow her baby doll and accompanying backpack and doll accessories for basically the whole trip, even overnight? June took great care with baby Jenna and fed her approximately 3,487,287 times. At home she later reported to Joe that Evelyn loaning her this doll was the most "frienshipiest" part of the trip. : )<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683943855" title="Because it is impossible to stop taking pictures of little girlfriends holding hands, but I could not find a collage template with more boxes. by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Because it is impossible to stop taking pictures of little girlfriends holding hands, but I could not find a collage template with more boxes." height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7455/13683943855_e6490d008c.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13721775205" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5573/13721775205_a57ab1a5ea.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683619283" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7095/13683619283_ec6f354bba.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<br />
Oops. We noticed this sign a little late:
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13683637033" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3813/13683637033_905ffceb1a.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13699994103" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7273/13699994103_14d98e9629.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Thank you photographer Georgia for helping me get in the picture. (Hey Miles, I think someone's eying your free Froot Loops from the hotel buffet.)
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="500" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13654295114/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>
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Hippo mouth!<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700653903" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2928/13700653903_3ced7417af.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700122853" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2933/13700122853_6e4aff99b8.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700652655" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7058/13700652655_45ec3cbecd.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13701027504" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7097/13701027504_d4565dc945.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Make fun of me if you want for wearing a 2 or 4 year old in my Ergo carrier, but check out what Evelyn does when her legs get tired - she folds herself in half and (happily) stuffs herself into a stroller basket. Hilarious!<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700116143" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7269/13700116143_876942a1fd.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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And now, the moment we've all been waiting for. Begging for. Asking about since we entered the zoo: the train. (Waylon was quite annoyed to hear that the zoo involved one train and lots of animals rather than lots of trains and one animal.) He doesn't look thrilled in these pictures, but that's only because he was so beside himself with excitement and transfixed by what was happening to even smile. Oh, and he was nonplussed about his mother repeatedly attempting to take his picture. : )
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700500754" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7087/13700500754_72fa4eec65.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700506784" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2865/13700506784_2cd9e6c847.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700172545" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7370/13700172545_038fef5aee.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700210723" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7458/13700210723_8affaef683.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700551714" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3793/13700551714_0c719d374a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700236993" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3799/13700236993_8972291c8d.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Waving at everyone we passed.)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700583844" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5006/13700583844_9a1040897a.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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(Handing tickets to the engineer.)<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700590264" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3801/13700590264_c93388c156.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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The End. <br />
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And then we drove home and resumed normal operations (i.e., June immediately asked Joe to start a fire and build her a nest.) : )
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13700689564" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3830/13700689564_39d25441ec.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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(As you can see, 10 months in and we're still getting settled in our "new" home.)
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<br />
One question I'll leave you parents with: do you ever find that your children behave better in the presence of one parent rather than two? It's so counter-intuitive, you'd think more adult attention to go around would always make things better, but sometimes it only leads our kids to have a "divide and conquer" approach. Case in point: this car trip. With one adult on board, they just get it that I can't pick stuff up for them when they drop it (well, save for my use of this <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Toysmith-6130-12-Robot-Claw/dp/B000F4G5KK/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1396982112&sr=8-2&keywords=toy+claw" target="_blank">toy claw</a> - no joke), and they made it through with no electronics since I couldn't very well turn things on and off or help them pass around our computer (our usual screen of choice on long car trips) [<i>Note to self</i>: spring for the on-board drop-down DVD player (or whatever they've invented by then) next time we buy a vehicle]. But when our whole family travels together, it's a seemingly endless stream of demands invariably requiring one of us to unbuckle and contort ourselves into the backseat and back again! Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-62226191682000229582014-04-02T22:11:00.001-05:002014-04-07T20:55:15.571-05:00Georgia lost another tooth<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13430179053" title="Move over, Lauren Hutton. by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Move over, Lauren Hutton." height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7111/13430179053_f6e93e74d1.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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Georgia lost one of her front teeth last week, and like many things tend to go with her, it was nothing if not dramatic. It did not go gently into the night, and oh did she rage. <br />
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In short course this small storm passed, the tooth fell out (with a gentle tug from Joe), the blood stopped, and the tooth fairy came. All was well and right in the world again. <br />
<br />
But in the meantime, June showed her sister great compassion, and for that I am proud of her. It comes as no surprise to me that the three words she knows how to spell correctly on her own are June, love, and Georgia. She is such the little caretaker of our family, an honorable role that Joe and I will nevertheless watch with caution as she grows, for it is a risky business to tie one's worth or happiness to the happiness of others. Maybe every family needs a peacemaker, though. We are lucky to have such a loving one right now.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13593603645" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3778/13593603645_f3b527d5db.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
Window markers by June. <br />
<br />
<i>(And now I will paste this Dylan Thomas poem here for absolutely no related reason other than my having alluded to it above. A play on words, if you will. Don't read anything more into this tooth story. Joe just reminded me that he only remembers this poem from Rodney Dangerfield reciting it in Back to School.) </i>: ) <i> </i><br />
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
nto that</div>
<br />
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />
Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br />
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, <br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br />
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />
Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br />
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, <br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br />
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf</div>
<div class="poem">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Do not go gentle into that good night, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Because their words had forked no lightning they </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Do not go gentle into that good night. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Do not go gentle into that good night. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. </div>
<br />
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
And you, my father, there on the sad height, </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Do not go gentle into that good night. </div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</div>
</blockquote>
</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />
Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br />
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, <br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br />
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />
Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br />
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
<br />
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, <br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br />
<br />
And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br />
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9213835501335487011.post-87760782742670258282014-03-31T23:11:00.000-05:002014-04-01T12:11:51.017-05:00Spring Break has SprungThis weather won't last all week, so we made for the Arboretum today while the gettin' was good.<br />
Progress report: first four person hike without a stroller. (Although, the fact that I can actually bring a stroller on these trails makes me question, does it still count as a "hike"?) I did bring the Ergo, though, and Waylon was happy to ride on the way back, despite all photographic evidence to the contrary. Of course, seeing one person get a ride makes others whine that their legs and feet hurt, though, so maybe I should've just brought the stroller. Still - we had a great time. Pretty much the only benefit of a harsh winter as I see it is that it makes you REALLY appreciate signs of warmth and the change of seasons. Notice that despite temps eking into the low 60's, there was still significant snow lingering in the children's garden. I guess it's going to take a while.<br />
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13548424134" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3785/13548424134_e3ed3d41f9.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13564154524" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7416/13564154524_e77dbf70ee.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13564161784" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2841/13564161784_d45077c422.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13548552224" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7459/13548552224_6d36198039.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7452/13552604653_b7300a7a66.jpg" width="374" /><br />(Maybe he didn't like Georgia taking our picture? I swear he was happy as a clam up there.) <br /><br /><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13552519704" title="Exploring by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Exploring" height="375" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3670/13552519704_ce79a12bb0.jpg" width="500" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13547877223" title="Untitled by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="375" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2924/13547877223_bd89489181.jpg" width="500" /></a><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13563819295" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5288/13563819295_d4ec6c0c49.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13563886723" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2923/13563886723_8c14ff9b0c.jpg" width="375" /></a>
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26677764@N08/13564182924" title=" by baumgak, on Flickr"><img alt=" " height="500" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3805/13564182924_77c7209bd8.jpg" width="375" /></a>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06582340182176367822noreply@blogger.com3