So there we are...

Neglecting the blog makes me feel that soon, I may forget all the funny, wonderful, heartbreaking, silly, crazy things that happen in our lives, and then we won't remember. For in this day and age, a digital record is all we have.... digital photos, digital journal, social media. For someone who loves printed books as much as I do, I would think that I would have been better about this. Ah well. Can't beat myself about something else now - too many other things deserve the lash as of late.

If there is anyone out there who still reads the blog, you probably know we are moving. to Santa Cruz. very soon. But we know not when. Because we HAVE NO PLACE TO LIVE YET, YA'LL. Freaking out just a bit. But then was put in serious check after seeing the pictures of the devastation in Oklahoma and then I hugged my girls all the more tight last night before I put them to bed and realized that we are lucky for what we have.

Everything has been clicking into place, so we are trying to assume that housing possibilites will too, although I did realize last night that things come in "three" - and we may have maxed out our 3 on this venture.
1) Steve got into school where we wanted.
2) Steve got in-state residency and a fellowship so we don't have to pay for school.
3) I got the job I wanted at Shakespeare Santa Cruz.

and scene.

Hmmm... so the options now are living in the VW Van. Seriously. Although in thinking about, I think Stella would probably think that it could be the most awesome thing ever, so why would we even CONSIDER living in a house? ;)

The girls are being quite wonderful, consider all the chaos erupting in our lives yet again. I think they both feel the stress a bit, and even though I haven't packed any of their things, Stella was very concerned about me packing non-essential kitchen items yesterday. Then again, I guess since the kitchen is like our second home together, that could be affecting her as much as packing some toys she hardly plays with. They both have enjoyed being able to draw on the cardboard boxes with chalk and markers so we'll certainly have a splash of color on the moving truck. ;) Not that we've reserved a truck. Or movers to help pack it. You know, BECAUSE WE DON'T KNOW WHEN WE ARE LEAVING. Calm. Calm...

Louisa continues to amaze us with her grasp of communication and how fast she picks things up. I know Stella wasn't a slow learner, but I never remember her being on top of things as quick as it seems Louisa is. We taught her how to toast at the dinner table the other night - "click" as we call it. Stella loves to do it, and now Louisa thinks it could be the coolest thing ever... save for the fact that she wants to do it over and over again, and Steve was wondering how his youngest daughter could drink him under the table so soon. ;)

She also is starting to talk, which is odd for us, since Stella was so spotty with words until she was 2. Louisa's first word was "hi" which seems only fitting because she is such a gregarious and outgoing little girl. That has been quickly followed by "out" and now "up" - which, of course, are also the most important things for her - going outside and getting up in our arms. Stella taught her to "neigh" like a horse and she thinks it's pretty awesome. It's wonderful to experience this fast-paced learning/experiential environment again with her. I remember just being fascinated how much Stella took in at this age, how much she enjoyed life, and I feel so lucky to see it all again. It brings us such joy.

Louisa, however, also learned quickly from her sister how to throw tantrums, which I don't remember Stella doing at all this young. She throws her food on the floor at the table when she's pissed, she throws a fit when we say it's time for bed and rolls around on the floor crying... wow. I'm just hoping we get it all out now and then won't have to go through the 3-4 yr old nightmare, but I have a feeling that won't be the case. I always knew she was a warrior baby, and that is playing out in due course.

Stella, magically as I was promised, has subsided in tantrum land and has become so mature about certain things... she's able to explain her feelings so much more, able to make adjustments with her sister (although we're still having sharing issues, but I don't think that is EVER going to go away). So far, she is taking this moving thing in stride, which is wonderful, because we're very concerned about her emotional stability when we keep uprooting her and moving all the time.

And Vegas? Steve and I have been wondering what we'd miss. It took us a long time to come up with something. And the only thing we can honestly say we're going to miss about Las Vegas is our crackers and cereal not going stale as quickly. Yep. that's it. So if the girls forget to roll down the cereal packaging, because it's SO DAMN DRY, nothing gets stale as quickly.

Yep. Not-stale crackers. I think I can handle missing that.

FOUR?

Dear Stella,

This morning, I told you the story of your birth. Actually, I started by telling you about the day before. Because this morning you woke up and told me there was no way you could wait until tomorrow for your birthday. So I explained how on this day, April 15, four years ago, I was in yoga class and couldn't wait for you to come out... the point, of course, of my story being that I couldn't wait either, but you came when you wanted, the next day. "And then what happened?" you asked excitedly. You didn't completely understand the concept of "Water-breaking" but you laughed that it happened at the dog park and that Scuppy wouldn't get on leash so I could drive home. 

I would say that that seems like only yesterday... but in actuality, it doesn't. It seems like a lifetime ago that we had you, that you have always been with us. And for the most part, I mean that in the best way possible. We love to hear you sing, your long narrative songs that seem to have no rhyme or reason but end up telling the most fantastical tales. We love to watch your interpretive dance - in the living room, on the bed, in the yard, in the lake (oh yes, this weekend there was dancing at the lake) - your free-flow form just making up, making do, and making joy. We love that you always want to help cook in the kitchen, and yes, I promise maybe this year I'll start to show you how things work on the stove because I guess the mixer and the food processor are just old hat now. 

I won't sugar coat this year and say it has been all sparkles and glitter. Because we both know it hasn't. But then again, it has been a great year of transitions. A new baby sister, a new place to live, and by your next birthday, we'll be celebrating it somewhere else. So considering the momentous changes in your short life, I think we've managed okay. I was told by someone that the day her son turned four, he magically became a different person. No more tantrums, no more acting out. We're hopeful that this might actually happen to us, but I have a feeling it won't. And I guess that will be ok. Your emotions lie so close to the surface, and for the most part, I don't we would have it any other way. Because although those emotions give us sweeping tantrums, they also give us the biggest heart, the greatest compassion, and the warmest love. 

To our dancer, our artist, our shining star, 

Happy birthday.

Better late than never...

My dear Louisa,

You turned one on Friday. Today is Monday. If you were on the only child (or in Stella's case) the first child, I would have crafted this blog post the day of your birthday, marking time, remembering the year that we have spent together. And yet, you have fallen into the stereotypical "second sibling" syndrome where some things end up being an after thought, and we rush through life, moving forward without much time to look back.

In some ways, that is very much who you are... moving forward with gusto and life. As your caregiver at daycare remarked on Thursday, "Oh my gosh, she is almost running now." Yes, at one year old, you are doing our full set of stairs without stopping, practically running instead of toddling, understanding EVERYTHING we say and voicing your opinion with emphatic shakes of the head (as in NO I don't want a diaper changer or NO I don't want my nose wiped). I think, in many ways, you are just trying to keep up with your big sister, but I don't think I can chalk up your rapid development to just that. You are, and will always be, my warrior baby. I knew that at 4 months in utero when you proceeded to kick and punch and make your opinions known, quite forcefully. I am here! it felt like you were always saying, I'm ready! Just let me at that world! And after spending a wonderful year with you, I can say that you embrace life in such the same fashion. Challenges do not seem daunting to you - you just consider the situation, and go and do it. Large box in the way in the kitchen? No worries, I'll just push it the length of the hallway out of the way? Something in my path to get to momma? No worries, I'll just climb over it. The bath water just turned on? Great, let me try to climb in that tub right now! New food in front of me? Sure! Bring it on.

And yet, for the most part, you have been the calmest child I could ever hope for. The first month of your life, your grammy kept saying "what a good baby" you were, and it's true. You hardly ever cry, and if you do, we know that something is wrong. You still love to bury your head in our shoulders, wiggling your butt to snuggle into a comfy position. Music comes on, and you immediately shake your shoulders with joy. And now that you've found the joy of being outside, I don't think we'll ever get you back in the house. (You are your sister's sibling after all).

I won't bring up that you're still not sleeping through the night... but that's probably because I've spoiled you a bit... and probably because I don't want to let you grow up just yet. Not ready to say goodbye to my "infant" and welcome a "toddler." But then again, you left infancy in the dust about 2 months ago. I am the one that needs to catch up now.

We are very excited for what the next year will bring. As one of your sister's book says, "This year with you my child, has been fun, it's true. I loved watching you turn one, but I can't wait for two."

Tutus at 8 am?

Yes please!

The evil should monster

I should be researching food culture and the blogosphere right now. Hell, I should have done that a month ago and should actually be writing right now.

I should be writing lesson plans for classes 2 weeks from now so that I can get ahead.

I should be writing a lesson plan for class for tomorrow, or watching the film that I've assigned but actually have only watched scenes from, and thus, will probably end up "winging" class tomorrow which makes me feel awful.

I should be getting better from all the DOOM SICKNESS that enveloped our house, but instead, due to the 25mph winds here today, am full of snot and post-nasal drip because pollen is at an all-time high.

But in the face of all these "shoulds" I'm blogging about it. Basically whining about it. Because instead of putting all that energy into doing something, I am, in fact, seized with such lethargy and innertia that I can't do anything.

This is not a good place to be. What it makes me is a cranky mom.

I snapped at Stella three times in the course of 10 minutes this morning. Instead of calmly explaining why pushing her sister was not the most effective way of keeping her away from the toilet, instead of explaining why pushing her sister to the floor to keep her out of my sink drawers was not the most effective way, instead of explaining to Stella why trying to pick her sister up by the neck was not the most effective way of picking her up, instead of explaining calmly why almost 4 year olds don't really need "mousse" in the hair, regardless of the fact that Mommy used it to try to make her crappy hair look somewhat decent, which in the end did not work.... instead of using calm, I used loud. "Stella! Stop it!" "Stella, we don't do that to Louisa!" "Stella? What are you doing?"

I can understand why she has been so defiant these days. Who wants to be corrected all the time? I certainly don't. In fact, if she truly is my child, which I believe she is, then she wants to be right all the time. ;) So then the should monster rears its ugly head and tells me all day, I "should" be a better parent.

The amount of pressure we parents of young children put on ourselves is enormous. In fact, some days, too enormous to hold the weight and it all comes crashing down. Into yells. Into tears. Into tantrums. Into a big handful of cookies or a drink after the kids go to bed because self-medicating with either chocolate or bourbon seems like the best thing.

I didn't take the dog running this morning. I "should" have. And this is the only should I know I "should" have made at least a priority because maybe the 20 minutes, the simple quiet 20 minutes of a run all myself without any kids hanging off of me might have helped my mood. 20 minutes of "me" time. 20 minutes of doing something for my body to make it have the energy it needs to run around later after 2 children.

I know I'm not in this alone. But without a strong framework of friends or family here, we feel like we are flying by the seat of our pants most days... or adrift on a raft, floating aimlessly, wondering if we'll ever see land. No wonder Stella is at her peak emotionally most days. Without the interaction of other people from school, she's stuck with her family 24-7. We haven't had a little girl to play at our house since Santa Barbara... there, yet again, we "should" do better by our kids. But when her school best friend's mom won't even say hello to me, won't even look me in the eye when we cross paths at pick-up time, I'm not sure how to even broach the "hey, you want to come over for a playdate?" question.

This post has now become a jumble of thoughts... funny, I was teaching my students in Theatre History on Monday about the Surrealists... in a way, today feels a lot like automatic writing. The need to put whatever is in one's head down on paper, and looking back later for the illuminations that arise.

Related?

I always wonder if we look related... still not sure.

As an aside, Stella insisted that we take this photo on the new camp chair that Steve found left at the local baseball field... you know, lest you think that we have some random red frame chair in our living room.

From the mouths of...

Louisa knocks over Stella's play stroller with her stuffed animals in it, and Stella utters:

"Oh Bunny, I know. That was traumatic for you."

Steve and I almost lose it. "Um, Stella, do you know what the word 'traumatic' means?"

"No."

"Well, you used it properly. Do you want me to tell you what it means?"

"No."


***********

Before going to bed a few nights ago:

"Mommy, can I ask you a question?"

Sure.

"Mommy, why does the sorcerer turn the white swan into a black swan?"

What?

"the white swan? Why does he do that?"

Oh, you mean in Swan Lake? (which we watched like 3 weeks before and hadn't talked about it since.) Well, he's a mean sorcerer, and really the black swan is his daughter pretending to look like the white swan.

"Why?"

Um, because that's the story. The sorcerer wants the white swan to live in his lake forever because he likes her.

"But the prince likes her! That's not fair."

No Stella, it isn't.

"Good night Mommy."

When life gives you sand...

you make sand angels. Of course.

Mommy, I'm a Dancer!

We've heard that phrase before. About a year ago, in fact. or something like that... I know I made note of it on the blog before. The time is just smushing together lately. You look around, and all of a sudden, your baby is walking consistently around the house, when you try to put her down on her bottom, she prefers her feet, and you realize, crap, she'll be one in two weeks, and if she's walking that means she's a toddler and not a baby anymore, and how did THAT happen?

But back to dance. Because we are a bit obsessed with it at our house right now. We searched around the area for dance lessons back in early February and then the DOOM SICKNESS enveloped our house and after a month of trying to get out from under the DOOM SICKNESS we are finally headed to ballet class today after school.

It's pretty momentous for Stella. We picked up two new leotards last week at Target (thank you Stella for liking what was on the clearance rack) - you know - one leotard for class and the other to wear around the house EVERY MINUTE that she is awake. Observe:

I have no clue what these poses are, but she's pretty serious about it. So here's to something that might teach her discipline and might, just might, rub off at home.

Tally

I had written a few blog posts in my head over the last few weeks. You know, pithy ones with funny comments by Stella; adorable picture ones of Louisa because she just turned 11 months (!!!) and is now up to 10 steps unassisted, can wave and clap, and kiss my chin (not Steve's because he has too many whiskers); or pictures of our recent trip to the Valley of Fire.

But no. I have to complain.

In the last 2 weeks, here is what we have REALLY been doing.

Pink Eye = both kids.

Horrible wracking cold, complete with mucus galore, no voice, lung-squeezing coughs = both parents.

Ear infection = Louisa. (but that really should say ear infectionS because it never went away and we're on to part two = extended ear infection)

And the piece de resistance?

VOMIT! Entire contents of one's stomach = Stella. Just tonight. Entire bedsheet change. Entire PJ change.

Awesome. I've been to the doctors 3 times for Louisa in the last 2 weeks. One for an undiagnosed pink eye (allergies, she said), one for the real pink eye and ear infection, and one for the follow up ear infection. (Does going to the dentist for a routine appointment count? 'Cause we got two in the last 2 weeks as well.)

I've also been to the doctors 3 times in the last 2 weeks for myself. One for urgent care to tell me, no, 9 days of this cold is totally normal, there is nothing we can do for you, and you probably have 9 days left. And to the worst OB/Gyn in the country who won't give me birth control until I take a blood test pregnancy test and come back to the office then to get said birth control even though I'm a responsible adult and know if I'm pregnant or not. (Not.)

Please please please, blogger, readers, followers, please say a prayer to the higher power (just a small one, reserve the important ones for important things) - nay- not even a prayer - maybe just an aside, an afterthought, that the vomit was just a random vomit and not the FLU or ANYTHING ELSE THAT REQUIRES A DOCTOR VISIT.

Is that trite of me? I hope not.

Sneaky

An insight into the personality of our 10 month old:

Yesterday at preschool, while the two caregivers were either changing diapers and/or feeding other little ones, Louisa and her pals Dillon and Ellie crawled over to the laundry basket where they put dirty bibs, cloths, etc. They then looked over to see what was going on and found this:

Louisa ended up inside (!!) and started tossing out dirty laundry as Ellie clapped her hands while Dillon chewed on a dirty bib. Louisa just kept squawking and throwing out more laundry as the ladies laughed until they cried. We're not exactly sure how she ended up IN the laundry basket, save for the fact that she probably fell in and decided, well, let's see how one can fun this way.

Yep. That's our girl.

Maternal

Dear Stella,

I feel like I have to put this into words, maybe before this beautiful part of your life goes away and you move on to other things. Not that I want you to give it up. In fact, I hope that it is a wonderful window into what may come. However, the problem is, I'm not sure exactly HOW to put it into words. Maybe this picture might be a start?

This is you at 3 and a half. You're wearing your bunny, in a homemade sling that I made for you out of leftover fabric from your blanket for school. You have a "purse" with some change in it, and slung over the other shoulder, a "diaper bag" with an extra diaper and a shirt. You know, for Bunny. You told me that you were headed to Grammy's house on the airplane with your baby and you'd be back in a week. 

It's not the story that I'm most interested in, although it does make a good one, but the care at which you prepared your bunny for the trip. The desire to swaddle her in a sling and hold her close. Your maternal show of affection for all of your stuffed animals makes me smile with such deep joy, I cannot tell you. the other night, you were late coming down for dinner. Why? You were singing a lullaby (your version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow) and putting Bunny to sleep. You sang her the song, wrapped her lovingly in a blanket, and put her in the baby bed. You even tip-toed out of your bedroom and told us that we had better turn off the music downstairs so we didn't wake Bunny. Last night, you chose to sit on the couch after dinner and "breastfeed" Bunny. You even yelled at Scupper that he was distracting her and he needed to stop playing ball. You burped her, swaddled her back in a blanket, and put her in your small stroller, ready for a "nighttime walk" around the house. 

I'm sure I could look at this all another way - that all you think I do is feed Louisa, wrap her in copious amounts of blankets, and put her down for naps. But since you've been doing this before Louisa was born, I can only assume this is just you. Wonderful you. The joy spread across your face as you tend to your animals... the beauty of your songs... the sweetness of your voice. 

Many years down the road, if you decide that children are something you'd like to consider, I hope I remember each of these moments, to tell you of the love for which you've shown your pretend babies and how you'll be the sweetest, most tender mother to your child. Your soul glows with love, my dear. With love.

That was *so* five weeks ago

We had a good break. It was three weeks off from preschool, from lesson plans, from stress about work (or the lack there of), and frankly, we didn’t think about doing much else. We took lots of naps. We baked… oh we baked. My excuse was that we were trying to warm up the downstairs that is perpetually cold but probably it was because what else was there to do but try out the new cookbooks? make lots of things with chocolate? make lots of things with my sourdough starter? just make lots of things? It’s good I started running before the holiday. It’s not like I’m thinner, but at least it kept things at bay… or I’d like to tell myself that.

So we make the requisite sugar cookies with way too many sprinkles:

And we had a merry Christmas, compliments of the grandparents and aunties.

(I didn’t ask her to pose this way, I really didn’t). I caved and bought her a “Cinderella” dress, but felt better about the whole princess thing because I found it at the thrift store after Halloween for $3. And it lights up. Bonus.

We had an awesome time in the aforementioned Winter wonderland with the copious amounts of snow, snuggly blankets, and naps.

We are completely smitten with this one… and I thoroughly enjoyed my time home with her. She is at the joy stage – where everything is exciting, where she wants to be in the thick of it, and where just a smile can make getting up 3 times a night may sometimes be worth it (oh yes, we back-slid. no more sleeping through the night).

And this one, who all of a sudden has been drawing very specific shapes with surprising acumen. I mean, for an almost 4 year old.

But now it’s back to school (yes, somehow Stella and seemed to match in our wacky patterns on our first day back).

Back to lesson plans, back to feeling like I can’t get ahead of things, back to feeling like we don’t have enough time in the day to get everything. In fact, Bacchae lesson plans should be finished by now for class tomorrow at 4pm. But that’s ok. They’ll get done. All in good time. We’re all trying to be patient with ourselves this year. I’m not suggesting that I have resolutions, because then that might be one more thing to make me feel guilty I’m not accomplishing… but being patient. Being kind. Not only to others, because for the most part, that comes easily, but being kind to ourselves. That’s a resolution I feel that I’d like to try to stick to.

Unlike this avocado, which apparently, also has a resolution of being stuck.

Snow

We are at a cabin/house in Northern California.

There is 4 feet of snow around us - more with drifts.

This is the first time that Stella or Scuppy (and of course Louisa) have seen snow.

Ever.

We go out in it twice a day - once in the morning and then again after nap time. Stella loves it. Scuppy could care less and pees on the deck so he doesn't have to go out in it.

Needless to say, we are having an awesome time. It's damn cold. Colder than Steve and I have felt in 10+ years. But it's a blast.

I mean, at least for a week.

uh oh

guess who is army crawling something fierce?

guess who is sitting up and then crawling and then sitting up all on her own?

guess who just decided that maybe she could even try to pull herself up?

uh oh. there goes the neighborhood.

and maybe the Christmas tree....

Fabric

A friend of my parents' daughter is expecting twin girls in January. Eek. I have been piling away Louisa's old clothes, wondering what to do with them, wondering if I should save yet another round of clothes for...

And then I decided that I'd just save the gender neutral stuff and give it all to her. I mean, twin girls? She is going to need some stuff. I packed the pile of everything from 0-6 months last night. And I couldn't believe how emotional I became. Over some clothes. They are just clothes right?

I remember each piece. Who gave it to us. If it was new for Louisa, or if it was a hand-me-down from Stella... or even if it was a hand-me-down from our gracious benefactress of hand-me-downs... Some of those sleepers snuggled 3 girls. And now, they might snuggle two more.

Why did I get emotional over some clothes? For someone that has researched the power of iconography for the last 7 years, I should certainly know about how memories can be stored in inanimate objects. But as I slowly and methodically folded up tiny onesies, sleepers that will never fit Stella or Louisa again, tears slowly melted down my cheeks... the clothes a tangible reminder of how we can never return. How we can never stop the clock. How our children move and change so quickly that even photos, even this blog narrative, cannot stick them in time; pause time; stop time.

Steve said to me yesterday how much fun he is having being home with Louisa. His throat stuck as he said he never got to have this much time with Stella when she was a baby... and yet, my throat stuck as I am not getting the time with Louisa.... although I supposed it's only fair. Both the girls are infinitely lucky that they have had the time with a parent -- and in some ways, it's wonderful that each got to bond with us in different ways. Stella still prefers me, hands-down, to Steve when things are tough, when it's 5 in the morning and she can't sleep, when she needs a big hug. Louisa, on the other hand, was a cranky pants at 3am, and Steve was the only one that could get her back to sleep.

It's not that I want them to stop changing, stop growing. In fact, each new developmental change with Stella, although sometimes PAINFUL in the transition, has been a wonderful discovery for us. The ways in which she learns, the ways in which she conceptually thinks through her world. And I look forward to it with Louisa. Even now, she's already saying "mama" and "dada" - and sometimes, just sometimes, I think she gets what she's saying when she says it, instead of it just being a string of babbling syllables.

We put up white Christmas lights around the yard this past weekend and I said to Stella last night that it reminds me of a piazza. I explained to her the concept of an Italian piazza and we showed her some pictures on Google. Thirty minutes later she asked to go outside to enjoy the night and the "what's the town mommy? the square? you know?" At first I was confused and she started to cry that she couldn't remember what she wanted to say. "Oh, you mean, you want to go outside in the piazza?" Oh yes, the piazza, she replied, tears wiped away, and happy that she had discovered/re-remembered a new word.

"Isn't it lovely, mama?" she asked.

Yes my love. It is lovely. All of it.

Fashionista

Stella looked at the full moon on our walk home from the playground. She said, I want to go to the Moon someday. I told her that she probably could - and then if she wanted to be a scientist or an engineer, then that might prepare her to be an astronaut who could go to the moon.

I don't want to be an astronaut.

Why? I asked. I just don't. Hmm, well, you need to be an astronaut to go to the Moon (I decided that getting into the privatization of the space program might be a little over her head).

I don't like what they wear.

Huh?

I don't like white. I don't like the white suits.

Oh- the white space suits?

Yes, I don't want to be an astronaut and wear the white suits.

Um, okay, Stella, maybe when you're old enough to be an astronaut, the suits will be blue.

Or purple?

Sure, or purple.

Okay, then I'll be an astronaut and go to the moon.

Awesome.

Listening

Whoever said that the twos were terrible had not got to the threes. Let's just say that age 3 to 4 is tough. I think I've complained, I mean, mentioned about this before. Lately, our problem has been listening. Stella, can you please sit in your chair at dinner (her record lately has been 3 minutes. ugh). Stella, it's time for a bath, can you come up with Mommy? Stella, it's not time to jump on your bed; you need to get your underwear and pajamas on. Stella, it's time to go potty before bed. I feel like all we're doing with her lately is harping on her, but it seems that we have to say things 3..4...7... times before she does anything.

So the other night, we were calmly piled in our bed, reading books before bedtime. It had just been a tiring evening of getting her to eat dinner, sharing toys with her sister (don't even get me started on that. Poor Louisa is lucky sometimes if she gets a rattle to play with), and the bathtime routine. Steve started to tell her about Santa. Stella's pretty interested in Santa this year. In fact, the day after Thanksgiving, she told me very seriously, "Mommy, I believe it's almost Christmastime!" We don't even have a TV, but man, advance Christmas commercialism has even got her too.

So, Steve said, you know who only gets presents at Christmas?
"Me?"
No, Stella, only girls and boys that are behaving good. Listening at school to their teachers, listening to their parents, doing the things that they ask when they ask them.
"Oh."
So Stella, if you'd like Santa to come this year and give you presents, then you need to start listening to your parents. We need to see your good behavior so we can tell Santa that you deserve presents.

(beat)

"Okay, I will happily start listening tomorrow."

Steve and I did all we could do not to burst out laughing.

- - -

In other news, Louisa has started army crawling. And finding all the minuscule minutia on the floor. Like tiny pieces of fluff from Scupper's stuffed animals. Like a piece of a tennis ball. Like a flake of oatmeal. Really? All of these things on our off-white carpet? Seems that besides vacuuming twice a week, we'll need to get down on the floor with our eagle eyes and be careful. It's amazing how soon we forget about the whole baby-proofing the house.
- - -

A few weeks ago we escaped 30 minutes out to the desert to Red Rock Canyon. While still a pile of sand and rock (as is most of Las Vegas, plus tacky hotels and concrete), the warmth of the sun, the openess of the sky, and the brisk air was refreshing. Stella did the whole hike herself (new sneakers are awesome motivators) and enjoyed watching the climbers traversing the rocks.

my sweet little one

How is it that the poor second child doesn't get enough blog time like her big sister? I fear this might always be the case with the most chill one of our bunch. She's been the most calm part of our family since she breezed her way into this world. She never really cries, and when she does, you know that she needs something really bad. Otherwise, it's the occasional fuss. It has been a joy to watch her come into her own in the last few months. It's as if after six month, babies find a personality, or maybe it's that we finally find their personality that they have already always had. Louisa may be easy going, but she is determined. In the past two weeks, she's learned to army-crawl. And her ability to zero-in on something she wants has never been more clear. That speck of dirt across the floor? I want it. and bam. She's there. That toy that is completely out of reach? Got it. Those carrots? No thank you, I'm done with you shoving them in my face and they are now splattered across the tray and then the floor.

Yet all of this determination is done with such joy, such verve, that it's hard to be frustrated. She cackled last night in our tug of war over the warm washcloth that I was trying to use to wipe away those carrots. Cackled with joy - calculated joy, I feel, but none the less, happiness. In the middle of the night last night, she was fussing, and when I came in, her face lit up in the night-lighted darkness, and a giggle issued from her mouth. Oh good! Mommy's here! Awesome! It was hard to be frustrated that she was up, as usual, at 2:45am.

Unlike her sister was at this age, Louisa babbles constantly. Certainly, she has to keep up with Stella's talking and singing, and the "ba-ba-ba-ma-da" comes out of her mouth a lot. In fact, yesterday in the car ride home, Stella yelled at one point, "Louisa stop it!! I don't want to listen to you anymore!" ha. Taste of your own medicine, my dear. I don't think we'll ever have to worry about Louisa talking late.

Experiencing this baby, this time around, has been so much sweeter, in some ways. Steve and I keep trying to remember whether we felt so loopy around Stella, so in love. And of course, I'm sure we were. But we were also neurotic, and scared, and confused, and un-sure parents. While we fawned over our first born (and certainly still do) I feel in some ways wonderfully blessed to experience babyhood again, from a more learned, more relaxed perspective. Louisa, my love, you are a joy.

best things this week

listening to Snow White in the car:

the witch says to the huntsman, "Now take her out to the woods, and kill her!"

Stella says, "Oh, that is going to hurt her feelings..."

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my mom visiting for a week to help with the girls while I was at a conference. best mom ever. best husband ever for handling the girls and mother in law.

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watching Stella and Louisa laugh together at the dinner table, sitting next to each other in matching chairs, albeit that Louisa's has a cushion and a tray.

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hearing Louisa BELLY LAUGH at Stella playing peek-a-boo with her over the lip of the tub. seriously, BELLY LAUGH.

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getting completely soaking wet as the girls take a bath together and Louisa sits in her bath chair splashing Stella full force with her legs, laughing the whole time. I am loving watching the siblings interact. it can only get better... of course, until they are older and then fight incessantly. let's postpone that as long as we can. splashing in the tub might help.

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watching Stella put on a full-fledged dance show on our bed after reading books, while Steve and I practically fall asleep as she sings and dances. It wasn't worth trying to stop her. we just figured she would tire herself out eventually. 8 minutes in to Bob Fosse Presents, Stella stops abruptly, says "i'm tired." goes and pees one last time, and looks at me and says, "Mom, are we singing or what?"

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watching Fox News and Karl Rove look like total idiots as the President is re-elected.

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as you can see, trying to find the joy in the crappiness that is las vegas. I may still have 65 papers to grade this weekend, but who cares? I was up at 5:15am and I'm headed to bed. Shakespeare is going to wait until tomorrow.

anon.