Her colors were emerald and violet

This is the goal. Green, cool, lush. A place to sit, be still and listen.

We live in the unyielding Southwest where xeriscaped backyards dotted with multicolored rock mounds and swarthy oleander are the rule and yet I have reason to be hopeful that an inviting place like this is obtainable, even in the blistering desert.

Growing up I spent the majority of my days playing in my grandmother's backyard. Located in the same hostile southwest climate but brimming with all manners of flowers, trees, plants, an indigenous cactus or two thrown in for full flavor. It was a place brimming with life and wonder. As a child I would play under the crab apple trees or spend time scooping up apricots while she would see to the never ending task of keeping the yard orderly, watered, living.

Even as she reached her late nineties and into her 100s I can remember her out in the cool morning air spinning whatever magic was required to maintain our little oasis. At the time I took for granted her capable gardeners hands and did not appreciate the wisdom and talent required to bring forth so much life amidst a scorching, barren back drop. To her credit she grew peaches, plums, apricots, pomegranates, grapes, cherries, pecans, spinach, sunflowers, roses, oleander, rosemary, mint, prickly pear cactus and numerous other trees, plant and flowers I still lack the knowledge to identify.

It's been years since I visited her home or walked in the yard.

I think about her often.

Miss her and all those days spent playing under the canopy of trees, trailing along behind her as she worked.

And lately something has been stirring me to pass that on my little ones. I want them to experience that same joy of spending the day outdoors filling their lungs with fresh air, oblivious to the miracles within nature, but witness to them all the same. And although they will never know her, there will be moments when we are planting marigolds together or watering trees that I will be able to share my memories of her. Share with them memories of sitting with her on the front porch swing amid all the beauty she created, quietly, simply listening.

Our 2010 Photo Journal

This last time I started a photo journal in 2008 I made it through about nine months worth of daily photos and then somewhere between the holidays it dropped off.  Looking back at the 08 photo blog and seeing how much the kids have grown since then and being able to see how much they changed from month to month made me want to give it another go. I'm not holding myself to the same daily requirements that I did last time but so far I haven't missed a day. I decided not to integrate the pics into this blog because of the space limitations so if you're interested in checking out the pics click here.

Panties in the Tree

For some inexplicable reason Sophia has taken to purposely wetting her pants so she has a good excuse for standing butt naked in the back yard admiring her under britches just a'blowin' in the breeze. I'm adding this one to the four years old= insane column. To her credit she has made me think that adding a clothes line to our back yard might be a good idea. I know Patrick has an aversion to how stiff clothes can get from hanging out in the sun but there is no better way to get whites crisp, bright and smelling like the sun. Hmmm, maybe I will add it to our project lists for the weekend..... Oh, honey..........

My Life Story As Told by Shoes

As the final project for my photography class we told our life stories via some type of still life.
Here's what I presented with a cliff notes narrative.

Hit the Jackpot from day one. Could not have asked for a better family to be born into.

Kindergarten and beyond: The nerd in me is outed. I loved school and learning.

Teenage Years: Dark, moody, full of self focused poetic angst. Glad that phase is over.

College: Loved it but it was a very feet in two worlds experience. Never ending academic marathon mixed in with a little (or perhaps a lot of) raucous fun

My first real world work experience as a Pentagon intern and later as a NASA employee in Houston. Plus my first pair of "working lady"  beige pumps. Killer!

Fell in love, got married, and living happily ever after...

Moved to Minnesota and felt happy and at home despite the need for snow boots too many days of the year.

Had a beautiful baby girl, life is sweet

Surprise twin boys! Things could not be better.

Moved back to the Southwest, good to be near family again

My "I'm every woman" picture, Cheesy, yes, but at this stage in my life it really is a balancing act

Center Stage

It should come as no surprise that the child I have on occasion described as the most high spirited and  dramatic person I've ever met would love performing. Should not have doubted that she would be thrilled to flit around in front of an audience of strangers giving them her best twirls, tippy toes, theatrical leaps and all this before the recital even started. For a passing moment I contemplated asking whether she was feeling butterflies tumbling around in her tummy, although one glance at her excited expression settled that question. She waited eagerly for the other classes to finish and the moment her group was introduced she leapt off my lap and gave it her all until the music was quiet again. As a person who took twenty or so years and countless presentations to feel comfortable in front of an audience, I am proud to have a daughter who thinks nothing of performing for dozens of strangers. I only hope that the solid self confidence and fiery bravado will stick with her long after she's outgrown tutus and ballet slippers.

A Very Happy Birthday Weekend with My Mom

We started with candles, cake and very enthusiastic rendition of "Happy Birthday"

They couldn't wait to dig forks into that cake!

Then we moved on to the presentation of the gifts...

And then it was time for a puppet show...

Max spent the majority of the show popping out front to be center stage.

Alex wasn't too sure what to make of it but after each show would take a bow and say 'Tank uoo, Tank uoo" right along with Sophia.

And we ended the night with a little dancing including this baby conga line.

It was a great birthday weekend. Thanks for spending it with us Mom!

Lazy Sunday Afternoons: A Timeline

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Medical Degree Optional

Today's doctor visit ended with us not knowing what our boys have been vaccinated against. 


How the hell is that even possible you ask? 


Welcome to our small town where competence, courtesy, and ability are not prerequisites for practicing medicine.


The  trouble began with the nurse, who brought in a tray of 12 different vaccines, and wasn't quite sure what previous vaccines the boys had or what they needed. Due to this lack of information, her defacto plan was to administer them all. 


Awesome.


Being the kind of mother that brings her own CDC documentation to every appointment, I whipped out the vaccine schedule and showed her where the boys were in the series but seeing the schedule only seemed to confuse her more. 


We went back and forth for a little bit in an attempt to clear things up. 


Me: They need their first dose of the MMR and the second dose of Prevnar.
Nurse: Okay so Varicella second dose, first MMR.
Me: No, second Prevnar, first MMR.
Her: Okay got it! 


She then grabbed a needle and plunged 50% of it into Max's thigh. Hard enough to make him scream, but not hard enough for the needle to go in all the way. The vaccine fluid began dripping all over his leg but based on how much was on his leg none was entering his body. Perplexed by her own ineptitude at administering shots the nurse grabbed another couple vaccines off the tray and gave those a whirl.


Me: So, you did the Prevnar and the MMR right?
Nurse: Huh, what?
Me: Which vaccines did you just administer?
Nurse: The Varicella and polio.
Me: What?!
Nurse: Aren't those the two he needed?
Me: NO! The MMR and Prevnar
Nurse: Right, those are the two I did. 


With Max still wailing in my arms she grabbed a couple more vaccines off the tray and injected those into Alex.


Why oh why in that moment didn't we just take our babies and run? Why after dealing with her incompetence during a prior office visit didn't we say the hell with being polite and demand another nurse? As someone who is not afraid of confrontation, especially when it comes to my children's well being, how could I have been so compliant? I'm not sure who's to blame, her or me? 

What is clear is that both boys did not receive the MMR. The reason we know this is that she originally only had two MMR vaccines. After the first dripped all over Max's leg she didn't go out and get another. She just grabbed whatever else was on the tray and went on. When I  handed her the boys vaccine records to fill out and she turned to me and asked "Which ones did I just do?". And again when she handed them back she asked "Does that look right to you?" 


Oh my word.


After the vaccinations were done, we requested to speak with the doctor. When he finally came back we told him about our concerns at which point he called the nurse into the room to ask just how much of the vaccine leaked out. "Oh, not very much" she replied (What did he expect her to say? "You're right! I totally screwed that one up!") and that was that. 


At this point we have no choice but to reschedule the series of shots again with a different doctor just to be sure they actually get the right vaccines and sadly, although the visit was a complete waste, our insurance company will still dish out hundreds of dollars per child to compensate the doctor and his barely functional staff.  


And so it goes.

Hoping not to eat these words later...

In an attempt to balance the scales a little I'm writing today in defense of four year olds. (Yes, this is the part I will likely regret in a matter of days if not hours.)  I'm aware that the last few posts have been, ahem, a bit skewed to negative side of parenting. Which is not completely unexpected when sixty percent of our household citizenry is made up of four and two years old. After trudging through several harrowing weeks of outright defiance and very uncivil disobedience, things for the moment have settled into an acceptable tension between discipline and independence.


One of the things we've been working on in an attempt to decrease the intensity and frequency of tantrums has been to help the kids identify what emotion they're feeling i.e. Wow, you must be boiling mad right now! and so on. I know it's sounds completely hokey but giving them, specifically Sophia, the words to pinpoint what they're feeling and later a number of acceptable actions to deal with those emotions seems to be helping limit the severity of the tantrums. Over several days of working on this I began to take note of the wide range of emotions and experiences kids this age pass through in very short time.


Imagine if over the course of the day you experienced frustration, jubilation, sorrow, anger, love, hate, jealousy, envy, pride, fear, excitement, guilt, success, failure, oppression, independence, and on and on. Besides being confused about what to do with all these strong feelings there are external pressures telling you to "act nice","stop whining",  or "settle down" and unclear expectations about how to handle all the new emotions and experiences you're just beginning to grasp.


Imagine further a day in which the majority of what happens to you is dictated by someone else, everything from when you eat, to how much time you can spend on a particular activity, to how loud you are allowed to talk. You're told to sleep when you're not tired. You're told a tag is not itchy when you can clearly feel it rubbing against your skin.  You're told to "have fun" and that "everything will be okay" when left alone in a new place but despite assurances you are still terrified. You're forced to give up what seems like your most beloved possession(at the moment) in the name of "sharing". You're told to wait or are given the answer "later" but because you don't yet a have concrete concept of time every wait has no predictable end.


Extrapolate even further a life in which you're still trying to decipher what things to be concerned about vs. when you are safe. You hear about the devastation created by something you've never heard of like an earthquake but later wonder why your mother can say with certainty that evil monsters don't exist. You've told to treat others like you want to be treated but then are warned that because some strangers are bad to avoid unknown people all together. You're warned against the absolute dangers of burning yourself on the stove, not crossing the street alone, always wearing your seat belt but then the first time you do something you've been told is dangerous and nothing happens you wonder whether all the other things you've been warned are really that bad at all.


Being four is hard. Parenting a four year old is hard.


Does it mean that because I have better perspective of where Sophia is coming from that I'll feel sorry for her and let some things slide? Of course not.


But it will hopefully mean that when she's pulling out the heavy artillery I'll be able to see her for the four year old she is and act with a little more understanding and grace. And with any luck all the love, discipline, time, effort, prayers and determination I've poured into her will result in an adult that doesn't need a hard life to be her ultimate teacher.