...you are woken up by a text at 5:45 a.m. asking if school's delayed. Sometimes it's nice to be the school's messenger. Sometimes it's not. You immediately start. "Please let it be clear," runs through your mind.
You drive four children to school in precarious weather. "Let it be clear," you think.
You catch your breath in the copy room. You haven't thought about it for at least an hour, caught up in your daily grind. "Let it be clear," you think.
You worry when school is dismissed early because the last two times, you've been at school when you got the news. "Let it be clear," you think.
You drive home, saying, "Let it be clear," under your breath every few minutes. Superstitious that if you don't say it enough, it won't be clear. You know the reality. You know you could say, "Let it be clear," 8,000 times and that it's not in your hands. You know you could pray to God, Allah, Buddha, but it's not in their hands either. It's on a sheet of paper in a file folder in a doctor's office.
You snuggle with a sleepy girl on the couch for an hour with your phone sitting an inch away. You grow hotter with each minute that goes by the 1:40 p.m. appointment time. "Let it be clear," you say again.
...and then it's clear.
...and then you go celebrate. And build a teeny tiny snowman.
...a few months ago, my dad and I decided to surprise my mom with a trip for Thanksgiving. I knew it couldn't be a complete surprise, especially when she started asking me in August where we were going to get our turkey from (we don't cook Thanksgiving, we buy it).
I did some research and we settled on Kiawah Island, South Carolina. We rented a three-bedroom villa on the beach, hoping the weather would be nice enough for a few beach days and maybe a dip in the heated pool.
I don't have much to say about the first day other than it involved: lost power at the Baltimore airport; sitting on the tarmac for an hour before they figured out they could use humans to push the plane back; a mad dash through the Charlotte airport with two small children ("You can run faster, Charlie!); a scene at the gate that looked like something from the show Airport when they told me we had missed our connector; no luggage when we finally arrived in Charleston; and for the grand finale, Clara and I both stepped in dog poop on our way to dinner. And did I mention we didn't have our luggage or extra shoes?
Every time the plane landed, she only had one word, which she repeated, over and over. "Wow. Wow. Wowowowowowow."
Ken wasn't sure what his work schedule was going to be like so he ended up getting a non-stop flight and arrived what felt like eight days ahead of us and with a bag of clothing. We punished him by making him share his clothes with all of us for the first 24 hours and having him act as our driver for the next four days while we sat in the back and took selfies.
My visions of beach days and dips in the heated pool were quickly dashed with rainy, 50 degree weather. Let it be known, when you are nominating me for Mother of the Year, that I did, in fact, place myself in a heated pool (with 45 degree air above it) for the sake of my children. We all lasted five minutes and miraculously walked away without pneumonia.
We drove into Charleston one day and took a carriage ride tour of the city (great way to see a lot of stuff in just a small amount of time).
Charlie is clearly going to do great in American History some day.
There was a lot of relaxing. A lot of napping.
I loved the beaches there. So different from our Delaware beach with its quick drop-off into the ocean. It seemed like in Kiawah you could wade in...forever. I'd love to go back when it's warmer.
Everyone says it moves so fast, but when you are living the day-to-day of two young children, it's hard to realize that. So glad we take a moment each year to capture where we are as a family.
...Friday night at about 11 p.m., I decided to surprise Clara with tickets to the 11 a.m. Saturday show of Crozen on Ice. If you aren't Clara, you probably call it Frozen on Ice.
We got there at 10:00 a.m. and found out our tickets were for the, uh, 2:30 p.m. show.
It actually worked in our favor because once Clara saw all the other girls at the arena in their Elsa dresses...
Well, she had to have one.
So we went to Target, the mall, lunch. And then back for the 2:30 p.m. show.
...and our $25 commemorative photo.
Beautiful girl.
She couldn't wait.
She was amazed.
And then there was me. The former competitive figure skater. Thinking the whole time, "I could've done this." (Especially when Prince Hans fell on his double axle), and then taking a moment to enjoy my $13 cotton candy.
And then it was over and Clara said, "I want to see that again. Right now. Right now. RIGHT NOW!"
We'll always have the memories. And the $25 commemorative picture.
...we take one last beach trip every september or october.
This weekend was a little cold and a little rainy. But we still found time for the bookstore.
...and a walk to the beach
...some sand between our (cold) toes
...a family picture (figures, the one where I'm telling Charlie to put his tongue BACK in his mouth is the one where he is actually looking and smiling)
...and some long naps
...you rose early, as you always do at the beach. You had a pretty rotten cold and as daddy was walking out the door to get your birthday donut, you yelled in your scratchiest eighty-year-old voice, "Don't forget my coooofffffeeeee." (It's hot chocolate but we don't tell you that).
...we spent the morning at the Salisbury Zoo. It was small, uncrowded, and manageable. Perfect.
...Charlie continued his study of zoo maps.
...After Charlie's fifth birthday extravaganza, I swore I would never have a birthday at our house. Again. So, for Clara's party we hosted a small group at our town's Arts Council for a Hello Kitty Dance Party. The children (and a lot of the moms) did zumbini for 45 minutes, the kids ate pizza and cupcakes, and an hour and forty-five minutes later, it was over. Perfect.
Happy Birthday, sweetest girl.
...having a date night here
...enjoying my new nail polish from Carron. (Don't worry, stopped at a stop sign on a country road. Even if it looks like I was in the middle of the road)
...Eating Rita's on a cold night
...taking pictures at Target for our Christmas list. (Only five months, people!)
...Happily playing with our friends at the park
...reading to each other...playing...fighting...repeat...
...going to birthday parties
...eating ice cream in the middle of the day after our pre-tubes appointment
...a trip to the beach
...going to the park at the beach
...and the fountains at the beach
...and the pool at the beach
...spelling our name using everything and anything
...time at the boardwalk
...learning to order sushi
...being thankful that at least one of us has good hair in this weather
...and lastly, rolling with my homies
...Will be back more. Trying to make a plan for ye ol' blog. xo
...clara and mommy will play.
Charlie is spending the week at Ammy and Poppy's. (And let me tell you, we could all use a week at Ammy and Poppy's...trips to the beach...pizza...ice cream...the Lego Movie delivered to your bedside at 6 a.m. the morning it came out).
Clara and I don't get a lot of one-on-one time. And dear lord, is one child so much easier than two. It's like a vacation all on its own.
We started our day by sending mail to our favorite camper.
After a latte, we were back to our traditional hiding-from-the-ENT-ness.
Then it was on to Trader Joe's. Ahhh, one child, no fighting over who gets to push the miniature shopping cart (or calf weapon, in my children's case).
She purchased Jojos, squeeze fruits, and pasta. That covers all the food groups.
Pit stop for some tomato soup.
Then home for a tea party, shower, pedicure, and some Sophia watching.
Then it was Clara's turn. She grabbed one of our old point and shoot cameras and went to town.
She captured an afternoon FaceTime session with Charlie.
Gracie's crazy eyes.
...and mommy and daddy.
Then there was a little catalog-shopping for her big-girl bed.
Wrapped up the night with some fajita-eating and then off to bed.
She is delightfully chaotic; a beautiful mess. Loving her is a splendid adventure. - Steve Maraboli