Going out in the snow

Our conversation this morning:

Let's see.... Got your hat? Mittens? No...where's the other mitten?Put your sweater on, please. 

How about snow pants? NO, SNOW pants, the ones on the hook over there. Yes, they're dry. Of course, they are dry. Just put them on. Seriously, do you want to go out or not? Put the pants on. 

Where are your jeans?  Why did you take them off? Take the snow pants off and put the jeans back on. Yes, and your tights. Now the jeans. And NOW the snow pants-yes!  Here's your hat.

Where is your sister? She's doing WHAT?!? Hold on, I'll be right back. Go find your coat and scarf....

Okay, I'm back. WHY ARE YOU NAKED???

Needless to say, we're watching movies this afternoon. 

Good Morning!

Eleanor has decided that it is her job in the morning to see if Jordan is awake.

She quietly walks over to the Jordan's room, carefully opens the door, quietly walks up the bed and pulls all the covers off.  Amazingly, Jordan has been awake every time Eleanor goes in to check on her. 

Guess what was in the advent calendar this morning?

Our conversation in the car this morning

Grace: Mommy. Mommy. Mommy!

Me: Yes?

Grace: God and Jesus are in my heart.

Me: Yes, yes they are. 

Grace: And Jesus is going to have his birthday. On Christmas!

Me: Really?

Grace: Yeah. And you know my favorite part of the God story? 

Me: No sweetie, what?

Grace:  Mary. Mary's my favorite part.  Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow! 

Cause there was a lamb in the manger, right? 

Can you feel the love?

Every morning, you guys get up and ask for gummi bears.  Years from now, when you read this and run your tongue over any fillings,  I give you full permission to call and yell at me about giving you kids sugary snacks that stick to your teeth.  Yes, I've heard the warnings and read the articles that the snack industry is trying to disprove (goldfish crackers are bad for you???) but I have a very good reason. 

Because every morning you girls get up individually or in a pack and come down to ask for your gummi vitamins. In the quiet of the morning, you descend like a delicate herd of elephants to kiss me good morning and remind me to give you your vitamins. I usually wait until all of you have come down so that every one gets theirs and no one filches the remaining piles of gummis on the counter- this morning was no exception. 

Eleanor woke up at 5:30 this morning and conned your father into thinking that she was going to drift back to sleep if he let her get into bed with me and snuggle. Ha. Fat chance.  Then Grace came down around 6:30 to watch the news with us. My response to your several requests for vitamins was to remind you that we would have vitamins when Jordan was awake and came downstairs. 

Twenty minutes later I could feel the bond of sisterhood when Jordan came round the corner in her footie pajamas and Grace and Eleanor started with their joyful morning greetings of "Good morning Jordan! You're awake! You're awake! That means we get our gummi bears!" 

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Christmas traditions

When Grace was born, we were still living in Israel and brought her over to the party at the Ambassador's house to meet Santa Clause. She was less than impressed.  In 2006, we had just had Eleanor, so we decided against a trek out to the malls or parties to look for Santa.  While I was pregnant with Jordan we went down to the mall and visited a Santa in the mill of the shopping chaos. While Grace understood that the big guy was going to give her a candy cane if she let us take her picture, the torched was passed to Eleanor to shriek in horror at Santa. 

Last year, I took you and your sisters over to Beth's house and we were visited by Santa.  Your dad was in Iraq so I had all three of you lovelies on my own.  You were very well behaved and I had lots of extra helping hands, but it was still a bit stressful for me.  Despite being raised all over the place, I've got that good New England guilt in me that makes me want you to be perfectly behaved in social settings so as not to detract from the experience for others. 

Before you take this straight to your therapists, I know this is impossible.  And unrealistic. But I have every faith that you girls can behave yourselves.  Even when super duper excited.  Even when in a group of other kids. Even while wearing twirly skirts.  Just maybe not on a sugar high. 

So last year it was three against one and I was exhausted by the end of

 the evening. This year your dad moved heaven and earth to make it to this party (and if I didn't apologize to him a thousand times in person, here it is in writing. I'm sorry about my cruddy attitude. You made sure you worked that schedule, you were brilliantly Machiavellian and worked that group to have them leave earlier on Friday and come in on Saturday and you made it to the party. I should have had more faith. ) and were two on three.  I got to sit down and talk to other people. I got to watch your girls run amuck and I love watching you meet Santa again. 

And Jordan upheld the family name. 

Mommy is....

Mommy is ticked. No, scratch that. Mommy is frustrated. And angry. And perturbed. Not at your father, but at a situation that has been caused by your father's job. 

My off again, on again, off again and resulting disdainful relationship with the Marine Corps will probably not be a secret by the time you guys are older. I respect your father and most of the people that I meet who are Marines. I can appreciate the core values of the Corps and the excellent leaders they develop and the difficult missions they accomplish.  What I don't appreciate is the way they screw with my life. 

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not going to bite the hands that feed us. Sure, I pointed out a few idiotic things that the USMC does with the National Military Family Association (your mom is such an anonymous rebel) but your father loves his job and I'm going to support him. And I do mean LOVES his job. That is rare in this world.  And while the Marine Corps has it's negative quirks that are unique to it, I am fully aware that employment elsewhere or self employment would also hold different challenges. 

That being said.....

Mommy is frustrated. Six weeks ago Miss Beth and I started planning an evening with Santa at her house.  We did it last year and got to skip the traffic at the mall, the waiting in line and the rush, rush, rush.  Foolish me, I was lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that I checked every one's schedule, put it on the home calendar, called in and put in on your Dad's schedule and have been talking about it every week since.   Unfortunately, the almighty Marine Corps has called on your dad to be part of board for two weeks and is now coming home around seven, seven thirty every night. Not only do we have a naked Christmas tree because I'm loathe to decorate it without him (again) but he hardly gets to see you girls. This also means he is going to miss the party. 

He's promised that he is going to try and get everyone motivated to leave at five on Friday but that is no guarantee. All it takes is one guy to want to push through and work and your dad is stuck. I understand. Really I do. But that doesn't change the fact that Mommy is ticked. Or angry.  And frustrated.  How many more years until he retires?

Christmas Pajamas

 Every year, Aunt Michelle sends you guys the best Christmas pajamas. Joy! 

Time flies

You amaze me.  I had to do a double take today when we pulled back your hair with a headband. When did you get so big?  I know it sounds ridiculous and cheesy, but I cannot believe how quickly you three are growing up.  Eleanor turns three in less than a month and Jordan will be two in January.  Two years old is not a baby.  What happened to my baby?  When did this happen?  

I can remember bringing Grace home from the hospital. How tiny she was and fit in the crook of my arm.  Now she's such a big girl who feeds Emily every night,  puts away the silverware from the dishwasher and helps with folding all my folded napkins.  Eleanor was so tiny and now she is a bundle of energy who never sits still unless she's fallen asleep.  And Jordan.  She's my baby. I don't care what you people say. 

Monday, Monday

I just got back from returning dvds to the store.  The whole house is quiet, your dad has you three up in the bath.  Emily and the smell of roasted garlic and chicken met me at the door.  Yum.

We had a good day today. I cleaned out the office while you guys ran around on your bikes in the garage. You helped me relocate all the sewing room/crafting supplies downstairs and played around with the blocks and the doll house while I tried to make sense of the chaos I've created down there. I gave up the shifting around of stacks and re piling the piles after about twenty minutes and we came up to make lunch for our friends Beth, Sophie and Ben who came to visit.  After that, it was a bit of clean up in the kitchen and throwing the chickens in the oven while Miss Beth took all of you in the back yard to keep you from getting salmonella poisioning from hugging me. 

Not an exciting day, but fun. A productive day with little pieces of art, little naps and a very, very spicy squash soup with chipotle peppers for dinner. Yes, your dad asked for chicken on his soup.  

And Jordan dressed herself today.  I think the preschool mornings are going to be challenging. 

Baby Gates

We had a huge milestone in our house today. We took down the very last baby gate in our house. Jordan has been going up and the down the stairs like a champ and I am a little less paranoid about Grace and Eleanor missing the door for the bathroom and accidentally falling down the stairs in the middle of the night. The cheap Ikea gates were removed months ago, their metal rod that we had to step across not missed as we tried to go into the basement or up to our room.

So we finally removed the swinging gate upstairs. Of course, by "we" I mean Eleanor and Grace and by "removed" I mean hung on and swung so forcibly that it was ripped out of the wall.

Show up

I've been thinking about writing to you lately. Lots of snippets and little blurbs being composed in my head but never seeming to make it to pen and paper or the keyboard.  My one bit of advice for the day?  Show up.  Just show up.  Make the effort, take the time, MAKE the time and show up.  People remember.

Speaking of showing up, your Uncle John came to visit us yesterday.  There was a Virginia Tech game on Saturday and your Uncle drove down from Rhode Island Friday evening. Eleanor has been straining the limits of sleep deprivation lately (hers and mine) and decided to take a quickie nap in the middle of the afternoon which allowed her to stay up until ten thirty that evening when Uncle John arrived.  Am trying to be impressed with her energy and resourcefulness of coming up with so many different reasons to stay awake and leave her bed, but by nine I'm usually ready to go to bed myself. 

Your dad came home from his trip to San Diego late Friday night, early Saturday morning so that we could have pancakes for breakfast.  Uncle John stayed until after the first batch was served and then headed off to his game with lots of hugs and sugar from you girls.  All except Jordan, of course. Not even a smile.  You should have seen her face when Jordan saw Uncle John at the counter between her and me.  Not happy. Not happy at all. 

Sunday morning Uncle John was back and we decided to skip church this week in favor of spending time actually being able to talk with him before he got on the road to head north.  Clothes on, shoes on, diapers and snacks packed- off we go to the Marine Corps Museum to fulfill the promise we made to Eleanor when we went to the playground and didn't take her into the museum to see the guy with blood. Okay, you are kids. I can see the allure of going in to see the planes and helicopters and the guy lying there with blood on his leg. But when you are so excited, do you have to be so very, very LOUD about it?  I swear, every time we go into the museum, I'm sure I can see the docents cringing and every other visitor turning around to stare.  Yes, I'll get over this. Probably around the time you guys turn into teenagers and think that everyone is staring at you. 

The high point of the day was when we finally found your dad's brick.  Three years ago I bought your father a brick that would be laid along the pathway of the Marine Corps Museums pathway up to the chapel.  It's laid at the very top of the path between Galawa and Guadacanal, right where the pretty chapel rock hard scaping splits the path.  We've never seen it- usually too distracted with going into the playground to hike up the hill and try to convince you not to play on the oh so lush looking grass.  Luckily, Uncle John was with us and helped us take a picture! 

We can wear this to church!

We went to the store today to get you new Mary Janes.  I know, I know. A bit unoriginal, but for the next few years your fashion footwear will suffer while I try to keep it simple enough to pass down to your sisters.   

So off we went to Potomac Mills Mall, the huge uber shopping center that draws in bargain shoppers up and down the east coast.  Normally, we try to avoid the place but since there is a Stride Rite outlet up there we decided to give it a try.  We parked near the end and went into the Nordstroms outlet- right where the men's section meets the dress section.  Grace was helping me try to find a dress for this year's Marine Corps Ball and kept saying, "You could wear this to church, Mom. Ooooh, this one is pretty- you could wear this to church!" 

I found a lovely dress- the fabric and the cut were beautiful. Unfortunately, it hung off parts of me where it should have clung and it clung to parts of me that should never be accented.  I came out of the dressing rooms to see your brave father standing by the accessories department with Grace and Eleanor admiring the surrounding scarves, belts, assorted bling and lots of ladies smiling at them indulgently.  Your dad explained to me later that Grace and Eleanor had entertained themselves by walking through the various skimpy lingerie nearby, holding it up and taking turns saying, "This is so bee you tiful, You could wear this to church." 

That's what success looks like

I've been tormenting everyone with the idea that I would make bean cookies for them this last month. But just the thought of pulling out the food processor while the girls are around makes my stomach queasy. I know it's irrational, I know about the safety precautions in place, I know that the chances of those little people getting their hands or fingers into small places is slim to none.  But have you seen how slim their little hands and fingers are? And that feed tube is not that much larger. 

Irrational, I know, but let's face facts- those kids are smarter, craftier and can get around, under or over me any day of the week. I may believe I've thought of all the angles, but they'll find a new one. 

The girls helped me put together the wet and dry ingredients and were enthusiastic about putting in the miniature chocolate chips. (I was surprised that almost all of the chips made it into the bowl.)  Supposedly, you can add nuts, raisins, etc but I think the girls liked the chocolate.  After the first batch came out of the oven, we had a dance party for about five minutes while they cooled.  My only regret was not getting a picture of Jordan laughing, laughing, laughing while being twirled. But since it would have meant me stopping the spinning of Jordan, I didn't think it was worth it. 

The girls ate their first cookies on the new stools up at the counter and I sat with Todd at the table.  His damning faint praise while he looked up the nutritional information about beans was not overly encouraging, but after he reached for the second cookie I figured we were okay.  The girls decided to show their approval by trying to eat as many cookies as they could before I noticed. When I started to gripe about them eating too many, Todd responded with , "that's what success looks like." 

Good point. 

Bean Cookies

Preheat oven to 350° F.

2 cups oats (quick or old-fashioned, not instant)
1 cup all-purpose flour, or half all-purpose, half whole wheat
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. cinnamon (optional)
1/4 tsp. salt
1 – 19 oz. (540 mL) can white kidney or navy beans, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup butter or non-hydrogenated margarine, softened
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup chocolate chips, the darker the better
1/2 cup raisins, dried cranberries, chopped dried apricots, or a combination of dried fruits
1/4-1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
2 Tbsp. ground flaxseed

Place the oats in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until it resembles coarse flour. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and salt and process until combined. Transfer to a large bowl.  Put the beans into the food processor and pulse along with the butter, brown sugar, egg and vanilla until smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Pour the bean mixture into the oat mixture and stir by hand until almost combined; add the chocolate chips, raisins, nuts and flaxseed and stir just until blended.  Drop large spoonfuls of dough onto a cookie sheet that has been sprayed with non-stick spray, and flatten each one a little with your hand. (I find this works best if I dampen my hands first.) Bake for 14-16 minutes, until pale golden around the edges but still soft in the middle. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Makes 2 dozen cookies.  Per cookie: 138 calories, 3.5 g total fat (1.4 g saturated fat, 1 g monounsaturated fat, 0.8 g polyunsaturated fat), 3.4 g protein, 23 g carbohydrate, 14.2 mg cholesterol, 2 g fiber. 22% calories from fat.

Starting School

We're gearing up for school. Actually, I'm gearing up for school and you three are all going about your daily business.  Is it so wrong for me to be thrilled that you big girls will be spending your days in a safe environment, learning new things with new friends? That I get to finally see that excitement in your eyes when I come to pick you up at the end of the day and you're happy to see me rather than the "oh. It's you again." that I seem to be getting lately?   Of course, the fact that you will be in school three days a week, with a full seven and  a half hours for Jordan and I run amuck by ourselves holds its own appeal. 

Your dad has applied for a new job overseas.  I was excited at first, the whole "off-on-a-new-adventure" excitement, but the day to day realities are encroaching as I research the area and look up some of the blogs that I am finding in the region.  I know that Grace will be attending Kindergarten and first grade there and Eleanor and Jordan will be in Preschool and possibly in the Kindergarten.  Todd assures me that the schools are first rate, but there will be no bus for Kindergartners without a big-kid full time escort and a really, really close look at the security of all the schools.   I know, I know, I know that I'm just being paranoid, but I am trying to look at this from all the angles. 

The job is not a sure thing. And even after it becomes his next billet, that is subject to change if he gets promoted to Colonel next year.  I love the idea of knowing where we'll be going in Summer 2011, but I know that your father takes a LOT of pride in what he does and the level of excellency and proficiency with which the job is done.  Not being promoting would bruise the pride a bit.  So do I hope he gets promoted and we try a different new adventure or hope for the sure thing? 

Pearls and bits

I know that I've mentioned that website where the woman is giving all this "Prudent Advice" for her daughter when she grows up.  Well, it's been two months since I sent her my pearls of wisdom and they have yet to show up. So in case they never make it on to the master list that I am sure to one day plagarize here, let me tell you one of those sage bits advice. 

Kill your enemies or leave them alone. Screwing with them just pisses them off. 

And yes, I probably would have put another word at the beginning of that second sentence, but your dad will one day edit this anyway and I thought I would save him a bit of red ink.  There are going to be people who you don't like. People who don't like you. Or worse, people who are just assholes (sorry Todd, that one stays) and like to mess around with people for fun.   The best thing for you is to cut them a wide berth and say a prayer for peace. Peace for you, peace for them, peace for whatever sick, twisted thing that happened in their lives that made them the way they are.

If that doesn't work and they're still persuing you, go talk to your father the master strategist and work through a plan. Think out your actions, your methods, the repercussions and consequences. Think it through.  And then decide if it's actually worth it. Think about how much time and effort you're about to expend on someone you don't even like and decide if it's worth it.  Maybe you can just walk away.  

Of course,  I'm working on the assumption that you will stay within the letter of the law. Just remember what Aunt Joyce used to tell Cousin Laura- "You'd better be committed to your cause, because we don't have enough money for bail."   That and "the best defense is a pair of shoes you can run in".  Wise woman, Aunt Joyce...

I'm thinking I'm thinking...

I've been trying to get to the computer this week, but we've had long days filled with no planned activities.  That means that I get to be on my toes and try to think of fun things to do on the fly. "Let's sweep the floor!" and "Let's fold laundry!" don't seem to be winners with you guys.  The more traditional block building and chasing each other are always a favorite, but boredom settles in after fifteen to twenty minutes and you three come looking to me for a new direction.  Bicycles? Play in the kiddie pool? Weed the garden?  Two out of three ain't bad. 

We went to the beach today

Cousin Megan and the girls

John, Aunt Cindy and Granne

We are so IN

Years from now when you all are sitting around and regaling your poor mother with all the stuff that you've gotten away with over the years, I'm going to be thrilled with the fact that I made friends with the cop on the island.  For now,  Raya is just a fantastic sprite who has incredible parents that she shares but later on in life I can see those law enforcement contacts coming in handy. 

Last year, Grace got to be the lucky kid who rode in the firetruck. Brian was kind enough to offer up the seat again and Grace, Todd and Ellery were going to go. Raya offered up the seat in the back of the cop car with her folks (we really, really need to remember to bring cool candy with us next year to throw out at the "crowds") so Eleanor and I went with Jen, Glenn and Raya in the Oh-so-cool Lead Vehicle for the parade. 

Yes, that had to be capitalized. It was that cool. 

The parade starts at the street up from the dock, passes the Canarios house, does a circle of Warner Ave and then comes across the front of the island to the fire house.  Lots of horns honking, water balloons, kids clapping- your typical small town parade.  I LOVED it.  Mock me if you must, but I had the best time. 

Right after the parade started, we pulled into Warner Ave. At the end of the street is a lovely older woman named Evelyn who had not made it out to the street yet.  When we pulled up and Glenn asked where she was, her family told him that she was just coming out. This was no easy feat. Ms. Evelyn and her walker were escorted out to the car, then put in the backseat ge e-e ntly and finally driven up the twenty yard long driveway where she was then escorted with her walker to the chair waiting for her.  

We waited.  Patiently.  Sure there were  a few tooting horns for fun trying to play "Shave and a haircut" but the whole parade stopped. And waited for Ms. Evelyn so that Raya could wish her a happy fourth of July on the loudspeaker. This is why I love Prudence.  

Your Dad was in charge of getting a pic of Grace in the firetruck again, so we'll see if he came through.  

The rest of the day was spent on lunch with the Lunds, naps and then dinner with the whole family. Pulled pork and lemon bars. Is there anything more American?   The afternoon rounded out with a moon bounce over at Eddie's house with Cousins Riley and Ella.  

I was really proud of you today!  Happy Fourth! 

Socializing

It's 9:53 and some idiot is still shooting off fireworks down the hill. Probably some of the snooty people over at Bristol Colony who have had one too many and don't have kids under the age of four.  Dorks.

Grace is fast asleep on the top bunk, Jordan is cuddling her butterfly blanket in the crib and Eleanor....sweet Energizer Eleanor is still going.  She's scared by the noises and just wants to see what we're up to- Granne and Grandbob reading their books, Uncle John trying to get the photos off the disc from the Nikon and me over here on the laptop. 

We really are an anti-social family.

You wouldn't have known it from today.  Today was one of the first days in a week that we had some sunshine. The girls have been very patient with us, but there are only so many puddle hunts you can go on with wet boots, so many times you can color on the back deck, so many times you can help wash the dishes before you start to get a little cranky.   Fortunately, there was a break in the clouds and Granne and Uncle John took the girls to the beach while I went with Jen for a work out and Todd took a lap around the island. 

The year is 2009 and we still don't have a dryer. When you're older and reading this to your kids, I put that in so you would understand  a bit of my frustration with this week. To the point that your father and I were thinking of booking us out on the ferry tomorrow night rather than next week.  So it's June/July and the days are cold and dreary. In an attempt to work off any of your energy, we drag you guys off for giggly puddle hunts in slickers and rain boots - until we hear the thunder and lighting. Then we bring you home to change into clean, dry clothes and put the damp ones up on the line inside the porch. 

Now tell me, Science Wizs, how dry do you think your pants are in 95% humidity? And forget about your jeans. Yech.  So I took a load with me this morning so that I could clean the two pair of pants that I had for each of you that I've been rotating for the last week.  Patty, mother of Olivia and Hana, was generous enough to offer us her lovely washer dryer combo while we worked out and brought it back to us this afternoon. All folded. Yes, there was a scramble to make sure that there were no incriminating undies in the pile that should have been thrown out years ago.  (We're good.)

So tonight's dinner (back to the point of the social/anti-social) was supposed to be outside on the picnic table and we used our unfailing optimism to set everything up outside. Fresh fish, rice, pasta with veg, salad, Dad's green beans, leftover cheese fondue from Jen and a nice pound cake from Jen's dad, Ray. Me? I made lemon bars.  Your father took one bite, looked at me and said, "This, this here is the reason I'll never leave you."  

Just keep him away from the Barefoot Contessa and we're good. 

Dinner was a fun, rain-splattered, jumbled run into the house after the raindrops started. Uncle John's friend is a lovely man who has a Mac and has promised to listen to me drone on about my problems in converting from a PC and got stuck in the seat next to the fridge. No escape.  Ray was in front of the water, so he enjoyed his meal along with the side of "may I have another glass of water please?" every five minutes and Eleanor was her usual charming self walking around to every one else's plate and saying, "I wantabite pleeeease."  

All in all, the evening ended with 16 people in the house eating lemon bars before heading out to Bingo at the PIA hall.  Not bad for our anti-social family...

Now if only Eleanor would stop singing the itsy bitsy spider we could all get some sleep.

When Puddles Fight Back

We're going on a Puddle Hunt!

Get em girls!

It's all fun and games until the Puddles fight back.

And then we headed back to the house...carrying our boots because the sides were causing friction on the inside of their little calves. You should have seen them sit down in the middle of the road to dump out the water! 

The lady in the white pants

We went up to Patty and Bruce's house for dinner tonight. I actually thought, "Hmmm, I better bake these biscuits here in case they don't have an oven." 

Oh, they have an oven. And the porch of my dreams- the one that wraps around the house and has more than enough room for a dining room table, chairs and an entire living room suite. 

Patty made an ice cream cake for dinner. When Todd asked Grace where she got it, her answer was, "Go see the lady in the white pants."  like it was some covert deal.  I expected her to follow it up with something like "The code word is cake".

You are in SO much trouble

The three of you are tucked up in bed right now. Eleanor is letting out the occasional high pitched string of notes before your Granne or I tell you to shush. This lasts for about fifteen seconds before there is a foot thump, a bed squeak, a tap-tap and then another peep coming from one of you. 

We came up to Prudence on Friday night. An uneventful trip that found either me or your dad squished beside you in the car, playing a movie or talking to each other to keep the other awake while driving through the night.  We tried to consider every contingency; road work in Maryland, the regular traffic that everyone associates with New York and the parking lot they like to call Connecticut.  We had enough time and snacks to make it all the way up and to the ten o'clock boat in plenty of time with no stress if we left the house around seven or eight at night. 

We got here at four in the morning.  

Luckily, the sip-n-dip is open 24 hours a day and they had a clean toilet for us to use.  We weren't sure of the weekend boat schedule, so we went over to the ferry to check the schedule and take a quick nap in the parking lot. We're classy like that.  When the boat came, we were ready to go- doughnuts and treats for Granne and Grandbob, a walked pup and a gassed up minivan.  All in all, a successful trip with no hiccups.

And then....

While we were on the boat, you three decided you had been well behaved and sitting for long enough. Actually, Jordan was still taking it easy on us, but Grace and Eleanor were up and around in the van.  At one point, Eleanor and Grace were behind the wheel of the van. (Grandparents, take a deep breath. No, we weren't near the edge, the emergency break was on and we had removed the keys.) I mean, what could happen?

What could happen? Grace could find pennies. And she could decide that the tiny slot between the dashboard and the wheel would be a really fun place to slide these coins. Luckily, it didn't affect our ability to maneuver the van off the ferry and we made it all the way up to the house. We unpacked, hugged Granne and Grandbob and then put away all our bags of gear while Grandbob and Granne were forced to love on you little people.  After a tour of the house and the garden, we walked over to see Raya and spent a bit of time with Glenn and Jen before returning to our house AND THE BLARING HORN. 

Turns out those itty bitty coins had slipped down into the steering column and randomly hit the horn. They also blare the horn when we turn left. Fun, fun, fun.  I find this whole thing hilarious right now while I'm not the driver, but there is no way I'm letting your dad off this island without fixing this.  We tried to come home tonight from dinner on the West Side and the horn kept honking while we were following Glenn in the police car. Thank goodness we were behind him, because I'm sure at least a few houses were thinking of calling the police about the idiot making the noise violation at 9:30 at night. 

You father is not amused. 

Preparing for Prudence

Am taking a break from packing and listing to try and save my sanity.  How on earth do you KNOW that today is the day that I need to accomplish all four hundred and twenty seven critical things on my list before I can move on to the kinda-important list?  How do you know that today is the day to grind the raisins into the carpet for maximum schedule interruption? Is it pure instinct that led you to taking out the paints while I went to use the toilet? 

For two minutes. Two minutes, for Pete's sake. HOW DO YOU DO THIS?

Today is one of those days when I remind myself how unselfish and great your father is. How creative and kind. And then I still get cranky about all the crap I'm having to do around this house before we can leave this weekend for Prudence. 

My list for Prudence:

Have car serviced before we hit the road.

Clean out all excess globs of spare popcorns, cheerios and all raisin shrapnel. 

Have windshield repaired from trip to the airport YESTERDAY. (Like I needed another thing on the list...)

Pack up kids clothes- special attention to swim and rain gear.

Kids Medical Kit- poison ivy? Bee stings? Cuts? Scrapes? Splinters? Diaper Rash?  We're covered.

Kids Toys

Kids Art Supplies- all packed up and ready to go

Kids Car toys and snacks- do not forget the water bottles

Electronics- laptop, camera, phone. Trying not to forget any of the chargers, battery chargers or connecting wires. 

Food stuffs. Let's face it, you cannot make Thai food without fish sauce. Not going to happen and it's not something you're going to find at Marcy's.

Clean beds

Put out all the garbage.

Pack up dog food, leash, bed and poop bags. 

Arrange for the neighbor kids to come water my plants and collect the mail for the next two weeks. 

Pack a few clothes for me. 

Your dad's list:

Put space case on the car.

Pack his stuff. 

Yeah, that looks fair. 

Change In Plans

It's Saturday afternoon and we've got a full house. The rain has been steady all morning, but there seems to be a crack in the crowds and the sun is fading in and out.  Because of 

the heat and the humidity, we're hiding inside for a while.  

"I wanna be like you-ou-ou" is coming from tv and Jordan is dancing up a storm. "Give me the secret of fire, man cub" reminds me, fire building is one of the skills that you will have when you grow up.  Your dad is great at the grill, but when it comes to building a real fire in rain or shine, you'll be coming to Mom.  I can remember a time that the neighbors wanted to have a block party when we first got married and moved to Monterey.  The Coast Guard Guy from down the street pulled out his fire pit with three fire starter logs and announced that he had the fire all taken care of.  As he was putting the lighter to the logs I asked him where the rest of the wood was.  "This is it. These things burn for hours." 

It was three o'clock. 

I think your dad handled the delicate nature of the situation (my snorting in laughter might have been a bit of a blow to James's fragile ego) and we roared off in the Jeep to reallocate resources from the neighboring BLM land.  Twenty minutes and a talk with one of the Department of the Interior guards later, we came back with a Jeep full of wood and I started a fire that lasted until midnight. 

The last few days have been rough on us here at Quilt Camp.  Callum started feeling poorly on Thursday night.  He hadn't been eating dinner or drinking much and he started getting sick on his mommy's bed late Thursday, early Friday morning.  Michelle took him to the new emergency room at Stafford hospital where they transferred him in an ambulance down to Mary Washington.  Turns out he's severely dehydrated and had to have IVs overnight.  He seems to be doing better, but this is effecting their return travel plans to California. 

Tomorrow in Father's Day and I know how important it was for them to be home with Mark.  Now it looks as though they'll be staying through the next week. I'm thrilled with the opportunity to spend more time with Michelle, Callum and Katie, but not at Mark's expense.  Although we may actually have the time to finish the border on the daisies...hmmm....

Speaking of expense- the tickets came from using miles and on American Airlines. They have been completely uncooperative in changing the time or date of the tickets. Originally 900 for all three; the tickets will be six hundred dollars a piece to change! Whatever happened to the seventy five or hundred dollars to change a ticket??  I know that it's a sign of the economy, but we've tried explaining that this is a medical emergency and they seem to be void of all cooperation or compassion.  Air tran has tickets for 150 each that can get them home later in the week. Guess what airline we'll be using??

Katie has been spending her last few days with us and is enjoying her time running after Grace and Eleanor's rampages and chasing after Emily's tail. Jordan is thrilled with chasing after Katie. 

More later- your dad is back from the Home Improvement store and we're about to hang the mirror in the bathroom after you guys go down for naps.  Big hugs,  Mom.

Excuses, excuses

Again, I just need to apologize for not writing, but here are a few things I need to tell you about...I'll follow up in a few days. Promise. But for now, the whole reason I'm slacking with writing to you is because of Michelle. There have been chats, talks, conversations, trips, shopping adventures, food runs, more talking. 

It's all her fault. I was just sittin' there....

So here's what I owe you. Yes, you can count on me stretching this out over days. 

 

Your initial bags. This will make sense when I tell you the whole story. There is a closet full of cheery happiness in our hallway right now. 

Daisies. Your aunt Michelle suckered me. 

You may need to know about food runs. Not the icky kind where you have to go to the doc because you're dehydrated, but running out for a specific craving and/or want. And no, neither myself or Michelle are pregnant right now.  That's not even funny.

The story about you, your sister and the blue water bottle that I decided to just throw out. I was laughing so hard I couldn't even ask you what the heck you two thought you were doing. 

We had a pretty good day today. Nothing eventful, nothing noteworthy. I tried to lock in the picture of the three of you in front of the bookcase playing "tea" and passing the toys around. We tried to talk nicely to each other, we tried to play well with each other and we gave lots and lots of hugs today. I'm putting this one in the win column. 

Job Advice

As long as we're dispensing advice...

Dress for the job you want.  You want to be the boss? Then emulate what they're doing. Can't afford it? Save up and get the knock offs.  If there is ever a choice between the expensive outfit or the expensive shoes, get a basic outfit and go for the shoes. Cheap shoes will almost always be a dead give away and bring down the outfit.  This is one of the few times that I will highly recommend letting loose the cash as shoes do seem to get more comfy the more expensive they are. And no, you can't borrow my Cole Haan's that I'm still wearing from 2004. 

Learn how to give a firm handshake. I'm not talking wrestlmania here, I'm talking a firm steady handshake. For some reason, Southern women have cultivated a limp noodle finger shake and I find this unacceptable. If a man grasps just my fingers, I'm expecting him to have an Austrian or French accent and kiss the back of my palm.  If you need practice with finding the balance between aggressive-bone-crushing and assertive-hire-me-now,  we can work on it. 

We'll probably need to get a boy to get his advice, too. Just warning you in advance. 

Work on your listening. I know this sounds silly since you guys aren't even in Kindergarten, but you come from a long, long line of quick thinking women. Of course these quick thinking women also react quickly and sometimes without all the facts...so this may be an issue. We also talk. A lot. This is genetic but can be overcome with years and years of practice. I'm still practicing. Your father prays I'll get it someday. But for now, I found a great quote I need you to remember:

No one ever listened themselves out of job.

I love you, 

Mom

I'm talkin' here

Sorry I haven't talked in a while.  Michelle is here visiting and if I have the choice between sitting down and hashing out our day together or with the computer....the laptop loses every time. Michelle came on the fourth of June- the day after our Internet connection suffered a crippling blow. So for a long, long six days, we had no chance to hop online.  Not even borrowing a neighbor's network as this new, nifty Mac your dad bought for me has been challenging when it comes to oh-so-gently bending the rules. 

Callum and Katie are here and you've gotten along like a house afire. Sure, there have been the anticipated blow ups about someone touching Callum's trains or Eleanor going ballistic, but that's just to be expected. Grace keeps putting on her general's cap and trying to tell everyone what to do, Jordan hangs back and just cringes every time the herd of big kids come clumping through the room and Katie has the most adorable habit of giggling and squealing, "Mommy!" each time she sees or hears her mum. 

That's what Michelle says, "Mum." Not sure why that's relevant now, but I just felt like telling you.  We've been talking a lot this week about you guys and what we want to tell you...

So my handy, dandy piece of advice for you later on in life- just shush and listen to the story.  I'm finding more and more that conversations are turning into competitions.  NOT with your Aunt Michelle, but other people.  Callum is this brilliant kid who looks up the water spicket to see where the water is coming from and can tell you all the planets at three- he's incredibly bright! And I love hearing about Mark reading these great books to him.  Us? We read a bit, veg a bit, sing a bit and love on you. Not going to get you into Harvard, so if you miss the Ivy League you can trace it back to our lackadaisical approach to your preschool years. 

But I'll talk to another preschool mom about the kids and what's seems like an innocuous question from another parent about your development turns into a "oh yeah? Well MY kid can do this!" that tires me out.  Even chit chats with random people in public have turned into contests about what their kid can do better than my kid.  (And for the record, nobody wears cool shoes like you guys!)  I just smile, congratulate the other person on what an incredible kid/grandkid they have and tell them they must be proud. They don't need to know that you guys color like Picasso and cook up the best pancakes ever. 

So let me back track for a minute. I think what I'm trying to tell you to do is listen. Really listen to the other person and what they're trying to tell you. Don't think of what you're going to say in response, don't think of some one upmanship comment, but just listen to what they're saying.  You don't always have to have a better story, a similar event, or know someone who had the same experience. Give your story teller their due and just shut up and listen.  Your brain can pay attention to the story teller by asking relevant questions and you get the added bonus of having the story teller think you are fascinating.

I'm telling you, this is sage advice. In twenty years, you'll wish you'd read this more than once.

Somebody, Somewhere Lost a Bet

Your father and I are celebrating our ten year anniversary today.  Ten years ago, he and I headed out to the church and said our "I dos" together and then had a slammin' party. And yes, I put that in there so that you can mock me for using slammin'.  

I looked good that day. Your dad looked better...I really, really liked him in glasses before he had the laser surgery.  If I was a bit less lazy, I would go and find my favorite picture from our wedding- you dad is grinning, I'm laughing out loud and you can see my friend Sandi right next to me smiling from ear to ear.  Who knows, maybe I'll find it in a day or two. 

But for right now, I'm enjoying a rare minute sitting by myself.  Notice I didn't say "alone". Jordan is taking her morning nap despite the fact that the kid up the street is mowing the lawn and the Terminex guy is drilling holes in the front porch.  We have termites.  Icky, nasty, eating- our- house termites.    This is unacceptable.  I've put way too much time and energy into this house to let small buggies get a piece of it.  So we're waging war- starting with holes along the front porch and long the sides of the house so that these guys realize we're not going to roll over and take it. 

Ha! Double Ha! Now where's my coffee as I watch these guys work.....?

Your dad took you to the Barber shop with him. All dressed up in the dresses that you are now insisting upon, you put on your Keens and headed off to watch Daddy get his bi-monthly haircut and collect your lollipop before heading over to the park. Me?  I sprayed soap and water on the leftover wallpaper nearest the toilet on the main level and spent an hour straddling the bowl backwards to scrape off the paper and glue. The whole room isn't done yet, but the corner should be ready for me to patch and sand after the wall board dries while we replace the toilet this afternoon.

Yes, this is how I spend my romantic anniversary with Daddy.

Granne and Grandbob are coming down to see us after Grandbob goes for a hearing test. I think my mom purposely spoke in low tones for a week before Dad finally gave up and headed to see the Doc. Wonder if he's going to take them out when he comes down here and hears how loud you really are!

Tonight should be fun- we're going to put a new recipe on the stove for pulled pork, play with you guys for a while and then your father and I are following our anniversary tradition.  We're going to go out to a restaurant  we've never been to before and then see a movie. Or two.  I know it sounds dorky, but with all the running around, weird expectations and stress, this was one thing that your father and I both agreed should be kept pretty simple.  With the exception of the year Grace was born, this is what we've done every year.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

And just so you know- I still think the marrying your dad was the best thing I ever did. The very best choice I ever made.    

My tenth anniversary band

In the morning, your dad is going to kiss me good morning and tell me "Happy Anniversary". And then he is going to pull out the most beautiful ring and give it to me as a prize for our tenth anniversary.  I am going to be so surprised.

When we got engaged, your father gave me the most beautiful engagement ring. I found out later that he'd spent time researching diamonds, diamond cuts, settings, traditions, and the meanings of different metals, settings, cuts et cetera later on and that just made me love the ring more.  The only problem was that when he handed me the box, there was another ring there- a wedding ring that matched the engagement ring.  

It was gorgeous. Also in platinum, it had channel set diamonds and looked beautiful on my hand. But silly me, I had always had the idea that my wedding band would look like a smaller version of my husband's. My mom and dad both wore plain gold rings and I liked that.  Because I wore silver all the time and it was the most "elegant" ( I love, love, love that your father thought I was elegant- he's gotten over that) he picked platinum for our rings.  But unless Todd wanted diamonds in his wedding ring, this flashy little ring wasn't going to work. 

So I suggested that he keep it for our tenth anniversary. After he looked at me funny, I remember telling him that since I was sure we'd be married for much longer than ten years, it was good of him to think ahead.  Show his commitment. Not only did he think of the engagement and the wedding, he was already thinking about the ten year anniversary. I was a lucky girl. 

The ring has been living in my jewelry pile (I should have a jewelry box by the time Jordan is twenty- if I don't, it's a good thought for Christmas girls. Hint, hint. ) for the last eleven years. In the morning, your dad is going to go get it, give me a kiss, tell me "Happy Anniversary!" and give me that ring.  I am going to be so surprised. 

Shorts

I'm a blogger. I blog.  The only problem is that you're my only readers. And you don't read yet. Can we say "irony"?

About two years ago your Uncle John started a blog about himself and the island, but I think he was a bit busy to keep up. I  never found anything new on there, so I stopped looking and I think he stopped writing after a while.  But lately I've been inspired by some of the blogs I've been reading online to work on a few projects and try to complete some of the cluttery piles of "stuff" that I am convinced will become something adorable. Or fantastic. Or chic.  

Or it could just be the bags that I can use for the groceries.  All the online ladies have been chatting about a new book about sewing projects that can help with the problems in our environment- recycling sweaters (done it),  shopping bags (do it and carry them) and the smaller bags that you can use to put your veg in so that the cashiers can weigh all the apples and such without using the thin plastic bags that are NEVER recycled.  So this morning while your dad went to the park with you, Jordan took a nap and I gave half a dozen old tea towels a new purpose.  We'll see if I can use them at the store or if the cashiers are too annoyed that they'll have to look in the bag to see what it is.

I'd put a picture up, but I keep thinking to myself "Twenty years from now, are the girls really going to want to see a picture of the veggie bags?" and my answer is usually "No."  You'll be busy, productive, exciting, thoughtful, crazy women and this will be one of the posts that you'll skip over to get the good stuff where I tell you about childbirth and sex. Not necessarily in that order. 

So today was the usual conversation/negotiation/argument about what you were all going to wear today.  Since there was a plan to go to the park, I wanted shorts. As usual, Grace was the ring leader in getting Eleanor and Jordan to want dresses or skirts. Okay, so J can't talk yet, but you can see it in her eyes.  

Me: How about a pretty shirt and shorts? Then you can climb ladders and slide and you won't have to worry about catching your hem.

Grace: No Mommy, I want a dress. I mean, no thank you Mommy. I prefer a dress. 

Me: Well how about your brand new pink polka dotted shorts?

Grace: No thank you Mommy, I want longs. 

Good Morning

I was wondering where you were this morning. I came down this morning, grabbed the last of the coffee and turned on the news. Unlike last week, the DVR actually worked and we had a picture. And for fifteen minutes this morning, there was quiet. Blissful quiet where I heard every word the pretty-pretty man said about the state of our economy.  

But there was no snuggling, so it wasn't much of a trade-off. 

As much as I appreciate the small moments of tranquility and probably talk way too much about me, me, me and my time, I love the mornings where you come into our room and say, "It's sunny, Mommy! It's sunny!" and then proceed to tell me that you are either climbing into bed with me ("IsnuggleMommy") or that we are going downstairs.  By this time Jordan is awake and well aware that conscious people are making noise and walking around, so we go and get her to come downstairs. 

Like her sisters before her, getting the baby out of the crib in the morning has to be one the best things in life.  The looks you have that seem to say,

• "It's you! It's you! You came to get me!"
  
• "Mommmy!"
  
• "I made something for you" (usually accompanied with a smell)
  
• "Did you hear me? Did you hear me? I threw ALL my toys out there! Aren't you proud?"
  
•  or the absolute worst, "I feel miserable and there's something wrong and you're the Mommy- fix this!!!" 
  

So right now I have a rock star on my lap (Eleanor has on her sunglasses), a baby right next to us, fifteen minutes before we need to leave for school and a list of things I need to remember.  Later on in life you can tease me about the staging board in the office, but for right now it's the only thing that keeps us organized while I remember shoes, hats, sweaters, backpacks, lunch, snacks for preschool and ....oh what am I forgetting??

Good Enough

It's 10:42 and I'm still up. I'm writing this on my brand new laptop...but that's another post.

You, Eleanor, aren't feeling well and have been acting out all day. For some reason or another, you've been cranky, clingy and generally bad tempered. Am hoping that it is nothing more than a cold making the rounds and that I'm not going to seriously regret having said that in a few days...

Tonight is one of those nights that makes me glad I don't work outside the house.  Tonight is one of those nights where I look at your dad sleeping soundly beside me as I noisily type away (this keyboard is LOUD) and he doesn't even flinch as you start crying for the dozenth time. Oh yes, there will be a nap for Mommy tomorrow. 

I was having a conversation with BC about "good enough" on Saturday night. And he was talking about parents who had older kids and were just bone tired and/or just selfish and didn't communicate or spend the time with their kids or on their marriage.  I've been doing a lot of "good enough" lately and I have to say I don't like it. 

Oh, there are times when it comes in handy and times when it's a wonderful excuse, but I really, really want to do something well.  I want to be proud of what I do, to see pride on your faces and your dad's.  I want to know that what I do has value. Not just "good enough".

I can understand why people go back to work early and stay late at their jobs. They're completing a task, they are meeting a finite challenge and accomplishing a goal.  There seems to be so little of that around here with the never ending list of things to do.  I have a white board up on the wall in the kitchen where I keep track of all the things I'm supposed to remember. Call Terminex, make a doctor's appointment for me, take care of paperwork, pick up the grill, drop off the snacks in the morning....the list gets wiped away as the day goes on but I always seem to be able to put three or four more up there during the day.  

BC and I spoke while your dad was in Iraq about trying to do everything and keep all our ducks in a row. Hard to do.  I've tried to simplify and streamline, but even that takes maintenance and time that get eaten up during the day.  There are things that I need to do, things I have to do and things I want to do.  Playing with you girls and keeping you from hurting yourselves or peeing on the floor are in all three of those categories. 

With the creativity and energy from our family, it's easy to get distracted. Especially with three other people who are demanding my time and attention which you deserve. But I want to do better than the lowest standard. I want to feel that satisfaction. Not sure if I'm talking about our family, our marriage, the house, my studies, my quilting, photography, writing or just me in general but I'm working on it. 

I'm working on it. 

Yar

Yar adjective
1. (archaic) Set for action; ready.
2. Characterized by speed and agility.

I hope by now I have shown you the Philadephia Story. You can make fun of my Katherine Hepburn imitation and I'll share my popcorn. 

We're having a party

Hold My Hand

I found this idea for a tissue holder online and told the ladies at Eleanor's school about it. A simple pattern, just a 6x7 that is sandwiched, flipped and then sewn with a slight fold before the final flip. It's actually quite cute in linen. But in muslin, with a kid's handprint, it's the world's best Mom's Day present. They told me they're going to put "Mommy, can you hand me a tissue?" on the card.

Wedgewood

You asked me today about my necklace. 

It's not my usual silver necklace. Not the one with the heart that your father bought for me when I was pregnant with Grace.  Not the star that he bought with the star since the heart was for Grace or even the butterfly for Nora.  

This one is gold and has a pretty blue cameo with a flower on it and it came back to us in an unexpected surprise when your dad got out his cufflinks last month. I thought I had lost it. 

Center of the Universe

M is for Marshmallow

It's Thursday night and your dad and I are downstairs watching television. He's curled up with his head on a pillow and gave me the good spot on the couch.

I've had a tough time today letting Eleanor run around. I wanted to hold your hand and make you walk on the grass and let me hold you as much as possible. My heart skipped a beat whenever you started to go faster on tile or concrete. The look on your face when you lifted up your head on Tuesday has been running through my brain over and over...

Was it the new shoes? Were they too big? Did your backpack knock you off balance? Did the boy behind you push a little too hard? Was there something, anything I could have done that would have prevented all this?

I know it's silly, but these are what I think about when you bite into a marshmallow and make that awful high pitched sound because your teeth hurt. You are all so strong. So brave and resilient that you amaze me every day.

I wrote something today on my Facebook page about your tooth and was answered by half a dozen parents whose little ones lost their front teeth. Naturally or through accidents. Made me cringe. What I loved was the one that said that there does seem to a plan in giving you kids baby teeth....

Putting it all into perspective

Today was not one of our better days. It's Tuesday, grocery shopping day while Eleanor and Grace are in school. Jordan and I get five hours a week together. Five hours to run all the errands that need to be done without my other helpers.

So I was hoping it wasn't serious when Nora took a tumble while we were dropping off Grace in her class. I was wrong.

You'll probably figure it out as you get older- I can take blood, bumps, scratches, stitches, broken bones (although there is NO reason for you to test me on this) but anything to do with thumping teeth makes me nauseous. Sick to the stomach, bile in the throat, nauseous.

We sat for a few minutes while Eleanor cried, I sang to her to calm her down a bit and the teachers braved coming within a few feet of us to hand me a tissue. We headed off to the dentist where I got to sit in the chair with her while Jordan puttered around the foot of the chair and charmed everyone.

I know it sounds simple right now, but the hour seemed to take forever. Her right front tooth is loose and it terrifies me. We're supposed to watch it for a few weeks as it could tighten back up and revisit the dentist in two weeks. She couldn't even munch into a strawberry so I'm not very hopeful.

That's why I'm up this late. I keep replaying the thump in my head and my stomach rolls. The TV is on, bad late night reruns are on and even the brownie and Grand Marnier are not helping to help me sleep. The girls and I went to the commissary, picked up almost everything we needed on our shopping list and then headed home.

That's when Rich called. He's Todd's best friend and was the best man at our wedding. Turns out that the reason he hasn't called is that their kid was diagnosed with a-plastic anemia. Kind of puts a wiggly tooth in perspective.

Tonight's the first night we used the white board in the kitchen to put up our thank you list. If we're all going to be at the table during meals to say Grace, we're going say a prayer to say thank you at the same time. A safe journey for Dad up to Prudence, Sam and his parents and a colleague of Kerry's. We'll see how it works out... Today I'm freaked out by Eleanor's tooth, but am so thankful for our family's good health. I'm going to go knock on wood.

Oh, you're going to hate me for this later.

Great birthday party in hot weather today. We went over to a kid in Grace's class and Nora peed on the slide. Guess she wanted a water slide.

Yes, I give you my full permission to use this in your future therapy sessions.

Tumble tumble

I came in the other night to check on you and found you like this. Usually, we put Eleanor in her bed and Grace in her bed and then the two of you work out whether or not Nora is going to be snuggling for that night. I tried to wake up your dad to come see, but he was sleeping as soundly as the two of you. Besides, no one would believe me without the picture.

Yes, I tucked you both back in bed after I took the picture and turned off the lights.

Easter

Happy Easter!