Fresh Sheets, Wet Feet

I think it's fairly normal to expect a few of your quirks to be passed on to your children. Of course you hope it isn't the inability to send something back to the kitchen despite raw meat and or the presence of bugs or the unrelenting urge to throttle adults who use baby talk in the workplace (or any situation in which they are not addressing babies), but we really have no control. That fact has not deterred me from trying to cultivate my same fresh sheet loving enthusiasm in the girls. I have tried to get them to look forward to the ritual of stripping the beds and satisfaction of drifting off to sleep in a crisp, clean bed.

"Hey! I know, let's go change the sheets on your bed."

Blink. Blink.

"You'll be able to sleep in fresh sheets! Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Blink, sidelong glance at Dad. A silent, "Should we be excited about this?"

"Briar! It's a bath night!"

"Yeah, mama. Briar taking a bath!"

"Yup, and then we'll put fresh sheets on your bed! What do you think?"

Blink. Blink. Grin.

"Yeah, bath!"

Sigh.

It's taken nearly three years, but I finally have someone who shares my delight. After dinner Briar and I changed the sheets on her bed, while Sean and Avery got things set for a bath. Once we were done we made for the bath, I'd be lying if I didn't say that Briar was slightly more excited about the bath than she'd been about the sheets...baby steps. She quickly slithered into the tub and sidled in beside Avery, effectively taking over the coveted spot beneath the rubber duck protected faucet.

The girls splashed and giggled for about 15 minutes before we headed for pjs and stories. I took Avery to her room while Briar took Sean to show off her fresh bed. We'd put on a fitted sheet adorned with faeries in shades of pink and purple. Over that we had arranged a Dora and Boots flat sheet and three pillows bearing the faces of Tinker Bell, Ariel, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and then topped it all of with a fleece princess blanket with Belle, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. After listening to her reverent exclamations about her beautiful bed I carried Avery in to see. Briar was standing in her robe, ringlets still dripping with water.

"Briar, do you love your bed? Are you so happy mom changed the sheets with you?"

Briar looked from me to Sean and then to her bed and back. Avery was crawling around on the bed. Briar looked up at us and cocked her head to the side. SHe smiled the most radiant smile, her blue eyes crackling with delight and mischief.

"So you love it?"

"Yes, I do. I love my bed." She squealed as she flapped her towel at her ankles and smiled again.

"Briar? Briar, are you peeing?" I asked. Sean twisted at the waist and cocked his head as Briar turned those impish blue eyes up at us.

Splatter. Kick. Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. Kick.

As Briar continued her Lord of the Dance urine jig Sean nodded his head and said, "Yup, she is definitely peeing."

A few more frenetic kicks and wet ringlet head shakes and she laughed, throwing her head back with ecstatic toddler abandon. Sean and I stood rapt, Avery was motionless as a dog on point as she watched. And then, in a blur, Briar's wet feet, slick from her puddle of joy, flew up from beneath her and she went down. Fast. Putting all the great comedians that have come before her to shame, Briar planted, legs akimbo, in her post bath pool with a dramatic Thwack- Splat.

She waited a beat. Looked up and gave a great satisfied donkey kick, which was met with applause by her affectionate and awestruck audience.

Jon's animals

A few weeks ago the girls and I tagged along as Sean ran something out to the farm of a client of his in Washington County, Hebron to be exact. Since then Briar has talked in hushed tones about Jon's animals. He has cows, sheep, donkeys, chickens a rooster, a barn cat, and 3 border collies. Last night we had a chance to go out and spend some quality time on the farm. It is the kind of place that makes you want to get dirt under your nails and play until the last bit of day has slipped behind the hills.

Red seems redder

Air smells sweeter.*

Views take your breath away.

Magic abounds.

Dirt gets a second look.

Things are seen eye to eye.

Friendships are forged with gentle dogs like Izzy.

And with cool cats

And inquisitive asses.

And then not so inquisitive asses.


*My helpful husband said: "You realize you said the air smells sweeter over a picture with shit in the foreground." For the record, I was well aware of that,in the right setting, shit smells good, sweet even.

Working Mom

Yesterday afternoon I had an event for work, a little thing called Pie in the Plaza. It was an event I did not conceive, but was appointed to name and market. Sean, ever the dream-come-true-husband, came to my rescue and created a logo for it.

I'd say it was free, but I think we can say I have paid for it through enduring the teasing regarding my advanced age (2 years and nine months older). In any case, the logo worked and we had a pretty decent turn out all things considered - These things being pies from a convenience store, an alley as the location, a torn up street as the back drop, and a 3-5pm time making it a work unfriendly schedule.

Luckily Briar was there. Between Sean dancing with Avery in the Baby Bjorn and Briar devouring a forbidden artificial ingredient loaded confection, I had a pretty great time.

Flirting with time

I sit in the chair by the window, sunlight warming my shoulder, my legs tucked beneath me, while Avery sleeps in my lap. Sean has gone upstairs to get Briar who has been calling out theatrically pronouncing herself ready to get out of bed for a few minutes. I love listening to them.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey Briar. Good morning my big girl."

"I just woked up, Dad. I waked myself up."

"I know. I heard you talking so I came upstairs."

"I was talking when I woke myself up. I'n wearing a kitty nightgown, I'n wearing it, it's mines."

"I see that. I love your kitty nightgown."

"Me too. Hold me Dad."

"Ok."

"Ooh, my pillow. I need mine pillow."

"Ok. Let's get your pillow beautiful girl."

I smile as Sean steps down the hallway, stopping in front of the window to let Briar peek around the gauzy drapes. Avery stirs and I slip my fingertips through the tendrils along her neck, these curls are like meringue, peaking this way and that, little waves of sweetness along a smooth expanse of apricot neckline. I hear the stairs creak, they are whispering.

"Shhh. Mom got Avery down for a nap."

"Ehshhhht, Avery is'a sleepin."

"That's right. Say hi mom."

"Hi Mom. Hi Avery. Shhhtch, she's sleepin'."

They stand at in the doorway at the foot of the stairs. Each time my breath catches. Each morning that he brings Briar down those stairs I hear the voices of so many.

"Enjoy it."

"It's a blur."

"I cannot believe she's 10."

"18."

"20."

"33."

A halo of golden curls frame an ever changing face. Her cheeks less round, her jaw line sharper. Some mornings her eyes bore through me, icy blue with rings of white and charcoal. Her lips. Such lush, red lips. Where did those lips come from?

"Some yip stick on mine yips, mommy?"

Lately she seems to be moving forward at a pace I can't possibly hope to keep up with, yet it's a sort of slow motion. I have managed to keep a feather light grasp on being conscious of the changes. She flit between toddler and teen before my eyes. One moment she's gawky legs and pot belly, the next she is lithe and feminine, a radiant face smudged with dirt and cream cheese. There are days she sidles up alongside me reverently, other times she is barely tolerant of my need for closeness or conversation.

"Mommy can I sit next to you?"

"Sure honey, here you can sit in the crook of my legs."

"Can I sit next to you?"

"Here, want to sit right her on my--"

"Next to you, Mommy. Wants to be next to you not in yours lap."

Our conversations mature nearly by the minute as she registers the little things she needs to do.

"Oh my gosh, I almost got for to have a drink of water."

"Here you go."

"Tank you Dad. I almost forgot to drink it."

Sometimes I worry that I spend too many moments wondering about the girl she is becoming, the woman she might be. I mourn the little girl who is not yet gone, like tears eked out during a movie because it's how you are ought to react. Her movements and her voice lull me into a trance that seems to lead inevitably to losing her to life. First kisses and job interviews. Conferences and far away places.

Tonight we went for a run and ended with a visit to the ducks at the pond. Sean sat with Briar between his legs, Avery and I stood nearby. I was nuzzling her neck and holding her hand as she used her other hand to pat my shoulder between kisses. Sean was whispering in Briar's ear. She cocked her head and reclined a bit, her hand absentmindedly stroked Sean's knee. They were so many dreams and hopes come to life. It was a perfect moment. There was no camera. No tears. There was no rushing or shhing. No forced cuddling or halfhearted coloring. It was simply four people, a family, being together. Briar at 2.5, Avery just shy of a year. It was a moment that I will hold onto forever, a reflection of today for all the days to come.

How I spent my Earth Day

Briar spent the whole day looking like the cat that ate the canary...who wouldn't after a winter cooped up indoors? Ironically she insisted on wearing a down filled vest, like a nor'easter was going to blow through and she mustn't be left unprepared.



And Avery showed me how to look at everything as if seeing it for the first time...she also calls everything "butt" right now.

Butt - bird

Bawt - bath

Baht - bed

Ba-uht, ba-uht, BA-UHT - loosely translated that's "Mom, mom, for the love of god look up and see the plane. It's right there!"



It was perfect, hope yours was too.

Earth Day

Yesterday we raked.



Today, we'll probably rake some more.
It feels incredible to be outside, to watch the girls getting dirty.
And, of course, to introduce them to the age old tradition of listening for the tinny, yet magical music of the ice cream truck
(Mr. Ding-a-Ling he's called here.)
My granola-mama side burst with pride as Briar and Avery responded with blank faces to offers for ice cream and popsicles at a neighborhood party.




Hope you can get outside and enjoy the earth today!

Just when you think-

You've got 'em figured out. Avery is so much more than I ever imagined.



I want to loosen life's encumbrances and just be with her, live her.


I want so much to run away and have her to myself, if for just one day.


I love you, nutter.

Holding Court

She does her love her animals. And an audience. And order.




Is it just me, or is there something about those curls from the back that makes it seem like I am the mother of a 15 year old looking back at photos from a decade ago? I never knew happiness would create such a constant ache.

That Darn Cat

I parked his scratching post out front. Luckily in addition to being incredibly adept at being underfoot, he seems to get the whole Scratch outside or your ass is on the street concept.

I Think I Love You

The other day I was talking about how, through small choices every day, we have the power to completely change the color of a person's day. I really meant it, and though after I wrote it I felt that I might have come off as a bit too sunny, a bit too I've got spirit yes I do, I've got spirit how 'bout you?, since writing it I have experienced it from the other side. I have been aware of the moments when I have decided to do something, however insignificant, and found that I touched someone. A phone call, an answered email, small talk at the bank. I'm telling you, if you slow down enough to pay attention to your interactions with people over the course of a day, you'll find you are able to make a difference, or you might even make that difference without changing a damn thing.

I have had so many good things happen lately that I really felt sheepish the other day when I popped over to In The Trenches of Mommyhood and found that she had singled me out for a Thinking Blogger award. I'll never forget the day she left her first comment.

Hi--love your blog. I'm de-lurking. I have 3 boyz ages 5 and under, and lemme tell ya, not a day goes by that one isn't bit, hit, pinched or bumped by another. Fun times.

She made a difference then, and she has made a difference now. I can't thank her enough, but if I could, I'd give her that night at the podium with the perfect hair and figure. I'd make her the "it girl" and then I'd send her home and she'd share how great the dream is, but that her wild reality with her three boys is the sweetest reward.

Now, it's my turn to single out some people, and as I tend not to do in the real world, but do often in this virtual world, I am going to break some rules. I believe the deal is you nominate five bloggers, indulge me a slight twist.

First, I have someone who has made me think a lot about blogging. She is a voracious reader of my blogs and she comments in person on every single entry, often calling me into her office to reread them or watch a video I posted. Seeing my words through her eyes, hearing what she takes from the pictures of the girls, makes me think. It's for these reasons that I am raising Debbie's name as my first Thinking Blogger. She does not have a blog of her own, but she has serious ownership in this one you are reading today. I know if she did have one it would be witty and warm. She'd be compassionate and would advocate for breast cancer awareness and kindness. We would be a better blogging community for having her, and until she starts one of her own, I pledge to be as compassionate with mine as I can.

My next person is a woman who has wowed me for months and months with the way she chronicles the parenting of her two children. She is inventive, tender and incredibly smart. Add to that a fierce sense of humor and a candor so refreshing you wish you could get rid of the monitor and sit across a table from her and gab. Karen, I am nominating you for this award for your writing on We found baby s in China.

My third person is a woman who writes with a piercing honesty. There is no other way to say this, if you read Karla's blog you are either going to weep or shoot coffee out of your nose. I am still trying to recover from her description of Lululemon Reverse Groove pants (Please Santa, I really need a pair, though I won't explain the way Karla did how good they'll make me feel because that would put me right on the "been a bad girl"list). In all seriousness, she is a fascinating woman who has literally changed the way I value life. Karla at Untangling Knots, I am so honored to be a part of your stories of parenting Nate, restraining Samson and adoring your husband.

This next one is for the person I know she is and the blogger I know that she will be. I suspect that if she weren't my sister our paths might not have crossed, a friendship might not have been forged and that would have been an incredible tragedy. She shares scars on her soul that I recognize on my own. We are as different as night and day and yet, we are so very alike at times, sharing an eerie sense of humor (ok, what I mean more than "eerie" is laughing at inappropriate things), an uncanny connection during Cranium, Pictionary challenges and the like, and a true devotion to trying to accept our differences. Abbie has revamped her blog and has me walking around proud as a peacock. I am proud to introduce you to an incredible mind over at Abbie's place.

My last nomination is for someone who makes me laugh and think. I can't decide if she'll mock this award or be tickled by it, either way it will make a good read. Her writing runs the gamut from hilarious self-deprecating tales to sharp observations on everything from literature to obnoxious children visiting her home and raiding her fridge. She is CCE and her blog is Mad Marriage.

If anyone has already received one of these puppies just consider this an old fashioned "Job well done."

Your Eyes Got White

I dont' quite know how to introduce this little snippet of video other than to say that Briar does everything in life with incredible passion.



And as a general rule I am not particularly fond of padded bras, but understand that while nursing, a little extra protection from inopportune leaks is a very good thing.

Frankly, you bore me.

Blah, blah, blah me.
Blah, blah, blah me.

Avery let me know how dull she found my post. I pledge to stop the Lunesta laced entries. For your sleepy Monday enjoyment:

Ahem, I beg your pardon

I interrupt the usually tender posts offered here at Tumble Dry about life with Briar and Avery to shamelessly redirect your attention to another site.
My slightly fouler language sassier wordsmithing over at The Wink has been nominated by the irresistible Nutmeg for:






You certainly don't have to do this, but if you were feeling so inclined, and you had an extra few minutes, you could head on over to The Wink to vote, or you could click those shiny buttons overhead. I'd also encourage you to visit Nutmeg. She's amazing, and not coincidentally is nominated for the Hotttest Mommy Blogger. I went and voted for her, you could do the same. It's karma points in the bank.

END SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION

Keeping a Straight Face

Sometimes this parenting a toddler thing feels like a big old game of chicken. You have to be consistent, patient & straight faced.

"Hey Briar, do you need to poop?"

"No."

Ten minutes later.

"You wanna sit on the potty and try and poop?"

"No-oh."

30 minutes later.

"How about we sit on the toilet and you try and go poop?"

"No, tank yooo very much, Mom."

20 minutes later.

"Poop?"

"Naw."

45 minutes later.

"Mom, are you hold me and give me a fresh diaper?"

"Oh no, did you poop?"

"Are you hold me?"

"Did you poop?"

"Are you hold me and give me fresh diaper?"

"Oh, Briar, why did you poop in your diaper?"

She smiles.

"Fresh diaper?"

"Ok."

Pulling down her pants I see the sitter gave her a big girl diaper.

"Briar, you have on a princess diaper, that means you went on the potty."

"I go on the potty at Jen's."

"Why don't you at home?"

Another smile. I am annoyed.

"This is baby stuff Briar."

More smiling. Damn her, little brat.

"Oh Briar. Next time tell mama."

She smiles, it's a long slow smile. If I didn't know her bowel was empty I'd think she was about to drop torpedoes 2 & 3.

"I did the biggest nasty in mine diaper."

I lose the game of chicken as I snort and throw my head back.

One Day You'll Be Sorry

When I was in high school, with the odd exception, I toed the line. I played sports, wrote for the paper and the yearbook, acted in pays and ran for class office. My weekends were generally spent hanging out with the track and field gang. TP'ing houses, though maybe not the best thing to do, was certainly better than most. It kept us occupied, and frankly made my parents laugh as they let me know I had some cleaning up to do in our front yard. Again. Or the time I tp'd one of their fellow Rotarian's neighbor's house. Yes, neighbor. It sucked. The intended victim caught us in the act. Oh the teen age mortification.

Anyway, one of the times I screwed up was, well, it was a really big screw up. It was like I saved up all the times I didn't misbehave and I crammed 'em all into one, wine cooler fueled evening of stupidity. The gang decided to pull an all nighter and it turned out that I didn't have the chops for it. Not far into a 2 liter of the sweet, bubbly, you-won't-taste-the-alcohol-until-you-are-too-far-gone-to-stop orange California Cooler I began to get a tad bit clumsy. I'll cut to the chase as I don't particularly enjoy reliving this memory, not because it's that embarrassing (though it it), but because I am now a mom. And I know with utter certainty that no matter how great a job we do, our girls will be lured, and there will be boys where they are lured. Bad things can happen when luring happens.

The other night I was putting Briar to bed and she was rubbing my leg absentmindedly as I read to her. At one point she stroked my knee and looked up at me.

"What happened to you mama?"

I looked at the three inch scar that spanned my knee cap and then over at the thumb print sized scar off to the side, punctuating the larger one.

"I fell."

"How'd you fall, mama?"

"Mama, fell down in a river. She cut her knee."

Her eyes darkened and her brow furrowed.

"Mama is ok. It happened a long time ago."

"Mama fell down and hurt herself in the river. You fell in the river and got a boo boo on yourself."

"Yes, but I am all better now."

"You felled in the river, but yourself is all better now in your knee where you got the boo boo in the river."

"That's right."

"Briar fell and hurt her knee in the river. Ow my knee, it hurts."

"No honey, you didn't fall in the river. Mom did. She wasn't careful adn she fell. You will be careful and you won't hurt yourself in the river." Please god don't let her fall down drunk in a river with boys and stupid girls who will leave her on the floor in a convenience store.

"Briar no can fall in the river so she cannot hurt herself. Mama is all better now. She not gonna fall in the river again."

Since then she has reminded at random intervals that once I hurt myself in a river.

I am very sorry now. And I am very hopeful that somehow we can keep the lure of being bad at bay.

Clues

I find it alternately fascinating and humiliating, this journey through little genetic clues and riddles.

A little nail biting here, belly button fingering there.

I watch our girls, searching their faces for some sign of me. I observe Briar when she's working at something, the way she sticks her tongue to one side of her mouth and chews on it. It's a Barnes trait they tell me. Skipping two generations, it is her great grandfather's dna.

I delight in the way Avery scrunches up her nose, sending waves of wrinkles from chin to forehead. We have no idea where it comes from, perhaps it's wholely her, something that her great grandson will do. I love her dimples and the undeniable strength of her long body. I find each physical milestone intoxicating as the tomboy emerges stronger and bolder.

I know that a good deal of Briar's infuriating stubbornness comes from me. I also know that her loving side, her need to make sure that all the kids in the room have a toy is something that she gets from me. Both girls are wild about music and books.

They like boys. A lot. I'm pretty sure that comes from me too. Hehehe

Lately I have seen something else, something that is clearly Sean's. I mentioned it the other night in a not entirely complementary way. I was teasing. Sometimes I don't do a very good job of saying things. I meant to say that I envied him this quality, that I was grateful that we fell in love and made this wonderful family. I celebrate the exquisite compostion of his characeteristics and mine, come to life in these two girls. Today, I'll say clearly, I think this particular trait Briar has received from Sean is a good thing, in him, and in her.

I'll forgo giving it a name as it might come off as unintentionally critical. Behold the work of my designer husband's daughter:

Pin-up

My mom-at-the-playground take
on the hot pin-up lounging in a bikini on a hot rod.

Certifiable Music Dork

The deliciously frank and incredibly talented
Kelly unwittingly opened up a nasty can of worms by tagging my incredibly musically challenged self with a meme about the top seven songs on my playlist, or something along those lines. You can check out her blog to see the exact challenge, and I do mean challenge, you'll also find wonderful writing and often hilarious stories about her life.

Ok. I was actually kind of excited about this because there are a couple of songs currently getting air time that I like.
"Oooh, the chance to sound hip."

But then I got to thinking:

"Amanda, by the time stuff is on the radio, it's no longer really hip. And it's the radio, c'mon. If your are truly hip you are going on iTunes and creating playlists that blend old and new and totally mix genres in that awesome, magically cohesive yet totally not contrived way."

A few years back I started listening to the top 40 station. I said I did it because at the time I was working with at-risk kids and we were putting on a talent show. Adult contemporary and Top 40 are the kiss of death for any desired hipness quotient. I'll gladly say I don't go in for adult contemporary, but Top 40? Well this particular time was during the debut of the Justin Timberlake song where he did that impossibly catchy mm-psst, mmm-psst thing, which I am sure is really something more like mm-bcht, mm-bcht, mm-bcht because I always get these things wrong. But whatever, I'm a dork. I loved it.

Well, the Top 40 thing, I didn't get that it was diluted. I figured out the songs with the kids and had Sean download them. Did you know that there are radio versions and not for radio versions? I didn't, perhaps that's why the kids loved me, I was like the simple cousin who babysat and let them swing from the chandelier and eat ho-hos and drink Jolt because they said their parents let them do it. Imagine my suprise when I was singing along to the lyrics and realized that all of a sudden there were a few extra words that I was not familiar with.

Fast forward 5+ years and I am still listening to the Top 40 station. And the two country stations. And the mix of yesterday, today and tomorrow's hits station. I also listen to the cds in the car, the playlist Sean sets up for me in the iPod when we go to the gym and on and on. The idea of writing down 7 songs, well, it's seems impossible, but let's see if I can do it.

1. There is a song out that makes me smile. It makes me smile like Gettin' Jiggy With It made me smile in college. I didn't know the title so I asked Sean.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah."

"I got tagged for a meme about music. I want to put down a song I like but I need your help."

"Ok." He perked up because he loves talking about music and I usally take very little interest.

"Ok, it just came out and he goes - something, something shake it. Ummm, then it's like - shake it, I know you like to jiggle it like butter or something like that."

He was looking at me with the most bewildered expression.

"Honey, come one. He keeps talking about how he knows she likes to shake it and she should just show him how she shakes it. And she's like big like, something big. Do you know the song? It's either on 102 or 92 I'm not sure."

More looks screaming that he thinks I've lost it.

"What? Don't laugh at me. You don't know the shake it song?"

"The milk shake song?"

"No. That's a woman. And that didn't just come out. C'mon and show me how you shake? "

Shaking his head.

Scratch that one.

2. Ok, does the Outback jingle count? Let's go Outback tonight. We can something, something, so-um-thing. I always have that in my head.

3. Thre's a song playing these days by the guys who sing the song that talks about being 15 for a minute. I love that one.

4. The Fairy Song. I think it's actually called Firefly and it sounds like Michael Stipe is singing back up. Briar loves it so it makes her quiet me happy.

5. Me and My Gang continues to be a favorite around these parts. I mean if you have a song that in the first three bars (is that the right term?) has both girls bouncing and squealing no matter their moods? Well then my friends you have found cheap, attainable nirvana. I swear they know it's on before I recognize it, but I suppose that really isn't saying much considering my total lack of musical acumen.

6. Every once in a while I stumble upon a song Sean downloaded for me after I heard as the credits rolled for some movie. I believe it's called The Book of Love.

7. Can I have the silence after a song be my favorite? If so I call the end of any of the Backyardigans songs as my absolute favorite.


Because this was such an abomination of a meme answer I apologize to Kelly and decline to pass this on to anyone as I wasn't worthy of it to begin with. Wait, I take that back. I want to tag Karen. Feel free to tag yourself if you are interested in doing this. I am off to sing Ariel songs with Briar.

Overheard at dinner last night

Mommy, are you poopin'?
I wasn't.

Oh no! My kick!
This was in reference to one of her Kix falling on the floor.

Mama, are you poopin'?
I still was not pooping.

Briar's got milk in her cup. Mama needs to go to store'n buy orange juice. Briar needs orange juice, not milk. Thank you mom to go to store.
This was said with sippy cup outstretched, one particularly dry bite of dinner later I was able to convince her of the quenching and mouth rinsing qualities of milk.

Mama, I said are you poopin'.
And no, I still was not using the dining room chair as a commode.

Toward the end of dinner Briar sat up very tall, I thought perhaps her booster seat was slipping as she looked a little off kilter. She looked at me with wide eyes and said:

I gotta get outta here.
I looked at her quizzically and realized the off kilterness was the result of her lifting one cheek off the seat and holding herself up so as not to press her bottom against the chair.

Briar, did you poop?

Ok.


I'm thinking we are ready for dinner parties.