tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-175512112024-03-07T18:26:46.725-05:00It's a Jungle in Hereexperiences in raising my children to be pinko commie tree-hugging bleeding-heart liberalsHeidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.comBlogger398125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-74337448592557838412013-01-10T10:28:00.000-05:002013-01-10T10:28:04.034-05:002012I'm not the resolution type (because I'm terrible at following through and finishing what I start!), but in the spirit of a new year, I'm hoping to start blogging again, at least on an occasional basis. I've realized lately how much I like (and miss) having this kind of record of our lives, so I want to try and do a little bit more. So I'll begin with a review of 2012, the first year in which I wrote absolutely nothing on this blog since I began it in (just had to look back and check and oh my goodness that was a long time ago) 2005!<br />
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<span id="fullpost">2012 was a pretty busy year for us. It's the first year in which we've had to consider buying a second car because having to schedule the one made things pretty difficult sometimes. Between our regular commitments (Greg's job [still working at the university], my volunteerism at the kids' school, swimming lessons, soccer games, ultimate frisbee, band and chorus) and the more irregular things (doctor's and dentist's appointments, birthday parties, races, concerts, field trips, adventure races, weddings, funerals) we found ourselves on the move quite a lot.</span> <span id="fullpost">I'm hoping to go into more details in some future posts, but I'll touch on some of the biggest events of the last year. </span><br />
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<span id="fullpost">Shortly after the new year, my grandmother passed away -- my last remaining grandparent. Several months later, Greg's grandfather passed away as well -- the first of his grandparents. We feel lucky to have had loving grandparents, and we're grateful our children were able to know their great-grandparents. </span><br />
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<span id="fullpost">Luckily we had many more happy moments than sad during the year. We got to see my family quite a bit, what with several family meet-ups at my mom's house, a visit from my sister and her husband, and my third annual New England road trip with the kids. We also took two trips to Washington to see Greg's family -- once in July for his sister's wedding, and again at Christmas.</span><br />
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<span id="fullpost">We tried to stay pretty active this year. Every year I feel as if we don't manage to get out hiking and camping as much as we'd like, but when I looked back at the year's photos I realized we did a pretty good job. Thanks to last year's warm winter, we were able to hike snow-free during January, February and March. We went camping in the Adirondacks twice during the summer with friends of ours, as well as doing plenty of summer hiking, and discovering some cool new places. Our biggest physical accomplishments this year include my second half-marathon, Greg's first 24-hour adventure race, and the kids' first 5k. In addition, Greg and I ran a fun Mud Run together, and I ran my first Boilermaker (a huge, very popular 15k near my hometown).</span><br />
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<span id="fullpost">Some other fun we had this year: the kids and I got to meet James Howe (author of the Bunnicula books, among others) when he visited their school last spring; I took Greg to see a live Mythbusters show for his birthday; Greg got me an awesome new camera for my birthday; we spent a weekend at a cottage in the Finger Lakes with friends; Greg and I got to attend a fancy gala at the local science museum thanks to his job; Greg and I celebrated 3 years of marriage (and 12 years as a couple!); we took the kids on a weekend vacation to an indoor water park; the kids went white-water rafting for the first time; and Greg and I went to a concert for the first time in years (Shiny Toy Guns, a pop/rock/dance band). We also came close to being sued, but that's a long story for another time.</span><br />
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<span id="fullpost">Hopefully I'll remember to update a bit more frequently than in recent years. I apologize for the lack of photos, but I wanted to put something up without spending too much time searching for pictures to accompany the post. I post photos regularly on my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/heidomerg/" target="_blank">Flickr page</a>, so you can keep up with us there if I'm too much of a slacker here.</span>Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-10346600579788159132011-06-05T21:35:00.005-05:002013-01-10T10:27:33.252-05:00now we are sixDear Evan,<br />
<br />
I failed to write you a birthday letter when you turned five, so now I've got a lot of lost time to make up for. You turned six today! It's a little bit unbelievable, how much you've grown. Looking at your six-year-old face, it's hard to find any traces of the chubby-cheeked baby who used to toddle around our house. You're getting taller and skinnier all the time -- those Schmidt genes are finally starting to show themselves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlRQGWHf9rtMgrlRPdKj_HxemFS6szyxAC4eSziOiR2evjRzBrTcTX2Cj8TlZICYS7CRmccz5_KOc7Xyx1xM4Gw7fue1maTgLATvGUctcxAa6aXlxA_L52yu5v_9w_2FO-PoWbg/s1600/IMG_5005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614931409679746754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlRQGWHf9rtMgrlRPdKj_HxemFS6szyxAC4eSziOiR2evjRzBrTcTX2Cj8TlZICYS7CRmccz5_KOc7Xyx1xM4Gw7fue1maTgLATvGUctcxAa6aXlxA_L52yu5v_9w_2FO-PoWbg/s400/IMG_5005.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
You've had a lot of big changes in your sixth year. The most important in your day-to-day life was starting kindergarten. Finally, after all those years of waiting, you get to ride the bus with your big brother and your neighborhood friends. Now you, too, get to have gym (your favorite) and music and library and computer class and field trips and bingo nights and all of the wonderful things that come along with grade school.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kx5T_z-gCz7thXnomJ3xAKuiVPLrRsIHMuKuAklWEgQP_rpSwYxIEeLqyYJdce3LGWHRknKQ8ceNAmkcD_hJno25w8_rssec6ipBpUEPCDluAQU-Iej5fzkjifuVlgG2v7ce1w/s1600/IMG_6621.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614932934578715394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kx5T_z-gCz7thXnomJ3xAKuiVPLrRsIHMuKuAklWEgQP_rpSwYxIEeLqyYJdce3LGWHRknKQ8ceNAmkcD_hJno25w8_rssec6ipBpUEPCDluAQU-Iej5fzkjifuVlgG2v7ce1w/s400/IMG_6621.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
And you're right at home in school. Your teachers have sent home glowing reports, you're making friends, your handwriting has progressed from shaky preschooler scrawl to careful, precise printing, you're adding with ease (and getting there with subtraction), and best of all, you're reading! You took your time getting into reading, but once you got the hang of it you quickly became a pro. Now you read stories aloud with perfect expression and barely any stumbles at all. You're a huge fan of comics, but you're beginning to make forays into chapter books as well.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZ1375mKt6J8YAn1Jdl8K6sJKMPEFsEnM_EWiBuVNFmGYRN13BcAMc2miPv9Qz1VfohVmhkmxnpPQDxtTSSprsVj22syomPA3FGz9QnVKI4aIFe7tfgRn4WYY05UMlAL7CUI4dw/s1600/IMG_8434.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614933529389283778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZ1375mKt6J8YAn1Jdl8K6sJKMPEFsEnM_EWiBuVNFmGYRN13BcAMc2miPv9Qz1VfohVmhkmxnpPQDxtTSSprsVj22syomPA3FGz9QnVKI4aIFe7tfgRn4WYY05UMlAL7CUI4dw/s400/IMG_8434.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>School has been a huge deal this year, but you've grown up in other ways as well. You learned to ride a two-wheeler this spring, and you could not have been more proud of yourself. In true Evan fashion, you spent a few days complaining that it was too hard and you'd never be able to do it, and then one day practically without warning you climbed onto your bike and rode off down the street as if it were the simplest thing in the world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiWB5s_mhdLmnUA8oWpsP94GvZMAZPnuG2mUpNGSaryfrAXs6m2QKVZD9613WlcNIcC5J_Nz_tgL7gU4ujai9GeX5l2dE-g4bbChpQ6SwtBEn50UjszlGuOkC72kZ-L7bUWmNZw/s1600/IMG_5963.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614931420671141266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYiWB5s_mhdLmnUA8oWpsP94GvZMAZPnuG2mUpNGSaryfrAXs6m2QKVZD9613WlcNIcC5J_Nz_tgL7gU4ujai9GeX5l2dE-g4bbChpQ6SwtBEn50UjszlGuOkC72kZ-L7bUWmNZw/s400/IMG_5963.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
One of the biggest changes since the last birthday letter I wrote you is that tantrums are nearly a thing of the past. You have come a long way in learning to control your temper, and your hard work and practice have paid off. You seem so mature these days. There are still occasional bumps in the road, but you're really learning to master yourself, and I think that makes everyone who lives with you a little happier.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSTj8GFrs0tP8h9Th7ED7TNvPBtLDsevyjadbORCgD_8G0TQWvDy9YIQzMk7vbBf4Uj8DXfoOFrPbdBqskzmwyQMXZWlkrU1B-d0X8_2VmwSzBgQwIkwhxT5wIiSveK8udCAdm8Q/s1600/IMG_8258.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614932966501795602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSTj8GFrs0tP8h9Th7ED7TNvPBtLDsevyjadbORCgD_8G0TQWvDy9YIQzMk7vbBf4Uj8DXfoOFrPbdBqskzmwyQMXZWlkrU1B-d0X8_2VmwSzBgQwIkwhxT5wIiSveK8udCAdm8Q/s400/IMG_8258.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
One of the biggest challenges you had to face this year was the sudden death of your uncle John, your dad's older brother. This was your first real, personal encounter with death, and it took some time for you to really process and comprehend what had happened. We were all deeply affected, of course, but it breaks my heart a little that you only had a few short years to know your uncle. I hope you'll always remember how much he loved you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaYCo-tzpVbJxPZnAqJVLBHxRxINIOEPlcZL0E-_cWjxIEfErRFP4FjXhp0RYANh46TtHTi1wF8TZ5T3YhzRzqFE1WA0ueAQ1V0uAsLKP0ZWCA509hK_aWOfNmdsMK5jZneK-dA/s1600/IMG_6927.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614932955030375282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCaYCo-tzpVbJxPZnAqJVLBHxRxINIOEPlcZL0E-_cWjxIEfErRFP4FjXhp0RYANh46TtHTi1wF8TZ5T3YhzRzqFE1WA0ueAQ1V0uAsLKP0ZWCA509hK_aWOfNmdsMK5jZneK-dA/s400/IMG_6927.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
This year wasn't all changes, though. In many ways you're still the same Evan we've known and loved for so many years. Rambunctious, spontaneous, imaginative, funny, affectionate. Still obsessed with Legos, still in love with any animal you lay eyes on, still ready for snuggling at bedtime. You're still the same unpredictable child who constantly keeps us on our toes. You make sure our lives don't get boring.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiYP78GvhCurqMigPQF1W0JxMc2K6exaIMnPT6HAnqqdrfxutjzuroaT4flbDifohrYKY7UVIlUxUK7UUWi4YTL-Dk50RJMc9gvGpJ6UFQs_VVABtxa1-80inm7bvNC0ex32gzg/s1600/IMG_6690.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614932945616095602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiYP78GvhCurqMigPQF1W0JxMc2K6exaIMnPT6HAnqqdrfxutjzuroaT4flbDifohrYKY7UVIlUxUK7UUWi4YTL-Dk50RJMc9gvGpJ6UFQs_VVABtxa1-80inm7bvNC0ex32gzg/s400/IMG_6690.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Only a day into six years old and we've already been told that six year olds don't need help with things anymore. Six seems to be a Big Deal, the first year, maybe, in which you really believe you have changed. But at the same time you're not in too much of a hurry to grow up, and I'm glad for that, because it's so much fun to be your mother, Evan.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-24290026508706897322010-10-13T15:27:00.000-05:002010-10-13T15:31:51.805-05:00a letter to my brother-in-lawDear John,<br /><br />A million thoughts have been swirling through my head in the last couple of days, but the one I keep returning to, the thing I can't get past, is how unfair it is that you're dead. How unfair it is to you, who had so much life left to live, and how unfair it is for the rest of us, who have to figure out how to live in a world you're not part of anymore.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEh_fljpVWQwuWp_GiqXS7EL9Mzp2FKM-fTfAHt41t9ilC9RlKRXFcXSVfNuZN-TG1RUjzNsMkeUlzWekrzzkzuzHGK3Ce7QBQC5hxX8hmRx0N6w3PFSshvLURrn7zTf4S8bnwew/s1600/IMG_6565.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEh_fljpVWQwuWp_GiqXS7EL9Mzp2FKM-fTfAHt41t9ilC9RlKRXFcXSVfNuZN-TG1RUjzNsMkeUlzWekrzzkzuzHGK3Ce7QBQC5hxX8hmRx0N6w3PFSshvLURrn7zTf4S8bnwew/s400/IMG_6565.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527553356370236178" border="0" /></a>It's so unfair that you were taken from us so suddenly. I'm just hung up on the injustice of it, from the stupid little things like how sad I am for you that you'll never get to play the keyboards on Rock Band 3, or how you'll never get to read the book you were telling me about the last time I saw you, to the huge things like how you won't get to see your nephews grow up, and how terribly sad it is that you and Elizabeth don't get to grow old together. You had so much left to do!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S046aQ8hAhZFWZj-0XF8WpIGXMjVKkiOORMKae3nwq5-gIkw5nS5rxvmeYDaFThKMS9X6JkCaNY7kAxmSSMf02se5Kgc4kPCxi14YKty6qWlM9A9QimRVTBoWu3i58V6K1nHNQ/s1600/IMG_5839.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S046aQ8hAhZFWZj-0XF8WpIGXMjVKkiOORMKae3nwq5-gIkw5nS5rxvmeYDaFThKMS9X6JkCaNY7kAxmSSMf02se5Kgc4kPCxi14YKty6qWlM9A9QimRVTBoWu3i58V6K1nHNQ/s400/IMG_5839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527553351776016066" border="0" /></a>I've been your official sister-in-law for less than a year, but I felt like family from almost the first time we met, nine years ago, because you were so open and warm and friendly. I've lost a number of relatives in my life, but this is the first time I've lost a family member who was also a dear friend. And maybe it's because I'm so far away, but it still doesn't feel quite real yet. When I think that I'll never see you again, never hear your wonderful contagious laugh, never have another huge warm hug from you, it seems impossible.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Vr0E7mMB8XvIDnjsIm3nuzulwj3RCdjgA6bqqu713rNJsTkl68aIYR0KjatNbUubrHANxm4E3cSLVZHBs0V8YmmsJyYV2RvoOSa0w_EFYhlvdtvp5LcpTFOgNlXpSw1sIsh6Xg/s1600/roar.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Vr0E7mMB8XvIDnjsIm3nuzulwj3RCdjgA6bqqu713rNJsTkl68aIYR0KjatNbUubrHANxm4E3cSLVZHBs0V8YmmsJyYV2RvoOSa0w_EFYhlvdtvp5LcpTFOgNlXpSw1sIsh6Xg/s400/roar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527553347487606978" border="0" /></a>I only got to know you for nine years, which was not nearly long enough. And if nine years can produce so much grief, how much worse must it be for those who knew you and loved you for decades, for your whole life? And there were so many who loved you -- who wouldn't love you? You were an amazing person, a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, an uncle, a friend, and you were so kind, generous, loving, and always smiling. My heart aches for your parents, your siblings, all of your family and friends, and most deeply for Elizabeth.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6TShAeRC_u8Mh5Gj38y7hSCmIYWWXIc9tCpeXn4M7RCH_nMqdO-dewcX3vKYognd9c8TAr6VRMiXFAdtTbu01VCZ7GETW5HNNf7n4xnwgP95MZkPhuwNrICWzMFYu8kGRZq3DA/s1600/IMG_4018.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6TShAeRC_u8Mh5Gj38y7hSCmIYWWXIc9tCpeXn4M7RCH_nMqdO-dewcX3vKYognd9c8TAr6VRMiXFAdtTbu01VCZ7GETW5HNNf7n4xnwgP95MZkPhuwNrICWzMFYu8kGRZq3DA/s400/IMG_4018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527553343947419346" border="0" /></a>How do you say goodbye to someone you didn't even know was going to be leaving? We all miss you, more than words can adequately express. It's so hard to see beyond the sudden pain of loss. I know it won't always be this painful, but your absence will always be felt.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhVAj0fTFBqRaC9N6DKnQdxNuXp-EEEc1eAIPWPmEOjIOKIrMnReekZc2mrrLa4Z8aY3Vq_EmwHM7-rJVMJa3Ea1zOAY8gG853AlkGWtnkGJDJ0f0vj3Cu_f5p9RilVrHZIas9Q/s1600/100_2149.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhVAj0fTFBqRaC9N6DKnQdxNuXp-EEEc1eAIPWPmEOjIOKIrMnReekZc2mrrLa4Z8aY3Vq_EmwHM7-rJVMJa3Ea1zOAY8gG853AlkGWtnkGJDJ0f0vj3Cu_f5p9RilVrHZIas9Q/s400/100_2149.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527553360591941698" border="0" /></a>Thank you, John, for being such a wonderful person, for all the fun and laughter and hugs and conversation and games and generosity and kindness and love. You will never be forgotten. You will ever be missed and loved. Rest well, brother, and maybe someday we'll meet again.<br /><br />Love,<br />HeidiHeidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-61816995554770640442010-01-21T16:25:00.004-05:002010-02-08T21:45:05.776-05:00belated birthday postDear James,<br /><br />I'm a month late with your birthday letter, but surely after eight years of living with me and your dad, you've learned that punctuality is not something we're known for, nor does it run in the family, so I know you'll forgive me. I know this, too, because you're a forgiving sort of person, quick to move on, never holding a grudge.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7eILWa5eCwycXHjegALf2j5lSktCmIVp_agv0otRXm3C8Wbx44IvXl4AaoZgb5EIwGqYtqJddumBhZjTVIMozMyMM8HnwZ_R2PobKo8wgGFH2tBH57wPq4-ifzsE9lvstxGqbQ/s1600-h/IMG_8355.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit7eILWa5eCwycXHjegALf2j5lSktCmIVp_agv0otRXm3C8Wbx44IvXl4AaoZgb5EIwGqYtqJddumBhZjTVIMozMyMM8HnwZ_R2PobKo8wgGFH2tBH57wPq4-ifzsE9lvstxGqbQ/s400/IMG_8355.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429312790217076210" border="0" /></a>Thank goodness for that, because this year you are beginning to make comparisons between your life and the lives of your peers, and you're quick to let your dad and me know when we fall short of the parenting ideals. Too many chores, no allowance, we never take you to McDonald's, that sort of thing. You like to inform us of all of the wonderful things you'll do as soon as you turn eighteen. I almost died the day you added "buy whipped cream in a can" to this list. Someday you will understand that your mother always whips real cream not because she hates you and wants you to be weird, but because she loves you and wants you to enjoy real food.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFXQzMZaA42Wm0uQs-fzMNIzjKdchoQMrA1URYGm_zXGrqgAIswudNrkA0gTDtYY-OQL2p46PgjWYahCs37Ogn_CZqAn3TDdwCAlOisIJwDmHhNL0GHEi0PWa0Whz-PVNZgyehw/s1600-h/IMG_8425.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFXQzMZaA42Wm0uQs-fzMNIzjKdchoQMrA1URYGm_zXGrqgAIswudNrkA0gTDtYY-OQL2p46PgjWYahCs37Ogn_CZqAn3TDdwCAlOisIJwDmHhNL0GHEi0PWa0Whz-PVNZgyehw/s400/IMG_8425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429312795232101106" border="0" /></a>Yesterday you were angry with me for one of my many parenting failures and you demanded, "How do I know you're my <span style="font-style: italic;">real</span> mother?" It's hard to tell sometimes, because you are still so remarkably like your dad. Your second-grade teacher is very impressed with your math knowledge and skills, and she told us how surprised she was during the first week of school when you informed the class about negative numbers. I would have loved to see the look on her face a couple of weeks ago when you went to school armed with the information your dad had just taught you about imaginary numbers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahZXj6lpWZjUhRM5XNv7jJYhNv3IpsM7LDCGndWgylbd3ZFa3wrzhw4hnVllMPJxOM3yvaL4nMZoIykiaWBz3EqxqiazL5iZCFdgjujdpPQsg-tlGZQYSR3486cP2tSghV5XIA/s1600-h/271.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqahZXj6lpWZjUhRM5XNv7jJYhNv3IpsM7LDCGndWgylbd3ZFa3wrzhw4hnVllMPJxOM3yvaL4nMZoIykiaWBz3EqxqiazL5iZCFdgjujdpPQsg-tlGZQYSR3486cP2tSghV5XIA/s400/271.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429317204362475138" border="0" /></a>You take after your dad in so many ways. You share his curiosity about the world around you, and from him you've learned to turn to science for your answers. You're so imaginative, always coming up with new ideas. You share his love of games, especially video games. You can be so silly -- you should have seen the look I gave your dad when your teacher told us about all of the weird noises you make in class, seemingly without even being aware of making them -- but you still have a surprising attention span, especially when it comes to drawing and reading.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6G-sI8jmTyaHfFBhBPkLo9LuRqLxVjxIVNBFRJ-xfbbJyJEBS2RBveSihWXIc40d2H1cB5ko3tTInYVE5ZIf9xU-OFLW7LrPgfjkywz4pMBCxKadi8RUfdhmjKlly3awO0akdw/s1600-h/IMG_8443.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6G-sI8jmTyaHfFBhBPkLo9LuRqLxVjxIVNBFRJ-xfbbJyJEBS2RBveSihWXIc40d2H1cB5ko3tTInYVE5ZIf9xU-OFLW7LrPgfjkywz4pMBCxKadi8RUfdhmjKlly3awO0akdw/s400/IMG_8443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429312801877412850" border="0" /></a>Now, reading: that's one way I know you're my son. When you find a book you like you get so wrapped up in it that you can't put it down. You don't hear people talking to you, you carry the book around with you when you're forced to do something other than read, you bring a flashlight in the car so darkness won't prevent you finishing this chapter. You're reading books that are shelved in the Young Adult section of the library, yet you still like to be read to at bedtime.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTfIwhOvbhNroyJKnbj9xjrDBbk5ossFw_UW8NmUR5StyQPvw8E7gh3XJ2hCJxVTXsUhDa1BBw2kEDuPlP_7TKuoDQRM6MvpatsryKeHvj4AzvFJsizAdVViJFDT_8_8nFKuc9w/s1600-h/134.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTfIwhOvbhNroyJKnbj9xjrDBbk5ossFw_UW8NmUR5StyQPvw8E7gh3XJ2hCJxVTXsUhDa1BBw2kEDuPlP_7TKuoDQRM6MvpatsryKeHvj4AzvFJsizAdVViJFDT_8_8nFKuc9w/s400/134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429317187540818802" border="0" /></a>It's a strange age, eight. You're navigating the gray area between childhood and adolescence. You like to snuggle on the couch and watch nature shows, yet you like to rock out to Weezer. You play Legos and cars with your brother at home, yet on the playground at school you and your friends play Twilight. I was the kind of kid who always felt a little out of place at this stage, but I think you're enjoying it, being able to move within two worlds.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-zKbeX4TzfunMyYv1lihK8Lk54-mZ3nvB15HcdK7ap7NfbH9kiGp34cR4QsVusC45HfFNd6TNmAInLxFgrdlWCB__CFkB82SamwGgyfrsFeOGJFlRICqI41nD3ok9hNY8Vx3uA/s1600-h/298.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-zKbeX4TzfunMyYv1lihK8Lk54-mZ3nvB15HcdK7ap7NfbH9kiGp34cR4QsVusC45HfFNd6TNmAInLxFgrdlWCB__CFkB82SamwGgyfrsFeOGJFlRICqI41nD3ok9hNY8Vx3uA/s400/298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429317209484701074" border="0" /></a>You and your brother are still great friends, but I've noticed a bit of a change this year. It's becoming apparent that you are growing older, your tastes are changing, and you're a little less content to play the same old games. Sometimes you even decline to play with Evan in favor of reading, which sends him running to me, pleading can we <span style="font-style: italic;">please</span> not get Calvin and Hobbes from the library anymore because all James does is reeeaaaaad!!! Evan gets frustrated with your growing maturity, but you are often kind enough to humor him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOHCTcubHdczwaqYUq01zTFXiRaZZl4XKf7UYUbNWAEmCcOql14eo2c4UPk2aUFYSWVw2F6GXelLHeOKgKORnmJ-oU8sJ6EOHIFvJ3MK8n7n_uLbX-Bv2JyqbdcJVGxlAzeeKrg/s1600-h/363.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOHCTcubHdczwaqYUq01zTFXiRaZZl4XKf7UYUbNWAEmCcOql14eo2c4UPk2aUFYSWVw2F6GXelLHeOKgKORnmJ-oU8sJ6EOHIFvJ3MK8n7n_uLbX-Bv2JyqbdcJVGxlAzeeKrg/s400/363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429317211929238818" border="0" /></a>It's fun being your mom in so many ways, James, whether you're telling jokes or drawing comics or helping me cook or regurgitating facts you've learned from Nature or Nova or from your dad. I like watching you crack up while you watch movies; I like sharing favorite books and movies and music with you and knowing you're old enough to really appreciate and enjoy them; I like overhearing you sing songs or recite poems you've learned at school; I like to see you drawing charts and graphs for fun, or designing board games, or writing stories.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1HRxs6tAHoZBusvK5039uNJkg9OuNtpmKjBEmDR2XblXGgKdBJnR4Vt_xp_TIAI6usi9hQeUUBxK1rEWO9AwAD8U31q47m6cBB7SDjL-kPbyGMeb7y26_gxmtyT9_FPMoGtlX6g/s1600-h/IMG_8227.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1HRxs6tAHoZBusvK5039uNJkg9OuNtpmKjBEmDR2XblXGgKdBJnR4Vt_xp_TIAI6usi9hQeUUBxK1rEWO9AwAD8U31q47m6cBB7SDjL-kPbyGMeb7y26_gxmtyT9_FPMoGtlX6g/s400/IMG_8227.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429312785406614594" border="0" /></a>Thank you for helping make our lives so much fun, James. Happy belated birthday. I love you more than any blog post can convey.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-81779452085084651712009-12-17T09:16:00.000-05:002009-12-17T09:13:20.569-05:00catching up: washington vacationSince we're leaving on Friday to spend Christmas and New Year's in Washington with Greg's family, I thought it was about time I got around to posting about our summer vacation there.<br /><br />It had been three years since the last time we'd been to Washington in the summer, and we'd almost forgotten how much there was to do there in warm weather. Such as horseback riding:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKEU_P1pjpKssUTKDhC_xAHGAW6mXaQgpNZnOcCRYKAgfYcSTfq_Kxrzt_O8UVMpUlsEUM7Q03XbsSfO3xux9dRwB-8Ep-BvrXbod1DPP64_ymjjsTwv7SgO0bF_Rt0WjjXczSA/s1600-h/205.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKEU_P1pjpKssUTKDhC_xAHGAW6mXaQgpNZnOcCRYKAgfYcSTfq_Kxrzt_O8UVMpUlsEUM7Q03XbsSfO3xux9dRwB-8Ep-BvrXbod1DPP64_ymjjsTwv7SgO0bF_Rt0WjjXczSA/s400/205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415963299869624994" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEz1oaKvFjZdNVheYv_sqC91xvZB0vkHc-xKKFkUA-nZjqTIucwmJvN5jdFwJFPWo8F2weUXonw5TrdQB2du-q56hMCJ8NPYr2g45ijVfma5TRS-AVKUUosULPh-CJn05Y6bEOg/s1600-h/203.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEz1oaKvFjZdNVheYv_sqC91xvZB0vkHc-xKKFkUA-nZjqTIucwmJvN5jdFwJFPWo8F2weUXonw5TrdQB2du-q56hMCJ8NPYr2g45ijVfma5TRS-AVKUUosULPh-CJn05Y6bEOg/s400/203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415963296219815986" border="0" /></a>And trips to the beach:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1Fk7VzDRXbTxPCBX7bQF-ILAiu6RGeao9ASCKQb7KZVjD8fpbzJWkq3UniDkkTrRfKrWOLQ187vq6alGs64GgYMYx8Uru8qvcqnSjGdkdxJW-hBP-yr21KZfKoIHYgt1wKQrcg/s1600-h/IMG_1714.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1Fk7VzDRXbTxPCBX7bQF-ILAiu6RGeao9ASCKQb7KZVjD8fpbzJWkq3UniDkkTrRfKrWOLQ187vq6alGs64GgYMYx8Uru8qvcqnSjGdkdxJW-hBP-yr21KZfKoIHYgt1wKQrcg/s400/IMG_1714.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415963290147597266" border="0" /></a>(I believe that was Evan's first time at the Pacific Ocean.)<br /><br />We went to the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/visiting-the-hoh.htm">Hoh Rainforest</a> in Olympic National Park, one of the few temperate rainforests in the world. It's full of giant old trees all covered in hanging moss, which, on a sunny day, is quite lovely. I've actually never been there on a rainy day, so I can't speak to that experience, but I'm sure it's neat then too.<br /><br />Icidentally, the drive to the rainforest takes you through the small town of Forks, which is now well-known as the setting of the Twilight books and movies. It's amusing to see the Twilight mania in this little logging town -- every business with a sign out front welcomes Twilight fans to town, there is a store on the main street selling only Twilight merchandise, and we even saw some teenage girls posing in front of the "Welcome to Forks" sign as we drove into town.<br /><br />Anyway. This photo is of one of the more memorable parts of the trail through the rainforest, and gives you a bit of an idea of the size of some of the trees.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6jmo0vz4tuuy4wPrpoGfxwMKfsA5T3uiFPkWcL9EauRvXuMAoMOP_rQ2Ja9pL9BxEOljMYEkrRMPqWTP4Nb_f0EwCn9pj-EEqf8Td88aW7mVP3QAM74eFpyIJ94vMhyphenhyphen8Q96q0A/s1600-h/IMG_1651.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6jmo0vz4tuuy4wPrpoGfxwMKfsA5T3uiFPkWcL9EauRvXuMAoMOP_rQ2Ja9pL9BxEOljMYEkrRMPqWTP4Nb_f0EwCn9pj-EEqf8Td88aW7mVP3QAM74eFpyIJ94vMhyphenhyphen8Q96q0A/s400/IMG_1651.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415958060030173026" border="0" /></a>Greg and I were able to take a couple of days to ourselves to go hiking and camping in the Olympics (thanks again to Greg's parents for watching the boys for us!). We hiked to <a href="http://www.nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/royal-basin.htm">Royal Basin</a>, a lake that is only reached after climbing a seven-mile trail that rises over 2500 feet in elevation along the way. Needless to say, we were sort of useless in the movement department for a day or two after we got back. But that view is worth it, don't you think?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdrM3DifO6OvMewLadPG_BnT63kzUEYNFCzhm4mufoIdYaGst0S807K_k85juT6haG7rzJ0M5RLZ6pAQRaiB3qnNC78ikpkNdW7MBdb_f5c-4OGsujc3oP6j9MeNCPqrBAHuVOg/s1600-h/539.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdrM3DifO6OvMewLadPG_BnT63kzUEYNFCzhm4mufoIdYaGst0S807K_k85juT6haG7rzJ0M5RLZ6pAQRaiB3qnNC78ikpkNdW7MBdb_f5c-4OGsujc3oP6j9MeNCPqrBAHuVOg/s400/539.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415958056302248274" border="0" /></a>We also saw our first wild bear on that trip, although we didn't get any photos. We saw him only because he heard us coming and started crashing through the underbrush trying to run away from us, so even if we had gotten a photo it would have been of his rear end. So.<br /><br />We went to <a href="http://www.experiencewa.com/attraction.aspx?id=234">Salt Creek</a>, which is a very pretty beach and a great place to look at tide pools. We've been there many times as well, but it never fails to amaze us with its beautiful scenery and the interesting creatures you can find there. In addition to all of the tide pool animals we've seen there (such as sea stars, mussels, crabs, sea cucumbers, sea urchins, snails and fish) we've seen bald eagles, sea lions (or were they seals? I can never remember), sea otters and whales.<br /><br />It's also just fun to play in the sand and water there:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlxt_m33q0GoUtJoEEGjm4V9FBHxFNMcdN8R9cSqYiy4XygDt8LElxbAdkvpjfOIL2pF6YihR9haioZ6BZk_gB9JxBCp9rvBSVac0E2fbQGD1RZLvn-azKXMvXbKSiN7oCYz2sQ/s1600-h/470.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBlxt_m33q0GoUtJoEEGjm4V9FBHxFNMcdN8R9cSqYiy4XygDt8LElxbAdkvpjfOIL2pF6YihR9haioZ6BZk_gB9JxBCp9rvBSVac0E2fbQGD1RZLvn-azKXMvXbKSiN7oCYz2sQ/s400/470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415958049791476002" border="0" /></a>We hiked out to the Devil's Punchbowl at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Crescent">Lake Crescent</a>, along the Spruce Railroad Trail, a trail that actually used to be a railroad. We've done this hike many times in the past but it's a good one for kids (relatively short and flat), plus it's beautiful, so we keep going back again and again. Here's James on the bridge over the punchbowl:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-3LtH4GRd16A7tE7qIw1QlcgKWo54WdgB9Ktkv83p0Pocba8Tl4jsTV5BCpOtPbxTJeqtdOweOdYwnSE4ofLTJRE4I-14YdFspnY5sxYmZFkJklWB1SCkGViT-0C3BvwETB_gA/s1600-h/309.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-3LtH4GRd16A7tE7qIw1QlcgKWo54WdgB9Ktkv83p0Pocba8Tl4jsTV5BCpOtPbxTJeqtdOweOdYwnSE4ofLTJRE4I-14YdFspnY5sxYmZFkJklWB1SCkGViT-0C3BvwETB_gA/s400/309.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415958044141989218" border="0" /></a>And here's Evan along the shore of the lake during the hike:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpABxSGe734IM54jxsL48EziEQuOeJH2ZESYq4z7aAW1teDx7VB2iFKTKAEcMQdvSeVLf13ZwD9ZorA65hDmy7BzaFUCh7DMxwqi5jMevOrtQsqJzDBV0seVfXb22K-nbAyer4g/s1600-h/303.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpABxSGe734IM54jxsL48EziEQuOeJH2ZESYq4z7aAW1teDx7VB2iFKTKAEcMQdvSeVLf13ZwD9ZorA65hDmy7BzaFUCh7DMxwqi5jMevOrtQsqJzDBV0seVfXb22K-nbAyer4g/s400/303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415958035334681458" border="0" /></a>In addition to all of these day trips we took, we also had a lot of fun just hanging out with Greg's family, playing games, watching movies, berry-picking, walking the dogs, building with Legos, eating fresh seafood, and just generally being on vacation.<br /><br />Last night I finally got around to posting some of my photos on Flickr, so <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/heidomerg/sets/72157623016177812/">click here</a> and take a look if you're interested. Those are maybe half of my photos from the trip, but it took about eleventy-zillion hours to upload and label them all, so I think that's all there will be. There are more photos of horses, hiking, the beach, the rainforest, and tide pools, among other things, so check it out.<br /><br />We're headed back to Washington tomorrow morning, and can't wait to spend the holidays with Greg's family! And hopefully it won't take me quite as long to post photos from this trip once we're back home again.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-80161775033281567132009-12-12T09:45:00.002-05:002009-12-12T10:19:45.505-05:00trivial pursuit for kidsMy kids love to play games, any kind of games. Video games, computer games, pretend games, guessing games, board games. James, especially, love games so much that he's constantly making up his own or playing games by himself. If he doesn't know the rules to a game he'll invent them. His games are always terrifically complicated. <br /><br />He's certainly passing on his love of games to his brother. This morning I came downstairs to find them deeply involved in a game of Trivial Pursuit. Evan can't read yet, and most of the questions are outside the limits of their young knowledge, so they make up their own questions. Usually their questions are about Star Wars or Pokemon, but this morning they actually created their own categories to work with: Animals, Water, Sand, Air, Candy and Plants. Evan was The Questioner.<br /><br />Evan: Why doesn't sand evaporate?<br />James: Because it's not made of water!<br />Evan: Good!<br /><br />Evan: Why don't all birds eat fish?<br />James: Because they don't all live near water!<br />Evan: Good!<br /><br />Evan: Why can't you eat sand?<br />James: Because it's not food!<br />Evan: Good!<br /><br />Evan: Why doesn't water go upstream?<br />James: Because hills make it go downstream!<br />Evan: Good!<br /><br />It's so much fun listening to them.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-27175038008697305512009-12-04T13:25:00.006-05:002009-12-04T15:27:02.178-05:00friday photos: thanksgiving editionWe spent Thanksgiving at my mom's house, as we do every year. Only one of my sisters was able to come, and we had a slightly shorter vacation than usual, due to both of my sons having school on Wednesday, but despite those things we still had a fun long weekend.<br /><br />My sister and I made Thanksgiving dinner for 13 people, which was less work than I expected, and utterly delicious. (I didn't take any photos of the food, but my sister's turkey was one of the most perfect-looking -- and delicious-tasting -- main courses I've ever seen.) We took the kids to see <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0432283/">Fantastic Mr. Fox</a>, which was a big hit for both kids and adults (Wes Anderson + Roald Dahl is like a dream come true for me). We played a lot of Rock Band:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVqYr5VbKlFSGU9ZAODEP5K4ChkeQGrr5-s9Om1POGI6coMVWTx2QQH_HUkjUpWh4OWAW51-eZTk0LDGlekJNmYvZU16hAimTPy0Kzlp6BV6suE8F3xhjECTBuBGWZHHmzOZD/s1600-h/IMG_2960.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVqYr5VbKlFSGU9ZAODEP5K4ChkeQGrr5-s9Om1POGI6coMVWTx2QQH_HUkjUpWh4OWAW51-eZTk0LDGlekJNmYvZU16hAimTPy0Kzlp6BV6suE8F3xhjECTBuBGWZHHmzOZD/s400/IMG_2960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411465633908470130" border="0" /></a>On Saturday we went down to the Cooperstown, NY area (famous for being home to the Baseball Hall of Fame) to go to a local cider mill and to a historical museum and village, the <a href="http://www.farmersmuseum.org/">Farmers' Museum</a>. Believe it or not, the kids were not enthralled with this part of the afternoon, but there were some parts they enjoyed. The highlight for them was the carousel ride:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIS0uFgG2aUmbS-ayC9Oq6C-ebKKaKddaiDVQV6EIfcVqDn53sBCPnUWWA3fLTcVs3FYeGgkYl-Eo4TqKyxcgm3mOHz_qc3prC0Q0TZbg69K1dHQ6nZJkj-52e-V8aW1IShd6PA/s1600-h/IMG_2990.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIS0uFgG2aUmbS-ayC9Oq6C-ebKKaKddaiDVQV6EIfcVqDn53sBCPnUWWA3fLTcVs3FYeGgkYl-Eo4TqKyxcgm3mOHz_qc3prC0Q0TZbg69K1dHQ6nZJkj-52e-V8aW1IShd6PA/s400/IMG_2990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411465643185046146" border="0" /></a>I am in love with this carousel. The animals are all animals native to New York State, and they are both adorable and hilarious in carousel form. Some of the animals included a bear, a loon, a goose, a skunk, a frog, a cow and a fish, as well as the pig, raccoon and beaver shown below:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nQRHOz4I4pD_UgaMJCmFK-dGNT-3_wWl1mnqX9Vwv10fRVKaMF6L0vcdUgZqOfSrQQZxRyg3TTWR9tZ-vpYpoB0FPPfa3-W67nv7-9S_yDM7e5oXCP4TEl8OqxcNih3TSah8/s1600-h/IMG_2986.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nQRHOz4I4pD_UgaMJCmFK-dGNT-3_wWl1mnqX9Vwv10fRVKaMF6L0vcdUgZqOfSrQQZxRyg3TTWR9tZ-vpYpoB0FPPfa3-W67nv7-9S_yDM7e5oXCP4TEl8OqxcNih3TSah8/s400/IMG_2986.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411465651711254930" border="0" /></a>The historical village was really pretty. It would have been nicer to walk around there on a sunny day, but even with a chilly drizzle it had its charms:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27kbhY3iJ1IQQfGgok_JCcD-qZRK37F0Q8t_tZHV_DJQcUJuJBlKCx1g-XgvJWAV-Gwt92E5cF0hBNNRLQsMfe18Ly9sEFGJkmCsX0j8zIEhIbOLB5-2XXwY5jrHy7wlwdOpASQ/s1600-h/IMG_3025.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27kbhY3iJ1IQQfGgok_JCcD-qZRK37F0Q8t_tZHV_DJQcUJuJBlKCx1g-XgvJWAV-Gwt92E5cF0hBNNRLQsMfe18Ly9sEFGJkmCsX0j8zIEhIbOLB5-2XXwY5jrHy7wlwdOpASQ/s400/IMG_3025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411465662855611170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn_VsnEaTBQClzqMRVb00qfDQU3CukJq4IFzGMhG_9BWCVJtFVmIcc1g6zagA8cooNyYQNikqYHR90GKgv68FF10ZmUwyrh01gufWSj8TSFzdlcEJjCQ8lW5p3rDsIPQup8Kqh/s1600-h/IMG_3020.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn_VsnEaTBQClzqMRVb00qfDQU3CukJq4IFzGMhG_9BWCVJtFVmIcc1g6zagA8cooNyYQNikqYHR90GKgv68FF10ZmUwyrh01gufWSj8TSFzdlcEJjCQ8lW5p3rDsIPQup8Kqh/s400/IMG_3020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411465656839220850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_d_K42_5sCgHgNGmoNo6plv64moV3-_Fo0MXGu6OXTBydhFubQWHNAUj8UIgL3-TYfxeiyxJ4iyOJl1O86tFAvFxD_dU6pQYpYq-t5l8CxZG9X3xFz2d6c5Lh7-4DqB536B6NIA/s1600-h/IMG_3052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_d_K42_5sCgHgNGmoNo6plv64moV3-_Fo0MXGu6OXTBydhFubQWHNAUj8UIgL3-TYfxeiyxJ4iyOJl1O86tFAvFxD_dU6pQYpYq-t5l8CxZG9X3xFz2d6c5Lh7-4DqB536B6NIA/s400/IMG_3052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411466915714231426" border="0" /></a>In other news, a few days ago we woke up to the first snow of the season, which we were actually pretty excited about. We have a holly bush outside our front door, and I loved the look of the white snow, red berries and green leaves together:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP-RSNmkCKHG8EjjSY9xuzPY7FC7-6GxweAfMsQrqWJLKC0j0s_apFGSu-bhG79tvbzZO7d2c1HwjHzeUdvgr3d0-1dM_XyqH4bUvOC7dakgnHF3bkNhv-AA1kAIMDpsrah7GeLw/s1600-h/IMG_3064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP-RSNmkCKHG8EjjSY9xuzPY7FC7-6GxweAfMsQrqWJLKC0j0s_apFGSu-bhG79tvbzZO7d2c1HwjHzeUdvgr3d0-1dM_XyqH4bUvOC7dakgnHF3bkNhv-AA1kAIMDpsrah7GeLw/s400/IMG_3064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411466926394939922" border="0" /></a>The trees edging our apartment complex looked beautiful topped with a little snow:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFElARyzgGF2Zr9mEVbBvAV7UIKJS3jj2YRPkbdkCMLyxiqLmy9C3jSHWACGehauInlinITouSH3RoZkX9hNMjo7fT6jwweGTctW-66RyDoeAyyPea-1Qf6PlEPsKU8prZ_mI9A/s1600-h/IMG_3071.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFElARyzgGF2Zr9mEVbBvAV7UIKJS3jj2YRPkbdkCMLyxiqLmy9C3jSHWACGehauInlinITouSH3RoZkX9hNMjo7fT6jwweGTctW-66RyDoeAyyPea-1Qf6PlEPsKU8prZ_mI9A/s400/IMG_3071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411466928699890722" border="0" /></a>And Evan was thrilled to make some snowballs:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXpAs-lVUYgmezKQv9a2rQb92afJgh8aTShyphenhypheny_kvnd8z6BIPYBgevQRATATY28ZgocnMQ6IN7u2FkF5t9TcjjTQk7cZPsSqBNSF5vip-URBMPAaYzknZetUV7rCcPOQWj9Fn0UQ/s1600-h/IMG_3074.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXpAs-lVUYgmezKQv9a2rQb92afJgh8aTShyphenhypheny_kvnd8z6BIPYBgevQRATATY28ZgocnMQ6IN7u2FkF5t9TcjjTQk7cZPsSqBNSF5vip-URBMPAaYzknZetUV7rCcPOQWj9Fn0UQ/s400/IMG_3074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411466939877248402" border="0" /></a>The snow has since melted, but its brief appearance has helped get us in the mood for the holidays. We have a Christmas tree (which we'll hopefully have time to decorate soon), we've taken our Christmas photos, and we've started diving into Christmas books and movies and music. And in two weeks we'll be on our way to the west coast to spend a couple of weeks with Greg's family -- we can't wait!<br /><br />Oh, and by the way, I've started uploading many of my photos to <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/heidomerg/">Flickr</a> -- so far I've mostly put older photos up, but I'm hoping to keep up with posting newer photos there too. Check it out if you're interested!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-10088164945604910882009-11-19T13:53:00.003-05:002009-11-19T14:22:32.421-05:0028Today is my 28th birthday, and I realized this morning that while I always do birthday posts for the boys, and even once in a while for Greg, I've never done a real retrospective birthday post for myself. So I dragged up some old photo albums from the basement and scanned in every photo I could find from my past birthdays.<br /><br />Surprisingly, out of 28 years, I only have photographic evidence of 5 birthdays, and one of those was an especially unphotogenic year, so I'm only posting 4, plus a bonus photo. We'll start with the most recent and work our way backwards (because the cuteness factor increases the further back in time we go).<br /><br />Here is my ninth birthday, and let me tell you how cool I thought that buttoned bow was. You can't really tell from the photo, but my blouse also had some random colored buttons on it, and I was convinced that the combination of the two was the height of fashion. I believe this was the first year I was allowed to use the big knife to cut my own cake, which might explain why my mom is hovering so closely over me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbokV5bJFuUhmhD9w5q8A-f7zhilp1umVt6ao7ER5ZXMpJWnMy9jLQzBTji-EXFp1XkdwhY4dB-SWCLKGwBw06u9ee62RaagDyGhy1NAD9tt9xx9G-0AANSZLXLJvzsGZ50mW7g/s1600/HeidiNinthBirthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbokV5bJFuUhmhD9w5q8A-f7zhilp1umVt6ao7ER5ZXMpJWnMy9jLQzBTji-EXFp1XkdwhY4dB-SWCLKGwBw06u9ee62RaagDyGhy1NAD9tt9xx9G-0AANSZLXLJvzsGZ50mW7g/s400/HeidiNinthBirthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405890914217652482" border="0" /></a>This is my sixth birthday. That's my grandmother in the photo with me, my mom's mom -- I was born on her birthday and she was a constant fixture in that corner chair at all of our birthday parties. Other photos from this particular party, by the way, include photos of my presents, a little bunny family and a bunny-sized playground, which I posed and made my mom take pictures of for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7Qw_WXarxCuiu9hVVyhCde4icS77Lt-Gm9kj0JzpmuVIE6QT6jkcWCaW7UvU290aHBRQrC8I8Djg4nsZf_pvq4h9Yh5uk2XQsvXP5aQC96DXqUIuoqODuHVA-KRFMCppEdS42g/s1600/HeidiSixthBirthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7Qw_WXarxCuiu9hVVyhCde4icS77Lt-Gm9kj0JzpmuVIE6QT6jkcWCaW7UvU290aHBRQrC8I8Djg4nsZf_pvq4h9Yh5uk2XQsvXP5aQC96DXqUIuoqODuHVA-KRFMCppEdS42g/s400/HeidiSixthBirthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405890917016631810" border="0" /></a>My third birthday. I have two memories of this day: 1) I adored my cake. When my sisters were little, my mom made creative cakes for them, much like the cakes I make for my boys, but when I was a kid, she must not have loved me enough or something, I'm not quite sure, but this is the last cake I remember her making. 2) I loved my outfit. You can't see it in the photo, I think it's under my arm, but the vest had a little plaid cat on it to match the shirt. I loved that little cat. Clearly my fashion sense was still developing at that age.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmqGrOQDexzWgeeUv6k5TgbZ1pI9o3rP8q5OEdvF3oLCg98l3_4pOrkjQa2rY3jyuztAVRbJAVD2lIeH0hc35NfOHF1Blfx2geIPeiFwWLLR7W7GvVo_O0e3ZWYRPItZS2ZXp5Q/s1600/HeidiThirdBirthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmqGrOQDexzWgeeUv6k5TgbZ1pI9o3rP8q5OEdvF3oLCg98l3_4pOrkjQa2rY3jyuztAVRbJAVD2lIeH0hc35NfOHF1Blfx2geIPeiFwWLLR7W7GvVo_O0e3ZWYRPItZS2ZXp5Q/s400/HeidiThirdBirthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405890920801420018" border="0" /></a>My first birthday. Yes, I looked like a boy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3zGxLLU-IoA0GMyHG6C9cdfjiDvWbnzHEnhHBvydbXsaVWHDVwFo5sF4OjC5iXMDZHHyA6lFX8Om3-eXMIH7g-m6MKomOuphaQAiKIBQW7NPipOaycni9F7ZlOtEKFKFJTzwGA/s1600/HeidiFirstBirthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 395px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3zGxLLU-IoA0GMyHG6C9cdfjiDvWbnzHEnhHBvydbXsaVWHDVwFo5sF4OjC5iXMDZHHyA6lFX8Om3-eXMIH7g-m6MKomOuphaQAiKIBQW7NPipOaycni9F7ZlOtEKFKFJTzwGA/s400/HeidiFirstBirthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405890910161661714" border="0" /></a>And for a bonus, because I don't have any good photos of myself on my actual birth day or as a wee newborn, here's Baby Heidi:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4Gf2SJKKLOhN1GWUVNpMwsKaHVpSLL5nEZAi6-5fm-NiBs5aMN3wROLdQPU9Mnh5kK2p5MqBVQ9UeAcONDPuuNjzvrLFExMLH0tv0Eb1ZCB4gCvMK9WS3as3VqzAet_1jjgeNA/s1600/BabyHeidi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4Gf2SJKKLOhN1GWUVNpMwsKaHVpSLL5nEZAi6-5fm-NiBs5aMN3wROLdQPU9Mnh5kK2p5MqBVQ9UeAcONDPuuNjzvrLFExMLH0tv0Eb1ZCB4gCvMK9WS3as3VqzAet_1jjgeNA/s400/BabyHeidi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405890906024986258" border="0" /></a>And that's it for the birthday retrospective. I'm not sure where the other 24 years went, although I think I already mentioned my mom not loving me enough, so that might have had something to do with it. (Kidding, Mom! I love you!) I don't even have any fun birthday stories to share -- in the first place I have a terrible memory, and in the second place, birthdays for most of my life have been pretty low-key. If I remember correctly. Which I may not.<br /><br />This morning over breakfast James said, "Wow, Mom, in two years you'll be thirty!" I said, "Yep, and in twenty-two years I'll be fifty."<br /><br />"Yeah," said Evan, "and then you'll be dead."<br /><br />I replied that I'm planning to live until at <span style="font-style: italic;">least</span> a hundred and forty, but you know, half of that wouldn't be too bad as long as I get to spend all of my birthdays until then with the people I love.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-67509227631846318392009-11-18T22:37:00.007-05:002009-11-18T23:05:11.930-05:00catching up: moss islandThere are not many exciting places to go or things to do in central New York, where I grew up, but one of the most reliably fun and interesting activities in the area is to spend some time on Moss Island. Moss Island is an island in the middle of the Erie Canal in Little Falls, NY, and it's got some really unusual geological formations, which make it a popular spot for hiking and rock climbing.<br /><br />We've been to Moss Island a few times before, but this summer was the first time I have remembered to bring the camera there. I didn't get to explore the rocks as much as I might have liked, since we had four kids with us (my boys, my niece and my nephew), so the photos are a little limited in terms of the scope and variation of the features of the island, but it was still a nice afternoon, and cute kids make up for the lack of really stunning photos, right?<br /><br />The island is formed by a lock in the Erie Canal. To get there, you pass by (or through) a historic lock:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7OpZkkqT3wImZgLqOwrukHchAowlUavhCtxQLjDNBgpOksD8Rt2lKyCy3U302Hpm8pOQ0_83DS-2RD5mwVqf70sv59tD3T1Z2Ze7JDFHZ3JT9XoGwrjQpck935G6NKyhHGgxvg/s1600/101.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7OpZkkqT3wImZgLqOwrukHchAowlUavhCtxQLjDNBgpOksD8Rt2lKyCy3U302Hpm8pOQ0_83DS-2RD5mwVqf70sv59tD3T1Z2Ze7JDFHZ3JT9XoGwrjQpck935G6NKyhHGgxvg/s400/101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405655570896486162" border="0" /></a>Here's a glimpse of the modern lock. Moss Island is under all of those trees to the right. To access the island you have to walk across the lock, which is pretty cool. No photos, though, sorry.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3vYj2jb6RERiQbRRFWqvHuNOFt2D8Y_pRsSxHtRIZTFTo43rxRrGRKalAMuhNWPxGAgPhMtC7OtgFlNZPs-rptIwKcAV99y_ppY7nmsEcN8fohNp1X2lyZ_Lh5V5sT5z7XRtAQ/s1600/107.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3vYj2jb6RERiQbRRFWqvHuNOFt2D8Y_pRsSxHtRIZTFTo43rxRrGRKalAMuhNWPxGAgPhMtC7OtgFlNZPs-rptIwKcAV99y_ppY7nmsEcN8fohNp1X2lyZ_Lh5V5sT5z7XRtAQ/s400/107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405658062657168866" border="0" /></a>Once you're on the island, there are trails through the woods, and lots of places to hike and climb around on the rocks:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjba7ftICeWkyffb02OUUxZviDIOW74g0TTbjKSq6CzSNBQv9mP6kpbRSNPXpQDgu0WVCKQcE_4soU5qMPl8VUf8lN1MFfCkmVerHAmShYrcUJE87gIrRTEx9yLQMNZBC7oGbHT8g/s1600/115.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjba7ftICeWkyffb02OUUxZviDIOW74g0TTbjKSq6CzSNBQv9mP6kpbRSNPXpQDgu0WVCKQcE_4soU5qMPl8VUf8lN1MFfCkmVerHAmShYrcUJE87gIrRTEx9yLQMNZBC7oGbHT8g/s400/115.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405656850706937698" border="0" /></a>James, with Greg's help, did a little more advanced climbing:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yIDvUFjQopH8u7Er2NUvG_RMl3m1BEbQ6Gbzzf3Lif_7i-5xf7jm3kPIgKVEwDvJusZ3d09ckk8u9e7gUi016BZanvC9DguNSDBiEb1v2_BqJi_HtAzd1i9w7d3O1aEnCmRjNw/s1600/116.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yIDvUFjQopH8u7Er2NUvG_RMl3m1BEbQ6Gbzzf3Lif_7i-5xf7jm3kPIgKVEwDvJusZ3d09ckk8u9e7gUi016BZanvC9DguNSDBiEb1v2_BqJi_HtAzd1i9w7d3O1aEnCmRjNw/s400/116.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405655592579001202" border="0" /></a>Here's an example of some of the cool geological features you can find on the island. If memory serves, everything was carved by glaciers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kLQdH3EwgER4KTAeTS5qqSdhllbfj9ZZ_jvcXUn7Q6iSrosaEYLQSsdeikxDRIdbL5bv3IdqsCe4n0u_bTdgojdFmHtNuZe2B9M6dUlIa-OuMUO3mAu-try5wqeaek6640FfbA/s1600/132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kLQdH3EwgER4KTAeTS5qqSdhllbfj9ZZ_jvcXUn7Q6iSrosaEYLQSsdeikxDRIdbL5bv3IdqsCe4n0u_bTdgojdFmHtNuZe2B9M6dUlIa-OuMUO3mAu-try5wqeaek6640FfbA/s400/132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405655575611845426" border="0" /></a>Poor toddling baby Will couldn't keep up with the big kids, who were all eager to explore, and even take a break for a photo op once in a while:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6sqPJBu4qp63MNg38T84giQfIC7UdbESiXH-2oGCA-LJpiVScNfOr6s6FJ51PifNXGRhAu7k8di5av_ePhlXNac4r8pl6CA_Abuxtj2hwi3wdRX2a1qtyezKNHWt_pcW2CTTWQ/s1600/133.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6sqPJBu4qp63MNg38T84giQfIC7UdbESiXH-2oGCA-LJpiVScNfOr6s6FJ51PifNXGRhAu7k8di5av_ePhlXNac4r8pl6CA_Abuxtj2hwi3wdRX2a1qtyezKNHWt_pcW2CTTWQ/s400/133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405655585727953074" border="0" /></a>Because there's so much variation on the island, it's the kind of place you can visit again and again and still have fun and see new things. We're looking forward to returning as our kids get older, when we'll be able to do some more adventurous climbing. Until then, it's a nice place to walk and play.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-36778817403722105562009-11-17T12:19:00.002-05:002009-11-17T12:35:44.486-05:00evan's preschool photoThere are still a lot of photos and stories from summer that I swear I'm going to get around to posting someday, but for now I have to share Evan's preschool photo:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBbnElvjdDmpvDXRtUGHAPrEIUGiCfmktZS0V3bI5_TPUU4G3UFwNMkCrZhoq_r1jiuyjOzTQI6ZeGLUYC3wgqqJeP9jmAvLEpOSYqiuZsil2ggNsO2jTdFQdzQfB9FkE92fl9w/s1600/Evan+SchoolPic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBbnElvjdDmpvDXRtUGHAPrEIUGiCfmktZS0V3bI5_TPUU4G3UFwNMkCrZhoq_r1jiuyjOzTQI6ZeGLUYC3wgqqJeP9jmAvLEpOSYqiuZsil2ggNsO2jTdFQdzQfB9FkE92fl9w/s400/Evan+SchoolPic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405123652376544946" border="0" /></a>The photographer who came to the school for photos was really good with the kids and at getting natural smiles out of them. We weren't even planning on ordering photos, but I went in that morning to assist the photographer with setting up and supervising kids, and because of my (very minimal) help, she offered to give us some free photos. Looking at that face above, I'm glad we got them after all, because isn't that cute?<br /><br />The day we got the photos back, Evan's class had earned a trip to the treat jar. I told Evan he could have his treat after lunch. We were putting on our coats when Evan saw one of his friends eating her treat.<br /><br />"How come she gets to eat her candy?" he asked his friend's mother.<br /><br />"Oh, well, sometimes I spoil her a little," replied the mother.<br /><br />"Why do you spoil her?" Evan asked.<br /><br />"Because I love her," she replied.<br /><br />Evan looked at me, matter-of-factly: "Too bad you don't love me, Mom."<br /><br />It's a cute photo, but don't let that sweet smile fool you: he's still Evan.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-59687003438127040022009-10-27T10:38:00.007-05:002009-10-27T11:15:39.192-05:00summer fun: darien lakeOne of the perks of all the car shopping we did this summer was that a local chain of dealerships gave away tickets to a local amusement park for taking a test drive. Two test drives got us four free admission tickets to Darien Lake, which is about a 45-minute drive from our house. We'd never taken the kids to an amusement park, at least not at ages where they could fully enjoy everything the park had to offer, so we prepared ourselves for a day full of fun.<br /><br />One of the first things we did at the park was to go on the ferris wheel. It's a pretty big ferris wheel, and poor Evan was terrified:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCOW5ye4wHR3LLLOWSJibEELbVCrndx5QXgflU4Q1IFk5b8VBFDrMt6l-iIhCrpu_GzwTqGK_t7rOm9xqm_eYg5Wb1lZf8Eavk9ydde29M5ze2CDLv2Y572ufZwegrEkpiolk8A/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397307910430396466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCOW5ye4wHR3LLLOWSJibEELbVCrndx5QXgflU4Q1IFk5b8VBFDrMt6l-iIhCrpu_GzwTqGK_t7rOm9xqm_eYg5Wb1lZf8Eavk9ydde29M5ze2CDLv2Y572ufZwegrEkpiolk8A/s400/020.JPG" border="0" /></a>The top of the ferris wheel gave us a great view of the park, which even Evan eventually admitted was pretty cool, once we convinced him to open his eyes a little bit:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8ZHR2Ne6GekMGqhuK0ID_eB9mP2Vlf9Dn5bb9_4dqrl2cygcOsxeeCI00rZ2a_h2LmMGsUerPitj8jpT-vrpzj9xFjwdZNVO70lU2b5vTIMYIQuwZSFhUAaH5fZ36uDaU7dVoQ/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397307904732338866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ8ZHR2Ne6GekMGqhuK0ID_eB9mP2Vlf9Dn5bb9_4dqrl2cygcOsxeeCI00rZ2a_h2LmMGsUerPitj8jpT-vrpzj9xFjwdZNVO70lU2b5vTIMYIQuwZSFhUAaH5fZ36uDaU7dVoQ/s400/019.JPG" border="0" /></a> After the ferris wheel, Evan had no qualms about any of the rides. In fact, he was often disappointed because he didn't meet the height requirement for a lot of the rides. He was so eager to go on rides that while James and Greg did something for tall people, he opted to do a few rides by himself. I was told in no uncertain terms that I did <em>not</em> need to ride with him:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSp4pe_0zHV5-i3tUlWV8Y-NZxyJ-qcwU5NqIDUxvDA-7xVPR-ovu3JaRLD_x9Q5YtrNLUb0fNfCu_y4E14WTzskOu51nhF9wnLdHSjjNkLCNtuXi5hX5YMXMw1xucYSZ4FcD9fA/s1600-h/038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397306396876533762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSp4pe_0zHV5-i3tUlWV8Y-NZxyJ-qcwU5NqIDUxvDA-7xVPR-ovu3JaRLD_x9Q5YtrNLUb0fNfCu_y4E14WTzskOu51nhF9wnLdHSjjNkLCNtuXi5hX5YMXMw1xucYSZ4FcD9fA/s400/038.JPG" border="0" /></a> The favorite ride of both kids turned out to be the bumper cars, which they rode several times:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vkCTcDkyiPgp5RTlqnA4iLbVdn2EdQaeewt3VQaHwLDJjRQ7l-mAgpqmbqSsD5-TWsRmwo0Omeo_V7tAZOASj0XEYIViTkhgyQmjyyB60XotbP3bFEfQBTkE2TukvFv9G9f0Ag/s1600-h/052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397306404160104546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vkCTcDkyiPgp5RTlqnA4iLbVdn2EdQaeewt3VQaHwLDJjRQ7l-mAgpqmbqSsD5-TWsRmwo0Omeo_V7tAZOASj0XEYIViTkhgyQmjyyB60XotbP3bFEfQBTkE2TukvFv9G9f0Ag/s400/052.JPG" border="0" /></a> That is, the bumper cars were their favorite until we got to the water park. Thanks to an unusually cool summer, the day was not as warm as you'd ordinarily find in upstate New York in July, but that didn't stop our water monkeys. James spent a long time trying to master this climbing course over the water, and nearly made it:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwWDXR-nb_o1xTjGkpCkvlusWNwaS7DAvJN4RFvrGfVtLnC315pP607AyfmZtvTJG4dHWJ7oa2ztfQRhQZo8GA-olJ8hmUWwbRQyIBqlKQy03u4YmiMPWTQASkwFZT3dD54WrQw/s1600-h/080.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397307893158023218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwWDXR-nb_o1xTjGkpCkvlusWNwaS7DAvJN4RFvrGfVtLnC315pP607AyfmZtvTJG4dHWJ7oa2ztfQRhQZo8GA-olJ8hmUWwbRQyIBqlKQy03u4YmiMPWTQASkwFZT3dD54WrQw/s400/080.JPG" border="0" /></a> Most of the time they just played in the water, climbing and splashing:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHB5lYXX3MKtmj4e5uX3-bCmWzrWBqzsfU2CrNSq1rxXydxpnHpEZQ1yjroZv89xh0zKhjZCzLDrtzuIWxtAAMuTvH6VZAtVKzAyQMQysubsr7uKd3nayyvD-OhU-IX8761VjspA/s1600-h/071.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397306414300154898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHB5lYXX3MKtmj4e5uX3-bCmWzrWBqzsfU2CrNSq1rxXydxpnHpEZQ1yjroZv89xh0zKhjZCzLDrtzuIWxtAAMuTvH6VZAtVKzAyQMQysubsr7uKd3nayyvD-OhU-IX8761VjspA/s400/071.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdBr2RZ-LRVIhpaT5AWoF-uPmyEV9rToUvtvLQ_F0yxkeiD9a6XQrqhDd7viQhWhU4ZkHDH9X4TbNc_2MmqIydVW00xQcF1MoTLrnbgRxOnx_9O2hooD6zYSLcAsJhvcdQnrNXw/s1600-h/066.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397306411543719650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdBr2RZ-LRVIhpaT5AWoF-uPmyEV9rToUvtvLQ_F0yxkeiD9a6XQrqhDd7viQhWhU4ZkHDH9X4TbNc_2MmqIydVW00xQcF1MoTLrnbgRxOnx_9O2hooD6zYSLcAsJhvcdQnrNXw/s400/066.JPG" border="0" /></a> After about 8 hours of sun and water and play, we took the scenic route home and discovered a great pizza place in a small town along the way:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GCbiFXaLaIviJV2f6ISedRP_Q3JevakTxJqKPPbODl2I3dQc1qcx7IrUXglt3b79tRtBCcWeVPXtWmESKEJIZcOplasgGYCFzln7O7__vjrsShtvd1FxDS8VQFs2IP6jWiZF9g/s1600-h/086.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397309152448911938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GCbiFXaLaIviJV2f6ISedRP_Q3JevakTxJqKPPbODl2I3dQc1qcx7IrUXglt3b79tRtBCcWeVPXtWmESKEJIZcOplasgGYCFzln7O7__vjrsShtvd1FxDS8VQFs2IP6jWiZF9g/s400/086.JPG" border="0" /></a>This pizza place had amazing deep-dish pizza loaded with delicious goodness:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEXpgGmacoJdxFOW9XUhCbHuNUBz1cELoLGWiGbfVo1JIcMohXdQtdG5RDdkd21fWoKb9cEOFBHfGvzEeXWg6JE-6-EHfuxyEfFXQBotRYBBprKnIaxheOMNNn2d0nbbl2y04Dw/s1600-h/093.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397309156500711282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEXpgGmacoJdxFOW9XUhCbHuNUBz1cELoLGWiGbfVo1JIcMohXdQtdG5RDdkd21fWoKb9cEOFBHfGvzEeXWg6JE-6-EHfuxyEfFXQBotRYBBprKnIaxheOMNNn2d0nbbl2y04Dw/s400/093.JPG" border="0" /></a>Three-quarters of the family fell asleep on the ride home, full and exhausted and happy. We'll definitely be going back again, and hopefully Evan will be tall enough next time that none of us will have any disappointment in an otherwise perfect day.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-72207022055528442692009-10-19T14:12:00.002-05:002009-10-19T14:28:21.012-05:00my life as a chauffeurIt turns out that having both kids in school really hasn't changed much around here. A month into Evan's school year, we've settled into a routine that's working out pretty well for us. The only snag in our scheduling so far is a small one, but rather annoying: my free time during Evan's school time is not nearly as much as I expected it would be.<br /><br />See, he's in school for two and a half hours. Great, I thought at first, that's seven and a half hours a week! But as it turns out, once I factor in the time I spend driving Evan to school and then Greg to work and then picking Evan up again, I'm left with a little under two hours, which is hardly enough time to do anything. <br /><br />Examples of ways I've spent my less-than-two-hours on preschool days: grocery shopping and checking email; running and showering. And... that's it. On mornings I grocery shop I have very little time once I've gotten home and put everything away, and on mornings I run I have a little time afterward to stretch and cool down and shower. <br /><br />I don't mean to complain, though, I really don't. It's so nice having time to run, and being able to go to the grocery store without kids in tow. I guess my problem is just that I saw those free hours as an endless expanse of time which I could fill with any number of productive activities, and I'm quickly finding, to my dismay, that my time is not infinite at all, but still pretty limited. Before Evan started school I told everyone that my fall project during my new-found free time was going to be to make a quilt, but I've hardly had time to think about it, let alone start one!<br /><br />I'm spending a lot more time in the car these days as well, between driving both Greg and Evan three times a week, plus the driving I need to do for errands. That's partly due to the lousy weather we've been having though -- rain and unusually cold temperatures have been preventing Greg from riding his bike much this fall. Hopefully spring will be a little better for that.<br /><br />So, to answer everyone who's been asking what I'm doing with all my free time: the same stuff I always do, but also driving other people around a little more. Not a bad way to spend my mornings, though.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-79028322762047459572009-10-01T12:29:00.003-05:002009-10-01T13:31:14.387-05:00stories of preschoolersEven though Evan is in preschool now, he's only there three mornings a week, so we're still going to one of the community play classes for preschoolers on one of his off days. The main reason I decided to continue with this class in addition to preschool is because of how much Evan loves his teacher.<br /><br />She's not a real teacher; she's a Parks Department employee who leads the kids in some activities and supervises them while they play, makes sure they're using the equipment and toys properly, that sort of thing. It's a really unstructured environment, held in a school cafeteria covered with big mats and active toys. The teacher really enjoys the kids, though, and she spends a lot of time just playing with them, for which they all love her too.<br /><br />I'm about to tell more snobby parenting stories here, by the way. Because these classes are free or really cheap, you get a lot of different types of people attending. Let's just say that my bleeding-heart granola sensibilities are even more unusual here than they are at Suburban Preschool. I frequently find myself boggling over some of the things I overhear from other parents there.<br /><br />There was the grandmother who told her grandson to be nice to Evan or Evan's mommy would get mad at him and yell at him. Then she looked at me and whispered, "Really, yell at him." Whuh? Sorry, Grandma, but it's not my job to discipline your grandson for you!<br /><br />Then there was the father complaining that his daughter wouldn't go to sleep before 10 or 11 pm. They'd tried everything, he said, but it was no use, because his two-and-a-half year old daughter knew how to turn on the television in her bedroom and put on a DVD by herself, so despite their best efforts she still stayed up late watching DVDs. (The other parents listening to his complaint, by the way, responded with variations of, "Kids these days! They're so smart and technologically advanced!")<br /><br />This morning there was another grandmother, playing with her grandson on the mats. Five-year-old grandson picks up a block and Grandma says, "You can pretend it's a gun." Five-year-old points his "gun" at the teacher and starts yelling, "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" Teacher keels over, groaning. Little boy laughs: "Ha ha! I killed you!" Grandma suddenly gets very sharp with grandson: "That's not nice! We don't say that!" Little boy asks, "What?" all innocent-like. Grandma says, "We don't use the word 'kill'. That's not nice." Oh, okay, gotcha -- pretending to shoot a teacher with a gun is fine and dandy, but don't call it killing! We wouldn't want to be inappropriate!<br /><br />There are a lot of cute kids and normal people who attend these things, but some of these people are just so very different from me in their basic fundamental values and principles that I can't even comprehend what's happening inside their heads. Evan and I get along really well with the teacher, but some of these people make me wonder how she stands it sometimes. She was telling stories this morning too, of some of the more colorful kids saying things to her that just make her jaw drop at the rudeness of them.<br /><br />I worry, sometimes, about whether my kids are going to grow up to be good people (and these worries are based more in my own paranoia and lack of parenting confidence than they are in any signs from my kids that they're becoming sociopaths or something) but then sometimes, when I spend time with my kids' peers, I figure, even if my kids aren't Gandhi or Martin Luther King, Jr., at least they'll be better than the obnoxious jerks these kids' parents are setting them up to be.<br /><br />And then I feel guilty for thinking kids are jerks, and this is when I start to feel like a judgy snob. But I guess... I'm not really sure what my point is here. I'm not even sure I have one, really, so I suppose this is a good place to end the rambling.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-54492903646175337642009-09-28T10:12:00.004-05:002009-09-28T11:51:31.314-05:00preschoolEvan had his first day of preschool this morning. It was a strange feeling, dropping him off and getting back into the car with Greg beside me and an empty back seat behind us. James started nursery school for the first time when he was younger than Evan is now, yet Evan still seems so small.<br /><br />Camera/computer issues are still not resolved, but luckily Greg just got a fancy-pants new cell phone and he was able to get a first-day photo of Evan:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcXmgd2g6tsVHzp9-eewu-2i_HprKfmYuAJNrSQp6mZVvPz_89aDp2ZkNXyfXOvIvXhQKI3ArDH_Hlrpf2th95nYGygWG7kjYVK7dobWmwyIjeHAicadFLqJrvuI6YZzgE-63yg/s1600-h/2009-09-28+08.48.47.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcXmgd2g6tsVHzp9-eewu-2i_HprKfmYuAJNrSQp6mZVvPz_89aDp2ZkNXyfXOvIvXhQKI3ArDH_Hlrpf2th95nYGygWG7kjYVK7dobWmwyIjeHAicadFLqJrvuI6YZzgE-63yg/s400/2009-09-28+08.48.47.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386550724494730786" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our little baby, all grown up, with his new big-kid backpack and everything. Sniff.<br /><br />This will probably surprise no one, but Evan loved school, loved it to pieces. When I picked him up he ran to hug me and the first words out of his mouth were to ask me if we could dance ourselves home from school. Sweatshirt and backpack went on, and he was off, skipping down the hall toward the door.<br /><br />The ride home from school was all narration, because guess what they had for snack??? Raspberry yogurt! And Mrs. S. is the nicest teacher in the world, she's much nicer than James' teacher! And they had story time, but Mrs. S. didn't read a book, she did a puppet show! And there's another Evan in the class, and Evan M was a very good listener for Mrs. S. but Evan S. was, oh, a pretty good listener. School is good.<br /><br />We went to a welcome picnic at the school on Saturday, and it was a little weird. Greg and I are not so much the type of people to walk up to strangers and initiate small talk, so we kind of hung back and people-watched. The vibe from this school is different from that of James' preschool. Less granola, more Wal-mart. Comparisons: the snacks served at the new preschool were Capri Sun and store-bought cookies; snacks I have seen people feed their children at the old preschool were things like legumes and homemade whole-wheat crackers, and nothing less than 100% juice. Cars in the parking lot at the old school were mostly older minivans with liberal bumper stickers on the backs. Cars in the parking lot at the new school are much newer, shinier, and bigger, even including some SUVs. (I can't imagine anyone at the old school setting foot in an SUV.) <br /><br />We spent some time discussing the suburban feel of the place before it struck me that maybe now that we live in the suburbs and are sending our son to the suburban preschool, maybe we look like a typical suburban family too. I mean, is there any way to tell from looking at us that I literally make my own granola? I started remembering something about books and covers and resolved to keep my mouth shut until I actually met some of these people. Even rereading the last paragraph makes me feel like a big snob, so -- hey! A project to work on in my new-found free time: less snobbishness. <br /><br />So this school is not our ideal. It doesn't match, in my mind, the standard set by James' crunchy urban school. But the smile on my son's face, and the excited chatter all the way out the door and during the ride home have convinced me that it's a pretty good place for him to be.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-20106091950111069662009-09-15T15:39:00.005-05:002009-09-15T16:20:06.508-05:00farm visitsWe've had three opportunities to visit our CSA farm this year, and it's always a fun experience. We were there over the weekend, and once in June. I forgot to bring my camera this time, but I never posted the photos from June, so I'm still able to share all of our farm love.<br /><br />One of the great things about the farm is that they really encourage kids to get involved, so our kids have been able to help pick beans (both green and purple, which I'd never seen before, and sadly have no photos of), tomatoes (a literal rainbow of colors), potatoes (both red and blue), and peas:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipp7wIWdNLuqBx-3LB-zuRVlp2ZPJvBXuckD-SrEP3ifhJSVNpgFvxHSv0k5iSM7_xLvbOInS0Itaw8INq1MePr7O4i-CqwvEwipmHCFCpgrnajUM9zD8IptJNpkwQWB9ptD65GQ/s1600-h/128.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipp7wIWdNLuqBx-3LB-zuRVlp2ZPJvBXuckD-SrEP3ifhJSVNpgFvxHSv0k5iSM7_xLvbOInS0Itaw8INq1MePr7O4i-CqwvEwipmHCFCpgrnajUM9zD8IptJNpkwQWB9ptD65GQ/s400/128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381797753341909746" border="0" /></a>We picked from pea plants taller than my first-born:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5VEsvKG0nAcdiFt2K2dOetfpjY8z7ONHpZaYa-VYkf0tKHZEFvUXjDh47xcad5rNzW0TjBBQF8ty29kxmrcauh9VRKbKm9LDGdbBJkaNrwOBd7Hgo040PR3Bo9V5XgbgGWx_5g/s1600-h/131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5VEsvKG0nAcdiFt2K2dOetfpjY8z7ONHpZaYa-VYkf0tKHZEFvUXjDh47xcad5rNzW0TjBBQF8ty29kxmrcauh9VRKbKm9LDGdbBJkaNrwOBd7Hgo040PR3Bo9V5XgbgGWx_5g/s400/131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381797759145066562" border="0" /></a>...who is a very adorable helper, by the way:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiseHaPei-VdZLp10BuckO-t0ED7NlA_KJ19Uf4ZBN33-0OQpa9GhepyRsdcw-ZmkAJKf-QdshQzpA6MzXFEtCCKliJ1hamD-QY7kZFNrqQdyeka_AuBcTlUIvQeTp90v5BQ0UQ/s1600-h/134.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiseHaPei-VdZLp10BuckO-t0ED7NlA_KJ19Uf4ZBN33-0OQpa9GhepyRsdcw-ZmkAJKf-QdshQzpA6MzXFEtCCKliJ1hamD-QY7kZFNrqQdyeka_AuBcTlUIvQeTp90v5BQ0UQ/s400/134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381797765250895650" border="0" /></a>The farm is located in the same neighborhood as a buffalo farm, which we took a walk to visit. The buffalo were very shy of the large, noisy group of children who came to gawk at them, so I didn't get any really good photos, but a decent one:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVZBJeDXBxShSAgU-de8ZxO21NtOG4oUyV_AzHVK0vV0zR2kvEr3floqMgFBZKLQp7m-Sdgfth-dFG51rWshGL9ppeTI0vBWghOrS8oeKHXqH6h7vWSdVH3zlPX2ZGm8dQXmKIA/s1600-h/144.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVZBJeDXBxShSAgU-de8ZxO21NtOG4oUyV_AzHVK0vV0zR2kvEr3floqMgFBZKLQp7m-Sdgfth-dFG51rWshGL9ppeTI0vBWghOrS8oeKHXqH6h7vWSdVH3zlPX2ZGm8dQXmKIA/s400/144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381797771244715858" border="0" /></a>The farm has two dogs in residence, both of whom my children adore. This is Juno, who earns her keep by killing woodchucks, and is skeptical of children:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_QmaKtwHDipY74hwsOY9BxV9ikVz5GQamyQwfKS2kdLQnikHCzjzvS7bj907xyFkZO1jbbk6QZf1z1SOqS0L0MnxiY1kkCzr7fFzKPTvcBC2evp5V1RKp-w5TsAc08b1OtiSrg/s1600-h/177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_QmaKtwHDipY74hwsOY9BxV9ikVz5GQamyQwfKS2kdLQnikHCzjzvS7bj907xyFkZO1jbbk6QZf1z1SOqS0L0MnxiY1kkCzr7fFzKPTvcBC2evp5V1RKp-w5TsAc08b1OtiSrg/s400/177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381797776237719986" border="0" /></a>The farm is a lovely place to walk around and explore:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnG0iclvCRZ0h9NgL-wVPOG6mltS-RqkaGyzMdMEqR5EXCwHz6wbnSxcw30d4SqjBw6u9Jga4pLNfzLXQzuoRI5zktYIAObmFM-VmsJVBHrbkJTo2BUrggpuZup1adcHicabvTkA/s1600-h/185.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnG0iclvCRZ0h9NgL-wVPOG6mltS-RqkaGyzMdMEqR5EXCwHz6wbnSxcw30d4SqjBw6u9Jga4pLNfzLXQzuoRI5zktYIAObmFM-VmsJVBHrbkJTo2BUrggpuZup1adcHicabvTkA/s400/185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381798846933182674" border="0" /></a>You might find any number of bugs if you look hard enough at the ground:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIaT9oMufE3dtCKV0rwlybw5l4l8OuAYvWrCJzT_YYTyYpkpZbMeEeCo-wHsojgf40OPvK5EdmJow5ySb_muofdQG7_DgqGqfvey-Mh0yIpGNKPvFoavX0goslpd0uZQRNyjCgw/s1600-h/197.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIaT9oMufE3dtCKV0rwlybw5l4l8OuAYvWrCJzT_YYTyYpkpZbMeEeCo-wHsojgf40OPvK5EdmJow5ySb_muofdQG7_DgqGqfvey-Mh0yIpGNKPvFoavX0goslpd0uZQRNyjCgw/s400/197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381798875319553090" border="0" /></a>Or you may find a gigantic dandelion fluff:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlVHavqItJimSsbsbwb-DbkBn6DNbqLWELl8iKoS3PX65O3aqs8m3GP32JKJfQOXX76jmcW6FNoxGa4JLRXqVmdR3nhy_Fase2oD8-txPPDYDxUe-zPAZ0PE2wwk2WoJZMg5oAg/s1600-h/186.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlVHavqItJimSsbsbwb-DbkBn6DNbqLWELl8iKoS3PX65O3aqs8m3GP32JKJfQOXX76jmcW6FNoxGa4JLRXqVmdR3nhy_Fase2oD8-txPPDYDxUe-zPAZ0PE2wwk2WoJZMg5oAg/s400/186.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381798857242495522" border="0" /></a>Be careful, though -- your shoes will most likely get very wet and muddy during a day at the farm, especially if it's rained nearly every day of the summer:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNxVcxdbh0uKrqt3QvU1-0slkU1S8KdxSJNUxq_w0eo59CFSKcSRA_LDWQCtlrsiAMSvZZwBV_EvCGBpZOMquUFSPl5OjbGcTbE8AHwlSq-L9yFungxJBqOCEjEu0Vnmfeh0q6w/s1600-h/187.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNxVcxdbh0uKrqt3QvU1-0slkU1S8KdxSJNUxq_w0eo59CFSKcSRA_LDWQCtlrsiAMSvZZwBV_EvCGBpZOMquUFSPl5OjbGcTbE8AHwlSq-L9yFungxJBqOCEjEu0Vnmfeh0q6w/s400/187.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381798865830294562" border="0" /></a>All in all it's a pretty beautiful place to be:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNMYY7IkXqD-6KQLuor-P_DYjYofV5zOaphBQRE6z-qzVUSXcXyZwT6RbKb4ZfHz35HzuT0P5gOAzkLq_uSzD7Rt9oN1oVGu1gCkVDZcuvFiwN0SLFKHG1woDt_WWAtOD5Dz3VQ/s1600-h/189.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNMYY7IkXqD-6KQLuor-P_DYjYofV5zOaphBQRE6z-qzVUSXcXyZwT6RbKb4ZfHz35HzuT0P5gOAzkLq_uSzD7Rt9oN1oVGu1gCkVDZcuvFiwN0SLFKHG1woDt_WWAtOD5Dz3VQ/s400/189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381798868612946418" border="0" /></a>Each time we've been to the farm we've been able to have lunch with the farmers and their apprentices, as well as with other CSA members. The farmers always put together a delicious salad consisting of greens and vegetables taken out of the ground that morning.<br /><br />It has really been a wonderful experience for us, getting so close to our food and the people who grow it. The kids complain a little about being put to work, but then I watch them both dig into farm-fresh salads with enthusiasm, sometimes asking for seconds, and I hope years from now they will remember these visits fondly.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-10743528498293560832009-09-11T10:03:00.002-05:002009-09-11T10:26:33.389-05:00end of summerIt's come to my attention that there are people out there who actually miss it when I don't update my blog, which I really hadn't guessed. I stopped updating during my busy summer and people <em>noticed</em> and <em>said</em> things to me, so here I am, back to the blog. <br /><br />It's not quite fall yet, but it's starting to feel that way. The days are suddenly noticeably cooler, trees in the neighborhood are starting to glow red and orange, and James started second grade on Wednesday. Second grade! I do not have the requisite first-day-of-school photo to share with you, for two reasons: 1, the laptop is having issues and I can't use it to do the whole photo thing, and 2, I forgot to take the requisite first-day-of-school photo. I actually brought the camera to the bus stop on Wednesday, but neglected to put the battery in it first. Yesterday I had every intention of taking a second-day photo and passing it off as a first-day photo, but the bus came ten minutes early and what with all the sprinting to catch it I didn't get a chance. Today I just gave up.<br /><br />Second grade, by the way, is great, and Mrs. F. is his <em>best teacher ever</em>. And I don't know if it's maturity or something they're putting in the water at school, but James came home and <em>voluntarily</em> told me all about his day. No prying! Questions answered with multiple syllables! I hardly knew what to do with the sudden influx of information!<br /><br />When James first got on the bus and went to school, Evan and I went inside and I asked him what he'd like to do all day. He answered, "I don't know what to do without James." Heart-meltingly sweet, I know, but not entirely true. No James means no competition for the Legos, which is mostly how Evan has been spending his time this week.<br /><br />Evan is due to start school soon too. He was supposed to start next week, but we got a letter from the school informing us that the church in which the school is housed is having roofing work done, which includes asbestos removal, so school doesn't start until the end of the month. We did, however, get to go in to the school to meet Evan's teacher (apparently asbestos exposure of under half an hour is okay?) and she read to him and gave him presents, so he's totally sold on this whole preschool thing.<br /><br />Evan, by the way, suddenly seems so much older. He's had a growth spurt over the last several months, and we cut his hair short, and finally he really looks like a preschooler. The baby fat is melting and the traces of babyhood in his appearance are fading away as well. It's been weird to witness such dramatic changes in a kid who's always grown so gradually.<br /><br />We had a lot of fun this summer, and hopefully I'll remember to get back into the habit of blogging to share some of our many photos and stories.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-12106806049033707932009-07-03T10:52:00.005-05:002009-07-03T11:09:19.977-05:00friday photos: belated birthday editionI realized that I did my annual birthday letter to Evan, but I forgot to post any photos from our birthday festivities. So, as long as I'm still not uploading photos from the new camera, I can at least catch you up on some older photos.<br /><br />Evan requested a strawberry Pikachu cake this year. Not one of my prettiest efforts, I'm afraid, but it was one of the most delicious birthday cakes I've made. He was pretty happy with it, which is what counts.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObI50iSaxRvspthm__s7ApEl2haTGCc3O8mj0w7Jfu8GwxMece6IooRRjCxA4tv_xzpnXB5bBOsAPnSRQS9eMi9OqMQ-Ue1xyqp8nweN-pYeMQVstx9NgJ6PREVQ9ye7ejdadKg/s1600-h/IMG_8715.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObI50iSaxRvspthm__s7ApEl2haTGCc3O8mj0w7Jfu8GwxMece6IooRRjCxA4tv_xzpnXB5bBOsAPnSRQS9eMi9OqMQ-Ue1xyqp8nweN-pYeMQVstx9NgJ6PREVQ9ye7ejdadKg/s400/IMG_8715.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354263786393359938" border="0" /></a>He got not one, not two, but THREE giant Star Wars Lego sets for his birthday. This was by far the most exciting birthday event. Here he is showing off all three:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6g5z_sS8OxVWC5ZTp-VOHf_4ggXbSgMK-RaZB37xx5MHDjfMvSnNE0Ae-sxuW7KzDfOwZRF3XFTPRxbz1PLSD5NIMQnq8IHtEycrFY51b4lBm40WhjiSFGPTscTCzDGodKhDPUg/s1600-h/IMG_8703.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6g5z_sS8OxVWC5ZTp-VOHf_4ggXbSgMK-RaZB37xx5MHDjfMvSnNE0Ae-sxuW7KzDfOwZRF3XFTPRxbz1PLSD5NIMQnq8IHtEycrFY51b4lBm40WhjiSFGPTscTCzDGodKhDPUg/s400/IMG_8703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354263772311297954" border="0" /></a>And here he is with one of the finished (or nearly finished) products. Which one, I have no idea. I'm not up to date on my Star Wars ships.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHM6d3uqlQCYZkxcRtmLCQdWuGYMt_wr0629gglcDNtEaB4anEGp96dz9p_Uu-IguAOaRUWJ9FTQeziv_XuHI0HBOaW2ygHC7xTF-6rqm7XzxOnr2CUP863Nxl5d1C_RleYZB61g/s1600-h/IMG_8762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHM6d3uqlQCYZkxcRtmLCQdWuGYMt_wr0629gglcDNtEaB4anEGp96dz9p_Uu-IguAOaRUWJ9FTQeziv_XuHI0HBOaW2ygHC7xTF-6rqm7XzxOnr2CUP863Nxl5d1C_RleYZB61g/s400/IMG_8762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354263793278836610" border="0" /></a>Now that he's four, he's decided he's big enough to really ride his balance bike, and he's been practicing coasting with no feet:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYpNmhPXLAkqaCKlcsT79N9-EqvaLl-zn4hN741-YdSifak7JmirICqW02ZasNAXftRk6Fi_LCoFXUzPdzVJyVh96YMjqA3weX5NIEcrrE5JZa5XZoEUXLw2lmvavZrQMsMV5jw/s1600-h/IMG_8755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYpNmhPXLAkqaCKlcsT79N9-EqvaLl-zn4hN741-YdSifak7JmirICqW02ZasNAXftRk6Fi_LCoFXUzPdzVJyVh96YMjqA3weX5NIEcrrE5JZa5XZoEUXLw2lmvavZrQMsMV5jw/s400/IMG_8755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354263789295720850" border="0" /></a>The funnest part of any birthday is the balloons, obviously. But what's more fun than playing with balloons? Drawing scary faces on them! (Ignore the smiles; I think it's the teeth that's supposed to make them scary.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3obH9EQbLYwAzZebxM052TwKCwSiwdmYXU0CJVhGzv1MNBSeYtjlB8U0Y1U-CgKaEudgkii5d-fGQ8QetK8H9Gmt-yyFFO5Nc9VrpFNSUy878GzeM_kG966YD_imMtkz0o-1OsQ/s1600-h/IMG_8765.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3obH9EQbLYwAzZebxM052TwKCwSiwdmYXU0CJVhGzv1MNBSeYtjlB8U0Y1U-CgKaEudgkii5d-fGQ8QetK8H9Gmt-yyFFO5Nc9VrpFNSUy878GzeM_kG966YD_imMtkz0o-1OsQ/s400/IMG_8765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354264414662218914" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtOui7QjGTn6Kp0mi_7_iPicAThtAoubMO_bvg3f5qNkFm7zHum2vyPmDQHsX24JqAjV3Tt-MotP2fx2VpWkjHfD9FQJnxmHDPlXyANvl5EvmxFu7ebQ1ivzgUThk9N5oQifLFQ/s1600-h/IMG_8763.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtOui7QjGTn6Kp0mi_7_iPicAThtAoubMO_bvg3f5qNkFm7zHum2vyPmDQHsX24JqAjV3Tt-MotP2fx2VpWkjHfD9FQJnxmHDPlXyANvl5EvmxFu7ebQ1ivzgUThk9N5oQifLFQ/s400/IMG_8763.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354264410027510898" border="0" /></a>All in all I think it was a pretty enjoyable day for the birthday boy.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-10048750366736918542009-07-02T12:29:00.003-05:002009-07-02T14:04:56.567-05:00nature's bounty<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7z9xwP9ozdba8G2DIntB9mnS55zgMGTc-nPy0ki_RAGq5ye5ACyurhLi2GJwYUbgThIaRHLEPWt0UpvE8P9KKeByGUiT3tAuDeZo_jGZvRgtXWlZiyEuOtq9h0TAqtEvofsD07g/s1600-h/IMG_8698.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7z9xwP9ozdba8G2DIntB9mnS55zgMGTc-nPy0ki_RAGq5ye5ACyurhLi2GJwYUbgThIaRHLEPWt0UpvE8P9KKeByGUiT3tAuDeZo_jGZvRgtXWlZiyEuOtq9h0TAqtEvofsD07g/s400/IMG_8698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353927709029013106" border="0" /></a><br />We've been getting vegetables from our CSA for six weeks now. It has been a really interesting experience. You sign up months ahead of time and agree to pay a certain amount for months of fresh, seasonal, organic produce, but you never know, beyond a general understanding of what's in season at any given time, exactly what you'll be getting or how much.<br /><br />We're splitting our share of produce with a friend of mine, so the amount we're getting is pretty manageable, most of the time, and sometimes not enough (for example, splitting an average-sized bunch of asparagus in half, where one half goes to a solo person and the other half goes to my family of four often leaves us wanting more). Up to this point, the spring and early summer have been heavy with leafy green vegetables. I have to tell you, we are eating more leafy green vegetables than ever before, including some things we've never seen or heard of. At first it was a little intimidating and overwhelming, but now that I've gotten used to this abundance of green, I'm wondering what I'll do when it's over for the season.<br /><br />We've gotten plenty of common produce items: asparagus, lettuce, kale, Swiss chard, spinach, peas in pods, rhubarb, thyme, chives, onions, dill, carrots, radishes. But we've gotten some more unusual items as well. The photo above is of one of the first salads I made this year, created entirely with our farm vegetables. It features two kinds of lettuce, spinach, edible weeds (such as purslane, chick weed and lambsquarter -- I still am not sure what any of those look or taste like, even after eating them), radishes, and chive blossoms. Did you know chive blossoms are edible? They taste very much like concentrated, intense chive flavor, and, much like a strong red onion, will leave a taste in your mouth for hours after eating.<br /><br />Other new-to-us foods that we've received include watercress, mizuna, bok choi, Chinese cabbage, parsnips, tarragon, pea greens (the leaves from pea plants), garlic scapes, garlic greens, radicchio, senposai, and arugula. Chances are, if you've never heard of something on that list, it's probably a leafy green vegetable.<br /><br />It's exciting, learning what to do with all these new foods. I'm glad, too, that my kids are getting used to eating all manner of green and/or unusual things in all kinds of dishes, and that, for the most part, they do so willingly. And the fact that everything we're eating from the farm is organic is just a bonus.<br /><br />As soon as I get some photos uploaded, you'll get to hear about our second trip to the farm, where we got to learn more about where the food on our plates is coming from.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-12711998161834916012009-06-29T10:27:00.002-05:002009-06-29T10:56:18.713-05:00summerSchool ended last week, and so far we are having what you might call a blissful summer vacation. The weather has been gorgeous -- sunny, warm but not hot, with enough rain to keep things green, and a few nice thunderstorms. The kiddos are playing outside daily, and are fairly committed to their daily chore schedule. Mostly they're happy because I'm being more permissive about video games and computer games.<br /><br />We really started our summer fun before school was out though, with weekend activities like strawberry picking, a Father's Day visit to the science museum to see some nature films, Father's Day brunch at our favorite diner, and two or three trips a week to various parks where Greg and I have been playing lots and lots of frisbee.<br /><br />Greg is busily preparing for his defense, but his schedule is much more flexible and relaxed now than it was in the weeks before he turned in his thesis, so we're all enjoying spending more time together. He's arranged to keep working at the university once he's officially done, continuing to do research for his adviser, but with a significantly higher salary and more regular hours.<br /><br />The expected increase in income has us shopping already. We recently bought a new camera, only to discover after bringing it home that our computer and printer are both so outdated that they aren't compatible with the camera's memory card and software. Luckily Greg's laptop is compatible, although it's going to be a bit of an inconvenience to upload all of our photos to the laptop and then transfer them to the desktop. (In other words, no photos for the blog for the time being.) This has gotten us thinking about upgrading to a new computer in the near future as well.<br /><br />We've also started car shopping. We've had our current car for five or six years, but it's a 15-year-old vehicle and we've had to make a lot of repairs and replace a lot of parts in the last couple of years, so we're finally upgrading to a car from this century. Interestingly enough, looking at new cars has made us value our old wagon even more: our two requirements for a new vehicle are that it has at least as much space as our current vehicle, and gets the same or better gas mileage, two criteria which are surprisingly difficult to find in one vehicle.<br /><br />Even car shopping has been a lot of fun though. The first place we looked was at a tent sale at the local mall, where they served free food, and where a clown provided free balloon hats, candy, toys and face paint for our kids. Another chain of dealerships is running a special where you can get free tickets to a local amusement park just for test-driving a vehicle. They must be getting desperate to sell cars in this economy, but we'll take it.<br /><br />I don't expect to be blogging much this summer -- there's just too much to do to spend much time inside at the computer. For once I'm actually feeling ambitious, and I want to take advantage of that while it lasts, as ambition is not one of my stronger qualities. I hope you're all enjoying your summers as well!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-40429821818129107562009-06-10T13:22:00.004-05:002009-06-13T11:31:34.977-05:00big news!Just a quick update. Most of you reading this probably already know, but: Greg handed in his thesis! He has a month to prepare his defense, and then, he will be finished with grad school. Finished! It's possible he'll have to make some corrections to his dissertation after the fact, but he will be able to get a real job, with a salary large enough to support our family, and we'll actually get to see him every day.<br /><br />So! Exciting!<br /><br />James and Evan came in from playing on Monday afternoon to see Greg sitting on the couch. "Dad!" they cried, "Are you done?" When he replied in the affirmative, James asked, "Does this mean you'll get to stay home all the time now?" Sadly, no, but he will be home a lot more often now that he's not spending all of his waking hours writing.<br /><br />So things are good. We're feeling a little more relaxed now, and starting to make plans for the summer now that we have a time frame to work around. We'll keep you posted as to what's next!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-46330251948745201842009-06-05T12:08:00.006-05:002009-06-05T16:42:19.402-05:00four years oldDear Evan,<br /><br />Today you're four years old. This is an important birthday -- this year was the first year you've really understood what birthdays mean, and you've been waiting for this day for a long time. Since James' birthday back in January, every time we've gotten a new Lego catalog you've gone through and pointed out to us which sets you wanted for your birthday. For the last week, you've been counting down the days.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCEjUIou9ElHgb2YeUFRRCSdVIUwDbxdJWDs-AosTxUfEZxcohrBLwfMkCs9aRhNpG92lAIZ7WYL7HPfLnFxX0t8oKX1nk2qaqAGJ6a6EeHVDhFtws4O0ayOpF18x0iyr8D8YAg/s1600-h/IMG_8676.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCEjUIou9ElHgb2YeUFRRCSdVIUwDbxdJWDs-AosTxUfEZxcohrBLwfMkCs9aRhNpG92lAIZ7WYL7HPfLnFxX0t8oKX1nk2qaqAGJ6a6EeHVDhFtws4O0ayOpF18x0iyr8D8YAg/s400/IMG_8676.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343934125283563906" border="0" /></a>When Grandma arrived this morning to spend your birthday weekend with us, she asked you how old you are now. You replied three, and wouldn't admit to being four yet. Eventually we were able to understand that you didn't think you actually turned four until you had the birthday cake. Eventually we were able to make you understand that this isn't true.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50LKRGNgciASyJzZwPqPQGNv3uk7MuVYfvrZ7pb-h6x2Y8m-XIsjaFVden8SyYNHo4EQqbFyXcQc2o6WjXjzsfKPy7e-dp1nexF7glaUrColtBcN88zeGd0aVfG81fMLDN5RO5g/s1600-h/3081573762_5eec1fef26.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50LKRGNgciASyJzZwPqPQGNv3uk7MuVYfvrZ7pb-h6x2Y8m-XIsjaFVden8SyYNHo4EQqbFyXcQc2o6WjXjzsfKPy7e-dp1nexF7glaUrColtBcN88zeGd0aVfG81fMLDN5RO5g/s400/3081573762_5eec1fef26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343910034918685762" border="0" /></a>You've grown up a lot this year. I'm not foolish enough to tempt fate by saying that your tantrums are completely over, but I really think we're getting close. We can even go whole <span style="font-style: italic;">days</span> without tantrums, sometimes! You're learning to control your temper, and I am so proud of you when I watch you struggle not to scream or flail or explode, when you express your emotions with words, because teaching to do those things has been a very long, hard road for both of us, and I think you're finally coming to the end of that road.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMQStOiy6Ljdco5C01UOH5hh5bxtOFY13HTfPcN8oWu-gvat16QiB6pVkSaga6Zx7nAYifkhF_WCEnlg6HBcmn4RB7sYqTRU7W0_fS3ngnjGn-HCIZTWTSYZ8voonVgbF_G-nuw/s1600-h/IMG_7538.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMQStOiy6Ljdco5C01UOH5hh5bxtOFY13HTfPcN8oWu-gvat16QiB6pVkSaga6Zx7nAYifkhF_WCEnlg6HBcmn4RB7sYqTRU7W0_fS3ngnjGn-HCIZTWTSYZ8voonVgbF_G-nuw/s400/IMG_7538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343910031167664402" border="0" /></a>Lately you like to hear stories about what you were like as a baby. I tell you that we used to call you Monkey Paws, Crazy Eyes, Tomato Face. I tell you that you've always been a picky eater, and you've always been a reluctant, light sleeper. I tell you that your first words were "ball" and "car" and that you loved mama's milk and that you've always adored your brother and you just eat up every word.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ76ZJnQ-rpkmc3dPeaDF-UNbRMC6Z1BCQQRgWfIhiCOQHS9rvakN8jtisRQTXCJp3xKupvXN85b4vmArcxd5whzblv3tiB_CwBKUZGUlYAfFyTcANAiIsHhlW71j3KMoKsP0AwQ/s1600-h/IMG_7457.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ76ZJnQ-rpkmc3dPeaDF-UNbRMC6Z1BCQQRgWfIhiCOQHS9rvakN8jtisRQTXCJp3xKupvXN85b4vmArcxd5whzblv3tiB_CwBKUZGUlYAfFyTcANAiIsHhlW71j3KMoKsP0AwQ/s400/IMG_7457.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343910022323251330" border="0" /></a>Your imagination continues to surprise me. You're so inventive, creating names, putting together costumes, designing Lego ships, constantly narrating stories. Now that you're learning to draw recognizable pictures, your creativity is blossoming even more as you color monsters and Pokemon. You and your brother spend hours together inventing and creating and designing and building.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgip6itKW_s8x-1VIWaXULWMjOtSl2ZNKfzCwYEQHK3OowTeOu7Abfb9e9JWafDJLyzFl83OkqmhbgQfvCFMCt9ZVqwRs67BmqD9Ws2FSpyP7gVcadFtKjhQBiqmwhFUlvPnXlxUg/s1600-h/IMG_7488.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgip6itKW_s8x-1VIWaXULWMjOtSl2ZNKfzCwYEQHK3OowTeOu7Abfb9e9JWafDJLyzFl83OkqmhbgQfvCFMCt9ZVqwRs67BmqD9Ws2FSpyP7gVcadFtKjhQBiqmwhFUlvPnXlxUg/s400/IMG_7488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343910028140103362" border="0" /></a>You are still stubborn, still willful and determined. Now that your tantrums are fewer, though, I'm coming to value these qualities in you because it shows you know your own mind. You're full of confidence. You hate being told what to do, and you won't take no for an answer. I keep reminding myself that someday your persistence will be an asset in achieving whatever you set your mind to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCxFKy76LYVpa48C6l-DHE325JxESwu-vmPjyKboskS1NTMUK2053nHuSQNgiWurBRL3hRrmU7ww6qWzbu9IYAZThMypluSl6hA9UcGMOw9sCl_EudIYlgeNmK7JLQB5t0fttmg/s1600-h/IMG_6618.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCxFKy76LYVpa48C6l-DHE325JxESwu-vmPjyKboskS1NTMUK2053nHuSQNgiWurBRL3hRrmU7ww6qWzbu9IYAZThMypluSl6hA9UcGMOw9sCl_EudIYlgeNmK7JLQB5t0fttmg/s400/IMG_6618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343910017854674882" border="0" /></a>Physically you're still spirited and rambunctious. You run almost everywhere. At the community play classes we went to this year, you tested your physical capabilities and limitations, often threatening to give me a heart attack with your stunts, jumping, leaping, diving on the mats. Any time I asked you to stop doing something dangerous, you'd look at me with that pouty lip and say, "But <span style="font-style: italic;">Mom</span>, it's so much fun!" At playgrounds, other parents watch you with worried eyes as you climb structures they don't think someone your size should be able to climb. You like to tell people that you're small, but you're <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> strong.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLm-8DVybdIXYKXN0zgedgp0MlppmD27YruK2Dl32iPyjOXwZHcc2Kx5_3ofZ_EfzaTuKWutMAXGZ9q-HurMeP2TxO-3UltSLhgaT2RO6MsG60WDdpFgrxddSVKrp_JBgrUu-3Q/s1600-h/IMG_8115.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLm-8DVybdIXYKXN0zgedgp0MlppmD27YruK2Dl32iPyjOXwZHcc2Kx5_3ofZ_EfzaTuKWutMAXGZ9q-HurMeP2TxO-3UltSLhgaT2RO6MsG60WDdpFgrxddSVKrp_JBgrUu-3Q/s400/IMG_8115.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343934119585652274" border="0" /></a>It's been a difficult year for you in some ways, now that your brother is going to school full days. Learning to play without James alongside you, and learning the patience of waiting for that bus to arrive every afternoon have been hard for you. Yet you've done it. You two are still best friends, and you still miss him while he's away, but I think you've grown into yourself more as an individual without James. You can't wait to go to school now yourself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt13l1PG_EXnYSI2j8TDIx34xXozMnL4h7TsW28UsVses-iPBVjfdjGSQoZx2_syjU1-tALO7eVxJFIMqtuu47aQ5YE6Qa4sBgmxUuUF-ZSMW98KbsqfVdTN03X7boS1PR35IaWQ/s1600-h/IMG_8248.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt13l1PG_EXnYSI2j8TDIx34xXozMnL4h7TsW28UsVses-iPBVjfdjGSQoZx2_syjU1-tALO7eVxJFIMqtuu47aQ5YE6Qa4sBgmxUuUF-ZSMW98KbsqfVdTN03X7boS1PR35IaWQ/s400/IMG_8248.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343958875433425986" border="0" /></a>We've had a good year, Evan. Maybe even our best. You're learning so much: you can write your name, you can read simple words, you've learned to dress yourself and do some simple chores around the house. You hardly nap anymore, and are learning to deal with being overtired. You are naturally very resistant to change, but you are learning to be a little more flexible when it comes to trying new foods. (We're still working on your clothing and shoe issues.)<br /><br />Also, this morning, after years of thinking you'd never be able to, you learned how to roll your tongue:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfCp5qnY3-DAS7CCL0n209CtcQDbnXYA5hj96s0tY41XT-MOsxtSj4lXc6o8WI8HBCQdmrNPPk9Tjmme7KCjkDbLfjNx6eRiaOJ4PBhArpmwEN1oFRB2Z0lDJ35_f8N49EcfLRg/s1600-h/IMG_8702.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfCp5qnY3-DAS7CCL0n209CtcQDbnXYA5hj96s0tY41XT-MOsxtSj4lXc6o8WI8HBCQdmrNPPk9Tjmme7KCjkDbLfjNx6eRiaOJ4PBhArpmwEN1oFRB2Z0lDJ35_f8N49EcfLRg/s400/IMG_8702.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343934131133941890" border="0" /></a>Four years old, Evan, but I'm still allowed to call you my baby. I love you.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-57340588064575998552009-05-29T09:16:00.003-05:002009-05-29T09:28:50.042-05:00friday photos: who's that kid? editionI think we all know by now how awful my camera is, so let's just ignore the poor quality, shall we?<br /><br />Big news this week: we upgraded our eldest son to the newest, sleekest model:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZc1CQ0coIQYWw-5JQnuvpwKumsryZ3sq8LycaIIOPub55YIkfK3eB924DkyazLMGNlJcvl3oiDt_uTZqRR_pckHv8e45HtEoDfStZrEOYhHAFIvXBPgZdCstzdBciAmx4fSjLA/s1600-h/IMG_8690.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZc1CQ0coIQYWw-5JQnuvpwKumsryZ3sq8LycaIIOPub55YIkfK3eB924DkyazLMGNlJcvl3oiDt_uTZqRR_pckHv8e45HtEoDfStZrEOYhHAFIvXBPgZdCstzdBciAmx4fSjLA/s400/IMG_8690.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341250336694251314" border="0" /></a>Truly, I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful and striking his eyes are underneath all that hair.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BU22QNLdawRGGRbNRR-i8bmwWEstVypQK6QRtO7zpuAzv3UA8eaAqssWNgPAU-YM8XUlzakVSXRjInL_hMc-rXXz805UcG8oil1grnRi0PtVbSmBaii8XJgcdKgzZq86HMrxtQ/s1600-h/IMG_8691.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BU22QNLdawRGGRbNRR-i8bmwWEstVypQK6QRtO7zpuAzv3UA8eaAqssWNgPAU-YM8XUlzakVSXRjInL_hMc-rXXz805UcG8oil1grnRi0PtVbSmBaii8XJgcdKgzZq86HMrxtQ/s400/IMG_8691.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341250329929663698" border="0" /></a>My foot is in this photo just for reference. Who knew a seven-year-old could possess SO much hair? We could build ourselves a cat out of that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pQ1NfTx-Vg2ENylThzqQXtUSgo2OuuZg_iYFY8prGA1IxFWPoyZUsBTvNeqpStuNR82mWfFaLK7PTTIW3oKFCvzBO8ryLIK4ocNxR11xFxASx2zPZVWj8HoafqsX8O8el7M0uw/s1600-h/IMG_8688.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pQ1NfTx-Vg2ENylThzqQXtUSgo2OuuZg_iYFY8prGA1IxFWPoyZUsBTvNeqpStuNR82mWfFaLK7PTTIW3oKFCvzBO8ryLIK4ocNxR11xFxASx2zPZVWj8HoafqsX8O8el7M0uw/s400/IMG_8688.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341250326818552706" border="0" /></a>For the record, his distaste for nicknames carries over to those poking fun at his new haircut. I was immediately chastised for trying to call him Baldy. He's very happy with his new look, though, reporting on how much quicker it is to take a shower and how differently his bike helmet fits now.<br /><br />Next up: Evan's been asking for the same haircut, so we might have two little baldies on our hands soon. Just remind me not to call them that to their faces.Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-49605062353097409692009-05-26T12:19:00.003-05:002009-05-26T12:29:50.825-05:00midweek recipesThe bad news: I'm discontinuing my Weekend Recipe feature. (Remember that? How I used to sporadically post recipes once in a while?)<br /><br />The good news: I'm compiling all of my recipes online, in a separate blog, found here: <a href="http://heidorecipes.blogspot.com/">Heidi's Collected Recipes</a>.<br /><br />Mostly this is for myself. My previous system for recipes was to write everything down in one of four notebooks used for recipes, or on random post-its and scraps of paper. By putting everything online I'll be eliminating the hassle of carrying notebooks with me when I travel, as well as the time it takes me to flip through any (or all) of those notebooks to find a particular recipe.<br /><br />I figured that putting all my recipes online would be an easy way to share recipes with those of you who are interested, as well as keep things organized for myself. It's not really a food blog -- I'm not going to describe how to make anything or write any reviews or take any photos. I post the recipes and write a few notes about what works and what doesn't. I'm also using it to post recipes that I haven't tried but would like to when I get the chance, so if you're going to make something I've posted, be sure to check the notes and see if I've ever made it.<br /><br />I've been in the process of transferring my collection to the new blog for a few months now, so head over and check it out if you're interested!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-60463965679579607512009-05-22T10:28:00.004-05:002009-05-22T10:52:03.098-05:00friday photos: lilac festival editionI've been posting a lot of photos on Facebook lately, which made me forget that I haven't been posting any here on the blog. Some of these photos will be familiar to any of you who I'm friends with on Facebook, but shockingly, not everyone I know is on Facebook, so I'm posting them here too, along with a few new photos.<br /><br />Now that the weather has finally gotten nice, we're spending a lot of time outdoors. Last week Rochester held its annual Lilac Festival. Unfortunately we were only able to go twice, but we managed to see a lot of flowers, take a lot of photos, go on some rides, see a band, and eat too much unhealthy food. Lots of fun, as always.<br /><br />My boys are not very cooperative when it comes to making them pose nicely in front of flowers and trees -- you'll see it's nearly impossible for them to close their mouths or just plain smile -- but I still managed to get some nice shots of them. As always these days, there are a few in purple-tinted Technicolor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkxjtlLwSS6P8nO72ZSoFxWcuKYjgTD_s11csYf2FnuTMit9kMvAiexrCQhJD1hOWUd1e7ihoVQwcUbKt1GffRZ5XdRQOmtBLaIr5by2hZB_pYfHGy9jCPDIWDSLFjTBqPYeiTg/s1600-h/IMG_8471.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkxjtlLwSS6P8nO72ZSoFxWcuKYjgTD_s11csYf2FnuTMit9kMvAiexrCQhJD1hOWUd1e7ihoVQwcUbKt1GffRZ5XdRQOmtBLaIr5by2hZB_pYfHGy9jCPDIWDSLFjTBqPYeiTg/s400/IMG_8471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338673259575570898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSo1nku0gm6DcGnaJmv2fNhrO7YEmEeX_LvKZtijJf76rDxKawfNG3OEZd_MuXmanRFunXxYhg2W1as0p88PiL2AEkDMGfJGdkglBncE1rl04ZK9ErTKUPb-og-3lQWFrLSibtIQ/s1600-h/IMG_8457.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSo1nku0gm6DcGnaJmv2fNhrO7YEmEeX_LvKZtijJf76rDxKawfNG3OEZd_MuXmanRFunXxYhg2W1as0p88PiL2AEkDMGfJGdkglBncE1rl04ZK9ErTKUPb-og-3lQWFrLSibtIQ/s400/IMG_8457.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338673256586387362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcdkHs0Gkd3rF4Hd9VohWAQQ3nccRiHV9Dz2XfKFtdn_OHpty-ELbLzK3qzO8hw_WBrWfePWMeY4glpzBU1D8qawFOyeqU6oiIMOksdnkkSNIr9FF6BGMxSXVBgtLH7eMkSxepQ/s1600-h/IMG_8449.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcdkHs0Gkd3rF4Hd9VohWAQQ3nccRiHV9Dz2XfKFtdn_OHpty-ELbLzK3qzO8hw_WBrWfePWMeY4glpzBU1D8qawFOyeqU6oiIMOksdnkkSNIr9FF6BGMxSXVBgtLH7eMkSxepQ/s400/IMG_8449.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338673257941458434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrrp3UPtS52duKGhpPzWaBWS5FYUcKFguEWFVaykxGREj1eDywaeA4S1HUag7zX-tTPBY6pJkwPzRIWEWSzmDNLahQhz53HMnWUVEbXvfG_fyBQ_s6GE8l4BZVrPSL10Rm9BIjg/s1600-h/IMG_8672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrrp3UPtS52duKGhpPzWaBWS5FYUcKFguEWFVaykxGREj1eDywaeA4S1HUag7zX-tTPBY6pJkwPzRIWEWSzmDNLahQhz53HMnWUVEbXvfG_fyBQ_s6GE8l4BZVrPSL10Rm9BIjg/s400/IMG_8672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338674143063547346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezKhP4x3AObPH4AbXa5o6-gc3LhXr502L9HMhjb1G7qAUw3Iq2JFnjtUh1AKQBxSDGJd5ekvasUpZfm95-mi0s7agbfIKs4Coy4o34B_up3zkSJO_pUaMOR7QIk28Uf9SOLcp1Q/s1600-h/IMG_8671.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezKhP4x3AObPH4AbXa5o6-gc3LhXr502L9HMhjb1G7qAUw3Iq2JFnjtUh1AKQBxSDGJd5ekvasUpZfm95-mi0s7agbfIKs4Coy4o34B_up3zkSJO_pUaMOR7QIk28Uf9SOLcp1Q/s400/IMG_8671.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338674138832307378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIX_bALFHsttc13cPrxDTc_sVIhcWdAhOkDG0wRlC4xH4CpdNnAs7NPVttB924OgyBP7sJjmEc0ycMRh8IAcp_64_YltKEle9TQ_Y2uQg5xYLCSSnQDkvJSqnoSW-dXHfb-MQIg/s1600-h/IMG_8665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIX_bALFHsttc13cPrxDTc_sVIhcWdAhOkDG0wRlC4xH4CpdNnAs7NPVttB924OgyBP7sJjmEc0ycMRh8IAcp_64_YltKEle9TQ_Y2uQg5xYLCSSnQDkvJSqnoSW-dXHfb-MQIg/s400/IMG_8665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338673270620055474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyX6iyy_kxBqEUbHYxAS0TXhdsmTr953kN3yX_FYixE2JJRrVo2gkHV9D1ytk-iVCIxGrd_z2j4tmuBG6RMa-iwpgh7IZDH8lcd7lQ4gZX_nmXs85zhW51Cqg19UaUo3KLQNJ8w/s1600-h/IMG_8678.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMyX6iyy_kxBqEUbHYxAS0TXhdsmTr953kN3yX_FYixE2JJRrVo2gkHV9D1ytk-iVCIxGrd_z2j4tmuBG6RMa-iwpgh7IZDH8lcd7lQ4gZX_nmXs85zhW51Cqg19UaUo3KLQNJ8w/s400/IMG_8678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338673271561723394" border="0" /></a>Happy weekend, everyone!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17551211.post-39864052584003790442009-05-08T13:05:00.004-05:002009-05-08T13:09:31.337-05:00a conversationScene: Evan and Greg are looking around the farm. They see a group of small wooden crates nearby.<br /><br />Greg: Look at all those boxes.<br /><br />Evan: Oh, they're just the right size for me when I die.<br /><br />Greg: What are you talking about?? You're not going to die!<br /><br />Evan: You can bury me in them when I die.<br /><br />Greg: No, I'll just throw you on that compost pile over there.<br /><br />Evan: No, you have to bury me in a box!<br /><br />Greg: Why do you want to be buried in a coffin?<br /><br />Evan: Yeah, a coffin! Because then I can turn into a vampire and eat you!Heidihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14894131042735833767noreply@blogger.com1