Boo

My house is always ready for Halloween- cobwebs hiding in corners, a spooky dirt floor basement and creaky floor boards. What was that noise? Oh, that was just the snores of the Damn Husband.

Let the wild rumpus begin!

The Great Pumpkin Event at Chadds Ford

Where The Wild Things Are was a popular theme.

Later when Megan took home this pumpkin it was really where the wild things were. Ouch, stop eating my face.

Marshallton Family Fun Night

Back in time at Martin’s Tavern.

Mikaeala: “Why are they wearing those funny clothes?”

I loved the woman in drag (far left). She was the one in charge of setting off the canon and there was no messing with her. She took her job very seriously. Good for her! It reminded me of growing up in Gettysburg and participating in the reenactment battles. (different war) I wanted to wear a uniform and run on the battlefield with a sword instead of having to sit on the sidelines in a big puffy skirt waiting to help the wounded. The Civil War reenactors take themselves far too seriously. I did get to wield some power:

soldier: bandage my arm.

me: no. You’re dead, be still.

Soldier: I am not dead. I just got shot in the arm.

me: You got hit with a cannonball, you are definitely dead.

Soldier: Am not.

me: Are to.

Nigel exploring the fire truck. The boys loved the trucks. Mikaela, not so much.

Mikaela proudly showing off that her horse shirt glows in the dark. Thanks Aunt Kris. She loves it.

When Mikaela got home she drew a face, a saddle, a star and a snip marking on her horse and named her Glory.

We ended the night back at Martin’s Tavern.

Morning Workout

I want one of these in my house. Nigel, Mikaela and I would have so much fun. This is my idea of exercise.

It Just Wouldn’t be Sunday

without the snores of the Damn Husband wafting throughout the house. And why does he have to sleep on the couch instead of in the bedroom with the door shut?  Because he is not going to go to sleep. He is just resting for a few minutes… just like every Sunday.

She thought he needed a corrective lens on his third eye.

Just like every Sunday Mikaela wants him to wake up. 

Success. But alas, only temporarily.

At least he is fun to decorate.

Philly Here We Come!

Mikaela in the little city.

When I was 8 plus months pregnant with Mikaela I moved back to the burbs outside Philadelphia. It was painful for me to leave New York. (three bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, the most fabulous place to live) The culture shock was enormous. I was resentful of Philadelphia. Okay, and also a bit resentful of the Damn Husband who wanted to live here. (Note to the Damn Husband: don’t get started, yes there were many reasons why this move was practical for us but I am not getting into this right now because that is not what this post is about so don’t get your boxers in a bundle. And yes, I like it here now, but once in a while I get a little home sick for my old stomping grounds. xo)) I wanted to be in the Big City. Not the little city. To make matters worse, I don’t know my way around Philly. I can find anything in NY (or at least I could seven years ago…) and I can’t find anything in Philly. Mostly because I never tried. I have not given Philly a chance. Somehow I got caught up with my life and I haven’t taken the time to explore. I am trying to mend my ways. I took Mikaela to see Bodyvox at the Zellerbach Theatre. Considering how many years I spent creating costume designs for modern dance in NYC it is crazy that this was the first modern dance performance I have seen since I left NY. I have been living in a cultural vacuum.

“Look, Mommy”, Mikaela says, “Take a picture of this. All those different looking buildings all together. There is a castle hiding behind there.”

The courtyard outside the Zellerbach.

A beautiful fall day.

Why don’t I ever come into this city? I was lucky to run into my friends. They were great tour guides.

Why so many bikes? Because we are at The Divine Bike Church at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, a bike co-op where they help you repair your own bike. I should bring my unicycle here some day. it could use some TLC.

Thank you Mr. Falafel man for your incredible kindness. When it was my turn to order he said, “What can I get for you, beautiful.” It caught me so off guard it took me a minute to remember what I was ordering. It has been a long time since I have been greeted that way by a stranger. It has been a long time since I have been greeted that way by anyone. I could move into this neighborhood just to order from you everyday. And your food was good too. My falafel sandwich was delicious and I am having hummus leftovers today.

Okay, Philly, we’ll be back!

Mikaela’s World

We were in the car and Mikaela was calling out facts from her handbook on dog breeds: Chihuahuas can live up to 20 years or more, a Scottish Deerhound is for experienced dog handlers only, Irish Wolfhounds only live for 6 or 7 years. It was quiet in the car for a while. When she began speaking again I thought she was still talking about dogs. 

“Six is the perfect age.”

“The perfect age for what?”

“Mommy, for everything!”

She is about to turn seven so I am wondering if this is a problem.

“So, six is the perfect age?”

“Yes. Six to nine.”

“Hmm. Can you tell me more about that.”

She sighs in a way that says, it is so obvious but I will explain it to you.

“You are old enough so that you don’t have to hold your mom’s hand all the time and you can do lots of things on your own but you still get snuggles and stuff.”

“ Cool.  Six to nine.”

“Yeah. Kayla just turned nine and she’s happy.”

off and running in her own little world.  Sometimes out of focus shots just work.

If I were Queen of the Universe…

it would be illegal to call your company Eating Right when your breakfast cereal has 19 grams of sugar per serving (2/3 cup). Come on! I sent the Damn Husband to the grocery store and this is what he comes home with.

“Hey, what do you want, it was in the health section.”

What's a poor guy to do?

And then my favorite- after dinner he pours himself a big bowl. (ah, much bigger than 2/3 of a cup) and then tells Mikaela:

“No, you can’t have any, this is Daddy’s cereal.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I finished all my dinner that’s why I can have it”

Ugh!!!!

5am

When I heard her feet padding along the hall I felt myself cringe. I had planned to shower and spend some desperately needed time alone working on some writing. That plan ended as she came around the corner.

“Mommy, I had a bad dream.”

I offer her my cure-all, knowing some day soon it will not be the answer:

“Let’s snuggle together.” She allows me to lead her back to bed.

“Mommy, I was in the desert all alone and lost.”

We curl up under the warm comforter. When I hear her sleep breath begin I start to plan my escape again. Before I can move I hear Nigel stir and chatter. He crawls over Mikaela, onto me and slides off the bed. Then surprisingly, he turns around and climbs back on top of me. He snuggles his face into my neck, grabs hold of my ear, sighs and falls back to sleep with his body sprawled across mine. I feel the quick beat of his heart like a baby bird’s. I give into it all and relax, surrounded by the warmth of my children. Nigel has never snuggled with me like this before. It is a new stage for us and I concentrate on my breath to keep from crying. Thank you Mikaela, for making this moment possible.

From the second Mikaela came out of my body I snuggled her, caressed her, kissed her, smelled her and I have never stopped. Nigel met me for the first time when he was ten months old. For him that would have been too much too fast. We had to grow our feelings towards each other slowly. Love takes time. He always wants to be held but often he is not discerning about who holds him and he is far too busy to relax and seek snuggles. Raised by many caretakers, he must learn the concept of mommy. One mommy. Me.

Breath in

you are my son.

Breath out

I love you.

I spend the next hour dozing on and off and meditating on the sweet smells of my children and the sound of their breath. Mikaela rolls and flops her arm across both of us.

Nigel’s butterfly kisses land on my cheek as his eyelashes brushed against me. What are his dreams about?

When they wake up we giggle and tumble and tickle around in bed. Michael hears us and returns to bed also and joins the fun. Within moments it is a full ruckus. Nigel barks, Mikaela whinnies, Michael groans that he is late for work.

Over breakfast Mikaela relays the rest of her dreams. Like me she dreams epics with many twists and turns and seemingly unrelated subplots. She stops in mid-telling, crunches up her face and folds her arms.

“I’m thinking” she says

“You're thinking?”

“Yes. I am trying to decide if I should tell it the way I remember it or add some stuff so it is more interesting.”

I can’t help smiling. “ You are trying to decide if you would like to be a reporter or a story teller.”

Nigel whinnies and rears up, pawing the air with toast still in his clenched fists.

I remember a quote I read just yesterday.

"When I was a little boy, they called me a liar, but now that I am grown up, they call me a writer. "
— Isaac Bashevis Singer