Go figure

So much for going to the beach tomorrow. Our local beach has tested positive for high levels of fecal bacteria, apparently caused by a large number of ducks nesting near the beach. While local officials are quick to assure us that the bacteria is not fatal to humans, it can cause a condition known as "duck itch" (seriously, that's what they call it) which must be treated with medication. Since going to the beach just to spend the day yelling at the kids to "stay out of the water" doesn't appeal to me I guess we'll just stay away. I guess it could be worse, I could be paying $225 a night to stay in a motel in the area so I could lounge on the beach. Damned ducks.

The trashman

Our family said good-bye to a friend this past Friday. Alan, or as the kids call him "the trashman", was indeed, our trashman. He works for the waste management company that collects the trash in our town and has been our trashman for the last few years. This year his company lost the bid for our town, and this past Friday was his last day on our route.

The first summer we lived in our house I was pregnant with our first child. One hot, humid Friday I was pulling some weeds out of the garden along our driveway when the trash truck pulled up. The driver got out and asked me if I minded if he used our hose to fill his water bottle. I told him he was welcome to do so. He proceeded to fill the bottle, thanked me, got back on his truck and drove away. As he drove off I thought about what a hot, smelly, and thankless job that must be. Before he returned from the cul-de-sac to pass our house again I ran in the house and grabbed a cold Coke out of the fridge. As the the trash truck rumbled back up the street I stood at the end of our driveway and flagged him down with a can of Coke. He hopped off his truck with a look of genuine surprise, thanked me, took the Coke and drove away. Thus began a "tradition" in our household. At that time my husband was home every other Friday, so on the days he was home he would take something out for the trashman to drink. Pretty much every Friday since then if we've been home, the trashman has had a cold beverage delivered.

It didn't take long for the trashman to get friendly with us. He appreciated the little refreshment we provided and he would stop and talk for a minute. On his return from the cul-de-sac he would toot the horn and wave as he passed our house. One day my parents were there and were surprised at how friendly our trashman was. I told them how we had befriended him, and it wasn't long before my Dad was doing the same thing on Wednesdays, the day the trashman hit my parent's house. Over time we learned our trashman's name was Brian. Each week we would chat for a minute, it's amazing how much you can learn about someone's life in just a few minutes a week. Brian was a nice guy. After the birth of our son Phillip I took a drink out to him one week to find that he had a gift for us. He had bought (and wrapped) a couple of packs of baby wipes and some socks for our new arrival, along with some M&M's for Kylie. A couple of years ago Brian left to take a different route. He introduced us to the new driver when he was training him, and told him to take good care of us (he did the same at my Dad's house).

My children think it's perfectly normal to watch for the trash truck and run down the driveway with a cold drink for the driver. When Kylie started school in the fall she made me promise to take a drink down to the trashman on Friday afternoons since she wouldn't be there to do it. Now that Phillip is no longer scared of the big green truck (he used to hide in the house and peek out at it but he wouldn't approach it), he carries the drink down the driveway. A few weeks ago, on Kylie's first Friday out of school, she and Phillip were actually fighting about who was carrying the drink down to Alan. I was able to resolve their battle - Phillip carried the bottle of water, and Kylie took him a pack of chocolate chip cookies. This past Friday in addition to the drink and the cookies Alan was presented with a card that Kylie made for him, complete with a picture of him and his trash truck, and the words "We will miss you Alan. Love Kylie, Phillip, and Bella". Rob was home from work that afternoon so the whole family walked down to bid farewell to Alan and wish him well. We waited for the big truck to thunder up the road from the cul-de-sac and gave Alan one last wave before walking back up our driveway. As we returned to the house Kylie asked "Mom, are we gonna give the next trashman water and cookies too?", at which time Phillip started jumping up and down yelling "I wanna carry the water, I wanna carry the water!". The tradition carries on...

Siblings

When I was pregnant with Bella people frequently asked me how Kylie and Phillip felt about having a baby in the family. Aside from a little hesitation initially (on Kylie's behalf), they both seemed to welcome the idea of having another sibling to love. Now that Bella is two and a half months old I can say that they have both truly welcomed her with open arms. I think their warm reception has something to do with the fact that even at their young ages they understand that love is infinite. They both realize that our loving Bella doesn't take away from the love that we have for them. I believe they also realize that their lives are enriched by having another person to love, and who loves them.

Phillip dotes on his baby sister. In his mind she is "our baby" or "my baby" and he insists on kissing and hugging her several times a day. He is particularly fascinated by her "little hands", which he frequently comments are "so cute". There is no doubt that he will be the loving, protective big brother that every little sister deserves. Rob moved the seats in the van around over the weekend, and when Phillip got in this morning he discovered that he was sitting right next to Bella instead of having a little aisle between them. He was so excited! "Mommy", he asked, "can I talk to Bella in the van?". All the way to my parent's house (10 minutes) he kept up a running dialogue with Bella, stopping just a few times to let me know she was still awake - hmmmm, wonder why?

Kylie has gladly (and without being asked) assumed the role of little mother. When we're trying to get ready to go somewhere Kylie is happy to sing to Bella, resulting in one of two things - Bella smiling at her until her little cheeks are about to pop, or Bella going to sleep. Either reaction thrills her big sister, who can often be heard saying either "Momma, look at her smiling at me!", or "Bella went to sleep for me again.". If Bella gets fussy while we're on the road Kylie will peek over the seat and sing to her, which usually settles her right down. Bella already watches Kylie with wide eyes, as if to say "I want to be just like you someday!".

The biggest sign that Bella has been embraced by her siblings is the fact that they have both indicated the desire to have another baby in the family. Phillip asked me soon after Bella was born if we could "get another new baby someday", and Kylie has mentioned it as well. Bella is a lucky little girl to have Kylie and Phillip for a big sister and big brother. I know as she grows there will be days when they bicker and don't get along, but at the end of the day they will all still love each other. I also know there will come a day when they realize that one of the greatest gifts their Dad and I ever gave them is each other.

For love of jeans

When I was not quite three months pregnant with Bella my jeans started to become uncomfortable. I wasn't ready to slip into maternity pants yet, and we hadn't told anyone I was even pregnant, so I went to Marshall's and bought a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans in a size 8. I knew they were a winner that night when, at a family birthday party, my then 15 year old niece told me she liked them. My husband on the other hand thought I was crazy. My regular pants are sizes 4 and 6, so he said it was silly to buy a bigger size to wear for a month or two when I would never use them again. It turns out I loved those jeans, and with the help of one of my daughter's ponytail holders I wore them through my sixth month of pregnancy.

After Bella's birth I wore my Tommy jeans home from the hospital. During those first few weeks they were the only pants I had that fit, and I loved them more than ever. By week three I was once again fitting into my pre-pregnancy pants (and my Tommy jeans were getting looser), but somehow those pre-pregnancy jeans were just not as flattering as my Tommy jeans. The Tommy jeans were stylish and, dare I say it, sexy. They sat low on my hips and had long legs that flared slightly at the bottom, they made me feel good. My other jeans were, well, just jeans. They weren't particularly flattering, and they sure didn't make me feel like my Tommy jeans did. So, my old jeans were left in a heap on the bottom of my closet while I continued to wear my Tommy jeans. That is, of course, until last week when we went to BJ's to stock up on toilet paper, Kleenex, diapers, and all the other wonderful things that can be purchased in cases large enough to last several months. That is the day I discovered that my Tommy jeans, which had been getting looser by the week, were just plain too big. After bending down for the hundredth time to stuff something under the cart (with Bella in the sling, of course) and standing back up only to realize I was dangerously close to mooning the entire store, I decided it was time to retire my beloved Tommy jeans.

The next morning I headed to Marshall's with Bella, Kylie, and my Mom. The first rack of jeans I came upon had no Tommy's, but I did find a pair of Polo jeans marked "28x34" which looked like they were similarly styled. I tried them on (although I had no idea what size they truly were since they weren't traditionally marked) and decided they would do. We browsed some more and I found another rack of jeans, this one holding Tommy jeans! I frantically flipped through the size 6's until I found them...jeans just like the ones I loved which were now too big. I tried them on and they fit perfectly, I was in heaven. I left the store with two new pairs of jeans and a smile on my face (still hitching up my old Tommy jeans which I had worn shopping one last time).

My size 8 Tommy jeans have now been washed and returned to my closet to wait for (I hope!) my next pregnancy. As for the old jeans on the closet floor they still have a lot of good wear left in them...for someone else.

Kylie steps up

I am the mother of a first grader. There was no ceremony or celebration for the parents, just a "step-up" day for the children where they got to visit their new teacher and meet their classmates for the upcoming school year. It's probably just as well. As someone who cried at the Kindergarten spring sing and Kylie's dance recital, I'm sure a Kindy graduation would have pushed me right over the edge. My little girl is growing up.

I know this progression from Kindergarten to first grade is but one small milestone in her young life, but I also know how quickly the other milestones will come. As the youngest of four children I am blessed with nephews and nieces who have shown me how fast children grow. In the past two years I have watched both of my nephews graduate from high school. It seems like just yesterday they were little squirts playing little league and saying "blech" at the mere mention of girls. Now Christopher is entering his junior year at Maine Maritime Academy and spending his summer working on a ship running between Tampa and Houston (and no doubt desperately missing Heidi, his girlfriend of two years), and Ross is anxiously awaiting the end of summer so he can head off to his freshman year at Springfield. As for the girls, the Barbies have been retired and boys no longer have "cooties". Ashley has just hit the "sweet sixteen" mark (and she is!) and received as a gift from her parents her first car. Watching her is like peeking through the looking glass at what Kylie will look like in ten years. Seeing them both dance in the recital this year it was more obvious than ever that Kylie is truly a mini version of Ashley, much like Ashley was a mini version of me. Kayla is entering eighth grade, which means that in a little less than a year there will be another graduation to cry through, as Kayla leaves her junior high days behind.

Having observed and participated in the on-going journey from childhood to adulthood with Christopher, Ross, Ashley, and Kayla, I know that in the blink of an eye my children will be grown. That's why the tears flowed when I watched Ross march down the aisle to "Pomp and Circumstance", and when I watched Ashley dance on the stage for the twelfth year in a row. My eyes were seeing Ross and Ashley, but my heart was seeing Kylie, Phillip, and even Bella. It will be their turn before I know it, and long before I'm ready.

A three year old's mind...

I just received a call at work from my Mom, who watches my children. She said "I have a little boy here who wants to talk to you". Phillip then gets on the phone and we have the following conversation:

"Hi Momma"
"Hi Sweetie, how are you?"
"Good. Momma, 'member when Foster and Comet were puppies?"
"Yes Honey, I remember."
"When was dat?"
"Well, Foster was a puppy when you were a baby, and Comet was a puppy about a year ago."
"Oh, okay. Well I was wonderin', when 'dey gonna be puppies
agin?"
"Well Sweetie, puppies are kind of like babies, they grow up. So
Foster and Comet have grown up, they won't be puppies again."
"Oh, okay. See you later Momma, I wuv you." (Followed by kissing sounds as he handed the phone back to my Mom)

Glad I was able to clear that up for him!

Baby clothes

A few months ago I was going through the boxes of baby clothes that my son and daughter had long since outgrown. At the time I was pregnant with number three, and since we didn't know whether we would be blessed with a boy or a girl, I was pulling out sleepers, onesies, and other things that could be used either way. I remember holding up the tiny outfits and marveling that my now 6.5 year old daughter and 3.5 year old son once wore such little garments. It didn't seem possible that either of them was ever that small, but they were, and I have the pictures to prove it. With great anticipation of our new ones arrival I washed and folded each item (okay, I even ironed some) and couldn't wait to see it on our new baby. Now here I sit, a mere 9 weeks after our sweet baby girl's arrival, facing the prospect of boxing some of those tiny outfits up again. Given that Bella was 22 inches long at birth it should come as no surprise that her 0-3 month clothes are already snug (okay, they've been snug for a couple of weeks, I've just been in denial). Still, there's something sad about already folding up part of her wardrobe and returning it to the boxes stored over our TV room. Call me crazy, but I'll shed a tear as I lovingly fold each little article of clothing and return it to storage. My husband will once again want to suggest that maybe we don't need to keep all of the clothes, but seeing my weepy state will keep quiet. He knows what my response would be: "we might be able to use them for number four", and deep down he knows that God willing, we will.

Here I go again...

Over the years I have spent a lot of money buying journals. At the moment floating around our house there are at least three journals that have been started with good intentions, yet they each only contain a few entries. My problem with keeping a journal is that it's just not user friendly. In order to write in my journal I need to have a pen, a place to sit, and most elusive, time to do it. A journal also has no backspace button or delete key, both things that I find quite necessary when sharing my thoughts, both the deep and fluffy ones. Hence, my attempt at blogging. We have two computers in our house which are pretty easy to find. I also have a computer at work, and most weeks enough free time there to blog away to my heart's delight. So here I go...embarking on the great world of blogging.