A Day Outside

The other day the kids and I spent a fun morning outside. We visited Muscoot Farm where we looked at pigs and goats and donkeys and chickens and played on a really cool old tractor. Then we came home and practiced climbing on the playground. I had my camera with me so I got a few fun pictures I thought I'd share. The kiddos are really active now. A whole day at home in the house just doesn't feel like an option anymore. I thought after Muscoot they might be slightly worn out, but as I drove into our parking lot Abby was pleading "no home, no home." They definitely have outside play on the mind. The weather has been cooperating, so so much the better. I'm not too excited for another long winter. These guys need some room to stretch their legs!

Little climbers

Treating cribs and dressers like a jungle gym has become part of the regular bedtime routine. These pictures don't do it justice. I swear these kids could scale an inverted wall coated in vaseline (previously applied by them, of course). I talked to my mom today and she said that kids with early climbing skills go on to be strong readers. How's that for a silver lining? She said they'll be reading the encyclopedia by the time they're five. I'm not sure that sounds very exciting. But maybe they could read my blog! Maybe not as challening, but a lot more fun.

Vaseline

This is it. The beginning of the end. The end of naptime as I know it; the end of peace and quiet and keeping things in easy to reach places.

Gabriel got out of his crib during naptime today. Unlike the girls, who a while back got out of their cribs by using their dresser as a step stool, Gabriel got out on his own. No furniture to brace against, just plain old climbing skills. There was no crying or fussing when he landed on the floor, so that must not have been too traumatizing. I think the trauma was reserved completely for me and Garrett when we decided to open the door and let the animals out of their cages.

We knew someone had gotten out of bed. We could hear little hands playing with the door handle, which we have already baby proofed with knob covers to prevent escapes. So I anticipated a messy room when I opened the door. I expected strewn diapers, toys all over the place, clothing thrown on the floor. But I forgot about the ointments and creams on the changing table. Oh, how I forgot.

Vaseline. Everywhere.

I opened the door and three sets of eyes turn to me. Silence. Gabe is standing next to Abigail's crib. Abby and Amelia are still in bed, but the sheen on their faces says they have been partaking in the revelry. Amelia is covered in greasy vaseline and struggling to grip the fingernail clippers I keep in the basket on the changing table. Abigail and Gabriel have been smearing vaseline all over the slats on her crib. There is vaseline on the carpet, the toys, the furniture, the sheets, and their clothes. Clean diapers littered the floor. I should have taken a picture.

I got the kids in the tub and Garrett got to work cleaning the bedroom. There's a nice polished look to the kids' cribs now. Mostly what this episode has me thinking is that this may really be the turning point in my peaceful bedtime respites. I feel like I may as well move the furniture back the way it was before, when the girls learned how to get out of their own cribs. I liked the arrangement better that way, and if they're going to get out, what does it matter if it's one or all three? I'll need to make some adjustments in their room though. No more ointments or powders. I may have to pare down on the toy overload too. We just took three boxes of stuff to the Goodwill drop box this weekend and it feels like I need to fill fifteen more. This is a messy, messy age.

Any thoughts on whether I should make them sleep in helmets from now on?

Contentment

Sometimes the memories I like the best are ones that have a little fuzz around the edges. They're not snapshots, they're vague recollections. They are more emotionally recollected than intellectually. They rely on senses--a taste, a touch, a sound--to take me back to a place I once was. This past Labor Day weekend we had so much family time doing the types of things that fill hours and days but not record books. It was wonderful. Going for a morning walk and letting the kids wander by the creek that runs through town; splashing in the pool; exploring a new town--Stamford, CT--just for the sake of going somewhere we haven't been before; eating a picnic in the park. These are the moments I love. Tonight Garrett and I took the kids outside before bedtime for twenty minutes of walking barefoot around the complex, wandering wherever we wanted to wander. We walked hand in hand--that is, with Amelia in between. Gabriel and Abigail walked hand in hand in front of us. The kids wore pajamas, Abby and Amelia decked out in rocketships and trucks because girls can wear boy jammies too. I was happy. Completely content. Joyful in the most satisfying, settling way. I love that one glance at Abigail in Gabriel's blue pajamas makes me almost flow over with all feelings good and strong and lovely. Must this be what God feels when he looks at us? His beautiful and silly and wayward children? It doesn't matter what my kids do to aggravate me--all it takes is an instant of neediness and I'm at their service--how can I help you little one? How can I make you know you are loved beyond all measure? This afternoon, for at least the third time in a week, Gabriel removed his diaper during naptime and soiled his sheets. There are things I don't love about parenting toddlers. But truth be told, there are not many. The good just so exponentially outweighs the bad. And those moments when I am truly needed are satisfying to the core. Abby tripped on an invisible something today and face-planted on the hard floor, giving herself a bloody mouth and a puffy lip. Not five minutes later, Gabriel pulled the potted fern from the top of our tall bookshelf onto himself resulting in a scrape between the eyes, a mighty scare, and a carpet covered in dirt. The first thing they both wanted? Mommy. And oh, how wonderful that is. Amelia, though less accident prone today, is just as needy. I've taken to calling her my little cling-on lately. I think she thinks she can actually burrow into my skin and wear me like a blanket. Sometimes, when I am foolish enough to think there is anything more important than graciously and gratefully receiving such affection, I get annoyed at the little arms tugging and pulling at me. But when I am fortunate enough to remember how amazing it is to be desperately loved, I stop and soak it in. Is there anything better than being a mom?

I don't think so.