tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75699332059593382782024-03-13T06:07:06.902-04:00 The JacobsMaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-61871204506115429822015-03-24T17:49:00.000-04:002015-03-24T17:49:44.012-04:00Zionsville Visit<div style="clear: both; font-size: small;">
We enjoyed the most wonderful visit to Grammy and Grampy's house in Indiana last week. </div>
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The girls have been talking about meeting their new cousin, Baby Evelyn, since she was born in December, and we were all thrilled to finally have the chance to see her. </div>
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She is every bit as beautiful as we thought she would be. </div>
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We were especially happy that Great Grandma and Grandpa Denny planned their visit to coordinate with ours, and that the Rodgers from Ohio and the Wistroms from Illinois stopped through as well.</div>
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As you can imagine, the children did not want for loving attention.</div>
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The weather took a turn for the warmer after what we're told had been frigid temperatures, so we were able to get to the park a few times. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_FPBPpsIkZI/VQ106DRz53I/AAAAAAAAI_A/0UGgW2y_NHY/s1600/DSC_0258.JPG" style="color: #1155cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_FPBPpsIkZI/VQ106DRz53I/AAAAAAAAI_A/0UGgW2y_NHY/s1600/DSC_0258.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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You can't beat the view from the back porch at sunset.</div>
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S'mores on the fire out back: pretty much the most perfect dessert ever for the girls (and me).</div>
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Grammy had carefully preserved so many beloved toys from Matt's childhood. The girls enjoyed playing Guess Who and were absolutely enchanted by Aunt Erin's old Quints dolls.</div>
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When they tired of scattering what seemed like hundreds of sets of five identical minuscule accessories (think five mini hair brushes each the size of a vitamin and five teeny baby bottles with removable tops the size of lentils) all over the floor, and when they weren't dining at Grammy's 24 Hour Diner and Snack Bar, they passed many, many hours chasing/feeding/terrorizing/<wbr></wbr>hugging/discussing the dogs, Zac and Zoey. </div>
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Of course, we adults had fun too. In addition to enjoying much help in the diapering, feeding, entertaining, boo-boo healing and soothing to sleep of the day-to-day, the four parents (that's Erin, J.P., Matt, and me) left the four children with the two grandparents and two great grandparents to enjoy a dinner out. And when our car got stuck in the mud in a field on the way home, Grampy came right to our rescue. So, yeah, pretty full service situation we had over there. </div>
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What a fantastic week!</div>
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"https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-gxy8VMykDj0%2FVQ11XbcQmlI%2FAAAAAAAAJAQ%2FVcH5wV1qnYk%2Fs1600%2FDSC_0086.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gxy8VMykDj0/VQ11XbcQmlI/AAAAAAAAJAQ/VcH5wV1qnYk/s1600/DSC_0086.JPG" -->Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-12338691692846292822015-03-04T00:10:00.000-05:002015-03-04T01:08:36.299-05:00Boring BabyI know, I know. Enough with the baby photos, Mary.<br />
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Trust me, I'm just as bored as you are of that potbelly and those squishy thighs. <span style="text-align: center;">It's no fun at all for me to behold his silky hair and bright eyes, and downright tiresome to gaze upon those formidable upper arms.</span><br />
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What if I made things slightly more interesting this time? I could showcase a glorious, emergent tooth bud, if that's the kind of thing you're into.<br />
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Or capture some shots of the speediest, most cheerful crawl you ever did see.<br />
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Still not interested?<br />
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Yeah, me neither.<br />
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-50735264044316260152015-02-24T00:03:00.000-05:002015-02-24T00:03:09.167-05:00Family Wedding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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What would you say if your four-year-old daughter told you she was getting married? The very next day. To her <i>brudder</i>. </div>
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We had a lot of questions for our child bride: What time? What will you wear? Do we sit on the bride's side or the groom's side? Are you sure you're ready to make such a serious commitment? Is Sam? Shouldn't we wait at least until he has a few teeth? </div>
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We really shouldn't have worried: she had it all figured out. We were just along for the ride.</div>
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She took such joy in planning all the little details.</div>
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She de-petaled many flowers for the flower girl.</div>
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For her own bouquet, she filled an empty tomato paste can with all the blooms she could find along the side of the house.<br />
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She decorated the fence that would serve as the backdrop for the ceremony and decided what everyone in attendance would be wearing. (She denied my request to keep my jeans on under my mandated "crinkly red dress" and also my request to wear my casual flats. She did, however, grant my petition to expand my role beyond mere bridesmaid to bridesmaid/photographer, which I felt was generous.)<br />
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The flower girl was darling and, happily, managed to overcome a brutal imaginary injury she had sustained earlier in the afternoon to participate fully in the festivities. </div>
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You didn't know that "full participation" as flower girl includes flashing the ring bearer? Huh, maybe that's a California thing.</div>
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The ring bearer performed his duties efficiently and exactly as instructed. He's a good sport.<br />
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The moment the groom beheld his bride was, of course, magical. He was speechless. He was also quite hungry, so we kept feeding him baby crackers throughout the ceremony. But then the flower girl insisted "I'm a baby too! I eat crackers toooooo!" And then the bride felt it was unfair that everybody else got to have crackers and she didn't. And the bridesmaid/photographer just wanted to get her preschool-aged daughter married off to her infant son so everybody could just eat dinner already because dinner is just the first of many stops on the lights-out-for-the-night train. But, anyways, yes, all very magical.<br />
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Alice was positively radiant. </div>
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The ceremony was beautiful and brief. It consisted of everyone walking down the aisle (except the groom, for obvious reasons), the bride putting a ring on her pointer finger, and then a kiss to seal the deal. </div>
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Afterwards, Alice rolled her eyes skyward and fake-dreamily proclaimed that this was "the happiest day of her life."<br />
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It was a happy day indeed.<br />
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-58184560334562109342015-02-04T18:17:00.000-05:002015-02-04T18:17:55.535-05:00A Morning in the Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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San Jose just couldn't wait for the groundhog this year. Picnics in the park, sunshine-filled afternoons, and touring the neighborhood with the double stroller mean Spring around these parts. We are not complaining.</div>
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-43699463236838570942015-01-26T17:03:00.000-05:002015-01-26T17:03:13.140-05:00Sam: Six Months and Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-19090255877515893932014-08-28T17:54:00.001-04:002014-08-28T18:17:45.270-04:00Tales From the Nursery + A Few SnapshotsI sit on the bed in Alice's room, nursing Sam. Alice sits next to me, nursing her doll Bluey (who also sometimes goes by the alias "Purpley"). Joanna squirms on the floor, nursing Baby Dylan (the doll, obviously). <br />
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From the bed, drones a never-ending stream-of-conciousness chatter: "Mom, there is a fairy named Sunflower Fairy and her power is the light and, oh!, remember that time Dad made that funny joke about apple juice instead of flower nectar? [much laughter] Can we have a book club togedder? We just need to get some snacks. See? All my fairies are mixed and matched but is tonight a movie night? Girls' bottoms look like peaches but without the stems and I decided that I have four names now just like you so I'm Alice Rose FLOWER Jacobs I just decided that so let's have a conversation togedder." <br />
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Every so often, from down below, a wild bellow: "FEED! BAYBEEE! NAP!" as Joanna drags Baby Dylan around by his arm and chucks him into the play cradle with the care and coordination of a drunken... I don't know. What's something clumsy and not at all gentle? A hedgehog? An ogre? A toddler?<br />
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And, with that, here are some snapshots of what else we've been up to lately, other than group nursing sessions.<br />
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Should I have been saying something like, "We stay inside our cribs, Joanna," instead of, "That's the ticket! Climb out for the camera! Right over the top, Jo! Now pause at the top for the money shot!"?<br />
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Perhaps, in retrospect, yes. </div>
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Here, Joanna sports the latest trend in toddler hemlines: short shorts, long diaper. </div>
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Every time. </div>
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Nope, this didn't end badly at all. </div>
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Never mind. It did. </div>
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I don't even remember why she was crying. Because her ice melted? She was surprised because she didn't expect the water to be wet? She wanted to drink the tea but only realized that after she dumped it out? She thought sweet tea was an inappropriate drink for a twenty-month-old? I wouldn't let her hold my camera? So many possibilities.</div>
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"Taking pictures is just ANNOYING!"</div>
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Why, yes, that is a brown tooth. The dentist was also confused as to how we never noticed that she hit it hard enough to bruise the tooth, but the good news is that he said it would probably stay that way until it falls out in a few years, but it's actually already starting to turn back to normal. I wonder what other dental advice we can disregard.<br />
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"I <i>said</i> no pictures."<br />
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Well, look at that! Three posts in one month. And this one only took me three days to put together. Hold on to your hats!</div>
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-71011158674308452752014-08-24T18:54:00.002-04:002014-08-24T18:58:54.275-04:00Beach DaysMatt took off from work this past Thursday and Friday, so we took advantage of the four day weekend to take two trips to the beach. On Thursday we visited Natural Bridges State Beach in Santa Cruz, and then yesterday we met up with some friends at Half Moon Bay State Beach. <br />
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Sometimes, big outings with the kids feel like more trouble than they're worth: packing up all the gear, fielding Alice's inevitable and endless requests for in-car entertainment in the form of "stories from my mouth," cleaning up from Joanna's occasional motion sickness, ignoring Joanna's frequent, loud, and insistent demands for a dropped lovey or shoe, and timing travel around Sam's unpredictable nursing needs all sometimes make Matt and me look at each other and wonder why we even bothered leaving the house. But, these two trips were definitely worth the effort and car time.<br />
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-90725909814486516792014-08-11T18:18:00.000-04:002014-08-11T18:18:15.323-04:00Easing Back In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm hoping that now that I'm neither pregnant nor packing-unpacking-repacking-unpacking, I'll be posting here more often. I'm a little out of practice, so bear with me as I ease back in with some photos I took the other day at the San Jose Rose Garden and later at home.</div>
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-85889722546120567832014-07-09T17:44:00.001-04:002014-07-09T17:44:47.266-04:00Samuel August Jacobs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Wednesday, July 2, at 12:01pm, we welcomed little Sam into the world. He weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces at birth and measured 20 inches long. We are all in love with our baby boy.</div>
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-19069100906915759942013-10-16T14:02:00.001-04:002013-10-16T14:11:46.211-04:00On Two FeetI went away for the weekend and returned to this new development:<br />
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-69638811290997704382013-10-10T01:21:00.000-04:002013-10-10T01:22:30.145-04:00The Last Two MonthsI just haven't seemed to find the time to post over the last two months. I guess I was just too busy doing other things. Important things. Things like watching seasons 1-4 of Parenthood. (FYI, I just checked how many episodes that is. It's sixty-eight. Does it make it better if I tell you that I was watching while doing other things like folding laundry or cleaning the kitchen or drinking wine?) <br />
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In any case, I thought that I'd just do a quick little summary of what we've been up to in the hopes that this catch-up post will remedy my blog lethargy of late. So, what you should know about the last few months is the following: <br />
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We visited a farm and made friends with some goats and two cows, Roxy and Luna.</div>
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The girls and I joined another mother/girl child/younger girl child combo for a day trip to Half Moon Bay. <br />
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We celebrated Erin and J.P.'s wedding in Indianapolis. <br />
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The girls and I spent two weeks at my Mom's house, and Cousin D and Vola joined us for part of the time.<br />
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We caught up with dear friends.<br />
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We hit the splash pad, but forgot bathing suits the first day.<br />
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<i>[When you're at a loss for the perfect way to make a first impression, why not try the Surprise Upright Spoon Maneuver? Works even better in a wet bathing suit! The kid in the stroller is taking notes.</i>]<br />
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We visited the Smithsonian Natural History Museum and Air and Space Museum.<br />
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From DC, we headed up to Massachusetts, where we were reunited with Matt for the wedding of Jeff and Julia. Alice had the honor of serving as their flower girl. I entrusted the photography to the pros that day, so am sorry to say that don't have any of my own photos.<br />
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Once we got back to California, Alice jumped right into the routine of preschool. So far, she's loving every minute of it.<br />
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And that, my friends, takes care of August and September!<br />
<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-8414226947023899042013-08-07T23:30:00.000-04:002013-08-07T23:30:01.415-04:00Joanna Wins Crawling!Aaaaand, she's off!<br />
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-5781086938515912372013-08-06T00:57:00.001-04:002013-08-06T01:00:43.522-04:00Sisters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I wasn't sure how Alice would adjust to gaining a sister. </div>
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And, I have to admit, for the first few months of Joanna's life I was't sure how I was going to adjust to Alice's gaining a sister either. The sleep! The meals! The schedules! The nursing! The one being loud when the other one was napping! </div>
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And, I can't say that it's all roses 100% of the time. I mean, Alice still sometimes completely flips out at the prospect of having to share something with Joanna, or kicks her accidentally-on purpose, or rips away the very thing that Joanna is lovingly rotating around and around and around in her hand. </div>
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For example, just last week, I stopped Alice as she was climbing into the stroller to inform her that she would be walking and Jo would be the one riding in the stroller. She stared at me with wild, horrified, disbelieving eyes, and began the craziest sounding laughter that turned into crying that I have ever heard. "You're JOKING, right? RIIIGHT?"(LAUGH-LAUGH-cry?-cry-CRY-WAIL.) It was tragic. I have high hopes for her future career as a star on the Lifetime network.</div>
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Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, the nice sisterly stuff. All that is just a preface to my main point, which is this: right now, these two little ladies are a perfect match for each other.<br />
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I can tell that they have very different personalities. We were at Mass on Sunday, and Joanna was standing on our pew, facing backwards and beaming and graciously chattering with the family behind us while making eye contact with each of them. At that very moment, Alice was at our feet, lying on top of the very narrow kneeler, trying not to expire from boredom. Every now and then she would sigh dramatically, lose her balance and topple onto the floor. The noise from her tumble was only exceeded by the noise from her stage whisper "I'M OKAY! I'M OKAY!" while clambering back into position on the six inch wide kneeler.<br />
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<i>Jo Beeeean. Summersault tiiiiiiiiime. </i></div>
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Alice pretty much operates at two speeds when it comes to her sister:<br />
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Speed One: All up in her grill<br />
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Speed Two: Further up in her grill<br />
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Tonight at dinner, she proposed that we all tell jokes to Joanna. She started.<br />
"RUTABEGA!" Shouted right at Jo.<br />
Crazy baby guffaws and insane three year old cackles ensued.<br />
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Joanna hangs on every word Alice says. Every syllable of invented Alice-ese that is barked at her from a distance of 1 inch from her face is received with delight and appreciation.<br />
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And without fail, the minute Alice starts laughing, Little Sister starts cracking up too. Chuckling her little baby chuckle with the high pitched squeak at the end, and banging her hand up and down like an old man slapping his knee.<br />
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<i>Here, Jojo. It's a block on a cloff. For you.</i> </div>
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Alice is also very, very loving toward her sister. I can't tell you how heart warming it is to hear an off-key alphabet song being sung/yelled in the back seat whenever the baby starts to get fussy. And guess what? It almost always works to soothe her.<br />
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The other day, I spied Alice patting Joanna on the back while saying, <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">"I love you, Jo. You're my marry. We're married."</span></div>
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<i>I gave the princess crown to Jo. She looks so fancy.</i> </div>
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All this to say that now that these two are turning into such devoted companions, it makes my job easier and so, so much more satisfying. It is such a joy to sit back and watch these two sisters get to know one another.Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-59320267958873808402013-07-31T12:57:00.001-04:002013-07-31T12:57:22.004-04:00Upstanding CitizenLook who has figured out how to pull herself up to standing.<br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">She's pretty pleased with herself.</span></div>
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Alice is also pleased to have found a whole new way to play with her sister.<br />
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Things are getting fun around here!</div>
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<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-54814142816202812552013-07-25T00:31:00.001-04:002013-07-25T00:31:33.429-04:00Three YearsWe celebrated Alice's third birthday last Friday.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Grammy and Grampy came in from Indiana for the weekend, and o</span>n the morning of the big day, those of us who didn't have to go to work (everyone but Matt) headed down to Santa Cruz to check out the Seymour Marine Discovery Center. <br />
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It was a really neat place, with all sorts of underwater creatures to see...</div>
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...and touch.</div>
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And it was located on a beautiful spot on the coast. </div>
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We shared a lunch picnic outside.<br />
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And then made our way to the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk for some good old fashioned rides.<br />
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<i>[I'm really hoping that this license plate isn't available when Alice turns 16.]</i></div>
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A quick snooze in the car, and the birthday girl was ready to continue the celebration at home with a family cookout and cake.<br />
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It was the perfect way to celebrate our sweet girl.</div>
<br />Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-49910705525084062722013-07-23T00:08:00.000-04:002013-07-23T00:24:41.852-04:00On the Verge of Camping: Part Two (We Came, We Camped, We Conquered)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0878-543d-80d7-8f59036c0716"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now, for the much-anticipated, anticlimactic ending to <a href="http://mattandmaryjacobs.blogspot.com/2013/07/on-verge-of-camping-part-one.html">On the Verge of Camping: Part One</a>, I present to you, lone reader, On the Verge of Camping: Part Two (We Came, We Camped, We Conquered). </span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0878-7710-c51c-f2fb1d16d069"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We figured that nothing would be more patriotic for the Fourth of July than spending time in the great outdoors, so in lieu of planning on the usual fireworks and watermelon, we reserved a cabin for the night in a state park a bit north of San Francisco.</span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0878-9b20-69dd-b3844133afcc"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The cabin, in Samuel P. Taylor State Park near Point Reyes National Seashore, was a lot nicer than I expected. It even had electricity, which I was not expecting and which made me feel kind of like I was cheating on the whole camping thing. It didn’t have it’s own bathroom inside though, so... not cheating?</span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0878-c07f-9840-ab3f2e2cb870"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We slept there this time. I promise. Actually, I mostly dozed off and on throughout the night while shifting around on the loudest plastic mattress that ever was and intermittently shining my flashlight out the window to catch any wildlife that might be trying to gnaw through the window glass to come inside and eat my children or use my toothbrush.</span></b><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w_2vPW8dFMY/UeAPW6PLp7I/AAAAAAAAGL8/yUmMbW1UxUQ/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w_2vPW8dFMY/UeAPW6PLp7I/AAAAAAAAGL8/yUmMbW1UxUQ/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0878-e50e-326f-59b942e843ad"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the way home the next day, we pulled over to admire some harbor seals that we noticed in the water. I was surprised at how active those beasts were. I couldn’t tell just by looking at them with the nude eye, but when I looked through the zoom lense on my camera, it was like they were all doing a group dance a la West Side Story or Bring it On. Who would have thought that blubber could move like that? </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-1163-19ba-4cef130e1d5a"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We stopped at Muir Woods on the way home. It was ridiculously crowded and Matt very kindly offered to drop the girls and me off at the entrance so he could go park the car way back where we had seen available parking spots on the road leading in. </span></b><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAzwdWlzqx4/UeAP0nZHBJI/AAAAAAAAGNo/YiaHGosqOy0/s1600/IMG_1116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QAzwdWlzqx4/UeAP0nZHBJI/AAAAAAAAGNo/YiaHGosqOy0/s1600/IMG_1116.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-4333-8c32-29de1bb45ad4"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unfortunately, after five years of marriage, it seems that Matt and I have yet to perfect our nonverbal communication skills. Just as I was shutting the trunk so that he could go park the car miles and miles away, a spot opened up right in front of me. I tried to get his attention, but he mistook my wild arm flapping and urgent facial expression, which I'm pretty sure are the universal sign for, “Sweetheart, please back up the car and park right here in this spot next to me that’s about to be available,” to instead mean, “Drive quickly away from us and look for parking elsewhere.” </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-63f9-47ec-62605dd45ad5"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now that we're letting it all out, I'll go ahead and tell you that I guess we could also stand to work on our verbal communication skills. You see, upon parting at the parking lot, we agreed that we would meet up “at the forest,” which I took as an understanding that the girls and I would pretty much stay put. Matt assumed it meant that we’d be meeting at the main entrance to the forest (the one with the big sign and the entry fee collection). Tomayto - Tomahto, am I right? </span></b><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fK6t-bf5F3E/UeAPn-dRg2I/AAAAAAAAGM8/rI9PgsnejmM/s1600/IMG_1054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fK6t-bf5F3E/UeAPn-dRg2I/AAAAAAAAGM8/rI9PgsnejmM/s1600/IMG_1054.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-88b7-55c8-d956c3cc3c0b"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, the girls and I waited; and we waited; and we talked about poison oak; and we went to the bathroom; and we observed a tourist who found no use for the stall door, or the toilet seat, or toilet paper, or soap and water (I guess I wouldn't either if during the whole bathroom operation I touched literally nothing else besides the waistband on my own pants); and we waited; and we identified poison oak; and we talked about the lady in the bathroom; and we asked strangers if they had cell reception (no one did); and we waited.</span></b><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3by961Ig2zM/UeAPqjcbf7I/AAAAAAAAGNE/isVNeqyfb6g/s1600/IMG_1058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3by961Ig2zM/UeAPqjcbf7I/AAAAAAAAGNE/isVNeqyfb6g/s1600/IMG_1058.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-b346-50d6-74f581c49a27"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our patience was wearing a little thin, but we were hanging in there when, about 45 minutes into our separation, I observed Matt up on a path a bit above the one where we had taken up residence. </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was so very relieved to see him walking towards us, so I waved excitedly. He continued walking (briskly! jogging, even!) towards us, and then he arrived to a spot on his path that was about parallel to where we were on our path. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Why is he not turning in to cross onto our path?," I wondered. My wave became less excited and more frantic, and I called out his name. But! Then! Was that a hand wave? And a grunt of recognition? Yes, I thought so. If not a wave, then certainly a finger wiggle. And definitely a noise of some sort.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Communication snafu number three. You see, I assumed that the finger wiggle/grunt combo meant, “Hello there. I see you all. I'm so glad we're reunited. I'll be right there" So, when he continued the walk-jog away from us, I was quite certain that he was just going to go ahead a little bit to see if his path connected to our path and then loop around to meet us. </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About thirty minutes later, I began to wonder if I had misinterpreted the wiggle/grunt. Or if I had hallucinated my husband. Did I even have a husband? Where did these children come from? </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-b346-50d6-74f581c49a27"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Turns out, he hadn’t heard me at all. Or seen us. Or finger wiggled. Or grunted. (In retrospect and knowing Matt, the not grunting part makes a lot of sense.) </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-d798-84a3-0ed163b2ba50"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyways, we finally reunited and all was well. We had a hearty chuckle at our merry mix-up (in the words of Tobias F</span></b><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">ü</span></span><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">nke<span style="background-color: white;">) </span></span></b><b style="border: 0px; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and then headed into Muir Woods. I was relieved to learn that the scraggly path that the girls and I had been waiting on for the last 90 minutes was not, as I thought, Muir Woods proper but the trail leading from some of the parking spots to the entrance. </span></b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtW8-2v5EDc/UeAPxAtGqOI/AAAAAAAAGNc/2H_z7vTGptQ/s1600/IMG_1098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtW8-2v5EDc/UeAPxAtGqOI/AAAAAAAAGNc/2H_z7vTGptQ/s1600/IMG_1098.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7dc9ce99-0879-d798-84a3-0ed163b2ba50"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once we made it in, we found that the actual woods were stunning: filled with big, beautiful trees and enchanting light everywhere. I’d love to go back, perhaps on a weekday when it’s not so crowded. Definitely with walkie talkies.</span></b></div>
Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-74965599505709716732013-07-14T19:21:00.000-04:002013-07-14T19:33:54.416-04:00On the Verge of Camping: Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df21-6c30-1bb9-f938d7f67f8c"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went camping! </span></b></div>
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tfUH7DFd5LA/UeAPQq6xf5I/AAAAAAAAGLg/KUYhfovj-SY/s640/IMG_0840.JPG" width="640" /></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df22-a47e-570c-91c4defb5af7"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was something that had been on my bucket list for a while, so once the girls and I discovered the perfect spot a mere 25 minutes from our house, I knew that it was time for our first family wilderness expedition and campout.</span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df23-8efc-7f1c-34d966e94683"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, a few Friday afternoons ago, I loaded up the car with all the necessary equipment and food, and the girls and I swung by Neckflicks and busted Matt out early so we could enjoy some time in the untamed wilderness before it got too dark. </span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df23-8efc-7f1c-34d966e94683"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dkGvp2kHyo8/UeAOz-E-9sI/AAAAAAAAGJc/LraTi2D06jY/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; white-space: normal;" width="640" /></span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df23-8efc-7f1c-34d966e94683"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the park, we were pleased to discover that Alice could locate campsite number seven, the one we had reserved, by pointing to the large "#7" on the park map handed to us upon entry. We tucked our orienteering skills away for future use. The cargo space in Joanna’s stroller was full to capacity with beer and brats, so we had to load our collapsable aluminum captains chairs onto our shoulders, making the journey especially grueling. My experience hiking the Inca Trail was a boon to the family at this point, when spirits were lagging.*</span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df25-ef7a-8b80-dd124fb8e4f0"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once camp was established, we knew that survival priority number one would be locating a source of water. We couldn’t believe our luck when we discovered a faucet right at our campsite. </span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--7I6YlvUGeM/UeAOpRV1LPI/AAAAAAAAGJE/eJDx5UPjWlo/s1600/IMG_0676.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df25-9043-bd2a-848ba5fc0012"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We then set off on a reconnaissance mission to explore the surrounding area, look for droppings, follow animal tracks, and identify any threats to our safety in the surrounding forest. Having found none, we hastened back to the campsite, as it was nearly four o’clock, and nightfall was fast approaching.</span></b></div>
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<img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-csVLR_5sUlk/UeAO18IA4cI/AAAAAAAAGJk/Rs_AlMylTP8/s1600/IMG_0716.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df26-fe01-8d77-02f9c78fc105"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Back at camp, we reflected on how nice it was to just be together in the woods with few distractions. But for the noise from the thirty or so other campers in the park that evening, it was absolutely pin-drop quiet. We were so pleased to be joining the ranks of nature lovers like Daniel Boone, H.D. Thoreau, and Timothy Treadwell. </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df26-bf91-a12e-169f8afe6389"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As centuries of outdoorsmen have done before us, we basked in the glow of a fire that we coaxed to life with our hands, great effort, finesse, and a bag of charcoal that came presoaked in lighter fluid and, later, a firestarter log. </span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oZZCml43DBc/UeAPRyuXmuI/AAAAAAAAGLk/ewf85waihio/s1600/IMG_0858.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df27-c3ef-4ae8-e5f865aa7766"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our appetites stoked by fresh air and physical labor, we ate and drank heartily from the provisions we had packed. </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df31-802a-568a-2f22bc4ea952"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> After dinner, we invented the most charming dessert that I feel I must share with you all. Noticing that the texture of marshmallows could be improved by roasting them over the fire, we sandwiched a few toasty ‘mallows and some chocolate pieces between two graham crackers. I know it sounds crazy, but our zany creation was absolutely delicious! Alice declared it to be “gooey-er and gooey-er” and kept asking us for some more of the nameless dessert.</span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OWNnxgfa8Us/UeAPMIGTLeI/AAAAAAAAGLE/BZpJkcNSeUY/s1600/IMG_0815.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df32-fd29-8243-ba32e5389203"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After we had eaten all we could and exhausted our repertoire of campfire tales, we doused the fire with water and watched the great clouds of smoke and steam billow up. Alice found them to be "perfectly wonderful."</span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iitbDUIBoE0/UeAPOoa5JRI/AAAAAAAAGLQ/6MWvVf6fMMw/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df33-a6cf-f591-be4bcc908862"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We broke camp, retraced our steps back to our transport vehicle, and drove back home with the smell of firewood lingering on our clothes, bratwurst juices lingering on our pants, baby food and spit-up lingering on my shirt, and dirt lingering on the sticky marshmallow residue lingering on our fingers, mouths, cheeks, and hair.</span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZLtErfVQgq8/UeAPPXpWV1I/AAAAAAAAGLU/hzaJKCevwpQ/s1600/IMG_0829.JPG" style="text-align: center;" width="640" /><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df33-1a1b-be8e-49157d2b4984"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alice was deep in the throes of a sugar crash/nature high duet as we made our way home. Driving out of the park, she offered us her observations on the experience: "Dad, we're in nature. Recycling. It's so beautiful and so trees." We hurried home, with four little eyelids in the back seat getting droopier and droopier.</span></b><br />
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<img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W3_YtPjyUkk/UeAO_if4BxI/AAAAAAAAGKU/IddAyb4ZUPA/s1600/IMG_0752.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df34-c683-083b-b01cf31b248f"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Up in the front of the car, Matt and I congratulated each other for being such intrepid, adventure-courting parents. We would return home triumphant, having survived, nay, thrived, during our sojourn in the wilderness. </span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df34-7196-3487-3f1ef26a6ff0"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went camping! </span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df34-7196-3487-3f1ef26a6ff0"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bucket list goal: completed.</span></b></div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df35-c2f1-c4c9-c1adb230e861"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What’s that you say? </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sleep in a tent? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All night? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Outside?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Heavens no, we didn’t do that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Is that something that most campers do? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I see. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That would explain the snickers and head scratching we received from our fellow campers during our 8pm victory march back to our car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, you’re telling me that we didn’t actually go camping? </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Please don’t tell Alice.</span></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df35-787c-ec83-f7aebf4c408b"><b id="docs-internal-guid-4fedbe94-df35-787c-ec83-f7aebf4c408b"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*I did not hike the Inca Trail. I did, however, make all of the preparations to do so, including, my top action item: purchasing 10 or so Snickers bars to keep up my energy along the way. Unfortunately, my traveling companion contracted a relentless case of Montezuma’s Revenge so we had to cancel our plans and hide out in our Cuzco hotel for three days while she recovered and I ate Snickers bars. </span></b></b></div>
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-91737604255581482882013-07-07T15:24:00.000-04:002013-07-07T15:28:57.456-04:00Friends and Family<span style="font-family: inherit;">One major downside to living in California is that we're far from lots of people we love. The upside to our location, however, is that we've been able to spend more quality time with some others of our favorite people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeff and Matt became friends in college, and now that we're all grown up, Jeff and his lovely <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16px;">fiancée</span> Julia, who live up in San Francisco, have become family friends. Alice adores her godfather Jeff, to a large degree because she has finally found someone unrelated to her who is willing to indulge her goofy sensibilities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are also beyond excited that Cousin Dylan is, at least for now, just a very short plane ride (or a longish car ride) away in Southern California. I know that doesn't sound so close, but just knowing that we're in the same state and that we could drive if we wanted to is very comforting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He and Vola tagged along recently when a work trip brought Jason to our area.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first day they were here, Vola and I didn't make it out of the house with the kids at all because one out of the three kids was napping or failing Quiet Time 101 the whole time.</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aEpziQxdpms/UdeT4n4A-PI/AAAAAAAAF6E/Cs7ldwRVYcw/s1600/IMG_0643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aEpziQxdpms/UdeT4n4A-PI/AAAAAAAAF6E/Cs7ldwRVYcw/s1600/IMG_0643.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning, however, we hit the sidewalk as soon as the two little kids woke from their morning naps and we enjoyed nearly sixty whole minutes at the park until it was time to go home for lunch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We could have used an extra set of hands (actually we could have used two extra sets: one to wrangle the third kid and the second to hand us snacks and drinks all day).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One thing I'm learning as we're a few months into our second big move is that hanging out with good friends and family can make any place begin to feel more like home. </span></div>
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-54539070538114885312013-06-29T12:07:00.002-04:002013-06-29T12:07:54.893-04:00Just Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UJ-Zdig4nU/UcRrAGZQyMI/AAAAAAAAFvo/tEMZffwou-Q/s1600/IMG_0561.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0UJ-Zdig4nU/UcRrAGZQyMI/AAAAAAAAFvo/tEMZffwou-Q/s1600/IMG_0561.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-15443196894836034972013-06-26T20:10:00.000-04:002013-06-27T00:43:43.514-04:00Stanford Picnic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One morning a few weeks ago, the girls and I packed a picnic and a blanket and headed over to Palo Alto to see what Stanford had to offer us. </div>
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Once we parked the car, we walked a bit until we found a grassy patch under the trees by the Cantor Art Center.<br />
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We shed our shoes and stretched out on the blanket.<br />
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And enjoyed being outdoors on a beautiful day.<br />
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When one of us started getting antsy, circles were run around the Rodin sculptures in the garden.<br />
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And when we needed a restroom we made our way to the arts center itself.<br />
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On our way in, Alice played "shake the bees" among the lavender. Then I realized that "shake the bees" meant trying to pinch the bees off of the top of the plants with her fingers.<br />
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We entered the Cantor Center by way of a spectacular, light-filled room and an array of bronze sculptures, including Rodin's famous The Thinker.<br />
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Spirits were lagging by the second floor, so we thought we'd just head home.<br />
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And maybe take a rest.<br />
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But, as we strolled by Memorial Court and the main quad, we realized that it was the perfect spot to take a spin on the balance bike.</div>
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Alice saw this innocent looking trio walking towards her and shouted, "Mom, hurry, we have to get away from these three monsters!" They actually didn't seem that offended.<br />
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She greeted The Burghers of Calais.</div>
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As the afternoon wore on, spirits once again dipped a bit.<br />
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There was a standoff which resulted in my having to pretend to leave so that Alice would follow me to the car. She began wailing but followed along behind me, her head hanging, shoulders drooping, feet dragging, and arms crossed in a pitiful self-embrace. I'm guessing that crying children trailing behind briskly walking mothers aren't common around campus, judging from the two different people who emerged from nearby buildings to investigate the racket and come to the rescue of what they were sure was a child in serious distress. <br />
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And even though we lost the car for a while and spent nearly 45 minutes wandering among what seemed like hundreds of identical buildings, we arrived back to our two hour parking spot after nearly four hours and saw that there was no ticket on our windshield. </div>
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We decided that Stanford has plenty to offer three adventurous girls on a lovely summer day!</div>
Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-20771187820832523012013-06-24T17:23:00.000-04:002013-06-24T18:43:13.820-04:00Adults OnlyWhen we decided to move to California, I joked that priority #1 would be to find a place to live and priority #2 would be to find <strike>a good</strike> an available babysitter. There were a couple of other items on the list that ended up taking precedence over the babysitter (like the grocery store and the gas station), but not many. Now that we've come to the end (I hope) of many months of dwelling in the logistics of new baby, new job, new city and new house, we've been making up for lost time by getting out on our own for some dates.<br />
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For our anniversary, Matt surprised me with an aerial tour of the San Francisco Bay. <br />
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Not surprisingly, I was a little nervous once I figured out what we would be doing. I irrationally became even more nervous when I saw that our pilot was wearing braces on his teeth. (I'm sorry, but they just scream "I'm really working hard in pre-Algebra this year" to me.) I relaxed a little when he told me that he had spent eight years in the Peruvian air force and had been flying for about twenty years. Then I became nervous again when, before takeoff, he asked for our help in "watching out for other planes in the sky." He barked some important sounding code commands into his radio: I relaxed. I noticed the "low fuel levels" light flickering on and off: nervous again. </div>
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Finally, once we got up in the sky, I loosened up and really enjoyed the experience. </div>
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This guy doesn't seem to get nervous.</div>
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It was quite an outing and a fantastic introduction to the Bay area. </div>
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A few weeks later, I planned a day of wine tasting in Napa to celebrate Matt's birthday. (Yeah...so maybe each of us was motivated by just a hint of self interest. <i>cough </i>airplanerideforme <i>cough</i> winetastingforMatt <i>cough</i>)</div>
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I decided that as long as we were in for a penny, we might as well be in for a pound, so I found someone to drive our car for us all day. I wasn't sure if the expense was going to be worth it, but...</div>
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...it most definitely was! We visited four different wineries and tasted a few different wines at each. It felt like a mini vacation in a day.<br />
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We can't wait to see what else Northern California has to offer. But, I promise that in the meantime, I'll return to our regularly scheduled programming of squishy baby photos and funny Alice stories. </div>
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Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-91396993428618928062013-06-07T00:01:00.000-04:002013-06-07T00:01:28.402-04:00Out of WordsIt's hard for me to know what to say about our Baby Jo. Our sturdy, pudgy, gregarious Joanna lights up our lives every day. But, unlike writing about her older sister, I can't just quote a bunch of funny things she says or record a few naughty deeds and call it a blog post. <br />
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I wrote up a whole post entitled "The Sweet Spot" in which I tried to accurately describe just exactly how delightful Joanna is these days without descending into something boring or trite. I failed in the description and succeeded in being both boring and trite.<br />
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In that discarded post, I described the little horizontal jig that Joanna performs when we rescue her from her crib or bouncy seat.<br />
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I explained how her hands are in constant motion, wrists rotating, palms flipping
from one side to the other; how she examines those two hands like a
scientist looking at a slide under a microscope; and how, even when I
try to still them as I feed her by giving her my finger
as an anchor to grab onto, she still maintains a steady open-shut regimen with her fingers on
mine, like she's running on a battery that needs to fully charge before she
can stop.<br />
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I gushed about her thighs, her dimply knuckles, and the roll of
pudge where her forearm meets her hand in a single crease, and I mentioned how she
follows Alice's every
move with an expression on her face that most people reserve for
watching
unicorns waltz with angels. <br />
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I wrote about how I can make her laugh by bicep curling her up to my face and nuzzling
into her neck, and I detailed the way that, when I pick her up and hold her right in front of me,
she looks right in my eyes, grabs my face with both hands, and beams as if to say, "You're mine. I'm so glad we're together." </div>
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It's all been said or thought by a million parents before. And that doesn't make any of the things about little babies at this stage any less wonderful, but it does make it hard to try to write them down without cringing. You may as well write about how delicious chocolate is, how exciting it is to see a rainbow, or how exhilarating it is to run a marathon (I wouldn't know, but I've read it enough times to know I don't want to read about it again). </div>
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One of the reasons I keep adding to this blog is so that one day, when the kids are grown up, I can look back on the photos and stories, and they will spark my otherwise terrible memory. I want to remember just how enchanting this baby is right now and how she makes me feel every time I squeeze her close. <br />
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So, rather than feebly describe the details, I'll just leave it at this: we're falling more and more in love with this little girl every day. Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-17044332887664663522013-05-29T19:09:00.001-04:002013-05-29T20:25:59.204-04:00New Normal<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We're getting used to a whole new life out here. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two little girls. Warm weather. Fantastic parks and library. A wild almost-three-year-old imagination. A chubby, jovial baby who can't stop watching her sister and beaming. An increasingly creative vocabulary. More night sleep.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Things are a-changin'.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alice has started calling Joanna "my baby." As in, "My baby is sleeping<span style="font-size: small;">;</span>" "My baby can't eat ice cream because she doesn't have any teef<span style="font-size: small;">;</span>" or "Mom, I fink you need to feed my baby." We
were talking about occupations the other night at dinner and I asked
Alice what she thought her job was. I was expecting an answer like
"swinging on swings" or "learning more about animals so that one
day I can fulfill my destiny by joining Diego and Baby Jaguar at the Animal Rescue
Center." However, without thinking for even a second, she answered,
"My job is to take care of my baby." And then my heart exploded.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">A<span style="font-size: small;">lthough A</span></span>lice's vocabulary is pretty great for a three year old, she does still commit some hilarious malapropisms<span style="font-size: small;">, and she always does so</span> proudly, loudly, and convincingly. We were talking about how it's important not to throw our trash on the ground, and a little while later <span style="font-size: small;">as</span> we were strolling around town she saw an apple core that someone had tossed on the sidewalk. S<span style="font-size: small;">he seized the opportunity<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">: </span></span></span></span></span></span>"Hey, look! Someone left an apple quarter on the ground. We call that...<i>[pause for dramatic effect and the emergence of a humungous, self-satisfied smile]...</i>GLITTER!"</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">W<span style="font-size: small;">e</span>'re all using <span style="font-size: small;">our imaginations a<span style="font-size: small;"> b<span style="font-size: small;">it more t<span style="font-size: small;">hese days<span style="font-size: small;">, as </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Matt and I<span style="font-size: small;"> have been del<span style="font-size: small;">i</span>vering butchered fairy tales and <span style="font-size: small;">flims<span style="font-size: small;">y </span>princess stories<span style="font-size: small;"> when <span style="font-size: small;">Alice </span>asks us</span></span>, </span>"<span style="font-size: small;">C</span>an I hear a story </span>from your mouf?" And, </span><span style="font-size: small;">I'm not sure where she got the idea that there were crocodiles all over our house, but we are now on the perpetual alert.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>The other day we had the following exchange:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Her: I have to go potty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: Okay, go ahead.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Her: But! <i>[She holds up her index finger to convey the gravity of what she's about to say.]</i> We have to find a potty that doesn't have a crocodile in it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: ...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The par<span style="font-size: small;">ks here in <span style="font-size: small;">Mountain View and in <span style="font-size: small;">the towns ne<span style="font-size: small;">arby are so <span style="font-size: small;">clean<span style="font-size: small;"> and well designed that we've been</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> having a lot of fun trying <span style="font-size: small;">new ones every week<span style="font-size: small;">. E</span></span>ven when we're not meeting anyone in particular, Alice has no trouble making <span style="font-size: small;">friends</span>. Often<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>she targets children who are about five years older than she is and far too busy doing big kid things to even look in her <span style="font-size: small;">direct<span style="font-size: small;">ion</span></span>. <span style="font-size: small;">On t<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">h</span>e day I took these ph<span style="font-size: small;">otos,</span></span></span> Alice spent a good thirty minutes<span style="font-size: small;"> sh<span style="font-size: small;">adowing a <span style="font-size: small;">pair of t<span style="font-size: small;">en<span style="font-size: small;">-year-old girls</span></span></span></span></span>. She squeal<span style="font-size: small;">ed</span> at their antics, narrat<span style="font-size: small;">ed</span> their adventures ("Haha! She runned up the slide! She throwed the sand!"), and issu<span style="font-size: small;">ed</span> cautions ("Careful, gores! You shouldn't climb over that fence!" "No running!"). When it<span style="font-size: small;"> was </span>time to go, she interrupt<span style="font-size: small;">ed their play</span> to announce, "I have to go home now. Sorry. It's time to go home,<span style="font-size: small;"> gores</span>." They g<span style="font-size: small;">a</span>ve her a confused look as if they<span style="font-size: small;"> were</span> just then noticing her for the first time, and then shrugged and continued playing as Alice hop<span style="font-size: small;">ped</span> onto the platform on the back of the stroller and chatter<span style="font-size: small;">ed</span> <span style="font-size: small;">all the way home </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">about h<span style="font-size: small;">er</span> hilarious<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>new friends<span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We've* slipped into the habit of having Alice watch the iPad almost every afternoon after quiet time. I know, I know. Why should I need an hour of iPad quiet time immediately following <span style="font-size: small;">nin<span style="font-size: small;">ety</span></span> minutes of standard issue stay-in-your-room-and-maybe-fall-asleep-but-usually-just-go-to<span style="font-size: small;">-the-bathroom</span>-poop-in-the-little-potty-and-try-to-transfer-it-to-the-big-toilet-and-try-to<span style="font-size: small;">-"clean"-i<span style="font-size: small;">t</span>-with-a-Cloro<span style="font-size: small;">x</span>-wipe-but-just-</span>make-a-mess-fit-for-a-truck-stop-restroom-and<span style="font-size: small;">-also-slam-the-door-a-bunch-of<span style="font-size: small;">-times</span></span> quiet time? All I can say is that we started allowing it as a bribe to get her to stay in her room for the standard issue quiet time, and now none of us is willing to return to a life without that additional hour of peace. Especially not Alice<span style="font-size: small;">:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alice: "Hey, Mom, can you help me find the iPad so I can watch a video?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: "Well, I think you forgot to ask <span style="font-size: small;">first </span>if it was okay for you to watch a video."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alice: "Oh, well, did you do a good job <span style="font-size: small;">at</span> quiet time today, Mom?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: "Um, yes."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alice: "Well, then it's okay to watch a video<span style="font-size: small;"> now.</span> Please get the iPad down."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: "Okay. Here you are, darling. A<span style="font-size: small;">l<span style="font-size: small;">so,</span> should we have frosting for dinner or just bacon and gummy vitamins?</span>"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">* Who's "we," you ask? It's just me really, as I'm usually the only one <span style="font-size: small;">home with the <span style="font-size: small;">kids at th<span style="font-size: small;">at</span> time of day, </span></span>but I think it makes me sound less culpable if I say that "we" are to blame. </span></span></div>
Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7569933205959338278.post-24813970807227115562013-05-21T18:53:00.002-04:002013-05-21T18:53:45.407-04:00If a Tree Falls in the Forest...<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When she thinks no one is looking or listening, Alice is at her best.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now,
don't get me wrong. By "best," I don't mean most well behaved or
precocious. I mean that she lets down her guard and follows her
instincts and does whatever it is that seems like the most Alice thing
to do at that moment. It's almost always something she knows she shouldn't be
doing, something that leaves a big mess, or</span><a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/142063728/You-Tube" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/142063728/You-Tube">something</a>
that results in my receiving emails about a subscription to the Mickey
Mouse Clubhouse YouTube channel that I am quite certain I never signed
up for.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7VKh7hW2VA/UZRKzrLs49I/AAAAAAAAFj0/vi25Z1pomxw/s1600/IMG_9625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7VKh7hW2VA/UZRKzrLs49I/AAAAAAAAFj0/vi25Z1pomxw/s1600/IMG_9625.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Due
to a previous incident involving Crayola bath water coloring tablets, I make it a point to check on her
after she's been messing around in the <span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: small;">bath</span></span>room for more than 10
minutes. (If you're interested in the previous incident that led to this policy, just visualize what Willy Wonka's murder scene might look like if it happened in my upstairs bathroom.) I knock on the door, and depending on what she's doing inside,
she sings out, "Don't come iiiiin!" (usually) or, "Come iiiiin!" (occasionally) as if she's in her office and I'm her secretary coming in to give her a message. Her answer, by the way, has nothing to do with whether she's finished going to the bathroom and everything to do with whether she's creating another disaster scene or not.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhlOJ47IGCM/UZRK2PJyrUI/AAAAAAAAFkM/NxKnyRdvlyY/s1600/IMG_9648.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhlOJ47IGCM/UZRK2PJyrUI/AAAAAAAAFkM/NxKnyRdvlyY/s1600/IMG_9648.JPG" width="426" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The other day I left some chopped up chocolate on the counter to use in a birthday cake for Matt. I ran upstairs to do something and<span style="font-size: small;"> c</span>ame back down<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>to find Alice, mouth and hands sticky and brown, holding a chunk of chocolate in her hand. "I was just testing to make sure it wasn't too hot," she explained. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_kU84l9L5m4/UZRK0vvOFLI/AAAAAAAAFj4/WTDRdzsEFNw/s1600/IMG_9630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_kU84l9L5m4/UZRK0vvOFLI/AAAAAAAAFj4/WTDRdzsEFNw/s1600/IMG_9630.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">One of my favorite things to do is pause for a few minutes outside her bedroom door when I hear her in there at night or during (not so) quiet time. The other night, as part of the ongoing torture that is sleep training a four-month-old,</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> I found myself perched on the steps between Alice's room and Joanna's room at 1am. I stayed long after Joanna had fussed herself to sleep though, because Alice had woken up and was on a roll, yakking (to herself? to her one hundred stuffed buddies that she must! sleep with every night? to an imaginary friend?) and I couldn't stop listening. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nes_3mv4kv0/UZRK4KY3M0I/AAAAAAAAFlk/kkH_RcBpIJs/s1600/IMG_9671.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="496" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nes_3mv4kv0/UZRK4KY3M0I/AAAAAAAAFlk/kkH_RcBpIJs/s1600/IMG_9671.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Her monologue went something like this: </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Everyone! WAIT!! Throw that to Diego! </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Lookkit! She's eating the gum! </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;">Ooooops! [<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">L</span></span>aughter] I forgot something!</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember when Dad throwed
the snowball? Haha, that was funny. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">HEY! You knoooooow? I'm Alice.
Yeah! [Peals of laughter; Squeals] </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">That was funny. [More hysterical
laughter] </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">That was funny."</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-juzBlDsQPXY/UZRK2-15pnI/AAAAAAAAFkU/CZh272q2wZU/s1600/IMG_9665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-juzBlDsQPXY/UZRK2-15pnI/AAAAAAAAFkU/CZh272q2wZU/s1600/IMG_9665.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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You may be wondering about the body art on display in these photos. I have only a few comments to make on the matter: </div>
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1. Dry erase marker does come off of human skin with a decent amount of scrubbing.</div>
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2. It does not come off of walls or rugs with mere scrubbing.</div>
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3. Since, according to Alice, the marker got all over her body "by accident," I'm going to start an awareness campaign to prevent accidents like this from happening in the future. I think we can all agree that dry erase markers shouldn't be allowed to deface our young accidentally. </div>
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4. This exact accident happened three separate times in two days. Isn't there some piece of old wisdom we could apply here? Oh yes, I think it goes like this: "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, put the markers up high out of reach, for goodness' sake."</div>
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Joanna's face registers disappointment, but she's taking detailed notes about pulling off stunts like these in a few years. </div>
Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02829375160706152011noreply@blogger.com0