Usurped.

This morning E told me that talk time was her favourite part of the day yesterday.

I have been looking forward to it all day. Actually, since it ended last night. We had an early dinner, an early bath and lots of time to chat. We read our books, gave hugs and kisses, and then she said it. E turned to me and whispered: "Is it okay if I ask dad to do talk time with me tonight?"

Equal parts heart exploding with happy that she wants to share this new special thing with her dad and heart exploding with disappointment that I'm missing out. Rest assured that dad will be thoroughly grilled when he gets down here.

What's taking him so long anyway??

Hmph.

Elleafuint

On Saturday, E decided that she wanted to practice her letters. So we sat together at the dining room table as she practiced her letters and corrected me as I attempted to practice mine. After a while I decided that I had had enough practice and started taking pictures of her. I thought it was adorable how focused she was. I could tell that she was really thinking hard, but I couldn't really see what she was writing. When she was finished she showed me her card and said "Look what word I wrote!"

I took the card and read "E-l-l-e-a-f-u-i-n-t". Elephant! She has been working on her letters a lot at school, and she's doing really well with her reading at home, but the idea that she could put it all together to think out and then write out a big word phonetically just blew me away.

And then:

"T-r-q-a-i-s". Turquoise! Way to set the bar high, kiddo. 

Talk Time

Tonight was the first of hopefully many, many bedtime chat sessions for E and I. Maybe in a week or two I'll offer J a chance at it…but maybe not. Judging by how tonight went, I'm hoping we can do this well into the University years. Which might be awkward for her roommate. And even more awkward for her boyfriend. Perfect.

Usually E gets an "extra thing" before bed. It started when she got into the habit of calling us 532 times after we put her to bed for all kinds of ridiculous reasons. If she managed not to call at all one night, then the next time she would get an "extra thing" after stories and before bed, like an extra story, an extra song, an extra cuddle, etc. She's long since done away with the calling, but the extra thing kind of stuck. So I decided to tweak it and make it a little more special by instituting "talk time". During talk time I get into bed with E and we turn out the lights and we talk. She can tell me or ask me anything she wants, and we just chat. 

Here's what we chatted about tonight:

How did the meteor kill ALL of the dinosaurs?

How are leaves made?

Let's practice some yoga breathing!

How are all of the things that are pretend actually real in Disneyworld?

How does magic work?

My hope is that one day she'll have something to share that might be so important to her that if she couldn't figure out a way to say it in the hustle and bustle of the day, in the glare of daylight, when she only had half of my attention, that she knows she'll have a chance during talk time. I want this to be a place for us to really connect every single day, a ritual that she can count on when she needs to get something off of her chest, or to hear a few words of encouragement. I want her to go to sleep every night feeling fully loved and supported, and I feel like this is one way I can make that happen. 

So many nights I feel like we rush through bedtime preparations, and I'm afraid that I leave her with the feeling that we just want to get back downstairs as fast as possible…because usually we just want to get downstairs as fast as possible. But by taking the time to chat with her tonight, I felt so much more relaxed and happy as I said goodnight. This is rapidly becoming my favourite part of the day. I can't wait to find out what questions she has for me tomorrow night…

More Shameless Truth Telling

Oh sure - it's cute when SHE does it.

I have a confession to make.

Now, this is one that many of you will probably relate to and won't come as too much as a surprise, but I swear I never thought it would happen to me.

I am addicted to my cell phone.

I check it constantly. I refresh facebook all the time. I get antsy if I can't get to it at any point. I take it into the bathroom. **shame**

I remember a time, wayyyyy back before I purchased my first cell phone, walking into a public bathroom one day and hearing someone talking on their phone…mid-stream. I was horrified. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea of a conversation so important that it needed to be had right then and there. Ew. Fast forward to present day and I could be bursting at the seams and will still race frantically around the house searching for my phone so that I don't have to worry about having nothing to do in there. It's bad.

Part of the problem is the new data package I added on a few months ago. With the internet literally at my fingers every second of the day, it becomes difficult to ignore. And as a planner, refreshing my schedules to keep track of changes is like…well, it's almost the same feeling I get when things get particularly stressful and I sneak into the kitchen and stick a chunk of something - anything - chocolate into my mouth and feel a wave of relief flood my body…okay, so I'm addicted to chocolate too. Please don't offer me any crack.

In any case, screens in general are taking up too much of my time and their time is up. No more mindless surfing, no more obsessive checking, no more stupid (albeit hysterical) you tube videos. I'm going to become a hands free mama. I've already started to make changes.

For instance:

This morning, when the alarm (which is the alarm on my phone, naturally) went off, I turned it off and walked away from it, rather than taking it into bed to check a couple of things to "help me wake up". Of course what I did instead was crawl back into bed and oversleep until E wandered in, but no one said that this would be seamless.

And get this, I didn't even look in the direction of my phone until I grabbed it to put it into my purse on my way out the door. Even then, I didn't check it! Not until I had driven E to school, then driven myself to work, settled in and was waiting for my first client did I bother to pull it out. And when I did, I checked the three emails that were unread (Oooh! 3 at a time is much more exciting than 1 at a time!), sent off a quick text to my husband and stashed it again - WITHOUT checking facebook!

Speaking of driving, I have become abominable with cell phone use while driving. Totally irresponsible, unsafe and definitely not a good role model. But that was before today. Today, and from now on with no exceptions, the phone does not even make an appearance while I'm driving. Not even J's requests to text him when I'm almost there to pick him up will sway me. He can stand outside and wait or I can sit in the car and wait. Imagine.

Today, in the time I have before picking E up from school, I have allowed myself to check facebook once. I didn't linger, just opened a couple of links about the situation in Turkey (and once again I am so grateful for the privileged life I have), snickered at a few statuses and moved on. Checked tomorrow's schedule once and moved on. On to Handsfreemama. She has some wisdom.

If you want to be less of a jerk vis a vis your screens and your loved ones, I'm starting by referencing this list as much as possible. Also, how much do you love this idea?

Once I'm finished this post, I'm going to get some snacks ready for after-school park time and head out to get my girl. And I will not so much as lay a finger on this laptop until she is in bed. I'm a little anxious at the idea, but I think I can do it.

Speaking of bedtime, we're starting a new thing tonight called talk time. More wisdom from handsfreemama. I'm super excited and I'll let you know how it goes.

In case you're wondering, yes, it does seem to me that I am incapable of creating a single brilliant idea on my very own. I do appear to need spoon-feeding from any number of mom blogs and parenting websites. Perhaps this impending crackdown on screen time will open up more time for, you know, independent thought. Maybe I'm a genius under all of these technological shackles…

The reception on this coaster is terrible.

Wheels

Another big girl step was made in the Cowfam yesterday. A bike! This bike:

I think she looks pretty good on it:

Even better riding it!

J and I had a rare moment of time together during daylight hours when neither one of us was exhausted from a long day, and we came to a couple of conclusions. Namely, that we need to live a healthier lifestyle as a family. More activity, less inactivity. More healthy food, less junk, less late night binging. And, over a greasy breakfast of eggs and hash browns, we came up with a game plan. Every night - yep - every night, between the hours of 6pm and 7pm, the Cowfam will engage in Family Exercise Time. Even Ralph. Ideally this will involve going to the park down the street where J & I can run. Ralph will have to get used to running on the leash, as opposed to his current habit of exploding into a jumping/growling/leash biting frenzy the minute I even consider a light jog. And E, while she quite enjoys running to school these days, will probably need the help of wheels to keep up. She already has a scooter, but we figured the more options the better. So now she has a bike. I wonder how long it will be before she asks for a car.

SaveSave

April snow brings…Summer?

People are always talking about how spring and fall are so short. I disagree. This year, for example, spring didn't even exist. I guess maybe Mother Nature is banking this one because she has awesome plans for an extra-long one next year? I'm not sure. All I know is that it was cold and snowy, then there was a day or two with temperatures of 3 degrees or so and then BAM! 20 degrees. Welcome, summer. I wasn't expecting you. Now let me be clear - I'M NOT COMPLAINING. It meant that our weekend looked like this:

April 28, 2013 ~ Ottawa, Ontario

Birthday party in the park!

Of course yesterday, I found myself shvitzing a bit more than I might like in the blazing sun. But - I'M NOT COMPLAINING. Mind you we need to restock the sunscreen, and I guess that means it's time to pack away all of the winter stuff and break out the sunhats, and it's not looking good for the grass seed we just put down what with there being no rain in the forecast for two weeks…but I'M NOT  - oh, forget it. I'm complaining. I miss spring, ok? Sigh.

Want to hear something interesting? Of course you do. I was going to post pictures of the last few Aprils, to contrast the weather from year to year. What I found, however, is that for the last 6 years we have been in a different city and/or country during the month of April. Which makes me think about the rant you were made to endure a couple of months ago about the trials and tribulations of being imprisoned in winter during the month of February. Could it be that I'm not quite as hard done by as I had imagined?? There must be some mistake.

Apr 28, 2007  ~ Newcastle, England

Just us. Don't ask about the stache.

Apr 2008 ~ Grenada

We aren't in the shot because we were busy making a baby.

April 21, 2009 ~ Toronto, Ontario

Look - there's a baby! 

Apr 2010 ~ Boston, Mass

Feeding the swans

Apr 3, 2013 ~ Santa Fe, NM

(Incidentally, on April 28 we were in Vegas without the short one. 

Funny, we forgot to take pictures.)

Apr 2012 ~ Brooklyn, NY

April 2014? It's anyone's guess!

Too many doctors in the house

I have been diagnosed with Neurofibromatosis Type I. By a four-year-old.

E and I were enjoying breakfast together this morning, chatting and making silly faces. At one point we were opening our eyes as wide as we could…when all of a sudden…her wide silly eyes took on a look of concern.

E: Uh, mom?
M: Mmmhmm?
E: I think there's something wrong with your eyes.
M: Oh, they're not actually that big, I was just opening them really wide.
E: No, I remember seeing a rash in dad's derm book, and I think you have it.
M: A rash? Where?
E: In your eyes. See? Right there.
M: I can't see my eyes. What does it look like?
E: Well, there's some orange, and some green, and it's all around inside your eyes, and it look just like in dad's derm book.
M: Let's go get a second opinion.

It turns out that my daughter believed she was seeing Lisch nodules, which are spots on the iris that are a symptom of Neurofibromatosis Type I (NF-I), a genetic disorder causing nervous system tumours. (Do yourself a favour and don't Google it.) Now obviously I don't have this…right?

E: Dad? DAD! I think mom has a rash from your derm book in her eyes. Can you look? MOM! Turn on the light! You need the light on.
J: Oh, I think you're talking about NF-I.
M: WHAT?!
J: Are you talking about the spots on the dark part of the eye?
E: Yeah! Does she have them?
J: I don't know…maybe…
M: WHAT??!!!
E: I told you mom.
J: Well, it's hard to tell because she has brown eyes.

At this point I decided to rescind my consent and terminate the examination. J has a doctor's appointment later this morning. I think I need a third opinion.

How much is that vacation in the window??

In three years time, I hope to be here. E has wanted to go to Hawaii ever since she first learned about volcanoes when she was about 2 1/2 years old. I've wanted to go for at least a couple of decades and J, well, J just needs a vacation. I think he'll take any place with a beach and no pager. In three years, residency will be over and that is a milestone worth celebrating in style. When he completed his PhD I took him to Vegas. When he finished medical school I took him out to a dinner in NYC that cost as much as our trip to Vegas. (Seriously.)  When he completes residency I think the only reasonable option is to take him to Hawaii.

Of course, we can't afford a trip to Hawaii. But we're taking steps to rectify that. At least one of us is. E has recently started receiving an allowance - presumably just for being cute, although we like to fool ourselves into thinking she's "earning" it. When we started it, we explained that part of her allowance each week would be for spending, part for saving, and part for donating. She asked what kinds of things she could save for, and we explained that it could be little things like a cd or a toy, or something bigger like a bike or a trip. She immediately announced "I want to save for Hawaii!" Now that's a plan I can get behind.

We collected all of the change in her various piggy banks and counted it up, and she decided that she wanted all of it to go to her Hawaii fund, along with part of her allowance. So, in Week 1 of Project Hawaii we are sitting at a cool $30.59. By my calculations we have raised about 0.6% of the cost. And after three years of squirreling away part of her allowance we'll have skyrocketed to 4.2%.

Hm. It looks like J and I might have to chip in on this one.

Priceless art and the preschoolers who create it

E had a birthday a couple of months ago and I keep meaning to tell you about it, but my daughter recently diagnosed me as suffering from short term memory loss (must be reverse genetics at work) on account of my forgetting to bring the juice bottle for her eagle to drink on the way to school, so I guess I have that to blame.

In any case, her birthday was super awesome and I've got some great pictures to prove it. Including this baby:

That is the totally impressive end result of about an hour of this:

Which then necessitated a bunch of this:

She's already planning her next birthday. So far she's going to be Ariel, and there will be more rainbows. If that's even possible.

The Menu

I thought I'd write up a handy list of E's dietary preferences/restrictions - you know, just a little guideline for those of you who might be called upon to look after her once in a while. Nothing serious, she's not a picky eater or anything. And she's super well-behaved. (Note: Might be best not to read any previous posts that may have been written on here about somebody else's kid, also named E.)

Here we go:

1. Loves tomatoes. Except in omelets.

2. Enjoys omeletes with all kinds of vegetables, meat and cheese. Except tomatoes.

3. Loves peppers. Except in pasta.

4. Enjoys pasta of any shape. Must have red sauce. Unless being packed for school lunch, where it must contain butter and peas. Lots of peas. Or corn. But peas are better. No peppers.

5. If pasta is erroneously prepared with a spinach-based sauce, adding honey will improve the flavour.

6. Likes cheese, but only if it's melted. Or not melted if she forgets that she only likes it melted. We might have Gramma Barby to blame for this one.

7. Always has room for dessert.

8. Happy to accept fruit for dessert, but prefers "something sugary".

9. Fruits must be served whole when possible. But please remember to remove the sticker.

10. Raisins can be added to anything to make it more palatable. Anything. Including dishes in which you would never want to see them. Like pea soup.

11. Soup is a big hit. Particularly hot and sour soup. Hold the "hot".

12. Food that is arranged into the shape of a human face is always appreciated. Carvings are also accepted, but are subject to intense scrutiny.

13. All-time favourite dinners include omelettes with blueberry pancakes. Also adores pancakes for breakfast. On the other hand, leftover pancakes from dinner served for breakfast the next morning will not be tolerated.

14. Other all-time favourite meals include pizza, especially with olives and sausage, hot dogs, especially the gigantic Costco variety and "girl cheese" sandwiches (yellow cheese, please).

15. Is a staunch proponent of the theory that everything tastes better at a restaurant.

Regrets, I have a few.

This morning I was impatient. I didn't yell or lose my temper, but I was crabby. Crabby in an embittered martyr kind of way (which is definitely the worst kind). It all started when I gave E a few minutes to play when she woke up, hoping that she would then be so appreciative that she would quickly and efficiently get ready for school. Snort.

She wanted to have exactly the same breakfast as I was having. I was having a smoothie. She didn't want that. So I sat with her while she ate her breakfast and made my smoothie later. Seemed like a good compromise.

She wanted me to read her Chirp magazine to her after I had already sat with her for ten minutes and had just gotten up to make her lunch.

She wanted me to read a chapter of The Little Prince as I was going upstairs to put on my makeup.

She wanted to pick out a tattoo to wear to school as I was brushing her teeth.

And, when we were all finally mostly ready and at the front door, when I was getting on my own boots and begging her to put on her rain pants, she began rifling through the bags of craft supplies I came home with yesterday, picking out all the pretty pastel eggs and spreading them out over the dining room table, asking if we could make an Easter wreath when we get home.

Of course we can. That's why I bought them. And how awesome is it that she is excited about doing it?  But that's not what I said, because I'm a jerk.

Instead I complained about how I'll have to clean up all the stuff she's taking out of the bags when she inevitable comes home and announces that she no longer has any interest in making an Easter wreath. Something about how frustrating it is when she continually asks me to do things when she knows that we don't have a lot of time in the mornings. Blah, blah, blah, crappy attitude. Mine, that is.

Her response was exactly what I deserved. She sat on the step, looking sad, no doubt feeling badly that mom was frustrated. Again. I told her at least five times on the way to school that she hadn't done anything wrong and I am often stressed out in the morning trying to remember everything and that I shouldn't have gotten impatient with her. I told her that I was super excited to make an Easter wreath with her, and that it made me really happy that she was excited about it too. She said "I'm just trying to make your life happier by making an Easter wreath with you." Ouch.

When we got to school I saw the little boy in her class whose father died last month, sitting outside the classroom with big, sad eyes.

At the grocery store there was a mom with her two boys and she was constantly touching them, playing with them, smiling.

In the mailbox there was a card from my friend who is fighting a terrible battle with cancer, thanking me for being there for her.

All reminders to stop getting caught up in the small stuff. Enjoy more. Let go more.

I'm writing this down because I want to remember it, and because I want E to read this one day. I'm sorry babe. I'm sorry for putting sadness into those eyes that were wide with excitement. I'm sorry for not sharing your enthusiasm, and for caring more about getting you to school on time than enjoying a spontaneous moment with you. I hope that by the time you read this, memories like this one are completely overshadowed by the ones when I decided to have what you were having for breakfast, I read just one quick page of your Chirp magazine, and stopped to show you all of the fun stuff I bought for us, so that you could think about it while you were at school and look forward to coming home to create with me. It would have made us about seven minutes late for school today. And it would have been totally worth it.

Sunday evenings are for walks. And now that we're past the awkward too-big-for-a-stroller-too-small-to-go-fast-enough-so-that-Ralph-doesn't-go-crazy stage, I'm hoping to make it a weekly tradition.

He really is a good sport. 

A hug is worth a thousand pictures

In a world where it is becoming increasingly difficult to bend that little girl of mine to my will, these tiny moments of unadulterated beauty are like sparkling drops of sunshine bursting through clouds.

E and I butt heads a lot. At first I exhausted much of my energy by digging in my heels, only to realize that she who speaks loudest does not, in fact, win anything other than a raging headache. Rational discussion is much more effective, but it only works in certain situations, like when she feels like listening. But there are times, and I know this because I used to be the daughter in this very situation, when it's not so much about right and wrong, or logic and reason, but about exerting some control in a world that has a lot of power of you. Sometimes E is going to do the exact opposite thing that I ask her to do, simply because she needs to know that she can.

I get it. And I even support it. To a point. It's the balance, as always, that I'm having trouble with. She needs to be able to make some of her own decisions, but she needs to understand that sometimes she doesn't have all of the resources to make them. She needs to be able to do her own thing, even if it's not what mom and dad would like, but she also needs to understand that, for the next decade or so anyway, our authority trumps her plans to take over the world.

One arena that is a frequent source of conflict is the "greeting". J and I have explained the importance of being polite and friendly when someone greets us. If someone says "Hello", we say "Hello" back. If someone asks us a question, we answer them. We don't need to (and shouldn't) run into a stranger's arms for a bear hug or engage in a twenty-minute conversation, but there are ways of behaving in polite society that simply make the world a nicer place to inhabit, and we encourage those behaviours. E is about 50/50 in this regard. Sometimes super friendly, waving and interacting with enthusiasm, sometimes sullen and distant, and occasionally a generally disobedient mess. Either way, she's looking for a response. I try not to give one, and instead discuss the situation after the fact, reinforcing what we consider to be appropriate behaviour. I don't know how it's going, but it's one of the little things in the grand scheme and I try not to make it more than that.

On the other hand, it's important that we take every opportunity to let loved ones know how happy we are to see them. It's not enough to talk about how excited we are to see Gramma and Papa for days, right up until the moment before we knock on the door, only to hide behind mama's legs and pretend they don't exist when they welcome us inside. It's just not cool. Loved ones get warm greetings, hugs, and answers to their questions. This is a bigger deal to me. I want my daughter to have an open and loving relationship with her family and close friends, not to be hampered by attention-seeking behaviour that can lead to emotional distance and resentment if left to fester.

Am I making too much of all of this? Probably. But it's just the way that I am. I overthink things, and make bigger deals than need to be made.

And what was the point in all of this? Oh, yes. Well, do you see those pictures up there? Those were the goodbye hugs for Gramma and Papa a few days ago. Totally unforced, totally voluntary, totally sincere. And while we all know how she feels about Gramma and Papa, it sure is beautiful when she forgets for just a minute about the need to control her world and just lets her emotions be her guide.

Playing like a 4-year-old

As parents, we are often left wondering if the idiosyncracies exhibited by our children are common among their peers, or whether it's "just them". At least I am. So it's always terribly refreshing to see other kids displaying the same behaviours. It comforts me to know that my child isn't the only crazy one. 

Take pretend play, for example. E loves to pretend. It's her favourite thing to do. The only problem is that I feel that, considering she loves it so much and does it so often, she should probably be better at it. Because, in my opinion, stating who you are pretending to be over and over again isn't really pretending…I mean, it's barely even playing. But she gets a big kick out of "Let's pretend that I'm Tiger Lily." … "I'm Tiger Lily."…"Remember, I'm Tiger Lily."…"Mom, do you remember that I'm Tiger Lily?"… Oh, I remember. It's just that I'm so bored that my brain has shut down so please forgive me if I don't address you as Tiger Lily every fifteen seconds so that you know that I know that you're TIGER LILY.

I feel that it's my job to try to progress things somewhat, that perhaps I can help her expand her imaginative abilities by conjuring up scenarios in which Tiger Lily might find herself. Now, to be clear, I'm not incredibly imaginative, but I'd like to be and so I try to be. But for the most part, any effort on my part to advance the plot in any way is instantly struck down in favour of simply running around shouting "I'm Tiger Lily! Loodoloodoloodoloodolooooo!" (Please note: Terribly racist "redskin singing" was learned from a live production of Peter Pan and not from terribly racist parents.)

Which leaves me to wonder, why does her imagination suck so badly?  

Enter our trip to Brooklyn and ten days spent with other 4-year-old extraordinaire, Zoey. E and Zoey pretended to be fairies for approximately 8.5 days out of 10. Sometimes one was Tinkerbell and the other was Periwinkle. Sometimes they were both Tinkerbell or both Periwinkle. Sometimes one was Silvermist and one was Fawn. Sometimes one was Rosetta and one was Silvermist. You get the idea. But I'll be damned if a plotline ever surfaced out of the hours of negotiation over character selection. I heard the phrase "But there has to be a Tinkerbell!" or "We can't both be Periwinkle!" about a gazillion times, and all I could think was "WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH DOES IT MATTER WHEN NO ONE EVER ACTUALLY DOES ANYTHING??!!!" But, aside from the bickering over what to call each other, they never seemed to feel the need for anything as complex as a storyline. 

Huh. I guess that's the beauty of being a kid. Being entertained by really, really boring stuff.

Fairies at Barclay's Center 

Bedroom Fairies 

Fairies drinking hot chocolate

Lessons learned on a March Break Adventure

1. 10 days is too long for E and I to be away from J. I found myself at times restless, at times worried, at times remorseful, and at times just plain bummed to be apart for so long. Especially in a place I know he loves as much as we do, having experiences he would love to be having, eating food he would much prefer over frozen pizza…and then leftover pizza. Having said that, the utter euphoria of the reunion of daddy and daughter was pretty awesome to watch.

2. Cramming three adults and three children into a minivan for a 7 hour drive is not nearly the gong show I had imagined. Yes, there was vomit. Yes, there was poop. A little crying, an extra bathroom break or two and the odd butt cramp and back spasm, but I imagined worse. Much worse. Special mention go to J.M. Barrie and Jim Dale for their ability to enrapture my daughter, as well as June "Superwoman" DeWagner for her awe inspiring display of multi-tasking and supreme patience.

3. I prefer to be in a position of having tag-alongs, rather than being a tag-along. I am simply unable to shake the persistent inner dialogue of "Am I doing enough?"…"I should be doing more"…"Am I irritating these people?"…"Do they wish I had backed out at the last minute so that they wouldn't have to contend with my daughter's short legs and propensity for whining or my unending reminiscence and rather demanding appetite?"

4. I love Brooklyn. Yes, I already knew that, as did you. But once again, upon setting foot on Court Street I was whalloped with the sense of homecoming and belonging that tugs mercilessly at me each time I return. I want to go to there. Forever.

Carroll Park

5. I still possess the ability to sleep anywhere. Even on an undulating pull-out mattress that rains crumbs and dust when being unfolded. Even on a subway while holding a 40lb child, a backpack and a bag of groceries. It turns out that what I lack, most times, is simply the opportunity. E, on the other hand, will always find an opportunity.

Central Park 

FAO Schwarz 

Prospect Park

6. E can walk much farther than I thought she could. As long as she gets her "naps" in.

7. You have to let people do what they want and need to do, regardless of how that jives with your wants and needs. The key to doing that successfully is communication.

Needy? Who, me?!

8. Being the wife and mom I want to be lies not so much in a complete overhaul of my personality, but in perfecting the art of self-restraint.

9. When E was a very small, I would sometimes start out the day saying something like "Are we going to have a TERRIFIC day today?", which would invariably result in a spectacularly terrible day. I stopped saying it out of superstition. While on vacation I tried it out again for the first time in years. The superstition holds true.

10. No one is perfect, and that's a good thing.

11. We worked on our math skills quite a bit on this trip. And sometimes, 1 well behaved child + 1 well behaved child = 2 crappily behaved kids. Logical it may not be, but that's some truth right there.

Sometimes we need to pinky swear to 

abide by our Friendship Contract. 

And sometimes, 

straight up candy bribery is required.

12. It's possible that we  eat too much.

Pete Zaaz 

Gueros 

Sweet Melissa 

Frozen Peaks

13. E really likes to accessorize.

Elle-ton John