Payback

It was to be an evening at Monkey Business, the giant indoor playground where kids run wild, seemingly unsupervised and left to their own devices. Kids will be kids and playground etiquette should be learned, yes; but Trev and I never leave Iris on her own in such situations. I'm a mom unafraid to tell off any little bully rough-housing my baby.

But, apparently, I don't need to hover. 

Because while she was cooking dinner in a playhouse, she leaned out the window to take her Daddy's order, and a little whippersnapper (you know what word I really wanted to use there) ran by and purposefully slammed the window shutters on her pretty little fingers. He yelled something mean at her and ran away. The look on her face--one of confusion and maybe a little pain, but mostly just shock and disappointment--nearly broke her father's heart. And he ran to her side, eyes following that boy to make sure he was properly reprimanded by some parent, somewhere.

Iris shook it off and went back to minding her own business. And then the boy came back. He stood in the doorway, eyeing Iris, clearly checking to ensure his bullying had put her in her place. 

He was sorely disappointed.

Determination in her eyes, Iris marched over to the boy, grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him into the house, placed his fingers in the oven door, and slammed it shut. Then she stared him down, straight in the eye, steadied for retaliation. It was an eye-for-an-eye (yes, finger-for-finger) sort of justice.

Trevor hesitated just a moment before stepping in, teaching Iris that she shouldn't do that to other kids. But he did it with a smirk on his face and perhaps a hint of pride in his voice. 

Turns out, little Bean can take care of herself. 

Dabbler #2!

Hey, Denver!

Thanks so much for your amazing support and feedback as I've begun teaching with Dabble. My writing class a few weeks back was such fun! And some of my students offered up such encouragement, that I've decided to take up Dabble on their original offer: Next up, I'm teaching a blogging class.

If you're in Denver and have always wanted to start a blog, this class is for you. I probably can't tell you everything you need to know; but I've been blogging for years and can answer questions about the basics and what I've learned about the culture of blogging. Please! If you have specific questions, let me know below. I covet your ideas, thoughts, advice.

Also! I'm behind on links, sluggish from vacation I suppose. Read on:

Using babies like accessories on PopSugar. 

How we eat when traveling for NRC. 

Road Trip, Part 3

My children never stop. They go and go, wide-eyed and basically happy until I make the official "mom declaration" that it's time for a rest. So some big city activity was right up their alley; and it only took a day for Edi to master the art of a real on-the-go stroller nap, even without the use of my "stroller Cadillac," as Trevor calls it.

When we were in college and Trev and I would venture to Chicago for some excitement (because, believe it or not, sometimes Anderson, Indiana can feel as though it lacks something), I sort of wanted to just transform into a Chicagoan. I didn't want to stand out trying to hail a cab or walk the side streets or navigate the train. For awhile, we thought we might live there after school, and I just wanted to fit it. 

I think this trip we were obviously tourists, and that was totally fine with me. When you have little kids, everything is a big deal and everything is exciting: from getting to ride in a cab without a car seat to visiting some of the city's hot spots. 

Our first day in town, we wandered around in search of breakfast, pleasantly surprised to find the cafe we Yelped tucked away in a quiet residential corner with a perfect park and playground just across the street. We cabbed it to Shedd Aquarium afterward, which swept all of us off our feet. Clearly, Iris was enamored with all the sea life--we could barely tear her away from the first room on to the next! And I, in my mommy nerdness, could not get over the clean and convenient designated nursing rooms and roomy lockers for only 75 cents! Mom's day out heaven, I tell you.

The next day, we made our way to Navy Pier. It was an easy walk from the condo, and since we were on baby schedule (read: UP EARLY), we beat the crowds. We had the carousel (or the "up and down," as Iris calls it) all to ourselves and we walked all the way to the very end, stepping to the beat of the obnoxious 00's soundtrack, to take in the view. Chicago dogs for lunch, duh, and then--we may have pushed it a bit to far into nap time--it was time for the ferris wheel. 

The couple days we had to ourselves, making our own adventures, was the perfect mini-vacation; and it's always fun for me to imagine how we'd function as a family if we lived in a different city. My friend's mom once joked to me that, once you have kids, it's not really a "vacation," just a change of scenery. I suppose in some ways that's true; but our girls were real troopers and seemed to enjoy the change of pace and excitement themselves.  Chicago will always be one of my favorites, and I'm so glad it's a place we have been able to share with our girls now too.

Road Trip, Part 2

My reaction to the city is probably more often the exception than the rule, at least among most people I've met. But there's something about wandering through a tangled concrete maze, architecture sprouting up above my head and people, people, people on every side of me. It's not claustrophobic in the least; it's like this completely freed feeling of sinking into humanity, being on my way and independent, an obviously small piece to an incredible whole.

Being in the city feeds my soul.

My aunt has this beautiful condo just a few blocks from Navy Pier, with room to spread out and relax and the ridiculously luxurious Fox & Obel across the street for meals and treats. It's become a little tradition of ours to beg the use of her castle in the sky whenever we're back in the Midwest. Staying there is a perfect retreat where we're free to move at our own pace or to the rhythm of the city--whatever our hearts desire. 

And since we were in town with a toddler this go-around, we did some fun touristy things. I'm convinced Iris would make a great city kid should the opportunity ever present itself. But more on that later, because even if all we'd had to do was hit the sidewalks and watch people with a coffee in-hand and that Lake Michigan wind in our hair, that would have been fine with me.

Legacy

I suppose Mother's Day is kind of my jam now, a holiday to celebrate that which consumes my time, thought, and a rather large percentage of this blog space. And yesterday, we did all the Mother's Day-y things.

After early morning nursing, I snuggled back into bed for two (TWO!) extra hours of sleep and awoke to the smells of a breakfast you wouldn't believe: a replica of Snooze's breakfast pot pie topped with an over-easy egg and a side of chocolate chip and nut pancakes and warm chocolate sauce. WHAT? I live in a gourmet restaurant, I tell you. And the table was adorned with lovely little gifts and handmade cards and a steaming cup of coffee, just the way I like it.

Yesterday was my third Mother's Day.

This is actually a bit funny to me because, while we all know I'm for holidays (especially of the gift-getting variety), this holiday doesn't really feel like mine. It's a day I always made sure to get up early, not sleep in, and cook breakfast for my mom, not have it made for me. And I always wanted to find the perfect gift, but it never occurred to me that one day I'd be opening the perfect one.

I laughed at myself the other day, saying something to Trev and imitating one of my mom's quirks without even realizing it. 

"I'm starting to sound like my mom!" I giggled.

And then I thought, "What a wonderful thing."

Because when Iris sits on my lap and studies my hands and twists the rings on my fingers, I can think only of the lines in my mom's hands, the absolute softest hands in the world, and how she never took off her wedding bands.

And when Edi is fighting sleep, as she's prone to do, and I trace her eyebrows softly, I can practically feel my mom's finger running gently across my own forehead, reassuring me that peaceful sleep is necessary and good.

I think of how my mom would mind carefully the details of getting ready in the morning or how she never seemed in a rush to do the daily tasks but cared only of doing them well. I think about how these things, things to which she's likely never paid second mind, weigh heavily in my mind as meaningful and important, and that perhaps they might one day possess equal value for my girls. 

And Mother's Day does and forever will belong to my mom. I'm like her and trying to be like her and it is mine now too. One day it will be Iris's and it will be Edi's and we will have a lovely circle of Mother's Day life built underneath us all. It is legacy--hers and mine and theirs and ours. Which, I think, is the point anyway.