Greeting Isaac

I took the girls to the beach today to watch the storm move in. Don't worry, we left long before the real trouble started.

Stellan's First Day of Kindergarten

My little boy is all grown up. OK, he's now in kindergarten. Nothing makes me think of him more as a little boy than watching him get on the bus full of big kids (the other kids at our stop are all middleschoolers). He was very excited for his first day and didn't let minor distractions like the bus missing him get him down. Yep, the bus missed his stop, so we had to drop him off at the school. I didn't even take him in to his class, because by the time we realized the bus wasn't just 25 minutes late, it was just flat-out never coming, we had to go straight there without having prepped the girls with semi-important things like shoes, strollers or an umbrella (it was pouring rain). As he was preparing to jump out of the car in front of the school, he said, "Mom, I don't know where my classroom is." I replied, "You can ask any grown-up you see for help. You know your teacher's name, and your room number is 307." As he exited, he muttered to himself over and over, "307, 307, 307, 307, 307..." And with that, he was gone. My sweet boy was swallowed up into a dozen+ years of formal education.

The school called in the afternoon to ask how he was getting home and then put in him on the bus, as requested. I waited for the bus very anxiously (as my mom, who was on the phone with me, can testify). It was late, but arrived - with Stellan on it. However, Stellan didn't know he was supposed to get off there, and didn't say anything. I had anticipated this and was walking from the car to the stop to intercept him when the bus pulled away. I chased the bus down, trying not to slip and die while wearing flip flops in the rain, banging on the side of the bus while the kids all pointed and laughed, until the driver noticed and stopped. I extracted Stellan, casually mentioned to the driver than I missed seeing him earlier that morning and that I hoped he would be there the next day, and gave my Stellan a big big hug.

He was very proud of himself, but a little dazed, and it became clear that the whole day was a little overwhelming for him. He got lost trying to find his classroom, but got some help from a grown-up. He didn't remember that I had packed him a lunch and then when lunch time came, told his teacher he didn't know what to do. He ended up getting a hot lunch, for which I'm sure the school will be sending me a bill, and possibly a scolding, at some point. As mentioned, he didn't remember the conversation we had in the car about how he was getting home. And he probably thought the bus driver was abducting him when he saw me chasing it down after school. Luckily, the next day was better. And by the third day, I think he has the system down. In fact, I'd say he's doing better than I am at home with the girls, who are having a harder time creating a new schedule. With 3 naps between them while Stellan's gone, the girls and I are struggling a bit to get anything productive done, but we'll get it worked out. We just need to follow Stellan's example.

I Could Have Told You That

Stellan has had a love-hate relationship with swimming, and especially swim lessons. He can swim perfectly fine when he wants to, but has still struggled to do it on command. With our upcoming trip to the Great Barrier Reef, it was time to get this taken care of. (Plus, Kevin wanted to try out his new underwater camera and needed a big target.)

Fortunately, Stellan's dad is Kevin. Kev decided to teach Stellan how to snorkle, in hopes that he would eventually be ready to snorkel relatively independently by November. Stellan exceeded all expectations. Once he had that mask on, he didn't want to take it off. Ever. Now he swims like he was born in the water and never left it. I guess it wasn't that he couldn't swim - it was just too boring to only be swimming. Now that swimming is a means to an end, problem solved. I suppose I should have known that any kid of Kevin's could be an expert snorkeler by age 5.

Since snorkeling is now on his top 5 things to do, we've gone several times. We've taken friends, we've gone to lakes as well as the ocean, we're all over this snorkeling thing. Rachelle is very happy to stick in the water with Stellan and keep him company. Annie is less excited, but will grow to like it, I hope.

Hello From Annie

Poor Annie. She has grown and changed so much in the last couple of months, and it has gone largely ignored on the blog. Here is a post all her own. I know there's only one photo, but she is so stinking cute in this photo that is truly worth way more than a thousand words. Happy 5 months, Anniecakes!

There's A Body In The Bushes

If you want the Reader's Digest Condensed version of this story, just skip ahead to the movie. But you'll really get more out of it if you give me the time to paint a picture for you before viewing the dramatic reenactment of how Kevin found a dead body.

I want you to picture a windy foothill road with a lot between two houses. The lot looks like the jungle took it over years ago. Huge shrubs, a tangle of ivy and vines and oak and who knows what else. Then you notice a small opening. You approach and discover a path through the bushes, which you follow. 10 yards or so down the path, you encounter the Tiki Hut. The 15-feet-tall bird of paradise plants hang over a rickety wooden porch. If you go up all 4 steps of the stairs onto the porch and into the house you'll see windows on 3 walls, and bamboo on the ceiling and the 4th wall. This place gives a certainty that building codes were not consulted or even considered in its design.

If you spent any time there, you might come to love its quiet charms. Plenty of wild life, views of bushes, flowering vines and plants on all sides, the wind through a canopy of tall oak trees. I still long for the sound of the rare rain storm as the drops pound the windows and the thin ceiling. You might observe that the sinks and shower drain directly out the side of the house onto the ground, helping maintain this jungle-like environment, and also contributing to the sinking foundation that makes you feel a little seasick as you traverse the uneven wooden floors.

The Tiki Hut is just one of four units on the property. The elderly land lady, Virginia, lives in the big house out back. The other house is split into three "apartments". Virginia will probably tell you about her poetry the first time you meet her. She writes cat poetry; not poetry about cats, but poetry written from the perspective of the cats. She will recite it to you in a singsong voice if you ask. And maybe even if you don't ask.

Living in the adjacent "apartment" are Dave and his infirm mother. Contrary to the reenactment video, Dave is neither a fuzzy woodland creature nor an Indian chief. Instead, I want you to picture what Jesus would have been if he'd fallen in with the stoners during high school and never left. This is Dave. He has huge wild bushy hair and a full beard. He has a slightly crazed look on his face all the time and is easily excitable. He and Virginia do not get along, but their individual crazies seem to have found a coexistent balance.

We lived in the Tiki Hut for 3 years and had many adventures, but this one takes the cake. This is a fairly accurate reenactment of that fateful night, as well as a follow-up phone call from Virginia the next day.


Body In The Bushes from Krissie Cook on Vimeo.

Half a Decade

Stellan is 5 years old. I am having a hard time processing this. I mean, when I think about where I was and what I was doing around the time he was born, that seems like a really long time ago. But he himself can't possibly have been here for that long!
In an effort to convince myself that it really has been 5 years, I made Stellan a little movie, tracking him through each and every one of those 5 years. I've posted it here in case you, devoted reader, might also be interested in watching 5 trips around the sun condensed into less than 2 minutes. It's a fast 100 seconds; in fact, it might fly by almost as fast as the last 5 years.


Happy 5th Birthday, Stellan! from Krissie Cook on Vimeo.

5,256,000 Minutes

Let's do the math:

           3 coasts
           7 homes
           4 cars
           3 kids
           3 college degrees
           5 jobs (that pay money)
         23 states visited
           4 computers
           8 cell phones
           1 well-intentioned but ill-fated hot dog diet (we did save money, though!)
           5 hand-me-down couches, futons and recliners
           1 backyard fire
           2 crazy people invading during floods
           1 dead body in the bushes
           6 supportive parents
         15 fantastic siblings
+       10.96 cutest nieces and nephews in the world
10 years of marriage to my best friend

Happy 4th of July!

Gift of Tongues

Living with a two-year-old is a unique time in life. Rachelle is an excellent communicator, letting us know what she needs and wants. To the untrained ear, her language seems like gibberish; to the fluent listener, however, her words are rich in meaning. Here is a sample of some of our recent exchanges:

Hungee
Literal translation: hungry
Situational translation: It's 5:05 AM on a Saturday morning and I think it's high time you were out of bed, Dad. Please get up and fetch me Breakfast #1 and then snuggle on the couch with me until Stellan gets up and usurps my spot on your lap.

Deekeen Mulk
Literal translation: Annie is nursing
Situational translation: I'm going to sit here in your lap and try to snuggle Annie out of your arms. When my cutest tricks aren't successful, I will disappear to the other side of the house. Soon you won't hear me at all. And you will worry. Rightly so, Mom.

Fwoggy
Literal translation: froggy potty (training toilet)
Situational translation: I am so excited to potty train, Mommy! I am pretty clear on the concept, but a little fuzzy on the chronology. I have already pooped in my diaper, and I stripped it off 3 rooms ago. It may or may not have dripped a bit on the carpet, you can probably follow a trail back to the diaper. I'm now going to sit on this potty and coat it in the worst kind of filthiness until you catch up with all the rest of the mess and finally clean me up. And fwoggy too. Just as soon as Baby Annie's done deekeen mulk.

Mon
Literal translation: come on
Situational translation: You are busy with something that doesn't involve me. Please stop it now; I am going to literally drag you away for something very specific that I urgently need. I'm not sure what it is, but I'll know it when I see it.

Butt Kee
Literal translation: butt cream (diaper rash ointment)
Situational translation: No, those aren't Mickey Mouse gloves. My hands are completely coated in butt cream. As are my legs, my arms and, inexplicably, my lips. Oh, and you may want to check for butt cream in big chunks on my bedroom carpet, a few doors, your dresser, and your bed. Maybe a few other spots, too. Basically everywhere but my butt.

Mine
Literal translation: mine
Situational translation: 1. Stellan just took something from me. 2. I just took something from Stellan. 3. I'm bored and neither of us is holding anything, but it sure is fun to fight about it.

Night Night
Literal translation: good night
Situational translation: Good night. Thanks for tucking me in, I'm actually going to stay here now. All night. On the first tuck in. Because I really am a very good girl almost all the time. I'll see you tomorrow when I'm hungee.

Tropical Storm, Schmopical Storm

Who's That Girl?

I want you to imagine a little wild child of a girl. Picture a bouncing head of wild blonde curls racing around on wobbly toddler legs; she looks around with excitement as she spots a new adventure or a bit of mischief and runs toward it, shooting you a grin over her shoulder. "Mahn, mahn!" She shouts. (This is the toddler version of "C'mon, c'mon!")

That is my Rachelle. She is two years old today. I like to say she's a precocious two-year-old, because she started acting 2 a couple months ahead of schedule. She's been previewing the giddy madness of the so-called terrible twos enough for me to know that the two of us are in for an adventure. She talks all the time, and now mostly with words, though not always intelligible. She mimics everything her brother does, and lights up when she sees her baby sister. She is very sweet and obedient, except when she's not. She will take full advantage of any opportunity for shenanigans presented to her. She has boundless energy and enthusiasm.
I love RaRa so much. I love how sweet and considerate she is, how eager to help she can be, how her soft chubby cheeks feel against mine, how she drags me into the living room for snuggles ("snuggos, Mommy!") and how she has become her own little person in these past 2 years.
Happy birthday, sweet girl!

Bonus addendum: In the past, Rachelle has borne a striking resemblance to her mother. But recently, she has started to take on the look of her aunt, Tia Steph. This is a double bonus for me, since Tia Steph is beautiful, and also because she is one of my favorite people on earth. I love that I get to see my dear sister reflected back at me every time I look at my daughter. Photos to follow in another post.

3 Months Old

My beautiful Annie is 3 months old today. I have loved every one of the 93 days we have had together. She is quite an individual even at this tender age. You won't see many photos of her smiling, mostly because she's not a smiler. She's not a cuddler. She's not a cooer. She likes to be held but not snuggled; she wants to know you are there but she needs her space. She does not enjoy having her brother and sister up in face all the time (which they are, and I don't dissuade them - Annie could do worse than to be overloved by her older siblings) and prefers quiet time to most other times. She does well travelling in the car and has a nearly perfect track record in the Baby Bjorn, which suits her temperament perfectly.

She has piercing eyes that let me know she is watching and learning and saving it all up for a later date when we'll have a long thoughtful conversation about everything. She is a kind baby who generally lets her mama get a solid 5-6 hours of sleep at night (not including visits from other wakeful children) and takes great naps. As is her birthright as 3rd oldest, she has been sick almost every day of her life, and seems to tolerate it with as much dignity as baby can.

She is an absolute love. She knows my voice and follows me with her eyes all day long, whether we're cooking and salsa dancing together or we're sitting on a park bench together enjoying the view as Stellan and Rachelle play. I don't know which one of us enjoys our companionable silence more, but it's safe to say that there's not much more any mother could ask for.

Enjoy a few photos of Annie taken today at exactly 3 months old!

Honest To A Fault

All three of my kids are at an awkward age - the "almost" age. Annie is days away from the 3-month milestone, Rachelle is days away from turning 2 and Stellan will be 5 in a few weeks. So when people ask how old they are,* I dutifully tell them how old they aren't quite (see above description).

Don't worry, I know how annoying I sound as soon as I say it. These people just want to confirm that Rachelle is acting like a 2-year-old because she is a 2-year-old, and that they have no idea how old Annie is but she seems cute, and that they hope that Stellan is "older enough" that I am not crazy and irresponsible for have too many kids too close together. They don't actually care when my kids' birthdays are. So why do I feel compelled to be so lengthy in my age descriptors?

I realized that I feel disingenuous lying about their ages. Why? I'm only making it harder on myself and them. They don't want a long explanation and I know that even as I give it. So from now on (and really, only for the next few weeks until next year), I'm gonna lie. Because that what we all want, anyway.


*Side note: we have become a freak show, apparently. People seem not to be used to seeing a mom with 3 kids under the age of 5 in public locations other than parks and beaches. A recent trip to Pensacola that involved a specialty store, a ill-fated lunch at Chick-Fil-A and long afternoon at the mall confirms that people will literally stop and stare at us as we make our way around. And if we stand still long enough, they will ask very personal questions about their ages, my sanity, etc. When did I turn into that person? I mean, each of my individual children is certainly capable of stare-worthy acts, and I'm no stranger myself to thinly veiled eyeballing (especially during my bald phases), but I never thought that the simple act of my motherhood to these 3 beauties would be enough to bring mall traffic to a halt.

Here's a photo I took on my phone as I was leaving; it's taken from my point of view behind the double stroller wheel so you can sympathize with me and not the starers; please note the top of Annie's head as she is strapped to my chest via Baby Bjorn. Do we seem freakish to you? Please don't answer.

Tales of Doom

Subtitled "If Only I Had Something To Report!"

You see, we should have had a super amazing past week and a half. Really, the calendar was full, the excitement level was high. But then...

Stellan finished preschool last week. Or did he? The afternoon before his last day, he started throwing up. So did virtually every other kid in 4 classes at his school. Apparently some sort of waterborne stomach bug affected everyone who participated in the big water slide on Wednesday's Water Day celebrations. So do I have photos of him and his teacher while he holds a certificate of completion? No. Do I have a video of him singing songs he spent weeks practicing? No. Instead, we spent 3 days cleaning vomit off way too many surfaces in our home.

The next week was also supposed to be amazing. I'm sure you can't have helped hearing about the transit of Venus, especially if you know me. I was all set to talk to thousands of Fort Walton Beachians as they oohed and aahed at the view through the telescope of Venus passing in front of the sun. That is not what happened. Here is what did happen: I spent the night inside the local science center showing about 50 people the transit of Venus via webcast from Hawai'i and doing some fun, but not as cool as a never-to-be-seen-again astronomical event, hands-on activities. So do I have photos of a Baby Bjorn-laden Momstronomer (it was Annie's first outreach) engaging excited throngs by a telescope? No.

I thought my luck had changed on my drive home, when I saw the sun peeking through the clouds as it was setting. There was even a rainbow to bring me hope and good luck. As I raced home, cursing the minivan in front of me for only going five miles above the speed limit, I knew I had to get my sun-filter adapted binoculars from the kitchen counter and then head for high ground in order to have any chance of seeing the transit. I hurried Stellan into the car (Rachelle was going to bed and Annie was already in the car, albeit out cold) and we raced away. I am sad to report we were not fast enough. By the time we got out of our forested neighborhood, the sun was too low to be seen even from the best spot I could think of. So do I have a photo I took of the transit which I saw with my very own eyes through an eyepiece? No.

But hope springs eternal. This week was also Girls Camp. And though I did not attend for the whole week (because I have a nursing baby, not for lack of desire), I had been invited up to teach the girls about astronomy on Wednesday night. Sadly, it was pouring rain on Wednesday. I called the director and we decided to hope things cleared up by Thursday. They didn't. Not on Friday, either. If you know me and my love of Girls Camp, you know how sad I was to have missed my free ticket to the funnest place in Northwest Florida. So do I have photos of 80 teen girls unplugged from their tech toys and enthused about the night sky? No.

At least my week was going to end well. Girls Night Out was all planned, an evening on the beach sipping mocktails and watching the sun set - sans kids. It's that last part that's the real kicker. But guess what? A huge storm hit on Friday night, and hasn't let up yet. Streets are flooded and power out in nearby Pensacola. I fear for our leaky roof and hope it doesn't collapse on any of my children in their sleep. Do I have photos of a relaxed and thirst-quenched mom taking a well earned break on the beach at sunset with 20 or so of her closest friends? No. We did have a Girls Night In at my house, which included tasty treats, Dr. Mario and Phase 10, so it wasn't a complete wash.

So if you were wondering why this post has no photos, and nothing exciting to report, now you know. Our summer vacation is doomed. I'm quitting now before it gets worse.


P.S. Did I mention I wanted to go to Pensacola on Monday? Oh wait, now I can't. See above for details on flooding and power outages.

Serendipity

I was walking down the greeting card aisle at the grocery store this evening all by myself. That's right, all kids at home, ostensibly sleeping. Then I look to my left and see Annie:

(In case you can't read it, the card says, "This too shall pass.")

About three cards over, I find Rachelle.

(The full text, including the inside of the card, reads: "Sometimes...you have to pick your battles.")

Even when I get away from my kids, I can't get away from my kids.