Happy Mother's Day

6:45 a.m.  I'm laying in bed feeling a little bit sorry for myself.  The three years I've been eligible to celebrate Mother's Day have all been somewhat of a disappointment.  Chris's church responsibilities have precluded the sleeping in, "breakfast in bed" pampering I've been secretly hoping for.  Instead, Mother's Day is a repeat of every other week -- Chris heads out to church meetings at 6:45 a.m., inadvertently waking Clara as he shuts the door and pulls out of the driveway.  Then, I struggle through "single-parent Sunday" and all of the frustrations attendant to bringing children to church in a singles ward with no other children ( i.e. no nursery, or primary).

However, today as Clara begin to stir, instead of rushing into my room and demanding breakfast in the manner I cannot ignore (Mama!  I so hungry!!), I heard her playing in her room with her bin of stuffed "guys".

"Elmo, stop it!  That no good!" she ordered in a firm, no nonsense voice.

Ok, perhaps that was the Mother's Day wake up call I needed to erase my self pity.  Instead of laying in bed feeling bad that no one is around to congratulate me on what a great mother I am, I found myself thinking what it says about my mothering that the behavior my child chooses to mimic first thing in the morning is my stern chastising voice? For a moment I felt bad and resolved to try harder to temper my tone of voice and get down on Clara's level to rebuke her with loving kindness.  Then, as I drifted back to sleep for 5 extra glorious minutes I decided there was a high likelihood that Elmo was truly being naughty (perhaps intentionally dumping the milk from his cereal bowl on the floor or running into traffic).  In which case, he clearly deserved it.

Mothering crisis averted.  Now, who wants to watch Dora the Explorer on repeat while I take a bubble bath?

Trip to the Old Country.

In keeping with our recent policy of staying about a month behind the present, here are a few pictures from our annual trip to southern Pennsylvania to acquaint Clara with her pretzely heritage.  We recently discovered (in fact, we were the last members of the human race to do so) that round-trip flights from Boston to Baltimore are practically being given away in Cracker Jack boxes, so we strapped on our wings and travelled down there with the birds.  When we arrived, we checked out the aquarium in Baltimore.  It sure had a lot of fish.  While we were in the area, we engaged in the following:

Wished Clara hadn't snapped her sunglasses in two

Followed the frenetic pace of the three-toed sloth

Threw some tantrums

Marveled at the levitating dolphin

Decorated her face and her shirt

Sampled the local cuisine

Expressed opinions about said cuisine

Stared pensively off into the distance

Got all photogenic at the camera

Had a beach day many miles from the shore

Sampled more local cuisine

Piddled about

Traveled over the hills and through the woods to (great)-grandpa's house

Gave the birdbath attendants a good scrubbing

Memorial Day.

One patriotic day necessitates a blog post about another, don't you think?  This post has been aging in the outbox for some time, so I figured it was ripe enough to put up.

On Memorial Day, we went up to Good Harbor beach on the north shore with our good friends Seth and Sharon and shared the beach with crowds of tanning teenagers.  Suffice it to say that our ghost-like complexions prevented us from soaking up the UV as much as them, but we enjoyed ourselves all the same.

This picture potentially represents the first time that Clara posed for a shot.  Once she figured it out, though, she got on a roll that continued at the burger joint we stopped at on the way home (as you can see).

Clara's becoming a real bon vivant...

So photogenic.

I'm beginning to recollect the phrase "do you live in a barn?!!!" from my youth quite vividly...

Summer, briefly.

Here are a couple of recent pictures. I would go into more detail, but you get the idea.

Before you see it on Entertainment Tonight, here is an exclusive picture of the new hero in Terminator 5.  It turns out that the baby doll is her secret weapon, but I won't describe the projectiles that it launches...

Chip off of the Block.

As you may or may not be aware, we are in the midst of a not insubstantial yard renovation, in the course of which a 2 car garage will be added to its decorative features. Fortunately, we discovered a massive hole that was lurking, unbeknownst to us, exactly in the location where the foundation was to be located - all that was needed was to remove the dirt from it.

Suffice it to say that Clara was up to the task.

Living out Daddy's dreams.

Graduating from Elmo, at last.

As Bob Vila would tell you, nothing goes together like a binky and an excavator.

Clara has also been very concerned with her baby doll's health and well-being, so she's been honing her hat-putting-on skills, or, short of perfection in this department, her ask-mom-and-dad-for-help skills.

Le garage.

Easter hunting.

Things have gotten kind of crazy around here, what with the season of weed pulling and lawn mowing and puddle stomping having suddenly come upon us with the speed of a tulip getting munched by a famished rabbit. I couldn't let this post cruise on by, though, so put on your bunny ears and think back to those slightly darker, slightly wetter days of this past April...

Clara had no problem getting into the bunny mood.

And even less of a problem getting into the candy.

"Seriously, Mom?  You can do better than this."

Little burst of color on a dreary hill.

The hills are alive with the sound of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Post-candy chillin' with her comrades on the couch.

Aaaaaand, back to the fashion show...

Further accessorizing.

.

This is even harder than patting your head and rubbing your belly.

kicking the style up a notch.

We recently decided that it was time that we teach Clara about one of the many important life lessons that can be learned from ZZ Top's oeuvre, namely, the value of cheap sunglasses. I think you'll agree that she was a quick learner.

Dig my cool new shades, man!

I bring you greetings from another planet.

Whoa.

First you have to open these parts, and then...

FAIL.

Perhaps I should read the instructions again.

At least we have potty training under control.

attack of the couch cushions

Clara has also been working on her theatrical skills.  A few nights ago she decided to unveil her most recent creation: a dramatic interpretation of the following poem.

Boa Constrictor, by Shel Silverstein

Oh, I'm being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don't like it--one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It's nibblin' my toe.
Oh, gee,
It's up to my knee.
Oh my,
It's up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It's up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It's up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff...

Hello Elmo!

I confess, I though I'd be a tougher parent than I turned out to be. Many of my hard-line parenting philosophies have flown out the window in the past two years. For instance, my commitment to "no television before age 2" died a spectacular death about 4 months ago. And, let's be honest, who can say no to Elmo when he elicits this kind of reaction:

Happy Christmas.

(A terrible accident with the "save as draft" button happened today, resulting in the reposting of this entry. Good thing it's a classic.)

New vocabulary: "Santa" and "Snowman". These two words are interchangeable and can be used to describe everything on the Christmas tree.

New toys show up out of the blue. Can't complain about this phenomenon.





Uninterrupted time with Grandmas. Serious spoiling and mutual adoration.

Time dedicated to charming Grandpas. I'll win them over yet!

Shopping the after Christmas sales. When you're this cute, they'll let you wear it out of the store.