young love

Lizzy announced last week that she has a boyfriend. His name is David, and he is in her class.
Apparently, this relationship is SERIOUS, and requited, not like the crush she has had since the start of school on Connor, the boy who lives down the street (but we're not sure where, just that he gets on the bus at the other bus stop) and whom she would spy in the school hallway or the cafeteria from time to time.

David, apparently, acknowledges that Lizzy is his girlfriend, and yesterday wrote her little notes on scraps of paper. Two of them said "I (heart) you I (heart) you I (heart) you," and one said, "Your the best."

It's not so much this early declaration of love that has me a little puzzled and a mite tad concerned. It's that Lizzy seems to be taking it so seriously.

I overheard her mentioning this boyfriend to our relatively longtime neighbor friend Ethan yesterday when he stopped by our house for awhile. I think he must've seen the scraps of paper, and Lizzy endeavored to explain the situation to him.
"Oh -- those are from my friend, David. He's my boyfriend, at school," she said. And then: "Sorry to talk about him to you." The social realization that this might (I suppose?) hurt Ethan's feelings ... wow. (for the record, Ethan didn't seem to care one way or the other. It's quite possible he has his own social dealings at his own school.)

She has explained to me a few other times that David PROMISED -- as many as three times, one day -- that he would play with her on the playground at recess. Unfortunately, sometimes he goes off and plays some soccer game or other in the grass with his guy friends. One day, Lizzy had to tell me the elaborate tale of the unkept three promises, and the resulting fight they got into, and the sadness on behalf of both during music class, and their happy reunion afterward. (Lizzy: "Do you forgive me, David?" David: "Yes." Hug.) She doesn't know where he lives, but he apparently takes Bus 3. Meaning his parents must be from a richer side of the tracks than we are! I hope they don't mind, once they find out. (yes, that was a joke.)

David is now in her reading group, and this delights Lizzy no end. She has repeatedly bemoaned the fact that he does not sit at her table, the "red" table. No -- he is at the "blue table." How can she BEAR it?!

I asked if anyone else in the class is boyfriend/girlfriend. Nope, says Lizzy. She and David are the only ones. I asked if anyone else knows about them. Yes! She says. Everyone knows.

I asked one day, just for fun, if Lizzy gets mad if he talks to other girls. "Of course not!" she said, indignantly. "Why should I? He can have other friends that are girls."

I plan to ask her teacher about all this when I have a parent/teacher conference with him in a couple of weeks. I'm curious to get his take on it all.

Lizzy was in agony the other night because I explained to her, in the midst of one of these conversations in which Connor also came up, that she really couldn't have more than one boyfriend, and she definitely could NOT marry more than one boy(/man). She just wasn't sure she'd ever be able to choose! It seems there are some residual feelings for Connor that she simply can't ignore.

I wonder if David knows.

update

Hi -- obviously, yes, we made it back from our trip. I was going to write much more about it, but now I don't know quite what to say.

We had a good time with family, and I got to see Mom and Dad's lovely and awesome new house out in the outskirts of Chehalis, Wa.
I actually ended up speaking at Grandma's memorial service, which seemed to go fine. A number of people shared a number of touching stories about her, including the amusing tale of how she and I practically broke our necks during a really fast carriage ride (we weren't driving!) through the Siq at Petra, Jordan. I honestly don't know how I held on, let alone my then-82-year-old grandma. She was a tough old bird, to be sure. And a very kind lady. And a wonderful grandma. Someday, I'll miss her dreadfully.
(the photo at right is my mom, my grandma and me at the Dead Sea in Jan. 2001.)

CORRECTION -- that is not the Dead Sea. I cannot recall right now what it actually is -- the Mediterranean? Something like that -- but the Dea Sea does not have waves. Unless it's really really windy, I suppose. Sorry about misleading y'all. It is from that same trip, though.

I enjoyed reminiscing about her, but it kept niggling at my brain that it was such the type of gathering she would have enjoyed, she must be there somewhere. As I said when I spoke, it's still inconceivable to me that she's not on this earth any more. My mind can't quite grasp the reality of that. I was hoping that the funeral and memorial service -- and, hey, staying at her apartment while we visited, and even divvying up some of her possessions with my cousins and family -- would help. But it didn't seem to.

The actual trip there and back was a bit hairy, considering it was the two kiddos and me, but we made it. We forgot Lizzy's car seat, but it's just as well -- these days, your first checked bag costs $15 (on the airline we flew, but most of them charge something), so it was actually a hair cheaper to buy a $25 one when we got there (we'd have had to check it in both directions). Maddie was just about perfect on the whole trip, despite a couple of colossally poopy diapers before we got on planes; typical. Lizzy was not so great at times -- I had planned to rent a DVD player at the airport, but we didn't have time, so the first three-hour flight was quite a nightmare. I fail to see why my newborn should be so much less trouble than my almost-6-year-old; more on that later. I had splurged on a direct flight on the way back, and never regretted it. It also got us back in time to get home and breathe in and out a couple of times before we had to hop in bed for the night. And I've gotta hand it to United -- they've messed me over but good a couple of times in the past, but on this trip, everything went like clockwork. All flights on time; our last-minute seats were grouped together; everyone was very polite and helpful. Thank you for your prayers. They were answered, abundantly.



Overall, I've been quite a bit more tired since coming back to work -- the trip was no help, most likely -- and I find myself inadvertently falling mostly asleep on the metro on the way home. It's been a push -- an unsuccessful push, thus far -- to squeeze in an 8-hour work day and commute in and out in time to get the kids. Let's hope I figure this out before I get in lots of trouble here at work.

So, yeah, Lizzy's been full of 'tude lately. It's probably got a lot to do with being a big sister, and even more to do with the fact that I'm so much less patient and accommodating with her than I used to be. And a bit more to do with her having started first grade, and coming into contact with lots of new little 'tudes and their too-cool little ways. I have to confess, though -- there are times I want her to GO AWAY, and I'm not too bothered about for how long. In some ways, I wish there were a little island I could escape to with baby Maddie where I'm alone with her to soak her up, uninterrupted. I suspect that island was called "maternity leave," and it has since been destroyed. Ugh.


Don't tell Lizzy, but I just ordered her the dollhouse she's been longing for. That's pretty much going to be her Christmas. It'll be fun to see her freak out when she sees it.

I've probably got more to say, but it escapes me now. Also, it's time to shove off for home again.

it's that time once again

I've officially decided what my most-loathed annual task is: Composing a self-evaluation for my boss to slap onto my annual review.
What is the point of this, anyway? What I think of my own progress/performance should have little to do with how I’m evaluated. Tell ME what YOU think. It’s almost lazy on an employer’s part. (it's not something my boss himself requires, I should say; everyone in the office has to do it.)
And it’s ingrained in me not to brag about myself. Not that there’s a lot to brag about this time around: Let’s see. I got pregnant about this time last year, and then I was out for almost three months of maternity leave, from which I returned only to take two days off for a funeral a week later. Yes! Star employee! But I think women are subtlely trained not to build themselves up much. If anything, we’re taught to knock ourselves down to make each other feel better. “No – you’re not fat! It’s ME! I’m the one who can’t fit into any of my clothes.” Taking a compliment is an incredibly awkward exercise. All in the name of empathy and sisterhood.
In any case, I am feeling ill-equipped to brag about myself, especially this year. I feel so foolish sending my boss an e-mail full of my supposed accomplishments. What must he think? I suppose he understands that he’s the one who asked me to do so. And he doesn’t seem to disagree. He gives me good reviews, so perhaps I should stop flagellating myself.
Still. I hate this. When “I survived the past year! Yay me!” is the best I can do … and yet, given our stupid new computer system, it is something.

On a related note: I have worked for this company for 12 years now -- 1 1/2 in Germany, and nearly 10 years here in D.C. Amazing.

weekend

Lizzy, Maddie and I are hopping a plane in a few minutes to go to my grandmother's funeral in Washington state. Wish me luck on this outward-bound journey -- I change planes in Denver. That could be a zoo. I splurged on a direct flight on the way back.
See you all later.

first day back

Well, we all survived it. I can say that much.
When Matt and I dropped Lizzy and Maddie off at day care -- Lizzy for before/after care, and Maddie for her first full day away from Mommy -- Lizzy shed a few quiet tears, and Maddie practically waved us off with a cheerful smile. She appeared to have had a pretty good day -- lots of quiet observation of the other babies, a bunch of little catnaps, and a few bottles of Mommy milk, taken without complaint from a bottle. Not such a bad day, I suppose. No glass-shattering screaming until about 5:30, when the good ladies who work there decided maybe she could use another bottle, feeding schedule or no ... which is perfectly fine with me.
Lizzy seems to have taken to her new friends by day's end, as well.
Maybe I was the one with the greatest sense of shock. Which is strange, because I wasn't away for THAT long! But I could hardly sleep the night before. I felt quiet despair, yet resignation, at returning to the old routine (the job, I mostly love; it's the commute and the prospect of leaving my baby that I despise). And, I guess it was okay. But we're dismayed by the sheer quantities of time it takes to get in and out of the city from here. It's just almost undoable. We might have to rejigger our schedules a bit, somehow.
But I keep coming back to this: We made certain decisions, and we stand by them. We have to consider the entirety of our lives, or at least the next 20-ish years, not just the here and now. Our girls are in a TERRIFIC school system. We live in a beautiful, family-friendly neighborhood, with kind and friendly neighbors. We have a roomy enough house that's been fun to improve in ways large and small. Yes, we could perhaps be in a two-bedroom apartment in Arlington, with a much shorter commute. But we'd go nuts in a different way in that scenario. And we can't suddenly double either of our salaries, or work from home, or get a job out near the house.
So, this is what we have -- for now. And we're making the most of it. But even knowing that doesn't make it easy to wave goodbye to those dear smiling little faces five mornings a week and forge out into the soul-destroying slog that is the D.C. commute. Ugh ugh UGH. Thank God for weekends.
Did I mention, I really enjoyed my maternity leave?!?

this week

I've been thinking a lot about my 90-year-old grandma, and about family, this week.

I suppose that's because Dad called me late Friday night, telling me that Grandma had had a massive stroke and wasn't expected to live through the night.

One might say, by misguided way of comfort, that she's lived 90 great years, and has had a good life. And one would be right. But what I have failed to realize until now, when I've had similar thoughts directed toward other people whose grandparents have died, is that it doesn't so much matter what the quality of the person's life is. The more important fact is, I'm going to miss her.

I have a lot more eulogizing to do, but fortunately, it'll have to wait for a later post. Turns out, Grandma's more of a fighter than the ever-pessimistic doc gave her credit for. She'll never be the same, but she's still with us -- paralyzed on one side, but holding her own without life support machines. The doc's still pessimistic, but I haven't had a 'bad news' call from my parents yet, so there must be hope, or at least stability in her condition.

Needless to say, it's frustrating to be this far away from her. (she's in Washington state, with the rest of my family.) I used to enjoy hanging out with my grandma now and then, when I lived near Seattle. She's a gracious, loving woman, and a tenacious game-player. The same could be said for most of the members of my family. It's not a family gathering without at least one hotly contested game of cards going on somewhere in the house. That's one reason why it never feels like a holiday when I'm not with my family, and always does when I'm with them, no matter what the calendar might say.

I thought at first that I might be spending this last week of maternity leave in Washington state, for Grandma's funeral. I'm certainly glad that had turned out not to be the case. Instead, though, I have two tumultuous transitional periods of life to sit in this week. Whoopee! It's not like I've been reacting openly, but today when I was driving home from the doctor (nothing serious; a consultation about birth control methods, if you must know), a turtle was crossing the road in front of me, and I was going about 45 miles an hour and swerved to avoid hitting it. So help me, if I had squashed that turtle, I would've been a sobbing wreck for most of the rest of the day. (for the record, I love turtles. They're one of my favorite animals. But still.)

Yesterday was Matt's and my second anniversary. Thus far in our union, we've been doing things in as low-key a manner as we feel we can get away with. Recent penny-pinching (two kids in some form of day care! Parts of two mortgages to chip in for! Higher gas prices! You know the tune for yourselves, no doubt) has led us to go to almost no extremes in our observation of things like birthdays and anniversaries. But that's okay, we've decided. It feels better to be wise these days than to feel obligated to make purchases we really don't need.

Things aren't what make the day, and our marriage, special, after all. It seems that, particularly for an anniversary, I'm just not in the mental groove yet, anyway. We got married. That was fun. We have a marriage, and that is special in and of itself. The day it happened seems not to have much relevance to me at this point, other than that it's my favorite time of year. Largely why we chose to get married when we did -- we both feel the same about autumn. Especially here in the D.C. area, where one can once again step outside one's house without being fried (in the sun) or eaten alive by bugs (in the shade). Where one can again hope for an electric bill that won't be too much of a shock (hee!). When one can watch the leaves change color, and contemplate the passing of seasons, and of life, and the fact that one cannot hold too tightly to any stage, even if one wished to.

baby bigger

I've begun to accept the fact that Madeline is definitely getting bigger.

I was in denial for awhile. I'd ask people who hadn't seen her in a week or two, or even a month, if she seemed to have grown. Inevitably, they would say she had ... sob!
It's not like I want her to have some sort of developmental problem. I just want to keep this baby, well, a baby! I'm having a lot of fun with her. It's new baby territory for me.
Her little noggin especially seems to be growing and firming up. Those soft spots have all disappeared, except for one.

As I've told a couple of people: I want her to stay the same squishy little newborn she was at first until the very moment I hand her over to strangers at the day care a week from Monday morning.
From that time on, I want to think of her as grown up and practically self-sustaining. So my guilt won't be quite so profound.

in two weeks

... I return to the workday routine. Alas!
It's been a great maternity leave. I was honestly not quite sure if I'd live through another maternity leave. The last one was unbelievably challenging. The sleep deprivation! The colic! The sub-freezing weather and tiny apartment! Not to mention the dramatic adjustments that a baby naturally necessitates. But this time ... it's been a lot different.

A lot of things are the same, but my life is already structured around being focused on kids. It's not like I'm sacrificing that much to 'start over.' And hoo boy, have a lot of things -- all the right things -- been different!


Matt and I joke that Madeline is a made-to-order baby, right down to her greater resemblance to -- and preference for -- her father. Well, perhaps preference is too strong, but she really seems to get a charge out of him. Her face lights up into the most delighted of smiles when he holds her. They really have a connection. He was the first one to figure out that we could 'talk' to her -- she's always been a cooer, and if we coo to her, she smiles big and often coos back. If her tummy is full and she's in a good mood, that is.
But I digress. She's a sleeper -- just like we wanted! She's a great latcher-on and eater, and doesn't spit up much -- just as I hoped for! She's quite healthy, which is of course wonderful. And we thought it would be fun to have a dark-haired flavor this time. Matt's mom keeps declaring that she looks like 'Matt in a dress.' I'm falling short of inflicting that description on her, but there certainly is a strong resemblance! And people are starting to say she looks a lot like Lizzy, too. It's those Maisel eyes.
Anyway ... it's been such a treat, getting to know her. It's going to be so hard to hand her over to someone else for 11 hours a day. ELEVEN HOURS. I don't think we ever left Lizzy for more than nine. Just the way the commute works out -- Maddie's day care will be close to our house, whereas Lizzy's was closer to our jobs -- but it just seems wrong. It's just tough to leave them, period. Don't get me wrong -- I have the highest respect for stay-at-home moms, but I'd quickly go insane if I was one -- but it's just tough nonetheless. You have to do what you have to do, I keep telling myself.
Two more weeks. Just two more weeks ...

Bonus photo -- we allowed Lizzy to decide when we went to the local, but very well-known and well-attended, farm's fall festival. Her school bus passes it twice a day, so she had its 'grand opening' date reinforced often, and thus she wanted to go this weekend. So we did, despite having only two hours on Sunday afternoon to do so. It's been an annual tradition of Matt's and mine since Lizzy was 11 months old -- long before we lived so close to it.

I ran around getting as many photos of the fam as I could with the dying camera battery I'd brought, and only realized at the end of the day that the lens had a huge smudge on it. Whoops.

If you pretend I'm the goat, it's a family photo!

gratitude

Things I'm particularly grateful for today:

* Running water in our home. Running through the pipes, that is. Particularly our now-functional toilets, and the ability to easily wash my hands in the sink. (imagine doing all those diaper changes, and you can see why hand-washing is a desirable thing for me just now.)

* A husband who is willing -- nay, eager! -- to take a day off work and attempt to install a water heater himself, thus possibly saving us about seven hundred dollars.

* An appliance repair guy who will do house calls that start as late as 8:45 p.m. and run until 11:45 p.m. Even if he was a jerk.

(Matt and his brother did a great job installing the water heater, but the soldering part was just a bit beyond them. No shame in that, methinks. Also, we needed an expert eye on the a/c unit, so it was just as well that the repair guy hit two things at once. It still saved us a few hundred bucks over a repairperson doing the job from the beginning.)

* A husband who really loves me, and who is worthy of loving in return. Even when we might not like each other for a few days now and then.

* Last, but foremost, two precious, darling little girls -- and their bedtimes.

weekend of water

Yep, we just can't get enough water 'round here.
But first -- what the kidlets were up to. Somewhat water-themed, as well. Sort of.
Lizzy had her first soccer encounter/practice/game on Saturday at 1 p.m. The under-6 crowd has a half hour of drills, then they do a very light scrimmage for a half hour against another team. They'd never met before, and in fact, the coach had an unavoidable conflict and was unable to make it to the event himself. It's low key, is what I'm saying.

Lizzy's team is purple, and was asked to vote on a team name. Front-runners were "purple grapes," "purple dragons," "purple girls" and "purple princesses." Matt and I liked purple dragons, but we weren't allowed to vote. The winner: The purple princesses! Or, princesses for short. You can only imagine how weird it is to cheer on the princesses on a soccer field. As apropos as it might, in fact, be. Just more to tease her about when she's a teen.
She sure looks darn cute in her uniform, though! She and her soccer-loving dad posed for me, as you see.
So, after we'd trudged about 10 minutes up a gravelly path from the parking lot (we had the far field, naturally) in the late-summer heat, Matt and I turn to each other and say, "Hm. Did you bring anything for Lizzy to drink?" Cue the water break ... and we had to tell her that we had nothing for her. We are the world's worst parents! So I tore out to the nearest gas station for drinks. I cannot believe we forgot drinks. My line is, hey -- I can keep track of the needs of one person at a time. That person used to be me. Then it was Lizzy. Now it's Maddie ... yikes.
With about five minutes to go, Lizzy decided she had to use the bathroom. Which was an outhouse near the parking lot. So, we just left. No point in walking there, then walking back. Apparently, she told her dad at that point that she wanted to quit soccer. She didn't like it. She'd changed her mind within about 10 minutes, though. We figured she'd find the actual physical exertion portion of the sport (is there any other?) fairly challenging. She doesn't exactly like to move much. Quite like her mother (at that age), in fact. She told us that she overheard someone saying, "Hey, Lizzy's good!" She was pretty stoked about that.
Matt had her out in the backyard doing games and drill-related activities for at least an hour on Sunday afternoon. She'll be our little star princess yet!

Today, our church had a baptism/dedication service for Maddie and C.J., our almost equally young neighbor. Man -- did we ever get a photo of the two of them together? I don't think we did. Bummer. But the lovely and talented Ms. Stacy got lots of photos of them separately -- I hope to post one or two of Maddie here soon. We borrowed a lovely dress from the Stavs for the occasion. Maddie managed to cry and scream her way through at least half of it (the occasion, not the gown). That was unfortunate. Other than that, though, it was a blessed time. Thanks, church community, for all your support. Easy to say, but it comes from the heart. We love all of you, and we're so, so grateful for you all.
Lizzy also dressed up today, and sang a little song during the service about family as her contribution. Here they are, in their regalia:


What appears to be a huge smile on Maddie's face was exactly that. She's been quite smiley lately! Not for insignificant events such as, say, her baptism, but, you know, when only one or two people are looking. Argh. (and no, it's NOT just gas pains! It's not it's not it's not.)

They say troubles come in threes. We had our second and third basement flooding events this evening. The a/c unit has been leaking for the past, oh, week or two or so. Matt's shoved a bucket under a pipe that's dripping, and emptying the bucket every few days. Except that we emptied it Friday or Saturday, and it was full -- and leaking -- again today. Whoops. So, we called for professional help.
While Matt was down looking at it, the water heater burst and sprayed its contents all over the closet. So we bailed water for an hour or so until the thing ran out. Then we called yet more professionals.
Then Matt decided he and his brother could replace the water heater himself -- and, why not? Fix the a/c unit too. That fun will commence tomorrow. I'm a bit skeptical, but what do I know? I guess if you have to call a plumber, might as well have a go yourself first. Should be entertaining, anyway. Maybe I'll do a pictorial of the proceedings.
I just don't know what's with all the pipes and things going wonky down there recently. And they all waited for the father in law to leave. Lucky him!
In other house-related news, we're having the chimney sweeps over tomorrow to clean and inspect. And we're getting roofer guys to fix the roof where the fool squirrels are getting in. Quite a sizable hole up there, we're told. Four hundred dollars' worth of repairs should do the trick!
Cue my usual rant about home ownership.