Rewind/Fast Forward

[Lee and I took the babies up to North Carolina for a long weekend this past weekend– another one of my crazy, do-everything-see-everyone kind of road trips, except this time we decided on one central location (Raleigh) and worked out our visits from there. When you have to drive 8+ hours to see anyone who knew you before age 23, every trip turns into sort of a circus. But a good circus. A necessary circus. 
Also, my camera battery died. And I lost the charger. So this is the part of the trip where I had resorted to my phone camera.]

See this? This is my baby on Franklin Street. Actually it’s my baby on her Daddy’s back on Franklin Street. Mary Bullock’s FPE [favorite person ever] Molly just started UNC Law on Monday, so we spent Saturday with her and Uncle Derbs walking around campus, showing MB the sights. See the dark cloud to the right? That’s Hurricane Irene. Thankfully, that’s as bad as it got in Chapel Hill.

I haven’t spent a lot of time in Chapel Hill since I graduated, mostly because I’ve lived so far away and am not a huge sports fan, so I don’t go home for many games. It was strange to walk around campus after so much time had passed, and with my own children. In some ways it felt like nothing had changed [although a lot has changed on campus]. I walked by certain places on campus and recalled specific incidents– like, getting my books my first semester freshman year and sitting down in The Pit with the box, so freaking excited. Or being in the undergraduate library, pestering Rachel to help me cram for an Econ class I’d only been to twice. It was odd how much came back to me after 15 years– parts of college I loved, parts I was tortured by [Astronomy- the worst], and parts the older me would have done very differently.

Of course, if Lee has his way, MB won’t be spending her college years in Chapel Hill, but wherever she is, at some point, hopefully, she’ll be in a dorm room far away from her mama. I’m sure I’ll cry dropping her off, just as my mother did. I’m sure she’ll make some mistakes, just as I did.

But dear baby, if there is an Old Well, and drinking from it will get you all As, my advice is this:
DRINK FROM IT.  Especially if you only plan to attend your Econ class for the month of August.

This is Mary Bullock pouting because she wanted to go to WATE FOWEST. I think she was coached.

From Yesterday

Mary Bullock has this new thing where she starts stories by saying, Once, when I was a baby… And this always makes me smile [and sometimes cry] because I can’t imagine a time in the future when she will not still be my baby.

I try to remember how we got from her being Bobo’s age to now, and I swear I can’t. She was about Bo’s age when I started blogging, and now she has real hair [that she let me BRAID!] and wears big girl panties! And we have real conversations!

Last night, for instance, she had a pink bear sippy cup full of milk.
Mommy! The beaw is cwying!
Huh? I said. Distracted. As usual.

She’s cwying!
Aw! She is crying. What do you think is wrong?
She lost her baby! She was very sad about this. MB is nothing if not sympathetic.
Well where do you think she went?

She picked up Bo’s hand-me-down pink sippy, which had been tumped from his tray in a fit of gimme my cheesy poofs rage.

I found her, mommy. No worries.

Oh, how I love that baby.

Dear Lee,

You make me smile like the sun, fall out of bed

  Sing like a bird, dizzy in my head

 Spin like a record, crazy on a Sunday ni-ight

 You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe

Shine like gold, buzz like a bee…

OH! You make me smile.

Seven years is the medal anniversary. Get it? Medal? I made that up myself. Are you snarfing now? I know. This is why you married me. I promise you a lifetime of jokes such as this. Look forward to it!

Love,
Suz

First Position

I have to be honest: I am not one of those mothers who, upon getting the girl news from the ultrasound, starts imagining her little girl in tutus. To me, that kind of thing teeters too closely to the whole Princess circus that SO makes me cringe. But that’s just me. I decorated MB’s nursery in blue. I am contrary. I get this from my father.

Even when people started mentioning the possibility of Mary Bullock one day taking dance, I got kind of prickly. Really? With the recitals? And the outfits? And the make-up all over their faces? No, thanks.

But then of course, I have a real child, not a hypothetical one, a child who is starting to have real interests [insofar as a not-quite-three-year-old can have an interest, which basically means she talks about it a lot and squeals when she sees Angelina Ballerina].

And then there’s the leotard. If anything will make the mother of a baby girl’s heart melt, it is the sight of her in a leotard, tights, and ballet shoes.

Today at lunch she sidled up to me [she’s always sidling up for something at lunch, because she hates to sit in her chair] and whispered in my ear: Mama, you want to see my first position? And then she stared at her feet, which were not really in first position, but I could see where she was going with it.

I’m sold.  Ballet here we come. 

But don’t worry. There will be no tutus.
Unless she wants to wear a tutu.
Then we’ll talk about it.
But there will probably be no tutus.
Unless she turns out to be a dancing prodigy and her teacher says we have to wear a tutu.
But I’d prefer no tutus.

And definitely no make-up.

Birthday Things is a Big Girl Now!

Today, my other baby, Birthday Things, turned two! It started out with a bang. Or– more like, an alarm. As it turns out, the sound of glass breaking and the sound of Mary Bullock shrieking TINKERBELL, DADDY! TINKERBELL! are strikingly similar to the noise sensors on our alarm system. What could I do except laugh and facebook it so everyone else could laugh with me? And pour more coffee, of course?

Welcome to life in our house. Admission requirement: sense of humor.

I didn’t set out to make this blog about my family necessarily, but WOW they give me so much to work with. There are few dull moments around here.

I hope you know that there are Things I Hate in this life, but OH! the Birthday Things are so much sweeter for the contrast.

Thank you for reading, for laughing, for celebrating, for commiserating, for encouraging.
For everything.