Saturday, September 13, 2008

Picture This

As I reflect upon the last week and a little more, the daily moments come in a serries of picture images. Picture this...

Ben and I sit next to two very good friends, listening to "The Music of the Night" in a truly stellar performance. I can't describe the amazing voice, talent, costuming, and stage sets. Two and a half hours without children, cares of the world, and in great company. Need I say more? Oh, and have I mentioned my favorite moment in the Phantom? The last song, after everyone has left but Christine and the Phantom, with incredible tenderness the Phantom reaches out to Christine and in the purest voice sings, "Christine, I love you." Ah, my heart melts. Ben said he was rooting for the Phantom the whole time...I think that's going a little too far.

Ben and the kids are playing in our room on the bed giggling and laughing while I dry fruit in the kitchen. After nearly 30 minutes of this gaiety I step in the doorway to see what is going on. Vaughn glances over and sees me, "Nooooo!" he yells, runs over to me, pushes me out of the room and slams the door. I guess they wanted daddy to themselves. I couldn't help laughing.

Vaughn and Reina are peacefully drinking, yes drinking (the new stuff I can't stand) yogurt in the kitchen. I am in the bathroom doing my hair. Ben is at the computer. Suddenly a scream and crying fill the peaceful air. Ben yells and carts crying Reina into the bathroom, depositing her in the tub dripping yogurt all over the place. Apparently Reina walked over to Vaughn, did something to bother him, and he poured the contents of his yogurt drink on top of her head. I can still picture it dripping off her hair, down her face, and onto the bathtub. I just wish I had taken a picture.

Reina getting ready for her first day of school. It was Tuesday. She was so excited about school starting that she asked me five times a day if it was time to go to school yet. So we made a chain. Every time she asked me if it was time, I would point to the chain and make her tell me how many days she had left. She loved counting the chains and taking them off every day. When the day finally arrived we rushed about the house in a bustle Reina saying, "I can't WAIT to meet all my new friends." She was adorable walking shyly into class and sitting so quietly at her place coloring as she waited for her classmates to arrive.

Vaughn and I got some one-on-one time as well. We went on morning walks together at Vaughns pace for a change. After 30 mintues we had only gone 1.5 blocks. Vaughn stops to look at everything: spiderwebs, butterflies, bees, flowers, airplaines, rocks...you get the idea. It was fun. "Mom, look, Mom, butterfly!"

One morning I had about an hour and a half of work to do. I let the kids "watch cartoons." I knew they were mostly playing, but afterward found out how little watching was going on. Here is a picture of every room in the previously clean apartment. And yes, the clothes on the floor were all neatly folded on my bed a mere hour earlier.





I took this picture of their room prematurely. About 30 seconds later the entire contents of their toy basket was upended on the floor. Just imagine the mess multiplied by ten.



These were (for the most part) the good moments. It's good to remember them.

Now for some real pictures!



Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Binkie Madness

It's 10 pm, you've just arrived home from some family outing, trip, whatever, and as you carry the drowsing children to bed, one of them murmurs, "Binkie." Binkie?!? Where is it? Did he have it in the car when he fell asleep? Was it forgoten at Grandma's house? You distinctly remember the one he lost earlier that day at the grocery store when he threw it, who knows where, and no amount of searching could reveal it. After another furious search throughout the house for one of the three spare binkies that you know are SOMEWHERE, you start to panic. Are you going to have to run to the store now? Reload the family and try to find the specific type that he takes at this time of night?

Suddenly, as you shake out the blankets on his bed hoping for something to tumble out you hear the wonderful sound: boink, boink. You know that sound anywhere. The binkie has left the blanket and is now somewhere in the room. And, yes, after five more minutes it is there under the changing table as innocent as a newborn lamb. Disaster #464 diverted.