A perfect day

Yesterday was a really, really good day. Despite the fact that some small wretch shifted the time on my clock so I woke up at 7:00 am, and leaped out of bed swearing because my clock said 8:00 and the neighborhood garage sale was starting in an hour and I had to unload more stuff, get change, and finish pricing everything. And Boo, the blame rests squarely on your small shoulders.

In any event, post-garage sale, Ironman and the girls picked me up, we went and got sandwiches and went to the local Audubon Bird Sanctuary for a picnic. We saw snapping turtles, snakes, bullfrogs and minnows. The girls threw bread to the fish and the turtles. It was a gorgeous day.

Boo fell asleep on the way home, so we poured her into bed and Ironman took a nap too. Dev and I watched a Peter Rabbit video, and then dyed half a pound of merino in some lovely colors (Jacquard Acid Hot Fuchsia, Violet and Turquoise - yowza!).

Last night, I spun up the second half of 4 oz of alpaca/merino/silk blend (65%//20%/15%) and it was like spinning air. Tonight I'll ply it and give it a bath (and consider overdyeing it, since I've got a bunch of dyes to use up).

I've also got 4 oz of undyed sock yarn that I might dye in ridiculous colors for these socks (it's the year of playing to my not-so-inner science geek I guess). Life is good.

Four years

Devil -

At this exact moment 4 years ago, I was lying in my hospital bed thinking "You have got to be kidding me," while my OB/GYN called over yet another of the ten people at the foot of the bed saying "Come here, you have to feel this." Ah, the joys of giving birth in a teaching hospital. Twelve hours later I was sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the night, trying to nurse you and getting distracted by the perfection that was your left foot. Who could have imagined that something so small and tiny and perfect had been lurking inside that big bump? Everything had changed in that short span of time, and even then I really had no idea how much the axis of my world had shifted.

This past year has been a challenging one, for so many reasons, but it has been so phenomenal at the same time. I looked in on you yesterday while you napped and laughed out loud - you had fallen asleep in mid-fidget, with your knees bent, and one leg propped over the other, just like you were leaning back waiting for the show to start. And I wondered where on earth you came from and what happened to that tiny baby?

In the past year you have just become such a fabulous, difficult, endearing, infuriating presence.

I think maybe part of the challenge for me is that we share some not-so-endearing traits that I have trouble dealing with in someone else. It's best if we don't speak to you in the mornings, and I am counting the days until you are old enough that CPS won't lock me up for feeding you coffee with your breakfast so that we can have a conversation without you snapping off someone's head.

Like me, if you are feeling a bit put out about anything whatsoever (aka Boo is looking at you and you want her to stop), you absolutely do not want to speak about it or interact with anyone - Greta Garbo has nothing on you kid.

But when you are in a good mood (or have gotten enough sleep!), you are one of the sweetest people I have ever known. You have a gift for defusing your sister's intractable tantrums, and will go out of your way to take care of her. You are fiercely protective of your family, and are not shy about drawing a line in the sand if you find it necessary.

You are a complete goofball, with a wicked sense of humor and an even wickeder smile.

And watching you run is watching pure joyful energy take flight.

Nothing has ever changed me so much as becoming your mother, sweetheart. Thank you.

Olive juice,
Mama

Boo is two

And boy is she ever.

Dear Boo,

Well sweetie, another year has flown by. And you've gone from a very cute small person wobbling around to a running, jumping, talking (!) person with enough will of her own to push around The Incredible Hulk. Although you'd probably say "Mama, he's scary" right before you marched up and kicked him in the kneecaps.

You are what my great-aunt Hazel would term "pathologically independent". A typical second born, you have no fear, marching in to any new situation with abandon and not a care in the world for anything else. Although occasionally I worry that this tendency is going to give you some problems in the future, it is an amazing thing to watch, and as different from your sister as night and day.

Which is kind of nice, given that you two look like I'm running my own human cloning lab on the side.

You love singing and dancing and looking at books. You have inherited from your wonderful father the sunniest morning personality ever, which occasionally makes me want to stick my head under the pillow at Sparrow's Fart when you engagingly call out "MAMA!" so you can be released from your prison. But the huge smile lighting up your face when I come in the room, and the way you snuggle in to my neck and hug me makes up for it all.

The changes from birth to one are truly incredible to witness. But, having now gone through it twice, I think the changes from one to two are even more astonishing. You haven't grown quite as fast (although you will eat everything not nailed down, and have vaulted past size 2T into 3T), but the incredible changes in your abilities to communicate, to interact with the world around you and to express your personality are awe-inspiring.

I love you so much Boo. Happy Birthday sweetheart!

Love, MAMA! (who has to go finish your kittycat cake)

Oy!

Well, we're back. A bit battered around the edges (despite the luxurious plane accomodations), having entered/experienced 34 houses in two days (including interacting with one estate agent who later referred to us as "that nice Aussie couple !???), but with a short list, neighborhoods and schools considered, and an offer made. Now we just wait and see what happens with that, but it looks like the ludicrously fast-moving corporate moving machine is cranking along.

I did very little knitting while we were gone - half a sock foot done on the flight over before I had to fall asleep, a bit during the week, and nothing on the way home, since Heathrow is notorious for not allowing knitting needles on the planes. I decided that, although I received several very good suggestions about how to get my needles onto the plane (ehem, Heathermione I'm talking about you), it was the better part of valor not to piss off the British version of TSA if I want them to let me back in to the country.

Since I have no knitting to share, I will give you a brief tour of BA's first class and business class cabins, plus the wee bit of sightseeing I did in town on Wednesday morning. There will be craft goodness later in the week, but it's not mine - it's my Mother's (I put her to work while I was gone). So sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.

Ironman settling in for the arduous journey across the pond

My personal entertainment system, and

seat controls. Please note glass of vino and cashew/macademia nut snack. We hadn't taken off yet. And yes, I did feel like the world's biggest tool taking pictures of this stuff. However, I did not let that slow me down too much. As you can see...

...because I took pictures of the bathroom. Sad, isn't it?

On the way back we had to "settle" for business class, but the trauma was mitigated by the fact that we were on the upper deck of the plane. You know, one of these planes.

The view from the top floor.

Instead of facing the same direction as on the outbound flight, we were forced to face each other, a situation that had my lovely husband playing with the privacy screen for more time then was strictly necessary. I watched 3.75 movies on the way home and read my latest airport book. Sadly no knitting, otherwise I would have a finished pair of Science Geek socks.

Time to continue my battle against jet lag, so I'm off. More crafty stuff on Wednesday. Ta ta!

Ahhhh...

It's the last friday before Christmas, and I am sitting in the living room of my parents house with a cup of tea and my knitting. The snow is coming down, and Boston is predicted to get anywhere from 8-12 inches. The girls are wired beyond belief, and my goal is to turn this

into a pair of these before we head up to Vermont tomorrow afternoon to go skiing. Life is good.