Reflections

Over the last eight (almost nine!) years I have enjoyed blogging about my parenting journey and the milestones and vacations in that time period.  I've begun to wonder, though, about the safety of having this much information about the kids out there for the masses.  We did a brief stint here at Planet Bowling with a private blog, which was a bit of a disaster with people that couldn't access it and those that decided it really wasn't worth the effort after all.  We all want information that falls in our laps, not something we have to remember to look up or remember our password to access.  That said, I love what I have here and the photography plus prose format isn't available on Facebook/Instagram, et al.  Those that think keeping a blog up to date is quick and easy clearly lack one of their own.  I'm not sure what the future holds for the blog, but I feel that some events are worth the effort.   School beginnings and endings rank up there for me.

Once upon a time, there were two little kids starting their first day of preschool.  For the big one, it was his fourth and last year at the school.

 

And for the little one, it was a new beginning.

 

That little one got really big over the next four years.  

And in time, she got a little sister of her own to share her last preschool year with.

And they were the best of friends.  The end.  

Of course the story doesn't end there...

The littlest one loved her first year in preschool almost as much as her big sister loved her last.  They both loved every craft project and all the time they were able to spend on the playground with their buddies.  They loved playing together while big brother was at school and are going to have a tough time when kindergarten starts next week taking them in different directions.

Twinsies.

These girls love to play Mermaids together and share a love of dress up, babies, animals, swings, and the ubiquitous Anna and Elsa.  Their brother does not. 

Big brother and his bus stop buddy lounge in the driveway on the last day of school.

He loves scooters, bikes, swimming, Minecraft, and reading.

Obviously the girls aren't the only cute ones in the family.

Fall Roundup

School, soccer, and scouts.  That's the fall in these parts!

This year Alastair is a second grader.

He was so excited for his first day he put up with a few pictures.

Two weeks later, Emery finally got to start school.

This year she is going three days a week in preparation for kindergarten next year.  That is, if I let her go.  Emery has already agreed that we are going to college together (Hook 'Em Horns!) I'm not sure I'm going to let her go off to kinder without me.  She has been bucking her nap lately, though, so I figure one summer without naps will cure that notion.

Guess who else started school this fall?

Nelly loves her "Fish Class" and tells everyone about it.  She doesn't quite get the concept of attending only one day though and spends the first day we drop off Emery confused as to why she isn't going, the second ecstatic because it is finally her turn, and then Friday devastated because it is all over for the week and Emery is going without her again.

She is awfully fond of her big sister.

Speaking of that  sister...

Emery was all about soccer again this fall.  She is part of such a sweet team of little girls and it is neat to watch their playing evolve.  This season Emery scored three goals and her offensive play and ball control improved immensely.

She wants to play again in the Spring, but we are reserving a decision on that until we see what we have lined up.  Last Spring we overcommitted the entire family to various events and by May, it was painful to keep up with everything.  I cringe to think about it.

Alastair took the sports season off and has been busy with Scouts and school.   Here he is in early October at his school's Colt Bolt Fundraiser.  

The highlight in Cub Scouts was our recent "Go See It" at Papa's shop.  The boys (and their dads) loved learning all about the various big power tools and the kids got to make a Christmas project that allowed them to use a pneumatic brad nailer.  They also got to see a turning demonstration and each boy took home their own blue and gold turned top.  As den leaders this year, this was Kim and my favorite meeting by far.  The kids were so well behaved and I think they'll be talking about it for a long time to come.

 

In October we had an event that has kept the kids talking:  a visit from their cousin Baron.  Emery enjoyed mothering the heck out of him and we all enjoyed spending some more time with Yvette and Harlan.

Yes, I made them do this.

I think Emery may have invented photobombing.

Fall means mandatory pumpkin patch pictures.  Price of one pumpkin?  Smiles and patience, please.

 

This kid.  No one else can make me quite so angry and then melt my heart with that little smile.  He is sweet, he is tender, he is a brick.  Possibly hurled through a window depending on his mood.

 

This one.  May she never outgrow her sweetness.  She has such a big personality in a tiny package and reminds me of Emery and Alastair in different ways.  Bottom line:  Nell will not be defined by her siblings.

Ah, Emery.  So passionate and tender hearted.  Heaven help us when she discovers boys.

 

They are a pretty great combination.  We are blessed.

This very Mom moment interrupted by Halloween.

There was the preschool parade.

Then the big day finally arrived.

One little black cat who knew her lines.  "Meow, Meow!  I key-cat!," she yelled.

One super sweet sassy witch, who claimed to be wicked.  As if, Emery.  As if.

Nelly left the ears on almost all night which may be some sort of record.

Like all ninjas, Alastair was hard to photograph.  Here he is with some neighborhood buddies.  Anyone recognize that wolf costume?  I didn't make the ninja costume (thanks Target!) but I did have three creations on parade around the neighborhood this year.  It was nice to see it get a second life.

In early November, Emery had a very big week when she learned to ride her bike sans training wheels and stopped sucking her thumb.  The thumb sucking achievement piggybacked on the accidental skewering of said thumb when Emery decided to see how her emergency EpiPen worked while I was outside rounding up toys.  The story is a little unclear as to how it happened, either through subterfuge or because she was as shocked as I was (very!).  Bottom line:  she managed to activate it by disabling the safety feature then pressing it into either her thumb or the table at which point it went straight through the thumb.  When she came running screaming to tell me she hurt her finger, I do recall her seeming a little more amped up than usual, but again, this is Emery and she is never one to scrimp on the drama.  After closer inspection, we figured that most of the medicine came out on the other side of her thumb and that she probably only got a tiny dose of the epinephrine.  We still had to visit the doctor, although it took so long to get in that by the time he finally came to our room, she was dancing and clapping her hands.  The prescription was to stop sucking her thumb until it healed.  The first night was very hard and was aided by bandaids.  After that, it became decreasingly difficult and we stepped down to a bit of Thum polish on the fingernail.  A week later, she was done!

Awhile ago, I promised to take Emery to get real big girl nail polish on her fingers when she stopped sucking her thumb.  After a full seven days, we went for the treat.  The ladies made such a big deal out of her and she loved every minute.  In my defense, I have no intention of taking a five year old for regular pedicures, but it was well earned.  To date, Emery is still not sucking her thumb and we are all very proud of her.

For lack of alternate childcare, someone else got to come along and she sat happily in my lap and watched Sesame Street, streamed through Hulu.  These girls were so quiet and well behaved that none of the other customers would have known they were there, at least until Eleanor discovered the fish tank and yelled out happily "fish!  FISH!"  I think that is excusable.  Hey, they were enormous fluorescent orange fish.   I thought about yelling myself.

The one about the Triathlons...

If you have been anywhere near a Bowling in the last two years, chances are you have heard enough about the sport of triathlon to make your ears bleed or at least make you wish perhaps that you were deaf.  There are two very long overdue posts on that topic which may or may not ever make it to the blog, but this one seems more important because a kid deserves to be recognized for making a big effort.  Besides, the actual sport of triathlon (and all the training that goes into it) doesn't leave much time/energy for documenting it all via the blog. Throw in several birthdays, assorted parties, and a soccer season, and here we are!

Alastair didn't stand a chance in this house.  At dinner each, we discuss intervals, bike components, and running splits.  Alastair, already a swimmer, and a very energetic lad expressed interest in doing a kids tri this summer.  To be fair, I made sure it was really his idea and that he truly wanted to do it before plunking down the cash.  Kids tris aren't cheap.

Kim and I have completed several OnUrMark races between us and have great faith in their priority of safety for the athletes and a really classy event experience.  To translate, that means they keep the cars away from us, have lots of cops watching out for us, and the loot is great.  Kim and I trusted them with our son and there are several companies we have raced with that we would definitely would not.

This race was a 50m pool swim, 2 mile bike ride, and a .6 mile run.  We may be diehards about this sport, but we tried very hard not to be "those" parents.  In preparation for the race, I did make him swim occasionally if we were already at the pool, as there was a month between the conclusion of swim team and the race.  Once he even rode his bike while I ran.  What I did do for him was walk him through transition, since that is often where this race is won or lost and there would not be grown ups directing him as to what gear he needed for each part of the race.  I wanted him to go into the experience comfortable with what was going to happen and relaxed enough to enjoy it.  

The weekend of the race (the Cypress Kids Triathlon) Alastair raced on Saturday and Kim on Sunday.  It was definitely race weekend around here and truthfully, it was a little weird not competing myself.  But as the spouse of any triathlete can tell you, the real event is getting all the kids to the race.  Saturday Alastair picked me (he likes me!  he really likes me!) to bring him to the race and help him set up.  Uncle Bill met us there too and brought along the cowbell.  In the North, cowbell means downhill racing.  In the South, cowbell means triathlon.  

The kids race is a pretty fast and furious affair since the distances are so short.  Alastair finished the whole thing in 16:22. 

Pool starts take forever to get going though, so there was more than a little waiting around.

Then it was on.  The kid was passing people in the pool, something that makes even grown ups nervous.

He sprinted through transition like a pro, grabbing his bike and getting all the way to the mount line before getting on, unlike a good percentage of the kids.

Then it was on to the run, which he completed at a 6:42/mi pace.  Granted the little bugger only had to go that fast for 3 minutes, but still.  That's pretty fast.

Then it was over.  I missed the finish although Kim got it on video for me; in the hoard of bikes coming back in, I just missed him.  He was very proud of himself and boy, were we proud too.

Then this happened, which probably has not helped the boy with his modesty deficiency.  

I love that this is a sport that people of all ages and levels can compete in.  From the six year olds to the 80 year olds, triathlon is at its heart an individual race to test one's limits.  You can spend an awful lot of money on it, but all you really need to compete is a pair of sneakers, goggles, and a bike. Alastair enjoyed his debut event and Emery is all fired up to get a shot to participate next summer.

RIP Bird Immortal

Alastair's eulogy for Monte

Our house a lot quieter now.  It has been two months now since Monte has been gone and I still find myself some nights letting the dog in and turning to where his cage stood to tuck him in as well.  Twenty two years.  Twenty two years I have covered that cage, with a few breaks for college and when Monte went on furlough for the arrival of Emery.  In that time, he became embedded in my family like he was one of us.  For a small parrot, his reach was very long.  Among the friends I have made in twenty two years, and all the places we have lived, he was universally admired and often coddled.

Monte came to me after a year long campaign to get a conure of my own.  At that point, the Lewis menagerie consisted of a dog, cat, two budgies, and sometimes a turtle or two.  The horse was in progress (long range plan) and a green cheeked conure was all I could talk about.  My poor parents.  I think Alastair's Minecraft obsession might be payback for all the avian and equestrian factoids they were regaled with over the years.

I found Monte through a breeder at a "bird fair" after my parents agreed just a bit too late to let me buy that perfect little bird at the petshop.   By the time my parents relented and brought me back to the store he was gone. The day I convinced Dad to fire up the Acura to take me into the wilds of Lenexa, Kansas, I had solid parental buy in.  If they had known quite how long he would live, I'm not sure that would have been the case.

Monte was a cuddly little baby when he came home with me:  eating solid food but with his tail feathers not fully grown in.  I would let him out of his cage in the morning while I got ready for school.  Monte would waddle along the floor in his silly way and then climb up my pajama pants in order to clunk at himself in the mirror or try to get into the sink.  That little guy loved water.

When they were both kids

By the time I went to college, Monte had a solid routine down watching out the second floor window for all our cars to return home.  He never learned to talk, though it is possible for the breed, having secured enough popcorn and spaghetti noodles through shrill cries or something clearly resembling be a wolf whistle.  He did have a distinctive announcement cry as well that clearly meant "someone's home!" and over the years several dogs (for he outlived them all) learned to heed the warning and would rush to the window to see who it was.

An illicit sip of Coke

Monte is survived by his best friend, the brass bell that was with him from the beginning.  No enterprise could begin without a run to ring the bell first.  Add new food:  ring-a-ling!  Open the cage:  ring-a-ling ding!  Sometimes Monte would wear his bell tipped rakishly over one eye and peer out at us from underneath.  On those days we called him the cockeyed sailer.  When he was feeling a little feisty, he would box with the bell, bobbing and weaving with shrill whistles and shrieks.  Occasionally, he would get so worked up he would fall off the perch and then grumble in conure curses on the way back up.  Monte didn't hold a grudge and would be back canoodling with his bell immediately.  This year the bell is going to take up residence on our Christmas year, to be brought out every year when it is time to remember.

Monte in mosaic tile

Monte made considerbly more of an impact with the kids than I thought he did as he was less interactive than a dog and made it clear pretty early on that he wasn't going to have them changing his water or handling him.  There were many tears shed over his loss and we chose to commemorate him with a mosaic stone and a gardenia bush over where he is buried in the garden. It pleases me to see that this little guy who came into my life when I was still a child was important in the lives of my own children.  Show me a dog that can do that.

Emery's eulogy for Monte

Twenty two years ago when I brought home my little friend I had no capacity to predict what my life would look like by the time he was to leave it.  With a husband, three children, and an aging canine of my own life looked a lot different for Monte than those pajama climbing days of old.  In recent years we began to call him "Bird Immortal" as it seemed he would always be here, joking to "go towards the light, little bird!"  When the time came for him to actually leave us though, I found I wasn't really ready at all.  I feel a relief from the never ending cycle of water changing (which would be icky about five minutes after changing it) and actual pet maintenance.  What has not gone away is the guilt of knowing I was not the bird mom I should have been to him in the last few years.  That remains.

Maine 2014

I love going to Maine; you've probably figured that out by now.  What I don't love?  Corralling all the pictures I take into one tidy little post.  The old Nikon gets a pretty good workout up there and by the time we come back to Africa Hot Houston (yes, it's a thing), it's a little painful to look at all that cool beauty.

With minimal narrative, here are the pictures from our trip this year:

Porch time.

Playing at the town beach.

These kids love to dig.

A good sport.

My favorite hiker.

We worked on his Cub Scout hiking pin this day.

Azicoos is not an easy trail, but it is my favorite.

Alastair felt pretty proud of himself.

Craft shows.

Kayaking with Grammie and Papa.

Exploring.

Our next boat will have to be a bow rider.

Little big britches loves the boat.

Water sports at dusk.

Water sports during the day.  With a new friend!

A little more.

And even more.

This girl is a boat girl too.

The crew plus dog.

Crew minus dog.

Playing on our beach.

Little bit got in on the action too.

The 4th of July fireworks were rescheduled during our visit.  Lucky!

Lover of "lop-plops."

Angel Falls.

Chris and Mr./Uncle Skippy.

My favorite hooligans.

The trail crosses the river about six times.

Little adventurer.

Sigh.

Kayaking Kenebago River trip.

"The Water is Wide."  But shallow at the end.

Lazy mornings on the porch.

Time for dreaming.

Examing the locals at the Pine Tree Frosty.

Sister love.

Emery sharing her cone.

Annual picture.

Alastair shooting the BB gun.  No eyes were put out.

I tortured the kids with dock pictures.

Fun times.

Fun kids.