13 summers.

I have thirteen more summers with this girl under my roof. Thirteen more lists of summer plans and trips to the library and swimming lessons and sunburns and berry picking and jam making and on this day:Volcano Erupting.

Thirteen more summers.

she.

Some babies are co-sleepers. They like to cuddle. Ingrid is a cuddler. She is also content to sleep alone, provided she is sleeping alone in MY bed. She will tolerate the bassinet, but prefers to lounge in the grown up bed with or without company.
She also enjoys a pacifier (or deet, as it is referred to in our family vernacular) but she is just as content to use her fingers if a deet isn't provided.

I love you, my wonderfully adaptable third baby.

good things come in threes?

There are days when it feels like someone is always crying. When one kids stops just in time for another to start up again. Days when sleep schedules don't mesh. And maybe I resent them a little. I love those guys. But at the end of the day, I really, really want them to go to sleep. And I don't want to see them for at least 12 hours. And I definitely don't want to see them before 7 AM. That' s the kind of jerk that I am.

So when Mister has a fever for the second time in a month and is back on antibiotics and falling out of his window at 8 PM, I may have lost my cool because bedtime is clearly 7 PM and really, what are you doing in the window anyway? When he begged for me to "cozy him up" one more time, I did it, but maybe not as gently as he would have liked.

It amazes me how I become the worst version on myself when I am sleep deprived. Just this week, I was invited to do some great things (a 5K, a dinner out with friends, a phone conversation with my dearest friend who is far away- yes, please to all 3), but I am so fried by the immediacy of their need that there is room for little else. And I see then that my love runs out. I am generally more gentle and kind at 3 PM than I am at 3 AM. I will cozy him up four times but not five. I will rock the baby, but the screaming 2 year old is harder to handle.

And I am filled with gratitude that the One who loves me has a love that won't run out. He cozies me up again and again. When I let Him fill me, I can love them even when it's hard and I'm weary. Even then.

dear laurie.

Thank you for being the sort of friend that I can not talk to for weeks and when we do see each other everything is easy and fun and natural. Thank you also for being the sort of friend that I can confess that when I made you a pie* for your birthday, I ate it so I had to make you a second one.
That is a mark of a very good friend.

*No meringue on mine, FYI. I'm anti-meringue. But pro-pie and pro-Laurie.

From delivery room to 5k

Last night I set my alarm for 6 am with high hopes of a morning run. Instead, two other alarms went off at 4 and then 4:30. After tending to them I slept right past my wake up call.

Instead of a run, I threw the crew into the stroller and ergo for a walk. I was a sweaty mess after mile 1, but the kiddos were thrilled when we stopped at a fruitstand. I bought a box of bribes, I mean berries, which made for a much more pleasant walk home.

Eastside Mother Runners are planning on doing the Summer Solstice Run at Minto Brown on June 24, anybody want to join? Tempting????

our vee

Nate took this photo.

My kids are used to us selling cool things. Especially cars. And trucks. And buses. Especially buses. But when we decided that it was time to part ways with our sweet little camper, I wasn't sure how they would take it. After all, the Shasta IS adorable and it IS a ton of fun. Even at 34, I wasn't thrilled at the idea of tent camping this summer but the truth is we had outgrown the Shasta and it was time to sell.

Both kids helped clean it out. They went with us to deliver it to the new owner. They chatted about how awesome it was going to be to camp in a tent this summer. No one complained. Instead, they looked forward to the next adventure that we'd have together: tent camping as a family of 5.

They reminded me that they take their lead from us. If Nate and I had acted bummed about selling the trailer, they would have followed suit, but because we weren't bummed they weren't either. I want them to value people over things. I want them to hold loosely to the material gifts that we are given. I want them to be generous because we have been given so much.

Also overheard on the way home from delivering the trailer: we were talking about getting a treat. Claire tells Evie, "Dad has a lot of money now, we can get ice cream." Priceless.

crafternoon delight.

One downfall of sending your kid to a great preschool is that she may expect to do awesome crafts every day. If your kid is an artist, she will require a bit more than markers and paint when it comes to crafting it up. Enter 1980's thrift store craft book. It's full of great ideas AND helpful tips:
I like how excited this kid looks while holding his crayon over a candle. (We opted to have the adult use an iron to melt crayon shavings rather than having her melt them over a candle. Call me crazy.) Shavings are placed between 2 pieces of wax paper and melted with a low iron. Yarn is looped in so it can hang in the window. Then wax paper is cut into shapes. Claire endorses this craft but did ask if she could use a candle next time.

It begins

When Nate was two he disassembled his crib. I didn't appreciate the significance of this until I had an actual two year old. Now I get it.

It's a rare 2 year old that can take his crib apart unassisted. I shouldn't have been surprised when this happened today.

how to remove cradle cap for baby hippies.

Coconut oil + fine tooth comb (or mama's fingernail, after all this is for hippies)= no more cradle cap.

Also = crazy styling and your baby might end up smelling a bit like chicken curry.

speaking of etsy shops.

Each of my kids have gotten super-cute handmade things from burdy fly away. I especially like this one because Katie chose a yellow the exact color of baby poo. Genius.

oma needs to open an etsy shop.

I'm so glad Oma and Papa's dog ate a hole in Everett's shirt this weekend. The repair job is about a billion times cuter than the original.

Thanks, Mom.