Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Drinking Helmet

Bedtime routine.  Ready.  Set.  Go.  Bath, teeth, pee, pajamas, four flips on the bed, two books, drink water, white noise on, lights out, Genevieve on my left, Marguerite on my right, tickly back rubs, and sleep.  Slowly peel each child off.  First Marguerite (she's the lightest, easiest to roll).  Then G.  Tuck them in as they fold towards each other in sleep.  Stealth walk across the floor so quiet I make ninjas jealous.  Up the stairs and out the door blinking bright Alaskan evening sun out of my eyes.  Thank my parents for watching the girls, tell them not to stay up, they will hear them if they wake up.  They won't wake up.  I hope they don't wake up.  I've got my phone, call me if they do wake up.  I'll be home by midnight.  Nothing good happens after midnight.  They agree.  They tell me to have fun, not to worry.

Friends gather.  Friends who I have known since before I was a punk teenager.  Friends who I see once a year at best.  Friends who make me laugh so hard I cry.  There we are, the same people we've always been, picking up where we left off.

I imagine my daughters reading this blog someday.  If they are mothers themselves they will understand the I CAN DO ANYTHING sense of freedom that comes with a night out and away from the care and feeding of their littles.  They'll see this photo of me, out on the town, having a drink with life long friends at Alice's Champagne Palace, wearing a borrowed drinking helmet and looking not so much like the mama who lulled them to sleep that night. 

I'll tell them that I got home at 12:12 a.m. feeling the same angst of those punk teenage years when sliding in just over curfew.  Grandpapa was sitting in his chair reading, waiting up, making sure I made it home safe.  I slid back into bed like I'd never left.  Like I hadn't laughed until I cried, like I hadn't worn a borrowed drinking helmet, like I hadn't felt I CAN DO ANYTHING freedom.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

AK Sojourn

July in Alaska this year is different than a year ago.  A year marks so much change, and our summer sojourns to the homeland make tidy benchmarks.  Most notable this year:  1.  No diapers.  2.  No lactating.  3.  Perfect weather.  4.  Kid free time with my mama, thanks to my papa. 

I've been a bit checked out of my daily photo taking groove - but here are a few favorites from our trip.  I'll post the rest on my Realized Mama Facebook page here.

Mastering the vodka tonic:

Kachemak Bay:

Marking another year of bean poling:

Relaxing on the porch:



My kid holding a kid:

Beachin' it on big tides:

 I'm watching a big moon rise over the bay, listening to sandhill cranes, ignoring my 400 mosquito bites and loving this bite of time I have in a place I'll always call home.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

First Fish

After completing the compulsory bathing, feeding, laundering barfy travel clothes and logging a solid 10 hours of sleep that comes with traveling with two small children we woke up to a beautiful blue sky and calm waters waiting. 

Our morning was spent across the bay, playing on the beach and looking back on the bluffs of Homer. 

Marguerite's lids get heavy the second the motor starts on the boat, leaving her in a generally dopey state. 

Genevieve decided to be pissed off for a while when the tide wasn't cooperating with her primary reason for coming to Alaska....to learn how to fish.  Eventually the tide line and all it's treasures brought her back to happiness.

By day's end, with a lot of patience from her Grandpapa, she caught her first fish.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Alaska 2013 - The Beginning

Our journey started at 3:30 this morning.  By 9 a.m. we stumbled off the plane, starting our two week adventure in style.  Me with a fresh shiner growing more purple and mortifying by the minute, Genevieve covered in vomit, Marguerite with a glorious crown of bed head and chocolate encrusting the front of her pink t-shirt.  Watch out Alaska, we're here!

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Quote of the Day

Genevieve:  Mom, if you just stop staring out the window and focus your eyes on your play dough project I think you'll be happier with what you make.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Boat Guy

Look!  Drew is turning in to boat guy!  Swoon. 

Good thing the girls are preoccupied with a play dough project so they are out of earshot of all of the motherf*^@#ers and other salty swears that are sure to come with replacing a throttle cable.

Safety First

Monday, July 8, 2013

Summertime Bath

Does letting your kids run through the sprinkler naked count as bath night?

Tonight, why yes, why yes it does.


Fourth of July - it's one of those days that really emphasizes differences between my husband and I.  I have a picture perfect day in mind.  Red white and blue, but not TOO red white and blue, more of a faded-old-glory-vintage red white and blue.  A parade.  A backyard barbeque with family and friends that includes a side dish of star shaped watermelon and blueberry salad.  Pinterestesque.  Drew, on the other hand, anticipates two things. 

1)  Haggling for quasi-legal fireworks on an Indian reservation. 

2)  Blowing up said quasi-legal fireworks after the sun goes down.  The end. 

I didn't get my parade this year (eclipsed by the extra long visit to the reservation - who can pass up an extra 35 minutes seeking out the best deal for explosives at Titty Titty Bang Bang??).

Why yes, that is my small child amongst tall men and big boobs seeking her favorite explosive.

Upon the realization of no parade again this year I found myself temporarily stuck in bitch mode.  As soon as we found ourselves gathered with friends for a barbeque I regained my jubilant spirit. 

Neighbors gathered at dusk at our house for the best fireworks in town.

Next year I'll skip the res and hit the parade solo if I have to.  Here I am, showing my true colors this Independence Day.

Let freedom (and quasi-legal explosives) ring!

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Dog Days

I read this essay on Mamalode today, and it so spoke to how I've been feeling the past few days.  Summer is here.  The season that I yearn for during the dark and rainy months.  It's hot, the garden is exploding, schedules are wide open, little girl cheeks are sun kissed.  And with that, everything seems dirtier, stickier, slower, more irritable, more chaotic. 

Enjoy the moment.  Not an original thought.  Sometimes hard to achieve.  Today I came to terms with something, took pause, really sorted out how I was feeling.  I've been carrying around a tightly wrapped package of sadness that was delivered to me well after our decision to not have more than two kids was made permanent.  It's not regret.  It's not denial.  Just a lingering sadness that with so many firsts come as many lasts. 

I watched them from a distance, still babies if I squint my eyes towards the sun just right, playing wildly, kids and dads.  I drew breath, relaxed my shoulders, and felt long sun warmed hair down my back.

At peace.