An Inventory

When Plato said the unexamined life is not worth living, was he imagining the pace of twenty-first century family? Our mantra is: See more, be more, do more. But in what will likely be my last "leave" from work before retirement (oh so depressing) I took a moment to exhale and examine. Albeit brief, I was able to step outside of the structures, schedules, routines and rituals that organize my life. Maybe "forced outside" is a more accurate statement when dealing with a newborn. With my routine disrupted, I was able to become much more conscious about my actions, surroundings, decisions and relationships. And although disruptions can be quite unsettling...exciting things can start to happen (if allowed). New options emerge, growth occurs and priorities gain clarity. Lord knows, this type of enlightenment ain't happening amidst rush hour traffic, shuttling the kids to daycare, making dinner, keeping up with yard work and trips to the grocery store. So I'm grateful for the time I've had to slow down, breathe, focus on our Vivian and take inventory on my life. I've decided to make some minor changes - no I haven't decided to join an ashram - at least not yet. But I'm happy with the direction this "pause" has taken me.

Next Chapter

The party is over.
Vivian started daycare this week, albeit a shortened schedule. She ate, slept, cooed and displayed her general sunny disposition without any gross signs of maladaptation. I on the otherhand, not so much. I must have been in denial because I didn't realize she was starting until the day before. I sent her off to daycare with tears in my eyes and a sleeve of Ella's old size four diapers...opps. Although intellectually it was much easier this time around as we know and trust her providers, it was just as sad leaving her in the arms of another caregiver. My brain and heart are engaged in a heated debate leaving me feeling thoroughly screwed with.
Brain: You're teaching her she can trust others. You are opening her world to new experiences. You are sending her to a classroom that was designed for optimal infant development.
Heart: I like being the center of her universe. I don't want her to forget about me. I hate saying goodbye. And by the way, did you see the snot hanging off of that kid Lily?
Brain: Relax, your kid's going to have a rockin immune system.
Heart: Go to hell.

A Mom's Manifesto

There really is a method to my madness. To the casual observer, most days may appear to be a run away train; but I do try to parent with the following principles in mind: Health, Happiness and Balance. Admittedly we've lowered our standards drastically as soon as reality set in (approximately 1/26/08-the first two days we were running on adrenaline-we really were the best parents before we became parents). But, to the best of our abilities we promote "Health" and "Happiness" by: Offering plenty of foods made from scratch or meals made with ingredients that don't require a PhD in food science to decipher. We also make sure the girls get enough sleep, breathe plenty of fresh air and have an opportunities to run, jump and climb. We try to promote adventure, creativity, mess and learning. We try not to hover. We allow dirt, scrapes and minor bruises as it's all part of becoming an independent and confident kid. We encourage learning through doing. We also indulge them with plenty of hugs and kisses and visits with grandparents and loved ones. And I don't think we're doing half bad.
BUT...
It's this "Balance" part of my manifesto that always knocks me on my hiney. Balance means being able to swallow the fact that Dora may invade our house for more hours of the day then I would like to admit (like a virulent, intractable disease...sorry Dora, it ain't personal). Balance is being able to shrug off those nights when Ella comes home from a party (or a loved one's house) stuffed like a Mexican pinata full of candy. Those nights when insulin and/or a toothbrush (preferably both) should be within arms reach and the person responsible should be in the next state or risk stragulation. Balance is not beating yourself up for not reading her the nightly three books when you are too dog-tired to change out of your work clothes and your contacts are fused to your eyes. Balance is accepting that perfection can't be a reality for your child 100% of the time. And it's precisely because of these imperfections that our kids will turn out perfectly fine.
Imperfections = Perfectly Fine

Roll Out the Barrel

Ella has lived over two years without a proper introduction to Oktoberfest. What type of German am I? It was high time that Ella had a taste of her first schnitzel. So off to Edelweiss (dubbed "Chicago's #1 German Restaurant") we went. She may have turned up her nose at the spaetzel but we did talk her into some knackwurst (aka "hotdog") and pretzen (aka "bread). She even got on the dance floor for a little foot stomping and knee slapping while Mommy, Daddy and Vivian threw back a Spaten. Relax, there's no drinking age in Germany. It was like a kooky wedding reception...aside from the waitstaff in dirndls. She was not even thrown by the weird guy in lederhosen. Note she won't go within ten feet of the Easter Bunny. I got enough delicious beige goodness to last me until next Oktoberfest. With dumplings sauerkraut and pork who needs to eat in color?

What Would Brazelton Say?

We return to the grind in just two weeks. I worried that someone else was going to witness her first giggle but I managed to squeeze it out of her today. Vivian, save all of your developmental genius for the weekend, k kiddo?

Uncle Applesauce

Poor brother. Josh has always been awarded with odd and offensive nicknames. Squashie, hermaphrojosh, squad car, jod, snass pass and now, thanks to a smitten 2 year old niece, "Applesauce". This name was appointed one year ago when her vocabulary was limited to "no", "mine" and favorite food items (Josh, be thankful your name isn't Fish, as in Goldfish).
So Applesauce and Aunt Jen were in town this weekend. Jerry and I had them all to ourselves on Saturday night. We drank and dined at Jam. We admired the culinary artistry of chef Jeffrey Mauro (formerly of Charlie Trotter's). Four courses devoted to engaging all of the senses. An heirloom tomato salad with gorgonzola and chocolate...mmm, quite interesting. Pillows of foie gras tortellini...oh no he didn't. Pork with fig and olive tapenade...shut your mouth. Tea cakes with panecotta and a peach compote...delish. It truly was a symphony of flavors that left you wanting more. So much so that we stopped at Jimenez Carniceria on the way home for a round of $2.45 tortas. A perfect end to a perfect evening. And all of this was possible thanks to a generous Mimi who fed, bathed and tucked in two little ones. Way to go Mom!
The rest of the weekend was spent in Glen Ellyn, catching up (with one another) and keeping up (with an excited Ella).
Josh and Jen will be driving back to Colorado tomorrow. I can't believe their visit is over so quickly. They leave us with a beautiful quilt for Vivian, some silly band bracelets for Ella and with a yearning for more time. The hugs goodbye in the drive way are so hard...they always have been. We love you guys. Drive safe.

finally...her birth announcement

Two months later and I think we have most of the birth announcements in the mail. Jerry and I initially opted for the black and version but were out-ranked by a heartbroken grandparent. Personally, I think they are both pretty cute. But more often then not, she's the smiling sunshine featured below. Almost makes me think about having another...almost but not. Viv, I don't think I can underscore the power of that statement. You must be quite a kiddo.

Eye of The Tiger

She's got it. She has no choice but to have it. My daughter will be the next gymnastics superstar. We started a parent/tot gymnastics class two weeks ago. I thought it would be a good opportunity for some one on one time with our girl. Instead, I found myself sizing up the two year old competition; encouraging Ella to reach a bit further, jump a bit higher and to "FOCUS, girl, FOCUS" on what Coach Heather had to say. I let slip to the assistant coach that I worked out with the likes of Betty Okino of the 1992 Olympic team and that I had spent some time at Bela Karolyi's gym. They needed to know that my daughter had gymnastics in her genes and was therefore the ONE to watch. And Ella didn't disappoint.
But at this point, an intervention had been staged. Jerry grew concerned that if I continued down this path Ella would swear off gymnastics, if not all sports completely...and then what will we do? How would we relate? I was relegated to the sidelines. Luckily I had an impressionable two month old in my arms. The recipient of whispered sweet nothings about aerials, Tsukaharas and Yurchenkos. Because why stop with one gymnastics super star? Never too early to lay a foundation, right Jer?

Navy Pier

Complete

The Biag family was complete this weekend as Jon, Jo and the kids were in Chicago. It was a whirlwind tour as all Biag reunions are. Trying to fit in as much love and fun as possible before the flight departs and we have to wait months to see each other again. When they are in town the family really feels complete. As the visit draws to a close, we realize that the next time we see them more milestones will have passed. Dean will have grown even more, he may be sitting on his own and breaking more hearts with those dimples. Allyn will have more to say (in both English and Spanish), will have the most interesting insights and ideas and will be growing into her size 18-24 month clothes. When Allyn and Dean are in town, it's as if our kids have come home. And Jon and Jo aren't so shabby either. They even agreed to watch all four children so that Jerry and I could celebrate our anniversary. And with Ella and her oh-so-intricate bed-time routine coupled with Vivian's evening needs (she must be worn and mobile at all times)...we knew that our brother and sister were equal parts generous and insane.
So we ate and played and laughed and took pictures. We made smores, wore in the sandbox and toasted togetherness. We even managed to throw in a baptism. As they prepare to board a plane to Boston later today we say goodbye once again. Already counting the days until their next visit. Love you guys!
*Note to Self: Must teach Ella how to properly hold baby sister.
*Note to Readers: Vivian quickly regained consciousness after some brief resucitation.

Good Ol' Fashioned Fun

Thirty straight minutes of silence in our house can mean one of two things: A. Wonder Pets is on (specifically, the episode with the Bengal tiger) or B. Trouble is brewing. This morning, knowing that Ella had not yet made it downstairs, I knew it was the latter. Jerry was rocking Vivian back to sleep and I was saddled up to the breast pump and there was no way out of either of those scenarios. After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to peek behind her closed door. She was hosting a tea party...oh, sweet. With Benadryl...what the what? Jerry and I immediately had our "Parents of the Year" title revoked. Donald Trump flew in and everything. Talk about embarrassing! We hope to regain the title next year. Until then, all medicines have been relocated to an undisclosed location.

Side Note: Don't know what I am more mortified about...my child potentially overdosing or mentioning my name and breast pump in the same sentence. Ugh. Haven't they invented a way to make breast pumps sexy yet? Lady Gaga, time to get on that!

Side Note 2: Above picture is the more "fun loving" trouble that I so enjoy. No pictures were taken of the tea party due to parent hyperventilation and the interrogation and forensics that followed. Is the medicine in your tummy? Are you sure it is not in your tummy? Let me smell your breath. Stick out your tongue.

Siete!

Seven years ago today we exchanged vows. And for the last seven years, you've made it so easy to be a wife. You are unwaveringly thoughtful, kind and patient...the kind of partner I hope our daughter's will find some day. (If they bring home a putz I can promise it's not your fault...it would only be teenage rebellion.) This last year we've moved, moved again, got pregnant and had a baby (in water no less...I still can't believe that). We've even managed to squeeze in some potty training, a triathalon and a trip to Mexico. This was only life at home. Work is a whole different arena. You recently accepted a promotion and you have officially entered into the world of management. And despite the many hours that your job asks of you, of all of us, you bust your rear to make it on the 5:13 train and walk in the door ready for your cameo as energized and fun dad, dishwasher, bath giver and nose wiper. I realize this is no small feat after a day of meetings, meetings about those meetings and the other fun perks that come along with your membership in corporate America. I know, it's a lot to juggle and I am so proud of all that you have accomplished. Please know that I am, and will always be, your biggest fan. So happy anniversary sweetie. Looking forward to seeing what our next year will bring. God willing, it will be a bit less eventful. But if it isn't, you are the perfect partner to have.
Love always, always...
Sarah

Her Baptism

It looks as if Vivian's godparents are already inspiring thoughts of higher goodness. Way to go Jon, Joanne and Josh!