"They're only young once", my mother warned not too long ago. At the time I was probably wrestling a flailing Vivian into her car seat while Ella chased down the mailman to say hello. And I was likely thinking to myself, "THANK THE GOOD LORD!". But yesterday as we walked home from daycare on a couldn't-be-more-beautiful summer day, Ella's hand in mine as she told me about her day, Vivian in the stroller, kicking her chubby little legs. The late afternoon sun and breeze was making her sweet baby hair dance atop her head. I wanted to stop time. I wished that my camera could capture all that I was seeing, feeling and hearing. But it would have just gotten in the way of the moment. Ella was dawdling, usually a crime in our household, but today I dawdled with her. This is what summer is about. These unplanned moments that don't require any forethought, time in the car, a television or any fancy gadgetry. It was on this walk that I decided we need to carve out more time for summer spontaneity. More specifically a weekend void of plans. Or plans that only include bare feet, blueberries, dripping Popsicles and exploration. Or plans that don't require a watch, being somewhere at a specific time or a hairbrush. You see, I have to get very specific with myself. So I've declared the first weekend in August to be our family stay-cation. Feel free to stop by and marvel at the clouds or catch lightening bugs with us. Don't bother to call first, I'll be busy watching my daughters being young...they only are young once you know.

Almost One!

La Rive Czerkies

Give a girl a fish and you feed her for a day. Teach a girl to fish and you feed her for a lifetime. Give her Mommy a watermelon mojito while she watches said girl fish and you are friends forever.

*Saying goodbye to the fish was clearly an emotional occasion.

Biag Girls in the Hizz-ouse!

Jerry Learned From the Best

Whenever something breaks around here, Ella will immediately respond with a "Daddy will fix it". And you will. Your kiss heals the most insidious boo boos, your hands attend to the most unruly pony tails , your love mends the most sensitive of hearts. Being a good father is something you are a natural at...
Girls, you're welcome for finding you the very best Daddy.

House of Cards

Jerry had his annual triathlon in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin this weekend. Teaming with a road bike, wet suit and a sundry of race gear, along with a weekends worth of clothing, bottles, diapers, wipes and a decades worth of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish, two rowdy girls and their two fool-hardy parents our loyal Maxima headed north. We typically stay at the Jay Lee Inn Bed and Breakfast and this year was no different. A beautiful old Victorian home situated yards away from the finish line of the race, gourmet breakfasts and a very patient...scratch that...saintly hostess. What is not to love? But even sainthood has it's limits. Jerry and I were sure that they would change their policy on kids soon after seeing our car pull out of the drive. Not sure why Jerry and I don't learn our lesson year after year. A historic home, a magnet for romance, and couples seeking romance, quaint, quiet rooms, a collection of porcelain dogs and other fragile antiques right at your fingertips and the Biag sisters. Let's just say it was not a recipe for success. Jerry and I tried our best to quiet down the 11 month old that was feverish and teething. We also tried our best not to disturb with a rambunctious and opinionated three year old. The worst thing was, the girls quickly had this game figured out and perpetually called our bluff. Mortified with the noise coming out of our room, Jerry and I whispered feverishly in hushed, menacing tones, fire in our eyes..."Quiet Down!", "Don't Touch!", "Go to Sleep!". But all it did was stoke the fires. We quickly realized how hard exclamation points can be to convey with a whisper. Thankfully, Jerry's co-worker, a seasoned parent with more sense, invited us over to his vacation home. We spent the afternoon skipping rocks and yelling at our children without fear of being overheard by the honeymooners next door.
You would think Jerry and I would have learned our lesson this year and plan ahead for other arrangements in 2012. But no...just as we piled the last of our crazy circus into the car, I hear Jerry confirming our reservation for next year. And get this, the inn-keeper agreed! She must have been so shocked by our gall that she did not protest. Shock and awe baby...shock and awe.

The (Play) Dating Game

Jerry and I have taken a back seat when it comes to the (play)dating game. As far as we're concerned, we might as well be off the market. We don't make eye contact with the other parents as we pick our daughter up from preschool. We don't linger, exchange complements or commiserate. We've never even been asked out. Frankly, I remain on the fence regarding the whole play date scene. On one hand, yes, I do think it is a good idea getting to know Ella's peers and their parents. We need to start soon if we are to adequately build up our arsenal of potential spies for when our daughters enter into the junior high. Proper espionage takes time. On the other hand, friendships require the ability to coordinate calendars and socialize. An impossibility at the moment given the amount of time and energy we have. So for now, we are the aloof, arms crossed, turtleneck wearing wing-nuts staring out the window of the bar hoping to God no-one looks our way. Or at least we were.
"Janie" is a little girl Ella has been crushing on for the last two months. I tried my best to squelch the infatuation...to no avail. Perhaps Ella has a bit of social work in her because from what I've observed, "Janie" needs help...in a Dr. Phil kind of way. In a Novartis preferred customer kind of way. And let's just say the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. The imagined play-dates have been tragic to say the least. I see the allure, she's exciting and impulsive, says funny things and is a trip to watch. But Ella, do we have to start this way? Can't we ease into this scene with a bit more caution? Your father and I are prudes.

The Commute Home

Recent car-ride conversations with our three year old have been going something like this:
E: "I want to blow up a balloon like this(imitates a balloon being blown up). I want a rainbow balloon. I really, really, really, really want to go up in the air like this (hands lifting towards the sky)."
Me: "What are you going to see up there?"
E: "Houses and birds"
Me: "Are you going to be scared?"
E: "No, because I see airplanes and Super Vivian!"
Me: "Where is she flying to?"
E: "To Boston to see Allyn"...."Oh, Viv's in her car seat now"...."Mommy, I really, really, really want some lip gloss....Mommy, gimme some lip gloss now!"
Me: "El..."
E: "Mommy, please, I need lip gloss because my lips look brown, like food".

I'm amazed at the territory of topics we cover when the radio is off and we're stuck in traffic. I tried my best to scribble the words of our conversation verbatim.