Summer lovliness, summer eeekkkk

I think one of my favorite parts of summer is the fresh food. The sweet corn. The melons. The cucumbers. I think I could eat cucumbers every day for the rest of my life.

Today I made just the tastiest corn chowder because, really, there's only so much corn on the cob one person should eat. Fresh corn and onions and garlic. Thyme and parsley from my garden.

Now I'm waiting for those giant tomatoes in my garden to turn red before I make a ratatouille with only fresh ingredients, including the eggplant and zucchini piling up on kitchen counter.

Just a lovely way to live.

And then there's Carolyn, queen girl of the tomboys.


Today while cleaning up from lunch, Carolyn called me out, yet again, to tell me she's found a slug. I went out only to see that slimy, yuckiness crawling around her arm trailing slime and ughhhh. Sort of like when she picked up that centipede we saw at the Redwood forest in California.

Ugh...I don't know where she gets that. It's not from me. I suspect it's not from her father. She just loves dirt and bugs and mud and all things icky.

Also, since I haven't mentioned it before, Carolyn's become a little passive aggressive. Instead of mentioning she'd like to do something, "Can we watch a cartoon?" "Can I eat a bowl of ice cream at 8 o'clock in the morning?" "Can I whack my sister on the head for being such a little pest?" are not questions she regularly asks anymore.

Instead, they go something like this: "I can't watch TV right now, can I?" or "We can't have ice cream for breakfast, can we?" She actually will just go ahead and whack Penny on the head without asking, so I guess that's something.

Poor, neglected second child

Sure, when Carolyn got her brand-new big girl bed, it was all I talked about. I made a big deal about the great garage sale find. I took a billion pictures. I let Fife try it out.

And sure, Penny got her very own bed yesterday. We had the headboard for — oh... I don't know — a year gathering dust and spider egg sacs in the garage. And I took this quicky picture...

... just before nap today mostly because I felt bad.

So, Penny got a new bed. And then we went to the pool where Carolyn went down the slide, like, a billion time and swam across the pool without...

Oh wait. I'm doing it again. And sure, Penny went down the big slide for the first time, but so do a lot of other kids. Sheesh.

Swimming season ends swimmingly

Carolyn had her final swim meet of the year. It's the B-Invite meet, which is basically for the slower, smaller kids. Even though Carolyn's a very slow, small swimmer, she pulled out two wins today out of three races.

It was super exciting. She really gave it her all, and was rewarded with "heat bags" or bags filled with suckers, pencils, coupons from local businesses and other promotional material. Basically, the best bag that ever existed.

We won't go to conference this year. So this was Carolyn's "conference" and she really did her best. I was so proud of her, not for winning (although that part was very exciting) but because she spent all summer working very hard on her swimming and she gave it all she had today.

She won on freestyle and butterfly. The race I posted, the fly, was the closer of the two. It's not really her strongest stroke and it's the most difficult stroke (in my very humble opinion), but she struggled her way to first place.

And now we can begin our carefree summer, as my job at ISU didn't exactly pan out according to the rejection letter I got in the mail today.

What Carolyn loves

Carolyn loves her bestest swimming pal, Nellie.


She also loves sandwiches.

Memo to the Gardner family

cc: Anybody who might come in contact with said family.

I am implementing a strict zero tolerance policy regarding toys and fighting. Toys that are the subject of a fight between children are automatically placed in toy death camp consisting of a plastic bag to be held in Storage Room A (otherwise known as the basement closet). This is a non-negotiable rule that is to begin immediately. No toy or child has any right to due process. Toy status is not to be considered.

These toys will be kept separately from other toys for two purposes. 1. These toys can never resume full-play status upstairs and 2. We will show this bounty to the girls in their pre-teen years to let them know we have no qualms about removing all their electronic devices for bad behavior.

Thanks you for your cooperation in these matters. I am sure this policy will eventually lead to household harmony and a peaceful co-existence.

Oh Penny

I love this blog for any number of reasons. It's read by at least two people who aren't family, making me way more popular than I am in my real life. It's a great way to publicly admit embarrassing moments without revealing them to any more than two people. And because it's a collection of thoughts, I find it infinitely better than the random brain farts people (including me) are posting on Facebook.

In fact, what I love most are the diary-like qualities. For instance, Penelope, at this moment, is almost unbearable. She would disagree with ice cream and puppies if I thought it was something she should have. And speaking of puppies, she's trying to convince us that Fife would be better off with a new family so she can have her very own, totally cute, girlie-girl puppy.

She's just rotten. I know. I'm a horrible parent for saying that, but it's almost completely true.

So I went looking back on the blog and found a similar entry for my dear, lovely, well-behaved, 5-year-old Carolyn. It's not very detailed, as my summer posts usually don't contain the details of the bored-out-of-my-mind winter rants, but I sort of remember a time when maybe spanking didn't sound as horrible as I first thought.

Turns out, 3 can equal 2. It's slightly different. I think 2 is so maddening because it's so random and irrational. But 3 is very rational. It just also happens to be evil, sometimes.

But it ends. And something new begins. And then that ends and something new follows. Turns out, children are great for the ADD stricken among us.

Could somebody lend me a copy of proper parent-to-parent behavior

Because as much as I enjoy feeling like a jackass, and believe me, I've had plenty of practice, I find some behavior among parents baffling.

You're probably wondering what I'm talking about. That's fair. I'm not all that great at explaining myself or communicating with other humans.

This mom from Carolyn's swimming just gave the girls about a half dozen princess dresses, complete with crowns, wands and oh-so-many shoes. I have never seen the girls go so bananas from a set of toys. They disappear for hours (not exaggerating, or maybe just a little) to dress up as a fairy or a disney princess or (Julia, you'll love this per our happily ever after discussion) a tiny blushing bride.

I know moms like to clean out their closets, but this was such a wonderful hand-me-down I wanted to show my utter appreciation. So I got a $10 gift certificate for ice cream.

And here is where everything went wrong. She seemed offended by the gesture. My intention was to show how much we really liked it, not to make somebody feel bad. And now I feel bad. Wrong and bad.

It figures that as soon as the girls reached an age where I stopped feeling incompetent at all times, I would make up that feeling in other areas of my life. Inability to have normal conversations or act appropriately around other moms — check. Feelings of complete loserdom — check. Suddenly worried I'm turning my girls into social pariahs — check, check (because there are two of them).

Not being able to eat ice cream or clean up the constant flow of princess dresses off the floor without feeling like a jackass. That's right... check.

A vacation to remember

Nothing is quite as much fun as flying on Southwest with a 5-year-old after you learn that a) you have about the last boarding pass available and b) only families with children 4 and under get to pre-board. Oh Southwest, this is the moment (the one where I thought Carolyn and I would be sitting in different aisles of the same 5 hour plane ride... stress level rising, rising...) I began to hate you.

So really, the only annoying experience on this trip with Carolyn to San Francisco was the plane. Oh, and the trolley car, which was overpriced, crowded, dropped us off four blocks from the Wharf and completely frightening to children.

But why mention these inconveniences (other than that's sort of what I do) when we did so many great things. It actually would be boring to list them here, but I'll try anyway. We hiked a redwood forest. We ate in a super cool pub. We sat on the beach of the ocean and took a zillion pictures in front of Golden Gate Bridge. We ate in a garden. Carolyn sustained for a full day solely on a diet of ice cream and an eclair I thought was made my Alice Waters. We watched lovely young (mostly gay) couples frolic in the Mission District. We had famous Berkeley pizza. We went to Chinatown. We saw sea lions. We walked in a rose garden.

Carolyn was just fantastic. What a wonderful age to travel with a child. She's into everything, and even when she wasn't, she never broke down or had a tantrum (expect for when she cried after she got off that god-damned trolley car). If she was pissed or bored, she'd just pout and tune out the constant conversation of Julia and I, who talked and talked and talked. Then we talked some more and never ran out of things to say.

It was just about the best trip ever. Half because it was California. Half because of Carolyn. Half because of Julia and about a tenth because we drank and ate freely. These are completely accurate percentages, and you can trust that because I'm taking an entry-level stat class at a community college.

It has always been my intention to do this same trip with Penelope the summer before she starts kindergarten. And it's a good thing, because she's suddenly taken a strong interest in the San Francisco landmarks. I just hope Julia (check out her travel blog, which hasn't gotten much action lately but gives great descriptions of what it's like to travel in Eastern Europe) is there when this time comes around. There's a good chance she could be in Moscow, and while I'm all for world travel, I'm not prepared to take a small child to Russia.

California teaser

Here are just a few photos of our trip. I'll write more later, but for now, the pool is beckoning.

Here's my favorite pic of Carolyn and Julia. They're standing in front of some bridge.

Carolyn and the sea lions at Fisherman's Wharf. They are smelly, and noisy, but oh so entertaining.
Chris and Julia on some vintage city bus. Much better than that evil trolley car. Much, much better.
Carolyn climbs her very first tree at Golden Gate Park while Julia and I drink beer. OK. It was mostly me.
This was Carolyn's expression for the entire time we were at the ocean. Pure glee.

Carolyn takes this awesome picture at Muir Woods among the redwood trees. Pictures just cannot convey what they were like, but they were fantastic.
Carolyn and mom on a fallen redwood.
Now, to the pool.

Craziness all around

It has been just a crazy couple of weeks.

I drove my grandpa to Michigan two weekends ago and took the train home the next day. While there, I caught up with some friends, a few I hadn't seen in almost five years.

Then there was Carolyn's first swim meet. We just got her ribbons today. She got two fourths and two fifths. But really, it was just a victory getting to the other end of the pool. Despite my nailbiting on the sidelines (which kind of reminded me of my own childhood, watching horses approach the finish line and I sort of wanted to snap my fingers the way old men in fidoras do, but I held back), Carolyn just loved it. The swimming. The three thousand kids. The cheering. Everything.

And finally, but not lastly, there was a five-day trip to California. Carolyn and I had the very bestest of times with Aunt Julia, but I'll write more on that later (this is not your only shout out Julie ; ). For now, enjoy this team picture of Carolyn.

It's summer. That's why

Why I don't blog more often. In case you ever wondered how long it takes a 3-year-old to say Grace, it's 19 seconds. And here it is from the most pious 3-year-old I know.



Penny is actually turning out to be the house clown. She says the funniest stuff. Things that sort of sound right, but that make it pretty obvious that she doesn't know the meaning of the words. I'd give an example but I just can't think of one right this second. Anyway, we're always laughing at these little Penny-isms. Steve theorized second children often become the clowns because they have a much bigger vocabulary, having an older sibling, but not the language skills to put everything together. This garners laughter. This garners more ridiculous sayings. Pretty soon she's shaking her naked butt at us in a brand new version of the butt dance.

It's a vicious circle.

Carolyn just lost her first tooth. It's exciting and sad all at the same time. I was not expecting this to happen so early. I also wasn't expecting the tooth fairy to pay $5, but I guess that's the going rate. Here she is today, minus one baby tooth.

baptism photos

Because I know you just can't get enough of the matching outfits.

The funnest day ever

This is Carolyn's synopsis after a trip to .... Meijer!

And it was the funnest day ever. It was the kind of day I always get about two days after a vacation. We've had enough time to rest. The girls have played with all their toys. We're just about back in our groove and, suddenly, the girls turn into complete angels.

So on a trip to Meijer, when I got everything on my list but apple juice, and we learned Meijer had brought back both the free cookies and the free horsey ride, well, that indeed was something to be celebrated.

So we did. With ice cream bars, a good old-fashioned driveway car washin' and some sprinkler time.

Funnest day ever!

Doin' da butt

My mother-in-law is right — my kids spend way too much time talking about their butts.

I guess part of the problem is that Steve and I find butt jokes infinitely funny. Yes, we are adults. No, we never progressed past fourth grade humor. Whatever. Don't tell me you laugh the tiniest bit during a good fart scene in a sophomoric Seth Rogen movie.

Just saying the word "butt" is enough to send the girls into hysterics. They love to do the "shake your butt" dance. And the problem is coupled by the inside, family joke of spanking. It's used to substitute for any other word, such as, "I love you," becoming "I love spanking," or asking "What do you want for lunch," and receiving the answer, "Spanking."

This is all well and good until we visit grandma's house. Or until Carolyn starts kindergarten and tells her teacher daddy is always spanking her.

And when this happens, I'll just blame Steve. After all, it is pretty much all his {spanking}. Trust me. It's funny.

Home at last

We just returned from a week-long trip to Tulsa. It was kind of a crazy trip because I ran my first half marathon (2:16:47, which isn't super fast but was faster than I had expected to run). We finally got the girls baptized. Steve and I celebrated our 8th anniversary with a night at the casino, where I won $100!

But what really sticks out is the fiasco.

That's right. What Gardner family trip doesn't end in fiasco? It would actually be kind of disappointing if everything went perfectly. Well, maybe not disappointing, but shocking to the point of suspecting a slip in the time/space continuum.

Anyway, we stayed in St. Louis last night. It wasn't like the 11-hour ride to Tulsa wasn't super fun, what with the sibling fighting and all, but we thought we'd break up the trip home. And, just to set the record straight, the girls were very well behaved and delightful for most of the trip.

So we decided to take the girls to the hotel pool this morning. Our hotel pool is a closed outdoor pool but there was another Sheraton on the property with an indoor pool that we could use. We opted to drive because it was kind of far away.

Fiasco starter #1: I misunderstood the lady at the desk and thought the pool was only open from 7 until 10 a.m. Turns out she meant 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. We were sort of rushing over there around 9, not wanting the girls to miss out on valuable swimming time because, obviously, they didn't get enough of that at grandma's house, with her pool.

Fiasco starter #2 : Steve hits a curb and took out a huge portion of our tire. It wasn't flat or leaking, but the 180-mile trip home made is sort of worrisome.

Fiasco starter #3: The first dealer we took it to said they could get the $300 tire, but it wouldn't be ready until the next day and they would charge us $100 "overnight delivery fee." On top of another night hotel. And dinner. And tequila.

We decided to ride home on the spare.

But... I did finally find another dealer who found us an equally good tire. Total bill: $114. Thank you.

Fiasco ender #4: I left our iPod cord at the hotel so we had to take one last stop to pick up the cord. It's not huge fiasco or anything, but after 6 hours of getting a single tire fixed, it was not not something we felt like doing.

But we're home. The girls are in bed. We turned the air on.

Trips are fun. But nothing beats coming home, especially when after learning ants had not invaded the kitchen and our basement was not flooded. It's the best!

Happy Mother's Day

It's come to my attention (thanks Steve) that my last blog was, well, on the sad side. You might have grinned, or even laughed a little, but it was probably out of pity.

But today I'm returned to gleefully lament that I have the best kids ever. Steve took the girls to the mall yesterday to pick out my Mother's Day. When he asked Carolyn what she wanted to get me, she said, "Something for her running. Maybe a running wallet."

A running wallet! It's genius. I'm always trying to figure out ways to carry stuff with me on my run (which nearly totaled 12 miles today. Go me!) Gu. A credit card. Bus money. And though I've never mentioned needing something like that, she must have really paid attention to what I've been saying and came up with the idea. Just that she thought I might like some new running stuff is enough to make me feel extra warm and fuzzy.

Apparently, she's alone. They went into every running store in the mall and nobody carried anything like that. Sounds like maybe we've got an inventor in the making. Anyway, since there were no running wallets, she settled on buying me hand soap. It smells really nice.

One out of two isn't bad. Penny, on the other hand, got candies for us to "share." She practically yanked the the package out of my hands as I tried to open it this morning.

They were tasty.

Here's an old picture of my girls. My favorite...

The graduating class of 2021

That's Carolyn. I'll pause if you need a tissue. No? Well, I never thought I'd need one either, but I about lost it when I learned this little tidbit from her new principal.

Because, it just dawned on me at that moment, now I guess she has a principal. And a school mascot. And she needs to know how to open her own milk carton and tie her own shoes. I can't even listen to the White Stripes song, "We're Going to be Friends," without resorting to a sort of blubbering that should be reserved for real problems like death, divorce and "Steel Magnolias."

It never dawned on me that I'd be tired from all this growing up crap.

Initally, I really went into this kindergarten registration thing excited. I'm excited because Carolyn is excited. She really wants to go to school, which I guess is awesome. But at some point Thursday, everything turned around on itself.

Like when Principal Shaw said our tiny little 5-year-olds will be so happy when we walk them to class and help them with their backpacks and put them in their little seats. They'll be happy on that first day, he said. In fact, they'll be happy for about a week until they realize it's better to do it by themselves. Finally they'll say, "Mom... Stop holding my hand in the hallway."

Not only that, but it got way worse for me when she did a stupid little craft at school and the teaching assistant wrote on a little piece of paper, "Carolyn: Struggled with cutting along the lines." Are you kidding me! She's already stigmatized and she hasn't actually started school yet. It's probably nothing, but what parent doesn't think their kid is the best. The best at everything.

I do. After all, she started as a lump in my belly, evolving into a totally helpless blob of person that couldn't do anything. And now she can write her name and swing across the monkey bars and ride (sort of) her bike. It's totally a miracle.

Pretty soon, it won't matter that I think everything she does is pure gold. It just crushes me to think it's starting to matter what other people think. People that don't even know her and her perfectness. It's not enough that she'll join swim team this summer and probably come in last at every race, now she's in a race of who can read the best, or who can sing the best, or who can cut the best, most accurate lines with kiddy scissors.

I'm sorry, but that's just too much for me to think about. Thank goodness none of this matters to her, at least for now. She's just excited about school. About a new teacher and friends and carrying her own lunch box.

So I'll hold her hand to class until she decides she's rather walk alone. And she'll go to her classroom. And I'll go home and cry in the bathroom, if I can make it to the bathroom. God please let me make it to the bathroom.

Because I guess that's the way it's supposed to be.

Please don't call child protective services

Carolyn is going through a bit of an injury phase right now. She's so bruised and hurt other moms are starting to comment on the injuries.

Let's review.

There's the horrible bruise, smack in the middle of her chest. This happened when she wiped out on her bike a few days ago. This is by far the worst injury, and the worst looking. I'm not even sure how she did it, other than that she was going really fast, talking (of course) and looking back at me. My dad used to tell me "It's a long way from your heart" whenever I hurt myself and came crying to him. I would have said this, because I sort of love it, but it was actually dangerously close to her heart. And lungs. And other very vital organs.

Speaking of bike injuries, there was the falling off the bike injury today that will surely result in a black eye. Hopefully, it'll be gone before she's baptized in a week and a half. (Yeah!!! The girls are finally getting baptized. Take that... eternal damnation.)

Later in the morning, she scratched up the side of her face.

Just before school, she was under her bed and re-injured her back by scraping the exact same spot she hurt a few weeks ago at the playground.

Let's just say there are a number of other bumps and bruises throughout. Thankfully, today when she was playing monster tag with her friend at the playground, there was no noticeable injury when she ran smack into a metal pole.

"No bruising? No bleeding? You're totally fine. Go play."

Why sisters are great

Today at the playground, there was this group of very annoying tweens. Actually, they were about 8 and 9, but they were real jerks. I'd also like to make fun of their physical appearance, but it just doesn't feel right to go quite that low.

Anyway, they wouldn't move for Carolyn to get through and this was making Carolyn very upset. After asking for them to move several times, with no results, she just stood there and stared at them. At one point, the girls started calling each other weird.

Carolyn misunderstood and thought they had called Penny weird.

"Don't call my sister weird," she yelled. She was ready to throw down with these jerky bullies. I was so proud.

And Penny... Sweet lying Penny. That girl doesn't know how to tell the truth.

She spills milk. "It spilled itself." She kicks Fife. "He walked into my foot." She hits Carolyn, three times, IN FRONT of Steve. "No I didn't."

It's so weird because I don't think Carolyn has ever lied. Ever. She just doesn't know how. And now there's Penny, the chronic liar. Like I've said... Sometimes this stuff comes down to hard wiring.

Either that or Penny has already learned, from Carolyn, that telling the truth just doesn't pay.

Comedic genius

I just said Penelope was probably a comic genius in my last post, and now I know it's true. She spent about 15 minutes this morning re-enacting my favorite scene from Steve Martin's "The Jerk," even though she has never heard tell of either the actor/writer/funniest-person-ever and/or movie.

After much debate, Penny decided she would, in fact, agree to go to swimming class later this afternoon. She's been mad at Ms. Connie because, two weeks ago, Ms. Connie told Penny not to climb up the ladder. I know... How dare she.

Anyway, Penny went around the house collecting her items. Her robe, swimsuit, goggles, swim cap and flip flops.

Then, she'd say she needed her new Sleeping Beauty doll.

"That's all I need," she'd say.

Then, she needed a coloring book.

"I got my coloring book," dragging the bag around the house. "That's all I need."

Then she needed a baggie of crayons. Then a giant coloring page. Then a library book. After packing each item, she'd drag the heavier-and-heavier bag around the house.

"And that's all I need."