Bits of News.

On a random day a week or two ago, I snapped a few shots of my babies lying around the house. Wednesday is our grocery day, so all summer these little gangsters have been coming with me. It is FUN times. Their clothing and faces this particular day needed to be documented. 

Grace and Ruby started school on Wednesday. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest, and I'm not trying to be dramatic. I watched their skinny little necks crane at the morning assembly, taking in every new sight. A new school, completely new kids and teachers. Out of their element. I wanted to scoop them up and run for the hills, but number one, I'd probably get stuck in traffic on the 5 on my way out of town. Number two, my girls need to do hard things. They need to grow and I know that. But geeeeez, their tiny little faces are just too much.

The first day went well, they told me. Kids can be kind and this school is no different. I started breathing again when they were back in my arms that afternoon. Believe me when I say I've been looking forward to school starting and them having socialization and schedule. Just didn't plan on it being so hard to let them go. 

Lillie finally got called from a waitlist for preschool and will start next week. She is beyond thrilled. It's all she talks about. Her eyes disappear into a toothy grin about any preschool-related topic. Any apprehension on my part is doused by her unbridled excitement. 

I must say.... that Tada is a parent's greatest little treasure. She's got the best sense of humor and tells jokes, "Banana poopoo? ha ha ha", "babydiaperapples? ha ha ha". She is soft and squishy. She has my flat feet, knocky knees, and looks the most like me. My two favorite things are when she runs or when she rolls her eyes. She also does those two things together. 

Walking the girls to and from school turns into a nature appreciation session with Lillie and Tadd in tow. It's ridiculous! With weather in the mid-eighties we stop every few feet to look at the ants and the bees and the flowers, I am running defense trying to keep them out of the street, and by the time we get there I've got sweat dripping down my weary back. But hey, they've poked every snail's feelers in for a quarter mile and THAT'S an accomplishment.

Last night at the beach was beautiful. Perfect weather but the waves were pretty rough. We brought a boy from Grace's class with us and she was going to teach him how to surf. I was afraid the waves were too rough, but she dragged her surfboard out there, caught the first wave and quickly stood up, riding it all the way in like an all-star while the boy looked on. I was so proud of her. She told me later how much they have in common (they both like apple cider). I both love and hate seeing her enthralled with a boy. 

Sigh. 

Recent Instagrams:

Going to Costco.

Me and my grandparents.

Day before school starts.

Natural History Museum

Second and Fourth Grade!

Preschool! 

Tada got to sit by her for a few minutes.

Beach after school on Fridays. 

^^Tada and Ruby reading before bed. Ah, the love the emanates from this room when these two girls are together... (well, most of the time).

What do you do when you move to a city where you don't know a soul? You get a lot of quality time with your kids! It's a jumble of good, bad, wit's end, head-exploding, have-to-go-to-the-beach-to-stop-the-fighting, learning, appreciating and listening better. 

Good news is, the girls have taken up surfing. Walking out to the beach is now a full-blown circus. Four little ones, three surfboards, a boogie board, two chairs, a few towels, a bag, life jackets, a sand bucket and several shovels. And Tada when she plants her feet and refuses to walk. 

But we get out there and stay 'til bedtime. We get home and Jake rinses and hangs wetsuits, lifejackets, swimsuits and towels. I trudge upstairs and extract sand from four girls' hair. They are spent and lift their dinner forks slowly to their mouths and bad attitudes and stink eyes are prevalent. 

Then, it's up to bed. They sleep in just t-shirts since it's August and there is no air conditioning here. There is sand on their sheets, always, so I spread a blanket across each of their mattresses so I don't have to take their sheets off and shake them every night. 

The calmness that descends on our family at this time is what I live for. Their chests rise and fall and I think back on the day, how it races by until this moment when time stops and all is quiet. I do what my mother always did, wipe the counters, clean the dishes, straighten the chairs, make small talk with Dad. I remember hearing their voices, just like mine and Jake's, laughing quietly together as I went to sleep as a little girl. 

Today's a new day and as I write this, the girls are playing babies in the garage. I glanced in a few minutes ago and they had 8 baby dolls lined up on Jake's work bench and a full plan of activities lined up for them. 

Need to go break up some fights now --

This week in Instagrams:

Like Yesterday.

(The girls playing fairies ^^)

The past couple of nights I have taken the older girls on Mommy-Daughter dates. These include quality time, but boiled down, they are blocks of time wherein I spoil them. Now this goes against my attitude that time spent is better than money spent. But if we're doing both? And if it's at Target? Fine by me. 

So I take them out and we pick out a few new things for the upcoming school year. 

Grace, on her night, had a billion things going on in her head. Each step, each direction, each word she says is calculated and controlled. She patronizes me and my suggestions and politely declines the things she doesn't want or care about. She's in the dressing room, and pulls on a cute new red shirt. She stands in front of the mirror then, tall, her black shiny hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face. She turns back and forth, back and forth, and smiles her smile.  

I feel that tightness in my throat, the same thing I felt the day of her birth as I held her in my 23-year-old arms. How could I love a child so much? And how is she nine now, each day and each year stepping more of her feet into this big world? 

She and I have a banter when we are out together alone. We laugh so often, when all the stress of the day melts and it's just her and I, and she is truly one of my best friends. She supports and comforts me every day without me trying or asking her to. 

Last night was Ruby's turn. She and I have talked in length about the oceans. No matter how fast the earth spins, or the fact that our planet is round, its water stays strongly attached. "Why does it not barrel full speed into the emptiness of space?", we ask each other. She recently told me that I'm earth and she's the ocean and there's no way that she could ever leave me. I looked into her eyes then, and couldn't look away. 

Ruby's IS whimsy and it shows in a store like Target. There is no fixation, no plan. Her mind wanders and I can talk her in and out of things so easily. We decide on some bright-colored jeans. She walks back and forth in the dressing room, her hands flat to her hips and her hair stretching almost to her waist. She pokes out her tummy and twists back and forth as she admires her new pants. Yes, she says. Let's get them. 

She and I have our own language and we speak it almost the entire night. There is neck tickling after almost every sentence she says. I can't help myself. She's the baby that will forever and ever be a baby to me. We park on our street, exhausted. What a grand time we've had. I walk toward our little house and breathe in the night sky and feel the weight of motherhood upon me. That feeling of responsibility for these little hearts and minds, it's staggering. 

Grace and Ruby are in that stage where they are an absolute joy. They are helpful and talkative and enjoy life so much. They are still home with me every day and they don't look too far outside our little world. I savor this time as if it will end tomorrow, because I know that's what this time will feel like. Like yesterday. 

Tadd, etc.

Tada talks like an Indian brave.

Tada. Out. Bed.
Daddy. No. Munch (lunch).
No. Bebe (Ruby). Hit.
Tada. Dink. Jush!

Right now I'm hunkered in her bedroom, sandwiched between Lillie's curly head of hair and her younger sister who is practicing every antic she has learned in her 2.2 years to keep herself awake. She is the baby of the family, after all.

This place, northern San Diego County, has got to be pretty close to paradise. I walk out onto the beach each day, laden with towels and things, the breeze and beauty assaulting my senses. I cannot believe this is our life. We stay until close to bedtime most days, little awareness of the passage of time. The tides fear no person and there is great comfort in watching a beach full of people tiptoe around the sea's force and rhythm.

We meet so many people, each day, each week, weathered by the sun and accustomed to life down here. They are extremely friendly and happy.

There is sand in our beds, the kitchen, the garage, the car. It really is the best permanent vacation of our lives.

I have taken most of my photos with my iPhone recently for Instagram and now can use the Blogger app to get them here easily. I looked back on my blog the other day and got stressed out about how much I HAVEN'T documented. Ever since we moved I have felt like I can't catch up.

But I'm determined to, one of these days when the sun stops shining so much!

Lillie turns 4.

Lillie,

You turned four in all your laughing, bubbling, emotional glory. My life journey with you is so completely different than the other girls. You challenge me every day. I have learned lately to stay a little calmer and see you. REALLY see you. Look deep into your eyes and try to listen and understand who you are. I have been defensive for too long and am ready to let you completely in. Even if it means having no control when you break down. My newest goal is just to love you with everything I have. To hold you even when I'm busy and stressed. To trust that that is usually what will patch up our day.

We have adopted your way of speaking in our house. Things like "Dawizzer it!", "I wuzz you", "Wet's do it togezzer", to name a few. You are particular about your hair, about the way your jammies fit, about how I lay the blanket over your body at bedtime. You like your cereal in a certain bowl, you have a thing for dolphins, and you are happy about our move to "Calissornia". Your binky-induced lisp is still very apparent.

You will talk to you anyone. Any mom, any dude smoking a cigarette, any lady at the store. You don't care where they've been or who they are. You will just walk right up with your little calf muscles flexed, tummy sticking out, and ask them what they're up to.

In some of your photos you are holding my hand, leading me, often to where I have never been. You pull me fast and you draw your breaths in deep and quick as you explain where you want to go in short spurts of excited language. Your back stiffens with ambition and your brow is tight and stressed. You have goals. And it's up to me to help you meet them.

When I'm not trying to calm you down, I find myself wishing I was more like you. You take life by the back of the arm, march it down the hall, and force it to do pushups. You spit in the face of those who try to take what's yours or tear you down. You fight for what you want no matter how much energy it takes, no matter how many people are in the room. I have rarely seen you give up. You only share because that is what is socially acceptable, not because you want to. You are made of a hundred yards of ribbon, some birds, a bull, several fragrant flowers, Hulk, some freshly burning firewood, a crisp juicy apple and a flash of lightning.

That's what you are to me, a conglomerate of emotion and strength and need and I love you with all my heart, my incredible little thing.

Happy Birthday,

Mama.