Happy teeth

Before: Daddy the "dentist" and assistant Parker

After: a real first grader now, complete with tooth fairy pillow

(okay, I promise no more teeth photos for a while now - Alyssa was much happier to let Daddy tug on the ridiculously loose chomper after I promised an honorable mention here!)

Because the Olympics are just so cool

We’ve been a little obsessed with the Olympics in the Three-Times-A-Mom household lately, and I have to say I’m somewhat relieved that most of my favorite sports are over. Even with TIVO I’ve been staying up way too late and neglecting too much housework, but how can you resist when they only come around every 4 years?! Here are a few random Olympic thoughts that have been floating around my head:

Isn’t Michael Phelps amazing?! Not only is he the greatest Olympian of all time, not only does he look a lot like my husband in form and face (though not nearly as attractive), but he seems like a genuinely nice guy. He was quick to give credit to the teammates who helped him win 25% of his medals doesn’t seem intent on tooting his own horn. Unlike…

Mark Spitz. I wasn’t around to see his golden races but his attitude for these makes me think I didn’t miss much. He seemed determined to turn every praise of Phelps back into a promotion of himself and reportedly was quite annoyed at not being invited to bestow the 8th gold himself. The person I would have liked to see put the gold around Phelp’s neck, however, is…

His mom! My favorite moment thus far in the games has been that shot of Debbie Phelps holding up 2 fingers for Silver, and then disappearing onto the floor when she realized her son won another gold. Because I’m lame I can’t find the video clip to link, but if you haven’t seen it you need to.

How gorgeous are the Chinese women who escort the athletes around the arenas and assist in the medals ceremonies? Their dresses are exquisite (again, too lame to find a photo) and I find that the more I grow to love my daughter, the more beautiful Asian features become.

Can dressage really be called a sport? And if so, shouldn’t it be the horse that gets a medal rather than the rider? It seems to me that anything in which a 64 year-old man can complete with athletes in their 20s or 30s, or a man competes equally with women (sorry girls, we really aren’t as strong) can’t really be all that athletic of an event.

Two sports I’m sorry to see go are baseball and softball. I wasn’t especially worked up about it until I found out the reasons: baseball doesn’t attract enough “stars” and softball attracts so many American stars that we’ve never lost the gold. Does that mean we should eliminate diving because the Chinese are so dominant?

I’m not normally a huge fan of Track and Field events, but this year I will be watching 2 races with interest: the woman’s 200 meter because of Allyson Felix, and the men’s decathlon because of Bryan Clay. Both are believers, and I have less than seven degrees of separation from both. Allyson attended the same High School as Danny and her father teaches at the seminary attached to our church, and Bryan’s wife is a good friend of my sister’s. So there you go – I “know” two Olympians.

Some Olympians I’m not sad to call strangers as a group are the sprinters, and the Jamaican’s have especially rubbed me the wrong way. They are remarkably talented… and remarkably lacking in humility. I know it’s wrong to judge based on those few moments we see on television, but they stand in stark contrast to so many others who seem to handle their success with grace.

How does anyone watch the games without a DVR? We watch 12 hours worth of broadcasting in 2! Just can’t imagine doing it any other way. The downside, however, is that despite our best efforts we often end up knowing the outcome before we get a chance to see it. Why is it that my MSN homepage has the option of hiding the results, but then plasters photos and headlines all over the rest of the page? I’ve gotten quite skilled at averting my eyes and rushing on over to Google or a Favorite.

Well that’s all I’ve got time for – the Olympics (and dinner!) are calling.

Like mother, like daughter

I sent Alyssa into the play room to clean up her kitchen, and this is how it turned out:

It's more than a little scary how much this girl is like her mama!

All grown up

Or so she thinks.

First grade started today and Alyssa is in heaven! She nearly sprinted to the gate this morning and chatted incessantly about it during that short interval between picking her up and crashing into bed from sheer exhaustion. Blessed mom that I am, all three kids still take a good nap in the afternoon, so this new full-day schedule is going to throw a wrench into our routine. Parker and Alyssa will be okay (I think) waiting until 2:45, but poor Reagan passed out three times in the car while we were running errands, and then didn't have enough sleepiness in her when we got home to go down with the big kids. Just what is a mom to do when pick-up time is smack dab in the middle of nap time? Any ideas? I'm sure we'll figure out a new routine soon enough, but pray that it will include at least a little time each day to myself. Enough complaining though! On a more positive note, Alyssa's teacher seems great - very experienced, friendly, authoritative, and anxious to include parents in the classroom. I also find that I'm making friends! We already know 7 other families with first-graders at her school (that's about 7 more than last year), and they all speak English! There's still a great variety of cultures (including a couple of Asians - yeah for Reagan!), but I can actually communicate with the other parents. The pick-up spot is at the park adjacent to her school, so I think Parker, Reagan and I will really enjoy playing at the playground and socializing a little. I do miss summer, but I guess the start of school isn't all bad,

Vacation!

I had great plans for composing a few thoughtful posts while on vactaion last week, but instead I read 15oo pages, slept in, and spend hours in the pool with the kids. A far better trade off for me, but yet another photo post for you. Perhaps my brain will return when school starts again on Thursday... yes, this Thursday.

Beach babies

I am not a beach mama, so these pictures represent a rare concession for the sake of my children, who inexplicably love the sand but seemed a little confused about the purpose of our visit. Reagan seemed to think that the principle fun of the ocean is to sit and suck the cheese off of as many Cheetos as possible. Parker took the responsiblity of chasing the "ski gulls" away from our picnic very seriously. And Alyssa worked very hard to provide a continuous supply of sea water for feet washing and castle building, taking care to never actually touch the Pacific. At the top of my list was a public outdoor shower, plenty of Coke Zero, and a treasured opportunity to just sit and watch my babies play without distraction.

When SaSa gets ahold of a curling iron

My sister, "Auntie SaSa" to our kids, is a gifted hairstylist with only a husband and son's hair to play with on a daily basis. This less-than-cooperative sister likely shames her with my air-dry-then-pull-it-up-into-a-pony look, but my girls provide frequent opportunities for expression with a curling iron. Reagan wasn't terribly impressed with her curly locks, but Alyssa was all too ready to strike a pose.

Fair fun!

Happy cowboy

Happy cowgirl

"Training" the daddy to flap his arms like a bird - and his reward!

Token family photo at the suprizingly entertaining turkey races

Breaking news!

From the sounds of our newscasts since noon yesterday, you'd think there was an actual crisis in LA. That is, until you look up from your laptop and watch a video clip of perfectly tidy mini-mart shelves looped to play over and over again, peppered with periodic shots of a solitary brick-strewn ally, presumably to document the earthquake's "devastation." I am grateful that it was only strong enough to make me think one of the children had bumped into the back of my beach chair, that it prompted Dan to finally pay for earthquake insurance on our new home, that the news provided a genuine belly-laugh for our family, and that we live in a city where "storm watch" means the sun will be clouded over for at least part of the day, "heat watch" means the temperatures might hit the low 1oo's, and "breaking news" rarely is.

You know your grandparents love you

when they're willing to take you camping - no parents allowed! Between fishing, the waterpark, smores, playground and a lot of dirt, the the three biggest grandchildren all had a blast. Papa and Tilly insist they had fun too, but admitted that the tent is out and a tent-trailer is in for next summer's trip... can't say I blame them!

Not quite Albuquerque, but...

...still pretty fun! This morning we dragged the kids out of bed at 0'dark-thirty to drive to an adjacent county's balloon festival. I'm sure the 3o or so balloons we saw don't compare to THE festival, but we all really enjoyed seeing them up close, talking to the pilots and snapping a few photos before heading home before we are usually even out of our jammies.

Summer lovin'

One thing I love about summer is the fruit. The fresh bounty available this time of year brings back so many wonderful memories!

Blackberries always make me think of my paternal grandma - a woman of quiet, unending energy, who continued to physically sweep her roof free of pine needles into her early eighties. She walked many miles on even the dreariest of northwest days, and when my sister and I were with her, we walked too. Summer added a special sweetness to those walks since our route was lined with wild blackberry bushes which we collected with gusto, despite the aggressive thorns.

The unusual dragon fruit, though not especially sweet, appeared in most every yard and breakfast table on our summer trip to Vietnam to pick up our sweet Reagan.

Blueberries grew on three huge bushes lining the property of my childhood home. We anxiously anticipated the day that the Seattle sun would finally emerge and ripen the fruit. Only a small portion of the berries ever made it into the bowls my mom provided for collection, but somehow she still managed to create the most delicious of cobblers. Even now, 15 years later (!) my palate is still too spoiled by the memory of fresh blueberries to really enjoy the store-bought variety.

Raspberries also grew in our yard, but were a little sun-starved, so each berry was especially cherished. They were never bountiful enough for baking and I don't think even one ever made it inside for rinsing.

Our strawberries were always enjoyed first by the slugs, so my childhood strawberry memories are associated with the local pick-and-pay. I still wonder how inflated the prices much have been to compensate for all the gems we consumed before the cashier's desk. Strawberries are also associated in my memory with my college cafeteria. It was able to redeem itself for the meat-that-made-me-a-vegetarian through an annual strawberry fest. I can think of almost nothing better than the tables piled high with the red fruit surrounded by vats of chocolate.

As his very favorite food in the world, watermelon will forever be associated with Parker. Perhaps this preference for melon over ice cream, pizza, or any other high-calorie food explains why he's holding steady at just 30 pounds.

Do you have any summer fruit memories? Please share while I go enjoy a bowl of cherries... oh yeah, cherries: the fruit I can only enjoy fresh (nothing cherry-flavored please) and preferably warm. Each summer on our way to our lake vacation in eastern Washington our family would stop at the Haas family fruit stand where we would purchase boxes and boxes of them from the ancient Mrs. Haas who always seemed to have just returned from picking a fresh flat in the orchard. Yum!!!

Solo!

Alyssa and Parker went knee-boarding alone for the first time yesterday! Both did great, though Alyssa was quick to assume her spot as "flag girl" after one run and Parker kept asking for "one more turn." Daddy improved his skills too, while this mama spent more time making sore muscles than actually skiing. Little Reagan was a little ill, so she spent the day with Grandma Tilly instead. Perhaps we'll get all three out on the water next trip!

Too few words

Most of my life I’ve longed to be more outgoing. I wouldn’t necessarily call myself an introvert (at least by this definition!), but I never seem to have a lot to say. I’m not afraid to share my opinions or talk about myself, but what might take my husband 15 minutes of colorful storytelling I could probably convey in 15 boring seconds. Fine and good if you’re in a hurry or value conciseness, but not great for prolonged conversation… or maintaining a blog. I marvel at those who can write pages and pages on a daily basis, convey in great detail the life of their family, articulately expound upon the latest issues in the adoption community, or challenge me with some spiritual insight. I am a girl of brevity (which is why I often resort to pictures!). I’m drawn to those who can manage so much more. My husband is my extroverted opposite, my friends are generally quite verbose, and even the blogs I visit most frequently are maintained by men and women God has blessed with far more words than I. Though there are corresponding benefits to my personality, and God is faithful to convict me of the related sins I am prone to (read: self-centeredness), I sometimes find myself falling short – even here on this blog - of what I wish I could be.

Cute, but why?

Alyssa's kindergarten graduation is old news by now, but since my parents are out of town and missing their grandbabies I thought I'd post a few photos. The ceremony was pretty cute and Alyssa took the job of sign-holder for one of the musical numbers very seriously, but I still don't quite grasp the point of it all. Why is the promotion from pre-school, kindergarten, 6th, and 8th grade a bigger cause for celebration than 1st through 5th or 7th, 9th, 10th and 11th grades? Are children who will end up repeating kindergarten excluded from the pomp and circumstance? Questions I don't think I'll get answered... but we had a great time, clapped and cheered with the best of them and completed the celebration with a Happy Meal lunch!