Life's A Beach

All summer Trevor has been wanting to go to the beach at Sturgeon Bay. I've wanted to go, too, but not quite as much as Trevor because:

• It's a "local" beach, only 45 teensy minutes away by curving, angled road that makes me carsick even when I'm driving;
• Save for about five days, the summer so far has been relatively freezing;
• We live on a bay and have beaches everywhere, and I strongly believe Trevor only wanted to go because his friend lives by it and raves about it much like I might rave about going downtown, but that doesn't mean Trevor's friend's wife should be expected to go to my downtown and not her convenient one.

However, I'm sure 75 percent of the people reading this are thinking "Where's your sense of adventure?" and "It's a fantastic beach so go already" and to the other 25 percent of you, you are my favorite readers.

So it was Sunday and we were having one of those really fun family weekends filled with lots of kid-friendly stuff, so we went. Here is what happened:

I drove, and I got carsick (which probably has more to do with my not eating a single thing that day, which is something new I'm trying and seems to be working like a charm since I've lost one measly pound in three weeks).

When we finally arrived, it was beautiful, and we got a great parking spot.

It was freezing, and the wind was blowing so hard that my really big, heavy bag couldn't even stand upright.

Marta screamed with delight and ran right into the water, while Trevor stripped off his clothes (down to his bathing suit, thank you) with one hand while he hoisted her out of the water over and over, because she was in such crazed bliss.

I laid out the blanket and got the towels ready, and Berit Freaked Out Entirely because she was so cold that she needed to wear: a) The clothes she arrived in, b) Her jean jacket, c) Her pajamas, d) A hat and my sunglasses, e) A towel wrapped around her entire body, f) A second towel wrapped around the first towel, and g) My body wrapped around the second towel. She then cried the whole time.

Marta could not have been happier, sandier, more wet, or more cold. But she was ecstatic.

After 15 minutes, we packed it all back up because by this point Marta, still in heaven, was shivering and her lips were blue, Berit was... Berit, and Trevor was a human popsicle.

In case you're wondering, the above photo is of Trevor carrying Berit to the car wrapped in her cocoon, because she refused to walk on the sand or in the wind.

The day was saved by Polish food at Legs Inn, a half-hour at the Central Elementary playground and a walk downtown.

Marta Speaks

Regular running commentary in our house, from Marta:

"Hi backpack. What'cha doin' backpack? Nothin' backpack." (She does this with anything and everything, from food to laundry.)

"(Where) Are you, Berit? Wove you, Berit."

"Hooos 'hat?" "Hi Adams."

Recent adorables:

"Marta dig, blue shovel. Daddy dig wit' da green shovel."

"Mama, sing a song. Sing da fishy song.... Stop! Sing da octopus song.... Stop! Sing da Baby Beluga song."

Me, leaving her room: "Goodnight, Marta. I love you."

Marta: "Night, Mama. Wove you."

"What's Your Name?" "Berit." Cue Blank Stare.

I remember driving near Detroit about 10 years ago, thinking about one of those topics that creep into the female mind every now and then: What I would name my children, someday. I saw a sign that said "Madison Heights" and I thought, "Hey, Madison would make a cool name! No one names their daughter Madison!"

Oh, hah. I'm glad I changed my mind, as now a number of little girls I know are named Madison. (And it is very, very adorable.) :)

When it came to naming our children, Trevor and I had a different plan than that of driving expressways looking for inspiration. And every so often, when we meet new people or when the idea that we named our kids something completely out-of-the-ordinary gets to someone, we are asked why we chose the names we did.

Lately there have been a lot of inquiries regarding this. I'm not sure if it's that I've caught up with people on a certain social networking site who knew me a zillion years ago or if there's just a new crop of people who wish, for ease of use, we had named our kids Emma and Jake. (Which are both very, very adorable.)

So here are the stories.

When I was pregnant for Berit, we knew we wanted something that was a very classic German or Scandinavian name. Our last name being so obviously German and such a mouthful, I wanted to pair it with a first name that made sense. Plus, having been raised in a Danish community and Trevor in a German/Czech family, we liked the names from those regions.

Trevor was stuck on "Berit" from the moment he found it. I wanted something a little more feminine and known. But soon we discovered that our baby had a heart condition; one that she might not survive, and I didn't care anymore. We needed to name our baby, to know her, to bond with her now, and I told Trevor he could pick anything at all, as long as her middle name was Hayes, which is my maiden name. He told me that Berit meant "happy girl," and even though the meanings behind names are really just a novelty at best to me, I liked it, because she was supposed to be struggling yet she was... happy. Active. When Trevor read books to my belly she kicked and squirmed and moved close to his face. In fact, that's how we got her to change out of a breech position. So Berit she was, and is, and she loves it.

I will admit that The Sound of Music is my very favorite movie of all time, but it's not the reason for our choosing the name "Marta" for our second daughter. When we found out we were pregnant, I printed out a list of German names, and I just loved it. Trevor was on the fence, but since he chose Berit I got to choose Marta, and it just seems so lovely to me. And if, upon meeting her, anyone ever says to Marta, "My, you're practically a lady," I will secretly love them for all time.

A funny thing about the names... Right when we were very, very first pregnant with Berit, we ran through the list of baby names that we liked in general. This was before the decision to do the German names. Anyway, our top two names for girls were Evan and Drew. If we went with Evan, we thought we'd call her Evie (eh-vee, not eee-veee). We didn't tell anyone about this, because we were so newly pregnant and at that point, we were certain we wouldn't reveal our name choices.

While I was pregnant for B, one of my dearest friends was preggers for her twin boys. When I asked her what she would name them, it was "Evan and Drew." ! That sent us back to the books, and led to our decision to do German names.

A year or so after that, Trevor's cousin and his wife had their first baby. A girl, who they named "Evie." And yes, they pronounce it eh-vee.

So what would we name our next? Well, if it's a boy, his name will be Peter, which has been our boy name since the start (though Trevor did really, really press for AXEL. Honest). But since we're not even close to being pregnant yet, we haven't discussed girl names.

So that's the story. I hope my girls like their names, and their reasons why.

I Scream, You Scream... And Then I Scream Again

It has already been a long week, starting with Berit having a cold and ending with Marta and a runny, ever-so-runny nose. We did ice cream twice.

Fourth of July Photos

Watching the parade with cousins.

With Annie at the beach in Harbor Springs.

A flag on the arm, so that she could see it. (On the cheek just didn't compute.)

Tom's Mom's cookies for brunch. (Following a breakfast of pancakes with whipped cream and preceding lunch of peanut butter and nutella sandwiches.)

A Fourth Worthy Of Fireworks, But Different

A few days ago I meant to mention that my blog has had its first birthday, but completely forgot because of the high activity levels of the two creatures for whom I write said blog. So I'm saying now, Happy Birthday to Blog! In all my spare time I'm putting together a BookSmart book of the blog, so my kids will have a written record of their lives, and just in case something technical happens to the blog and I don't have access to it in, say, the 30 years it'll take them to actually care about it and look it up.

So just now, when I sat down to indulge in a little Haagen-Dazs frozen yogurt (totally worth it, so very delicious), I decided to check back into my blog's history by reading the first few entries, coincidentally about the Fourth of July. Which is, you might realize, today.

We did a million fun, family centered things that involved sweets, multiple parades, beach romping and party-going. We skipped the very late, very loud fireworks and made sure to be at every other event in the hot, sticky weather.

Today was completely different. We took the girls to Harbor Springs in the morning, but just as we arrived Marta announced that she needed a nap, and do you remember, Mom, that I don't sleep in the stroller like I did last year? So she and I headed home while Trevor and Berit met up with the family and watched the parade. Afterward, Trevor brought a sleeping Berit home and I ran up to Lowe's for flowers, then Trevor and B left for a family dinner while I put Marta to bed. Later tonight, Trevor's taking Berit to see the fireworks -- her first that she'll ever remember, probably (why don't I know this?) her first ever, period. I wish I could see her face! I hate missing moments like these.

The pictures that were posted last year were of the girls playing, looking not unlike they do now. In fact, Marta is wearing the same clothes this summer that she did last summer, having grown up and not out, and having started out life a bit on the plump side. Maybe I would think she had grown more if her hair had come in, but it's still babyish, with little curls at the nape of her neck, as she becomes a kid, bit by bit.

And so this blog, a year later, is more about reflection and relaxation, rather than frenzied fun, and the startling -- very startling -- realization that my children have not changed very much in the past year. They can say a few more things, can jump a little higher, are taller. But I had thought they would be so different, and as I look around, very little really is. Life IS easier these days, and even I don't feel so frantic to be part of every last thing. Still missing moments with Berit, however, but now I'm able to create my own, as Marta is big enough to be without us. Am I happy about these non-changes? I think yes, very much. Because while they haven't suddenly shot up like weeds, and they haven't made life changes, they've gotten more fun, and I think I have, too.

Curb Appeal

Today we had great expectations, since Trevor took the day off and we had two adults and two kids. Ergo, we could conquer the world! Or, we could walk to the farmer's market, at the very least.

However, today being July 3, the weather was of course freezing and rainy. We bundled the girls into their strollers with coats and blankets and hats, and they still weren't warm. Walking up and down the hills of the neighborhoods by the market didn't even warm my body, let alone my nose or fingers.

But we tried. We even took the dog, who was so pleased to feel loved for once in three years. After the farmer's market, we quickly tried a park, then another, and ended up throwing in the stiff, frozen towel.

Berit and Trevor went to his parents' house, where his brother and family are staying for the weekend, and Marta and I went off in search of curb appeal for our house. Having the ability to only carry one large hanging arrangement in the back, one small hanging arrangement in the back, a big potted plant on Berit's car seat (washing to be done after this post) and a giant hanging arrangement ON my passenger seat (vacuuming to be done after the washing), I wasn't able to get the thousand other things our house needs. Now that we've decided to add about 40 cedars to the front, pavers and plantings, four more big potted plants and three flowering trees to our "landscaping," I'm jumpy and frantic to get it done. Not so much that I entirely want to forego Fourth celebrations tomorrow, but almost. We're also going to re-paint the steps, rails and rocking chairs, and I feel all of this will surely take several weeks to accomplish if I don't force it to be done this weekend.

When Trevor hung the giant hanging arrangement, the weight of it pulled the ceiling of our covered front porch down. As he, the arrangement and the "ceiling" fell, Trevor yelled, "Why'd you get one so heavy?!?" And I said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't consider that a big hanging plant would pull our house down." Which is what I think led Trevor to agree to all the improvements outside, to hopefully lure a buyer in and let us get on with building our house to Trevor's load-bearing specifications.

P.S.: The picture above is of Marta, after she took one of the dirt-filled trays holding a plant and dumped it over her head, resulting in dirt stuck to every teensy part of her body, including, somehow, in her diaper. She then ran around the yard wearing the tray as a hat shouting, "More dirt! Need more dirt!"