You've Made Life A Song, You've Made Me The Singer

Family, As Of Late

Weekend Sun

On Friday night I helped Berit's preschool set up at a Mom to Mom Sale, and while I was there I noticed a set of Barbies, horses, a pegasus, a baby polar bear and a wand of light. If you have girls aged 4-8, you might be rolling your eyes right now saying under your breath, "The Magic of the Pegasus," geeeeeesh. And you're right. Plus a bonus horse-drawn carriage and four Barbie fairies. So, of course, I bought it.

I set it up in the living room and on Saturday morning I heard Berit leave her room and go downstairs by herself. Then, "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

So the girls played with it for four hours and then we set off for the pool. Marta, a slippery fish who wants nothing to do with lifesaving efforts, took off in her too-big swimsuit with the floaty panels in the chest and back parts. She drank half the pool but she did it, all by herself. Berit clung to the edge and claimed she, too, was swimming solo in her floaty suit. We assured her that yes, she was, and were secretly thrilled that we have swimming lessons starting on Tuesday because 1) Marta needs to learn how to swim on her own NOW and 2) Someone needs to do something about Berit and her nervousness in the water, and it's clearly not working when we try.

At church this morning, Palm Sunday, the girls were relatively good as gold -- the only real problem being Marta's efforts to swim in the pew. We went out for pancakes afterwards and again marveled at how lovely their ages are right now -- well-behaved but still so silly and delighted.

As it was FIFTY DEGREES we put them in the stroller and walked the mile or so to the Walloon park, where they played in the wind off the lake until they were worn out and Trevor and I could get a serious calf workout on the hills leading home. We had French dip sandwiches and sweet potato fries that had been cooking all day and made our house smell amazing, and warm, homemade custard for dessert.

I then spent the next 10 minutes hugging them and telling them how cool they are, because seriously? Does it get any better than this?

Status Update

We've been ... busy! But of course, who isn't? Here's what we've been up to, in brief:

Physicals: We've all been thoroughly examined, tested, weighed, measured and declared healthy enough to bring a new baby into the family.

Home study: We're going in for our second meeting, individually this time, which is two of four in our home study, after which we will officially be linked with the orphanage in South Korea and our waiting game will begin. Not to worry! We won't get bored. We've got lots of required reading and classes to take online.

Well-child exam: Berit is 41 inches (75th percentile) and 35 pounds (50th percentile), and loves to twirl (that's totally medical, right?). She had a big-girl eye exam and hearing test and passed both just fine, with only the smallest beep on her right side being questionable. She continues to have a strong, healthy heart, and any SVT occurrence henceforth will not be fatal. I repeat: We are out of the scary, scary woods for good. Not that she's even had one since before she was born, but a mother can't help but be on guard when her child's heart is in question.

Fourth birthday and subsequent party: I do have photos and a story to go with it. I will post them this weekend. I hope.

Preschools: We have failed to do anything about a preschool for next year. Really, really I plan to go check out the afternoon preschool at our church. Next week, or maybe the week after.

House: First comes love, then comes the purchase agreement, then comes the closing in the baby carriage. We are still waiting for the purchase agreement. Still. Waiting.

Marta: I cut her hair. Just a little, and I saved a ringlet. It was getting pretty fuzzy, and after several consecutive nights of calling her "Larry from Dumb and Dumber," I decided to do something about it.

So, toss in a little family time and fish suppers on Friday nights and that's us in a nutshell. Help, help, we're trapped in a nutshell! Just kidding. We're fine in here.

Best

We had big plans for today. We told the kids over breakfast -- I even drew them a picture -- that we were headed to the WINTER SPORTS PARK! For SLEDDING!

We loaded the car up with the sleds, more layers of clothing and winter gear than a family of four could ever wear and the stroller. Because in addition to SLEDDING, we were going to walk around DOWNTOWN! (The mention of this word always sets the kids off singing "Down-town, dadadadada DOWN-TOWN...") We'd get hot chocolate and muffins and go to the book store!

When we made it downtown we realized that it was freezing. Below freezing. Like, 10 degrees. And when Berit screamed about walking from the car to the coffee shop, we chose to forego sledding and stick to the calories begging to be consumed in each of our favorite shops.

At Roast & Toast the girls got chocolate milk, pancakes, eggs, bacon and fruit and ate everything. We ordered coffees and egg wraps and saw people and laughed and shook hands while sitting down and let the kids hug other kids they knew. We went to McLean & Eakin and the girls ate their donuts and we poured ourselves more coffee, adding shots of the girls' chocolate milk to them for cream. We played and read then attempted a walk and when Berit nearly froze RIGHT TO THE STREET (ahem) we got in the car and made new plans. We went home, took the dog for a walk on the lake (our new backyard) and packed our SWIMSUITS! Because we were going to the POOL!

Gaylord has a great family pool, with a gradual entry and lots of sprayey and squirty things, and the girls have always loved it there. And while Berit did her typical dance and prance because she's still afraid of swimming (lessons start this spring), Marta literally dove head-first into the water every chance she got. She's what, two-and-a-half feet tall? Picture head entering water, repeatedly, face-first, Trevor and I pulling her out, cracking up with those wide eyes blinking out the chlorine. She was furious with us for holding her in the deep end, even if it meant she would sink. We stayed for an hour, only an hour, because when she realized there was a slide in the lap pool for big kids, as in teenagers only, over four feet tall, she wouldn't rest until she conquered it. As she wasn't allowed and would, you know, drown, we had to go.

Both girls slept on the way home, giving us plenty of time to drive by the house we're hoping to buy twice and for a stop at the Bob-In Again, where I picked up a quart of frozen custard and four chocolate-dipped waffle cones, two with sprinkles and two with nuts. When we got home the girls were so excited for their treats, and following the ice cream we all had quite a long stretch of sugar mania.

They played mermaids in the tub while Trevor said silly things like, "OH, you're a permaid? A merman?" and the girls giggled and corrected him.

The house is nearly clean and Trevor and I are about to sit down to play Trivial Pursuit. At one point I played Gemini's version of "Everybody Loves Saturday Night," and while its folksy, multi-lingual verses bopped Trevor and I caught eyes across princess puzzles and a bowl of tomatoes, grapes and blueberries the girls were munching on and agreed that yes, we were kind of like a movie today.

The Christmas Spirit

It's rest time at the Doublestein House, and the kids are too wired to sleep. We've had a really exciting two days, what with the mountains of snow, terrifying trips up and down the driveway, school and pick-up (wherein Marta has the Most Fun Of Her Entire Day, because in the tradition of little sisters wanting to be as cool as their big sisters, she thinks school is the epitome of WONDROUS ADVENTURE).

Yesterday after school Trevor took the girls sledding outside (result: Berit crying, SURPRISE!), and then we put on layers and layers and more layers to head downtown for Petoskey's annual Christmas Open House.

The open house is such a fun night. The streets are all closed off and Santa lights the giant Christmas tree, all the shops open up for wandering and goodies and wine or champagne punch, people bring their great burly dogs and the kids are all stiff from their layers, over-sugared and jumping face-first into the snowbanks. The Steel Drum Band plays and there are big pots of bean soup and chili and everyone's skating in the slush and ice down the street, and the fire trucks are lit up like Santa's sleigh.

We began our evening with pizza with our good friends at the Noggin Room, and the four girls all had one of those crazy fun times, where they ran and screamed (whoops) and giggled and felt as if the entire night was All About Them (cue running onto the restaurant's little stage and performing as loudly as possible for all diners made-up Christmas carols) (cue my leaping over chairs and tables to remove them) (cue the dads ordering another round of beer because why should we get them outside?). It was chilly but we were bundled and layered and the kids even took off their mittens to consume candy canes and cookies shaped like candy canes and drinks flavored like candy canes. They sang legitimate Christmas carols and Berit gave a performance of much bottom-shaking and bouncy-squatting during a stretch of upbeat Steel Drum Band songs, much to everyone's candy-fueled delight.

Marta continuously asked, "Where's my car?" in a sad, sleepy voice, and let me know about a thousand times that it was well past her bedtime by bonking her forehead against mine and pressing it there, breathing slowly as if she might just fall asleep that way.

Whenever she's overtired it leads to a restless night's sleep, and she was up from about 1:21 a.m. (you know, roughly) until around 6 a.m. Therefore she's not napping now, and has instead discovered that she can reach the light switch to the little hallway in her room from her crib. On, off, on, off, "THERE! I DID IT! I'M WAKING UP!"

I need nights like last night, I think, because so often I get caught up in the ridiculous snow and cold (which I could say sianara to forever and ever amen) and swear to move downstate or down-continent all winter long. But gathering as a community is so warming and festive, with friends around every corner with their children and dogs and hats and mittens and runny noses, that I feel I couldn't leave Petoskey if I tried.

Snapshots Of Their Development

Yesterday was one of those perfect days I'll want to refer to when my children have children and I can say, "Little kids are just sunshine and laughter all day. I never felt like it was work." (Lucky for them they have this blog and they'll be able to refer to all of my missteps and flailings with textbook accuracy.)

But still. Yesterday. Trevor let me sleep in until nearly 8 a.m., and after a very big rush (WE HAVE TO BE AT SCHOOL AT 8:45 WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?), Berit and I set off to school to spend the morning there together. One of the good things about her preschool is that every day two parents work in the school with the teacher, so the teacher has extra hands and eyes, and the kids really get to know the parents (and vice-versa). Lots of the parents in the class have become good friends of ours, so it's especially nice that both we and the kids have a common story.

Yesterday was one of my days to volunteer, and it was so good to be with Berit and her classmates for the morning. I'll admit that being "play parent" is a bit of a sleepy role. You are tasked with playing with the kids, which sounds like it could be adventurous but really the kids tend to play well and with each other, and you're left standing around like, really, couldn't I file something for you?

Standing around gave me the chance to really scope out the kids in Berit's class. You know, to compare Berit's skill level at, say, connecting train tracks, to that of the other kids' skill levels. I don't know about you, but at home we get a whole lot of "Ohmygoshshe'ssosmart" from my mom and sister, and I tend to think so, too. But I have to say that I got a reality check at preschool, because she really is acting her age. She's still 3 1/2 and she's in the "age 4" class, so most of the kids are either 4 or 4 1/2, and the difference between them is obvious. She's very well-behaved and joins in on everything and answers just as many questions and plays just as many games. But, for example, she and I were playing a board game with a 4-year-old boy, and when we rolled the dice he could look at it and say, "six." Berit had to count the dots on the dice before she knew it was six. Another student and I were building train tracks and the little girl was determined to figure out a way to make them all connect, and Berit couldn't last that long. Little things, but it was important for me to see because we've been wondering what to do with her next year. Do we send her to another year of preschool at age 4 1/2, or do we send her to developmental kindergarten? Most days we know she'd be happy going to school all week, and she truly does thrive in a preschool environment. That's why we considered DK -- five days of basically preschool with an emphasis on learning, which was appealing to us. But maybe she won't be ready -- probably she won't be ready. And I know the trend lately is to keep children back a year if you have the option, and I understand the reasoning behind that. We simply thought she might be able to handle it and, most importantly, we thought she might enjoy it more than a third year of preschool. We'll see.

Later that afternoon Carrie Novak came over -- to my girls' complete delight -- to take our family photos. You know how some people have a knack with children, even if they're just sitting on the floor? Well she does, and even Marta's sour mood disappeared the minute she walked in the door. Both girls performed for her, and she never even got the chance to get out a backdrop. It was all twirl, grin, leap, show off, change clothes, pose, jump, look adorable. We had a great time and when she left, Trevor and I looked at each other (relatively nicely dressed, considering how we usually look/feel at 4:30 p.m.) and at the girls (impossibly cute in their thick new sweaters and neat hair -- Marta's second day pulling off pigtails!) and decided to take the party to dinner at the Chinese restaurant in Boyne City.

The girls were fantastic, eating rice with giant soup spoons and munching on sweet-and-sour vegetables. They got a kick out of their fortunes which were giggly appropriate for them (Berit's: You should continue the conversation you're currently having. She takes forever to make a point. Marta: You would prosper in the medical field. We often say she'll need to be a doctor to stitch herself up after an adventure).

We drove home with Mary Poppins playing behind us, completely satisfied that we had had a Great Day.

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.

Smile! I SAID SMILE!

I have such fun, goofy girls who shine in the spotlight and melt hearts with their cuteness. You won't believe me when you get our Christmas card this year, though, because today was family picture day, and it. did. not. go. well.

Our friend Randy Goss came once again to do our photos. We love Randy. I worked with him at the newspaper back when I had a career that didn't involve changing diapers, and we were lucky to have him shoot our wedding as well. He did our friends' wedding, and he photographically chronicled my pregnancy when we were expecting Berit. He did our family pictures when Marta was born, and he came today to capture another year of growth for the Doublesteins. He's easy going, thank goodness, because last time he came the kiddos were tough cookies, and again, today, they weren't giving anybody a break. 

Berit had fallen asleep in the car and was finishing a nap when Randy arrived. Marta had recently woken up and was in good spirits, but that wasn't surprising, because she's typically a happy girl. Really. I know when you see the pictures you'll come back to this post and comment, "I don't believe you!" but honestly, she's a smile a second most days.

After Randy had gotten set up, Berit came downstairs and was happy to see "Mr. Goss," who she had been expecting with excitement all day, so that she could "laugh and smile and dance" while he took pictures. Her words. I guess by laugh, smile and dance, she really meant whine, turn around and run away. Anyway, we got the girls dressed in their Christmas dresses: black velvet tiered dresses from Hanna Andersson, with bloomers for M and cute patterned tights for B. Black mary janes all around. Berit's hair was doing a funny unruly thing that rarely happens, and her dress was too big in the neck, so I kept having to jump in to pull it down in the back. Marta immediately took off her socks and shoes that had been so carefully picked out and tucked away for safekeeping for weeks (she refuses to keep either on for any length of time). Her hair bow came off the moment it went on. 

I had set out silver jingle bells for the girls to play with so they didn't get bored, and they ended up: not sharing them and dangling several at a time in front of her face while Randy tried to take her picture (B), and throwing them across the room, repeatedly (M). 

We took as many pictures as we could but Marta simply wouldn't break a smile. I did all sorts of acrobatics, crazy voices and ridiculous faces, but still, whiney and weepy. Berit kept turning her back and creeping away, or mauling her sister to get attention. Hell-o! We've hired a photographer to showcase your every move! Attention granted, please do something cute!

I decided to change the girls into their adorable, old school Christmas sweaters that my mom paid an arm and a leg for so they could be captured in "casual attire" (because we let our children run around willy nilly in expensive Christmas sweaters, right?). Berit was furious that she couldn't wear her mary janes and her barrette was all wrong in her messy hair. Marta's sweater went over her wiggly body even though she continuously demanded to have it removed. I had been plying her with snacks (puffs) to keep her going and as soon as the creamy white sweater was secured on her body she stopped wiggling, looked me in the eye and spit out a liquefied puff -- strawberry flavor -- onto the front of her outfit. Now, I don't have a whole lot of Christmas sweaters just laying around our house (despite what our Christmas card may lead you to believe), so she ended up wearing a random shirt and pants that might look fall-ish, certainly not Christmas-y. 

The second round of shooting went worse. I spent the majority of the time promising Randy that my children were really very sweet and lovely. Hah. I was also the picture of a stage mother, swearing aloud when things went sour, sweating, running up and down the stairs, flinging clothes options around, brushing hair and telling kids to "deal with it." Not a good show of my motherly instincts, but NO ONE ELSE WAS HELPING TO MAKE THE KIDS HAPPY OR DRESSED. That's as much as I'll say about that. But do note it, please. 

Randy wrapped up the shoot as I sat my now happy, silly kids in their chairs for dinner. Of course. Now I'm eager as can be to see what he captured, and I don't think I'll be able to wait until Thanksgiving to get the pictures back. So I can pick one, put it on a Christmas card and send it to you, and try to get you to believe that my children are the picture of Christmas fun, all year round. Please pretend to believe me.

Sugar + Dough = Playhouse Disney Live

Months and months ago I noticed an ad for Playhouse Disney Live. That's right, I let my daughter watch morning TV, and she's so into it that I figured she'd love to see her favorite characters in person. I knew she would. I knew I would love taking her. So I shelled out $90 for three second-row-center tix to a production in Saginaw, 2 1/2 hours away. I knew it'd be worth it. 

I have these memories of going to Sesame Street Live with my family when I was little. They're in the category marked "Perfect Memories of Childhood." They involve anticipation, cheap, blinky souvenirs and popcorn, cotton candy and soda. I have been waiting more than 2 1/2 years to create such a memory with my own children (I've made other good memories I hope -- I just mean this one was different and special). I - was - stoked.

And so was Berit, when I told her about it. Aha! Just the reaction I was hoping for. She was ready for it developmentally... finally! The awe was just around the corner! 

Nevermind that Marta's been miserable all week. On Tuesday, the doctor said it was a virus that was making her super cranky, sleepless and not hungry. I swore it was an ear infection combined with her new (first!) tooth popping through, but no infections were found. No sniffles, no coughs, just a mysterious virus that makes babies feverish and fussy. How lovely.

On Thursday her fever broke, and I looked ahead to brighter days. Friday rolled around -- the day of the event -- and we dropped the dog with a friend, loaded the car with snacks, just-in-case stuff and pjs for the ride home. I even took a carsick medication so I could entertain kids from the front seat, turned around, or, if the perfect day turned into the perfect drive, READ for the two-and-a-half-hour trip there and home. (Hello, gas prices $$$) 

Marta was not excited for this day. Still miserable, she shrieked the whole way there. We arrived an hour-and-a-half early, and walked around the small waiting area trying to entertain a very-excited B and a cranky baby. I spent $40 on two blinky souvenirs that the girls really loved, and I didn't care too much that Marta was fussy, because I was way too excited to see the look on Berit's face during the show. 

The time to enter came. Our seats were perfect. We bought cotton candy ($), roasted almonds ($), yogurt pretzels ($) and chocolate-covered raisins ($). Berit was in sugar heaven, let me tell you, and I didn't even try to stop her. Marta, on the other hand, was squirmy and unhappy. "As soon as the show starts, she'll be fine," I thought. We were front and center -- she'd be mesmerized by the action and the lights. Trev and I took turns walking her around the arena. With each lap, she got more fussy, more tired, more uncomfortable. 

But the show started, and Berit's face! She was so happy! Mickey was onstage, and there was singing and interaction and dancing and oh, what promise this show held for her, for me. But Marta couldn't have been less happy, and she was letting everyone around us know about it. I had no choice but to take her somewhere less crowded (though I did try to nurse her several times right in our front-and-center seat, so that even Mickey could see my belly and possibly my breasts as Marta refused them). I moved to the last row -- no dice. I moved to the bathroom, and did something I promised my sister long ago I'd never do -- I sat on a public toilet and nursed her. Still no happiness. I proceeded to march around and around the arena through the entire show with my fussy baby winding circles around and around in my arms, trying to get comfortable and finding it impossible. Trevor says Berit loved the show, and that as soon as it was over, said, "I want more," quietly, matter-of-factly, in true Berit fashion. I know it sounds ridiculous -- I have a happy, healthy family who can do fun things together -- but I was really sad that I didn't get to watch the show with my kiddo. 

On our way home Marta crashed. When she woke up nearly in pieces she was so upset, we stopped for dinner ($) -- which Trevor and Berit ate while I hung out in the car with Marta. She then proceeded to shriek the whole way home, and Berit had an anticipated and accepted sugar meltdown. 

During the night, Marta would only sleep if I was holding her, standing up. So you can guess how much sleep we both got. This morning I took her to the doctor's office (again. $), sure her virus had somehow led to an ear infection. When we unzipped her pjs to take her temp, we noticed that her whole body had a rash on it. And to be honest, I was relieved, because there was now physical evidence that something bad was happening with my baby, and the doctor would see it, tell me what it was and what he would do to make her better.

But he said everything was fine -- the rash was simply an indication that what she had was a virus, that she probably had a headache and body aches, and to take her home, give her some Tylenol and wait, because it'd start clearing up, he guessed, by Monday.

And by the way, keep her away from other kids (sorry, Playhouse Disney Live crowd), and were we taking our kids downtown for the downtown trick-or-treating starting in five minutes and lasting for the next hour-and-a-half? 

So Trevor took Berit dressed in her dragon costume trick-or-treating, without Marta and me, and he said she "had a blast." And I missed it.

And I know this post sounds like a lot of whining on my part. I think these past few days were a shining example of Mom sacrifice, like when you were a kid and you stayed in your jammas all Christmas Day playing with your new stuff while your mom, who had purchased, wrapped, set out and videotaped your enjoyment of said stuff cooked dinner for a dozen people and cleaned up your Christmas mess. And Dad took a nap. (Not saying for a second that Trevor hasn't been my hero through all of this -- at 3 a.m. last night he took Marta and read her books for a half-hour so I could get a little shut-eye. But you understand.)

And I don't mean to sound like "Oh, moms have to sacrifice so much just so that their kids have a lovely life." Even if that were the case, I'm happy to do so. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just wanted to see Berit happy and enjoy these things, because they're brand spanking new to her, and I wanted to see the first time she realized them, the first time they entered her consciousness. 

Side note: When I asked Trevor if he had taken any pictures of Playhouse Disney Live, he said he had. I was so excited to look at them... but they were all of Mickey Mouse.