The Toy Fairy

6:28 a.m.: "There's a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall and the bells in the stee-bo too. And up in the nursery an absurd little bird, is popping out to say cuck-oo CUCK-OO!" (This goes on until the entire song is over, and she begins again.)

6:34 a.m.: In tones of fear and possible pain: "MOMMY!" I rush upstairs and Berit says, trembling, "Mom-sob-my, last sob night I forgot sob to clean the toys and sob the Toy Fairy came and SOB took them all AWAY!"

So... the Toy Fairy. I have left her out of the blog because after the whole bathtub incident I didn't need another notch in my trunk of bad parenting. However, as I'm now kind of convinced that the girls will be having Toy Fairy conversations with their husbands someday (as in, "I truly feared this horrible creature and isn't it just like my MOTHER to make her up just to scare me??"), I'd like to explain myself.

The Toy Fairy is much like the Tooth Fairy, except she's evil and mean and scary and instead of leaving money for your hard-won baby teeth, she takes your toys away.

Ahem.

I don't remember inventing the Toy Fairy. Maybe Trevor did. Yes! He must have! He doesn't read the blog, let's blame it on him. But to be a little fair, I have a horrible memory, so I probably could have done it in a frantic moment and have shoved it deep into the bottomless file in my brain marked: "Necessary Parenting Strategies To Ensure Survival And/Or Sanity."

Anyway, the basic idea of the Toy Fairy is that she comes at night to take your toys if you haven't cleaned them up before bed. And since bedtime is meltdown time for Berit, but we also insist on our children's help in cleaning up their toys, at times scare tactics are needed. Enter the Toy Fairy.

When children leave their toys out overnight, the Toy Fairy sees that they don't really appreciate what they have and swoops in to shove them in her big toy bag and deliver them to children who will take care of them.

I have often thought about attaching a guilt factor here as well, like, "There are children who don't have ANY toys and you have so many even I can't count that high, so maybe you should feel badly for making such a mess with the toys you don't even care enough about to clean." But that's probably going too far.

I would have probably forgotten about the Toy Fairy altogether after her first use, except Berit clung to the idea instantly and now asks about her when it's time to clean up before bed and before vacuuming. (When it's vacuuming time she screams and cries in terror that the toys aren't sufficiently cleaned when they're just up on the shelves and couch.)

So I indulge a bit in the Toy Fairy, and now she's having nightmares about her. I wonder if she's wearing Berit's dress-up clothes in the dreams? Is she riding in on Berit's toy ponies? Maybe in the dollhouse minivan? Does she use Berit's fairy wands, and ride the tiny carousel when Berit's sleeping, hoping that tomorrow night Berit forgets to put it away and she can claim it for herself?

You see, I can take this places. It might be wrong, but my living room is clean.

Getaway

Trevor and I left yesterday morning (was it only yesterday?) as early as we dared for Mackinac Island. My sister and brother-in-law came to be with the girls, as we had a mini vacation with lots of kid-free plans.

We swapped lives for the night, which was agreeable to all, for the most part (I'll get to that later). Trevor and I arrived on the island and, after checking into our hotel (quaint and lovely with a four-poster canopied bed and a view of the bridge), took off for an afternoon of biking. He being a trail rider and my being a road rider, we compromised and first flew around the island, dodging tourists and horse poop. We then rode up into the middle of the island, up, up, up to the very top and around to the various sights. Since the island had recently seen rain, we rode on streets and trails that were horse poop soup, and, I regret to write, were covered in the sludge from the tops of our heads ("Your hair looks like leopard print!") to our toes. We had a small lunch, drinks, coffee, showers and went to a fantastic 5:30 church service that was fun, fast and whole. Every parish should follow suit. It was one of our favorite parts of our trip.

We had a great dinner and drinks, a SANDERS CREAM PUFF (Sanders is new on the island this year, and truly, as we were walking down the street I was saying to Trevor, "I was talking to my second-cousin yesterday on Facebook about Sanders and how it's sad that I'll probably never have another cream puff," and he said, "Hey look, there's a Sanders.") and then sat in our rocking chairs outside our hotel and had a beer. Then, we went to bed. Kind of lame, but hey, we got 10 hours of sleep and when was the last time that happened? Four years ago?

In the morning we had a great breakfast, tons of coffee and decided to go for a walk before we hit the bikes again. We started talking and took a few trails that were more "interesting" than "practical," and ended up on a nearly 3-hour walk, after which the ice cream and fudge we then ate were completely justified. We parked ourselves in a booth in Horns Bar, drank beer and played cards for an hour before ordering lunch. We left the island a little wistfully, relatively buzzed from both sugar and beer, and completely tired. We were also looking forward to getting our arms around our girls, because in truth we really did miss them.

They were elated and naughty when they saw us, and pleased with the Elmo tees we brought not because they needed a Mackinac souvenir (we live close enough that going there doesn't require gifts every time), but because we thought they'd really dig the fashion and we were right.

Andrea and Nick were... ready for us to be home, I think. While they love our children nearly as much as we do, they were surprised at how long the days pass while entertaining two under four. I admit that in hearing that I was a tiny bit pleased to know it's not just me who watches the clock each day, and also a tiny bit nervous that they'd assume caring for our kids might be a reflection on wanting kids of their own. "It's different when they're you're own!" we told them. They agreed, but I remember when Trevor and I watched a neighbor's children overnight before we had our own, and we may have put having kids off a bit longer than we had originally planned afterward.

We're already planning our anniversary trip. It was great to get away for the night, bike and walk and eat and drink without sharing, stopping, waiting, bargaining or consoling, and we feel refreshed to get on with it all tomorrow. The girls had a wonderful time painting, swinging, dancing, dressing up, making Jell-o and climbing up Uncle Nick's body like a tower. A vacation for all (maybe not Nick) and a fun week to look forward to. We are a lucky lot.

Dora: Our Kind of Wisewoman

There was nothing noteworthy about today, but for some reason it struck me all throughout that I was completely happy with each moment.

I don't know if it was my meeting with our Realtor this morning to drop the price of our house below that which we paid for it. During the meeting I realized that if we didn't try very hard to sell our house this summer and fall, we might become stuck here when our lives changed in such a way to make serious progression a possibility (in other words, to build our dream home). Because Michigan's economy is depressing, and Detroit's struggles hit Northern Michigan -- many a wealthy Detroiter's summer home or getaway -- hard. And because the middle class in Northern Michigan is losing -- jobs and homes, namely. And because there are more than ONE HUNDRED HOUSES FOR SALE that are in our price range.

And after all of that negativity, after all of that shredding of the dollar signs we once saw when we purchased the house as an "investment," I just gave up and looked straight at my children. I was tired of feeling encumbered by the house, the market, the lack of homes to build and the weight of general housekeeping. I realized I had been looking at my children lately as tolerable, instead of enjoyable. And oh my gosh, they are like two little jumping beans of joy, and so today I just put out as much love as I could and tried to have twice the patience for slow-moving preschoolers and insistent toddlers. I'm not saying it worked all the time, but at least I was a better mom today than I was yesterday.

I think if I sat here awhile longer I could think of a better, more appropriate, less obvious way of saying that they are practically perfect in every way (to me), but it's late and there's still the kitchen to be cleaned. Today I received in the mail a book I made of my first year of blogging. It's not fancy; it's a journal in professional clothes. I wanted it for my girls, because I know I would love to read something similar of my mother's life when her children were small. It's only a softcover collection of most of my posts without pictures, but for its cover I put a collection of odd photos on it that may never end up in formal scrapbooks. Berit baking cupcakes, Marta wandering, a snow day that didn't end in frozen tears. On the back, under a smaller arrangement of photos, I wrote the quote "The happiest thing about being happy is being happy with you." I took this from one Dora the Explorer, from a song that gets lodged in my brain every other day and refuses to leave.

And today, with the spirit of simple joy I was feeling for my blessings of having two healthy daughters and having the opportunity to be with them every day, and offer them a good home, a good life, a good family, the book came in all of its imperfect accounting of their days and I could not have been more complete in my happiness with them. Because there is Just. Nothing. Better.

Need. Coffee.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Marta has started throwing tantrums, and I don't mean those occasional fits she used to throw that I called "tantrums" because I believed she was so sweet that those were the extent of her anger.

These tantrums tend to come about when she's gotten a poor night of sleep, and begin at roughly 5:41 a.m. They are increased when she watches too much TV. They are so intense with the screaming that they wake Berit up, which we can't even do with the vacuum right outside her room.

*** (This space reserved for those of you who may have secretly disliked my bragging about her 18-month check-up to comment out-loud, snicker or raise your eyebrows, then pat your non-tantrum-throwing child on the head.) ***

Pond Hill Farm

Seconds before grabbing his tail.

Of course, there was much swinging to be done.

"Here's a box of food for you to give the goat, so he'll rub his tongue and nose all over your baby hands! Who wants popcorn?"

Marta could not stay away from these baby chickens. "PEEP! PEEP!"

She kept SCREAMING with laughter while watching the piglets.

You Take The Good You Take The Bad

Today Berit and I had a really awful ... confrontation. (Does the word "fight" apply with a 3-year-old that you're screaming with? What is the PC term here?)

She refused to do something... another possibly inappropriate thing to write on the Internet? Well, she refused to wipe after going pee-pee; I waited for her to do it, she continued to refuse, I "talked" with her about it, she refused some more, I called her a little baby (shame, guilt, terrible, I know), she whined and cried because she didn't "feel" like it and wanted me to do it for her, and eventually I picked her up, carried her to my room (Marta was asleep a few feet away from the bathroom) and forcibly put her down on the floor and yelled, "YOU CAN'T CRY ABOUT EVERY LITTLE THING! YOU ARE A BIG GIRL! STOP ACTING LIKE A BABY!"

Ahem. (This space reserved for the relatives who think I am a tyrant and need to yell out to their husbands that I am indeed a tyrant and here's proof.)

This has been building up, because for the past two weeks she's screamed, cried and whined through her entire bath each night simply because she doesn't want to take one. She has also stopped eating dinner yet begged for dessert (no) and starts crying in lieu of her typical reasoning for most disagreements or generally unpleasant rules (like no standing on the couch arm). I don't know what's going on, but we've been doing our best to reason and explain for two weeks and today I was done.

After my screaming and yelling (in front of an open window, thankyouverymuch), I walked out and closed the door, held the knob while she banged and pulled on it and screamed her voice hoarse, counted to 20 and went back in. She then tried to beat me up. I stood and waited as she pummeled me until she was exhausted. I know this probably isn't a good parenting tactic but at the time I thought, I just screamed at her, guilted her and roughly picked her up, hauled her over and tossed her down and it made me feel a little better, so this is probably helping her, and we were both wrong and we'll deal with it after it's over. Which is what we did, and had a really good conversation about how she wants to do big girl things but can't if she's going to act like a baby, and devised a method for when she gets frustrated and a discipline plan if she breaks the rules, and she actually agreed to it all. We then cuddled on the couch and...

watched The Sound of Music and she LOVED IT and I cried and had goosebumps the entire time because she loved it! We had to watch parts over and over again which was fabulous for me because it is my very best movie of all time, and then we went out and bought the CD which she also loves. So, in the final tally, I think today may have been a great day.

We also said goodbye to our friends the Marsmans this late morning, after they came for an overnight stay and we had such a fun time. Teri, "the mom" Marsman, was a friend of mine from high school and we reconnected over, you guessed it, Facebook, and we had a complete blast catching up all night long. Our kids, ages 6, 4, 3 and 1 in total, had a great time together, despite the frigid temps (high 50s! What?).

I rented Pride and Prejudice to watch tonight but I think I may have to hit the hay early. I. Am. Exhausted. I'll bet Berit is, too.

Think Local, Assume Global, Return to Local

I grew up in a big Meijer community. That's where we went when, in high school, we had nothing else to do; where we bought everything we could sit on, eat, look at and play with; where we bought our gas and flowers.

My hometown of Greenville was also the birthplace of Meijer, so one drive down Main Street alerts visitors that Fred Meijer has Invested In The Community with sculpture, events and sponsorships. I happen to know that the Meijer family has given more than most people think to my hometown, as my mom is the executive director for the hospital's foundation and our family counts the Meijers among their friends.

I don't write these things to gab about my hometown or my family's connections. I write them to assure you that I love Meijer and all of its deals, contributions and, really, cute clothes.

I also love Target, but have no personal connections to the chain. I love it solely for acquisitional purposes.

Anyway, yesterday I had a list of about 300 things I needed to get, all at different stores, for our busy next few days. I took Marta and as I set out, I realized I could probably find everything I needed at one store if I drove the half-hour to Gaylord to go to their Meijer (Petoskey's Meijer is scheduled to be done in 2o10). I calculated it would take me the same amount of time to drive there, shop at one store and drive home as it would to drive to all the different places in Petoskey and shop at each one.

And I did find everything I needed. But it was different. I don't know if I'm changing or if the store was really and truly too big and too confusing, if there were too many people to distract me or if it had been winter I would have actually appreciated the one-stop shopping. I suspect it has something to do with the dairy counter which was NOT IN THE FOOD SECTION but in the middle of bedding, electronics and toys. When I asked a manager about this he said, "Now you have to walk through all those departments to get to dairy and you might want to buy things you didn't know you needed." Seriously, he said this.

And I did find organics, but I don't know the farms the fruits and vegetables come from, and I had to wait so long at the deli that I gave up and bought packaged meats and cheeses.

When I went to pay I held my breath because I bought a lot of things, but it wasn't too bad and I feel like if I had bought all of those things locally my bill might have been more. But how much more? 5 percent? 10 percent? I think it may have been worth it.

We like walking from store to store in our downtown. The clerks and grocers know my kids by name. I can always get help easily and I don't ever feel like I'm being tricked into buying unnecessary bedding.

I do wish we had a bakery, a butcher and a drug store downtown. Then I'd never have to leave my little mecca of shopping and park enjoyment. But I think that even my little box stores like Glen's and Oleson's outperform Meijer, deals included.

Realizing this makes me feel a little sad, relatively speaking, but also a bit more respectable in my small-town life, because I always felt like I was the only one in Petoskey who wished she were in Grand Rapids when she shopped.