Daddy Does Double Duty

Notes

The other day as I was getting everybody ready for school I told Sawyer it was time to go. He was playing with a puzzle and said: 'I need two more minutes,' in the most matter-of-fact, adult tone you can imagine. Stifling a laugh, I set the oven clock timer for exactly two minutes and when it went off he hopped up, put his puzzle away and was ready to go to school. I just looked at him and thought: Who's kid is this?

building blocks

Leave it to an engineer to build the first wooden block building ever to qualify for a feature story in Architectural Digest.


Too bad it didn't even make it through the photo shoot.


After the initial damage was done, the Monster Trucks finished it off. That's all the fun of building with blocks after all.

Reality strikes

Sometimes, walking through the quiet house picking up toys or turning out lights after the children are gone to sleep, or when I'm racing around grabbing lunch boxes for school, or when I'm closing the door behind the babysitter as she leaves for the night, I have these ethereal moments where I realize that I'm a grown up. I'm responsible for children and a dog and a house. I have furniture! And kleenex in the pockets of all my jackets. (I remember that about all my mother's jackets growing up. Whenever I put one on and stuck my hand inside there would be a wadded up ball of tattered smelly tissue that she swore was clean as she unraveled it for our runny noses.) I guess I don't feel very grown up inside. I still feel like I'm 25, finding my way in the world. Maybe with Scott not around as often I am more keenly aware of my responsibility. I assume when I'm 80 and my body's failing me and my kids are grown up themselves, I'll still feel like I'm 35 and that my kids are still the babies reaching for me to hug, kiss their boo boos an wipe their runny noses with wadded up tissue resurrected from the depths of my pockets.

Good God!

My Godmother Elinor gave Arden this book "Good Dog Carl" for her birthday. Of course, Sawyer wanted to read it first. It's the story of a baby who is cared for by the family's Rotweiler while his mother goes out to run errands. As soon as the mom – with her blue dress, practical shoes and red gloves – heads out the door, Carl helps the baby out of the crib and they set out on a series of adventures around the house, from jumping on the bed to making lunch on the kitchen floor. When we got to this photo, Sawyer was transfixed:


It's very disturbing, actually. The whole premise of the book. And the dog who seems apt to kill the baby on several occasions:




I had to check and found out it was published in 1986 – perhaps a time when society didn't shun leaving the children at home in bed while the parents went out grocery shopping. We were reading the Cat in the Hat the other night — another instance when the mom not only leaves the children home alone but they let a stranger into the house.

I tease my mom now and then about some of the things they used to do - like letting us kids ride up front in the station wagon without seat belts - although she swears my memory is skewed. It's not that our childhood was so awful or that we were neglected and abused. It was just considered more acceptable (and not illegal) to let an eight year old stay home alone for an hour. Junk food wasn't going to make us all fat. And, tummy sleeping, cold medicine and peanut butter weren't the kiss of death.

When my kids are grown, they'll laugh at me for letting them run around the house without their pants on, sending them to preschool everyday, and microwaving their milk in non-BPA free bottles!

Enjoying a winter thaw

Glimpse

Driving down the road the other day, I caught a reflection in my rear view mirror. Sawyer and Arden each had their arms stretch out across the car, and they were quietly holding hands.

As freaked out as I was when I found out I was pregnant again, I stand here now and say this: No regrets.

(We will revisit this in another year when they are both screaming "Mommy! He pushed me! She hit me first!")