State of the union

So we are back online having bit the bullet and signed up for high speed internet with *insert mass communications conglomerate here. My Canon Digital Rebel EOS camera is temporarily working again, some little piece of the mirror had come loose, although now the auto focus doesn't work. The broken coffee maker has been replaced with a french press after one interim failed attempt to find a cheap electric drip to replace it — weak, luke warm coffee is just not my thing. But, as we were wiping a brow over the end of Electronics Meltdown 2010, the washing machine stopped spinning. The fun never ends. So, since I'm not folding laundry tonight, I figure it's about time for a state of the union kid update.

Arden, at 26 months, is a chatterbox. She pretty easy to understand, speaks complete sentences, counts to 10, sings her ABCs and even recognizes some letters and colors. She's willful, independent, stubborn and fully in the throws of the terrible twos. Me! Me do it! She wants so badly to put her own shoes on (and she is totally Sarah Jessica Parker about her shoes). She insists on zipping up her own pajamas and wants to go to the potty by herself, but it takes 20 minutes of letting her struggle before she'll willingly let somebody else help her. Getting her out the door in the morning takes the patience of desert tortoise (at least those things have 300 years to live). She's almost completely potty trained and just spent her first week sleeping through the night without diapers. We bought her these hideous Gerber plastic covered training pants (boy patterns was all they had left) that come up to her neck and give her some serious junk in the trunk. So far so good, as long as we remember to wake her up once during the night. I look at her sometimes and wonder where the heck she came from. She has my copper brown eye color, but the blond hair and her facial structure must come from Scott's family. She's gotten to the point now where she enjoys going off to play with Sawyer for hours on end. Barring her proclivity for danger (she likes to climb things and last week pulled the entire wardrobe down on herself), she's a typical younger sister — always crying about something Sawyer is doing. And she's super sensitive about getting in trouble.

I was going to post a video of her refusing to eat dinner, but her stubborn streak lasted so long that even blogger declined to upload it. So, you'll have to just imagine her lippy pout as she was determined to starve and watch this instead:



Sawyer, at 3.5, has finally gotten to the little slave stage — the reason we had children after all — because we needed somebody who could open the door and let the dog out or fill up Arden's cup with water while we watch from the couch. We have finally arrived people. He's done great with the skiing this winter and can't wait to start biking this summer. He's ready for a real bike now. He counts to 10 in Spanish and French, but gets them a little confused sometimes, throwing in the occasional Chinese number along the way. (Love that little red school). Sawyer's Baby Center update last week that said this is the age where kids start paying attention to tone. And it couldn't have been more right on. That same afternoon in the car he was telling me about his day and he was all: we ate luuuunch, and we went outsiiiide, and then we took a naaaap with the same teacher-like inflection on the last syllable of each phrase. He's not much of an artist but is huge into his imagination games and dramatic play. And his teacher said he's just starting to take and interest in the crafts projects they do, primarily because all his best buddies, all the, um — *insert forced throat clearing here — girls are big into arts and crafts. But scissors are still not his favorite exercise. My poor little lefty.



All in all, Babydom is slipping away from my life. Sippy cups and pull-ups are being phased out. My kids ski and bike and have private conversations in the forts they build. I wonder, sometimes, how we got here already. I am so glad I got to experience having little tiny babies. It changed me (and my boobs) forever. But, I'm really glad to have slightly older kids now, and I can't wait to delve into the 3s and 4s.