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As parents we do our best to shield and protect our kids. We remind them, "Be Careful." We tuck away chemicals, cleaners, medicines, razors and the like. As parents of siblings we are used to the shriek of a cry because a toy was snatched, hair was pulled, a chubby arm bitten. As I was nonchalantly folding laundry this morning Keira walked in to rifle through the pile looking for her favorite yellow skirt. She found it, happy, she went over to the dresser to retrieve socks (she likes to wear mismatched socks and insists upon it-on even the warmest of days). And there is was. That shriek and cry I am so used to.

But no other sisters were around. I didn't even put down the small pajama pants of Kennedy's I was folding and went to her. Her hand cupped over her eye I pulled it back and reeled internally. "Oh shit." I thought as salty tears mixed with the blood running from her eye down her cheek. I scooped her up and with a cold towel I pressed against her face. Picking up my BlackBerry I called her doctors office. It looked like it would need a single stitch or two but I really didn't want to haul everyone to the E.R. I explained this all to the receptionist who said, "Well, you're in luck, we have a 9:50 available."

I pulled the phone away to look at the time. 9:40. We are at least a fifteen minute drive, I am holding one bleeding child while two others dance around me still in their pajamas and my nanny was due to arrive at 10:00. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes." I told the receptionist. Exiting out of that call I pressed the K button for our nanny. "How quickly can you get here?" I asked.

"What happened sweetie?" The nurse asked Keira pulling away the ice pack she had held to her face the whole ride to the doctors office.

"I bonked."

"On what?"

"Kennedy's dresser." That's where I keep all the kids socks. Keira had opened the drawer, grabbed out one navy sock and one pale pink sock. She went to close it and it stuck, being a finicky antique. She gave up on closing the drawer and bent down to put her socks on-bashing her poor little face in the process.

The doctor came in and asked the same questions while cleaning out her cut. "There are three options for this sort of wound." He said speaking to me. "Ideally I'd like to glue it, but I can't so close to the eye. Our other options are we could stitch it or see how she does today with just a steri stip. If it stays on and doesn't bleed too much it will heal just fine. If not, you'll have to come back."

"Okay, let's do that."



And she got a sparkly pencil for being a good patient.

being me

Because she's cute and to prove I'm not some sort of domestic freak (see the dirty plate in the foreground and the heap of swim gear from our morning lessons by the door?) here is Kennedy doing her best impression of me: huge sunglasses + BlackBerry. Also notice she is on our island countertop? The girl is an out of control climber.

imagine your surrounded by surrounded by tiny little seahorses

On Sunday we drove to Deception Pass and took a picnic lunch and hiked around a bit. I, of course, brought the camera and while none of my photos of the Pass do it justice I did manage some good shots of the girls, specifically Keira. The light was amazing and she was smiling and being goofy. A pretty rare event for her. Don't get me wrong she's a happy kid. In a quite sullen sort of way, that is, unless she is screaming at someone or biting them. On second thought, she's happy like a middle child which is rare when you are constantly vying for attention or just trying to stay out of the damn way...

Where was I? Oh yeah, happy and goofy and great lighting and hair blowing in the surf which is cool except, well... maybe they are a little too glamour shots. Let me just say, The Center Photo. When my husband saw it he said, "She looks like a nail technician. And her name should be Cheryl Lee."

vintage mouse dress

My mother gave this to me. It was mine circa 1982. On this sunny warm day 26 years later my youngest daughter is wearing it. And it means the world to me. I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend!

goon squad

As promised the pink Barbie goggles were purchased. They were highly coveted and I said to Nyla when she could swim I would get her goggles. Last week all her swim instructions clicked she was feeling really confident in the shallow end and said she was going to go jump off the diving board.

"Mommy, come with me but DON"T catch me."

I agreed. Off the board she went. She sunk down and just when a hypervigilant mother's fear begins up she surfaces blowing water out of her nose and sputtering. It wasn't pretty but she began to kick and splash her way back to the shallow end all on her own. Nyla can swim!

star

I didn't cry. I was far too busy laughing. Nyla did so well! She was one of the only kids who managed to remember most of the dance moves. Keira was right next to her (although the hand holding chain walking out on stage broke and never recovered so they were literally standing five feet apart). But she was able to follow big sister and do most of the moves a step behind.

The lights dimmed and the kids wandered off stage but Nyla scooted toward to center stage and spread her arms as wide as they would go and took a power bow. There she stood, alone on stage in the dark bowed down to applause. I thought they were going to have to drag her off stage but she finally stood up and smiled and ran off. It was a night I will never forget. She beamed and Daddy gave them both flowers. I was proud not because she remembered her steps and danced well but because her happiness that night was contagious.





P.S. Thank you all for the hair advice. In the end we did the old-fashioned rag curls because those were most similar to the soft spikes that Sasha suggested and they worked like a charm.

recital

We have our fist big show tomorrow! The girlies had dress rehearsal today and for some reason a lot of my shots were blurry... probably due to shooting while consequently juggling a nap and lunch deprived Kennedy (rehearsal was at 12:30). But here is one of Keira for you in all her glory-processed a couple different ways.


Straight out the camera


Lomo inspired


Me, still lovin' on vintage finishes.

week end wrap

We are lucky enough to have two Farmers Markets in town. A very busy Saturday morning one and a smaller low key one on Wednesday afternoons. I had never been to the Wednesday Market-it always slips my mind to go and this week I made a point of it. It was so enjoyable. Instead of wandering through people trying to keep track of three kids Kennedy hitched a ride with me in the pack and Nyla and Keira were able to hang out and play in the central grassy knoll.


Nyla on Wednesday at the Farmers Market.

Afterwards I walked to one of my favorite local boutiques and splurged on a new pair of jeans. Embarassingly, I haven't bought a nice pair of jeans since Keira was born. The owner hems for free if you buy a full price pair and it happened that my punch card was full so I got 25% off and still my free hem job so it was a great deal and I get to pick them up on Saturday just before my evening in Seattle visiting an old girlfriend for dinner and drinks.

As a total random aside with no segue if anyone has advice for getting Nyla's hair to stay curly for a few hours I'd welcome it. Their dance recital is next week and they are doing the whole Shirley Temple thing. Do you see that kid's hair in the photo above? Short. Straight. Fine. I have tried the pink sponge rollers on wet hair overnight which creates a slight bouncier version of the hair above. I have also tried a curling iron and an obscene amount of hairspray. Spraying prior to rolling-sizzle-spraying after rolling-cough-cough. This results in a crispier version of what you see above and she "needs" ringlets... ummm, how does one achieve that?

worthless friday

My email is down so here I sit in my office shelling out perfectly good money to accomplish virtually nothing. . .

I had lots of fun in Seattle yesterday although I did come home a bit grumpy because the house was THRASHED. So I went to bed, woke up at 6:30 and ate the leftover coconut cake from our shoot yesterday for breakfast and the cleaning commenced once I was properly induced with sugar. As I stood in my pajamas eating cake Kennedy managed to scuttle into the big girls bathroom and come out like this:


That's how we roll in the AM: Some cake, a hot pair of sunglasses and sweet bedhead.

high | low

Part of our bedtime routine includes what we call high | low. I think it's important to give your kids the opportunity to talk about their day honestly before they are in school and come home to, "What did you do today?" The reply is always, of course, "Nothing." If you want your kids to talk to you I think you need to 1.) start early and 2.) listen. Stop what you are doing and actually listen to your kids. What they have to say at three might not be all that important or even interesting, but what about when they are 13?

High | Low is an easy concept for little kids to grasp, simply the best part of your day and the worst part of your day. Having these conversations with a three and four year old can be pretty entertaining and also put adult life in perspective. Sometimes the low can be that mommy worked that day. . . which usually leads to why do grown ups work? And I don't want to be a grown up, I want to be a kid forever! And, well, um, Yeah! It's just not going to happen kid.

Last night I went first, "My high was that you girls like Megan and had fun with her today." [Megan is our new temporary nanny while ours travels abroad for a quarter] This lead to the conversation that our previous nanny is now living in Greece! over a (omg) cookie shop! GIggle, giggle. "I bet she'll have great cookie stories when she comes back!" Nyla squealed. My low was I still have my cough from our colds weeks ago. Nyla's high was that she got to skip bath time and finish watching 101 Dalmations and her low was *yawn* that "I'm so tired." (She's dramatic that one.) Keira's high was reading books together and her low was getting spaghetti in her hair during dinner. Spaghetti in your hair = bad. And that girl's hair can be pretty unruly. . . unruly enough if she's not careful in her formative years she might get a penis stuck in it.

dancing with myself oh oh oh ooooughumpf

My hip hop class was SO. Much. Fun. I wouldn't qualify myself as sore today but I am feeling stiff which is great and was totally the point. I paid for six weeks last night, so onward. There was an interesting phenomenon though. After nursing three babies my boobs are 1. small and 2. deflated? Is that the proper word? And perhaps it is because I stopped nursing Kennedy relatively recently they are still, well, let's just call them sad. I have small sad boobies. And during dance last night they were subsequently sliding out from under my bra and causing my bra to shift up inside my tank top toward my chin. My boobs are so squishy and small and slippery they were falling out Under.Neath! $%&#*

Obviously I am excited about my next class but now I am also daunted with this awful new boob wrangling dilemma. The high school girl behind me with the lip ring, and the missing tooth, and the ginormous rack had no trouble keeping herself contained. I on the other hand looked like olive oil and was constantly tugging my boobs up and my bra down.

remembrance

Because of the sheer amount of time it takes to evolve from singleton to girlfriend to wife to knocked-up to motherhood it's no wonder that some days you realize more than others that you are an entirely different person. A number of things happened this week that reminded me of the girl of the past. Not the emotional selfish party girl but the girl that used to have time for things that made her (me) feel free and happy, things that I could continue learning or improving physically or intellectually.

I think as grown ups we tend to further push the things of the past that we enjoyed and valued under the rug for fear of looking silly, or being perceived as reliving the "glory days" with a roll of the eyes. For fear of our spouses thinking we are stupid and wasting time with an activity that maybe has no "real world" application. So we chug along and fill our days with things that are perceived as more appropriate. Book clubs, Pampered Chef parties and church groups*. These are things that grown women do. These are things I loathe, therefore I can easily be categorized a someone who doesn't want to grow up. What I really am is someone who isn't willing to fake reality.

All this to say that on Wednesday night I will attend my first hip hop dance class and I couldn't be more thrilled. Dancing is something I used to value but deemed myself all of those falsehoods above; too old, inappropriate, not a mom activity. Well, to hell with all that. It will be enough to keep me feeling fit and it's something I truly value and will enjoy doing which will make me happy and a happy woman is a good wife and mother.

* If you love these things you should absolutely do them. However, I do think there are plenty of women that partake in these activities that are really seeking to fill a different void, and I would be one of those women.