Life These Days.

The Grand Tetons

It feels like life these days is a series of snapshots, moments, that I play back in my mind, looking back and wondering how in the world it is that it goes by so quickly in the long-run, and yet so slowly in the moment.  The rollercoaster of daily chores, the beastlings, the random outings and busy-ness we create for ourselves revolve around routine meals interspersed with playtime and children's shows.  If Matt and I can get in a good conversation, have a laugh, a drink and get in an episode of a fun show, I call the day a success.  This is not the wild adventurous life I imagined for myself, in plain terms.  It is intense in very different ways than I'd thought it would be (everyone chronically underestimates the utter madness and reciprocating joy of parenthood).  But it's wonderful.  Better in so many ways than I ever thought.

Despite this, up until about six months ago, I clung to the absurd tendency to construct my views of what my life should be like based on the idealized life of 26-year-old-me: newly married, adventurous, unfettered and with decent amounts of disposable income to fulfill my dreams and whims (generally interchangeable).  So many of those things are no longer true, sadly in two cases and happily in all the others:

- I'm so glad to no longer be a newlywed despite the happy expectation, promise of that time period in my life.  

- I'm still adventurous despite having very different outlets for that personality trait than I did ten years ago.  

- I am quite fettered - this we know, and we love (though they may drive me crazy half the time).  

- And the disposable income, while not overrated in its ability to add to the quality of life, it is neither here nor there in this rumination, really (except that I will say that it is shockingly expensive to raise three kids).  

Six months ago a bubble burst.  I had to redefine those stubborn, outdated "perfect life" terms as something more realistic based on what I needed, and not necessarily what I wanted.  That didn't sit well with me and I fought it, with frustration, desperation, jealousy, annoyance and denial.  There were so many things I wanted - and why shouldn't I have them?  

- I wanted to travel as much as 26-year-old me.  I can't. Not yet anyway. 

- I wanted to live in a very specific beautiful place that I love - my living, breathing watercolor, as I like to think of it; a place that inspires me daily, despite my husband having little chance of finding a good / fulfilling job in that place, and despite it being a somewhat arbitrary obsession.  I can't.  

- I wanted to be independent, not have to lean on people like family or friends.  I can't.  

I desperately need the support of my family and people I care about, in ways I never knew or admitted before.  And it seems that for ten years I've refused to admit that until that need literally grabbed me and shook me and looked me in the eye and said, "Why are you still pretending you're not desperate to go home? Why are you still pretending you don't know where home is?"

I don't know.  I don't know why I do that.  It makes no sense.  And so this impending manifest destiny leading me home has washed over me like a warm, unstoppable wave.  At first I was dragged, kicking and screaming, until I saw that it was inevitable.  Suddenly, the reality became a positive one; rather than fighting the current, I went with it and actually found I was excited.  Right now, I'm at the crest of the wave, happy but impatient because I am waiting to crash down into a whirlpool of change and upheaval, with only the promise of landing on a distant but familiar shore at the end.  At lease there will be many familiar hands waiting to lift me up when I do, unlike every other time I've ever crashed into a new life.

I am trying to enjoy the view, enjoy the feeling of being suspended in the air, on a beautiful ride.  I'm looking around, trying to absorb what I see and experience and feel from this perspective that will soon be gone.  It feels good to accept this new reality, finally.  There's not much to let go of, practically speaking, here in Utah.  And there is charm and magic in suddenly taking on an adventure I never foresaw wanting to take on.  But it's hard and it's frightening and I oscillate between excitement and being overwhelmed. One day I'll look back on this first voyage of my life as grown-up-me and think how beautiful it was, with all its stops and wanderings, and amazing discoveries (no matter how much I hated or complained about them in the moment).  I'll think of all the interesting things we did, and how lucky we were to do them.  Because one day soon, I'll be in my cozy new house on that new shore, finding new things to be inspired by.  But this time, I won't be on an island.  I'll be surrounded by familiarity and people and that will make all the difference.  Because a life worth living is a life shared with those you love.  It is neither here nor there - it's not any "where."  It is in the moments and memories and happiness suspended between you and the many souls that love you - an invisible tie that doesn't bind.

*  *  *

Here are some impressions of life over the past six months in random order.  It has been busy and beautiful but I'm ready to leave Utah when the time comes!

Antelope Island views

Sparkly little birthday boy.

Impressionistic Bison.

Ogden Valley sunsets never get old.

Needs, not wants.

The world did not end that day.

Happiness.

Hygge Home.

Frozen salt flats.

Snow swimming.

Peachy porch time.

Millions of peaches.  Peaches for me.

Unidentified beautiful sky.

The serendipitous discovery of pop cream / ice corn at the zoo.

Big western sunrises too.

Yellowstonin'.

Oh, to feel at Home.

“To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,

To gain all while you give,

To roam the roads of lands remote,

To travel is to live.”

- Hans Christian Anderson

*  *  *

My wanderlust has always been there.  A part of me as normal and necessary as my skin. For me there was never a time when I didn't want to travel and explore.  While, with age, that tendency has become more refined - I don't really want to go everywhere anymore - it has not lessened at all; this is a longing that defines my core, one of the true, immutable realities of me.  

I think about it a lot - my wanderlust - especially these days, because it is also a truth that is currently at odds with my reality.  What I have found is that with age, things deepen: tendencies especially, but also loves, fears, judgments, dreams, realities.  And so I find myself in a state necessitating consistency, normalcy, and routine, but wanting spontaneity, madness, and adventure.  It's not fair.  I guess not much is.  (And far be it from me to complain about the beautiful and sometimes charmed life I lead.)  But it is exactly what it is: the current state of reality in our house, the pretty green house with a pleasant view.

The concept of Home is one we generally take for granted.  Most people I know can identify a place that they consider their Home, without question, in a manner annoyingly blasé.  They aren't bothered because it's their daily bread, always there, always normal and recognizable.  Never leaving.  Always waiting for them when they need it.  But me...I haven't been able to say where Home is for a long, long time now.  I've spent eighteen years in a state of exciting, nomadic exploration and resettlement.  It was fun and right and I loved it.  But now, living the life I live today, I am ambivalent about whether not being able to name a Home is something I like or hate about my life.

I can say that I hate not knowing where Home is.  I hate always thwarting any attempt to know.  I hate not having the people I love - outside of my husband and best friend, and my wonderful children - near me.  I hate not fitting in anywhere quite, exactly.  I hate not knowing where we'll end up.  I hate trying to make friends with people I don't know and don't really want to put in the effort to know.  I'm tired of phone calls and emails and texts rather than coffees and dinners and parties.  Because those are among the best things in life.

But I love the things I've seen, the things I know, and the things I can imagine one day I'll see and know.  I love the memories we've made and shared and passed to another generation, even as small seeds in their subconscious.  I love that gnawing bug of curiosity in me that simply won't die.  And yet, I love the idea of a home that lasts forever, even if I haven't quite found it yet.  And, oh, to feel at Home.  I love that.

But loving the idea isn't enough.  Because the whispery belief that "Home is where the heart is" is a limiting one.  A false one if only read based on the traditional sense of "Home."  

My heart is in a million places on any given day.  (Don't try to imagine a week.)  Mostly it's here, of course, in my house with my beautiful family, but it's also in Italy on a train to Venice, train ticket in hand for the first time without my parents, in Texas on a bluebonnet field with my sister, walking the streets of Mexico city smelling the smells and seeing the sights of my culture, on the pier on the Adriatic, drinking Porto on a Portuguese 18th birthday, stars shining in our eyes, swimming with jelly fish after gin and tonics.  It's in the Rub' al Khali in Ramadan, breathing in the desert heat.  It's in the dirt of my Utah garden and the worms that make the peonies on the side of my house bloom.  It's in a tent in the Texas hill country, on a tube floating the Guadalupe.  It's at a table in a diner in New York City, eating matzo ball soup and brussels sprouts at 10 o'clock at night, chatting with my fiancé.  It's floating in the Andaman sea next to my husband.  It's swimming in Maine's Atlantic, watching a little red kite fly above, jiggling at the command of my 2 year old son. And my heart is also at Home everywhere he walks.  Everywhere my husband walks. Everywhere my youngest two sons will ever walk.  

But today I feel it's not enough to live on those memories for the feeling of Home. Sometimes you need the substance more than the essence.  Home is something - fleeting, yes, but real.  And to me it's been unclear until the past year.

Home is where we want to be, where our people are already - maybe not the best or golden or only ones, but definitely the ones that will share our lives in day to day, the mundane quotidianity of raising children and growing old in subtle, inescapable, beautiful ways.  Home is with the ones I'll paint with and drink with and eat with and probably smoke a hookah on my porch with.  Home is where I know the streets, where I I can predict the landscape with every coming season, where I can watch a great, big tree grow in my garden, wrinkle after wrinkle, marking my years, and one day tell my sons how small it was when first we moved there. 

I think I know where Home is now.  And to know it is to love it fervently.  I simply can't get there fast enough.  And yet, with irony, that is one trip we can't take quite yet.
Today it's a nostalgic feeling of certainty.  Yesterday it was maddening.  And maybe tomorrow it will be a warm glow of hope.  

But until it happens, oh, to feel at Home!

Three's not a Crowd.

Three's not a crowd.

 
Writing is such a luxury these days.

There are so many things I want to write about and never enough time to do it.  I am overdue for one of my pictorial appreciation posts about the beauty all around me (and there is plenty), I have a back-log of all the culinary dalliances I've been concocting (no, still have not lost the holiday weight), and let's not forget the recent family vacation we took which provided ample photographic evidence of how fortunate we are to lead such a beautiful, adventure and love filled life.  Then again, the cruise also provided plenty of evidence that life as a parent, while rewarding and exciting and fulfilling in many ways, can be stressful, difficult, and draining.  It's what literally takes up every second of my waking existence - not writing or cooking or daydreaming about the Wasatch mountains.  But that's to be expected, I suppose.

And speaking of expectations, I'm not entirely sure what I expected life to be like with three children.  But I know I didn't expect this.  Words fail a little bit.  Perhaps a picture of the crumbs on my kitchen floor, or the never-fully-organized playroom, or my crazy laundry room would symbolically do?  It's hard to describe exactly what I mean by "this" without painting a picture, but I'll try:

I expected squabbles and noise and mess - even a certain degree of chaos.  I expected my workload to increase by a factor of 1 munchkin.  Less me-time, less-Matt time.  I did not expect this - I did not expect to feel so completely frazzled and overwhelmed by the constant disorder and madness imposed on my otherwise orderly and independent existence that I am literally reeling from it some days.  Nobody tells you that once you have 3, you might as well have 5, because the amount of crazy, dirty and busy is not equal to just adding one more person.

And if I'm honest, maybe I'm also a victim of parenthood-induced selective amnesia.  I forgot what the terrible-twos looked, sounded and smelled like.  I forgot about potty training and the random poop-in-the-jeans-at-walmart moments.  I fervently and happily painted breast-feeding in the deepest shade of rose, only to fall into the depths of blue despair after 4 months of another relentless-every-hour-feeder Ciardiello child.  I simply could not remember the sleep-deprivation, or newborn laundry.  I did not expect to feel like I'd won the lottery when I could hear my child pooping from across the room and get there in time to avoid a blow-out diaper.  I didn't expect to not be able to have time to spend with my quiet angel infant of the blow-out diapers because, well, there's two other creatures waiting for me to look, touch, smell, clean, help, kiss, hug, tickle, or feed them ALL DAY, EVERY DAY.

Since when do 6-year-olds act like teenagers?!  I heard the warnings that chauffeuring to extra-curriculars gets old fast, but I was too dumb (or naive) to listen and am now living in daily regret.  Meanwhile I can barely get it together enough to go to sing-along time at the library once a week and have officially been paying for a gym membership for two months without using it once.  I don't know if two kids was that much easier (well, yes, it was) or if maybe it's the age-differences, or my children being particularly "spirited" boys?  I don't know what it is.  I just know it's unexpectedly hard.  I knew when I "signed up," that three kids would be a challenge.  I saw that far away look in my MIL's eyes when I told her we intended to have three children and she, having been through it herself, said, "Oh Brenda, it's hard.  It's really hard." 

We've all heard that three is a crowd.  What I didn't know was that it's not a crowd.  This is not about not having enough chairs at the dinner table, or having to buy an annoying extra pair of snow boots or one of those stupid tandem strollers (may they be cursed).  It's not about figuring out how you evenly split the last piece of brownie into thirds when halves are so much easier.  Three's not a crowd.  It's equal parts beauty and madness.  It's beyond anything I'd ever hoped or feared.  Really, what it is is absolutely, positively, all-consuming in every possible human way.  It makes me look at my three kids every day and feel both exasperated at my obvious stupidity at wanting three children, and my prescience to go ahead and go for it, because, in truth, I realize I could never choose one to get rid of.  I simply couldn't breathe if one of them were gone.   And our lives would be all the duller, less rich for it, no doubt about it.

In the end, I AM living in - surviving - this crazy moment in time, though.  It's hard because they're all little and dependent and need me and their dad to survive so much that we spend all our waking moments doing annoying but necessary things (like putting tiny socks back on for the 17th time or sweeping up impossible amounts of crumbs under the bar stools in the kitchen five times a day).  But I'm living in it with a real awareness of how fortunate I am to be able to live in it - despite the frustration, the loss of self, the moments I feel like I'm drowning.  And the reason I get it is because sometimes when I come up for air, I get a glimpse - a small, sparkling view of a moment when they're all playing together, sleeping soundly (the way only tired little kids do), eating their dinners in contentment, unknowingly grateful for their happy and bountiful home.  It makes me realize that one day they'll be grown, and if I'm lucky they'll turn out to be beautiful humans on whom I'll too be able to depend for love and company, but most of all for those memories of what it took to make them independent, well-balanced, loving parts of this crazy life and world.

And that will be worth it.  In an absolute, all-consuming kind of way, too. 

*  *  *

Way overdue for an update on the boys.  Here's a quick snapshot of each to-date.

Roman

Age 6 1/2 years

Nicknames: Romijn, Romidgen, Rome, Buddy, Buck-o

Roman is currently in 1st grade at a Spanish Immersion program.  He seems to love Spanish but is quite stingy with the knowledge he shares.  He recently looked up at Linus and declared "Linus, tu eres un ogro de peluche!" much to everyone's shock and delight.  He is an incredible reader.  He will complain and whine incessantly about having to read but the second he gets hooked into his book he shuts the entire world off.  He's creative and imaginative and an "outside the box" thinker who can think of solutions to things I'd never come up with on my own.  He loves to play Mario-Maker on the Wii.  He wants to help me whenever he can.  He's a caring and thoughtful big brother.  He's loud, messy, and never seems to listen (except he's absolutely always listening and just chooses to ignore anything he doesn't want to deal with).  His favorite movies are the old Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, The Sound of Music (he does a mean rendition of Julie Andrews' "Do - A Deer"), Elf, Toy Story.  His favorite books are the Magic Treehouse Books.  His love of antiquity continues in his curiosity about ancient ruins and maps.  He also seems to have a particular love of science, experiments, electricity and constructive games.  His favorite foods are tortellini with pesto, pizza, salmon sushi, sunny-side-up eggs, and clementines.  He hates taking a shower (and usually leaves shampoo in his hair), refuses to wear pajamas (he just dons his underwear and fleece robe), and wakes up earlier than anyone in the house to watch cartoons.

*  *  *

Alexander

Age 2 1/4 years

Nicknames: Baboo, Al, Al-Zander, Babs, Pigmy-Midget, Aloysius Dinkle Doo

Alexander is still not in preschool because Utah doesn't do that and he's very attached to me anyway so I'm loathe to sign him up for daycare.  He is a happy, boundingly-full-of-energy little man who is extremely agile for his age.  He has the eagerness of a puppy.  He wants to be just like Roman (and may very well be stronger than him, or very nearly so).  He has the loudest cry of all the kids, but is the quietest otherwise.  He loves cars, trucks (anything with sirens) and ride-on toys.  He has used all the bikes and tricycles more than Roman ever did in the 5 years before him and is especially good on the plasma car and balance bike.  He listened and followed directions splendidly until he turned two.  Now he still listens and follows directions but only after throwing himself on the floor writhing, crying, and screaming for 1-2 minutes first.  He was potty-trained at 2 years old, but still occasionally has accidents which may very well be the cause of an awkward eye-twitch I've developed.  He loves to read books with me - some of our favorites are "The Snowy Day," the Curious George books, "Brown Bear, Brown Bear," "The Best Mouse Cookie," and all the Helen Oxenbury baby books.  He once fell asleep while I read him "Lost and Found."  Just once. :)

We call Alex a dangerous snuggle bug because if you lay down and fall asleep with him, you'll never want to get up again. He likes to burrow under his covers and is quite possessive of his blanket.  His favorite tv shows are Peppa Pig, Go DIego Go!, Ben & Holly's Little Kingdom, and Plaza Sesamo.  He's my Spanish-loving man and the most bilingual of all the kids so far.  He loves to wash his hands, brush his teeth, help put lotion on and put his boots on (even if it's usually on the wrong foot.)  He's the reason we take walks - even in the snow.  He HATES naps and usually falls asleep and wakes up crying.  Just how he rolls.  Two minutes and his coffee (warm milk) later, he's laughing.  His favorite foods are apple sauce, yoghurt, cereal, mac n cheese, and anything Matt and I are eating.  He'll eat olives with me and for that I'm eternally grateful.

*  *  *

Linus

Age Nearly 8 Months

Nicknames: Yinus, Yenai, Yen-Yen, Gumball, Leenosh, Gorrinus, The Golden Ginus

Linus just started sitting up really well and is starting to move around a lot.  You can tell he'll be crawling very soon.  He's the typical last child: the little darling, very patient with this older brothers - the apple of everyone's eye.  He has a quiet but happy personality.  He has started sleeping in his own room now, though he still comes into our bed after midnight.  He is still nursing and quite resistant to bottles though he will occasionally take one grudgingly.  He has just discovered the joys of real solid food (not purees).  His favorite foods these days are puffs, cereals of any sort, soft pears, chocolate (oh yes), apple sauce, and grapefruit segments.  He likes grabbing the book pages more than reading them. He loves dumping out buckets of toys, sucking on everything, and enjoys being wrestled with or allowing his brothers to drag him around the house.  He puts himself to sleep pretty easily in his crib at his bedtime of 6pm.  He takes 3 naps a day, rendering everyone home-bound until further notice, but his smile and babbling makes the inconvenience well worth it.  He has started taking baths with Alex and loves the water.  It is both satisfying and melancholy when he grows out of something.  The most recent things to go the way of the Dodo are the playmat, bouncy seat, and, while I'm still not willing to admit it, the burp cloths I've used with all three boys.  He has reddish, brownish, blondish hair like Roman did, but looks more like Matt in the facial features.  Sometimes Matt looks at him and says, "How did you end up being named Linus?"  I'm not sure either.  But it suits him well. :)

Keep Your Eye on Little Jupiter: Roman is 4!

Birthday boy riding his new bike

Before I can remember remembering,  and definitely before I was four, I knew I had a special necklace I daily wore and that my parents gave me.  It had a charm with what looked like a number four on it, paired with a gold medallion of the Virgin Mary, Jesus and the Holy Spirit which I'd been given for my baptism.  This all seemed very normal.  It likewise seemed very normal to me when my mom told me the "4" was an Egyptian symbol for "eternal love."  It also made perfect sense that this bit of wisdom was one she had gotten from none other than the cover of an album in the 70's by Earth, Wind & Fire.  :)

My four.

It's funny what's passed down from one generation to another.  I thought of that four a lot last week, when Roman turned four, and we held a bouncy house party for him in our front yard.  I thought about how that metaphorical "eternal love" had also been passed down to him, but that, unlike my mother - blessed with two obedient daughters - there was no way I'd trust my little warrior to wear a gold necklace, and probably wouldn't for years to come.  But that despite that, I metaphorically gave him my "eternal love" daily, and in greater amounts, perhaps, on the day of his birth, that day being filled with so many memories and so much meaning for me and him.

In the end, symbols have the meaning we wish them to.  It took me little more than a few minutes to do some research and find that my beloved four is actually the symbol for the planet Jupiter, in some ways far more fitting for Roman than me because Jupiter was the head of the Roman pantheon, the Italic equivalent to Zeus.  Jupiter symbolizes optimisim, the higher mind, generosity, goodness and opportunity.  His was the thunderbolt and he was held to be the greatest, the strongest, the leader.  I can't help but feel that's apt in some likely-highly-exaggerated, perhaps maternally-convoluted way. :)  Roman and his Buzz Lightyear party, in which he was the head space ranger, wings, lightning bolts, laser gun and all, is indeed a little Jupiter - commanding our attention, our admiration, and our love in new ways every year.  Roman bravely suffering his first cast being put on a broken arm.  Roman asking questions at the art museum about Mummies and why we die.  Roman asking me if I'm a dark heart or a true heart when I don't want to share my dessert.  Roman knocking things over and leaving trails of crumbs, no matter how mindful he tries to be.  Roman being his wonderful self: thoughtful, silly, boisterous and perfect.

And so, to close, in the funk-filled words of Earth, Wind & Fire: 

"Keep your eye on Jupiter, such beauty in the sky,

 We will wait for your return, in the by & by

Keep your eye on Jupiter, memories we shall fulfill

just to view a brighter day, and do a righteous will."

*  *  *

Here are a couple of lists to remind me of what Roman is and has been like over the past year, his first spent in Colorado, and some pictures from his wonderful, friend-filled birthday party - a chance not only to celebrate Roman being in our lives, but also to celebrate the small but budding support network of friends we have started here in Denver.

*  *  *

Top 5 Songs Roman Loves to Sing / Listen to

a little more angsty, and a little more selective

Sing us a song - you're the piano man.

 1. Lookin' Out My Back Door - Credence Clearwater Revival
There was a six-week period when we went skiing every weekend, mostly at A-basin this year.  I became obsessed with listening to my Credence Clearwater Revial Greatest Hits CD during the multiple-hour drives.  Let's just say that thanks to that and maybe thanks to us watching The Big Lebowski and absurd amount in his youth, Roman has become a fan. Especially of the line "Do-do-do-lookin' out my back dooooooaaa'!" which he belts out while slapping the back of his seat, kinda like I do :)

2. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
This became a favorite on our cross-country drive last June from Maine to Colorado.  It's kind of a dark, broody song with a slightly haunting quality to it (for the love, don't watch the freaky video), but for whatever reason Roman calls it "his song" and gets mad if I don't put it on when requested.  He also loves to yell out "hey!"

3. Pack Up - Eliza Doolittle
When my niece Sara Eli came to stay with us during our first month living in Denver, Roman and her developed a hilarious duet singing to this song.  Sara was Eliza and Roman was, clearly, the old black man that sings the chorus to this remade, British World War I song. :)  Hilarious.

4. Home - Philip Philipps
Again, not the first song I would have thought a three year old would like, but there's something about the melody that holds Roman's attention.  He loves to sing and hum to it.

5. Ta-ra-ta-ta - Mina
This is not the song Roman sings most often, but I have to say, it's the one he's absolutely the most passionate about.  I became a fan of this song after Matt and I watched a funny Italian movie called "Dillo Con Parole Mie" in which the protagonists do an impromptu lip sync of this quirky 60's era Italian song at the end of the movie while riding a bus in the Greek Islands.  Mina's music, if you're not familiar with it, is a bit dramatic and lots of fun, in the best of ways.  Roman knows all the words - in a slurry, phonetically pronounced Italian - and also works a MEAN shimmy while he sings them.

*  *  *

Top 5 Random, Funny & Touching Things Roman Said

over the past year

Funny guy.

1. Every day after school Roman has to wash his hands.  Sometimes he tries to trick me by just quickly rinsing them without scrubbing with soap, so I always ask him to let me smell his hands when he's done to prove that he actually used soap to wash them.  The other day he cam up and said: "Mommy, smell my hands.  I used water and sunlight."  They still smelled like bananas but I couldn't help but smile. (May 2013)

2. Roman was looking particularly thoughtful one day in the car after one of our many conversations about mummies, death and Egypt (where you go when you die, according to him).  He suddenly announced, "Check one: don't get old and be dead.  Check two: don't crash into things so you'll be dead." (Jan 2013)

3. In reference to the human anatomical feature we call intestines: "Mommy at the bottom of your stomach it looks like you have macaroni but you don't." (Jan 2013)

4. "Hello, this is Roman Ciardiello.  Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.  Thanks." :) (July 2012)
 
5. Bright and early on the morning of his 4th birthday, he woke me up and said:
"Mommy, look how big I am! Look how big my eyes are!
(Stretches eyes)
Look how big my nose is!
(Flares nostrils)
Look how big my muscles are!
(Does the Popeye)
I can even hop on one foot!"

And then he hopped all around, halfway and very proudly, for quite a while. :)

Honorary Mention: When Roman broke his arm in October at his cousin Ava's house after falling off his daddy's back (while riding him like a horse), we all spent a nervous and worrying couple of hours in the Children's hospital emergency room.  I couldn't tell if he was scared or just in pain; he was just very quiet and stoic while he watched cartoons.  When we got out, and only after being given quite a lot of pain medication, he looked at me as we walked to the car and said, "Mommy, I thought I was going to die."  Little people, big world.

*  *  *

Top 5 Things Roman Loves These Days

strange and varied, like his mom

Foo Dogs with Daddy; Chinese New Year

1. Ancient Things and Egyptian Mummies
When we started frequenting our new local library last year, Roman and I gathered a motley assortment of books.  I wasn't sure what he'd be most interested - not having taken him to the library for years (please don't judge me: there are no libraries in Abu Dhabi (yep.), and the two times I went in Portland he almost got us kicked out he was so loud and boisterous at story time).  One of the books was this Eye Witness book on Mummies.  What ensued was an endless series of renewals and a full-fledged obsession.  At the beginning of the school year, I was informed by one of his teachers that Roman had given an impromptu lecture on Mummies, the Sphynx and hieroglyphics for his pre-school class (choice quote: "Can everyone say 'the Great Sphynx?'").  Our membership to the Museum of Nature & Science has paid for itself about five times over.  And a very nerdy party of me absolutely loves that he knows who Anubis is.

2. Steak.
What a little man Roman has turned out to be.  He loves steak and requests it regularly.  That and pork chops.  When I asked him this year what he wanted his special birthday dinner to be he said, unequivocally, "Steak, corn (on the cob) and cherry limeades (from Sonic)."  That's what we had - along with the prerequisite chocolate cake with strawberries (his favorite), and Bluebell Ice Cream. 

3. Guns & Shooters
"Shooters," as they are euphemized at Roman's school, are the dreaded but inevitable obsession of most toddler-aged boys I know.  Even if I never gave him a toy gun, he would use his finger, or a branch, or a piece of broccoli.  He loves playing good-guy-bad-guy (again, something he was never taught) and loves putting on his holster, cantine and cowboy gun his Grand gave him.  He also admires his daddy's love of skeet and bird shooting.

4. Bedtime Stories & Night-lights
We have an array of different night lights in Roman's room, from the snoopy one to the regular one, to the Christmas lights in his "secret hiding place" (the crawl space in his room).  My mom even got him a cool turtle that displays stars and moons on the cieling and plays nature music.  There's nothing Roman loves more (and nothing that works as a better threat or bribery) than his beloved bedtime stories.  Matt is more fun than me because he likes to hide under the blankets and read stories with a flashlight.  But I get the prize for good voices and accents.  He especially loves the Olivia stories (I agree) and we recently found a great version of Jack & the Beanstalk which he really likes.

5. His Soccer Class.
We signed Roman up for pee-wee soccer a month ago or so.  His first class was a struggle for his two type-A parents, watching him be the only kid who completely disregarded the coach's orders and basically ran around picking up random soccer balls at will.  Matt had to step in several times.  Eventually, Matt set up a mini, nightly, post-dinner training camp in our basement.  He memorized all the games and drills Roman was supposed to know and basically drilled him in them daily (all the while having a great time, might I add) so that now Roman is the best, most well-behaved kid in his whole class (well, besides the goody-goody girls, which, everyone knows, will always be better behaved than the boys!).  Every day after dinner Roman says, "daddy can we go play soccer now?"  I love that.

Honorary Mention: Breaking my back - by stepping on every crack, that is. :)

 *  *  *

Top 5 Random Cool Things About Roman

Roman soldier, or Jupiter in disguise?

1. He's a Classicist at heart, too.
At some point in the fall of 2012, I discovered I still had my National Geographic CD on Pompeii that I used as a teacher in NY for my Pompeii unit.  I immediately wanted to put it on for Roman - the recreation of Vesuvius' eruption alone is worth watching it for, but the British actors are a second, surprise bonus - but Matt said he thought there was no way he'd be interested.  Against all odds, he sat there the entire hour, enthralled by the story of Pompeii, its people, and the eruption.  It soon became his favorite movie to watch and for about a month he watched it daily.  We were thrilled when our local Nature & Science museum then opened a beautiful exhibit on Pompeii, complete with the plaster casts of bodies and animals that are Roman's favorites. 

2. He Dallies in Aesthetics.
I wouldn't say Roman is a particularly "broody" kid, but he definitely has a lot of pensive, quieter moments (yes, even in between all the screaming, yelling and throwing that goes on non-stop).  He's more observant and less willing to share his inner thoughts than a lot of kids I've met.  Sometimes that drives me insane.  Sometimes, though, it is a great reminder of what a beautiful, deep little soul I have in my house.  Roman loves to stop and admire beauty everywhere, from the sun ("Mommy, isn't is a beautiful day?"), to art ("Isn't that painting beautiful, mommy?", to my dress ("Mommy, you look like a princess!".  He thinks it's interesting that people can fall in love with the wrong person, but still find the right one eventually.  He often asks me what songs "mean" and then sits to consider what I've said.  I hope I can continue to model and encourage that about him.

3. He has an incredibly memory.  And flare for the dramatic.
My mom says he gets it from me.  I have to agree.  I don't know many other people who can memorize most choice parts of a movie after just watching it once.  Roman loves to perform little sections of movies he likes.  Most memorable is his rendition of the "Bernie" clip from The Incredibles, complete with hand and head gestures, and several character changes.  And also his delivery on the dead-pan line by Lightning McQueen while in the Rust-eze tent: "Race cars don't need headlights because the track is always....littt." He has also mastered basic American, English, Scottish and Texan accents.  I'll have to video-tape him one of these days.

4. His favorite holiday of All is Halloween.
He has told me multiple times that he prefers it to Christmas, which, to me is borderline heretical.  He loves skeletons (2012 costume) and, as anyone who knows Roman can tell you, is absolutely obsessed with candy and sweet things.  He loves it when the seasonal Halloween stores pop-up, and trips to Wal-mart in October become almost impossible as he insists we go try on every single mask they have.  He started planning next year's costume before he was even done trick-or-treating this year.  I can't wait to see what he'll be next.

5. He loves maps.  And thrift-shopping.
Roman and I have become companions in trawling for unusual and interesting things at our local Goodwill and other thrift shops.  He loves to go down every aisle looking at things and asking questions about them.  Once we found a gigantic child's Atlas - the thing is probably 2.5 feet by 1.5 feet.  It shows maps of the whole world and the US, and is illustrated.  He loves to look at it and it became quite the rage at school when he brought it for show and tell.  He owns many other atlases (the first of which we purchased at a yard sale in Portland last summer) and has a map of the Roman empire in his room.  I love his curiosity at what they are, how they work, and what they represent.  And I'm thankful that he loves to indulge my closet-hoarder tendencies. :)

*  *  *

Roman's 4th Birthday & Party

Blowing out his candles with Evil Doctor Pork Chop and a Cherry Limeade

His first real bike - no training wheels!

The stage.

Sweet moment with Daddy before the madness.

Scoping out the goods.

Leading Space Ranger Training Camp!

On the war path for the Evil Emperor Zurg!

Zurg has arrived.  ATTACK!!!

Funny faces.

Finally breaking the pinata!

Jumping together at the very end.

 Happy 4th Birthday Roman!

Gratitude and Beauty.

headed somewhere

We got back from a wedding in Phoenix on Monday - just in the nick of time for it to dump another foot of snow here in Denver.  Yippee.

But I won't go into my bitterness over the further extended winter here - or any of the frustrating random things that have happened lately either - because the topic of my post today is a conglomeration of thoughts and impressions on gratitude and beauty.  It has been an intense and busy past couple of weeks.  Yesterday I sat down and realized how overwhelmed I have been feeling with everything that's going on (and not going on), and realized that I needed to remind myself to appreciate the little things.

Indeed, here lately, I've actually seen and felt a lot of really, really beautiful things.  Much like when I wrote my "Life is So Random" post in Portland, today, in the midst of snow and clouds, I wanted to commemorate the small, random but meaningful things in my life.  Yes, I do it so I don't forget them - but I guess I also believe it's good to occasionally, purposefully, remind myself of the truly, very beautiful and privileged life I lead, and of how much there is to be thankful for in my rather small, but personally significant, world.

*  *  *

Life Moments of Gratitude and Beauty.

1. On Staying.
Matt and I have spent relatively little time in downtown Denver as a couple.  One morning while my mom was visiting the weekend of Easter we happened to drive down and walk around, drinking coffee and taking pictures.  It was fun to be in a deserted city center and take silly pictures like we used to back in the day.  It feels good to stay and explore for once.

2.  On Miraculous Life.
We met a newborn baby boy a couple of weeks ago.  He reminded me of the wonder, fragility and utterly mysterious nature of life.  And of the irrepressible instinct we humans have, in spite of it all, to take care of one another - even strangers - no matter who, what, where, when or why.

3. On Home-grown Traditions.
For Easter this year I baked Greek Easter bread for the second time.  It's a random recipe I came across that appealed to me due to my eternal-Hellenic-nostalgia and an odd love of hard-boiled eggs.  This attempt came out so much tastier than last year's.  It looked so pretty too - like springtime in a loaf of bread.  It always feels like you've accomplished something special when you bake a truly memorable loaf of bread, in a salt-of-the-earth-with-neon-eggs kinda way.  And I think, however disconnected to us it may be, I'll keep this new Easter tradition.

4. On Random Acts of Love & Rookie Gardening.
A couple of weekends ago, without me asking, Matt built me a raised garden bed, despite the fact that we will have to leave it here and might only get to use it for one season.  It made me so happy and looks so nice.  I immediately went out to buy herbs and seeds, all of which have now been obliterated by the two feet of snow we've had since then (rookie Denver mistake).  But my garden was so beautiful for that one day that it looked absolutely perfect that I just had to share it.  And, hey, in a few weeks I'll start over again with new plants - much like nature, I suppose. :)

 

5. On Unexpected Splendor.
I'd never been to Arizona before this past weekend, but I was absolutely dumbfounded by its beauty.  It was true desert - hot, dry, and stark.  Here's a picture of an incredible sunset we witnessed the other day.  The picture really doesn't even do it full justice.

  

6.  On Stopping to See the Individual Trees.
Upon arriving to Phoenix we rented a car and took a beautiful two-hour drive north of the city to Montezuma's Castle National Monument - a collection of ruins of clay and limestone cliff dwellings built by Arizona's Native Americans several hundred years ago.  While the ruins alone were remarkable, in typical fashion, I simply couldn't get past the immensity and beauty of the Arizona Sycamores (my beloved Plane Trees) that grew all around the area. They looked straight out of a painting.  Maybe I'll paint them myself one day.

7. On Growing Up.
Roman will be four years old in a matter of weeks.  He's growing up.  He tells me when his heart breaks.  He tells me when he likes my dress.  He's so much a person now that I almost can't believe I have the privilege to create and raise him.  I'm glad we still get moments like this one, making snow angels together in the mountains, without a care in the world but each other.

Snowy-Spring-Equinox-Hope: In Crafty Form.

The storm of March 23rd and the Metaphorical Red Birdhouse.

"Spring is when you feel like whistling, even with a shoe full of slush."

Doug Larson

*  *  *

I can't take much more of this.  When I said I loved Denver's seasons I had no idea they would involve snow post-spring-equinox.  Eff that.  I'm over the snow.  I did more than my time with four years in the frozen tundra.  I'm done with the ski season (even if Matt intends to try to drag me out there again today and on Easter against my will).

In truth, despite having enjoyed our first Colorado winter thoroughly, I've been complaining about the cold ever since we had one utterly glorious 70-degree day a week ago.  Roman played outside (without complaining once!) for 5 hours.  We had margaritas on the porch.  We got the outdoor speaker-system working and, as if a sign from the Gods above, the first song to play was Abba's Waterloo.  I bought Roman a straw fedora.  Spring was nigh, dammit!  And I, for one, believe that once the flip-flops have been brought out, one simply cannot go back to the Joan of Arctics.  The absurdity of having to bring my newly-planted rosemary bushes inside, covered in snow and frozen, is not lost on me.

I've been so busy springing forward that I actually briefly believed I could will the snow away.  But, no, as I sit here typing, hot coffee in hand, it is a full-on blizzard outside my window.  At least I can cling to a few little projects I've been working on as a source of Vernal hope.  Time to share.

*  *  *

Snowy-Spring-Equinox-Hope

In Crafty Form

1. Krista! Spoiler Alert: Evangeline's Little Outfit.

The Pinafore

My friend Krista just had a little girl (three months ago!) and her name means "bearer of good news."  Fitting for this post.  
I've been toiling away on this homemade project for her

Evie's Ruffle-y Bloomers.

based on this "cross-over pinafore" tutorial and this bloomer tutorial, (the package should be with them any day now along with some other surprises).
I found the awesome vintage fabric at an estate sale months ago and loved it immediately.  It screams spring.  I chose this outfit because the pinafore serves as a dress for a baby but can be used later as a shirt for a toddler.

It came out really nicely despite being more involved than I originally thought it would be - I swear to never attempt to make ruffles out of linen again - and I hope little Evie gets some use out of it once she's a little bit older. :)


2. Kitchen-Door-Melted-Crayon-Stained-Glass.

Roman's Melted-Crayon Creations and the Snow

We have an almost-all-glass door in our kitchen - our back door, technically - that I use as our seasonal decoration door.  We've had hand-cut snowflakes on it for months, and a few days ago I decided it was time for a little rejuvenating spring-time beauty.  I found several tutorials on how to make melted-crayon stained glass and thought Roman would enjoy it.  I didn't have a warming tray (though I'm seriously considering getting one, now), so I went with the old wax paper and hot iron trick.

Working on the Easter Egg

 We grated and chopped up some crappy crayons Roman got in a birthday goody bag recently, and this was the result: one crazy Easter egg, and two beautiful stars.  I would say that chopping the crayons roughly works significantly better than grating them.  I used colored crepe paper to make the borders.  Roman also did a free-style piece which ended up looking like a tree.  He hung it on his bedroom window so he can "look at it when [he] wake[s] up." :)


3. The Formicarium.
 Roman got an ant farm for Christmas.  I wouldn't be lying if I said it was partly a gift to myself because I've always wanted an ant farm.  I find ants fascinating.  They are intelligent, tidy, empathetic and organized. Some of them are even farmers.  Pretty much a lot of what I aspire to in a nutshell. :)  So when we finally got our ant shipment from Uncle Milton a couple of weeks back, I was thrilled.  It also helped to slightly ease the pain of Frankie's untimely death.

Three tunnels complete; the height of the dynasty.

The Formicarium - God, I love that word - sits in our kitchen.  The ants have managed to make three connecting tunnels and have kept me occupied for many an hour.  Sadly, of late, the whole thing has gone downhill and the undertaker has had more than enough work for his liking.  I don't know if it's too cold, too wet, too much food, but the ants are dying slowly but surely.  Still, they have been a lovely reminder that warmer weather is on the way, what with their industrious and tenacious ways.

Still not sure if I'll order another vial of ants when these are gone.  The fact that it's illegal to ship queen ants means that the formicarium is, essentially, a tomb from day one.  Maybe sea monkeys are next? 


4. Tree-Climbing & Soccer

Nothing says spring more to me than playing outside.  We're lucky that in Colorado, even when there's snow on the ground, if the sun is shining it's warm enough to play outside.  Roman and I have been taking advantage of this and I've even started trying to teach him how to climb trees (something that I rarely see kids do these days).  He hasn't had much success doing it on his own yet, but I am hopeful because the trees in our neighborhood are still young and suited to his height.  Here's a picture of him on one of his first attempts.

 

We also signed Roman up for the spring session of Lil Kickers Soccer, an indoor soccer program at a local gym which provides me with many child-obsessed-photo-ops and Roman, the long-sleeve-hater, with a weekly chance to wear shorts and a t-shirt in the winter.  Oh and Matt gets to indulge his inner-coach.  Win-win-win.

5. Sneak-Peak: The Upcoming Birthday Party

R-Man.

Boom: The Big 4.

As everyone close to me knows, Roman's May-Day birthday always provides me with 3-4 months worth of craftiness.  It always keeps me occupied during the generally-dreary winter months, a distraction that is particularly welcome this year.  I have, admittedly, gotten a particularly early start this year.

If you know us well, you know that I have good reason for looking for projects to keep me distracted so please don't judge me when I tell you that I've already chosen and embellished Roman's birthday outfit and started on the rather-involved project of making Buzz Lightyear wings out of cardboard boxes and duct tape for each child who will attend his party.  No, I have not even sent out invitations.  No, I am not insane.  Just really, really restless.  Oh, and highly efficient. :)  Here's a sneak-peak of what's to come:

 

And here's to Spring showing up.  For reeeeeals, y'all.