Halloween and a Few Excuses

On Mondays, we have school, swim lessons, and soccer practice. Tuesdays, we have a standing play date. Wednesdays, we have swim lessons, and church Christmas program practices are starting. Thursdays are library days at school, which find me shaking down the 2-year old in the hopes of ferreting out last week's choice read. Fridays, the kids watch about two hours of Rescue Bots while I chisel crusted fruit snacks and last week's chocolate milk out of the carpet in the swagger wagon. 

Halloween kicks off School Season--that magical time of year when every week includes a party, a conference, a parade, or a field trip. This year, we had two Halloween parades at our little Lutheran school (no scary costumes if you please), a fall festival, a party, a neighborhood carnival, and trick or treating. My children haven't slept in four days, but darn it, they powered through those chocolate bars. (P.S. To the parents who handed out Heath bars, I say "Well done and thank you," because those tasty treats satisfied my kids' parent tax in full.) 

They say that if you send a wedding gift within a year of the ceremony, you're well within good time. And now that I've covered a few excuses for another tardy post....Halloween! 

This cheerleader keeps fit with a steady diet of popcorn. Who says carbs are bad?

Even Captain America needs a break sometimes. 

Super hero in action.

She's her brother's biggest cheerleader, and now she has the outfit for the job.

The besties at their Halloween parade. 

Every girl needs a wardrobe option. At the last minute, she found her princess crown, and what the princess wants, the princess gets. 

Seriously handsome. 

I love this little character. 

\

His daddy is pretty cute too. 

The besties are ready for round two. 

I love everything about this picture. 

And this one. She's a naughty little princess. 

With nearly every minute of every day scheduled, these moments are rare. 

These too. 

Even super heroes get frightened from time to time. His kryptonite? An aging basset hound dressed as a hot dog. Sigh. 

It took her less than five minutes to lose the princess dress and find her super hero's magic shoes. 

And about five more minutes to find the one bag of Cheetos. Cheetos make her happy. 

This one was a little less thrilled to share his Halloween spoils. 

But, a good time was had by all. 

(And soon, I'll begin to write again with purpose--until then, welcome to my family scrapbook.).

Recreating Perfect Moments--a/k/a Second Child Syndrome, Second Verse

"I a boy!"

"No, Gigi, you're a girl. You're mommy's big girl!"

"I not a big girl, I a person!"

"Yes, you are a person indeed."

"Nawwww Momma! I a person! Not a deed!"

Gigi is her own person. I know this. She knows this. But sometimes, I have an irresistible urge to recreate a moment that I had with her brother.  There was this one beautiful fall morning about two years ago. Gigi was so small that I was wearing her in a front pack. RJ was barely tolerating me, let alone his sister. One morning, in an effort to calm his tantrums and keep my sanity, we headed to the park. I happened to have a yellow bucket. The light happened to be just right. And, I happened to have my little camera in my backpack. It was magical:

A couple of days ago, in an effort to quell her tantrums and with high hopes for keeping my sanity, I tried to recreate that same magical morning.

She's her own person.

The morning wasn't quite so magical. And it created more tantrums than it quelled. I suspect, however, that someday I'll look back with a smile.

The light wasn't quite as perfect as it was two years ago, but the model certainly was.

She's a person, with opinions on her shoes, her outfits, her car seat, and her lunch (is it wrong to pay a child in Oreo's in order to get her to eat a chicken nugget?).

Secretly, she may be a little angry that her pumpkin patch photo doesn't quite have the same zip as her brother's:

She was not impressed. Second child syndrome. I hope she's not damaged permanently. 

So far, she seems to be doing just fine. 

And, we did find a little magic of our own that morning. 

Two Years, Too Much, To the Moon and Back: Gigi Turned Two!

GiGi turned two about a month ago. She suffers from a particularly bad case of Second Child Syndrome a/k/a "You're Not the Firstborn." We did have a party, with cake (per GiGi's request). I did take a lot of pictures. I started a new job the week after her party, and as the story often goes with the second child, we got busy. Field trips and doctor visits happened (neither child was pleased about the latter though they are now soundly protected from the flu).

I had her party pants perfectly planned. They were trimmed in yellow gingham to match her yellow gingham sailor dress, both of which would make her look like the perfectly Victorian cherub she's meant to be.

GiGi had different ideas:

She wore pink party pants. 

And didn't look Victorian at all.  She did, however, look perfectly GiGi.  If you give a two-year old girl Hi Cat pajamas, she's going to want to wear them. (Yes, I know she's Hello Kitty, but to GiGi she's Hi Cat. It's her party, and she can Hi Cat if she wants to.) 

This was the day of her actual birthday. There's a theme developing. Her shoes are sparkly Hi Cats. She made a special request for her birthday: "I wanna see the baby el'phant!" It certainly wasn't too much to ask, so we did. GiGi and I spent the morning at the zoo. She threw more than two fits, in fact quite a few. But, turning two is a big step, and it can be too much sometimes.  We often have to stop so I can ask her, "GiGi, how big are your feelings? Are they too big?"

We finished up the day with a trip to gymnastics and fried food. I wish I could tell you that I made her a big cake with two candles and that we all gathered 'round the family table to sing. But I'd be lying. It was too much for one day. We settled for fried food...

...and funny ears. 

This is the morning of her party. She was excited because her daddy had told her there would be friends; that they'd all sing to her; and that there would be cake. (If you're curious, this is also a Hi Cat shirt. I'm buying stock in Sanrio; that seems to be a reasonable way to fund her education.)

Did you really believe we'd have any other theme? 

Girlfriend was excited for her b'woons.

So was her brother. Kind of. As excited as a five-year old boy is going to get at a two-year old girl's Hi Cat party. 

When asked what she wanted for her birthday, she replied, "An orange ball." 

There were a few other gifts too. 

Earlier that morning, she found an old pacifier and popped it in her mouth. If she had ever been thoughtful enough to use one when she was five months old, I might have let her carry it around all day. As it was, she spent the rest of the day (and is still currently) asking for her "bubble." 

Poppy knows the way to a girl's heart--a new phone.

And what girl doesn't love some fancy new bath bubbles?

Gma Cathy outfitted GiGi in her first ballet slippers; the Batman bandaid was per GiGi's request. 

Pink fingernails for the birthday girl. 

GiGi's babies are the envy of the rubber baby set thanks to Gma Lilly and the claw foot tub.

GiGi posed prettily for Gma Cathy. (When asked, "GiGi, how many pigtails do you want?" She'll tell you, "Two!" Of course.)

Baby sisters can be too much. And, RJ was grateful for a little spoiling of his own that day. 

As for me? Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words. Sometimes it's something right out of Life. Sometimes, it's just something right out of life, when the floors aren't swept, the clutter isn't cleared, and there are goldfish crackers in the carpet. I had a moment during the party when I was watching GiGi chase balloons with her brother--a moment when I understood what it meant to love my babies to the moon and back; a moment when nothing was too much, and everything was right in my world.  I haven't seen this look on my face in a long time.

GiGi turned two. She's opinionated to the point of time-outs at school for growling at the teacher. True story. She's too fast for her own good. She challenges me and makes me a better mom. And thanks to GiGi and her big brother, I know what it is to love someone to the moon...and back.  

Calling Doctor Bombay

Anyone who has potty trained a toddler (or who has been around RJ for 45 minutes) knows the difference between a sense of urgency and a state of emergency. There's a sense of urgency when things need to get done; when we have somewhere to be; or when there's an impending deadline. There's a state of emergency when the thing that needed to be done unexpectedly wasn't; when we should have been somewhere yesterday, last week, or last year; and when the deadline is upon us.  The state of emergency arises from the unexpected and often from the unknown. A sense of urgency can become an emergency when it's not addressed; the mess is made; and the clean-up crew has been called in.

For years, I thrived in a general state of emergency. Cases didn't get to my floor unless there was a mess to clean-up, or an unexpected deadline of today. I typed fast; I read faster; I skimmed e-mails and deleted the ones related to office business, pro bono service, and fun. I put off going to the bathroom until there was a state of emergency on occasion.  (No really, a friend and I had a running joke about leaving the building for lunch needing a bathroom break and waiting until the last minute when we got back to work.) On more than one occasion, I twitched my nose and whispered, "Calling Doctor Bombay, emergency, emergency, come right away!" It didn't work out for me, but that didn't stop me from trying again at least one or ten more times.

It wasn't healthy. A state of emergency should be a temporary state--a crunch, a real pickle, a bind. Long-term states of emergency are hazardous to my health, or so I'm learning.

I'm about two months out of private practice and a million miles away from it. I sleep well now. Gone are the exam dreams and the night panics about fantasy documents.  I have energy to play Frisbee out back every night. My skin is clearer, and my eyes are brighter.

I miss some things about private practice. I miss my ladies. We had lunch this week, and it hit me how much I miss the camaraderie among young lady lawyers. We were our own support group.  I was used to soup, salad, gossip, and war stories at lunch.  Now? Lunch is more frequently soup and articles about pro bono bankruptcy clinics (which I'm secretly and not so secretly super excited about).  I miss the free pop and tea that went with private practice, and once the Thunder season hits, I bet I'll miss the occasional trip to the suite too. Private practice has its perks.

My days now have a sense of urgency. Urgency in that I'm beginning to understand exactly how many people float through the legal system every day with no assistance and no way to get any assistance. Urgency in that I can see first hand the concerns facing our students as they're sent into a tough job market. There is a sense of urgency that makes me want to read articles about pro bono bankruptcy clinics and watch TED talks on interview tactics while I put on my make-up in the morning.

I know I'll have my states of emergency. I'll lose sleep and energy. But the states of emergency will have an end. At that end? A sense of satisfaction that I haven't felt in a long time and the knowledge that I've helped a real live person, be it a client or a student.

I haven't twitched my nose yet, but I'm not afraid to try it again. Because, this job is a whole new world--and it seems as though all kinds of magical things may happen.