tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86857632835906616722024-02-19T17:29:51.686-08:00team johnsonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger206125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-59457681180940754992011-09-08T20:44:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:55:19.494-07:00Chinese Silk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU5BS47J_OcWDP992rc2y6XlrCM6NFMFhseFMe1cXILunaUFp6PaF8fl5yWW93ezdFrGjJBtdKqwdTAJ90IUVe90wj_VyNW_MHsX-uWT4U9m3_pySaGaFyT6ztfhWRCLvyuMxc3qxeD4Y/s1600/IMG_1957.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizU5BS47J_OcWDP992rc2y6XlrCM6NFMFhseFMe1cXILunaUFp6PaF8fl5yWW93ezdFrGjJBtdKqwdTAJ90IUVe90wj_VyNW_MHsX-uWT4U9m3_pySaGaFyT6ztfhWRCLvyuMxc3qxeD4Y/s400/IMG_1957.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650201718709644050" /></a><br />What is Micah up to? I've had to really make an effort to spend more time with him and that's not because he's hard - it's the exact opposite. It's because he's so easy. It's because I'd rather take the hard job (the two older ones, or dealing with repair people - which happens at an annoying rate!) So I'm trying something new, I'm starting to boss Ms. Connie around more and be firm - I figure that if I'm not going to a place called work I'm going to have it all go as close to what I'd prefer as possible. One of the other things I've learned lately is that I"m going to do what's right, but first and foremost I;m going to do what's best for my family and what's best for me - I looked around and it seems that's what everybody else is doing and I feel like a fool lover here trying to do the right things which is ALWAYS the harder road. So, Isaiah isn't going to lame basketball practice on Wednesday, if his coaches were better and the Y was closer - than maybe I would feel differently - but the Y is a good 30 to 35 minutes away and his coaches SUCK, as sweet as they are - they suck and it's a waste of my time and his so he's going to play on Saturday and not go to practice ala Alan Iverson. It's what's best for me, so for now, it's what's best for him. Ok, back to Micah who is nine months and starting to stand up and tonight was body slamming his chest into the crib - which was a little like some crazy horror movie. He's a strong boy who doesn't cry very often and smiles a lot and who will be even more cute when those rashes disappear completely from the side of his face. Golly, I love these kids as crazy as they make me - God, just grant me a little more patience, please.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-85255835706430103782011-09-08T20:29:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:42:31.139-07:00As for Isaiah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDIeDTvFdgs9Goibo8vuRFqL46h5wrQiT6YE6x9DpfkhWpXsV909I7NcBa7A82n-BBRHSulNLz4nEdqKMCTsTR67qBeCaU8s5hm21W41KISImVhr7Ly4pkqza-FZBSkStm0wt6_ZhLCd-/s1600/IMG_2020.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDIeDTvFdgs9Goibo8vuRFqL46h5wrQiT6YE6x9DpfkhWpXsV909I7NcBa7A82n-BBRHSulNLz4nEdqKMCTsTR67qBeCaU8s5hm21W41KISImVhr7Ly4pkqza-FZBSkStm0wt6_ZhLCd-/s400/IMG_2020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650198318273285522" /></a><br />Wouldn't it be nice to sit here even just a few nights a week, maybe even with a glass of wine and capture some of the random moments of the day. It might help my memory and I always find it satisfying to write down a little bit about these fleeting moments. I swear I'll remember a look or a way they pronounced something, but I don't because their are so many beautiful and frustrating things happening everyday. I won a bike helmet today - funny and random, right and not really about Isaiah but there's not enough time to keep my own journal so I will tuck little things I think and feel into their journal - because for now it's all about them. And I'm not doing all this stuff for them, not really. All the things I do are for me because I feel it's best for them - what they really want is to watch TV all day and drink fake juice from juice boxes and eat chips. But I'm a mommy and can't let that happen - so I drag them to the beach and on walks and make them sit down and force them to listen to me read them a story when all they really want is to jump around and yell and scream and push each other or hug on Micah. SO what did Isaiah do today - so much. Well today was his first day in the Peaceknicks, he's no longer a squirrel. He's officially a big boy. I had to think today of the peacenicks nap and they do, in fact he'll nap in Kindergarten too with Fanahi who is going to favor the hell out of him and I don't mind one bit. He will have a better self esteem because he is loved by her, and that will make him a better person and a kinder man. One of my jobs is to make sure they have access to the people that love them for that very reason. My kids and all kids actually, need to see the joy on people's faces when they walk in the room and I can say my kids have that. They have people who care about what they have to say. These days Isaiah is into Lightening McQueen and it's not because he loved Cars 2, he didn't. In fact, he feel asleep and so did I. I'm guessing one or a few of the kids at Happyland at into Cars 2 and he got sucked in with them - it's cute how he makes this racing sound and wants ot tell us over and over again about how fast he is and how he's the fastest and how whenever he sees a brightly painted car he assumes it's a race car even if it's Mini Cooper. He talks loudly and often - and I have guilt from wanting to tell him to hush for a bit so I can hear a song or just zone out because soon enough I'll be pulling the words out of him which is what I already feel happening with Noah who has always seemed older than she is. Always. The last few days Isaiah will tell me he has a surprise for me just when he can sense that I'm at my witts end with the tow of them and he comes to me and kisses me on my lips and it works - it softens me every time. Noah is learning to apologize when she had made me mad and when I ask her today why she was apologizing she said, "Because I don't want to be in trouble." Which was good enough for me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-13926208351710450982011-09-08T20:25:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:26:22.850-07:00First Days<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_I_yxrXhzi29HaM9ViixZ8Dk_EdakR9FiHRCAYd8nkPGBrCg8Ao2bIy6sC3WaixCRXsB1IQ1hNlh37veft_YxMd0JPU6tbshbqeY2jdcRn4ZTDA-Hhh0VbYwtgnKHzkthsN2WtSwc1Et/s1600/firstday.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_I_yxrXhzi29HaM9ViixZ8Dk_EdakR9FiHRCAYd8nkPGBrCg8Ao2bIy6sC3WaixCRXsB1IQ1hNlh37veft_YxMd0JPU6tbshbqeY2jdcRn4ZTDA-Hhh0VbYwtgnKHzkthsN2WtSwc1Et/s400/firstday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650196026895915970" /></a><br />Today is what, umm. Thursday. So the first day of school was the day before yesterday. The summer came and went so fast we didn't have the time to do all the things on the lists of things we wanted to do this summer. Noah made it during her last week of kindergarten with me at King's Road while we shared a breakfast sandwich on our way up to Community. I feel a little guilty, but we had a good summer - but it's all happening to fast - the days pass with blinks of my eyes. My head hits the pillow and it's morning. So the question becomes, how do we slow it all down. Do less. Get frustrated less, worry less, be patient more - do they have a pill for that. There's definitely a mantra for that. Anyway, back to Noah and her first day. WHen I picked her up yesterday at the same bus route (with a promise to myself to always be on time this year,) I was excited to hear how her first day went and lamenting yet again that the summer flew by. I stood by the door happy to see Yasmyn and Ali from Happyland there too, to find Noah hot, baret in and sweater in her backpack, sweaty and grouchy because she was worn out. She did say, "First grade is WAY easier than kindergarten." Which made me laugh and I knew that Fanahi would be happy to hear that she was so tough! She also was excited to be in the same class with Leila who she said this year was def. her BFF and she used that, BFF. Noah is smart and picked up on how Leila was more receptive to her and I was proud of my daughter for being able to read people. She seems to like her teacher and when I asked her how her day went she said, "Andre took a picture of me." ANdre is the 3rd or 4th grader who when he showed up to the garage sale last May Noah pulled me aside and said, "I like him," not really knowing what that meant but knowing that she thought he was different than the other boys and girls she liked at school. When I saw him my first thought was, good, he's cute! I just got all three of them down with plans on how to make it more efficient tomorrow night - which is what I do with everything. Oh no, Micah is back up - returning from China has thrown him off, or maybe it's the heat, or the air conditioner, or he's teething - who really knows.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-56990677672498738702011-03-31T21:09:00.000-07:002011-03-31T21:14:09.395-07:00Noah's reading...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTKf5HB1eeVmG_bEocmRWTYUhIGwQZPlNsFo-K_SEoUDVlAZESd7S-hIgNOHLUK_uRxiLD1-bu1w875qM5wG23Axqx5eRA9XsKQkPL0mxHyRVilQaAn_eLzLrzETTNzw6OWd8anOdHu0t/s1600/IMG_3370.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTKf5HB1eeVmG_bEocmRWTYUhIGwQZPlNsFo-K_SEoUDVlAZESd7S-hIgNOHLUK_uRxiLD1-bu1w875qM5wG23Axqx5eRA9XsKQkPL0mxHyRVilQaAn_eLzLrzETTNzw6OWd8anOdHu0t/s400/IMG_3370.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590462880519601026" /></a><br />She's been reading for a while now. But these days, she's really reading. I wonder what she'll be. I wonder what she'll struggle with in school. I wonder what will be her favorite subject. I think mine was math - but I can't really remember. It probably had more to do with a good teacher than anything else. I wonder if she'll really go to The City School. For now she enjoys telling people what to do. She enjoys holding, burping, and picking at Micah. Micah's crying so I'm done for tonight. Glad to have had the few moments and catch the magic.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-66665589518359741372011-03-31T20:51:00.000-07:002011-03-31T21:08:35.862-07:00Risotto<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwmSW_Qwpg7I1EXNkwpdvMirFdQaIPE7XjMu-dHcreeGW5R8TPxKJ0FcaQaZ0kNujSiJgA78CO71LrbPiXlcRJHdl3UiTTJEbsy6NZM4Px2Dgaz__DqtPX4UOnpw7RYdJobEXoY9wk3-r/s1600/DSC00273.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwmSW_Qwpg7I1EXNkwpdvMirFdQaIPE7XjMu-dHcreeGW5R8TPxKJ0FcaQaZ0kNujSiJgA78CO71LrbPiXlcRJHdl3UiTTJEbsy6NZM4Px2Dgaz__DqtPX4UOnpw7RYdJobEXoY9wk3-r/s400/DSC00273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590462130708254130" /></a><br />Noah is a week away from being six. I feel like she just turned five, and I know that's what all us moms say. But it's true. The time is flying and I can't seem to stop it. The one way I've figured out a way to slow things down a bit is to cook with the kids - even if it takes me twice as long. I was reminded of this last week while Noah was on the computer looking at old videos of her as a baby. These videos are too hard for me to watch because I don't remember her that way and it stirs the fear that I won't remember her this way either and the way she is now is so wonderful I want to hold on to it - but I know the best we can hope for is for all of us to grown old. Anyway, I digress again about how life is too short. I can't help it, it's on my mind all the time. So back to last week hen Noah was watching a video of herself at 3 which is HALF the age she is now. She was washing the dishes or at least she thought she was. She was standing at the sink and pouring water from one cup to another and there were bubbles and she was pleased to be in the kitchen with me. Most nights when I cook she asks to help. Isaiah asks too and I'm usually in such a mad dash to get everyone fed so we can move on to the next thing which is baths that I say no and rush through it. But tonight I remembered how happy Noah was in the video washing the dishes so I asked for her help. I asked her to cut mushrooms. I needed them cut and cutting is something they both aspire to do. Mushrooms can be cut with a butter knife, safe enough for me. So there they stood, Noah on the stool, Isaiah on the Ikea child chair that's falling apart. They were both so proud of themselves. I was proud of me too. I was proud to be in the kitchen (one of my favorite places,) making Italian food with my favorite people. I was proud that I remembered what was important and choose it over the task at hand - cook and feed folks. I had to watch Isaiah who kept trying to eat the bacon - but that's nothing new. I have to remember to cook with them more often. I pray they remind me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-15388858249438560332011-03-30T21:47:00.000-07:002011-03-30T22:06:05.807-07:00The Good LIfe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8M-LU2iCkiOpgChWjxGjsyd5t4kviQLlQVVYNpaBgZxlpDz9WQgo_wAg0fwZt4IF8zaz7Cwale53DHsFr3sKbiu4jumrrW7VHlMbEC0FirSbPT-BYN9pqkMGV6TBu4dV5SuuHJ6cbfaZ/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8M-LU2iCkiOpgChWjxGjsyd5t4kviQLlQVVYNpaBgZxlpDz9WQgo_wAg0fwZt4IF8zaz7Cwale53DHsFr3sKbiu4jumrrW7VHlMbEC0FirSbPT-BYN9pqkMGV6TBu4dV5SuuHJ6cbfaZ/s400/IMG_0730.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590101554995716834" /></a><br />So today, Wednesday, is like all the other Wednesdays. It's the day that I promise myself I'll get to bed by 9pm. That the exhaustion that I've been fighting all day will sweep me off my feet and I won't have a choice but fall deeply asleep early enough to remain sane in all the night's disruptions. It's also the day that I"ll get the kids to bed by 7pm so that we'll have time for stories and prayers and songs and cuddles and kisses. It's the night I'll walk out of the kid's room at 7:15 and have two hours to have a conversation with Broderick and do this - write something about the day that will fade from my memory by the morning. It's the day Ms. Connie won't be up until 8:30 in the kitchen cleaning up our mess so I won't feel guilty or lazy. But it's not this day - it's a version of all the other days. It's a Wednesday. The kids have gymnastics and although I dream about having dinner ready before I leave for the stinky gym so that when we walk in the door at 6 a real meal will be hot and ready for us. Of all the dreaming and planning I do about how the day should flow, one would guess that I'd have it down - but I don't. The truth is that although it's not the day I plan for, it's the day I'm grateful for. It's another day with my family safe. It's another day where there's clean water and good food. It's another day with the helpful hands of Ms. Connie. It's another day in this beautiful house. It's another day without an argument. It's another day I'm reluctant to let go of and get in bed. And there is a small win, 3 bags of breast for a day when Micah can handle the cow's milk protein and this... a token from a regular day that I will look back as perfect and hopefully remember but be so happy in that moment that I won't long for these days...because they are some good days.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-67813784390029475852011-03-20T21:28:00.000-07:002011-03-20T21:36:19.518-07:00it's been a long time...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYw3jYW6Kds8qmlxd7lD5wUK7eBnllwx7aPS3eyHXRRNSbKXStrKu3DPXHF8S2mtYeoEPDBO9Pzutu1UUPYPG8wT2PZJQZIdS4U8EN_lIrYSXdPUxeOp267txWHxV56_A00kSfwgubkk5D/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYw3jYW6Kds8qmlxd7lD5wUK7eBnllwx7aPS3eyHXRRNSbKXStrKu3DPXHF8S2mtYeoEPDBO9Pzutu1UUPYPG8wT2PZJQZIdS4U8EN_lIrYSXdPUxeOp267txWHxV56_A00kSfwgubkk5D/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586385951430725394" /></a><br />okay, the newest version of me wants to start back writing. i can't call myself a writer because I don't write enough and I don't write because I don't have the time - but I want to have the time so I'm going to find. I'm so tired of being the person who is going to start being focused, but never gets it done. I desperately want to manage my time better so I can have time for all the things that are important to me. It has recently become important to me to do nothing - why? Because Noah needs to see me doing nothing so he has the freedom and courage to do nothing. My mom and I are slaves to whatever it is that keeps us from relaxing. I want to sit on the floor and make puzzles, I want to cook more with the kids and I want to sit on the couch and flip through a cooking magazine. I want to sit. <br /><br />Today was a beautiful day because I did one thing, well two - church and the grocery store. Any maybe that's the trick - to do one thing a day and stop worrying about being everybody's friend and available to everyone. It was a great day because it seemed long and I got to really spend time with the kids and I got to sit through church, which I haven't done in what seems like a year. Isaiah and I went grocery shopping and it's those moments when I feel I'm totally available to him. Then I came home and Noah and I cooked. She peeled and cleaned the shrimp and I made a real dinner with fresh vegetables and herbs and we had time to bake cookies after - a dream day!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-80783000143458067462010-06-09T18:59:00.000-07:002010-06-09T19:10:00.642-07:00Vaccines & Daddy Luv<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1bxvoOrFsUaExWSSH9gOzR3Nn6RPP1PH1SF3NSFD3z80VdpJRXnmPQSZ91FJrYxx_sfYEPyby00NahYT5z9eUXsTwKbrb9vGdcTJTSIJwQFdeySLOs4hnmbWF1XeSUY6RS2NKUYl1v4N/s1600/DSC_0464.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1bxvoOrFsUaExWSSH9gOzR3Nn6RPP1PH1SF3NSFD3z80VdpJRXnmPQSZ91FJrYxx_sfYEPyby00NahYT5z9eUXsTwKbrb9vGdcTJTSIJwQFdeySLOs4hnmbWF1XeSUY6RS2NKUYl1v4N/s400/DSC_0464.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480961445063254530" /></a><br />Today the kids went to their 3 and 5 year pediatric appointments. I told Noah a little before lunch and she was excited. She then got Isaiah excited and I could NOT control them during their visit. Noah wanted to touch and try everything and Isaiah was excited to jump up and down on the examination table and look at himself in the mirror. Now, Noah has been vaccinated, well..sort of. She has had a total of three shots her entire life. She is way behind for what is recommended for kindergarten. It's something where I am completely on the fence. Well, maybe not completely. I lean much more towards not vaccinating at all - which has been my policy until recently. Isaiah is now 3 and I feel he is out of the danger zone. He can talk to me about what he's feeling and I'm more confident that he will not have a reaction. I pray I am right. Well they both had to get a shot today and I expected it to be awful and thought I might shed a few tears too. Noah broke down completely and cried for some time after. Isaiah on the other hand didn't seemed phased and was more concerned with his bandaid. Noah sat in the back seat of the car with a tear stained face and seemed so unhappy. So we decided to call daddy and let him know about her heartache and when he said hello to her - her face lit up. She was soon giggling and forgot all about her two shots.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-81355946607222776342010-06-09T10:35:00.000-07:002010-06-09T10:48:31.742-07:00Big kids now!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXneecvNbxgM9WFjRsMG182cvSwK591YPNrLlh7tiGkJqSa_zGAqwvBsHx6nS7YYrgPvLT5aKmx4MqCZu37CT01i5nOjkGZdZG79-21nEmycPB7Rry_ANDXiK_ImYfMEp61zu-mN4sCzeu/s1600/IMG00146.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXneecvNbxgM9WFjRsMG182cvSwK591YPNrLlh7tiGkJqSa_zGAqwvBsHx6nS7YYrgPvLT5aKmx4MqCZu37CT01i5nOjkGZdZG79-21nEmycPB7Rry_ANDXiK_ImYfMEp61zu-mN4sCzeu/s320/IMG00146.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480830108901151762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyy0YE6hUf0zonCa_1z2BpE8l6kGUcx3yaYlCL_VRd_qKQQZP9sYtNEiiN2w6L2gvl4_zMo2L1HAJi8qvjovkMg95A5WESBGIup7QvZ_9qqP74s_b9AORvKDP_esVHGWauxGOleR91RC3C/s1600/IMG_3275.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyy0YE6hUf0zonCa_1z2BpE8l6kGUcx3yaYlCL_VRd_qKQQZP9sYtNEiiN2w6L2gvl4_zMo2L1HAJi8qvjovkMg95A5WESBGIup7QvZ_9qqP74s_b9AORvKDP_esVHGWauxGOleR91RC3C/s320/IMG_3275.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480830089188305058" /></a><br /><br />How and when did they turn three and five?! It's an amazing time where I can take them on an airplane and not have a nervous breakdown. We flew a few weeks ago and are now getting ready to fly again. Thankfully we have 2 DVDs players and they're old enough where they will sit and watch movies the whole flight. On the last flight Isaiah sat with me and he's usually more difficult, but as the plane took off Isaiah started getting a fever. I asked the woman behind me if she had any Motrin or Advil and she did. And then he passed out and I read, and napped, and watched The Last Station and then cried. Noah sat with Broderick and flew asleep on cue as the plane landed. Right now the kids are about to take a walk with their babies. Ms. Martha is taking them out. They are fighting over the stroller and the more stuff (pillows and blankets) that Noah gets, the more stuff Isaiah will simply die without. Isaiah has been saying "I don't want____" about every five minutes. He also announces whenever he smells something, anything. Noah is practically a teenager and mostly wants to play learning games on the computer and play with her hair.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-90925659130518781832010-03-28T21:48:00.001-07:002010-03-29T22:08:10.114-07:00How to Train Your Dragon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-kgFf5Pn5fNFkI_3cwJtpG5QDjleplzVTZN6DBqOq8FhtMWhFS_S1oppE2LROBS-ptcU9IuTXjpdqe9wE_WMaYhdKrSYmNIsv25fzNNRkYi8q1gJqHAgH00TjRVpQ2dIT3XJJ23Ft4nX/s1600/IMG_2914.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-kgFf5Pn5fNFkI_3cwJtpG5QDjleplzVTZN6DBqOq8FhtMWhFS_S1oppE2LROBS-ptcU9IuTXjpdqe9wE_WMaYhdKrSYmNIsv25fzNNRkYi8q1gJqHAgH00TjRVpQ2dIT3XJJ23Ft4nX/s320/IMG_2914.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453913625229962546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPOSlv4AFm1rowcEOO_zz2t-thQ-m0-k21ZRyQiRX77PxVZNouBNiBEANL4j5UGku2ql_OxBrQhXqBUl8ZPs1A-urlkl5T0nQ4vzfVACq5pnqv7ImMBNN4Inb7C7aPyqPttUMOMMB0s_D/s1600/IMG_2913.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPOSlv4AFm1rowcEOO_zz2t-thQ-m0-k21ZRyQiRX77PxVZNouBNiBEANL4j5UGku2ql_OxBrQhXqBUl8ZPs1A-urlkl5T0nQ4vzfVACq5pnqv7ImMBNN4Inb7C7aPyqPttUMOMMB0s_D/s320/IMG_2913.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453913613635286498" /></a><br /><br />On Sunday we got up and made breakfast. No matter what I'm cooking Noah asks to help, and if Noah asks to help then it follows that Isaiah will ask. Sometimes they don't even ask. Noah grabs the stool of of the bathroom which is smaller and easy to handle. Since Isaiah follows Noah's lead he gets stuck with the bigger stool by the front door. It takes all his strength to move the two step stool into the kitchen. Most times I'm so worried he's going to trip or drop it on his fat, little square foot that I carry it the rest of the way. They both have to wash their hands which they do with only one asking, because they love cooking. They put on their aprons and if I'm not wearing mine, Noah bugs me until I put it on. Isaiah usually gets a bowl with a whisk and some flour or rice in it to mix and he will mix until you drag him from it. This Sunday we were making a breakfast pie. I've discovered the delicious beauty of pie crust and make a lot of vegetable pie. Since we are decorating hollowed out eggs on Wednesday night I had to carefully break the top part of the egg off and slowly let it drizzle out. Noah whisked the eggs and broke up a piece of sliced cheese into bits. She washed the asparagus and hung out with me until the pie was ready to go in the oven. Broderick claimed it was his favorite of my breakfast pies. It contained eggs, cheese (of course,) garlic (of course, of course,) greens and onions, of and halved cherry tomatoes around the edges for even more color. And he was right, it was delicious. After I out the pie int he oven I hustled to get the kids dressed for Alastair's birthday party. While I was int he shower Isaiah and Noah started wrestling, which was sweet and loving BUT, he started wheezing which meant he had to sit with his "breathing machine" which made us 30 minutes late for the party. We were already 30 minutes late because I can't manage time and always HAVE to do something at the last minute. The kids had a blast at the party and ate vegan cupcakes, jumped on the bouncy, snuck and ate cookies, and played with their friends. it was incredibly hot and Isaiah's little cheeks with flush and he took his shoes and socks off because "I'm hot!" We stayed an hour longer than the evite suggested and stopped at The Farmer's Market on the way home to pick up some produce. This farmer's market is one of the best things to happen to our neighborhood. I'm thrilled there is fresh organic produce every Sunday a stone's throw from my front door. Isaiah fell asleep in the 2 minutes it took to get home and Noah had to be threatened before she finally conceded to sleep which just made he sleep later than I wanted. When they woke up we had a quick dinner of my dad's frozen beef stew. Noah decorated the bags for the home made popcorn which Broderick didn't eat. Isaiah just walked into my bedroom at 10pm and said looked worried because, "I can't find Noah." She was asleep at the end of her bed tucked in pink heart pillows and a soft pink blanket from grandma Pam. I have to convert Isaiah's crib into a toddler bed. I HAVE TO DO IT!! Anyway Broderick and I took the kids to see "How to Train Your Dragon." If anyone has ever wondered who all that outdoor advertising is for - it's for my kids. They know all the movies. Not because they watch TV (which they hardly do,) but because they are suckers for a billboard. Anyway they were as cute as two children could be. We all help hands as we walked in and it make me so happy to be a part of our family. I'm happy a lot, but I was also proud. Everyone was happy and excited and just so darn cute. They both talked throughout the entire movie - but I didn't mind because I know they cant help it, they're my kids and we love to talk and too because they were so excited to share what they were seeing and thinking. Noah thanked her daddy a bunch and just kept saying "Whoever made that movie is an awesome movie maker." She was very proud to have come up with this on her own. We'll see if she remembers that they are called "producers." While they were getting ready for bed, they each took a phone and put it on speaker and recounted every detail and most of the lines from the movie to my mom, John and Jessica. It was one of those moments I hope to etch in my mind and heart forever. It was a perfect time with them.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-84981608406498874362010-03-28T21:33:00.000-07:002010-03-28T21:59:31.604-07:00Depressing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV6QmiuUWoD-54QbTG8PnR3r5KjEM7fTxu5Xp3lMKKbwI2tSfSzxgPTbYuPhb0juAHjCteDWwOVuzW-_jXTNcb9cG6Qei-FYZAsDzhfZOTID-27YwzHGi3W9_h_uYvDh1ClQi_sx5Z9t0/s1600/IMG00123.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV6QmiuUWoD-54QbTG8PnR3r5KjEM7fTxu5Xp3lMKKbwI2tSfSzxgPTbYuPhb0juAHjCteDWwOVuzW-_jXTNcb9cG6Qei-FYZAsDzhfZOTID-27YwzHGi3W9_h_uYvDh1ClQi_sx5Z9t0/s320/IMG00123.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453912571096607602" /></a><br />It's depressing how fast time is zooming by me, and I guess the rest of us too. It's picking up speed each day I add to my life. it seems as if the distance between minutes, hours, weeks and the rest of it are closing in. It's depressing to me that I feel like I just got settled from Christmas and it's Easter, about to be summer. Everything I do is an effort to be more in the moment. All the scheduling, the managing of Ms. Martha's time and energy, the persistent pleas for family to visit is all about cherishing these precious times. I can't tell if I'm living in fear or in consciousness. I can't tell if the awareness that we are all dangling on strings and it's all just a blink is either good for me or detrimental to my peace of mind. This awareness forces me to let go of the petty small stuff and remember some book of rules for life that had two rules; #1. Don't sweat the small stuff. #2 It's all small stuff. So on one hand it's good, but on the other hand I'm sick with worry that I'm not being in the moment enough. I do feel distracted less since this crisis of faith or rather, that the inevitable just dawned on me. It inspired me to see Yellowstone, well that and something the yoga teacher, Clio said. She explained how time seems to be speeding up as we age and that some scientists have researched this and discovered our perception of time is really just the brain's way of recording new information. So when we are encountering something for the first time, the brain slows down to record all the shiny, new details - but by 35 or 40, we are in auto-pilot and our brains have seen everything we do everyday - there's no new information to record. So I thought then, that I need to go someplace new. And I thought about how the kids need space to run around and fresh air, and how I'd love to have a picnic every day on this vacation and just sit in beauty and talk to my family am watch the kids look at beauty. I'm trying to slow down time. I'm trying to go to bed earlier so I'm not a zombie. I'm trying to record these experiences with pictures and this blog is to document the regular stuff we do everyday, because I know someday soon that this moment too will be ancient history. I love life, and I love this life so much - it's just depressing it's going so fast. I am thankful for every moment and pray (more like beg God, for long lives for everyone I love - which is about everyone and that we are healthy and happy and in peace.<br /><br /><br />This picture was taken yesterday when Broderick caved in and took the family to a nursery and we bought trees for our back yard. Isaiah is a funny critter and Noah is clever and strong.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-63027422748321912942010-02-04T21:40:00.000-08:002010-02-04T21:44:51.431-08:00Snow Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffxQG7vcS0zrTIt6vjnMdhahCqoPq_t8Fyr0ByOr52jOM527ZYDFhSHcXBJ43xTzGG4DzqFphsaxHDuBJCmqfs5NzKyIAxqkj2Fre_j6w1xDH5RwiuHi89HmT129Xs-UVnTRgfosh3gz8/s1600-h/IMG_2124.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffxQG7vcS0zrTIt6vjnMdhahCqoPq_t8Fyr0ByOr52jOM527ZYDFhSHcXBJ43xTzGG4DzqFphsaxHDuBJCmqfs5NzKyIAxqkj2Fre_j6w1xDH5RwiuHi89HmT129Xs-UVnTRgfosh3gz8/s320/IMG_2124.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434630336866362418" /></a><br />Snow in Los Angeles, who whatta thunk it? So we the ladies of the square decided to get together and do something a little fun for the kids, having no idea how fancy and expensive it would turn out. It was a hard fought battle through a jungle of opinions and :i would've-s," but we worked through it and almost everybody is talking to each other again. What's so shameful is that it was one of those days when you realize how good you have it. The sun was shining, the hot coco was perfect, most of the the kids I know were laughing riding down sleds with each others. The dads were helping all the kids as if every single one of them was their own. We brought a few changes of clothes, because us LA folk don't have snow suits on tap. It was an amazing day and although I cringe at the thought of having to plan and offend again, I know it will be worth it once again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-87030784623490937302010-02-03T20:32:00.000-08:002010-02-03T20:44:38.777-08:00Noah and her star, nana<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TUDxP5YyOhEfNIgar1yNXINuQ32VoEfCZxP6NkC7wGqxEe1M2lXuIYPUZDd06T0P3Jz5lyySMz2-icwDzMxHzPd624DBJtI6CYdWXv3P2SZkZmxPmvxLMCKrUzIGxXjNJrci3TAODVa0/s1600-h/IMG_2497.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TUDxP5YyOhEfNIgar1yNXINuQ32VoEfCZxP6NkC7wGqxEe1M2lXuIYPUZDd06T0P3Jz5lyySMz2-icwDzMxHzPd624DBJtI6CYdWXv3P2SZkZmxPmvxLMCKrUzIGxXjNJrci3TAODVa0/s320/IMG_2497.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434241829083617906" /></a><br />So I always had a feeling that these Disney movies were damaging our kids. The 16 year old brides, the waist lines the radius of a cheerio and the prince charming saving them. But it's nearly impossible to keep them away from that stuff. It means no trips to the movies, it means no Friday nights with pizza and some quiet time, it means less time with other kids, it means fights with the grandparents who have been waiting to share the insanity of Disney and its products since they were born. So tonight as I was ricking Noah she got very upset and told me she sees pictures in the air. "And not just the giraffe and rhino mommy." Those are the two pictures above the rocking chair. After much assurance she told me she's afraid a witch is going to hurt nana and turn her into a star just like the bug from Princess and the Frog. She doesn't want nana to die while she's just a little kid. Through tears and insecurity about what is the best thing to do and say in that moment i try to explain to her that she is in charge of the pictures she sees. But she wasn't convinced. She said the pictures aren't ever going to go away until she, herself, becomes a star. And although it broke my heart, she's probably right.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-80811447233963663312010-02-03T19:41:00.000-08:002010-02-03T19:52:55.730-08:00A perfect day in a pretty amazing life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIfth6TAB76Vl_YsP89exwBf8UJT2W-X11J1JZajcUQjyXWMstO-hhipt-jK1n3-lCeIYEDv0aD0jGBCClfCE0tAcHslZUvVf5QQFGzN7w1nq6GwVDFmWtSYta_rlM39fwPPnnXeRq5tS/s1600-h/IMG_2494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzIfth6TAB76Vl_YsP89exwBf8UJT2W-X11J1JZajcUQjyXWMstO-hhipt-jK1n3-lCeIYEDv0aD0jGBCClfCE0tAcHslZUvVf5QQFGzN7w1nq6GwVDFmWtSYta_rlM39fwPPnnXeRq5tS/s400/IMG_2494.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434228610568211906" /></a><br /><br /><br />When I'm not moody, or hungry, or jealous I remember how lucky I am. Most of the time I am peaceful and thankful and happy to be exactly where I am. Other days like now, I am tired and feel like my head is going to explode if the kids don't lower their voices. Today was one of those days when they yelled way too much, listened way to little and fought so much my heart has a crack in it now. There are times when I have come to the bottom of my bag of tricks. All the nice ways of saying, Stop what you are doing before I'm tempted to beat you up" are exhausted. It's times like this when I say something through a smile and it makes Noah cry because she knows how angry I am and how mad I am at her. Today was one of those days. I am happy to put them to bed, a little resentful that Broderick is in Miamii partying with women half his age and I;m here in my pjs at the end of my rope. But this picture is from a totally different kind of day. This day I would've trader Broderick for George Clooney or my kids for a Starbucks. This day I was the mother or all mothers. Happy, patient, well dressed and anxious to spend every last second of the day with them. I am lucky and have done a lot of work to make sure I have more of these kinds of days than the days lie today. It's why I have a nanny. It's why I know it's important to write and have a life of my own. But this Sunday at the beach was a delight. I woke up late, too late for church and I only had to ask Broderick once if he wanted to go to Shutters for breakfast and then let the kids run on the beach. Not only did he agree, he agreed whole-heartedly. He didn't do it out of guilt, but because he really wanted to spend time with us. Breakfast was tasty and healthy and the kids didn't break anything, throw anything ot offend anyone. We sat on the beach and I read two articles while they ran in the sand and breathed the fresh air that only the ocean can purify. Broderick fell asleep and I walked the kids to the pier while they chased birds, collected shells and begged me to go to the carnival (which I promised for the next time Nana comes to visit.) We walked back wet, sandy and ready for a nap. They both feel asleep on the way home.... what could be more perfect than that?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-80869486361409783592010-02-03T19:25:00.000-08:002010-02-03T19:29:12.309-08:00When Georgetown came to Cali<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinT4EHratQuYQhvrixAMBjam6nAESbglZFP7R3Us1Ik_dNH6RkUl3VA6FCBtxjmlOSxbyXGif9tYj324Joq_nFlJxDJdbfDWKUUzxqC5WHu7jf8VMbYfOpRCKvc7enZnuF_27Sna1Wg7wk/s1600-h/IMG_2028.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinT4EHratQuYQhvrixAMBjam6nAESbglZFP7R3Us1Ik_dNH6RkUl3VA6FCBtxjmlOSxbyXGif9tYj324Joq_nFlJxDJdbfDWKUUzxqC5WHu7jf8VMbYfOpRCKvc7enZnuF_27Sna1Wg7wk/s200/IMG_2028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434224605914540466" /></a><br />This was taken months ago when the Hoyas came to play in some UCLA tournament. The kids jumped on the bed in the hotel room and ate fruit roll ups and bad pizza. It's always a joy to see the Thompson kids with Noah and Isaiah. They are a good influence and the closest thing they have to cousins. Isaiah has asked a few times to go to John John's house. Not realizing it's all the way in DC. The other day I called to speak to Monica and John told me to tell Noah and Isaiah that he loved and missed them. See, I told you, soo sweet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-48551120942584094252010-02-03T19:11:00.000-08:002010-02-03T19:25:17.031-08:00This hair thang<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietjhRt8iC-VwS6ylvW3nLJu7emsLkvQ8cCTRsNTh_PeB8dSxTnr7TlbEGav7yZULJkZZpw_hWXVb3eRY_yBE1SvQrn9smJfNzL8_mXPd3_8twxj2dQQ1sXW4Ettb0sRGCeSNneyK9TRh-/s1600-h/IMG00189-20100108-1352.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietjhRt8iC-VwS6ylvW3nLJu7emsLkvQ8cCTRsNTh_PeB8dSxTnr7TlbEGav7yZULJkZZpw_hWXVb3eRY_yBE1SvQrn9smJfNzL8_mXPd3_8twxj2dQQ1sXW4Ettb0sRGCeSNneyK9TRh-/s320/IMG00189-20100108-1352.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434220867666215378" /></a><br /><br /><br />When I was pregnant with Isaiah I thought I wanted a girl. I say "thought" because of course I was wrong. I got exactly what I wanted - the best boy ever. But I "thought" i wanted a boy for various reasons. For one because I always hoped to have three and I wanted it just like I grew up, two girls first and then a boy. I also thought I'd have a better chance of convincing Broderick of adopting if we had two girls. I've assumed if we adopted it would be a boy. AND I had a girl and wanted exactly what I had and loved. So one day right after I had had Isaiah I was walking into the house and ran into my neighbors cousin and she asked what i had had. She knew, or I told her that I wanted another girl. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "No, two heads of hair to do? It's much better this way." How right she was. Noah's hair is one of the most gorgeous things about it. Since she was a baby, it's what everyone notices. It's wild, a different and beautiful. BUT!! But, it takes at least 20 minutes every day to brush. As I am writing this she is whining behind me, begging me to straighten her hair. Now, i am not some crazy white mom who has put it into her head that straight hair is better. What has happened is a mixture of influences. I use a flat iron to get the frizz out. Most of the girls at her school have long straight hair. Now, I have at least 8 books that talk about the beauty of ethnic hair. I have African books about hair, I have vintage books about hair. I have clever funny books about hair and all of them emphasize how important it is to love your hair. I tell her all the time I love her curls and how beautiful hair takes work. I have had her dad tell her the same thing in his way. But, honestly, I tired of dealing with it. About 2 years ago I came very close to cutting it short, but a friend stepped in and begged me not to. I'm afraid Noah is going to look back at all the pictures of her as a child and notice a fuzzy halo surrounding her head. But I've seen the light. After this same friend suggested getting her hair straightened for special events of holidays, I felt the pressure ease. I needed a black woman to give me permission to "do something" to her hair. I have since done the following. I've taken her to JC Penny and had it straightened. And I had braids put in it. Both for the low. low cost of about $60. The braids lasted two weeks and were cute, and fun and so, so easy. The straight hair last for a little under a week and Noah bawled when it came time to wash it. It's an interesting thing this hair thing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-79975007354106227302009-10-13T11:31:00.000-07:002009-10-13T11:36:09.644-07:00Fall is here<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBY2CraEBkc-oIslm_B4n2lvClmz2iwxYGabuMkESSsRGaDcfcIDg0W55jSOrL8rZUzFJM7Ns0o6zNamEeSYOPagcJ4k-X1_m-E3Uj6DRTyrG2qmcZj5a8Xhn8wJf3_gnhKiOLjh4lNN4/s1600-h/IMG_1176.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBY2CraEBkc-oIslm_B4n2lvClmz2iwxYGabuMkESSsRGaDcfcIDg0W55jSOrL8rZUzFJM7Ns0o6zNamEeSYOPagcJ4k-X1_m-E3Uj6DRTyrG2qmcZj5a8Xhn8wJf3_gnhKiOLjh4lNN4/s320/IMG_1176.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392154109827758466" /></a><br />It cooled off in what seems like one day. One day it was hot and the next night there was a cool chill in the air once the sun went down. Today it is raining and I'm enjoying the gloomy-ness that we don't get too often in Los Angeles. Isaiah and Noah put their slippers on in the morning and the moment they saw me put my rope on, that's when they've decided that MUST have their ropes every morning too. We go downstairs and have hot tea or smoothies as we wait for the rest of the world to wake up.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-28308342696524201322009-10-13T08:27:00.000-07:002009-10-13T11:29:49.381-07:00Isaiah and Halloween<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQd2OnLZjCZTw1cqYV85pMB6AFBHdqVWkMe1fXlx1l8SQjvqMSz9kh3RJY4HlHjaxXv9TnxbcfrYs28rR4QHRugsRSxZR8uwcXWSKX6kADHK9V6_jKPscinscHhag1vQHw3wY8eviNbbXZ/s1600-h/IMG_1212.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQd2OnLZjCZTw1cqYV85pMB6AFBHdqVWkMe1fXlx1l8SQjvqMSz9kh3RJY4HlHjaxXv9TnxbcfrYs28rR4QHRugsRSxZR8uwcXWSKX6kADHK9V6_jKPscinscHhag1vQHw3wY8eviNbbXZ/s400/IMG_1212.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392106827393076514" /></a><br /><br />Valerie passed down a fun Halloween book about a witch who moves into a house and one by one, gets rid of 10 ghosts. It's cute and sort of a mystery and helps the kids practice their numbers. I care about that, but they don't. What they like is to find the ghosts hiding in the house and Isaiah says he's scared until I ask if I should put the book away and then, no, he's fine. He asks where the book is each morning when I go get him out of his crib. He talks about the witch and the ghosts and the spiders all day. He asks to go visit the witch around the corner at a house with lots of Halloween decorations. There are a few ghosts and the "black" ghost, as Isaiah calls it, screams. Isaiah says, "Black says AHHHHH!!!!" There is another ghost who he claims says, "Isaiah, I want you." Not sure where he got that but it's cute none the less.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-34428105468828198942009-10-13T08:25:00.000-07:002009-10-13T08:26:43.297-07:00Martha's Vineyard<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gCoLamnqaSGOYsDs_PPHPA1MCF7h17Gi0vitQ9Il3VH1G3Of-_74x6NDQcGZ1ECzRis4kEs23YMfvbb2-ZdlFluoWmDNJ-eCF9vf8KY6K_6-FQJ1LETqQ-0-B42nxRBZpzu02TpNgVzv/s1600-h/IMG_0096.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gCoLamnqaSGOYsDs_PPHPA1MCF7h17Gi0vitQ9Il3VH1G3Of-_74x6NDQcGZ1ECzRis4kEs23YMfvbb2-ZdlFluoWmDNJ-eCF9vf8KY6K_6-FQJ1LETqQ-0-B42nxRBZpzu02TpNgVzv/s320/IMG_0096.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392106188346467666" /></a><br />The kids love the beach. I love the fresh air but worry about them running into the water without me. I guess because I always need something to worry about. Living in LA, we really should go to the beach more than we do, which is never. We go to the beach when we are out of town. Funny.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-18171904177703459692009-10-13T07:59:00.000-07:002009-10-13T08:23:24.474-07:00The weather girl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37c13ggHO75IB_kqv6fvbg4CVge-G_NMECreMXZK7xNvN9lwgNnxaxjBcuN7eNrMK6SPjm0T61SEe3aHxvpGADrP6mSjreg4hwBJiRM_e6bwqASabf-GfsFKHfYi38iOq5wB6ih6TKU5p/s1600-h/IMG_1118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37c13ggHO75IB_kqv6fvbg4CVge-G_NMECreMXZK7xNvN9lwgNnxaxjBcuN7eNrMK6SPjm0T61SEe3aHxvpGADrP6mSjreg4hwBJiRM_e6bwqASabf-GfsFKHfYi38iOq5wB6ih6TKU5p/s320/IMG_1118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392105402098273954" /></a><br />So Noah, Noah, Noah. Noah likes to tell me she's hot so she can open her window in the car or hot in bed so she can be naked save for her panties. I don't buy it. Maybe sometimes, but mostly I think it's her trying to be in control of herself and struggling with the fact that she's four and mommy is in charge. She's rarely cold, always hot or itchy. Because either of these ailments allows her to change her clothes, and this is something that she's been trying to do since she was two. So yesterday after I pick her up from school we are driving over to her dance class and she tells me, "I'm hot." I nod because she's always telling me she's hot. Then she says, "I'm hot. I think we are getting close to the equator." You can't argue with that.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-72080018712893590312009-10-06T13:08:00.000-07:002009-10-06T13:14:01.006-07:00Good Hair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TMq4UeMyEiXQFXTwT08-io0lrfmZnVn3SoDkkMb1b1XNY-wZKtHFOLuAgPBkRde4BPM4GU5Xa44_6qBfs2vs0GkK51CY1fGUTIh6jIAowQAdlzK36siT1Y-EVMoFUp8ip7VvXly38jUH/s1600-h/IMG_1169.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TMq4UeMyEiXQFXTwT08-io0lrfmZnVn3SoDkkMb1b1XNY-wZKtHFOLuAgPBkRde4BPM4GU5Xa44_6qBfs2vs0GkK51CY1fGUTIh6jIAowQAdlzK36siT1Y-EVMoFUp8ip7VvXly38jUH/s320/IMG_1169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389581664462952626" /></a><br /><br /><br />Noah's hair has been an evolution. As i notice that a whole year has passed since a birthday or holiday I notice that Noah has more hair and it's even more curly. It's beautiful and it is defiently her glory, other than her spirit. She is complimented daily about her curls. But she still asks every once in a while for it to be straight. It takes more work that I ever imaged to keep it tame - which isn't really my objective. Even if it's wild, which she loves, I want it to be "done." I want her to learn to take pride in her apperance and that your hair is something you do everyday - although I'm teaching her something I dont practice - since it's 1pm and I still haven't brused my hair.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-64324161983862021212009-10-01T15:31:00.000-07:002009-10-06T13:03:37.062-07:00Noah doesn't usually get spanked, but...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovBXrPTrONheegOJpUNc4hzmuwwUDayQAu22dvA3pj0MPSdfpt4o1Q2IuKfCMdzeMgluG_larDRCtnWU7w8XXUq_-wBziwlrieN_VNRGY40ancC9PmnFW6wtCnXK71W7TJGtlF_SxFBdS/s1600-h/IMG_1162.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovBXrPTrONheegOJpUNc4hzmuwwUDayQAu22dvA3pj0MPSdfpt4o1Q2IuKfCMdzeMgluG_larDRCtnWU7w8XXUq_-wBziwlrieN_VNRGY40ancC9PmnFW6wtCnXK71W7TJGtlF_SxFBdS/s200/IMG_1162.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389580024523501410" /></a><br />One of the problems I've always had with Noah is that she is sneaky and I couldn't like it less. I work so hard in hopes that she will understand how destructive and offensive it is to be sneaky. So yesterday after we get home from Marcella's house I ask the kids, as I always do, to wash their hands as soon as we get in the house. Noah comes in and tells me she washed her hands. I'm no genius, but I know she couldn't have possibly washed her hands in the 30 seconds she walked back to the bathroom. I ask her again to go wash her hands. She then walks back out and tells me she's washed her hands. I know she hasn't washed them yet, mostly because four-year-olds are not good at lying. But she's curious and asks me how I knew. I say that Im a mommy and I know everything, which I do. And she clever too and asks, "It's cause you didn't hear the water, right?" And I nod knowing full well what she's about to do next - because I am a mommy and I know everything. Sure enough she goes into the bathroom, climbs on the stool and turns the water on for a few beats and then turns it off. She's not too good at being sneaky because I am standing in the door way watching her. So I ask again, "So, you washed your hands?" And she says that yes she has, and that's when she gets the little underhanded spank right below her but check and I explain that mommy is no fool. This upsets her but later that night when I ask her why she got in trouble and she tells me, "Because I tried to fool you." Hopefully she'll get it this time. <br /><br />I also wanted to include what she said over a year ago. This was also written on a piece of paper that I haven't had a chnace to enter for over a year. When Noah was a little under three she was about to do something that would land her in a heap of trouble. Her daddy tries to stop her and she assures him it's okay because when mommy finds out, "Then I'll say sorry."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-28684536137201212522009-10-01T15:25:00.000-07:002009-10-06T13:04:50.325-07:00Noah Grace on Sarah Palin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIkahvunMfdgp8AmSu6iI61gSqpx_d47FPCTSXBpr6ksyuGnWg8zfj33duy4bBk_NMWHxSI_TDhOLoe677DgJaDha-N-QtOPEi64ZE2ySlT0BKJD3RScwMCwj48gW40VDwhb9cQAdQ_g2/s1600-h/IMG_1155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIkahvunMfdgp8AmSu6iI61gSqpx_d47FPCTSXBpr6ksyuGnWg8zfj33duy4bBk_NMWHxSI_TDhOLoe677DgJaDha-N-QtOPEi64ZE2ySlT0BKJD3RScwMCwj48gW40VDwhb9cQAdQ_g2/s400/IMG_1155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389580384471585426" /></a><br />About a year ago Broderick told me about an experience he had with Noah will watching the news. He felt compelled to write it down because I had told him of a similar experience I had with Noah. Broderick thought it was so unbelievable that if he didn't write it down word for word then me and everyone else would think he fabricated the story, or at least exzaggerated. So this is what he wrote on the paper over a year ago. Noah was barely 3 at the time and that's how long it has taken me to get to the bottom of a stack of papers that's been sitting on my desk. <br /><br />Here's the setting, Noah and Broderick are watching MSNBC and they show footage of the notorious Sarah Palin interview.<br /><br />Noah, "She's going to be hard to talk to."<br />Daddy, "How do you know?"<br />Noah, "We are going to find out."<br /><br />A moment, then..<br />Noah, "Daddy, you can't watch this everyday."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-87963996448050100832009-09-20T10:23:00.000-07:002009-09-20T10:25:54.813-07:00Photo Shoot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRjQdbOfzjRmMbMhGq8aFYJdIl-FmH1Qxmpy9P5rAlsqXWhlS0Rtn6-_wCm8Bpv6HxwUc80oGCGT7ImEQmjxzL7mFADc4hW76I55yKlRZyQ8gilGpKFB9a93jPkFubWP2psgDiAdLSMQ2/s1600-h/IMG_1120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRjQdbOfzjRmMbMhGq8aFYJdIl-FmH1Qxmpy9P5rAlsqXWhlS0Rtn6-_wCm8Bpv6HxwUc80oGCGT7ImEQmjxzL7mFADc4hW76I55yKlRZyQ8gilGpKFB9a93jPkFubWP2psgDiAdLSMQ2/s400/IMG_1120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383602008172708962" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685763283590661672.post-4233779210138876122009-09-14T21:43:00.001-07:002009-09-14T21:44:57.401-07:00Circus Circus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqwwTgRlaM8lUZd9K19GrgI3JjW0hxeJS0g4wrpqKEZMpQ4p-o-pDwLZcwxdXnCkEBuUQdESlH92Gw1b-a1YeAoaQ4GlhERt5__-PbkIdHoI-V79UJ7EoIrU-NnHSS0IWDhMJuUnOgFdJ/s1600-h/IMG_0960.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqwwTgRlaM8lUZd9K19GrgI3JjW0hxeJS0g4wrpqKEZMpQ4p-o-pDwLZcwxdXnCkEBuUQdESlH92Gw1b-a1YeAoaQ4GlhERt5__-PbkIdHoI-V79UJ7EoIrU-NnHSS0IWDhMJuUnOgFdJ/s400/IMG_0960.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381550464601405746" /></a><br />They had to stop the ride. Isaiah hated it and I have to admit, it was way too fast for a child Isaiah's height. He rode his frist ride in the Vineyard this summer and loved it, but leave it to Vegas to take it too far.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0