A Day of Thanksgiving

Lately I feel like I'm trying to cram in the holiday and birthday posts, but I haven't really written anything meaningful about you.  The irony is that you are changing more now than ever before.  Every single day you are blowing my mind.  New feats, some long-awaited and joyous, some death-defying and heart-stopping, are a daily occurrence.  Your features are changing and morphing into a toddler right before my eyes.  Yes, there have been holidays and even birthdays, but the truly memorable moments are happening without any fanfare.  You are a walking-talking-photo-opp right now.  Celebration or not.  I am consumed with catching it all, and yet I haven't taken time to share it here.  So, it was Thanksgiving (forever ago).  Your second Thanksgiving.  We'll get to that in a minute.  

Taking your baby for a walk.  Be still my heart.

First let's talk about this toddler who is making herself at home around here.   Suddenly you have become a person with your own agenda.  And teeth.  Since Halloween, and especially since our Disney trip, teeth have been threatening to rupture through your gums at any minute.  One by one, five of them have made it.  You aren't done yet.  You're still chewing on your fingers like mad and I see more teeth just under the surface.  I'm not sure why you waited a year to get teeth or why you decided to get them all at once, but I'm glad the worst of it seems to be over for now.  You were remarkable considering the trauma that was happening inside of that little mouth. Just a couple of rough nights, one of them spent on the sofa with me.  A small price to pay for being able to finally try the array of foods that has been out of your reach up until now. 

Teeth!

Your "raise the roof" dance move.

Biker.

 You are also quite the mischief-maker.  You climb to the second story of the dollhouse, open cabinet doors, hunt for power strips that we have hidden from you, try to snag silverware out of the dishwasher anytime I am loading or unloading it, throw the remotes behind the sofa, knock over barstools and lick everything in sight.  The other day, you let out a "help me" cry and I found you standing on the rocking chair, hands on the table, stuck between the two.  I was ten steps away, but yet you managed to get yourself in this predicament.  These are the days when I can't turn my back on you for one second.  But then again, you also push baby dolls around in the mini stroller, layer beaded necklaces on while you sit in front of the dress-up carousel mirror, tap your chest when you say everyone's names (because that's what we do to you), pretend to cook in your little kitchen (you love putting the play checkbook in the fridge for some reason), stare out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of a "dog-dog", wear backpacks obsessively (even saying "backpack" for any and every form of bag, purse, lunchbox and, of course, backpack) and even try to wink by blinking both eyes and scrunching up your nose.  It all evens out.  

Stunt Driver.

See ya later, mom!

Since I've last posted (I am the worst blogger ever), Sydney's puppy party for her 7th Birthday has come and gone.  It was the wild, sugar-fueled, pooch-obsessed event that I expected it to be.  The kids took to the puppy adoption concept even better than I had expected.  They each got to choose a puppy from the "pound", adopt it and name it.  We even had adoption certificates we printed out here .  Then they took turns shopping in the puppy store (full of blankets, mini frisbees, bouncy balls, bandannas, bones, collars, stickers,  Scooby Doo "dog treats", and make-your-own beds), taking their dogs to the vet (just the two doctor kits we have, plus some printables including a vet checklist, and a real x-ray of a dog who swallowed dentures on the computer screen), and the puppy spa (empty spray bottles, ribbons, brushes, cotton swabs and balls, etc).  We painted puppy faces, applied puppy tattoos and donned puppy ears (cut out ear-shapes from spotted fabric and hot-glued them to elastic headbands...even the boys enjoyed them!).  It was kind of a blur, and I think the trampoline may have been the highlight for many of them, and I'm pretty sure I sent them all home looking more like members of Kiss than actual dogs, but Sydney was happy and that's what matters most.  You, however, were not a fan of the puppy ears.  You made that quite clear.

Some party outtakes, including what happens when you ask 7(ish) yr olds to take a silly picture.

Make a wish.  The cupcakes were delicious, but not so pretty.  Oh, well.  It was late and I enlisted help.

Thanksgiving Day was the end of babyhood and our initiation into the world of toddlers, as far as I'm considered.  I remember last year's Thanksgiving vividly.  You were only a month and a half old.  Everyone tried to talk me out of hosting that year, but I vehemently turned them down.  Honestly, I can't imagine having Thanksgiving anywhere else.  I'm organized to a fault on the big day, with a timeline written out in 15 minute increments so as not to miss a thing.  I've been doing this for twelve years now and rely mostly on memory and instinct, but I still have a binder handy, full of previous years' recipes, timelines and even grocery lists.  Holidays are the one thing I am "good at."  You, however, had exhausted your patience by dinner time last year.  Your schedule was off, the house was full of people, you hadn't spent as much time with me as you were accustomed.  By dinnertime you were having a breakdown...and it was mutual.  Instead of eating with the family I hid in the bedroom and laid down with you.  I was secretly wishing everyone would go home.  I remember asking Grandma to "just set the desserts out on whatever dishes they were stored in on the dinner table."  What?!  That person does not sound like me.  Me, who has special dishes and serving trays that are used one day a year: Thanksgiving.  And I didn't bother to get them out.  I didn't clear away dinner and display the desserts?  I didn't make sure there was eggnog, whipped cream, a fresh, whole nutmeg and a grater, and coffee creamer set out for everyone to use?  That person surely was not me.  But that was last year.

Literally, the only picture I took of you last Thanksgiving.

This year you blossomed on that most grateful of days.  You took center stage, and as the house filled with people, you made your way through the crowd of family independently and confidently.  I couldn't stop watching you.  You played with the big kids.  You ate the big people food (and 3 dinner rolls!).  You pretty much ignored me.  That dependent baby, who needed me so desperately last year, was replaced by the star of the show.  You sat with Aunt Shana, talked to Uncle Justin, played with Pop-Pop.  I marveled at how far you had come.  Just the day before, your steps were shaky and intermittent with crawling.  That day the crawling disappeared.  You stole hearts.  You showed off.  You sparkled.  What a day.  Oh, and the food was pretty good, too.

Just one of the "big kids" this year.

Winking.  Seriously, that's what you think you're doing.

Dry, cool weather = static electricity.

Digging in.

And chowing down!

We lucked out in the weather-department.  The high was 75, the sliding glass doors and windows stayed open all day, and nobody eating on the patio was sweating.  I couldn't ask for more. You joined Sydney and I on our annual nature walk, during which we gather whatever natural elements that we can find that could pass as "fall decor" to decorate the table.  Usually that means acorns, pinecones, twigs and lately some leaves off of the Japanese Maple down the street.  Other than that, Sydney picks up all sorts of random dead leaves and seed pods to add to the mix.  I love that she sees fall in any brown leaf.  Then again, it's a sure sign that I need to get you girls up north to see a real fall landscape! Last year we were so hot that the experience was basically miserable, much to my disappointment.  This year was marginally better.  Sydney is going through a whiny phase that can't end soon enough, but once we got past the fussiness, it was an enjoyable tradition again.  The decorating and the prep are some of my favorite parts of this holiday.  I revel in the quiet contemplation that baking allows.  I live for the spicy smells of a kitchen that has seen a day full of cinnamon and pumpkin-laden treats prepared.  I savor the opening chords of the Charlie Brown Christmas cd that I never play between December 26th and Thanksgiving Day.  This year was no exception. 

Foraging.

Lovely day for a nature walk.

Taking it easy on our walk.

Found one!

My favorite thing about our street.  Oak trees.

Sisters.

Wiping away the grumpies.

Family.  And Thanksgiving dinner: Buffet-style.

Grammy and her camera.  It's no wonder where I get my photo addiction from.

This actually happened.  You have your Pop-Pop around your little finger.

A rousing game of pin-the-hat-on-the-turkey finished off the night.

With a grateful heart, I watched my family gather in a circle for prayer before dinner that night.  People always want to know what you are thankful for this time of year  Well I'm thankful for the things you would expect: a roof over our head during these times when so many people are struggling to make ends meet; a meal with loved ones, knowing that there are millions who are hungry; and all of the conveniences that make our life easy, even though generations before us have lived without them.  But "thankful" doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what I feel about my family.  Your father who works tirelessly to support this family and is 100% dedicated to keeping me at home with you as long as it is possible.  You girls who are the very air I breathe.  You are so much a part of me that I cannot remember the days before you or imagine even a moment without you.  So while I will take this opportunity to express my thankfulness for you, your sisters and father, please know that it goes so far beyond that.  My love for you is deeper than the deepest, longer than the longest, higher than the highest.  I love you to infinity and back again.  And even that doesn't seem to do it justice.