Motherhood is cleaning up the barf without gagging

Sometimes I think parenting is largely about how well you manage the bodily fluids of your offspring. Gross, I know; but true. We've been in Boulder for about 24 hours; before we even arrived, Eleri spit up all over Dave's (only) pants, though we did avert the usual Clio throw up on landing (she rode much of the way with the air sick bag to her mouth- or, alternately, her eyes- but managed to keep it all down in the end). When we got to the hotel, I changed Eleri's diaper- and she peed all over the duvet cover (and it's one of those big brocade ones that's more for show than for use). And today Clio pooped-just a little-in her bathing suit in the hotel pool.

Seriously. How are we doing?

Hmmmm... quite a post for Father's day!

Cutest Eleri Outfit Ever

I mean seriously, mom. how do you do it?

Eleri sported the ensemble to check out her new birdhouse "in-out" toy



And to do some serious scavenging under the couch

You're Wanted on the Telephone

When we were kids, my brother Brian and I loved this song from camp; a call and response game, the first singer chose someone in the group to address, and that person responding, as follows:

Hey Heather/
Someone's Calling my name/
Hey Heather/
And I hear it again/
You're wanted on the telephone/
If it's not [choose new name, like Brian], I'm not home

and then it repeats with the new person,

Hey Brian/
Someone's calling my name/

and so on.

I mention this here because, I suppose, summer makes me nostalgic for summer camp (one of my life's main regrets is not being a counselor at Camp St. Croix, because the summer I would have been an AC- Assistant Counselor, for those not in the know- I decided to stay home to be with my boyfriend instead, and then we broke up anyway; I spent my days as a receptionist in my dad's shoe store, where the slogan was Comfort is Our Business); also, yesterday Clio finally, after months of refusals, had a full conversation on the phone.

Normally, when we offer up the phone with a grandparent or cousin on the other end, Clio says brightly, "no thanks!" But yesterday we went to a toy store, and Clio came up with some things she might like for her birthday, so when it was suggested that she might share this information with Nonny she bit, and they proceeded to have quite a conversation.

When I think about the relationship that an older girl has to the telephone, I think I may one day look back on this moment with regret; but for now, I love the idea of Clio communicating so much more directly with her family.

Carnival!

Yesterday, after morning errands, we were all sitting around our living room kind of sizing each other up and trying to keep Eleri from consuming any more carpet fluff, when I heard the strains of hard-pumping music from down the street. I sat straight up and said, that's it, we're getting otu of the house. And off we went, down the block to the School Carnival.

We ran into Elsie there--her mom, Agnes, is a teacher at the school--as well as Titi Millie, and Dory and Amanda, the new women who work at Clio's day care. A regular family affair.

The play yard was filled with not one but FIVE of those huge blow-up bouncy structures. Clio and Elsie took on the smallest- your standard castle.


I you look closely at the last picture, above, you can see that Dave managed to catch both girls' smiling faces in one little diamond of mesh. In fact, Clio loved it so much that when it was time to come out she started bawling as only Clio can- we didn't know if she was hurt or upset.

They also went, with their dads, into a bigger contraption that I unfortunately didn't photograph- it was like an obstacle course with ladders and slides and tunnels; Dave said it was about 150 degrees in the middle and they were barefoot. Clio kept screaming, but when they finished she said, Again!

Afterwards the girls cooled off in the pool at Elsie's house. Let me just mention that Elsie's backyard is a kid's wonderland that puts our little deck to shame: Cars


Bikes (not that Clio shows any interest in riding her own tricycle)


And a slide-



into the pool!


As for me and Eleri? We headed home for a long nap (for her) and some cleaning and cooking (me.) It was a good day.

Summer Fun

It's hard to believe that it actually IS summer, what with this fickle weather and all, but on the nice weekend days here and there, Clio has made the most of it. Just in time to leave Brooklyn, we've really connected with some of the local kids (and parents), and we've been having great playdates. Outdoors. With lots of water.

Clio and Lydia (a friend from music class) fingerpainted some butterflies, the table, and themselves, then suited up to water the garden.


And Clio and Elsie (from day care) stripped down to their shirts and went from garden hose all the way to sprinkler. Clio had never seen such a thing, and when Martin turned it on, she spread her hands wide as if to behold the glory of the sprinkler, and said, "that's AMAZING!"





I think she had a good time. And for those of you who worry where Eleri is while Clio has all the fun (hi mom!), she had plenty to occupy her, too!

Outfit of the Week

Another fabulous outfit, another unhappy photo subject.



I love that the dresses-over-skirts phase is more like a permanent obsession. And that most of her skirts also have built in shorts. And that Clio finally took a shine to these winter boots- in June.

Oh daughter, my daughter.

Status Update

I'm sitting in a Starbucks near Clio's school eating oatmeal and waiting for my cold medication to kick in, hoping my chai will restore my voice which I inexplicably lost overnight, and staring down the pile of work that is due tomorrow. What better time to put a life update out into the world?

For the past month, our future plans have once again been on hold. I had applied for a great-sounding position in Minnesota before we made the Big Decision to move to Boulder; I had heard through a connection that the position was on hold until the next year's budget was approved, plus I didn't technically have some of the major requirements for the position, so I kind of put it out of my mind. So of course, no sooner had I posted details of our Boulder plan, than I got a call to come for an interview. I got the message during dinner one night--I was a little sick then too, and really tired--and I just started crying. I always find it interesting to get sort of sideswiped by something to see what your real gut reaction is; in this case, I was surprised to find myself so emotional about having Minnesota suddenly within reach. So we decided I would interview, and figure it all out from there. If nothing else, if I didn't just go see then it would always be "the one that got away," and I would always wonder (and possibly resent Boulder).

So off I went, and had a lovely, if very quick, visit with my family, and a very promising 2-hour interview at the Children's Museum. It was clear to me that they were grappling to define this position, and that they could take it in a couple of directions; for one direction, I would be great, but for the others I didn't make any sense. It was an education position and I have no formal education background, much less early-childhood education. It is an institution and I have no institutional experience. And it had a community partnership component, and I would be new to the community.

I loved the interview. I haven't really been on a job interview in almost 10 years, and it was empowering to have someone very interested in me despite the obvious lack of qualifications. And I really liked the woman I met with, the vibe of the Museum, everything. But at the same time, talk of systems and structure and institutional politics made my throat close up a little, begging the question: do I really want to go back up this road? Didn't I quit my job to pursue other avenues? (Of course, this is a shifting, on-going debate, and I'm sure there will be some zigzagging over the next several years as I seek the right balance.) I came back to NY and waited for the call. Dave held back on Boulder plans. I avoided the calls from the Montessori school there. And held my breath.

And she didn't call when she said she would.

And about two weeks after the interview, I said to Dave, maybe I don't want this after all. Maybe I am panicking (finally!) about the economy, about my prospects for a job I will love when we eventually land in the Twin Cities, about what I will do in Boulder, about a big gap in my resume. Maybe I am scrambling to get back on a road that I know, that I can navigate with skill, even if I'm not happy traveling its contours.

Well, he said, this guarantees you'll hear from them tomorrow.

And I did. And I didn't get the job. They need someone with early-childhood education experience. With institution experience. With community experience. She said she just kept looking at my resume, and I like to think she was hoping these things would materialize. But of course they didn't. From her perspective, this is not the time to take a big risk on a critical position, and as an administrator, I get that. But it's funny: I feel like I'm back at that place I thought I was in in December, when I first quit my job, or March, when I left it, and I wrote about risk taking and being brave. I'm so glad I decided about that job before it decided about me, because in the space of those two weeks--from interview to final call--I feel like I finally claimed Boulder for myself, as an opportunity to step so far outside of myself that I will, hopefully, not be tempted by the same old roads and will instead head into uncharted territory.

So I called he Montessori school back and made an appointment for June 23. I'm about to book our flights out there, and set up a time to look at some rentals with a broker, and contact the folks that friends and friends of friends have been kind enough to put us in touch with out there. Then I'll use the contacts another colleague gave me for people who might need books edited, see if they might want to work with me. And then I'll think about what I want to write.

What a long process this has been; and it's only just beginning.