Painted Fireworks

I saw this firework project through Pinterest a few weeks ago, and thought it was cute and clever.  The original project can be found at Juggling with Kids.

You bend pipe cleaners in the shape of fireworks, dip them in paint, and viola....fireworks!

Madeline approved, and I think her finished art turned out great.

Although, sometimes I think I like the way the palette looks better than the finished product.

 Happy birthday, America!

What We've Been Up To...Tornado Warnings and All

We're in full summer vacation mode now.  Life has slowed down.  Wayyyy down.  So down, that Madeline is starting to look like this:

We're taking her out of daycare this summer for the first time since she was three months old.  I have a feeling life with Mumma and Dada is going to seem really boring really fast.

Eric and I celebrated her last day in school with a trip to Portsmouth.  We enjoyed some time without the little one.  It feels so strange to enter a store with breakable merchandise and not wince.

Going from the daily grind to a sudden halt is always a bit disconcerting at first.  I feel like I should be filling every minute with fun summer activities lest I waste my vacation away.  If we just sit around and do nothing, I feel guilty.  But isn't sitting around doing nothing part of the fun of summer vacation?

Maybe someday it will stop raining and we can get outdoors again.  Then I will feel less like a mushroom.  However, we did experience a bit of excitement yesterday.  Not the good kind though.

Yesterday afternoon, I was in the middle of throwing together some blog ideas when my phone started buzzing. An emergency alert popped across my screen announcing a tornado warning.  "Take shelter immediately," it demanded.

Tornadoes? In eastern Massachusetts?! Nah. Was my phone serious?

I spent some time living in Nebraska growing up.  I seem to recall that in the Midwest, a tornado watch simply means the conditions are right for a tornado, while a warning means there's an actual tornado.  I'm not sure if this system has changed since the early 90s or if the warnings in this part of the country are simply different.  (Any Midwesterners reading?)  Here, a warning means the conditions for a tornado are right, but there aren't necessarily any twisters dropping from the clouds.  I did not know that at the time.

All I know is that when I saw, "Warning. Take cover!" flash across our television, I told Eric we should head for the basement.

It never ceases to amaze me how calm and unfazed Eric is by pretty much everything.   Despite getting the same warning on his phone, he remained calmly lounging on the couch.  "If you want," he shrugged.

 Umm, yes?!  

Madeline was napping through all this commotion, so I scooped her out of bed, wrapped her in a blanket, and headed downstairs.

I avoid my basement at all costs. I've probably been down there a total of five times since we've lived here. It's scary down there:

This kind of scary:

But not quite this kind of scary...shudder:

Once in the basement, we calmly sat clicking through the weather reports on our phones, ducking spider webs, and avoiding the water seeping through the flagstone.

Madeline is a pretty deep sleeper, so she snoozed on my chest soundly for awhile.  However, I guess I shifted her around one too many times, and eventually she opened her eyes.  The poor girl.  Imagine waking up from a cozy nap to find yourself in the kind of basement on which horror movies are built.   I've never seen her eyes open so wide.

I was worried she'd cry, but she didn't.  Once she got over her initial confusion, she seemed to accept that Mumma and Dada were holding her in the basement as a little unusual, but nothing to worry about.    That's trust.

Thankfully, all the fuss was for naught. We just got some really heavy rain. Twenty minutes after it started, the warning was over and we came back into the light.

I really wanted to go strawberry picking this week before the crop is over, but the weather is calling for more storms all day.  It looks pretty gloomy out there.  So instead, we'll try to tucker the Maddie Bear out the best we can with craft projects and puddle jumping.

Here's hoping it clears up a bit for the Fourth!  Soggy hotdogs....yuck.

Boy was My Face Red

You know what's pretty embarrassing?

When  your daughter starts shouting out, "Hi gassy Mumma!" in the middle of the grocery store while giggling uncontrollably.  To make matters worse, Eric started laughing along with her.

For the record... I was not gassy.

Lions and Tigers and Sloths! Oh My!

Madeline claims to like puppies. And she does, as long as they're a safe distance away. The puppies on the other side of the street are just lovely, but put Madeline in the same room with a dog, and she'll claw her way up the nearest adult.

She doesn't even pretend to like cats. Every time we go to my parents' house, she quietly and fretfully asks about their cat. We try to assure Madeline that it's a nice kitty and that Mimi will put it away in the basement if she wants. Maybe on some level the great cat incident of 2011 has been seared into her memory.

On the other hand, animals in books and on TV seem to fascinate her.  She likes to pretend there are monkeys in the trees when she drives to school in the morning. Sometimes she pretends to be a bear who steals our picnic baskets. For a long time she tried to convince us that a lion, who was also named Madeline, lived in our basement.

A few weeks ago we decided to take her to the zoo. We've taken her every spring, and she asked to go this time.  Based on her reactions toward cats and dogs, we figured she might be a little shy at first, but that overall, she'd enjoy seeing the animals.

We were wrong.  She cried the entire time.

She cried to go home when we saw the tiger, who was lying in the shade so far away from the fence that we could only vaguely see his nose and paws. She cried when we brought her near the sleeping lion.

Mumma, that baby zebra back there is stressing me out!  

It wasn't just the giant cats that frightened her either.  She cried at the camels, and the kangaroos, and the emu. She calmed down when we entered the indoor tropical exhibits. She really liked the fish.

But then we rounded the corner to see an ant eater and she began crying all over again.  We tried to point out the cute, little monkeys to her.  She was not impressed.  She cried loudly as we rushed past the gorillas, but she didn't mind posing with this statue just past the exit.

After we finally gave up and headed toward the exit, Madeline decided she had enough courage to ride the zebra on the carousel.  She even liked the tiger with a pink saddle behind us. I guess plaster animals are just fine.

On the way out, we saw a sloth that she thought was pretty cool, and she didn't mind the prairie dogs either. Fish, sloths, and prairie dogs are about all the gal can handle.

I can understand why lions and tigers and bears would frighten her. They at big, unfamiliar, and roar. But last week we stopped by a local farm to see the goats, sheep, and bunnies. She cried some more. Animals stress her out.

I guess we shouldn't expect Madeline to grow up to be a veterinarian or a zoologist unless she can specifically work only with fish and sloths. Dr. Doolittle she is not.

Moon Picnic

I am now officially on summer vacation for the next two months.  Which, not to rub it in, is pretty damn fantastic!

Last night there was a super moon.  I'm not sure what that means exactly other than the moon looks bigger and brighter than usual.  I'm sure it has something to do with the planet's rotation, but I'm not sure since I was hungover through most of my astronomy course in college.  Also?  Too much math for me to pay attention.

All I know is that the thought of a big, bright moon hanging low in the sky on a warm summer evening sounded perfectly magical.  In my head, I planned a picnic on the beach.  We'd watch the sunset, eat some gourmet food, let Madeline dance in the surf, and gaze at the moon as it rose over the ocean.  

Yet, my plans for a gourmet picnic quickly went out the window.  It was too damn hot to cook, chop, or dice anything in our non-air conditioned kitchen yesterday afternoon.  Instead, I decided we'd pick up some seafood at the beach, and then still enjoy the sunset, waves, and moon afterward.  

Brown's Lobster Pound can get pretty crazy during the summer, so we were skeptical over our chances of eating there.  However, we lucked out.  There were plenty of tables, and the line was manageable.  We tried to get Madeline to eat some sea creatures with us, but she wasn't interested in the least.  She did, however, eat a hot dog and most of my tarter sauce.  Silly girl.

In my original plan for our moon picnic, I thought we'd go to a quiet, peaceful state beach, but after dinner, I was craving some fudge.  Taking the small crowds at Brown's as a good sign, I decided heading toward the busy Hampton Beach boardwalk after dinner wouldn't be too bad.  After all, it was a Sunday night, and summer vacation has barely begun.

Ha.  Ha-ha.  You're a stupid girl, Summer.

Between the restaurant and the beach, a distance of what is maybe five miles, we sat in traffic for two hours.  

We would have left, but the traffic leaving the beach was just as bad.  We were stuck in a virtual parking lot of cigarette-smoking teenagers, men with hairy backs, women in tiny bikinis, and body parts I didn't know could be pierced.  I know that makes me sound snobby, but if you're familiar with Hampton Beach, you can picture the scene.

As time slogged by, the hope of seeing the sunset quickly vanished.  Not only were we not going to reach the beach in time, but there were also storm clouds ahead.  We could see lightning flash in the distance.  Maybe seeing the moon was out of the question as well.

"I'm sorry.  This was a bad idea," I said sheepishly.
"No, it wasn't," Eric kindly offered back.  "It was a very nice idea..."  

By the time we reached the boardwalk, the sun had set, the casino lights were flashing, and we felt wildly out of place amongst the hoards of young people looking for a fun night out.

Yet, once we got out of the car, it didn't seem so bad.  Madeline kept looking at the airbrushed, neon t-shirts lining the boardwalk and sighing, "Oh, so beautiful!"  We marveled at the sandcastle sculptures.   We sat and listened to a concert band for a few minutes.  A cool breeze blew through, but no rain.  We got ice cream, and...the clouds parted long enough for us to see the moon.  Our mission had been accomplished...sort of.

We were feeling pretty happy when we got back in our car to head home.  The traffic leaving the beach had vanished, and our previous two-hour ride, took us about five minutes.

Sadly, the highway was under construction in two different areas on the way home.  That tacked on another couple of hours to our trip.  By the time we pulled in our driveway, it was after 11 pm, Madeline was passed out in the back seat, Eric was grumpy from the traffic, and my gas light had come on.

"This was a bad idea," Eric said.
I nodded.  "Yes, it was."

Luckily for me, I got to sleep in this morning.  Unluckily for Eric?  He still has a week of school left.  Womp.  Womp.  So much for romantic moon picnics.

For next year's super moon, maybe we'll just set up lawn chairs in our yard.

Conversations with Maddie Bear

Madeline:  I'm the Mumma!
Me:  Um, no.  I'm the Mumma.
Madeline:  No, I'm the Mumma, and Dada is the Dada.
Me:  Then who am I?
Madeline:  You're the grandma.

Me: (waking Madeline up in the morning.)  You're such a pretty girl.  Your nose is pretty, and your eyelashes are pretty, and your chin is pretty, and your mouth is pretty...
Madeline: (eyes still closed) And my BUM is pretty...(Evil Giggles)

(I come downstairs after getting dressed:)
Madeline:  Mumma, WHAT are you wearing?!
Me:  My clothes.  Is that okay?
Madeline:  It's just blue...
Me:  So.  What's wrong with blue?
Madeline:  I only like pink shirts.


Madeline: *gasp* You went peepee on the potty, Mumma? Oh! Such a big girl!
Me: Thanks.

Madeline: Tell me the truth, Mumma.
Me: The truth about what?
Madeline: The truth about how I was a baby in your belly.
Me: You mean the story of how you were born?
Madeline: Yeah that one.

Dear Madeline: June, 2013

Dear Madeline,

It's been fascinating watching the wheels in that little head of yours spinning recently.  You're learning and growing so quickly these days that it's hard to keep up with you.

I love listening to you play.  You use your dolls to make up stories, or to reenact favorite books or movies.  The other day you walked in the living room with two Little People and said, "This is Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley."  It made your English-teacher Mumma proud.

You like to run around the yard pretending to be Rapunzel or Belle.  You often demand that Dada be Flynn Ryder and Mumma be the evil mother.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.  I'm not sure how Dada feels about this.  I'm not sure how Freud would feel about this.

This bossy behavior has extended beyond the playroom, I'm afraid.  You're quite certain that you're the boss of our little household.  We're constantly getting orders about what to get you, where to stand, or how to clean up your toys.  Dada and I are doing are best to put you in your place.  You may be our little princess, but we're still in charge, Maddie Bear.  There have been a lot of tears around here lately when you don't get your way.

We took your pacifiers away for good a few months ago now.  We retired them one by one as you poked holes in them.  For some reason, they all seemed to fail within a week or two.  You didn't protest too much, which was a pleasant surprise.  However, I will say that getting you to bed takes A LOT longer now without the pacifier to help calm you down.

You've started playing the classic child's game of finding every excuse under the sun to get us back in your bedroom at bedtime.  Sometimes you claim that you have a wet diaper.  Sometimes you claim that you want to use the potty.  Sometimes you beg to have your back rubbed or your hand held.  Sometimes things gets really ridiculous, and you cry for us to put the blanket back on you, or help you reach a book at the foot of your bed.  We try to get you to do these things yourself, but you can yell....loudly.  Then we try to ignore your yelling, and instead, you become hysterical.  Sigh.  I guess we're just in another one of those phases.  I'm sure you'll figure out other ways to self-sooth eventually.

When you first transitioned into the preschool, your new teacher asked me, "Does she usually talk herself to sleep?"  I just had to laugh.  Buddy, you have no idea.  You talk, and talk, and talk.  

In fact, I just overheard you say, "I want to be big, and turn into a human!" from your bed.  Not sure what that's all about.  

Meanwhile, you've become increasingly curious about letters and words.  You now realize that the symbols on the page are words with meaning.   You ask me to spell words out to you.  You try to spell out the words yourself.  Sometimes you get the letters right, but mostly, you just randomly spout out the alphabet.

And in a week, little girl, we'll be on summer vacation.  Then I'll have you to myself all day long.  We can bake, do projects, explore the neighborhood, and go on trips together.  We can sleep in late and stay up later.  Can't wait!  

Love you, Bean Sprout!

Mumma