Happy Trick-or-Treating!

It dawned on me as we journeyed around our neighborhood this evening that in his memory, this the first time Ethan has been trick-or-treating. He went as an infant the first time we took Emry. The following year he went and loved it, but he wasn’t even two. Last year, as it snowed about two inches, we were in the backyard in snow gear and not super heroes searching the neighborhood for candy. This year, though, the weather was rather pleasant and the walk quite nice.

 

Yes, yes, people didn’t come out in droves. Afraid someone would toss Covid in the kids’ bags instead of candy. But since we don’t have anyone in the neighborhood that works for the CDC (that we know of), that didn’t happen. And those who did come out, whether to trick-or-treat or to hand out candy, seemed to enjoy the socializing and just being neighborly – even if some took the mask precaution. And even though I heard a neighbor say the turn out was way down, the kids still came home with enough candy to last until next Halloween.

 

Ethan had a blast. He was on top of the world, dashing up people’s driveways shouting, “Happy Trick-or-Treating!” (I’m not sure he ever realized the holiday is actually called “Halloween”.) Over and over as we trooped along the sidewalks, he exclaimed, “This is awesome!” Only when we left one particularly spooky house did he state emphatically at least three times, “That was not awesome! That was scary!” But he had no nightmares or anything over it, so the excitement far outshone anything scary.

 

Emry seemed to take it all in stride. Come to think of it, she always has. She’s not overly excited, but she is friendly with the neighbors, polite, and points out the costumes of others. She careful as she crosses the street. She warns Ethan when he’s overly zealous. And if you ask her if she had fun, she states simply, “Yep.” Perhaps she went to the same trick-or-treating training course her cousin Beto did. He joined us that evening with Grandma (my mom) who, trying to be sure he knew the proper etiquette of saying “trick-or-treat” and “thank-you” was informed that he knew all that already: he had been trained.

 

And Ellyson? She was just delighted to be outside, sitting in her stroller and taking it all in. She lovesbeing outside.

 

Spider Man (Ethan), Ellyson and Elsa (Emry

Pictures!!!

By child number three, the amount of pictures taken becomes much lower than child number one and even lower than child number two. But I am trying, and I wanted to share. Because isn’t she soooo cute?

A New (Old) Word

It isn’t often I come across a “new” word. I mean, a goodnew word. Not words that have been redefined, which is what “new” words usually are in this day and age. People simply take a perfectly good word (or name) and redefine it until some of us are nearly afraid to use it. So, like the word I just discovered, really good “new” words are usually old words I’ve just never heard.

 

Several weeks ago I was reading a book about one of George Washington’s army brigades who earned the name “The Immortals”. The author quoted out of journals he had come across and in one of those entries, a man described the Continental Army as a bunch of “tatterdemalions”.

 

Now that, I thought, is a fun word. So fun I had to say it aloud. And then look up what it means.

 

Tatterdemalion: ragged or disreputable in appearance; being in a decayed state or condition; dilapidated

 

Yes, I would say that is a very good way to describe the Continental Army. And it rather sounds just as it means.

Why don’t we use good words like that anymore?

Fish #2

Actually, this post is months late. I thought about posting it months ago, but I had other things I wanted to write about instead. And while the people I work with would never believe me if I told them I do procrastinate at times (they have taken to putting “No Rush” in their e-mails when I don’t have to do that project in the next five minutes)…well, I do – sometimes – procrastinate.

 

You may recall a couple of months ago that we bought Emry a fish. A pet, it would seem, that is not as simplistic as I would have thought. (But it is 2020, so nothing is simplistic.) We brought “Pink Flower” home and I followed all the rules the lady at the pet store yammered off to me…or so I thought. The fish wasn’t in the tank for two days before it died.

 

I found it that night, hoping against hope that it was…sleeping? But it wasn’t. And I started to cry. I don’t believe in all my forty years I have cried over a pet before. I haven’t had a lot of pets and I didn’t really get emotionally involved with the few I had. But I cried over this dead fish. It would be easy to wave it aside as hormones (which was probably part of the problem), but I really didn’t know how I was going to tell Emry. Her first longed for pet had died. And I was pretty sure I had somehow killed it. Not intentionally, of course, but somewhere in the long list of instructions I had failed to follow something. And now I had a dead fish. And the prospects of one very said little girl. 

 

And she was sad. Although she shed a lot less tears than I did. And we took her back to the pet store that very day to get a new fish. For the one glimmer in all of this was we had a two-week warranty on the fish (it came with that for free) so we didn’t have to pay for a new one! I also brought in a sample of the water from the tank for them to test and asked the lady for very specific instructions on how to get this fish safely into our tank. Since our water tested just fine for this new fish’s survival, I carefully followed the instructions. And “Green Star” the fish is still with us!

 

To be honest, this little greenish blue Beta fish is a surprisingly fun little thing. It comes up to you when you go to look at it. (Which I do quite a lot…still fearful this one will die on me, too!) It seems to know Emry, who is very faithful to feed it each morning. Even Ellyson enjoys watching it. I never thought a fish had a personality, but this one almost seems to. So, all in all, the whole adventure of our first pet has turned out quite well. 

And now Emry reminds me weekly that she is ready for a dog…and a cat…

Jack-o-Lanterns

As a kid I have memories of getting pumpkins (some of them we grew, but I’m not sure where some of them came from when we lived in the south) and cutting jack-o-lanterns. It was yet another one of those artistic things I really wanted to be good at and do wonderfully creative montages you see on Pinterest. But like most arts and crafts, I got terribly bored and frustrated with it half way through cutting out the first triangular eye. My very few jack-o-lanterns were never works of art.

 

With my own kids we have only done jack-o-lanterns once before and that was the October after Ethan was born. I don’t remember why we did it. I imagine it was something Ed wanted to do and we had been to a local farm to get a pumpkin or two anyhow for me to cook and puree for baking. This year, though, Emry and Ethan have both seen jack-o-lanterns in enough books to want to do it themselves. So, they each got a pumpkin.

 

Of course the “do it themselves” would me too much at the ages of 3 and 5. So while they drew the faces they wanted and helped scrape out the seeds and pulp, Mama did all the cutting. And this is how we made jack-o-lanterns today:

 

Step 1: draw directions so Mama knows what we’re doing. (This was their own idea…like most kids they don’t believe I did anything before they came along.)

 

Step 2: cut the tops open and scrape out the insides, keeping the seeds for roasting. (There is no picture for this step. I was up to my elbows in pumpkin insides and Ed had yet to come out and join the fun.)

Step 3: draw the face on the pumpkin.

 

Step 4: act goofy, chatter a mile a minute, and generally ask how much longer is this going to take while Mama cuts out the faces.

Step 5: show off the jack-o-lanterns!

 

Step 6: wait until almost dark to go out and light them, shivering with both delight and cold.

Fair Oaks

Last weekend, we ventured once again up the Fair Oaks farm to wile away a Saturday playing outdoors and enjoying time as a family with Grandpa and Grandma. And while the farm always means lots of jumping on the inflatable trampoline thing, the low ropes course, and ice cream; this time of year it also means pumpkins and apples! 

 

We picked four bags full of apples, putting in as many as we could get in each bag. A lot of orchards in our area have little to no apples this year because of a late freeze that killed their blossoms. So, we needed to get our fill! And while we didn’t pick out pumpkins from the patch, we picked some up at the store there at the farm just before we left. Two of them will become jack-o-lanterns. The other two will be cooked down and pureed for pies, bread, and who knows what else! 

 

Emry in the orchard.

 

We’re not sure why Ethan thought the bag needed to be held like this.

In the pumpkin patch.

 

With some of the pumpkins for the large pumpkin contest.

 

And Ellyson!

I'm not Old - I'm Historic

Turning 40 this year has been a challenge. For that matter, simply living in 2020 has been a challenge. And I don’t think that has anything to do with my age. To be honest, I just can’t figure out how I got to 40. I don’t feel 40. (Most of the time.) I like to think I don’t look 40. (But that’s probably just me being vain.) And I have certainly found that I don’t consider 40 to be old. At least, I’m trying not to.

 

But all that changed this week.

 

The Christmas of 1991, my sister Katey and I were introduced to American Girl dolls when one of my aunts gave Katey the first three Samantha books for Christmas. I have a sneaky suspicion I didn’t get many books that Christmas because I clearly remember devouring all three of them before Christmas day was over. After that, Katey and I checked out every American girl book at the library (which only included Molly, Samantha and Kirsten at the time). We sent in for our free catalog. And even though I was a bit old to get into dolls again, I did secretly want Samantha. (And got her on my 29^thbirthday before they retired her…and then brought her back.) We were delighted when Felicity arrived, followed by Addy, and then Kit, Josefina and Kaya. Yes, by now I was well into my teens and twenties. I wasn’t all that happy when Julie came out, for the 1970s aren’t worth reliving even when one didn’t live during them. Cecile and Marie-Grace were an interesting idea. I loved Rebecca and Caroline. I mourned when some of the dolls were retired. I still don’t like the three-book series instead of the six books (although I rejoice that they have finally put pictures back into them). And I’ve actually enjoyed the newer girls of Maryellen, Melody, and Nanea.  Yes. I own all the books. Many of them I have read a multitude of times. I look forward to enjoying them with Emry and Ellyson. And I wonder if they’ll introduce a new historical character and what time period she will live in.

 

Until this week.

 

It was in my inbox. The link to the new historical doll. Who was she? What decade did she represent? What great historical things would she witness? What were her wardrobe and accessories like? I anxiously clicked to discover…

 

And found out that I am not only old…I am now historic.

 

Courtney is the new American Girl doll, a name that truly represents the year she lives in: 1986. She plays video games. She has a pair of jeans almost identical to the ones I wore. She has neon clothes, a Care Bears sleeping bag, a fanny pack, scrunchies, Lisa Frank stickers, and a poofy hair style you can easily sweep over into a side pony tail. In essence, she is me. 

And while I am looking forward to finding out how this girl maneuvered through 1986 (just as I did 34 years ago), all I can say is: Thank You, American Girl Company. As if 2020 couldn’t get any worse, you have now reminded me that I am not only old, I am historic.

4 Months!!!

Today our little girl is four whole months old! Although, perhaps I should not say “little”. Weighing in at 11 pounds, 13 ounces and 24 inches long, she has far outpaced her older siblings at this age and seems huge to me. But at only the five percentile, no wonder she still looks tiny to others.

 

The past month has been one of discoveries and firsts. She can roll from her tummy to her back, but doesn’t do it frequently. She has discovered her left thumb. (Sigh.) A few days ago she found out she has a tongue, which she proudly displays as often as she can. She is also recovering from her first cold. (Thanks Emry and Ethan for sharing!) But even in the midst of her cold, she has laughed and been quite content. So, even though our schedule has been thrown to the wind, exhausting me, I am glad she’s feeling good in spite of sniffles and a cough.

 

It would appear Ellyson has reddish hair, much to my surprise after two dark headed kids who are now brown with blond streaks. And she also brings back long forgotten faint memories of my sister Katey when she was a baby. It’s something about some of the looks she gives me, her roundish face, and maybe the reddish hair. And that’s fine…as long as she doesn’t someday have the Ogilvie nose! 

She didn’t want to show the sticker.

 

Sock Monkey…and the tongue!

Praying Mantises

In fourth grade, we learned about the praying mantis.  It was probably in our science book, a subject I usually paid only enough attention to in order to pass the test. However, this insect was driven home when in that time period, one of my classmates found one during recess. I recall it being at least four inches long, bright green, and a fascinating ugly. Outside of that, the only thing I remember about that insect is they turn brown as they die.

 

The next time I ran into a praying mantis it was bronzed into a door handle at the Connecticut State Capitol Building. As the state insect, it was so honored along with other state things like the robin (state animal) and mountain laurel (state flower). A bit odd, perhaps, but certainly interesting.

 

After that, I don’t recall seeing a praying mantis again. Until we moved to Indiana. They live by the dozens here. During the late summer, we see them at our house and at my parents. All of them are green, turning brown. Most of them are on the small side, but we’ve seen a couple that are a good three inches. They fascinate Emry and Ethan.

 

And, so, we had a to get a book on them at the library. Emry got to the book first, looking through it one afternoon during her rest time. When she handed me the book the read to them a couple of nights later, she told me, “Mama, one of them looks like a pterodactyl.” I didn’t know what she meant, but I soon found out. And I would say it looks more like the Green Goblin from Spider Man.

 

Did you know that there are over 3,000 praying mantis species? Did you know they are cannibals? Not only do they eat other insects, but they also eat each other. And did you know they come in a variety of colors? The ones that live in the rain forest blend into flowers and not just grass or leaves. The one in the book that was bright green, white and purple is the one Emry called a pterodactyl. I was just as amazed at the pink and white flowery one.

I can’t say I will ever be a praying mantis fan. I am glad they eat the insects I don’t want in my yard. I can’t say I’m thrilled to find out they’re also cannibals. And, to be honest, I find them rather creepy looking. But now I also find them quite fascinating. And a reminder of how great our Creator truly is.