Sound familiar?
I think we have a problem.
We also had a super fun day climbing on furniture, trying mattresses, and being together as a family while spending gobs of money on stuff we don't really need. One of our favorite pastimes, I am sad to say.
We did get an excellent new rug.
And we did get to make this movie trailer. (credits to Nat and his newfound passion for iMovie)
Not much new to report other than the rug, to tell you the truth.
That's OK, in a January sort of way. As I've mentioned before, this is a month you just kind of get through. We're playing around with adding curtains, we're going to skating lessons, we're doing a lot of laundry, we're playing a lot of monopoly and Wii Monster Truck 4x4. I'm fighting cold dark mornings to get to the gym, Nat's driving all over the place teaching classes. It's easy for the days to blend together, even with random trips to Ikea to break things up. We are all missing summertime. Ivy asked tonight when we'd get to go back to Farley's. Eleven degrees with biting wind makes it seem impossibly far away.
Ah, January.
So we seek our sunshine in the small things.
Like this small thing.
Talk about a trip.
This one is certainly a bright spot in our days. An opinionated, assertive, energetic and irresistible bright spot. I've been meaning to do a proper "kid update" post about each of my two; I think what has been holding me back (aside from general exhaustion each night when I have time to write) is that it may be impossible to put this girl into words.
Maybe this picture will help.
Ivy at the start of 2014 is 4 months away from 4 and talks about her birthday every day. She's in a hurry to grow up and do it all on her own. We get into arguments about clothing, already, because she insists on dresses and tights, every day. Preferably her fancy Christmas dress, thank you very much. Tonight at dinner she sang us a song, the lyrics of which were constant variations on, "I love dresses and tights and flowers...." She is a girlie-girl through and through, always hugging a baby doll or a stuffed animal or a horse figurine or one of her two pink plastic butterflies (she chose a second identical one at the History Museum store just recently, "so they can be twins.). She loves to have tea parties and play doctor and pretend to cut hair. She does not deliberate on her decisions or worry about consequences. She does not hold back on her feelings, from screaming at her brother to pushing us away to pointing out the flaws in any situation. Nor does she hold back on the love: "I love you and daddy taller than our HOUSE!" She is a talker, oh my! She spins a good narrative (albeit with a restricted set of topics, namely princesses or playing with friends) and starts conversations easily with anyone she meets. She adores school, especially yoga, and likes to teach us the poses she learns. Last night, she spent ten minutes after dinner on the floor, being "bread"-- "mommy, pick me up so Pip doesn't get me! I can't move because I am bread!" I need to take more videos of her talking because I just want to freeze her like she is right now, bottle up her little voice and her funny syntax, her soft "th" sounds and irregular grammar. Because it is so perfect in its imperfection, because the way she describes things is so often more true than the "right" way to say it. Because every day her speech is getting more clear, more precise, more grown up and I am going to miss so much the way my three year old talks, right now... And the way her hair smells... and her tiny hands... and her little self curled up next to me at bedtime... and her sweet face up to my ear to tell a secret, the small intake of breath, the pause, the loud loud whisper. Ivy at the start of 2014 is earnest and enthusiastic, joyful and gentle, fiery and funny. I could not love her more if I tried.
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