half birthday

As you may know, we celebrate Isaac's half birthday in lieu of the actual day. It's the best you can do when, as a parent, you resist violently the idea of your child being smothered with gifts over a 2-day period, or the notion that he would have to wait 363 whole days for the two biggest look-forward-to events in his life to be celebrated back-to-back in an overwhelming rush (kind of like this sentence). And let's face it: a birthday just does NOT get celebrated properly when it falls within 48 hours of the biggest overblown holiday in our country. Hence, the half birthday!

(My attempt at a baseball mitt cupcake-cake, in case you were wondering what that is.) After receiving a new storm trooper helmet, the boys went hog wild with it!See what I mean? New Luke Skywalker costume! The birthday party was Star-Wars themed, complete with Jedi tunics for kids who didn't wear costumes. Here the kids are lined up for a Jedi-training obstacle course! And then water balloons to defeat the (sidewalk-chalk sketched) Death Star spaceships. What's a Star Wars party without a little light-saber sparring? Rescuing Han Solo from the Carbonate!

Easy solution for the cake--line cupcakes up as a light saber! Leia Clara, Isaac's cute little friend. This was the first party we've had for Isaac where friends brought gifts. He was stoked! Left, Elena, and Aunty Caitlin! She was a godsend, helping out behind the scenes as Jed and I ran the show (or should I say, flew the Millennial Falcon). Lily and Ike Taeven, Elliot, and Nicholas The kids were visited by a very non-threatening (I am tempted to say "comical") Darth Vader! (Didn't know Darth had such gentle blue eyes or sported such a hip 'fro!)

a gorgeous day for a hike

We saw our first moose in the wild! Wow.

We visited the Bernard DeVoto Memorial Grove on the Idaho/Montana border--a grove of mammoth cedar trees, the oldest in Idaho. Tree "hugging"

the best dad

(written mostly by Ike with a little help from Mom, Paul, and John :)

heart my boys' daddy

mama bear

Today’s weather was absurd. Part of the day was clear and calm while other times the rain torrented down in gusty sideways sheets. It was during the deluge that Isaac’s school bus rumbled up the street to the stop, about four houses away.

Now, maybe this is a bad-mama disclosure, but I sometimes slack off when it comes to watching Isaac walk home (though I’m militant at watching him go to the stop in the morning). But today while the sleeted sheets pounded the house, I dutifully watched the bus come and my kindergartner disembark.

He looked so small. So fragile and umbrella-less. He clutched a blue plastic animal-covered bag that I knew held his special things from being Star of the Week. I hoped he would manage to run home, but he just wandered, disoriented.

I started to tug on my shoes to run out to him. When a voice of reason in me whispered, “Oh, he’ll be okay. It’s only 4 houses down—in fact, it will be 3 or 2 houses by the time you even get to him. He’ll make it on his own.”

But another instinctual voice—what I have come to recognize as my “Mama Bear” voice—overrode it, and I responded to the stronger urge that sprang from my breast to rescue my child.

I finished pulling on my shoes, hastily grabbed our neon yellow Pooh-bear umbrella, and sprinted out in the storm.

He hadn’t made it far. He was still several houses down, slowly making his way bewilderedly against a ferocious headwind.

I reached out my hand with the umbrella first, enveloping him protectively under it, and wrapped my other arm around him. He looked up at me. In his face: bliss. We half-ran together the rest of the way and shook ourselves off on the front step.

Later that night I eavesdropped as Isaac told his dad, “Today when I got off the bus it was raining so hard I couldn’t even see. And I was getting so wet! So I cried out to Mommy to come help me. And guess what. She came!”

Then he turned to me. “Did you hear me, Mommy?”

rite of passage

Isaac--in the most serious, non-joking way--just had to document what happened on our hike yesterday to Link (with a little help from Dad):

Oh, to be a boy. The world is your urinal!

192 miles and an aching tush later. . .

(photo courtesy of Lincoln!)

My new adorable friend (and personal cheerleader) is Caitlin Copple, who as my new biking buddy somehow convinced me to do the seemingly impossible: ride my bike 220 miles in two days with only two weeks of training. She was convincing; and I somehow insanely agreed to it!

With the threat of rainy, windy, cold weather looming, we headed out anyway on Saturday. Although the clouds threatened us more than once, amazingly the roads remained dry, and we rode 112 miles in near bliss on Saturday.

Sunday morning dawned cold and rainy, so we determined to fudge--just a bit--by starting out about a quarter of the way on the return trip. Although Caitlin's willpower and gusto were intact, a pain in her poor knees was sending sharp pains to her head--not a good sign to continue. And though she bowed out she still cheered me on, offering her ipod and booties, and even met me at the finish along with Jed and the boys.

I truly surprised myself by biking 192 miles, part of it alone. In all honesty, I didn't think I could do it. I guess it goes to show the power of your own will, but especially the championing of a good friend.

ikey's kindergarten music program

mr. moose

all i want for Christmas. . .

I was so glad I happened to be with Isaac when he lost his first front tooth. I had volunteered to chaperone a school field trip and during lunch one of his classmates pointed out that his tooth was bleeding. As I soothed him and quickly yanked it out, many of the kids gathered around, asking to see the tooth, peer into the new hole in his mouth, and to gush their own tooth stories about this shared rite of passage. Back at school he got to add a sticker to his tooth ornament on the tooth tree. A very generous (daddy) tooth fairy brought him $5! (The stingy mommy tooth fairy had no such plans of repeating that amount.)

A few days later, the other front tooth succumbed, and this time dad was out of town and the mommy tooth faith accidentally--ahem--forgot. The following morning I went to say good morning and he announced, gleam in eye, "I'm going to check under my pillow now!" A stab of shame hit me as I realized that I was about to witness my child's keen disappointment--due to my neglect. On a whim I declared, "Isaac, close your eyes for just a minute!" He did, and I grabbed the $5 still sitting on his dresser from the previous visit, slipped it under his pillow while slipping out the tooth, and announced he could open his eyes. Miraculously, it worked! He never saw the switcheroo! But man, this tooth fairy was broke.

Later that day, with a slight new lisp, Isaac asked, "Mom, are you the tooth fairy?"

"What do you think?" I replied.

"I think you are. You're aren't? You are."

"It's whatever you believe, Isaac."

A pause. "I just don't believe fairies are real. I think you are."

"You're right. It's just something moms and dads like to do for their kids, for fun."

A wide, toothless grin spread across his face, so proud of himself for figuring it out!

my baby is 3

For his birthday, Lincoln wanted to play at the dragon park, ride the horsie on the Carousel, and eat pizza, so that's what we did. (Can you find him in the pic?) And I'm not going to lie. I was proud of the way the stegosaurus cake turned out! I think I can say this because I have never experienced any level of success in birthday-cake making. Of course, I had a wee bit of help from Jed. ;) All day long Link sang happy birthday to "Stegosaurus." (The boys are being dinosaurs)

Lincoln. Sunshine boy. Little goose, raggy bear, snugger, peaceful guy. Does a hilarious crusty face. Asks questions all day. “Whaz dat?” I will supply the answer. Then “oh,” in a tone that sounds like his little universe now makes perfect sense. In prayers goes through the gamut of animals, thanking God for them all. Adores Yoda, anything Star Wars, including “Jabba Dabba Hut.” Scribbles and colors and creates for hours at a time. So happy. So lovey. Is inseparable from big brother yet plays independently. Hums to himself, his own little tune. Gives the best woodpecker kisses, always purposefully placed. Calls himself “T-Rex” and “Yoda” and “Leen-ton” and his brother “Isaat.”

I don’t get angry at this kid often, but one day I was upset about something completely unrelated but very unfairly blew up at him. I don’t even remember what it was about. But I vividly recall hollering at him. He stopped in his tracks. Dropped his head. Quietly lifted his gaze. Then a whisper, “I-uv-oo, Mommy.”

That was all. Uninvited—on his own—when I was least deserving of it. All blended together into one sound, “I-uv-oo,” but unmistakably clear and sweeter than any other sound I have ever heard.

And it happened to be his very first time saying it.

ikey's first race

We were super proud of Isaac for running a mile all by himself! (Here he is with his kindergarten teacher, Ms. LaRance) Way to go, Bud!