San Diego 2011.

I saw my 5-year-old self in Jack during this trip. To me and Allan it seemed like we were running non-stop, spending too much money, and putting our children's growth and development at risk by depriving them of sleep and giving them too much junk food. To Jack it was fun, but he always wanted more fun, whether it be one more souvenir from the overpriced gift shops, one more treat, or one more hour of whatever. The day we left, overcome with tears, Jack whined "Can't we stay one more day?!"

I remember feeling the exact same way.

Day 1: Drove to college roommate/BFF Kristi's house. She wasn't home, but left a key in the mailbox. Met her new roommate (you see, it's not me anymore...) and the roommate's maybe boyfriend (we're still not sure). I went upstairs to the guest bedroom while Allan went back and forth to the car retrieving luggage. He gladly reported on his return that he didn't awkwardly interrupt any romantic interludes between new roommate and new roommate's maybe boyfriend. Instead he interrupted them reading the war chapters in Alma.

Day 2: Kristi was slogging through this (really, I saw her war wounds), we went to Balboa Park to the Air and Space Museum. Verdict: Overpriced. However, money is no object to Jack. He had a ball.

We later strolled around Balboa Park for about 2 minutes before I declared it was time to go (I got hungry).

(We're in San Diego, for crying out loud. Why are we still eating at In-N-Out? And why does Jack still ask for the hat and stickers?)

Kristi returned home that evening where we met Brian. The Boyfriend. Brian, who likewise tortured himself through a ten-mile obstacle course of electrocution/ice water/FLAMES/etc. in 20 degree weather (seriously, check out that link) very patiently endured Jack all evening (Jack's way of getting to know people: throwing medicine balls at their stomachs).

Day 3: Sunday. We rested. And hung out with Kristi's family. I love hanging out with Kristi's family. I came home with a mortar and pestle. Jack got to play with hot pink legos. And we all discovered that lightly toasted angel food cake is amazing.

Day 4: Sea World. With Kristi and Brian. We saw a couple of shows, rode a few rides, and admired some sea creatures. Shamu XV (or whatever number they're on) gave me chills.

Jack is still talking about this ride:

Mikey spent the entire day impressed with everything but the sea life:

Allan was impressed with the kiddie rides:


Day 5: San Diego Zoo Wild Animal Park. Kristi's treat.

Jack later pined, "I wish Kristi was my sister..."

Jack insisted the youngest of the baby elephants was named "Thornsley"

Mikey: Along for the ride.

I think Brian was relieved to see his competition go home

Allan: Not to be mistaken for a gorilla

Later that day we went home. Jack asked about two hours into the drive: "Do you think Kristi's still crying that we've left?"

Thank you, Kristi. We're working on sending you a replacement stepping stone. Jack still insists that slamming random objects onto the ground is an excellent test for determining whether or not the object is made of ore. (????)

Turn around, and he's one.

Today has been kind of hard for me--Harder than last month's festivities marking my thirtieth year (don't feel left out, you didn't miss anything). I feel conflicted watching my children grow up. Yesterday and today were spent thinking, "Exactly one year ago I was watching Rocky while in labor," and "Exactly one year ago we decided he needed an Old Testament name because New Testament names weren't really doing anything for me," and "Exactly one year ago, I was starving...."

There were some deeper memories going on, but I'm feeling fragile at the moment, so I won't share.


Silly though it sounds, it still feels strange to think that I'm a mother of two. My gratitude for Micah grows and grows every day. He is our extra special blessing. If he and Jack are all we get, then we get more than we deserve.

(An action shot--why can't I get anything else of these two?)

Jack was so excited for Micah's birthday he woke up at 5:30AM.

Tonight we celebrated with hot dogs (nothing rings in "one year!" more appropriately than a choking hazard), side dishes lovingly prepared with nutrition in mind (and mocked as "not matching" the hot dogs), and for Micah's first taste of sugary goodness: lemonade cake--a Vandagriff favorite.

Micah's cake-eating performance was pretty weak-sauce compared to Jack's:

(January 19, 2007)

We gave gifts:

(Virtual birthday party brought to you by Skype)

Happy Birthday, Mikey-Mo. We love you. Bunches.

J-Bai.

J-Bai. That's Jack's baseball name. I just came up with it. I was calling him "Bailey," but he hated it, because "it's a girl name, Mom." How silly of me.

(note the wrong kid is standing on base...)

Calling last year's t-ball season a success would have been a stretch. Last year other parents would scream from the sidelines, "Jack, stop talking!!!!" because he was such a distraction the other kids (I'm sure he was putting a real damper on their future star power). Socially, it was a success, and as far as J-Bai is concerned that was all that mattered. He now had Jaden, Aiden, and Caden among his friends (you think I'm joking...).

This year t-ball turned to into coach pitch and something clicked. He started to care a little bit more. But still not enough to keep him from doing a pirouette every time he swung the bat.

This video is from the final inning of the final game. In the first inning he hit the ball but didn't notice mid-pirouette. It took all three coaches, the sidelines, and his teammates yelling at him to get him to run to first. In the second inning he turned serious, and decided that he was no ballet dancer.

Perhaps I'll start this thing up again.

Easter Morning
(Note Jack and Micah's coordinated ensembles. My first attempt. Hopefully I won't take this too far.)


This boy is growing up. Today is his last day of preschool. That makes me really sad. But really happy I have ten weeks of hassle-free mornings. He takes longer to get ready than most teenage girls. It's all the practicing his "Batman karate moves" in the mirror:

Micah turns one next week. I don't want to talk about it:

He's walking now (pictures forthcoming). I do like to talk about that.

Reading, writing, arithmetic. He cares about them all. A lot. I deserve no credit. I didn't really have to try:

They're crazy about each other (except when Legos are involved):

The next time I complain about anything, will someone please smack me over the head? Because I have. no. reason. to. complain. The blessings flow.

Love,
Buffy

He's a bug.

Micah is small. 35th% at his 9-month checkup. We're not quite sure how that's possible given his parentage.

Jack continues to not be small. (Jimmertime!)

This boy is 5.

On January 19th, 2006 at 5:07 EST I was flooded with the most profound, intense emotions that I had ever experienced.


The first thing I asked Jack this morning was if he feels older now that he's five. He promptly responded with a slightly puzzled expression, "Yeah, I feel like I can do more karate moves and stuff."


Just remember to use it for good. Not for evil.