half sick of shadows

Although I'm no Lady of Shalott, I am growing sick of shadows. Or, perhaps more appropriately, of the shadows of the perpetual string of snowstorms. This is what our backyard looked like Tuesday morning. By Friday, most of the snow was gone, courtesy of a few days of actual spring weather. This morning, we woke up buried under another 5 or 6 inches. Seriously, when do we finally get to enjoy Spring?

This week has been . . . another week. We've tried to mostly stay indoors (see above), but we're more than ready to get outside again. And more than ready for Spring break--hurrah! I'm actually heading out of town this week for a conference (the national conference on college composition and communication, if anyone's interested), but I will enjoy a few days off before then, and Dan, I'm sure, is looking forward to three undiluted days with his kids. (Right, Dan?)

I just read a NYT article about the evolution of mommy blogs, away from the old-school scrap-book nature of blogging about kids to blogs that promote and advertise various special deals, and where the blogger's persona and relationship with her audience actually become a marketable commodity. Interesting article, but makes me glad that this blog is still old-school (no pressure for sponsors here!) and that those of you who read this do so because you're interested in us (or our kids), not in the nuggets of wisdom or freebies I may be able to hand out. (Although, the narcissistic part of me has to admit that there would be a certain attraction in having an adoring fan-base--an old friend from high school, and the author of the C Jane Enjoy it blog, has certainly done a good job of making a career out of blogging, and I have to confess that there is a part of me that is jealous of that kind of success).

But enough about me.

Friday, I watched our neighbor's triplet girls for a couple hours in the morning. They are nice, well-behaved girls, but I was certainly glad to hand them back to their mother and glad to no longer be the sole supervisor for five children four and under. In between errands, their mom stopped by for a little bit (along with a young woman in the ward who is expecting a baby any day now, and for whom the triplet's mom is acting as a kind of doula). Andrew, of course, ratcheted up his entertainer skills for the unexpected audience. The women were particularly impressed by the following conversations:

One of the triplets brought a small animal into the room and told her mom it was a unicorn. Her mom gently corrected her, saying that it was a goat. Andrew, looked up at that and, none too gently corrected, "That's not a goat! That's a gazelle." Luckily, my neighbor thought it was funny. But it's so typical of Andrew to insist on exactness in language. (Hmm. I can't imagine where he gets that from).

The second time, one of the women asked Andrew what was on his shirt. Andrew told them it was a dinosaur. I suggested that they ask him what kind of dinosaur, so they did. Andrew said, "This is an Allosaurus." And then he proceeded to explain why it was an allosaurus and not a tyrannosaurus rex, because it had three fingers on its hands instead of two. Sometimes it is fun to be the mom of a smart, inquisitive little boy. (And I have to remember those times, because other times make me want to pull my hair out).


Yesterday we went down to SG in a spirit of optimism. Friday had been such a beautiful day that I was (who knows why) convinced that Saturday would be nice too--and of course, SG would be that much nicer than here. So I dressed myself and my kids in short-sleeves. I did bring jackets, but I hoped we wouldn't need them. Not only did we need them, but I wished (for myself) that I'd brought my coat! Most of the day was cold, windy, and wet with intermittent hail. And, of course, it snowed here.

We went down for Dan's cousin's daughter's wedding--we left the kids with a baby-sitter and enjoyed a lovely ceremony. Unfortunately, we didn't enjoy the wedding luncheon nearly as well, mostly because I'd retrieved our kids and by the time their food was ready, they were no longer willing to sit still. This is what lunch looked like, for me: Evelyn refused to eat, and Andrew wanted me to feed him, so I did (only because I thought he'd eat something this way--he didn't seem too enthusiastic about the food). While I encouraged Andrew to eat, Evelyn discovered my fork and proceeded to eat part of *my*lunch. By the time Andrew was done, Evelyn was too, and so my own meal consisted of one or two bites at a time, during which time Evelyn would have escaped through one of the two doors (you have to love folding chairs; they make it so easy for toddlers to escape) into the church gymnasium. Two more bites, then up again to fetch my daughter. And so forth, until we finally decided we were done, and I took Evelyn back to Bubby and Poppy's condo for a naptime. Luckily, by this time she was tired enough that she only put up a token resistance, despite the fact that we were missing her binkies.

And today, of course, we're looking forward to a nice meal with Bubby and Poppy, and of course, pies--because how else do you celebrate pi day?