Happy Birthday, Little Birdie!

On July 4, Sweet Baby J celebrated his golden birthday.

Manny celebrated with him.

These are Lego cakes. Legos cakes matched my two criteria for this year's birthday cake: First, it had to be something that Jonah was interested in; and second, it had to be easy to make. Ta-da!

Enjoying birthday cake and birthday ice cream after a birthday dinner of pizza, during a birthday visit from Gangee and Pop-Pop.

Iohan is as excited about Jonah's new car carrier as Jonah is, I think. Jonah's not excited that Iohan's excited, though.

For his birthday, we bought Jonah tickets to a White Sox game. He was generous enough to include Manny in the outing. Here are the boys in their Sox gear, ready for their big adventure.

Grandma Ruth and Grandpa Denny gave Jonah a baseball "glub" (his preferred pronunciation) for his birthday. Pop-Pop and Gangee gave Manny one, too, so that the two could play together, and so that any "it's-not-my-birthday-and-I've-got-no-presents" meltdowns on Manny's part might be prevented. Success! These days, Gabriel takes the boys out nearly once a day to practice. We're counting on someone making the majors!

This may be one of my favorite pictures ever. Baseball brothers, in boots and undies cheesy grins in place.

Sky-gazing

I'm not generally one to stand about gazing at the sky, thinking deep thoughts. I don't think that those who do are necessarily silly (though some of them certainly are) -- I just don't have the time. I've caught the sunset only a few times during my years here in Chicago, and never by intent; it's only been by lucky timing when I've been out walking, or have just happened to glance out the window after a storm.

One evening a short time ago, though, during a time of too much tension in the house -- summer guests, summer heat and too little sleep do not a good combination make -- I took my dinner outside to sulk, or to just calm down. The air was in fact almost unbearably hot and humid (though cooler than that stagnating inside our apartment), but it carried the sounds of cicadas and of the traffic on Addison Ave, somehow a strangely soothing combination. After I finished eating, and needing more solitude, I pulled on my dirty gartdening gloves and poked around the tomato plants, netting a handful of red jewels. The sky sputtered once, for a few minutes -- big, fat drops that tried to show how much damage they would do if only their ranks were multiplied by several thousand. And then the clouds were lit from one direction by a red light that I so rarely see here in the city, and I felt compelled to actually take a picture.

It was such a rare moment for me, and it was lovely. Eating outside, a few red tomatoes harvested from the garden, and the sky on a wants-to-be-stormy evening were enough to take me out of my funk. Snap me out of it?, maybe not, but at least to give me enough room to breathe, to calm myself down, and to try to re-start the evening. It's a remedy that I should take up more often: Eat, breathe, garden.

Te adoramos, Iohan.

We love this baby.

Mama-dates, part 1

I've joked with friends lately about "mom-dating," that is, the process of finding and getting to know mama-friends with whom I might like to have friendship and what's become known as "playdates." ("Playdates" are what I always called "going to play with" or "going to X's house" when I was a kid; today's mom needs a trendier term for it, apparently.) I've felt the need to begin mama-dating lately for a couple reasons: The first is that I've resolved to put down roots here in Chicago as much as possible despite the fact that there is always a sort of limbo in our lives as to where and when we may be next. (To this end, I also planted a garden this spring, a sign of my commitment.) Second, many of my friends have either moved away or have just been occupied with the general busyness of life. It's taken awhile, but I've finally admitted to myself that I am, in fact, kind of lonely. Attempting to be proactive, I've challenged myself to quit acting like I don't see other moms at the playground or our Music Together class and make some friends, already!

Perhaps you think that mama-dating should be easy? Well, friend, you think wrong. Consider: There are four separate parties involved in any form of mama-dating: oneself; one's children; prospective mama-friend; and prospective mama-friend's child(ren). All four parties must agree that play-dating is a good idea for a successful relationship. Add into this the limitations of coordinating these four parties' schedules (classes, naps and mealtimes) and tastes in activities (inside or outside; free-play or structure; rowdy or more sedate), and some relationships are doomed before they've even begun.

And once you add actual humans into the equation? The difficulties are heightened exponentially. Just look at me: I've always been shy (or have, at least thought of myself as shy, which is virtually the same thing), and this shyness sometimes proves insurmountable when attempting to initiate conversation with a stranger. What's more, the thought of making myself vulnerable can lead to paralysis by over-the-top self-doubt: Does she already have enough friends and doesn't need the mopey mom at the playground hanging around? Does she think I'm funny, "funny"? Will she think that I'm some weirdo stranger if I ask for her number? Will she think that the only explanation for three kids at my young age is that I'm a crazed religious zealot? Do I smell funny, or is my hair just too weird today? Maybe I should've worn makeup! Ack! Lacking the ability to read minds, and imagining the worst, I've missed at least a couple opportunities.

For however many opportunities I've missed, though, the past several weeks have led to a few actual connections, which I consider fairly remarkable. Except, of course, the drama is not over, and now I must figure out what kind of relationship I want with my current suitors. More on that to come.

Happy Valley, again.

Sure, the Pennsylvania hills are pretty and all, but they're nothing compared with what I imagine is a tanker truck filled with the world's best coffee. I mean, that has to be what this is, right? Oh, wait, that says "on the Interstate." Interstate's best is not = world's best? Shoot.

Like last year's visit, this year's included a visit to Brandon's parents' house, "in the country," as my kids like to say. I think that to their minds, "country" means anything that has a farm or farm animals within a couple miles, so this fit the bill well enough. As soon as we pulled up, the kids leapt out of the van and disappeared into the woods, never to be seen again. Well, until dinner and dessert, and until they ran back to tell us about all the berries they'd found in the woods, or about how one or the other was bugging one or the other of them. Actually, though, this was a pretty quiet portion of the evening for us adults who stayed on the porch. Bliss.

Kisses for Baby Lucia; ice cream; and memory-capturing, in action.

Father's Day.

Maybe this photo would be cuter if it didn't include a smashed quarter of an avocado, but that look on Iohan's face is awesome.

Berkey Creamery: A clown with his very own ice cream, and more kisses for Baby Lucy.

Here's Jude, eating pretzels straight outta the tub. Here's Jonah, acting casual, until he sees his opportunity. Afterwards, he ate his captured pretzels, victorious.

You might guess from the above photos that we had a water-based outing during our visit. The Swishers took us to a nearby waterpark on our last full day in State College. It was great seeing the kids having so much fun, and I think that Gabe and I both had more fun than we could've anticipated. We were even able to sneak away for a bit to go down the giant slides on tubes. It brought back memories of childhood outings to waterparks -- good times! Jonah spent most of the day scooting around by himself, while Manny required Gabe's assistance for maximum fun. He was scared to do much of anything by himself, but he didn't even mind going through the "water blast" as long as Daddy was holding him. So sweet.

Manny and Ezra.

Ioey and Lucy.

7 Month Sunshine

It wouldn't be entirely accurate to say that Iohan has only two speeds, Happy and Asleep, as these month-old pictures might suggest. It is however, at least somewhat accurate to say that. Jonah and Manny were both excellent babies, demanding in their baby-ways, but un-colicky, un-fussy, interested in their surroundings and pretty friendly. Iohan, though, has apparently determined to be The Most Excellent Baby, and he is. I'm not sure if it's inborn personality, or if he's already adjusted to being lost in the shuffle of three kids and has adapted to a forced low-maintenance lifestyle. (This latter option makes me sad, especially since he's right now my most enjoyable child: He doesn't talk back or throw fits (yet), he still nurses and therefore cuddles, and he always has a smile for Mama. He deserves lots of attention, not leftover attention!) Whatever the cause, Iohan is great joy to have around. I find myself hoping that his middle name ("Hilary," meaning "cheerful") is prophetic. God should be so good.

Sand in our toes

Someone I know recently commented that there is no place like Michigan during the summer -- so true! We visited Grand Rapids a bit before summer arrived, on Memorial Day weekend, but the weather was great and the effect was pretty much the same. Ah, Michigan...Just shy of 7 months.

Few things are cuter than chubby little baby feet, except for the chubby little baby himself.

It's always a hike from the car to the beach, and one can't be expected to make that journey again just because a little boy's hat was left in the car. My sister was nice enough to let Jonah wear her hat. I like to think that he looks hip, not that he looks like an almost 4 year old boy in a woman's hat. J's man enough to pull it off. Right? Right? Jonah loves, LOVES "rhinoculars." Apparently Kara and I broke this pair of my dad's when we were kids, so by dad wasn't too bothered when Jonah dropped them in the sand as he ran off in pursuit of something more interesting than close-up looks at the surf.

Iohan loves the water so much that he was barely phased by the cold May water. He stayed in it with Gangee till his chubby little feet turned purple, brave soul. He's a stoic one at this young age, undoubtedly learned from living with two crazy older brothers.

As often happens, Manny finished the day without pants. I don't think that any of us really knows why this was the case -- Manny was wearing trunks, then, suddenly, he wasn't. The child is a living cartoon and has no shame, two of the many reasons we love him so much. Our lives are incredibly brightened by Manny. Yes, by Manny and his glowing white buns.