matching tracksuits

We have snow this first day of November. Halloween it began snowing, and I was in bed with Emil, who woke at five this morning and whom I coaxed back to sleep by convincing that that Mama was on her way, when K came in and said, “You know it’s snowed?”

At first I thought she was coming in to crawl into bed with the two of us, but in fact there were three of us: L woke up at some point around seven or so and crawled into bed with us, so when K walked in, the first thing I said was, “You know, we don’t have room for you, too!”

Of course there was no more sleeping — the Boy was up, the Girl was chatting with him, and we were all huddled together in E’s big bed, so there was no turning back. The day had begun.

Besides, the Girl’s doll needed a diaper change, and the Boy was more than willing to take on the task. But like so many things — like our story telling effort from the afternoon — the whole activity doesn’t hold the Boy’s attention for long.

It’s partly due to his age no doubt. In fact, what’s more surprising than how frequently he loses interest quickly is how often he can become completely engrossed in some activity — drawing and playing with cars most often.

Blocks can often hold his attention, but when it’s time to build — to really build — he’s not the one you want around. He likes destroying as much as building. No, more than building. The Girl, though, has rediscovered Legos, and this afternoon we had a little father-daughter building time. Nana saved some of my old toys, and most sensibly she saved all my Legos, so the Girl and I dig in to build a food crusher for when she’s playing animal hospital.

By this time, the snow was long gone and the wind had kicked up. It always makes me a bit nervous, especially considering how close some of the huge oaks in the backyard are to our house. Given they’re size, they could likely do some serious damage to our house if they fell at just the wrong angle.

But it’s not our own trees that worry me most, but a large oak in our neighbor’s yard that could potentially take out our whole upstairs. And by the late afternoon, the wind was constant, and the trees in the were swaying violently.

But eventually, the sky cleared, the wind disappeared, and the most unexpected first day of November in memory passed into evening, snacks, baths, serenades, and sleep.

A daughter of some Polish friends recently decided that she had outgrown an enormous plush bear that she had cherished for some time.

What to do with it? Goodwill? It’s a thought, but there’s no guarantee that the new owner will truly appreciate it.

And so she hit upon a simple idea: give it to L.

E, though, has also become completely obsessed with the teddy, miÅ› in Polish.

They seem to have the same obsession, though.

And so it’s a wonderful way to spend the last few moments of the evening before bath time. Until L decides she wants to take it back to her room.

The Girl had a birthday party to attend. It was to include her favorites: a dear friend and art.

I, meanwhile, spent the afternoon with the Boy, doing our favorite things.

Most of the day has been in a blur. Everyone moving, though E starts with a bit of reading.

No time until it's evening, when K makes a deal with me: "Look after the kids now, and I'll get dinner ready." The Boy was already swinging, so I just kept up the rhythm, adding our little distinctives.

For example, the swing likes to break, it seems. At the top of the arc, it just stops, gets hung up on something. I push, I tug, and finally when I give it a bump, it gives way and continues on its way.

Another little trick: the foot grab. It's a delicate little move because the Boy's head seems like it could just pop back and crack the top of the swing seat if I'm not careful. It's the kind of move we do once or twice during a session, then I instantly regret it, because the Boy just wants more.

And of course the Girl's insistence that it's her turn causes more worries than a broken swing ever could: the Boy knows the broken swing is just a silly game, whereas the Girl's turn is not.