Shut Up, Like, New Moon is Sooo Good!

It's true. We sat in Friday night traffic. We ran through the mall, two pregnant moms, to get to the theater on time. We stood in line with a bunch of tweeners, and nearly screamed like they did when the doors finally opened. We elbowed and rushed to the theater, where the hormonal energy level hovered near frantic. We desperately scanned the theater full of thirteen-year-olds saving whole rows of seats, and luckily found the last two together. We rolled our eyes at the teenagers, though we felt like two ourselves. We secretly snickered at the other moms, especially the ones that seemed even slightly older than us. I pointed out two big middle-aged black men sitting together, obviously sore thumbs, and my friend pointed out a couple of 80-year-old grandmas - good for them!

Then 25 minutes of previews started, including 5 minutes of straight screaming during the trailer for another Rob Pattinson film. I almost screamed myself, I was so caught up in the mood, and that was only the first time.

Then there's a black screen pause. The title appears. Bella starts speaking. And we all enter two hours of total, unadulterated and unapologetic adolescent fantasy. The audience screamed. I reservedly clapped. My friend and I did a lot of elbow-nudging and shoulder-slapping. Girls in a swoon yelled, "I love you, Jacob!" Stick-in-the-mud moms, who made me ashamed to be one, yelled for people to shut up. If I'd been able to tear my eyes from the screen I would have rolled them at both.

Thank goodness the first movie, which was ok, was such a success, warranting a much bigger budget - and a new director - for the second, which was honestly, seriously, like SO GOOD! Better acting and directing, awesome special effects, excellent storytelling and frankly way better than the book, which I just read to get me from Twilight to Eclipse, not because I liked it. By the end, it even had my friend switching from Team Edward to Jacob, which I could understand but never do myself.

I am so totally going to see it a hundred more times! With any any anyone who wants to go. And then there will have to be a DVD release party. Love love love it! And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Nailed on the Head

This morning as we were rushing around, Ed casually mentioned, "There's an article on the front page [of the Washington Post] you should read - it's about 'Twilight' fans and the new movie."

"Whatever. I'm not one of those 'Twilight' fans." (Even though I got pre-sale tickets to "New Moon" tomorrow night with some friends.)

"No, it's about women who love it but don't want it admit it. It's about you. Just read it."

On the front page? OK, I guess I can spare the time...

"'Twilight', the love that dare not speak its shame" is about older women (like older than 17) who got sucked into the black hole, loving and hating every minute of it. Wow. Very, very, embarrassingly accurate. Go read it if you care; maybe it applies to you, too. If not, here are a few choice quotes:

1)...they thought "Twilight" could not come for them. They were too literary. They didn't do vampires. They were feminists.

"Prior to 'Twilight,' my favorite books were by Anthony Burgess" and Ayn Rand, says Jenny West, 32, who had never heard of the series until she saw ads for the movie last year. "I bought 'Twilight' [the book] with the full intention of ripping it apart." Then she read it. In one night. Bought "New Moon" the next day. "I was kind of horrified with myself, and I had to keep going." When she finished the last book, she reopened the first one and started again.

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2) One minute you're a functioning member of society, the next you're succumbing to the dark side, wondering how deep you're willing to go -- and what that longing says about you.

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3) The women who have succumbed to "Twilight" have heard all of these arguments before. They wrote those arguments. This self-awareness is what makes the experience of loving "Twilight" a conflicting one, as if they had all been taught proper skin-care routines but chose instead to rub their faces with a big pizza every night.

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4) Men feel perfectly comfortable slathering their chests in greasepaint and screaming like half-naked ninnies at football games, but women too often over-explain their passions, apologizing for being too girly or liking something too trashy.

The grown women of "Twilight" will no longer apologize. They will go to those midnight "New Moon" screenings.

But as for telling them how silly they're being, how Edward is not real and neither is Jacob, how their brains are rotting and their sense of reality is being distorted and this obsession is crazy, just crazy? There's really no need.

They already know.

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Yeah, ok, so I did resist for a long time, scorning the popularity and obvious pathetic-ness of it all. I did read all four books in a week, staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning and neglecting every adult responsibility in my life. And yes, I immediately went back and re-read books 1 and 4 when I was done, and then part of 1 again and then 'Midnight Sun' on Stephanie Meyer's blog. Yeah, ok, so I admit it made me feel 17 again, emotionally intense and alive.

But since I'm grasping for things in my favor, I'm going to the 7pm Friday show, not the one on Thursday at midnight. I have not visited Forks, nor do I have immediate plans to. I own no 'Twilight' paraphenalia or clothing. I have joined no Twi-hard fan sites or blogs, much less started my own. And if our baby is a girl, neither Bella, Rosalie nor Renesmee will be in the name.

However, if it's a boy, and the middle name happens to be Edward, well that would be after his Dad, and not the books, wouldn't it?

Expecting Someone?

I am. Or, to be politically correct, we are.

That's right, sports fans, we're switching to zone defense. Little Hickman #3 will be joining us around - or hopefully before - the end of April.

Which should explain an entire month of no blog posts in September and October, when any free moment I had was spent lying down, and the idea of sitting in front of the computer forming rational thoughts was abhorrent. The last two months are pretty much a blur of survival, fatigue, nausea, seltzer, and Blow-Pops but since I know so many others that have had it worse, that's all I'll say about that. Except that I've been going to bed early and only re-reading favorite books - I just can't spare the focus required to follow something new.

But crossing into the second trimester has cleared my mind a bit. Enough to enjoy food smells again - sometimes -, to think about the nursery and to start a baby registry on Amazon. You'd think by a third baby a family would have all they need. But you would be wrong, very wrong.

Around New Year's we can find out what kind of kiddo we've got in there. No question - I want to know what I'm dealing with, and do as much planning and preparing as possible before the little bundle of screaming disoriented nerves arrives, and the work starts all over again. Besides, finding out at the end if the ultrasound was actually correct is almost as surprising as not having one.

It's also never too early to think about names. If you know me well, you know that I consider naming one of the main reasons to have kids in the first place. If it's a girl, she's all set. I've got a couple of great ones that have been waiting in the wings for just the right time. If it's a boy, he's also all set. The Boy List has been whittled and honed with each pregnancy, and any of the top three or four contenders would make a boy - and his Mom - proud.

In the meantime, for the next few months it shall be known as...Superfly. I heard it in a song on the radio one night when I was having profound thoughts about the baby. I knew it would never pass a committee vote as an actual name, but gestational nicknames don't even go to vote, so it's set.

We told the girls the other morning and they already have their own ideas about names, needs, and how they will "help." I will have to do another post on the girls' names; they're awesome in a cute-but-we-would-never-actually-use-them way. Hazel has decided her job will be to hold the baby as much as possible, and Ginger would like to tickle it and put the bath toys in.

You can probably expect several pregnancy and baby related posts in the upcoming months; I've got a few composing themselves in the old noggin, but I promise not to obsess. Lots of other stuff going on, too, to write about. I just wanted to officially announce. And although I know as well or better than anyone how hard, uncomfortable, exhausting, inconvenient, and sometimes embarrassing pregnancy, birth and new babies can be, I am deeply thrilled in a way that is impossible to explain, to have another one. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Rainbow

A happy little discovery while playing outside yesterday!

My Awesome House: Heat Lamps

The days are getting cooler around here, and we have the heat on some days. But I sleep hot so I like to keep my room cool at night, by closing the vents and sometimes opening the window. Which is awesome and snuggly and fine while we're in bed.

But the funny thing about night is that at the end is morning. And we have to get up. And it's cold. And it's especially cold in the bathroom. And even more so if you strip down, get in the shower, and get wet.

But some genius previously involved with our house, bless them forever, had the same problem, and installed heat lamps in all three of our full bathrooms. You know, the kind you find in hotels - you switch it on, it casts a high-energy yellow or orange hot light accompanied by a buzzing fan sound. And it heats up a closed bathroom quick like. It's not something you might expect, or require, in a house. And in these energy-efficient times, you may not ever go to the trouble and expense to have them installed.But every single morning this last week I have sent silent thank-you's out into the universe to whoever put those in our house. By the time I'm showered and dressed I'm almost too hot, and have to turn it off and cool off in the bedroom before drying my hair. It's a problem I'm all too happy to have.

Starting Early

This year I'm skipping Halloween and Thanksgiving and just starting Christmas now. I understand this may bug some people - those of you who scoff indignantly at the holiday catalogs arriving, at the Christmas stock already nudging Halloween out of store aisles. It probably would have bugged me too before I was The Mom but I honestly can't remember back that far.

I mean, obviously most people are thinking about gifts and who to get what, and how to budget the next few paychecks. Christmas card pictures must be ordered (or taken and ordered), letters written. Travel is arranged. Party invitations are starting to arrive. There are stocking stuffers to collect, meals to plan and packages to mail. Which is EXACTLY why I'm starting now. Because last year, despite best efforts, I woke December 26 a little disappointed. The Christmas season, and especially that week, had been a little too busy, and not meaningful enough for my taste. So I'm trying to pace myself - get a lot of the To-Do's done in November, keep the December calendar a little more open, and seek traditions to test drive. I'm a bit aimless in the traditions department, but I have an appreciation for their role, especially around Christmas, so I'm searching.

I've been playing Christmas music, and putting a few new CD's on my wish list. Collecting children's Christmas books like a bandit - that will have its own post soon. Planning gifts (on a spreadsheet, using a code for Ed's gifts in case he sees the list, but every time I can barely remember how to decipher the code myself - lame!) Got my gift wrap ordered from the school fundraiser.

I just remember last year thinking, "Note to self: the kids got too much stuff, and December was too hectic." So I'm making very, very sure to scale back on the kids' things this year. What do they really need? Not much. And maybe December will always feel hectic to The Mom, but if I go into it with more To-Do's checked off, and a better plan for celebration and relaxation, maybe I - and everyone - can get more out of it. Or maybe I'll have to start even earlier next year.

Bed Time

After 6 years on a slightly-broken hand-me-down metal frame, a year on a built-in platform in a rented house, and 4 months of a mattress on the floor in our new house, Ed and I have gotten a bed, a real bed.Wouldn't it be nice if our room actually looked like that?

We picked it up yesterday and assembled it this morning. It was quite the cause for excitement around our house. The girls could be distracted by neither treat nor TV; they wanted to HELP. So Ed found an empty box (yes, we are still unpacking) and told them if they were going to be in our room, they had to stay in the box. The instructions came in both French and English so we gave them the French instructions and told them to supervise.When we'd gotten a little further along and were working on the corner feet and brackets, we let them out of the box. They brought in their plastic tools and worked on the styrofoam the bed had been packed in.
The assembly was quick and basically painless. It helped that the bed wasn't from IKEA. It's not quite the finished product yet - we still plan to get the headboard and nightstands, just on a different paycheck - but it feels like a new room. And I'm pretty sure tomorrow, when I only have to get up from a sitting position rather than a squat, I will feel like a new woman. Yes, we're getting there, bit by bit.

The Cabin

About two and a half hours west of here (almost five hours if you decide to go during Friday night rush hour before a holiday weekend and make several stops like getting your 4-year-old new shoes at Target because you turned around in the car to realize she's barefoot instead of having put her shoes on like you thought, and the only other shoes you packed were for church) is a hidden-away 55-acre property in West Virginia, to which my parents escape almost every weekend. In our family, it is known simply as "The Cabin."

Last weekend, while Ed was off hunting in Colorado - successfully, I might add - the girls and I packed up and headed out to The Cabin for the weekend. Here's how a typical weekend at the cabin might go:

You arrive late Friday night. Bring in sleeping kids, tuck them in. Adults sit around in the living room drinking cocoa and catching up in quiet tones until someone (or everyone) starts to doze off. Go to bed. You might stay up late at this point, reading a favorite book and relishing in the fact that you have two whole days away from your house and all its chores.

Saturday morning Grandpa makes pancakes for breakfast - plenty for everyone and then some. You bundle up in warm jackets and go outside for the morning "chores" which consist of riding around the property in Grandma's supped up custom golf cart refilling bird feeders and bird baths.Then you might take some time to play in the new treehouse Grandpa and Uncle Dave built last summer. It's not exactly in a tree, but it is in the trees, and up high. Structurally sound to boot. Every grandchild to visit thinks s/he owns the treehouse, and has made good use of the pully bucket, speaking tube, spy glass and kid-size broom. My girls got in there and immediately claimed, "I'm so busy! I have a million chores to do!" These included sweeping the leaves out, and bringing up acorns in the bucket.
After the treehouse you might ride the golf cart up the gravel driveway to a location called "the beach" - a sandy area Grandma keeps stocked with weather-resistent hoo-haw from thrift stores like stone sandcastle statues and plastic dolphin knick knacks. After clearing the area of leaves, you might try to relax and not get bothered that your kids are getting covered in wet sand while they dig and play for awhile. You might go to your happy place and remember how magical childhood is or something like that.

After a busy morning you'll have a good lunch of sandwiches, fruit, chips and yogurt. Then you'll take advantage of Grandma's big heart and sneak off for a nap at the same time as your 2-year-old. Your non-napper will have a great time doing drawing, stickers, reading books, and playing checkers with Grandma. After naps your kids will play downstairs with Grandma's collection of toys, mostly leftover from your own childhood, and they'll end up giggling and playing in the papasan that used to be in your room as a teenager.Before long, it's time to go outside again. Your kids will play "soccer" with a ball and cones. They'll swing in the hammock and pick flowers.
When they see you wandering off for a quiet walk in the perfect fall weather, they'll want to hold your hands and go with you, only to complain after three minutes that they're tired and want you to carry them back.

Grandma will make something FABULOUS for dinner, like a hearty stew that everyone gobbles up, and then Grandpa will go out back and build an impressive fire for sitting around, and later, for roasting marshmallows. You'll discover that your kids only like the idea of roasting marshmallows and eating s'mores, that in fact they prefer to eat plain marshmallows, chocolate pieces and graham crackers separately while walking on the log benches like balance beams and making up cute songs about camping. No matter, more s'mores for you, done just right with the chocolate getting melty on the graham cracker strategically placed on a stone near the fire while you roast your marshmallows to perfection. You might eat...more than one of these.
You'll stay up late again, reading your favorite book again, loving your little vacation and how happy and healthy your children seem out here.

Sunday morning is pretty straightforward - leave at 8:30 for church, a tiny congregation in the nearby town, and return around lunchtime. Eat lunch, more naps. Wake up and it's time to pack up again. Maybe one more romp to the treehouse; a quick trip to the beach to pick up the buckets and shovels left yesterday. Pack the car while Grandma and Grandpa close up the house - trash out, food put away, mice traps set, beds stripped, water shut off, etc.

Drive home to the chorus of, "When can we go back to the cabin???"

My Awesome House: Fireplaces

There are two major compromises we made in the purchase of this house: electric cooking (rather than gas) and no driveway. Kind of big ones but in the end worth it for the space, location and other cool features like my freaking awesome kitchen (despite coils.)

Now that the weather has turned colder this last week we've been turning up the heat and last night we made our first FIRE in our fireplace! Excuse me, in ONE of our fireplac-ES. We have two - one in the main level living room and one in the second level family/play room:Fireplaces are awesome and we made a whole big deal night of it. After dinner we all got in our jammies, built a fire team-effort style, played Memory and ate Sour Cream Pumpkin Bars with Brown Butter Frosting (watch for it on the VGP - "Pumpkin Week" is coming up in November!)Then after the girls went to bed Ed and I snuggled down on the couch talking (catching up after a week apart for the hunting trip) and watching the flames fade to embers. Definitely one of the most cozy, happy and satisfying Friday nights I've had in a long time. Hooray for fireplaces! Hooray for my awesome house!

Egg Carton Lunches

I went to a friend's house for a church planning meeting recently, and she had us stay for lunch. "We'll make the kids egg carton lunches!" she told me, as if everyone knew what this meant. I figured it out quickly but would never have thought of it on my own, and that's the kind of thing to post on the blog.

She'd been saving egg cartons for awhile for this event. Instead of the typical plate, each kid got an egg carton for lunch. In each egg holder was some different food item that was small enough to fit. Granted, we did not strive to fill them with the healthiest foods on earth - after all, it cancels the fun if the food inside is unappealing - but we did OK.

Top: peanut butter pretzels, cheese, Craisins, clementine, apple, goldfish

Middle: strawberry, mini muffin, fruit snacks, strawberry, clementine, chocolate raisins
Bottom: jelly beans, apple, Teddy Grahams, marshmallows, peanut butter pretzels, chocolate chips

They were a hit with the kids, with something for everyone and the marshmallows disappearing first. There was even some trading - jelly beans for goldfish, etc. I think it was most popular with Jayda, the 1-year-old. She would eat something, close it up, shake it happily, open it, eat something, repeat. Adorable, fairly contained, and smile-evoking. A keeper idea!

PeeWees

Hazel's not the only one going to preschool this year. Although Ginger is too young to attend Carlin Hall, we have hooked up with a few other moms and 2-year-olds for a mini version. Once a week we run a 2-hour program at one of our homes, rotating who hosts/teaches. The four of us got together in July to hammer out the curriculum and schedule. Each week we have a letter and a theme. The stories, crafts, snack and activities for that day relate to the letter, theme or both. And we have a bin with the weather and alphabet charts, art supplies and smocks, that we pass around.

Last week was our first week, and it was at my house. I'd spent a few weeks preparing, gathering books and items needed, but the night before still saw me driving to two different stores for streamers and sponges. So much for preparation.

Summary of the Day

Letter: A
Letter craft: Paint sponge A stampingSnack: Animal crackers and apple slices
Theme: Weather
Theme craft: Windsocks (and letting them blow by the fan)Stories: Rain by Robert Kalan, The Wind Blew by Pat Hutchins, The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats
Cutest Thing: Ginger called me "Teacher" instead of Mommy all morning

It was neither the hardest nor the easiest thing I've ever done. There are only four kids and they're well-behaved. But they're also two and need a lot of help with everything. Like cleaning up their paint-covered hands. Or using the potty, since they are in various stages of training. And while the one grown-up is helping each kid, the others are on their own, and that aspect is tricky. Once you lose them, you have to round them back up and re-focus the group. But it's not impossible. I've been in worse predicaments.

Once or twice a month we will do field trips the day after, that go along with the theme, like going to Frying Pan Farm after farm day, or apple picking after apple day in October. Pretty straightforward stuff; this is not cutting edge education. What we are doing is a little structure and socialization, maybe some prereading as well for the kids. But mostly us Moms are getting a few hours to ourselves a few times a month.

And THAT is genius.

Back to Preschool

Aaah. Today was Hazel's first day back at preschool. We had a great summer and I don't mind having Hazel home at all - she is a self-entertainer in her pretend world, but something about the routine makes me feel so happy. Structured. Organized. Plus this year Hazel is one of the big kids in her class - she knows the rules, the teacher, the routine. She fell back into things without a hitch.

"Please smile nicely for the camera."

"OK, now do whatever you want."

Training

Every August a change comes over Ed. There is a new glint in his eye, a spring in his step. He wakes early to go stair-stepping at the gym. He goes for late night runs. Phone calls with his brother Preston last for hours and Colorado topo maps line every surface in the office. Hunting season is coming. And Ed's in training.

One condition of living on the east coast is that every October Ed returns to Colorado to go elk hunting with his Dad, brothers, and the rest of their hunting crew. I grew up in Fairfax; I don't get it. But I don't have to. After eight years of marriage I know this is something he lives for and loves, and I can support something that makes him so happy. And turns him into a rugged mountain man for a week (grrr)...on the condition that he doesn't shave that red beard off until after he gets home.So to support the training regimen, we went for a family hike yesterday near Great Falls, about a half hour away. Donning bug spray and sun hats, we embarked on a fairly flat but in some places rocky trail that offered such thrilling discoveries as streams, boulders, wild mushrooms, blue butterflies, mud puddles, acorns and pebbles galore. The girls could have spent all day filling their pockets with pebbles. When we came near the river bank we took a break to throw them all in the water (the pebbles, not the girls), and Ed gave a brief lesson on skipping stones. Then it was onward and upward until we stopped for lunch and binocular training.Though fairly simple, the hike was still an excellent training simulation for our optimistic hunter. On the way in, he packed about 27 pounds of "gear" (Ginger.) And on the way out, he continued to carry that gear, but added 45 pounds of "meat" (Hazel.) Because this year, he says, is going to be different. This year, he says, they'll actually get an elk and have something to show for it. That remains to be seen. But in the meantime, we're all in training.

Assateague Island

I lived in Virginia the first 18 years of my life, and it wasn't until last year, while reading Good Night Virginia to my children, that I found out we have an island with wild ponies on it! What?!
We've been meaning to go to "the beach" all summer. The girls love playing in sand, and at least Hazel, Ed and I love the water. But it's been a busy summer and we never really got around to doing the research that would make it happen.

Then some friends from church sent an email to a bunch of people, telling about their favorite beach destination - Assateague Island - and setting up a group beach trip day. It was perfect - someone else knows where to go and leads the way, we just show up and follow. And even better, what's important to us was what's important to them - clean beach, uncrowded, non-commercial. And hey, ponies don't hurt.

The weather was iffy. But we decided to be optimistic and go anyway. I had invested in a big beach umbrella for our fair-skinned family just for the occasion. And it had been a long time since we took a family road trip. So we showed up at the church at 5:50 am last Saturday to meet with the others going - apparently experience had shown going early is how to beat the Bay Bridge traffic. And we did. We sailed across the bridge and the other 150 miles to the island. Luckily it appeared the misty weather had deterred other would-be beach-goers.

When we arrived, paid our $15 park entrance fee, and parked, the beach looked like this (about 10:30 am.) Not bad for a Saturday in August.
Here is our little camp. Later in the afternoon it became more sunny and more people showed up, but it was never what I would call crowded. Thank goodness.
The weather was perfect - in the 80's and breezey. The waves were nice and big and we had fun watching surfers. Our group had some body boards and took turns riding on them. Then of course there was all the other fun beach stuff: frisbee, kite-flying, kid-burying, hole-digging.I got a lot of my book read (and have the sunburn on the back of my legs to prove it.) Hazel spent almost the entire day running in and out of the waves (and has the sunburn on her legs, where the sunscreen washed off, to prove it.) Ginger didn't care for the water and spent most of the afternoon building an elaborate sandcastle, and an elaborate conversation, with our friend Emily.
And what about the ponies? Yes, we saw them. They weren't on the beach while we were there, but were along the road when we arrived and left. And they seem to prefer leaving their manure in parking lots, so that was a delicate treat to navigate. This one came bounding out of the bushes just as we drove past.

So the day was a huge success. The weather was great, the beach was pristine. The water was cool, wavey and refreshing. A day full of fun in the sun for everyone.

In fact, nothing could sum it up better than this picture I took less than 10 minutes after leaving the island: