Good weather sparks spontaneity

On Halloween this year, the northeast coast experienced a freak snow storm. Not just a few flakes, but nearly 6 inches of snow. Trees tumbled under the pressure and we were snowed in at Grandma and Grandpa's with no power.

So, it's safe to say we're not taking fair weather days for granted this fall. And this weekend delivered a boat load of fair weather.

The kids dove right in. Literally.

We can finally appreciate the joy of the millions (swear) of leaves that blanket our backyard every year. They make for an AWESOME leaf jumping pile.  Another bonus? You can start exercising your snowball-throwing arm with a good leaf battle.

And that was just Saturday. Sunday, I was itching to get out of the house and do something exciting. So we decided on a spontaneous adventure that served as a first for both kids! Road trip to the Philadelphia Zoo.

The plan was to go in the morning for a few hours and head back around lunch/nap time. But as with most bouts of spontaneity, things didn't go as "planned." The kids were troopers and hung on for four hours, with no major meltdowns.

Lindsey had a standoff with some roaming ducks, though. I think she was excited there were animals that weren't behind glass or fences.

There were spontaneous bouts of spending, like when both kids got their faces painted. At first, we were only going to let Ryan do it. We didn't think Lindsey would tolerate such nonsense. But, not to be outdone by her big brother, she too sat there while the artist worked her magic. Grumpy cheeks and all.

Can you tell who was more excited by this?

Ryan didn't get grumpy until about 90 minutes into our self-guided tour. He was dead-set on seeing gorillas. But to get to the gorillas, we had to pass by bald eagles, reptiles, farm animals and (mommy's personal favorite) giraffe's. 

At each exhibit, there was whining and pouting and arm crossing. "But I wanna see gorILLas!" (emphasis on the "ill."). Finally, we made it to the primate exhibit and fast-tracked it past orangutans and  spider monkeys to the main attraction. Two huge, albeit adorable, gorillas who were thisclose to the glass and put on quite a show. I'll admit it, it was somewhat worth the whining.

After the gorilla show, we managed to get a family picture that proved everyone was in a good mood!

Until Ryan decided he didn't want to see zebras next. He wanted to see "flaMINGos."

Regardless, a four hour spontaneous trip into Philadelphia could have ended a lot worse. Family membership to the zoo? Check. Bring on more fair weather days.

A Painting in the Sky

Today's sunrise was beautiful.

So beautiful, it prompted a very poignant question by Ryan. "Who made the sky so pretty?"

I thought of taking the "easy road" and answering simply with "God." But there are a couple problems with this. First, I'm personally not sure where I stand on that theory. Second, while it's an "easy answer" it would clearly open up a whole carton of new questions from Ryan that I'm not prepared to answer yet.

Religion is a tricky subject. I've waned in and out of varying degrees of religious faith over the years. So while I believe there is a higher power and I believe that higher power has an impact on how our lives are intertwined, I certainly don't take the bible as a true account of how we came to be.

But that doesn't mean we, as a family, disregard Jesus and God and the stories we learned in bible school. I think many of those stories provide the basis for healthy discussion and are lessons on how to love others and be loved. We have received books from friends that speak about God and read those to the kids. Lindsey even sleeps with the fuzzy bible board book she received as a gift from her baptism (yep...both kids were baptised too).

Some may take my stance and actions as hypocritical or inconsistent. That's OK. They are. As I stated before, I'm still not sold on where I stand on that theory. To me, the important thing is to keep options open. To explore religion and faith and spirituality in a healthy way in order to find inner peace and be comfortable with ones place in the world. I want my kids to go to church, if they want to go. I want them to read the bible when they're old enough to understand what it is (or what it's meant to be). But I also want them to consider other religions, other beliefs. To be informed and make a decision that works for them.

So today we left God out of the equation. I posed the question back to Ryan. "Who do you think made the sky so pretty?" And his reply was as good as any other.

"There are guys who get ladders and take paintbrushes and go up the ladders and dip the paint brush into the buckets and color in the clouds."

"Those must be some tall ladders to make it all the way up to the clouds," I said.

"Yep. And they're really big brushes too."

Quality Alone Time

The weekend before Lindsey was born, we took Ryan to the Delaware Museum of Natural History. It was our last weekend as a family of three and we wanted him to enjoy the solo attention while it was still an option.

It's been 21 months since that weekend and 21 months since we've had a real opportunity to spend a full day, one-on-one, with either kid. So when field trip time came around this year, and the kids were going to be going on two different field trips, to two different places, we decided this was the perfect opportunity to take the time and devote all attention to one kid at a time.

First up, Lindsey's trip to Coleman's Tree Farm. This was Lindsey's first real field trip and our first time at Coleman's. She LOVED it.

The hayride allowed us to see ducks, geese, turkeys, pheasants, old barns and tractors (and take some mommy and daddy shots with the star of the day).

Then it was time to pick our pumpkins. Lindsey knew just what she wanted and tried her hardest to pick it up.

After getting a workout walking through the pumpkin, gourd and corn fields, it was back on the tractor for the return ride where lunch and apple cidar awaited us.

Next up - Ryan's trip to Milburn Orchards. We've gone there a few times, but what made this trip even more special was how we got there. Ryan got his first shot at riding on a school bus!

And though I know he was excited for his first school bus ride (he sang the wheels on the bus both there and back), I think he was equally excited on the fake, wooden bus at the orchard simply because his best friend was along for the ride.

Once again, we had a hayride, with the standard mommy and daddy shots.

We fed goats and petted their heads. We laughed at the snorting pigs and marveled at the huge (or in Ryan speak - hooge) bunnies. We even hung out hung out with Johnny Appleseed.

Later on, we went into the orchard and helped Ryan find and pick the biggest apples we could find (they were almost as hooge as the bunnies).

And though we were very proud of the fact that we spent two days devoted individually to each of the kids, we're pretty sure the fact was lost on Ryan. He's a little infatuated these days...

One.Tough.Chick.

There are a lot of theories out there about how kids develop their own personalities. Some say birth order plays an important role, others look to gender stereotypes or parental involvement. I'm not sure what school of truth I buy into, but I can say that the end results - these unique, amazingly different personalities our kids have - is facinating.

Lindsey, for example, is one tough chick. If you follow the birth order theories, she's the baby of the family. This means she's likely to take risks, is highly competitive and can be equal parts charming and manipulative. Have you met her? Check, check and uh...yeah. Check. Taking these traits into consideration, it's no wonder she's already had several black eyes and has made a couple trips to the ER for nurse maids elbow.

Her and Ryan play rough (hence the two trips to the ER), but it's more than that. She's fearless. One could argue she's careless versus fearless, but she's also a smart little kid. You can see that brain working through a million scenarios at once and she picks the one that has the greatest risk, but greatest reward.

Right now, that risk/reward conflict may net her a black eye, but also earns her a prized toy.

It may net her a skinned knee, but earns her a ride on Ryan's big boy bike.

It may net her a dislocated ligament, but earns her bragging rights of being the first one down the slide and the first Bachman kid to rock a splint and sling (and when you're the baby of the family..."firsts" can be a pretty big deal).

Right now these risks and rewards are both minor, thankfully. I thought I had gray hairs now...wait until she's a teenager.

Can you say, adorable?

Twice a day, five times a week, I embark on a 15 minute car ride with Ryan and Lindsey, either going to daycare in the morning or leaving from daycare in the afternoon. Those combined 30 minutes are always the most unpredictable part of my day.

Sometimes there is crying and whining. Sometimes I am bombarded with a cacophony of stories from their day. Sometimes it's blissfully, yet eerily silent. Regardless, no two,15 minute trips are the same.

There are some constants, though. Ryan always tells me to stop at the stop sign leaving our development (and berrates me if I don't). Lindsey always points out every truck, bus and tree she sees along the way and proudly grins when her words are acknowledged and praised. And it's usually a great opportunity to hear some classic one-liners from Ryan. Yesterday morning he sweetly said, "Mommy, I love Lindsey. She's my best friend." That afternoon? "Mommy, I have a headache. Tell Lindsey to stop talking." Classic.

Our conversations are mostly held via the rear view mirror, since I can't turn around and it's sometimes hard to understand what they're saying without looking at their lips.

Now that Lindsey is picking up more words every day, she's much more inclined to join the conversation. Which is great...except they compete for my attention. "Mommy" is uttered at least 200 times each trip. Lindsey even ups the anty and adds hand clapping to her efforts if I don't acknowledge her quickly enough (which doesn't work, by the way. I refuse to be summoned by a snappy 18 month old.). Despite all of this, I relish these trips. They are a great exercise in parenting. You learn to tune out the negative, refine your skills of persuasion and distraction and engage your children in fun, yet educational, games (I spy, anyone?).

This morning was another 15 minute drive in. They were fairly calm and well mannered. Lindsey pointed out her first bus of the day and was excited to hear the, "Good job, Lindsey!" in return. Ryan, in a "Best Big Brother of the Year" mood, decided he would join in and help with the encouragement. It went something like this:

Ryan: "Lindsey, can you say gas store? Can you say gaaas stooore, Lindsey?"
Lindsey: "Ga So"
Ryan: "Mommy she said gas store!!!!!"
Me: "Good job, Lindsey."
Lindsey: Eyes closed, chin out, toothy grin.
Ryan: "Can you say five, Lindsey? Can you say fiiiive?"
Lindsey: "Fi"
Ryan: "Mommy, she said FIVE!!!"
Me: "Good job, Lindsey."
Lindsey: Eyes closed, chin out, toothy grin.


It continued for most of the ride in. The whole exchange reminded me of a comment Lindsey's teacher said yesterday. Lindsey is learning to say her teacher's name and Miss Kelsey was so excited when she realized Lindsey's "Ahsey" was her way of saying Kelsey. She said, "It was really cool, but it makes me kind of sad because it means she's growing up."

Yeah...I feel that way a lot.

Love, Squared

When I was in college, I thought I would be a hot shot and join the honors program. While not all of my classes had to be "honors level," there were several classes each student needed to take in order to graduate as part of the honors college. One such class? Honors calculus.

I need to be very clear here. I. Hate. Math.

In high school, I managed to squeak by with the least amount of math classes ever. I never took physics. On my first day of Algebra the teacher gave us a 3x5 card and asked us what we'd like to have learned by the end of the semester. I wrote (like any snotty sophomore in high school would) I wanted to know what A equaled. I never did figure that one out.

My disdain for math is, essentially, why I became a communications major. It was the least likely major I knew of to have required math classes.

So when I found out I had to take an honors calculus class, I panicked. I scheduled a meeting with my advisor to very clearly explain to him that I was a smart kid, but I wasn't that smart. I would never pass an honors calculus class. Ever.

He smiled. He assured me that, not only would I pass, but I would likely get an A. He explained there were two honors tracks for the calculus course. One for math majors and one for non-math majors. I wasn't convinced. I pleaded my case some more, but it fell on deaf ears. He told me to give it a week and if I was still worried, maybe I should reconsider my place in the program. Hater.

So I reluctantly went to my first honors calculus class. Honestly, almost everyone else in my class looked as terrified as I did. I don't remember much of that first day, but I remember the professor saying, "I know many of you are concerned about how well you will do in my class. I can assure you - if you walk out of here with less than an A, I have not done my job."

Turns out? I don't think I ever solved a single equation. The class was less about the numbers and more about the process. Why did calculus exist? What did it teach us? How could we apply the equations in our every day world? Yep. It was a writing class. We wrote essay upon essay about calculus. Plugging in equations when necessary to prove our point, but never really needing to solve for an answer. My crowning glory? An eight page paper on discontinuities.

I give you this background information for two reasons. One: I was damn proud of that eight page paper. Two: it goes to the point of this post.

There are a lot of things about being a parent that you can't fully appreciate until you are, in fact, a parent. Lately, one of those things has become exponentially apparent (no pun intended). There is an amazing, overwhelming feeling you experience when you witness those you love - be it friends or family - loving your children. When Lindsey is quick to snuggle into the arms of a dear friend without hesitation, it's magic. When Ryan battles his Poppy on the floor in an epic pillow fight, it's enchanting. Even in passing, when people talk of our kids with a sense of pride and love that I thought only we, as their parents, could have, it's breathtaking. More precisely? It's love, squared.

Or, as my honors calculus professor would prefer: Love²

From a cub to a lion

Last year, Nate took Ryan to his very first Penn State game. They drove up and back (over 6 hours round trip) in one day and made it through half a game. That might sound like madness to some, but it was completely normal and natural for Nate. State College was his home for many years. And though he hates admitting he's an alumni now, he proudly talks of the many antics he got into when he was still labeled a student.

It will be many years before Ryan hears even a portion of those stories. In the meantime, though, he'll experience the magic of Beaver Stadium. Which apparently is a little overwhelming when you're two.

That was the face he made the entire time they were there. I call it - stunned silence.

Fast forward a year and things are much different. They once again made they trek up and back in one day, but this time managed to stick out for three quarters. Ryan, who not only can bust out the WE ARE PENN STATE chant as good as the next guy, also knows how to spell Penn State, knows exactly who JoePa is and was ready to get his game on without hesitation.

It was hot that day. People-passing-out-from-heat-exhaustion hot. But our little lion clapped, cheered and chanted, which made his daddy proud and the exhausting trip worth every mile.