Adventure in the Wasatch

Active.  A great friend recently commented to me how impressed she was that my little family makes it a priority to stay active together.  And in all seriousness, Tim and I do everything for our kids. Part of my joy in raising my daughters lies in the oppportunities for fun that we routinely experience.

L1 is just barely three years old, and has "skiied" at a top ranked ski resort , and stayed at the 5 star hotel that sits mid mountain.  She has been to a half dozen Pac12 football games, and as many NBA games.  She has the same birthday as famed Olympian, Stein Eriksen, and has had her picture taken with him on their birthday, every year for the last two years. She has ridden horses regularly(luckily we own those), and has snowmobiled through Wasatch State Park.  She has opportunities I never had as a child, and I love that we are able to provide these things for her and her sister.  This week, we went as a family to something new to all of us; we went dog sledding!  

London could not believe we were combining two of her favorite things: sledding and dogs.  I couldn't believe how strong a pack of 8 medium sized dogs could be.  My brother couldn't believe the size difference between these sled huskies and his prized Alaskan Malmute at home, and my husband was amazed at the absolute lack of fear our 3 year old exhibited throughout the entire adventure. 

We met our mushers at a beautiful lodge, hopped aboard a handful of snowmobiles, and proceeded up the hill a bit to where the dogs are kept.  Two full sized sleds, one red, one blue, each sat waiting with 8 dogs harnessed, jumping, barking their hellos, all anxious to run.  My brother and London rode together, Tim and I took the other sled.  We took some time at the top of a beautiful overlook for pictures, and the dogs are fast fast fast!

Our guides talked to us about the history of the area, and the sport of dogsledding, all while driving the sleds.  They even let each of us try our hand at mushing, and London could not have been more thrilled. 

After dogsledding, we were able to snowmobile for 2 hours, and covered some beautiful, snowy terrain.  The boys had time to run the machines as fast as they could go through some open bowl areas; later we traveled up to the top of a mountain, and looked right into Wyoming.  It was a beautiful view I'll never forget. 


I can't wait for our next adventure!

Not always easy, but always worth it.

Raising small children is a difficult commitment, a commitment that, if taken seriously, is 24hrs, 365.  I've recently heard from a lot of mothers who "can't handle it," and "it's just too hard", and "I need a serious break".  Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I thrive off spending as much time as possible with my daughters.  At eight months, and three years old, it isn't always a cakewalk, but I find myself sincerely missing them every time I'm away from them, and loving all the minutiae that goes with raising babies.  My eight month old squeals when I come home from work, and reaches for me as only a baby can.  Her chubby little fingers open and close, until she has wrapped her little arms around my neck, and nuzzled her head into the curve of my neck.  My three year old loves to show me all the wonderful new things she can do.  She begs me to read to her at least twice a day, and we love making imginary concoctions in her little kitchen.  (She baked a lovely "crème brûlée" in her little Le Creuset ramekin.)  They're only going to be little for a little while; I'm maximizing all our experiences, and taking advantage of the fact that I am still the most important person in their lives. 
While it's not always easy, I have to say that the challenges fade from my memory, almost as quickly as they occur, and it is the instances of perfection that cement themselves in my mind. 

Tim says it's because I have the "mom gene."  I'll take it as a compliment. 

NYE of a Different Persuasion

Remember those days when New Year's Eve was the BEST holiday of the year?  Anyone who claims it's not a "real" holiday has obviously never woken up with the same hangover that they had after a memorable Fouth of July, arguably the most recognized party holiday ever!  All kidding aside, I've had more than my share of memorable nights, ringing in the New Year as loudly as possible, with as many people as possible.  Times Square? Done it!  Tim and I had the craziest night of our courtship history on NYE the first year we met.  Friends are made, drinks are passed, cigars are smoked, clothes are ruined, shoes are lost... It's all in good fun! 

Who wasn't at Port 'O Call on NYE?

NYE takes on a different tone once you have more than one baby.  All of a sudden, the idea of getting all dolled up and drinking and yelling, followed by having a stomach ache or worse, puking, seems eerily similar to every other night with an infant.  (And the messes my toddler can create rival any made at the local bar.)   I love that instead of craving a night out on the town, the only thing I wanted this year was to relax with my husband and sweet girls.  "We'll cheer and toast at midnight, and then we can just go to bed!"  I decided that although we were having a casual night, we were still going to have fancy dinner.  I hit Whole Foods just before they closed, and proceeded to stand in line at the local liquor store for almost a half hour.  (Liquor store on NYE?  Seriously? Brilliant.)  But no nice dinner is complete without a beautiful bottle of Justin Vineyards Isosceles and I knew it would compliment my ever perfect, dependable Asiago Chilean sea bass, with pancetta crumbles.  I know, red wine and fish?  But we gnoshed on imported cheeses and artisan bread with a beautiful Chateaux Montelena chardonnay.  Rest easy, oenophiles.  We only made a half faux pas.

Dinner was a huge success.  I'm lucky I married a man who loves my cooking.  And the girls were absolutely adorable all night.  We attempted to get a family picture for the new year, but this is what we ended up with.  I wish you could see the beautiful gold and cream dresses they were wearing, but without a professional photographer living at my house, I'm unable to secure professional prints.  Instagram will suffice in this instance.    

L1's 3rd NYE

My little L2's first NYE.  Not happy about being in a dress at 9pm.

So how does this story end?  The girls were out of their dresses after about 20 minutes of fighting for pictures, and proceeded to laugh the night away. L1 played with her new kitchen she got from Santa, and L2 was content to make faces at Daddy until she got tired and fell asleep on his chest.  This was around 9pm.  At 10pm, both L1 and Tim fell asleep, making my "down" count 3 of 3.  I looked at my sleeping triple threat and decided I would wake them at a quarter to midnight, and continued my NYE duties of folding baby laundry.  But when the time came, I just couldn't wake them.  I knew not waking my husband would elicit some disappointment the next morning, but I simply couldn't do it.  So at midnight, I kissed each one, told them I loved them, and wished them each the best 2013 imaginable.  And then I got in bed, and promptly passed out.  We woke up on New Year's Day, all four of us in one bed, laughing and happy.  Best New Year's Eve to date.

Number 2 Should Get To Go Through Being Number 1

L1 and L2, my darling daughters.

When I found out we were expecting another daughter, I experienced a beautiful mix of excitement and unenthused déjà vu. "Another girl? Sweet! Sisters! This is going to be a nice revisiting of the familiar." And much of the experience of raising a second girl has been just that. Changing a diaper on a baby girl is the same the second time around. Dressing an infant girl is pretty much the same task as it was three years ago, except for the fact the clothes have gotten cuter and more expensive. Nursing baby girl number two is figuratively no different from nursing baby girl number one. Things with L2 have been so easy, in fact, that I know the knowledge I gained from raising L1 is in full effect. But that's the probem. I'm a seasoned mom, at least with the infant to preschooler stages, and I'm behaving like it. My L2 has not been privy to the weeping and mood swings of an overworked, sleep-deprived senior medical student mother. She doesn't know of the, "Oh, God! I can't believe I just did that!" exclamations (both out loud and silently to myself) that came with the learning curve of becoming a new mother.  But at the same time, because I am more comfortable in the role of a mother to a baby girl, I feel that L2 is getting the short end of the deal. Don't get me wrong, I love her more than I can express. She is just as adored, pampered, nurtured, and spoiled as L1 was, but I do not do everything with the same newbie trepidation I had before. I don't obsess over all the little details and decisions the way I did with my first baby.  For example, I know that if I need to get her dressed in a mismatched hurry, she will be no worse for wear. If I can't find organic, natural baby wipes at the store, her little bum--that adorable, squeezable bum--will survive. I didn't buy 2 wipes warmers this time around; I've actually forgone the entire wipes warmer mess. I didn't throw a 20+ person dinner party for her 100 Day Celebration. (We had 12 guests over for an intimate, no less extravagant dinner.)   I don't bathe her for a half hour every single time she spits up, and I did not buy a new pack and play--I figured she could use the "new" one her sister never wanted to be in until she got a baby sister to play in it with. I don't love her any less than I do London, and lately, with a sometimes difficult preschooler, I flee to the untouchable solace, peace, and rejuvenation that is possible when I take my second into a quiet room, just the two of us. I let Dad and L1 figure out the tantrum that seems to be announcing the end of the world, while L2 and I cuddle in the dark... But it is often during these mini escapes that I find myself feeling most guilty, as if this lovely moment in time is a recurring reminder that I'm not doing enough for this second baby because I'm simply less neurotic than I was with my first. I worry about her less, and it leaves me feeling remorsefully guilty. What's more, I'm feeling like a bad mom in a different way than I did with L1. With L1, I dealt with the guilt of never being around due to my schedule, the guilt of being tired, the guilt of wanting only to sleep while I rocked her, instead of eating up every baby sound, smile, and smell. My guilt with L2 is completely different. I am not working right now, so I am at her beckon call. I'm not exhausted beyond my sanity, because there are days that the two girls and I just sleep in. But I feel guilty for not being the perfectionist mother I was with L1. I feel guilty that I have not filled out her baby book religiously (which reminds me, I need to buy a baby book for L2). I feel guilty I haven't looked up organic baby food recipes, or steam-sterilized every inch of everything in my home. I feel guilty when I take any time away from L2 to reprimand L1.
But when L2 is sitting on my lap, watching L1 play at my feet, I know her smiles are for her sister. The joy she obviously displays when her sister teases her, and the way she sleeps like a rock when L1 is cuddling her in the preschooler's bed, well that, I know I cannot produce without L2 being the second child. And these moments are perhaps more important to her than having a worrisome, perfectionist mother. These moments, I lock securely into my memory, well-catalogued via photos or blog entries, for ease of retrieval and reliving. So maybe I am still a bit of that neurotic mom I thought no longer existed.

Now, to find the perfect baby book...