Tah-Dah!

I feel like a genius every time I turn the heel on a sock, but today, I feel especially brilliant because I finished Elizabeth's little dress. It is, by far, the most complicated thing I have ever knit. It has multiple yarn changes, different types of stitches, and pleats. I had to Kitchener the shoulders together, and then un-Kitchener them because I attached the wrong ones. Whoops. I called my mom cursing about that one.

I do still need to crochet the trim around the neck and sleeves and then block the whole thing, but I couldn't wait that long to take pictures of my sweet girl in her new sweet dress.

In which I prove that I'm an idiot

My little point-and-shoot camera takes video, but apparently I am too stupid to use it. I wanted to shoot a video of Campbell playing on my dad's treadmill and this is what I got.

Somehow it escaped me that I can't simply turn the camera on its side while shooting video.

It was a vacation

Many people asked whether visiting my parents qualified as a real "vacation," and they all seemed to be surprised when I said that it did.

Yes, there was the stress about the plane flight, and there was the havoc my children wrecked at my parents' house. Here's a picture of the living and dining rooms to prove that they made a huge mess.

But I still had fun.

I enjoy spending time with my family. We all share the same odd sense of humor, and I laugh harder with my parents and sister than I do with anyone other than my husband. And even though I've never lived in my parents' house, it feels like home to me. Being there just makes me feel better.

Plus, with my mom, dad and sister there, I had three extra pairs of hands to wrangle children. My mom took delight in catering to their every whim - giving them ice cream and snacks at the drop of a hat and picking Elizabeth up every time she started to even look the slightest bit unhappy. My dad took the big three to the pool every day; my parents' neighbor said he looked like he was leading a string of ducklings up the hill to go swimming.

Thanks to their help, I was able to do things I don't normally have the chance to do at home - like read, take naps, and knit. I also got a ton of paying work done during the first three days of the trip.

So, yes, it was a vacation, and a very good one at that.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig

Yesterday evening I flew home from Atlanta with the kids, and I have nothing exciting to report. With my sister's help, we got the kids through security and to the gate. The kind gate agent let me pre-board, and a nice family let me switch seats with them so that I could actually be next to my kids. OK, so there was a mix-up with the seating, but it was easily resolved, so that doesn't count as exciting. The kids behaved well, even Campbell, who was beyond exhausted.

The sweetest moment of the day occurred at the Austin airport. As we came down the escalator, the kids spotted B waiting for us. The girls sprinted down the last few steps and ran for daddy. Campbell had to wait until we got to the bottom because I wouldn't let him run down, but once he touched the ground, he bolted straight for B, climbed up him and held on for dear life. It was like a moment out of a Hallmark card commercial.

It made my tired heart melt.

More than I ever thought it could be

I have always had a love-hate relationship with the American Girl Doll phenomenon. On the one hand, I hate the rampant commercialization of the dolls and all of their paraphernalia. The dolls are so expensive, as are all the outfits and magazines and books, and kids can't help be be lured in by the "lifestyle."

On the other hand, there is my life-long love of all things miniature, and I think the dolls and all their gear are pretty cool. If we had the room and disposable income, I might be tempted to have my own dolls doll.

There is an American Girl Doll store about 15 minutes from my parents' house, and on Wednesday, my sister and I took the girls there for a treat. I hadn't initially planned on going, but at the last minute I decided I couldn't miss the fun.

When we got there, Ella went into her quiet mode, clinging to my hand and whispering about everything. Lily, on the other hand, acted like she owned the place, darting here and there and dragging my sister along to see everything.

We had told the girls that each could pick out one outfit and one accessory set. I thought the girls' heads would explode from all of the choices available. Lily zeroed in on an angel outfit, but when I told her she couldn't also get the the very expensive matching flute set, she started her search again. Ella picked out a Depression-era schoolgirl's outfit and backpack set. Lily finally settled on a cute 1950's bikini and sandals outfit and a snack set.

Once we made our purchases, we went to the Bistro for dessert. The Bistro was filled with mothers and daughters and dolls, who had their own high chairs to sit in and menus to order from. We sat at the soda counter, along with Ella's doll Hermione and Lily's doll Ginny. The girls were silent as they watched everything going on.

Ella ordered an ice cream sundae that was almost as big as her head. She didn't even come close to finishing it. (That's Aunt Sarah in the background.)

Lily ordered chocolate cake with ice cream and whipped cream and strawberries. She was too busy looking around to eat much of her treat.

When we left, I asked the girls what they thought of the place. Ella said, "It was more than I ever thought it could be."

So, yes, American Girl is rampantly commercial, but it's also lots of girly-twirly fun. I'm glad I got over myself and went along for the fun. The looks on my girls' faces was worth every minute.

Havoc

The kids and I are in Atlanta visiting my parents this week. So far, much fun is being had by all, and I have a bunch of posts about our trip stacked up.

My parents live in a fairly large (especially compared to our house) home that is filled with interesting artwork and photographs, oriental rugs I'd be willing to kill for, and family heirlooms and antiques. It is also a very comfortable house with big squishy sofas to relax in. Even though I've never lived here, it does feel like home.

And my children are doing their best to reduce it to rubble. Within 12 hours of their arrival, the kids had scattered toys in pretty much every room of the house.

The girls dragged the big bin of Legos up from the basement and emptied it in the entryway, right in front of the door, guaranteeing that anyone entering the house would skid out on the infernal little blocks. After a day of having everyone trip, I made the girls move their Lego village to the living room, where it grows by the day, when Campbell isn't playing Godzilla and crushing all the houses while laughing maniacally.

The dining room has been taken over by Campbell's new race track and cars, and the kitchen has one of those big foam hopscotch sets across it. The breakfast room is littered with Elizabeth's toys, because she noodles around on the floor while we all sit at the table to eat.

The family room has turned into Campbell's personal gymnasium, and despite my best efforts, he leaps from sofa to chair to sofa to ottoman. We had near disaster the other day when he went crashing through the tea party for 6 that Lily had set up on the floor for her and her dolls.

Even though I've restricted the kids to the kitchen for snacks and meals, they are still managing to spread cheerios and pretzels and crumbs all over the place. I chase them around several times a day, vacuuming in their wake. (And by the way, I want to marry my mom's vacuum. Sorry B.)

Campbell is wrecking his own special brand of havoc on the house. The other night he was playing up in the TV room while watching "Bob Pants," when I heard a crash and then him wailing in terror. He'd somehow managed to knock a huge, heavy piece of framed artwork off of one of its nails, sending it crashing into a neighboring wall. Fortunately, Campbell wasn't hurt and the glass didn't break. And the ding I though Campbell had put in the wall had already been there. When I asked Campbell what had happened, he said "It fell!" And when I asked him what had made the frame fall, he wailed, "MEEEEEEE!" He's given that corner of the room wide berth since then.

Last night my mom said that she couldn't figure out how the loveseat in the family room kept moving out of its proper place. Almost as if on cue, Campbell came running across the room and dove head-first into the loveseat, shoving it a good six inches backwards and answering my mom's question.

My parents built this house 20 years ago, but it may not survive until the end of the week.

I'm glad that's over

We survived our trip to Atlanta, but just barely in my case. I spent most of the day as a nervous wreck and finally broke down and took a tiny speck of Xanax in the hopes that it would help, but it didn't. As my husband will attest, I don't handle situations that are essentially out of my control very well - and pretty much all of yesterday was out of my control.

Things did not get off to an auspicious start. Even though I had checked in online, we had to stop at the check-in counter to get a gate pass that would allow B through security with us. There were three counter agents and four customers, and yet it still took us 20 minutes. The guy behind the counter apologized repeatedly for the delay while I stood there and vibrated from fear that we were going to miss our flight (I have a thing about being late). At some point, but I don't remember when, the counter agent handed me a driver's license, which I put in the pocket of the sling I was using to carry Elizabeth. He then handed B a gate pass and sent us on our way. At the time, neither of us thought to question why the man hadn't asked to see B's ID.

When we got to the entrance to security, I fished the driver's license out of the sling pocket only to discover that it belonged to some man I'd never heard of. I frantically pulled out my wallet, afraid that I'd somehow lost my license, and find it right where it belonged. I gave it and the other license to the TSA agent and explained that I had no idea who the man was. He gave me a very strange look. After he finished checking our boarding passes and figuring out who was who, he asked B for his gate pass. It was then that we discovered that the name on the gate pass matched the name on the stranger's driver's license. The driver's license that I fished out of my pocket. The TSA guy gave us another very strange look, like we were trying to pull something. But what a couple with four kids could be trying to pull is beyond me. The TSA guy told B he couldn't let him through without a gate pass with his own name on it. We had a quick discussion about whether he should go back to the Delta counter to get a pass with the correct name. I quickly vetoed the idea because of how long it had taken us the first time.

So we kissed B good-bye and waded on in to the security lines, which were mercifully short. All I'll say about going through security is that it was every bit as chaotic as you could imagine trying to get four kids, two car seats, and three carry-ons through would be, but we survived. The TSA agent who had dealt with us at the entrance came over to screen our stuff. He really seemed suspicious of us.

But from that point on, everything was smooth sailing. Campbell had a blast watching all the big planes coming and going while we waited to board. The gate agent took pity on me and allowed us on the plane first. The flight attendants carried Campbell's car seat to our row and gave us extra cookies and sprite during the flight. The four kids behaved perfectly throughout the trip, even Campbell, who never complained about being in his seat. They were so good that passengers around us complimented me on their behavior.

We got off the plane to find my sister, who had bad news. My mom thought our flight arrived two hours later than it did, and she and my dad had just left the house, which is an hour from the airport, to get us. It's a good thing my sister called them when she did, or we would have had an even longer wait.

In the meantime, we herded the kids through the teeming masses, rode the underground train, and got some dinner. But I am very glad my sister was there to help. I'm not sure I would have made it through without her assistance. Campbell was bound and determined to get separated from us.

Eventually my parents arrived, and we headed for home, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. We had a few glitches, but none that made it necessary for me to have a nervous breakdown or to cook and eat one of the children.

I hope our return trip goes as well.

Crunch

Thursday was my birthday, and even though I was in a funk about getting older, I had a good one. I started with a mani-pedi at a swishy salon and ran errands without children in tow. In the afternoon I took a two-hour nap while B kept the kids entertained in the blow-up pool in the back yard. And then B and I went on a date together while his mom babysat the kids. Excellent all the way around.

But the best part was when we got home from dinner. My m-i-l had supervised the girls while they made a birthday cake for me, and she let them go nuts decorating it. They used an entire container of pink sugar sprinkles and at least half a container of nonpareils. Plus they added extra decorations with pink frosting, M&Ms and 12 candles.

It was, without a doubt, the most decorated cake I've ever had. And the crunchiest.

There were so many decorations that when I blew out the candles, I sent a shower of sprinkles and nonpareils across the table, which the girls thought was hysterical.

All in all, it was a very good day.

Bedtime bliss

Last night I escaped the house for an evening out with the divine Wendi Aarons - we had a good dinner and then did some shopping and bookstore trolling. It was a real treat.

When I got home, a little before ten, the big girls were still awake and watching a movie with B. I crawled into bed with From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, which I bought for Ella but decided to re-read for old time's sake.

B stopped the movie to take a call from his dad/business partner, who is heading into the wilds of Canada for a two-week rafting trip, and the girls got antsy waiting for B to come back inside. I invited them to crawl into bed with me, with the warning that they had to be still. I'm not sure how long we lasted before all three of us were sound asleep. B came in and snapped a picture.

Unfortunately, the flash woke me up, but I'm glad to have this picture. B carried the girls off to bed, and I went back to sleep. Falling asleep snuggled in with my big girls was a lovely way to end the day.

Happy Love Thursday.

Crossing the line

There's a fine line between brave and insane, and I think I'm about to cross it.

On Saturday I am flying with the four kids, but not B, to my parents' house in Atlanta for a seven-day visit. Everyone keeps saying how brave I am to attempt this, but I think I really fall into the "insane" category. I suppose it all depends on whether I can pull off this adventure without killing or losing a child or becoming a raving alcoholic or checking into a psych hospital for a "rest."

Since I planned the trip, I've been constantly talking about how "easy" it's going to be, like if I say it enough, it might actually come true. Or I'll actually believe it.

Here's my argument for why the trip will be "easy."

1. B will be able to get a gate pass and sit with us at the Austin airport until our flight leaves. I won't be wrestling four kids and gear through security by myself.
2. The flight is less than two hours, and it's direct.
3. The big girls are seasoned travellers, especially Ella thanks to last weekend's trip. They'll have books and notepads and such to keep themselves busy.
4. I'll be strapping Campbell into his carseat to keep him contained throughout the flight. He hasn't managed to escape his five-point harness, yet.
5. My sister is flying into Atlanta on the same day and is planning to hang out at the airport and meet us at the gate to help wrangle everyone.
6. We won't have to pick up luggage because I've shipped everything ahead of time. Each girl will carry a backpack with her books and a change of clothes, and I'll have a bag with changes of clothes for me and the little ones.

I keep going through this list and telling myself everything will be fine, really.

But then I start thinking of reasons why the trip won't be easy - like getting four kids, four carry-ons, a stroller and two car seats through security, even with B's help, and onto the plane, without B's help. Or the specter of Campbell's having a meltdown mid-flight and all the other passengers wanting to toss him out the window. Or Elizabeth, who's going to be a lap baby, coming apart at the seams and wailing. Or having some sort of weather or mechanical delay that causes us to sit in the plane, on the ground, in Austin for hours and hours on end.

Yeah, I'm definitely insane.