Stubborn Suzanne

To continue the "[Adjective] Suzanne" series, let me present Stubborn Suzanne. The picture above was taken when we were at Plumper's Farm ("Never again!") buying pumpkins and spending too much money. Admittedly, it was cold and damp. That said, just because it is cold and damp doesn't mean you should refuse to wear your boots. However, that is just what Suzanne did. Her feet were cold in her un-insulated rubber boots, so she decided she would not wear boots at all.

"But," you are asking, "how can one walk around a cold, damp farm (with the threat of stepping in the poop of multifarious creatures that every farm presents) in stocking feet?!"

An excellent question, perceptive reader. The answer is: one cannot.

After Barb and I exhausted our extensive repertoire of incentivizing, cajoling, threatening, wheedling, ordering, begging, etc., I ended up carrying Suzanne around for an hour with her cold feet in the pockets of my sweatshirt.

Then she was happy.

Stylish Suzanne

The Two-Child Dilemma

I remember being at Anson's house when I was a child, and his dad coming home from a business trip of some kind, and presenting his two children with identical gifts (for some reason, in my no doubt flawed memory, these gifts are identical Animal House t-shirts and identical yellow Sony Walkmans). I thought it was kind of weird at the time. (Which I shouldn't have, given that Mom had purchased for my two older brothers and myself identical leather Fonzie jackets from Charney's not too many years before, which purchases were probably good at mitigating sibling rivalry, but which caused untold trouble when we went to a new school [George Washington Elementary] after moving to Syracuse. Walking into school as a trio of Happy Days greasers, we were derided as Baldwinsville gang members, among other things. I fought somebody on the very first day of school on account of that jacket. I'll always remember it, because the playground was covered in gravel -- and not little pea gravel, but big honkin', flinty pieces of gravel; the kind one could reasonably fashion into arrowheads, or knifepoints -- and that gravel was integral to the hurt I lay on the kid I was beating up for making fun of the Fonzie jacket my Mom had bought to avoid us brothers fighting.)

Which brings us to the hair-bow struggle.

We were getting ready to go to a dinner party, and I made the amateur mistake of offering a ribbon I'd found in the basement to Suzanne as an incentive to encourage her to get her hair done by Mom. She loved the idea. The problem was, Elizabeth loved the idea, too.

So I went looking for another ribbon. Thankfully, I found a beautiful red ribbon that coordinated with Elizabeth's unseasonable Christmas dress. Unfortunately, we cut her hair short the month before. Where Suzanne could flaunt a close-to-the-nape pony tail that looked like something out of an illustrated fantasy novel about unicorns, Elizabeth could muster only a stubby tail, like one of Jay Gatsby's docked polo ponies. To say that she was unhappy with this would be an understatement. There was an explosion of grief.

Suzanne's beautiful ponytail.

She's pretty happy with her 'do.

Elizabeth's short, high, and reportedly uncomfortable ponytail. Note the grimace in the mirror.

Elizabeth hated hated hated the high ponytail Barb was forced to tie.

Parents are constantly balancing their need for peace and quiet, versus their perceived need not to spoil their child, versus the child's need for whatever it thinks of in that millisecond as being fair and right. If there's a winning formula, somebody please publish it and make a million bucks. I'll buy the book.

As we move forward in this relatively new world of parenting two kids (remember, Suzanne hasn't turned three yet), I struggle all the time with this discrepancy problem. For instance, Elizabeth has a treasure box that we bought for five cents at a yard sale. But now Suzanne has grown up with the understanding that kids have treasure boxes. But she doesn't have a treasure box. So she piles her treasures (mostly filthy bird feathers and fir cones) on our bookshelf. Recently, we bought a brand new treasure box for her. It cost $23.00.

Halloween Two Thousand Thirteen

Let me get this off my chest right away: Halloween is the hardest holiday to photograph. It's dark, the kids are running around like madmen, and the light sources are odd (not to mention spooky!). I don't have a fancy camera. I do the best I can with what I've got, but year after year it's not very good.

Despite my photographic frustrations, we had an awesome time this Halloween. Elizabeth wanted to wear the same costume she's been wearing for three years: Gemma the Witch (although this year she dispensed with the red hair and green face, thank goodness). Suzanne was content to throw on the cow costume we got as a hand-me-down from someone (Joshi and Billi is a good bet). It's cute and comfortable, and who doesn't love a cow?

We met up with Aaron and Wendy and Lily and Kai. I was the only lame-o without a costume. Barb took Elizabeth's suggestion and went as The Ocean (blue bathrobe over blue shirt, various marine animal cut-outs pinned to the robe, wave crown on head, and smartphone playing wave sounds in pocket). Unfortunately, Aaron and Wendy showed up as "Sick and Tired Mom/Dad" wearing bathrobes, which took a lot of wind out of the sails of Barb's costume. She just looked like another bathrobe wearing parent, except she had a paper crown for some reason.

We trick-or-treated for three or four blocks, then headed back home. There were a lot of people out and about, which was nice. When we first moved to this neighborhood, almost no one trick-or-treated. Barb and I feared that the tradition (which, if I remember my childhood correctly, was so much fun) was dying out.

Well, if it died, it's back with a vengeance, like the ghost of a man executed for a crime he did not commit.

Suzanne (L) and her friend and neighbor Ani (R) at the Southeast Indoor Park. Not sure who the kid in the middle is. 

The girls prior to heading out to either Trick or Treat the neighbors.

Suzanne, Barb, Aaron, and Ani outside of Ani's house.

Lily and Kai as Little Orphan Annie and The Great Pumpkin. Lily looks annoyed because it took me a long time to get my camera to focus in the pitch darkness.

Elizabeth inventories her loot. As usual, after gorging on candy Halloween night, Elizabeth was asked to pick out four pieces of candy to keep. The rest went onto the front porch for the Candy Fairy. Failure to give to the Candy Fairy results in no candy at Christmas. Pay it forward.

Aunt Cindy Visits!

What a pleasure it was to have Aunt Cynthia visit. The occasion was Mom's birthday, but Aunt Cindy stayed with us (as she did last time she visited Portland, prior to Suzanne's birth) and Barb and I got some quality hours with her.

Cindy has always been the parent-generation relative that seemed more like my generation. Even when I was quite young, I had the feeling that I was following in her wake, rather than leaving her and her type behind (as, I think, kids are supposed to feel about the prior generation as they forge the new reality). She's younger than Mom by a few years, but some combination of personality, happenstance, and experience (I imagine), rendered her modern in a way that my other (beloved!) relatives of her generation are not.

She's the cool aunt.

It was very comfortable having her as part of the household, if even for a few days. The girls seemed to enjoy her company. Cindy and Mom took a long drive out in the country. We went to the Chinese Garden and to the Hopworks Urban Brewery. Mom took Cindy to the Barley Mill. It was fun and satisfying.

Elizabeth flips through the guidebook at the Chinese Garden while Suzanne abides.

Our family.

The sisters consult.

Aunt Cindy reading to Mom a plaque on the subject of motherhood. I can't remember the particulars, but it was beautiful.

Tea with the Larrison girls.

Suzanne: Then and Now

March 19, 2011.

September 28, 2013.

Last Camping Trip of Summer

Sunset (or was that sunrise?) in the north woods.

I decided not to entitle this post "Last Camping Trip of the Year" because, who knows? This post is out of order, because I'm getting caught up on catching you, dear reader, up on our events of the last couple of months. There's a lot! For a family that likes to do less than the rest, we certainly have been active.

In early September, we went camping with Anson and Alder. This is most unusual! They live in Seattle, we live in Portland. Sometimes it seems like they live on the Moon, we live in Pellucidar. But we both made an effort, and met somewhere between the two cities in the beautiful, mossy, rain-soaked woods.

It was a long drive. The girls were fantastically well-behaved in the car, despite the fact that we only got out to stretch our legs once, and briefly at that. They are both good travelers.

Elizabeth was very excited to see our two friends. I think she admires Alder a lot, and feels that Anson vies with Pat for the title of Silliest Man Alive. Suzanne didn't know what to expect, but was game for anything.

We had a good time, just hanging out. There was a short hiking trail we managed to spend hours exploring (with a lengthy stop at the rocky riverside). The river was roaring and muddy from the recent rain. I had hoped to go swimming, but the water, even where it was not capped with white, was too muddy even for me. And it wasn't very hot, unless you were hiking in corduroys and a sweatshirt while carrying a 36 pound girl in footsie pajamas. Then it was hot.

Anson and I got to go on an adventure to find split firewood. The campground host was out of wood, so he pointed us toward a private party that sold wood cheap. A five mile drive through the backwood roads took us to an expansive property full of outbuildings and rusty equipment and cord upon cord of wood. A nice old fellow sold us some at five dollars per wheelbarrow-full. I think we spent $20 and filled the back of the Volvo practically to bursting.

Elizabeth listens intently to Alder reading Little House on the Prairie.

Little Camp in the Big Woods -- Barb bought a pavilion in case it rained. It didn't, but it was kind of fun to have, knowing we could shelter under it if the weather took a bad turn.

The Wood Nymph.

When the sun came out Saturday, the whole wood steamed.

Suzanne and Elizabeth inside a huge, rotten stump. They are hugging puppets (Oliver and Clara, respectively -- Joey doesn't travel much, being both fragile and too precious to chance losing). The inside of the stump was dotted with little red beads of fungus.

Mist on the river.

It's not camping without marshmallows. Surprisingly, Elizabeth likes her 'mallows burnt and black. The one pictured is undercooked to her. This is surprising because she likes her meat rare and her corn frozen.