Squiggles, protector of canines

It was a bit nippy out today, but we decided to go to the pond anyway.  Squiggles brought her Golden Retriever, because she can’t go anywhere without it.  She has been taking it to preschool with her.  Yesterday I told her that the puppy wanted to stay home and sit on the couch while she went to school, and she said, “No Mama.  My doggy want see Miss Mama!”  (“Miss Mama” is what she calls Miss Aimee, her beloved teacher.)

We stopped at our usual spot to throw rocks in the pond and admire the geese.  One particularly loud goose got out of the water and walked toward Squiggles.  She stared him straight in the eye and shouted, “No eat my doggy!”

I came too:

It was a beautiful day.

P.S.  This is the new baby.

The Birds and The Bees, Version 2.0

We’ve tried to prepare Squiggles for the fact that she is going to have a baby sister this summer.   This has proven a bit tricky since her limited vocabulary prevents her from understanding phrases like, “dilated cervix,” “your world will be turned completely upside-down and you will be filled with sorrow and rage” and “please don’t jump on the fetus.”

One of the professors I work with is German and introduced me to Pregnant Barbie, who apparently is very popular in Europe but was banned in the US for promoting teen pregnancy (despite the wedding band painted on her finger).  I’m not a fan of Barbie in general, but this one is brilliant.  She has a magnetic, removable belly with a little baby inside!

My professor let me borrow the Barbie because the doll was apparently highly effective in explaining to her son that he was going to have a younger brother.

Miss Squiggles LOVES the Barbie (so much that we bought one on Ebay), and Tim sat down with her and explained the facts of life (Toddler version) using the Barbie as a tool.  I’d like to tell you that everything is all clear now, but there is a fairly important point of confusion that remains to be clarified…

My daughter has been insisting that she is pregnant.

The truth of the matter.

Squiggles has had a verbal explosion over the last couple weeks, and now provides a running commentary on everything she sees, hears, and observes. 

“Oh, blue cup!”

“Mama car mess.”

“Dada burp.  Dada rude.”

Etc.

Tomorrow Tim has to take a clinical skills exam, where he will give various exams to fake patients.  Tonight we were looking  for his reflex hammer in our office, which doubles as a spare room and is where we store various odds and ends.  In other words,  it’s crowded in there. 

As we awkwardly tried to get around each other, we bumped in to each other a few times.  Mostly, Tim had to climb on the bed or flatten himself against walls whenever I (and my belly) needed to get by. 

Squiggles watched our careful maneuvering intently until she found the words to sum up the situation.  She turned to Tim and said matter-of-factly:

“Mama big.”

Well, I do like my dad…

It’s my dad’s birthday.  He’s the greatest dad / grandpa / neighbor / guitar teacher / homework helper / gadget collector /rock skipper / cattail boiler  EVER.

I wrote this poem a couple years ago:

Ode to my very favorite Dad

A hundred million years ago
On sunny springtime day,
A baby boy arrived and said
Let's go outside and play!

He quickly learned to swim and ski
And fish and sail and hike
The mountains were his second home,
And his best friend a bike.

He flew jet planes and hang gliders
And chased the rising sun,
And found a wife and seven kids
To join in all the fun.

The children's lives were magical
With huts and courts and swings,
Sailing trikes, canoes, and bikes,
Sleepouts and trampolines.

The children grew but they all knew
That life was not a bore...
He'd taught them how to find adventure
Outside every door.

Still he climbs up every hill
Through rain or hot or cold,
And all who know him love the boy
That never will grow old.

 

I love you to pieces, D.A.D.!

2-year (spontaneous) photoshoot by Cami

Getting this girl to look at (or even near) the camera is a feat worthy of a Nobel prize.  Getting her to smile whilst looking at the camera is nothing short of a miracle.  Thanks, Cami!!!

The Fells

Inspired by my parents’ thrill-seeking adventures (check out The Dickeyfam to see their latest dangerous hike to Angel’s Landing), we decided to take a similar hike around some nearby reservoirs. 

The hike pretty much the same as Angel’s Landing (read: there was dirt involved), and had some seriously scary exposures (read: there were a couple rocks that reached at least 8 or 9 inches off the ground).  We’re pretty hard-core.

Squiggles was the bravest of all, jumping off cliffs at least two or three inches high and running about like a wild child.

We couldn’t have completed our four-mile journey without stopping for sustenance. 

Squiggles decided the dirt made a right-fine plate.  I tried to explain about nematodes and spore-formers, but she wasn’t really interested.

Finally it was time to head back.

We said goodbye to the wilderness and drove the five-minute road home.

On about a Saturday morning

Last week, we went over to Lance and Dani’s for some awesome breakfast burritos.  Afterward, we took a walk at Mt. Auburn Cemetary, where Mason tried desperately to go swimming and will probably never forgive Aunt Cami for refusing to let him jump in the pond.  Bryn… kind of reminds me of her mother, no?

The children insisted on climbing on every structure we passed (Mason not photographed… he was trying to jump in a lake).

Miss Squiggles was in heaven walking along with two of her favorite people.

At Lance and Dani’s pad, Bryn decided to take a rest.  Because she is adored by all the other children, they decided they had better rest as well.  (Mason not photographed… he was trying to escape to go run up and down the hall.)

Later that night, I was desperately craving Texas Roadhouse rolls (and their cinnamon honey butter).   Squiggles adores the peanuts they give out.  Tim kept telling her not to eat the shells, so she would pretend to eat one, and then laugh hysterically when Tim said, “Nooooooo!” and pry it out of her teeth.

Squiggles loves the rolls, too, and cheered, “Yay ROLLS!”  when they arrived.  Our waitress kept them coming, bless her heart. 

Melinda Moo

Twelve years ago, I asked my friend Melinda what she wanted to do for her birthday.  She didn’t hesitate before saying, “I want to hike to the wind caves.”  Obviously.

Melinda grew up across the street from my family.  To say she is one of my best friends doesn’t quite do the relationship justice – she is absolutely one of the family (nobody would disagree).

So we hiked the wind caves.  We left at about 8:00 in the morning with our lunches packed and water bottles filled.  When we returned that evening, our bottles were empty, our faces were burned, and our clothes were filthy… markers of a successful trip. 

This might seem like any other springtime hike unless I mention that Melinda has cerebral palsy and uses crutches to walk.  There were sections of the hike where we had to belly crawl up and over large rocks and carefully maneuver around steep  patches where the spring runoff had eroded the trail.  Our clothes were severely torn, and many of Melinda’s toenails fell off during the following days. 

Why would she do that?  Because she’s Melinda, and when Melinda decides she wants to do something, there is no stopping her.

A couple years previously, she decided she wanted to hike to Hidden Falls in the Tetons.  So we did, with my little brother Lance in tow, amidst a torrential downpour.  We laughed the whole way and had the time of our lives.  I’m pretty sure all we ate were bowls of captain crunch, tuna fish sandwiches, and an assortment of Frito Lay products (courtesy of our not-exactly-legal dumpster diving activities on the way to Jackson) for three days straight.

I’ve been on so many camping trips with Melinda it would be impossible to count.  She is always up for an adventure, and refuses to let her disability prevent her from living life to the fullest.

Aside from having an awesome sense of humor and being willing to sleep under the stars on a slab of sandstone, Melinda is probably the most compassionate person I know.  If you’ve ever been to a funeral with her, you know she doesn’t let anybody grieve alone.  When a former beau and I decided to call off our engagement, she sobbed with me on her front porch and went on many walks with me so I could talk out my anguish. 

When I had my baby in Utah six weeks early, she brought over about a thousand darling outfits and hair ornaments, as well as a case of formula and a huge pack of diapers.

She is a true friend, and I hope she chooses to be buried next to the Dickeys in Millville cemetery someday (at least 60 years from now). 

In the meantime, happy birthday, dear friend!  I love you forever and ever and ever.

(Melinda’s birthday is actually tomorrow…)

Georgia, the last.

Whilst in Georgia, we spent some time leisurely walking about the neighborhood.

It was on such a trip that Miss Squiggles discovered that there was something following her.   She was initially intrigued by this phenomenon, but grew quite agitated that it wouldn’t leave her alone.

Aunt Jen came with us one morning and took us to a park.  It had been a while since Squiggles had been in a swing.

Do you think she liked it?

We of course had to throw some rocks in this water, which apparently leads to the ocean.

I was delighted to see that people have palm trees in their yards in Georgia.

And also I was delighted to see so many flowers so early in the year.

The only downside to our mini vacation was an encounter with what the locals call “sand gnats” or “no-see-ums.”  We were outside at dusk watching our nephew play a baseball game, and we all got attacked by the barely visible crustaceans and took home dozens and dozens of bites on our arms, legs, feet, and even between our toes. I thought I hated mosquitoes, but now I know that mosquitos are barely worth caring about.  These pests leave bites that itch and burn intensely… for almost two weeks in my case. 

Here is a picture I swiped off the web (not my legs):