Happy Birthday, Sylvan: 47 Months!

Posted by julie on Thursday, 13 August 2009, 1:12

sylvan_camping1

Dear Sylvan,

As you and I sat on the shore of Crescent Lake, soaking in the morning sunshine, Diamond Peak dominated much of the horizon in front of us. “When I was up here four weeks ago, there was so much snow on that mountain,” I told you. The snow had reached in unbroken slopes from the summit ridge to treeline. “There is still so much snow up there,” you countered. I said I might climb Diamond Peak next weekend. You looked up at the mountain. “I want to go with you.”

sylvan_happyhiking

I smiled. I do want to hike and explore with you; I want you to climb big mountains with me in ten years. Honestly, though, I’ve avoided hiking with you in the past couple of years. Preschool whininess has defeated me, I’m sad to say. But you and I hiked the trail alongside Crescent Lake last weekend, following far behind Grandma Diana with Elena on her back. You displayed curiosity, wonder, and pure joy. You, the Toadmaster, found FIVE toads, three in one little tunnel-burrow (or barrow, as you say). You bounded up the mountain bike jump and soared off it. You told Grandma Diana, Elena, and me a story on the way back about the driller bug dinosaur, the fossil of which was right in front of us on the trail. You described its eating habits and that the holes in it (this upturned, silvery stump – shh!) were how it had been born.

sylvan_frogumbrella_goggles

You’re becoming interested in dinosaurs, more as a concept than a category. That they’re extinct gives you something to think about. How long ago were they here? How can you put 265 million years ago into context when you’re not even four? I’ve given in twice now and let you watch Barney on Netflix as I put Elena to sleep. You liked it, which I just can’t understand, but what you said to me was, “Barney’s a dinosaur, but he’s around at the same time as people.”

sylvan_mower_pinkglasses

You, Elena, and I traveled to New York last month to attend a couple of family reunions and visit Gramma Mia and Grampa Dick. I needed you to be a big boy, a good traveler, and you didn’t disappoint. You traveled like you’d been flying since you were four months old. Okay, you have been. In fact, when we went to the mall, the Galleria in Poughkeepsie, you asked if we were at the airport. We must be doing something right if you recognize an airport but not a mall.

Love,
Mommy

sylvan_dancingonbridgecape

I had to be loud

Posted by jonesey on Wednesday, 24 June 2009, 6:22

Overheard on our June camping trip:

Sylvan: [Loud, sudden scream, high-pitched, with stomping of feet and flapping of arms.]

Chris: [shocked and a little worried] Wow.  Are you a bird?

Sylvan: No. I just saw an exclamation point, so I had to be loud.

Yes. Of course you did.

Yes. Of course you did.

For Leslie: A Post

Posted by julie on Sunday, 14 June 2009, 2:05

I’m surprised I remember how to log in and post on this blog.

After a late evening of escape with two good friends and a hot fudge sundae, followed by watching the Glee pilot on hulu.com, I’m ready for a quick, no-nonsense post. Here are some photos of our kid-luscious, yard-filling party two weeks ago, taken by the only member of our family who wasn’t occupied with hosting (e.g. re-filling the cracker basket, giving house tours) or being completely charming but relatively useless (no naming names). The photographer has his Daddy’s eye. Here are his photos in their true stream-of-consciousness wandering order:

backyard

sandbox

Mommy close-up

Mommy close-up

mommyshead_cup

Landing pad and paths, completed a few days before the party

Landing pad and paths, completed a few days before the party.

Playpen used by at least three babies during the party

Playpen used by at least three babies during the party.

Of course these are still party pictures. This is our mitre box.

Of course these are still party pictures. This is our miter box.

Continuing with our garage tour, these are some bike wheels.

Continuing with our garage tour, these are some bike wheels.

The photo I asked for - Tejana in scarves.

The photo I asked for - Tejana in scarves.

photographersfeet

One of five photos of this downspout Sylvan took - and not all at the same time.

One of five photos Sylvan took of this downspout.

Overheard while someone was eating cashews

Posted by jonesey on Thursday, 21 May 2009, 19:32

“Daddy?  They taste like crunchy hammocks.”

Happy Birthday, Elena! 9 months

Posted by julie on Wednesday, 20 May 2009, 22:22

elena_grass

Dear Elena,

You’re wonderful and sweet and smiley, and, regrettably, I think I’m going to have to limit this to a list and some photos.

Elena works on her Elvis impersonation. Too much tongue?

Elena works on her Elvis impersonation. Too much tongue?

elena_waterfeature

Ooh, sprinkler

  • You started crawling 10 days before you turned 9 months old.
  • You started moving from crawling to sitting a few days after that. Before that point, you’d often hang out in a reclining Botticelli position, working your oblique abdominal muscles, trying to push yourself to sitting. Now you sit up effortlessly. You still like that lounging position, though.

elena_asleep_hendricks

  • You’re sometimes shy around strangers, asking to return to Daddy or me if you’re a little unsure of who we’re handing you off to. You warm up quickly, though, and you still flirt with everyone we meet at the grocery store.
  • I read that baby fat reaches its peak around 9 months. It’s true. You’re a chunk.

elena_sylvan_swing

  • I’m writing this five days after you turned 9 months. Since then, you’ve started pulling yourself to standing. That baby fat is going to start melting away now; I mean, you’ll be running tomorrow. Or maybe it will just feel that way.

Love,
Mommy

elena_chris

No Babies Were Harmed

Posted by julie on Thursday, 14 May 2009, 21:57

…in the making of this photo, despite its similarity to this scary image.

photo courtesy of Dennis McCarthy

photo courtesy of Dennis McCarthy

Overheard on an airplane leaving Eugene

Posted by jonesey on Wednesday, 13 May 2009, 17:18

“Daddy, I saw a shape in the reservwater,* and it looked like a sock!”

* Fern Ridge Reservoir, just west of the airport.

To tide over those who await birthday letters

Posted by julie on Tuesday, 12 May 2009, 16:43

Check out these kids:

Sylvan, Wynnona, and Cole hunt for eggs

Sylvan, Wynona, and Cole hunt for eggs

Compare them to these little cuties.

Indigo Girls, 10 May 2009

Posted by julie on Monday, 11 May 2009, 0:44

We don’t have their last four albums. And we wore earplugs because we know that leaving a concert with our ears ringing bodes poorly for our hearing – and because we’re old. But Amy Ray and Emily Saliers are older than we are by about a decade, and that hasn’t slowed them down (much. Emily sang at least one song down an octave, either to protect her voice or because she couldn’t get there). We were four people back from the stage, after showing up 45 minutes late and missing the whole opening act because we were eating salad rolls (they were tasty and we were hungry, but, apparently, Matt Morris was great). The women in front of us made sure I could see for the whole concert. I love Eugene.

Amy referenced their opening for the Grateful Dead in Eugene and seeing Jerry standing in the wings when the Girls were on, so this, Eugene, is “sacred ground” for them. Because many bands think of Eugene this way, they keep coming back, and I appreciate that I don’t have to live in a big city to see Ani Difranco and the Indigo Girls every year or two.

Anyway, when you haven’t bought a new Indigo Girls album in nearly a decade, most of the set list is new stuff. But nearly all of it was either beautifully harmonized or rockin’, and all of it was well-performed. And they ended their set with Closer to Fine and their encore with Galileo. I bought my first concert T-shirt since Billy Joel’s Storm Front, and it’s a much classier shirt, made of bamboo and organic cotton, for either exactly the same price or five bucks less, nineteen years later. A fan couldn’t really ask for more. Thanks, y’all.

Indigo Girls at the McDonald Theater in Eugene, Oregon, May 10, 2009.

Indigo Girls at the McDonald Theater in Eugene, Oregon, May 10, 2009. Shot with Chris's overrated iPhone camera.

5/12 note from JP: Oh, that’s funny. I didn’t realize my husband was one of those concert-goers, since he was behind me the whole time (me being barely over five feet and all). I mean, look at this guy with the shaved head in the plaid shirt. He looked like that pretty much the entire time we stood behind him. You’re at a concert, dude; put the camera/cellphone in your pocket and enjoy the show!

Natural History Notes: 30 April 2009

Posted by julie on Friday, 1 May 2009, 0:44

Each night, just before I slip into bed, I listen through the closed window in our bedroom to a western screech owl’s call, sometimes likened to a ball bouncing and coming to a stop, since the hoots at the end of the call are in closer succession than those at the beginning. A western screech owl got me my job at the Museum of Natural History when I was a graduate student.

We’ve also had a visiting red-breasted sapsucker. Well, he might be a resident, but, if he is, he’s only recently taken to hammering on stop signs. We’ve caught him tapping on nearby signs two or three days this week. I haven’t yet managed to get his picture, since I often have a rather loud three-foot-tall human with me.

Today, as Sylvan, Elena, and I ate lunch at Mt. Pisgah, a hummingbird thought Sylvan might be a nice, bright yellow flower. It motored over and hovered two feet in front of Sylvan before realizing its mistake.

Following are some photos Sylvan took at Mt. Pisgah. I hadn’t noticed the lacy shadow pattern, but Sylvan caught it with the camera.

path_shadows1

shadows2

Meadowrue

Meadowrue

We had a great time at Pisgah, staying for longer than we intended. Sylvan threw rocks into the river for a while (fun for anyone, but physically impossible to resist for those with both an X and a Y chromosome). He also handed some to me, requesting that I throw them in.

“Here, Mom, throw in this one that looks like a piece of pizza.” Splash.

S: “Here’s one for you. It’s an aklak.”
J: “A what?”
S: “An aklak. All of them can be shaped like aklaks.” (This word evolved over the course of our rock-tossing time.)
Ker-plunk.

S: “Here, Mom, throw in this one that looks like poop.”
Laughter, first from me, then from Sylvan. Cylindrical, tapered at the ends. Yup.

Sylvan with an aklak

Sylvan with an aklak