Granddad/Pop-Pop turns 97! Happy birthday!

So much stuff has happened since I last blogged, including a Davis family visit to a church (finally!), a bunch of cook-outs and visits from friends; I finished book one of Game of Thrones; Michelle our nanny got MRSA (!!!), so we had a bit of a panicky scramble trying to figure out childcare for this week (Lester ended up taking the week off); and lots of other interesting things to blog about.

But tonight the boys start soccer practice, so I know I'll want to blog about that tomorrow. Which means I HAD to get one very important thing down first. My Granddad turned 97 on Aug. 30th!! Isn't that a blessing?!

We all got together to celebrate him over Labor Day weekend. We had birthday brunch and the menu was off-the-chain. Grits, corned beef hash, eggs, waffles, pancakes, cinnamon apples (which I made and they were goooood), sausage, two kinds of bacon, coffee, orange juice and then...CAKE.

The kids had a blast playing with their cousins and eating everything under the sun. I loved seeing all my family together - even my brothers, who are usually MIA. And we all loved thinking about the blessings that my Granddad's near-century of living has brought. The older I get, the more I realize that family means everything. I'm grateful to have such a big and boisterous group of people who I love and who I know love me.

97 and still smiling!

Granddad and my sister Kadija.

Granddad doesn't move out of this chair, so we all had to pose for pics with him here.

Matty and Clair waiting for food.

Isn't Matty the cutest?

My boys love Auntie Hira!

My oldest nephew, Kalonji. Can't believe he'll be 13 in November.

My brother Rashad's daughter Nasya, Aminah, Kalonji, Kwahli and Russy.

Nasya, Matty, Aminah, Kalonji, Kwahli and Russy.

I love how Matty is looking at Dean. His little face cracks me up!

Kwahli and Alahna

My brother Rashad! So happy to see him!!

My Dad did most of the cooking. Everything was delicious!

Clair had on a pretty dress, but she spilled my whole cup of coffee over on herself and me. So we had to change her clothes. I had to walk around in coffee-stained clothes.

The Holmes Family.

My Mom put 97candles on Granddad's cake. It took three people to light it.

This is what it looked like all lit. Call the Fire Marshal! Seriously, after he blew out the candles, we all almost choked from the smoke. LOL.

Granddad is so special he had to have two cakes! Kadija and her family brought this one. Dean said, "How did trees get on a cake?" And Cary said, "They just grew!"

This man has been alive almost 100 years. He still eats any and everything he wants. He is healthy as a horse. And sharp as a tack. I said to him, "Let's do this again in another 97 years." He said, "I'll be here!"

My sister and me, doling out cake.

Clair was soooo tired, but not too tired to eat cake and ice cream.

Twins!

Dean and his Granddad. I hope Dean and Cary get to celebrate HIS 97th birthday!

My brother Haleem showed up -- late, of course. But he came!

Haleem and Cary!

And just because we were there  marveling at Granddad's 97 years, we had to pull out the photo albums. Such GEMS in here! I could look at these old photos all day.

That's my Granddad in 1973 giving my Dad a look that says, "Why won't you cut your hair?!"

That's my beautiful Grandma holding my Dad in her arms. Isn't she amazing?

My Dad!

That's my Grandma on the right and my Aunt Pearl. Aunt Pearl was a hot ticket, wasn't she?  I think my sister Tahira looks like her a little.

And just for good measure, that's my Mom (weighing in at 90 lbs.), holding me as a little baby, and kneeling next to me in my stroller. We're in front of my Grandma and Granddad's house -- the same spot where I took the picture of Matty with the hula hoop!

Anyway, it was quite a stroll down memory lane and quite a marvelous day. I'm so happy my kids got to be a part of their Pop-Pop's 97th birthday. I hope they'll get to be a part of his 100th!

Winter 2013: The season of museums

Happy New Year!

I am back at work and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. It's amazing how quickly you can get out of a routine. My body still wants to pad around in pajamas and raid the refrigerator 15 times a day -- not sort through emails and Outlook appointments and invoicing problems. In fact, I am having trouble keeping my mind off of all the fun we had over the holiday break.

Sometime around Thanksgiving, I declared this winter the winter of museums. I wanted to start getting the kids out to see all of the wonderful things there are to see in our area museums. I intended to start in January, but since we had some time off to fill, we started last week. And somehow, we ended up doing three museums in three days!

On Saturday, Lester took the boys to the Baltimore Museum of Art, which is very close to our house, so I don't know why we don't go there more often. (Especially since it is free!)

He said the boys really enjoyed looking at all the art, and looking for "babies" and "animals."

"Look Daddy, I see an animal!"

Little art historians in the making.

He looks like he is really studying this.

On Sunday, Lester wanted to take down our tree, which was shedding pine needles at an alarming rate (and Clair was eating them just as quickly). So I decided to take the kids out of the house to my Mom's. My sister Kadija's kids were there, as usual, and my Mom really needed a break from babysitting, so on a whim, my Dad and I decided to take all the kids to the Smithsonian.
Kadija's 12-year-old opted out, so it ended up being me and Dad and SIX kids, including little baby Clairzee. We took the Metro on one of the coldest, windiest days of the year, but the kids had so much fun, we barely noticed. (Ask me later about my Dad's "shortcut," that had us walking around D.C. searching for the Museum of Natural History for an hour! On the coldest, windiest day of the year.)

At the Metro stop, waiting with their cousins for the train. Clair's off to the side in a stroller, kicking off her blanket no doubt.

The boys LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the Metro (which is also a hashmark on my Synapse Checklist. Ch-ching!) And the dinosaurs at the museum. And being around all their cousins.
It was a hectic, cold, crowded, long day. But their sheer joy was totally, totally worth it.

Their first ride on the D.C. Metro! They even met the conductor, which was to them the equivalent of me meeting Pharrell or Larenz Tate or Idris Elba.

Walking to the museum with Granddad. I heart this picture.

And then on Monday, New Year's Eve, we met up with our friends Geoff, Stacey and Hugo (who is also 2) for an event at the Maryland Science Center, which included party-hat and noisemaker stations, a performance by the band Milkshake, and a 12 noon ball drop and confetti bomb.

Again, this place made my boys SO incredibly happy. They had a supreme blast! They loved the kids' room (we had to literally pry them out of there); they danced along with the band; they made party hats, and they shrieked with delight when the ball dropped and burst, blowing yellow confetti all over the museum.

Hugo and a small glimpse of alllll the confetti! (Photo by the awesome Amy Davis, who was covering this event for The Sun!)

Cary, Dean and Hugo: Men at work.

Making a New Year's Eve party hat.

 

So, quite accidentally, I'm already well ahead of myself when it comes to the season of museums. Yay!

Next on the list: Hopefully meeting up with Beth for the "Play, Work, Build" exhibit at the National Building Museum; hanging out with Stacey and Hugo again at the Visionary Art Museum; meeting up with my sister and her kids at the new Children's Museum at the national harbor, and locally, the Walters Art Museum, the B&O Railroad Museum (otherwise known as the Train Museum) and more Maryland Science Museum -- because that place is so awesome, we bought a membership!

Lester and I did set goals for the year (not resolutions. Goals.) and one of them is to continue to find fun, enriching things to do as a family. I'd say we're off to a pretty good start.

2013 -- Bring it.

Little Brown Baby

My Granddad, who the little kids call Pop-Pop, is 96 years old. Have I mentioned this before? It's a little amazing, typing it out that way. 96-years-old. That's 4 years away from being 100. Craaaazy!
And a blessing.

Granddad is pretty stationary, as the result of some kind of stroke-like thing that happened many many years ago. But other than being unsteady on his feet, he is the picture of health. He has no chronic diseases, lives independently, eats like a horse (and whatever he wants, whenever he wants) and most importantly, has all his faculties.

In fact, my Granddad simply amazes us with his quick wit and his ability to pull random bits of information and history from his brain at the drop of a hat.

Here's just one example:

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, we went to his house to visit. We sat upstairs with him in his TV room (which is the room my Dad and Uncle Harrison shared as babies/children) and chatted about politics and current events. Cary and Dean were tired and hungry, so they were being especially clingy to Lester, and not interacting much with Pop-Pop.

To get their attention, Granddad turns to Cary, leans in close to his face, and recites a poem:

LITTLE brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,

          Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee.

What you been doin', suh -- makin' san' pies?

          Look at dat bib -- you's ez du'ty ez me.

Look at dat mouf -- dat's merlasses, I bet;

          Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his han's.

Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit,

          Bein' so sticky an sweet -- goodness lan's!

He missed a few words, and I never heard him say "Maria," but for the most part, he nailed it. And then he leans back in his chair and says, "Paul Laurence Dunbar."

Wouldn't you know it is a Paul Laurence Dunbar poem, called "Little Brown Baby." Seriously, where'd he pull that from? I can barely recite my name and address if caught off guard. How does his brain retain and retrieve that kind of thing?

I'll never know -- but I hope to be half as sharp as he is when I'm pushing 100.

And I know my boys won't remember this day or that recitation, but I LOVE it that I can record the moment here, so they will forever know their Pop-Pop was a font of information and culture, and wanted to share it all with them, his great grandsons, little brown babies of mine.

Fun fact: This little brown baby is sitting on the very bed her Granddad slept on as a child. Isn't that cool?

Moving out of the way -- a little too fast

There's a saying among my aunties and Grandmas and their friends about babies and walking.

When a child starts walking, they usually say, in a knowing voice, "Mmmm-hmmm. Getting out of the way for the next one."

Meaning, somehow the child intrinsically knows that Mommy is going to need to free up her arms for a new baby -- either one who is already cooking, or who is soon to be created. So the child starts walking, making carrying him or her around less and less necessary.

This certainly turned out to be true in my case. I found out I was pregnant at the end of June, and Cary and Dean started walking 4th of July weekend. You should have heard the clucking among all my female relatives. Their truism had been proven right again: Cary and Dean were "getting out of the way for the next one."

Since then, they have been making strides toward independence steadily and impressively. They can go up and down stairs on their own, and have even started -- unprompted -- trying to navigate stairs on two feet, instead of on all fours. They are doing much better about using a fork at dinner. They have started saying "poop," and pointing to their diapers, after pooping. (Yes, I know that is closing the barn door after the horses are out, but it shows they are aware of their bodily functions and have a name for them -- one step closer to potty-training.) They understand more and more, and their language skills constantly blow my mind! Cary and Dean both use time-related words like "after" and "almost," which is really advanced (in my opinion), and Cary has started saying things like, "Mommy, too" when he wants me to join in a fun game of twirl around the room until you're so dizzy you fall down, or some such. And Dean said, "Wuv you," to me two nights ago on his way up the stairs for his bath -- without me saying it first or asking him to say it. He just said it. On his own. As Cary blew me kisses. Ummm, color me wrapped around their little chubby fingers! I absolutely swooned. They are amazing.

They've even started doing things that are developmentally appropriate, but scary! Trying to walk down the stairs, instead of crawl, as I mentioned, is one thing. Be still my heart!
But the worst is the running. Oh, the running.

Here's a story for you:

This weekend, I took the boys by myself to my parents' house so Lester could paint Curve Ball's room (the green turned out really pretty and not Mountain Dewy at all!! Yay!) On Sunday, I decided to stop off at my Granddad's house in DC to visit him, since I hardly ever get to see him and he's 96 and lives alone, and loves, loves, loves to see the boys. I pulled up in front of the house, and got the boys out of the car one-by-one. I took their hands to walk them up Granddad's front steps, and they BOTH refused. "Nooooo!" they yelled. "No. No. No!"
No amount of pleading, cajoling or bribing could get them up the porch steps.
So I decided to walk up the steps myself to put all my bags down and I just sucked it up: I was going to have to carry them (as hard as it is for me right now to do that) one-by-one up the steps.
As I turned to come down the steps, both boys took. off. running. I hobbled down the stairs as fast as I could, but not nearly fast enough to prevent both toddlers from running INTO THE STREET!
Granddad lives in the city, not on some suburban cul-de-sac. And they ran, not into the narrow street that Granddad lives on, but into the cross street, a hugely-busy, wide main thoroughfare, that is normally teeming with speeding cars.
My heart literally was pounding out of my chest. I SCREAMED at them to stop, but this - of course - just made them laugh, as they ran down the middle of the street at top speeds, one straight down the middle, the other veering off at an angle.
I honestly thought I was going to lose it.
Me and my big pregnant belly, tired and sluggish and unable to move quickly -- running after these two boys who had somehow gotten super-quick, seemingly overnight! It was horrible.
I finally caught up to them, and had to basically drag them back up the street. They were both fighting me and pulling away; Cary even sat down in the middle of the street at one point. I had to use real force to get them out of the street and onto the sidewalk.
And then, I eventually had to muster the strength to pick them BOTH up at one time, one tucked under my right arm, the other under my left. They kicked and cried and fought against me! It was a real struggle, and one I've honestly never experienced before with them. By the grace of God, I was able to heave and pant and plod my way into my Granddad's house, where I literally dropped them both -- crying and angry -- on the floor.
And then I burst into tears.

Praise God (seriously) that there were NO cars coming down the street in either direction (this is really unheard of). And Praise God neither the boys nor I fell during this scary scene.

Later that night, Lester and I made a joint decision that I can no longer go out by myself with them while a million months pregnant. And I'm fine with that. I don't need a scare like that again anytime soon. Lord knows I don't. Ugh! (Thinking about it now still makes my heart race.)

As I look back on that day, and their ability to RUN away from me, I see that they really are getting bigger, stronger, faster, and more willful and independent. In other words, getting out of the way for the next baby.

I know I'm going to need to focus on Curve Ball when she gets here, and that I'll need them to be big boys who help Mommy, not hinder me, while I'm trying to take care of a wriggly, screaming, needy newborn.

But I have to say: I liked it so much better when Cary and Dean wanted nothing more than to stand right by my side, holding my hand, happily following Mommy's lead.

I know this is natural. And necessary.

But I already miss them. Their little hands in mine. Their baby-ness. Their needing me.

It may be true that they may have to move out of the way for their little sister.

But I wish they didn't have to move so fast -- and so far.