Last weekend was full—in the best way.
On Friday night, a high schooler who lives across the street babysat the girls while Eric and I went to the opera. We dressed up, met up with friends, had a fancy schmancy drink and enjoyed the Portland Opera’s The Magic Flute. We hadn’t been to the opera—something I truly love—since last Valentine’s Day.
On Saturday we met up with a friend and his kids for a round of disc golf and swimming in the river at Milo McIver Park. Then we went to my brother’s house, where we played corn hole and let Peeper plant cucumber and lettuce seedlings. To round out the day, friends and their baby came to our house for dinner.
Finally, on Mother’s Day, we drove up Mt. Hood for a hike along the Salmon River.
On the drive back home, I reflected on the packed and truly fulfilling weekend. It struck me that we never could have pulled off all those activities—some planned, some impromptu—just a few months ago. Read more
Then it began to rain. We all went inside to say our goodbyes and eat a last deviled egg (or eight). But Peeper did not bother with such trifles.
She also moves by whale tale splash, a special move she’s waiting to patent. While on her back, she lifts her entire body up to her shoulders and slams it back down on the ground. She swivels around like this and, by all measures, looks very proud of herself.
She’s pretty much obsessed with Big Sister. Peeper can do no wrong. Even when she is hitting Kiwi in the face with a pom pom or grabbing toys away, Kiwi stares and giggles.
Cookie sprinkles, a rented movie and a rainy hike: this is what our Valentine’s Day dreams are made of.
Walking under the Douglas firs, I reflected on how much has changed in a year. We have survived our share of rough transitions—from one to two kids, from the rock n play to the cosleeper, from not sleeping to sleeping sometimes.
