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heard on the street

"Mom, I have two things I will do for you when I grow up. Brush your hair, and protect you with bow and arrows."

-Oscar, to me this evening

Eight, nine, ten, eleven months

Dear Fife,
 
Can I say that maybe I don't write about you as much because I'm too busy enjoying you? I think it's at least partly true; I find myself enjoying your babyhood more than I have in the past. It's also just that three kids and a bigger job keeps you busy in general. Sometimes I start a draft for your monthiversary but don't get far enough to publish, but in any case I make lists in my head as the months go by.

So now you are almost a year old; before that happens I will add to my fragmented unpublished notes [in italics] and look at the pictures and try to remember.

Eleven months:
This is now! For a few more days. At some point over the last several months you learned to say more words: In addition to Mama, we have Dada, Ca for Cat and Kiss, Dah! for dog, and sometimes Ba or Nana for Banana. Also, the milk sign with one fist and two, as the situation calls for. Still scooting, much faster, and now standing for very short bursts; I don't think crawling is in the cards. I finally started putting your hair up in a ponytail to get it out of your face; with that, your round cheeks and your sticking out ears, two separate people have compared you lovingly to a baby troll (I hope when you grow up you think that's as funny as we do).

You love the cold water from the pool or a lake, or especially the Jamison Fountain, but you can't stand the bath. Also, shoes--you can't stand shoes.

Ten months:
[At ten months you love to feed yourself. You devour whole bananas that I've partially peeled (and if I take my eyes off you sometimes you also devour part of the peel in your haste--it's not uncommon to find you happily diving into the banana from the side). You gnawed on ribs for the Fourth of July]; you love fists full of sweet potato or sticky rice. Also slices of peach, mango seeds with a circle of flesh, and anything you see on your brother or sister's plate.

Nine months:
I wrote nothing down about this month but I'll tell you clearly what the best thing was: you started cocking your head to the side, looking for a new take on the world. You'd turn it very severely and look at us and smile, and then one day Lucy said that it was just your superpower--that when you cocked your head to the side you could see everyone's weaknesses. And just like that your smile seemed more knowing, and we were glad you couldn't tell us what you saw.

I think this was also the month when you also started scooting, first dragging your legs around like they were dead weight, then at some point realizing that they might do a little pushing too. 

Eight months: 
[Eight months finds you screaming, shrieking at the top of your lungs.] This shrieking went on for awhile. It was a a preview for us, opening a window into what you like when you aren't willing to go with the flow. Which mostly you still are, you are a lovely and flexible third child, except when you want something you want it NOW and you want ONLY that thing and woe unto us if we don't know what it is.


We love you so much baby Fife, almost a baby no more!

Love,
Mama

now and then

Lucy blows out a birthday candle, 2016

Lucy blows out a birthday candle, 2015

Fife and her daddy

Fife and Shaggy from Amber Broughton on Vimeo.

negotiation

TT lost her first tooth and it turns out that the Tooth Fairy at her house leaves $10 for each tooth (vs. the $1/tooth that Lucy has been raking in).

Lucy took matters into her own hands:

If you need help, it reads:
"Dear Tooth Fairy, I would like an extra raise on my money. Please give ten dollars under my pillow tonight. Please respond."


So far no response from the Tooth Fairy, though Nana was impressed by Lucy's initiative and found a ten-dollar bill in her wallet to donate to the cause.

heckling for independence

This year on the Fourth the kids heckled the fireworks, shouting at them to be bigger and louder until they were, and then they ran away and danced in the smoke.

I sat on a bench with my foot wrapped with ice in an ace bandage; it was itchy and doubled in size from when I stepped on a bee when leaving the beach two days before.

We lit the sparklers in anticipation of dusk. After the sun went down the adults wore hooded sweatshirts but the kids that were sitting preferred being snuggled in blankets to stay warm, and who can blame them.

At the end of the night Lucy pronounced herself "Dance Dodge Champion of the World." Four days later she is still blinking to get all that smoke out of her eyes.

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lucy wants a pet

but so far we have just killed (let die?) a caterpillar, a potato bug, and a butterfly.

RIP, friends. You were loved.

pictures of June

my favorite picture of Oscar (right now)

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cabin-ing, now and then

In April we celebrated Ilona's birthday with our second annual weekend at a cabin in Rhododendron, with a huge backyard that backs into a creek and a wall full of windows that looks out on Mt. Hood. All the adults except Charlie took naps, and the kids played down by the river all day long.

On the last day we took a photo on the couch, just like last year; everyone is in the same place except Lucy and Oscar switched sides and Fife is out:

April, 2016

April, 2015

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hawaiian revue

Oscar: "I really want to go to Hawaii again. Can we go to Hawaii again?"
Me: "What was your favorite part of Hawaii?
Oscar: "Nothing. The whole thing."