Back from the Beach...

We are back from a few days R & R at the beach. Except that there is nothing either restful or relaxing about taking this crew anywhere away from home!

The girls enjoyed nearly every minute. They love the beach and the eating out and the kiddie rides on the Boardwalk. Francesca slept in a big girl bed for the first time and they called it their "sleep-over".

My dear husband was oh-so-mad about the gear I had to pack but if you leave for a day you might as well leave for a month....

Anyway, we are back, the laundry is underway, and I'm packing away the swimsuits and beach towels until next year. I sure hope it's a short winter. I can't wait to see the ocean again.

She's Only 3

She looks so grown-up today on her first ever day of school in her swirly pink skirt and those marvelous pink shoes and the matching socks with the charms. But she's only 3.

She sauntered into her classroom like she'd been doing it so long it was time to submit her thesis. But she's only 3.

She can spell her name and Dora's, count to ten in Spanish and draw self-portraits that include her Shirley Temple ringlets. But she's only 3.

Her vocabulary is filled with words like "definitely" and "fabulous". She calls her younger sister "honey" as she lectures on the finer points of things like capping the markers so they don't dry out. But she's only 3.

She maps out each day with the precision of a drill sergeant allocating time for activities such as "breakfast", "cutting", "watching Diego" and "eating supper at a restaurant like McNally's." But she's only 3.

Wherever we go people engage her in conversation and remark that she's so tall you would think she was 5. But she's only 3.

She drags around her battered Bear everywhere she goes. He's been washed so many times he has faded from pink to gray but she won't voluntarily surrender him for a spin on the delicate cycle since she is sure he doesn't like baths. Today he waited patiently in her car seat while she was at school. He was rewarded with a hug and a kiss. Because she's only 3.

I hope to freeze in my mind forever the events of this first day of school. I want to remember how she looked, how she acted, what she said and how she felt. Because she's only 3.

But not for long.

Scared of the Storm

The thunder clapped so hard tonight it sounded like the storm had landed on top of our home. That's when the chorus of crying began from the sleepy, but not yet asleep crowd. So the two older girls huddled in the big girl bed and we sang songs and talked about meteorological theories and snapped pictures until the thunder and lightning passed.

Sophia is oh-so-annoyed that "the weatherman sent storms when she needed rest because school starts on Tuesday". Such is the logic of a 3-year old. When you are the center of the universe everything happens just to annoy/please you.

It's been a long day and I've been "on duty" since the first rustlings at 6.30 am. No cross-country meet for me. No haircut or eyebrow wax. No shower by myself. (Guess who was away from home attending to all kinds of personal business??) And it all starts again at 6.30 tomorrow morning. The only difference is after my first tour of duty here I head to a ten hour shift that ends with an hour-long newscast because it's football season. Home at 1.00 am. Bed by 2.00 am. And then 6.30 is here again oh so quickly. That's the storm that scares me.

Night, Night.

Playing Well With Others....

Learning to play well with others can be a tough thing. It's hard when your little sister wants to grab everything and put it in her mouth. Or your big sister is bossy and tries to control the flow of fun. Here are my three girls learning to play together.

So much of the time adults also need to learn to play together. To understand that people have different opinions brought about by individual perspective. And that hiding behind a made-up name on the Internet to act like a child in the midst of a community full of adults is wrong.

I am so sorry to see that my fun hang out -- the CKMB -- has become a cesspool of partisan politics and name-calling. It's supposed to be about SCRAPBOOKING -- remember???

Maybe if I spend less time on the board and more time at the scrap table I'll get more done!

(Wouldn't our Daddy have a fit if he saw us in person dumping all of the Tupperware out of the cabinets just for fun??? Shhhhhh. Don't tell him.)

How Sweet It Is.....

So here's my little Army -- all loaded up on chocolate after our post-Labor Day trip to Hershey's Chocolate World.

Francesca is wearing the remnants of her treats all around her mouth. Her personal highlight of the trip was when the man selling the Hershey Trolley tickets rolled Hershey kisses right to her feet.

Sophia has a death grip on her brand new lunch box. The grilled cheese inside it was okay. The box itself is her new prized possession. It contains several Hershey bars and a bag of Reese's pieces that she is distributing to us when we are "good".

And there's Gabriella. Right in the middle of everything. Newly turned in her carseat and getting a fabulous view of the world.

Not even a Hershey's Kiss is as sweet as my little family.

Human Suffering

For 19 years I have sat at a typewriter/computer to encapsulate the news of the day. These past few days have been some of the toughest I have ever encountered. The reason is human suffering.

I am immersed in it all day long. Not in person -- but through the alternately fabulous/wonderful technology hook-ups that allow us to see video from so many places.

Everywhere I look it is human suffering. The heartbreaking faces of desperate people. Mothers looking for a way to feed young babies and comfort crying children. Men who have lost their homes, their jobs and all their possessions save for the ones they are carrying in a pillowcase from one filthy, overcrowded place to another.

Never before in 19 years have I referred to anyone in my own country as a "refugee". Now I do it several times a day. For millions of people to hear.

I wonder why every school bus in the lower 48 states hasn't been dispatched to pluck people from the misery. I wonder why helicopters aren't dropping cases of water and food into places too difficult to reach. I wonder how anyone can watch these desperate faces and be convinced that the relief effort is going according to plan.

And so I watch this video -- write about this video -- and air this video. Hoping that someone, somewhere will help. And hoping that I never know the agony of watching a loved one suffer and die only to be left abandoned on a crowded, dirty sidewalk.

It is a national crisis. It is a national tragedy. It is a national shame.

http://www.redcross.org/