Signing Off

Touching and memorable, is that what I said? Jeez, I know how to set myself up.

Well first, let me say that it's been a blast sharing our little adventures with you. My intent was to offer an honest portrayal, and sometimes it was probably painfully honest. Yes, I yell at my kids sometimes. Yes, I've admitted to the entire world (or to all 7 of you that read this blog) that they've driven me absolutely, positively crazy at times. But I hope you've also noticed, and I hope they will someday too, that we have a heck of a lot of fun. In my unbiased opinion, Owen and Ellie are about the best kids a tired, overwhelmed and inexperienced mom could ask for. Owen has always been such sensitive kid - I remember being pregnant with Ellie and every once in a while he'd look at me and say, "how are you feeling Mom?" That hasn't changed at all. And then there's Ellie - from the day she was born she's been such a funny, happy, joyful kid.

I hope Owen stays true to his sensitive side. Even when it's not cool. And I hope Ellie continues to see the "happy" in life (and reminds me to look for it). And I hope they rely on each other like I rely on my siblings when they're older; I hope Owen comes over and helps Ellie with an insane amount of yard work just before a family party at her house. And I hope they ask to babysit each other's kids because they consider it just about the best way to spend a Saturday night. I hope they're confident, and realize how great they are. And most of all, I hope they realize that (although it's been really, really, really hard at times) I've always loved being their mom.

So I called Larry David for advice on a witty ending to this chronicle, but he never called me back. Instead I'll end with this from the ever-dependable Dr. Seuss:

Today is gone. Today was fun.
Tomorrow is another one.
Every day,
from here to there,
funny things are everywhere.

1 Year Older, 2 Minutes Slower

I ran my butt off at this year's Harvard 4th of July 5-Miler. Honest, I did. And yet my time was 2 minutes slower than last year. It's come to my attention lately that I may be getting older. No, really.

Owen and Ellie ran the 1-miler, and I use the term "ran" loosely. Owen did a lot of shoe-scuffing, talking, complaining about the heat, bending over with alleged cramps, and skipping. It wasn't pretty, I'm not gonna lie to you, but he didn't come in last. (Ellie did). Owen recovered from the trauma of his race just in time for the pie-eating contest. Ellie tried to compete in this event as well, but became rather overwhelmed at the last minute and had to leave the designated pie-eating area in tears. You can't win 'em all. (Or any of 'em, on this particular day).

The rest of our 4th of July holiday weekend was spent eating lobster, drinking beer (and yes, Mike, you did drink some tequila), relaxing on the beach, and watching the kids play with their cousins. It was gluttonous and most enjoyable.

Back to "reality" on Tuesday meant that I got to go to work, while Mike took a day off to spend with the kids. I tried unsuccessfully to squelch my enthusiasm as I dove into my car at 8:30, peeled out of the driveway, and left Mike to engage in conversations that started with such startling observations as, "Dad, Chiquita bananas are so weird, you know why?" (Newsflash: apparently 6 year-olds think absolutely everything is weird).

As Ann Curry would say, "on a more serious note", tomorrow marks the 2-year anniversary of the beginning of "Our Adventures". I have loved your comments and your readership. Hell, I just love the attention, we all know that. But I think I'll be taking a break after tomorrow. This blogging stuff is getting harder and harder. I'm not short on material (God, no), but definitely short on time. And energy. (Did I mention the aging thing?) So I'll see if I can come up with something more touching and memorable than the Seinfeld finale (the first one) to end this run.

Stay tuned.

View from the Couch

I'm sitting down for the first time in about 6 weeks. At least it feels that way. One child is playing Legos happily at the kitchen counter, having just returned from an impromptu sleepover at Jack's; the other informed me yesterday that she was having a "3-day sleepover at Nanny's and Papa's", and jumped into their car to head for VT (that one was actually pre-planned). Our house has been scrubbed from top to bottom in anticipation of the hordes of home buyers who never showed up to our open house. There's not much to do right now other than sit down, enjoy the silence and recap my readers (assuming I still have any given my sporadic writing schedule) of the comings and goings of the Apigian family. Here goes:

The other day I heard Ellie say, "Owen, your bedspread doesn't smell very good, but I do love you". So cute. (Note to self: clean the bedspreads). Our house has been on the market for exactly 2 1/2 days and I'm already frustrated by the lack of interest. Our half-marathon came and went, and we both survived without any permanent damage (although Mike is definitely going to lose a toenail); from my perspective it went sort of like this:

Rain again?? What is it with me and half-marathons??
Hmmm... actually not so bad while I'm running.
Race is over, I'm not running anymore, and I am cold and wet.
Now I'm shivering.
Now I can't feel my thumbs.
Now I'm barfing.
No more half-marathons.
6 hours later over burgers and beer: I think I'm ready for another half-marathon.

Owen is going through a major growth spurt. None of his long pants fit him anymore, and he is always hungry. I have to teach that kid how to make his own PB&J. One of his little girl friends ("girl friends" not "girlfriends") sent him an e-mail this morning; it went like this:

Dear Owen, I have been you friend for a long time. I love you. I can't wait to see you on Monday.

First thought: awwwwww
Next thought: slow down, sister, he's not even out of kindergarten yet.

I think quiet time is over. Owen's hungry again.

This and That

I know, it's been a while. For a few days I could blame my silence on the chemical burn on my eyeball, but I have completely recovered. And, to answer your inevitable question, too darn tired to haul Hello Kitty into court. She won that battle.

I feel like things have been crazy busy lately. I commented today to another mom that it was amazing that I hadn't forgotten a child somewhere, or dropped someone off at the wrong place. Or on the wrong day. She looked at me like I was insane. Which I just may be. I find that, by the time I'm finished putting all the clean laundry away, it's time to start the cycle all over again. And the sink is always full of dishes. (Am I the only one around here who knows what that strange square-shaped appliance full of clean dishes is all about?) And, suddenly, everyone wants to cram playdates and teacher conferences and end-of-the-year parties into the same two weeks. And that half-marathon isn't going away... tick tock, Mike.

But, looking on the bright side, the school year is almost over. And our landscaping project begins on Monday. And, for whatever reason, my hair is really working for me these days. And, speaking of hair, Ellie's bangs have finally grown out and she's looking even more adorable. IMHO.

That's all for now. Those dishes aren't going to clean themselves.

* Sap Alert *

Last night was the Groton Prom. When I heard that, I was instantly struck by (and grateful for) just how young and innocent the kids are right now. Sure, they're growing up quickly. They say weird things that they heard on SpongeBob or iCarly (or the school bus), and I look at them like, "who are you"? But they still call me Mommy (love that). And come into our bed in the morning to snuggle. And until very recently, Ellie thought she was from the state of "Cheez-Its", not "Massachusetts". (They do sound alike, no?) Ellie performs her little dance routines (remember Elaine from Seinfeld?) without an ounce of embarrassment and, when Owen lost his tee-ball glove the other night, and was forced to borrow his sister's pink one for his game, it didn't dawn on him to be self-conscious. Whenever I feel like I'm losing them, I wait for the Ice Cream Man to make his rounds; the look of pure and untarnished GLEE at the prospect of buying a two-dollar Popsicle from a man in a truck reminds me that they're not gone yet. They may act like teenagers sometimes (when exactly do kids learn to roll their eyes?), but for now they're still my babies.

Road Race

Ellie's pretty sure she won the 2010 Groton Road Race. She didn't, but she did ditch her dad after about 5 yards and run her little heart out to the finish line.

Owen and I ran the 2K with Johnny Cash, uh, I mean Uncle Jay. Owen did great, and finished with a big smile on his face. After we crossed the finish line I said, "Great job, Owen - what'd you think"? His reply: "where are the goody bags"?

Domestic Diva

Ellie is sweeping the kitchen floor in pink fuzzy slippers, a sparkly headband, and pearls.

(And clothes).