Having two kids hasn’t been that hard, and having two at such different ages hasn’t been that hard, though I expect that to change as Tristan’s needs change as he gets more and more physically capable. What’s been hard is starting all over after tasting a bit of the outside world via the GeekDad and Library Journal writing and giving myself over to a new baby, but now in a project house that wasn’t remotely unpacked, that never looks clean because worn surfaces have fused with dirt, and not having child-proofed areas. I keep comparing all the things I could give to Seamus at six, nine, twelve months, and I see what Tristan has, and the lack just kills me.

It’s been too long since we took the time

 No-one’s to blame, I know time flies so quickly

But when I see you darling

It’s like we both are falling in love again

It’ll be just like starting over, starting over

-John Lennon

Sorry it’s been so long. Special message to Depression, Post-Partum; or Depression, Because it’s Tuesday or whichever this has been: FUCK RIGHT OFF.

In the back, the peach tree bears ovoid pale green fruit. The squirrels living in our neighbor’s oak raid the peaches once they hint toward yellow. Our attempts to catch them and shoo them away before they pick a peach has merely led to faster squirrels. I know that in the fall they will raid another neighbor’s apple tree. Only the feral calico cat who lounges in our yard and hunts finches from a blind comprised of tall grass and a rosebush keeps them from scaling the pole from which we’ve hung multiple birdfeeders. I feed this cat, as I hope someone feeds Inky, but I know that it’s most likely that Inky met her end from a car, a fight, or entrapment in a crawlspace. Last month I named the calico Cinder for her ashy tones with occasional splashes of apricot. 

The lemon tree prepares for a productive fall and winter, producing new blossoms even as it supports a large crop of green fruit. The blueberries are full of greenery, but no flowers. The grass lies decimated by our neglect, Faolan’s potty breaks, and the introduction of a kiddie pool on the hottest days. The roses have begun working on hips.

In the front, the garden lingers. Most of the herbs should weather the fall and winter, though several need re-potting already. The shrub lavenders have not taken to the yard as well as I would have hoped, but they keep setting buds as their feathery leaves curl and crisp in the sun. The raised bed successfully produced radishes and some kale, but the spinach bolted before  it got very big, as did many salad greens. The lettuces stay tiny, and both the arugula and beans seem cowed at the prospect of growing. My previous thoughts of raising winter vegetables have fled as I contemplate sheet-mulching the front lawn next month and spending the winter planning better.

Inside, I think about how to make our home homier while keeping in mind the eventual chaos of foundation work, window and woodwork restoration, and eventual remodeling of the bathroom and kitchen. I’ve found poster hangers for getting things up nicely in the boys’ room, and I am ready to begin bringing home books. I’ve begun editing my craft stashes, knowing that much will have to vanish very soon. The kitchen appliances are expressing some… reluctance toward helping me produce complex meals, so I’ve begun working on the one-pot meals again. Fabric for blankets for both boys lays piled in front mf my machine.

Tristan is working on either two or four teeth all at once, and of course we won’t know for sure until they cut through. He is sleeping better but is ver reliant upon me for good sleep, so I need to figure out how to sleep train him. Right now he’s got a good nap shedule and bedtime routine, so all that’s left is the putting him down awake bit.

Seamus is nervous about Kindergarten, and wanting to practice Starfall constantly. We may have found a babysitter/mother’s helper from one of his camps to keep him company on the big house project days. She’s energetic and experience in keeping some structure going, which I think will help him a lot. He can be left to his own devices, but it’s better if he has a framework of expectations and mealtimes.

So we poke along in these last weeks, before we meet the speed-up of the school year and the last of the good weather. There is a rocket birthday in the works, and a mythological Halloween costume, and a slew of other things between now and the rain. We should start on things soon. 

But maybe we can read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator first.

I made a bunch of peach puree for Tris (peel peaches, fill cuisinart, add a third of a cup of water, juice from half a Meyer lemon, puree, pour into silicone ice cube trays, freeze). All told I’ve got sixty 1-ounce cubes in four freezer bags. Not a massive amount, but enough to give him a taste of summer during our winter. There may be a few late peaches by the time he’s ready for solids, but it’s nice to have some on hand as well. I’d like to make some apricots or plums if possible, zucchini, and avocados. Fall will bring us apples, pears, squashes, and sweet potatoes, and carrots are year-round here. I’m thinking about avoiding cereals, or generally using less of them. I’ll also take advantage of a trick I read recently about adding plain potato to spinach and other greens when pureeing them, and I’ll puree our meals for him whenever applicable.

Shay’s school supply list includes slippers (kung-fu shoes), a breakable cup (Fiesta coffee mug), and a quiet time blanket (owl and squirrel print with red flannel back, some assembly required). Montessori, it’s not like public school.

Seamus wants a rocket and robot-themed party for his birthday. The cardboard procurement should probably start soon. I think we could at least pull off some large decorative robots and rockets. Have glue gun, will try stuff.

I pulled together a two week “camp” for Seamus and his friends with crafts and free play and field trips and hikes. We called it Camp Marauder, and I think I’ll do at least one camp day during Christmas break, and maybe three one-week sessions next summer. And stencil some t-shirts.

Patrick and I are finally going to de-clutter and decorate our bedroom! I’m very excited.

The garden camp has paid off in a nice little herb garden and raised bed veg garden. Our blueberry bushes took a hit with our on/off hot weather and seem to be recovering. Lesson learned: ALWAYS water when you have the time, because if you wait until the morning or evening, you will have forgotten completely. Some of the pernicious sod has come up through my weed blocker, so again, lessons learned regarding weed-blocking materials. But I think we have a good start.

The boys are both growing like mad. Seamus needs to try on a bunch of stuff before I school shop. Grandparents, please note that we’re looking at size 6. There’s some deviation here and there, but that’s a good size to look for. And he has plenty of t-shirts right now. Looking at six months and up for Tristan. I may abandon my current knitting exercise to try my hand at making things for them both!

There are 30+ pounds of peaches in my kitchen right now. I need to process them before tomorrow, which is when Camp Marauder starts. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

I want to make one of these. Tell me that isn’t awesome. If we had one right now, I could guarantee about a decade’s use from it from the kids. Worried about safety? I’m trained in Wilderness First Aid.

Right, I’m off to bake a pie.

• Tristan has begun reaching for things in that spazzy, out of control way that babies do when they know they have hands, but can’t quite get the wiring fused quite right so then can use them. This seems different from Seamus’ development, and according to the ped, a little late, as he’s fifteen weeks tomorrow. I’m trying not to think about that part and just be happy with the hands! holding! toys! aspect. In addition he’s begun trying to roll over and gets so frustrated when his arching and kicking and leg lifts go nowhere.
  
  Tris also had a couple of colds and an ear infection requiring antibiotics, and appears to be teething. poor little tree frog. I’m trying to nudge him onto a nap routine now that he’s healthy, with plans to stop letting him nurse completely to sleep once his routine is established, and then slooowly moving him toward sleep training at bedtime. That won’t start until sometime in the fall, I think. I’ve been waking him up at 6:30 with Seamus as Shay’s science camp starts at nine and is forty-five minutes away, and he’s begun falling asleep in the car, then staying asleep on transfer to the carrier while I walk for the rest of the nap. I don’t have a problem with him napping in the Beco, but I hope he’ll eventually nap in a stroller as well.
  
  The eyes are still blue (which means little, as Seamus’ were blue till six months), and he’s growing a fine light brown fuzz all over his head.
• Seamus has had some off-and-on-sessions of science camp, which he enjoys, and chunks of structured and unstructured time at home. He’s gotten tall without losing that solid build he’s always had, and still blazes with energy. We’ve done some “themed” camp here at home, whic is hard to maintain. Part of that is life with an infant, but the other part is Seamus’ defiance.
  
  I’ve mentioned it before, but Seamus has never been a kid you could distract or re-direct. Not even as an infant. For the last year he has gone through stretches of opposition and defiance with no clear cause and with no real fix aside from ignoring him, which of course does not work in public. Bribes don’t work and rewards for good behavior don’t work, because there is no treat or prize he wants badly enough to earn it. There’s no reasoning, no explaining, and no way to get through to him, because afterward he simply makes up his own version of events. This week he refused to dress and I took him to camp in his underpants, where he was told he could not participate. But even that hasn’t deterred him from fighting and arguing about getting dressed in the morning, and on Thursday, after swim class. Which is, as we’ve discovered, the reward he seeks- to keep us engaged and entrenched so he does not have to comply with our requests. So while we’ll focus on positive behaviors and good interactions, we’ll have to practice aggressive non-engagement with him when he starts to fight.
  
  He loves Tris and wants to be a good big brother. And I know he WANTS to be loved and thought well of and have friends, but he’s balancing that with an innate drive to have his own way at all costs. For those of you who say that all kids do that, tell me how your kid stopped. What did it take? My kid destroyed a commercially-made kid carrier by arching in it in a rage at the age of two, because it was bedtime. That’s what I’m dealing with now, two and a half years and thirty pounds later. How do you cultivate that desire to be part of the world, and not some blistering exception?
  
  
• Patrick’s company was purchased, and my trepidation about it has shifted to relief and optimistic curiousity. That’s all I’ll say about that.
  
  
• I’m juggling the ever-changing normals around here, trying to keep the chaos small and encourage progress for everyone, including me. I want to run and write again, and keep playing with the sewing and knitting. Maybe make some new friends doing those things, and take a few classes here and there. I completed a Wilderness First Aid class last month that I really liked and got me thinking about doing some continuing education. It’ll come.

Other things are going on - I took a wilderness first aid class, Inky has vanished and we think she got nailed by a car or is under a house somewhere. We’ll be waking her at the end of summer and moving on with just one cat and one dog. Given that we’ll have a crawler soon, and Seamus has asked about having chickens, I think that’s our best course. Patrick’s birthday is tomorrow, and Tristan has had the flu.

His friends are doing mixes of camps, staying at preschools, and staying at home, so we’re not doing anything too unusual scheduling-wise. I worry about him missing his friends, so I hope to keep playdates mixed into his home time, which already contains swimming, circus class, and swim time with me as regular activites, mixed with field trips, chores and errands (because I still do that home making thing), walks, hikes, and actual scheduled down time. No matter what we’re doing that day, he needs to entertain himself between 4:00 and dinner time. Since he tends to engage in art, reading, or imaginary play, it helps wind him down the tiniest bit as we approach Tristan’s witching hour. 

Our weekends are looking good. Aside from Maker Faire, we’re planning car camping and fruit-picking trips, and I’m taking a wilderness medicine first aid course next weekend, which will provide some hilarity as I attempt to hand-pump in class. I should practice tht this week. A kid-friendly house project is also in the works: preparing for a fall/winter garden. Stay tuned.

I settled a sleeping Tristan into his bouncy seat so he could continue his nap while I washed up and prepped dinner, but within five minutes he’s awake and screaming. I do my checking-in routine, which quells the screaming, but he continues to cry as I rush through 75% of my tasks, narrating and checking in.

Inky walks in, sees Tristan crying, and bites me on the leg*

Me: Good grief, cat. What gives?

Inky: Don’t “what gives” me, human. Whay aren’t you snuggling that kitten?

Me: We’ve been snuggling since 4:30, and I have to wash dishes. He’s fed and dry, and safe in his seat. He can see me and hear my voice.

Inky: Clearly he wants to be back in the nest. Jesus, are his eyes even open yet?

Me: If I spend all day in the nest, who’s gonna keep things clean around here? Who’s gonna make dinner?

Inky: I can lick dishes… wait, you bi-peds don’t eat kibble like the rest of us? Fuckers. Stomps off.

End scene.

You know, no one ever told me I’d have to scoop poop for my peanut gallery. I left her the pots and silverware.

*She’s done this several times, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to urge me to calm him down, or if she’s challenging me for his tastiest bits.