solo swim

Sometimes following a mid-afternoon thunderstorm you find yourselves alone at the pool. Are we the crazy ones--or is everyone else who missed this opportunity?

summer days

The house was quiet except for the little voices directing one another where to go and what to say. It was an elaborate game of imaginary play--the complexities of which I couldn't even begin to explain to you--which led these three goofballs onto their parents' bed for a king-sized wrestling match. The match was tame (by children wrestling on their parents' bed standards) and this time laughter only led to greater laughter (and not tears as is often the danger with children's wrestling matches).

These are the moments that I choose to remember from this summer; not the tears at the dinner table or the meltdown over Legos or the temper tantrum while leaving the pool. The children played so nicely this day, in fact, I forgot all about my "summer schedule" and realized that building lasting relationships with your siblings is more important than 30 minutes of XtraMath. Scout may not remember that she dressed up like a ballerina stuck in a 70s-era futuristic space film, but collectively I hope they remember that all those summer days weren't as boring as they thought at the time. And I'll have the picture to prove it...

forty is the new forty

I gambled big, and I won. There were so many things that could have gone wrong in planning Alex's surprise 40th birthday party--starting with the guest of honor not being there himself--but everything went off without a hitch! Alex was genuinely surprised and never stumbled upon the liquor I had hidden in my closet or the tortilla chips in the back of our kitchen cabinet. Whenever the old guy ends up wearing gold Mardi Gras beads and a pink hat at the end of the night, you know you did a decent job. My only regret is not getting more photos of the action, but that just means I was too busy enjoying myself. Sometimes you need to put the camera down and have fun.

This is a list to remind my future self (in case she ever thinks of throwing a surprise party again) of the potentially disastrous hiccups that could have happened along the way:

1. Alex would not be here for his own party. Three weeks before the big event, I made the executive decision to move ahead with his party and have it the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. This was a weekend he was scheduled to work, and I had to gamble that he would be home by Saturday night. He did not get confirmation of his travel schedule until the Monday before the party. That's five days before the party. And if that wasn't stressful enough, I found out on Friday night at 11:00pm that if Oklahoma had lost its softball game, which it won by one run, there would have been a third game on Saturday at 5:00pm (in Oklahoma) that Alex would have had to work. If that's too confusing, the point is that he/we got lucky. 

2. Alex would not have friends at his party. His birthday always falls on Memorial Day weekend. People travel that weekend, so the odds that our friends would be out of town were stacked against us. It turns out, however, that our friends must be just as boring as we are because most of them were here and made it to the party.

3. Alex would not have any food to eat at his party. Last minute RSVP's jacked up my numbers after I had ordered all the tacos. My mother-in-law came to the rescue, however, with a tamale run that saved the day. There was plenty to eat...and drink!

4. Alex would not have a decent margarita at his party. The bartender that I hired for the event told me she had never made a margarita before "except the frozen kind." Girl. This is Texas. If you're a bartender who doesn't know how to make a margarita, you're in the wrong business. I had it under control though. Because even though I don't make the margaritas in my house, I know how to make the margaritas in my house.

5. Alex would have to stay huddled in our tiny house with 35 of his closest friends at his party. It rained the day before the party. And the day before that. And the day before that. There were flash floods and tornado watches. But Saturday was hot and sunny--a little humid for my taste, but I couldn't complain because we were able to spread ourselves out in the back yard and order drinks from the bartender who didn't know balnco from reposado.

first splash of the season

It's May in Texas, so that means the splash pads are open. This morning the Wheat children celebrated the beginning of another hot summer season at a birthday party for one of Scout's kinder buddies at the Pease Park splash pad. This was a party I was actually happy to attend (I've become very discriminating after dragging three kids to birthday parties for the last four years) because it was at 10:00am, and the party planners served coffee and breakfast tacos. The kids stayed busy ducking in and out of water shoots, blowing bubbles and drying off on the adjoining playground. The parents stayed busy drinking coffee and gossiping on the sideline (or was that just me?).

rainy day mom's day

Alex had big plans for Mother's Day this year. Or maybe he didn't, but he convinced me that he did. His plans, unfortunately, were derailed by the unexpected rain we experienced on that most blessed day for moms. So instead we had a taco brunch at our favorite neighborhood taco joint--they have $2 Bloody Marys on Sundays, so that's a win--and then we came home and watched the kids play in the gutter in their bathing suits.

i need the force

Let me take you inside the journey of a mom who wanted to treat her nerdy Star Wars-crazed children to an afternoon of fun on May the 4th, which any respectable Star Wars fan (do they have a name for themselves, by the way, like Trekkies?) knows is national--or perhaps international--Star Wars day.

Immediately after picking up the children from school this afternoon, we headed over to our local vegan ice cream joint (because who doesn't love vegan ice cream when it's sunny and 84 in Austin?) and then on to the public library for its Star Wars Day celebration. While images of Star Wars-shaped cookies and a library filled with characters danced in the children's heads, the reality of a Star Wars party held at your local public library did not live up to the hype.

Instead of Chewbacca or some other equally charming character greeting us at the door, we were shuffled into a small, carpeted florescent-lit room where 50 other children, in various iterations of Star Wars garb, were already crowded around folding tables littered with the makings of do-it-yourself Star Wars crafts. There was a "Make Your Own Light Saber" table along with "Build a Droid." There was also a Darth Vader puzzle that, when complete, would reveal the secret hiding place of a secret prize. If all this sounds like fun, then I'm painting a picture that is too flattering.

This party was not fun. My children told me so. It was "boring" and there was "nothing to do." There weren't any of the cookies that Catcher had promised himself in his head. There weren't life-sized photographs of Star Wars characters lining the library walls, as Scout had imagined. There wasn't even a Star Wars character scavenger hunt like Tillie thought there would be. Instead there were a bunch of other children using up all the supplies for making your own light saber and taking up all the slots in the Jedi competition games. The horror!

All of this commotion brought each of my three children to tears--for his or her own reasons--as we were crowded in that little room with stinky kids and weird parents who had actually dressed themselves as Star Wars characters. After Catcher yelled at me because his name was allegedly skipped in the Jedi competition order, I made the executive decision that it was time to cut our losses and get the heck out of dodge. This did not go over well with my comrades. Now instead of being cramped inside a poorly lit room in the public library, I found myself walking through the library with three crying, screaming children and Scout throwing her light saber at the glass entry door (don't stress: it was made of foam; the organizers must have seen this type of resistance coming).

When we finally made it to the car, after cries of everything being my fault and a round or two of "You're the worst mom in the universe," Catcher ripped apart his own light saber with his bare hands (remember, just foam here) and proceeded to yell at the girls the entire way home because, ironically, they were crying and he wanted them to be quiet. I think this will go down as one of my most unpleasant car driving experiences ever. Honestly, I'm just happy we made it home without getting in an accident. It is very distracting having three children trying to out-scream one another in the car. And believe it or not, I don't think this story captures even half of the real-life turmoil. Don't let these sweet faces fool you.

super tillie

Let's not forget that in the middle of packing and excluding rodents from our new house and tearing up the bathrooms (just wait for those photos), we're in the middle of an unseasonably warm February--even by Texas standards. The other day when I needed a break from my to-do list, and Tillie was looking particularly cute in the princess/superhero ensemble she had put together, we stepped out into the sunshine for a moment that can only be made possible by a four year-old. It's too bad I didn't get the plastic heels she was wearing in the shot.

in a galaxy far, far away

I promise I took a picture today. Seven of them, in fact. I can't show you those pictures, however, because I deleted them from my camera after I thought I had uploaded them to the computer. I had not uploaded them, and once I realized I had inadvertently deleted them, the moment was over for me. I wasn't about to send Catcher and Alex back into the kitchen to stand side-by-side, adjacent to the outlet, faces aglow by the light of their electronic devices. Alex wasn't particularly proud of this techno-moment anyway.

Instead I deliver you snapshots from our weekend when we stumbled across Stormtroopers and Jedis-in-training at the Bob Bullock History Museum. The place was so crowded we had to pay $8 to park in the garage, which I'm fundamentally opposed to when you can find free parking on the street, but it turns out the fee was worth it when all three children arrived just in time for the last (FREE!) Jedi training session of the day.

begin again

For a brief moment this morning I reconsidered giving up on my New Year's resolution of "one picture per day." Inspired by a podcast about resolutions, I learned we humans are quite predictable. Apparently we are wired to break our resolutions because we view our past selves as inferior than our present selves. I can't remember how that played into the whole breaking of the resolutions equations, but it was reassuring to hear that the Sarah of January 19, 2016 onward can be more focused and determined than the old Sarah. There was also something about psyching yourself up by speaking in the 2nd or 3rd person. See what I did there?

There are some other key points I'm missing here, but the 24-minute podcast convinced me that it's okay to start your resolution again because of the whole humans being wired thing. We naturally gravitate toward starting things new/over at the beginning of a new year or on birthdays or the beginning of the month...or week. Sarah was feeling pretty good about herself and decided she would reinstate her new year's resolution starting today.

But then...

I got home from school with the children this afternoon and I was mentally exhausted. I had to input grades from last week's history test and prepare my lessons for tomorrow and the kids wanted a snack and Tillie fell over on the front porch and scraped her elbow and Scout was showing me all the scrap paper with her doodles that she brings home from kindergarten every day and Catcher was asking me to sign his homework...so I gave myself a break. I realized that--human nature and wiring and all that stuff that sounds great on a podcast aside--perhaps we break our resolutions because we're busy. Or tired.

But then...

I felt like I was making excuses, so I turned to our most agreeable child and asked her if I could take her picture on the front porch. Let me assure you that my momentary awakening on the resolution front in no way signifies I will keep it up for the remaining 347 days of 2016 (I had to use a calculator to figure that out, but I remembered to factor in this year being a leap year).

Side note: As I'm writing this, I realize Scout's shirt is speaking to me. May the force be with me indeed.

made to be broken

Obviously New Year's resolutions are made to be broken. Or else why would we make them? Isn't the fun in the breaking of them and not in the making of them?

I realize I overshot my potential this year in thinking I could actually take one picture a day for 365 days in a row. At first the challenge seemed doable--when we were all at home driving each other crazy and looking for new tricks up our sleeves during those waning days of winter break. But then life kicked back into gear, and the next thing I knew we had piano practice and play dates and preschool fundraisers and my classes to plan. I haven't even had to factor lacrosse and soccer practices into the schedule yet. There's also the big science fair coming up--actually, I have pictures of that, which I'll share at later date--so I'm letting myself off the hook early this year. And I'm definitely not beating myself up about a silly resolution that was made to be broken.

In a different world my children's birthday parties would be Pinterest-worthy,* and I would take one picture a day in 2016. However, in this world where I find myself residing, I'm lucky to make it through the day without tears from a three year-old and seven year-old sass. (The middle one gets a pass on this rant because she was particularly agreeable this past weekend.)

*Let's be honest--saying "Pinterest-worthy" is once again overshooting my potential. I don't even have birthday parties for my children. So it's more accurate to say that in a different world I would have birthday parties for my children.

the thinker

Last night was Friday, and that means--until further notice--Family Game Night at the Wheat House. In lieu of a game, however, the children and I decided to tackle an 850-piece United States puzzle. It's one that we've started before but have never managed to finish. Catcher dragged it out yesterday afternoon, and by 6:30pm (when it was about 1/3 assembled) we decided it would count as our game night activity. I had to put on the breaks at 7:30 to get the girls in bed, so it sat on our floor half-together all night.

It wasn't a bad idea, though. We woke up to a cloudy, rainy Austin this morning, and everyone* was eager to get back to work. Catcher, the thinking man, lead the charge and kept the troops in line until we finally finished the thing in the early afternoon.

*Tille was not so eager to get to work. She was more eager to put on her plastic mules and stomp around threateningly close to the puzzle and fingers of the puzzle workers. At one point she threw a fit and destroyed the Hawaiian islands, but Catcher stayed cool and got everything back in place for us.

the night before the last night

On December 30, 2015 the Wheat family partied like it was the last day of the year. With Alex's work schedule, I'm used to him working or traveling on most major holidays. Even on the rare occasion when Alex is home on New Year's Eve, our celebrations have been pretty low-key since having children. When Alex isn't here, I usually find myself sitting alone on the sofa watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve. And when he is home, then I have a companion to watch the ball drop with me.

This year I decided to mix things up a bit. I came up with the brilliant idea to host a New Year's Eve party in our house on December 30th. It was strictly a family affair, but I made everyone get dressed in their festive best and whipped up a fancy cheese board along with some other crowd-pleasing appetizers. There was champagne from Trader Joe's, Happy New Year tiaras and noisemakers (much to Alex's chagrin). We danced to the Taylor Swift station on I < Heart > Radio and waved sparklers around on the sidewalk in front of our house. Even though I greatly annoyed Catcher by making him put on shoes for the party, which he promptly removed and replaced with Scout's Hello Kitty slippers when we ventured outside, everyone agreed it was pretty much the best party ever. I think we'll do it again next year.