Sometimes the rules don't matter. (and, I need to remember that)

It is 2 o'clock in the morning and I am feeling pretty rotten.

In the past few weeks I have had a couple of incidents of bad parenting.  Today was a gigantic fail.  Epic.

Today I got so wrapped up in "the rules" that I forgot that my boys are only 6 (almost 7) and that they are enthusiastic and that they enjoy life to the fullest.

We were on a field trip today, first the aquarium and then the park at the beach.  The rule was no one was supposed to go in the water.  Of course, I knew better, I knew that my kids would not be able to resist.  I even said it to their teacher.  But instead of just being prepared, with extra clothes, I chose to be a hard ass.  To make them follow the rules. And when they broke the rules, I made them regret it.  And now I am the one up at 2 AM regretting it, unable to sleep because I turned what should have been a fun time into something totally opposite.

What really made me feel awful about making my boys sit out of all of the fun, because they broke the "rules" was a picture posted by one of the other moms on the field trip. I think it must have been taken moments before I found them in the water.

When I saw it, I saw clearly what I was missing today on the beach.  Their joy. You cannot even see their faces clearly, but it is their body language, I can feel their happiness. It looks as if Evan's feet are not even touching the ground.  (I apologize for the inelegant black boxes over the other kids faces, but it is nearly 2:30 now, and I don't want to go to my desktop to open photoshop, nor do I think I will be able to get permission from the other four parents at this hour.  As it is, I hope when the photographer wakes up in the morning she is okay with me using this photo)

Honestly, why didn't I just bring extra clothes, and embrace the moment?  Why did I have to take this moment of joy and turn it into anything but joy?  This is going to be one of those memories that I will never, never, never forget, it will make me sick forever. 

Now I wait until they wake up so I can apologize.

Epic Fail

So I just had one of those Mommy Dearest moments. I've never had one before. I feel like a real shit. I just want to cry I feel so, so, bad. ARGH.

I was in the Ryan's bedroom for no more than, 3 minutes. I was looking for some 4T pants for Evan and switching out which drawers they belong in. (I still can't find the jeans I was looking for and I have no idea where they are.) Again, super short time, boys were getting ready for bed, something they are perfectly capable of doing unsupervised.

I return to the living room to hear something about lotion not coming off, and find Ryan and Evan in the bathroom, COVERED, in Ryan's $18 a jar lotion. It was a full jar, it is now about half empty. Ryan had almost an inch thick of lotion on his legs and feet, his foot was in the sink as he was trying to wash it off. Yeah, this stuff does not just wash off, that's the point of it.

Evan's hands were, well, totally white, as he had done the majority of the application on Ryan's legs, and he had gobs of lotion on his hands and in between his fingers.

There was lotion on the tile, on the carpet, and on the couch. Have I mentioned that this stuff is super thick, oily, greasy, staining thick, stuff.

I LOST IT. I yelled. I admit it. I yelled. I made Evan cry because I yelled.

And then I cried, because, I made my baby cry, and I didn't know where to begin cleaning the mess up. I'm still shaking I'm so upset.

I gave them their snacks an put them straight to bed, partly so I could clean it all up, and partly for their own protection.

I can sit here an justify my actions, the end of a long and very difficult day that had multiple timeouts, and bodily injuries to each other. Lots of boy fights and just bad behavior. Scott gone all weekend so I had no respite, and will have none until Saturday, and knowing this is going to be a long week for him at work, which means a lot of long nights alone for me and the boys, after a weekend of no respite. But I know people have it much, much worse than me, husbands that are gone on tours, or consistently work late, or are just not in the picture. I know that one weekend is and shouldn't be a big deal and I REALLY shouldn't complain or use it as an excuse for MY bad behavior, but it's all I have.

I was a bad mom tonight. I yelled at my precious boys. I fell like a shit.

I was also a good mom, and I apologized for over reacting. I explained that what they did was not acceptable, but neither was my reaction, and I was going to go sit in timeout until I felt like being nice. (or stopped beating myself up about it, whichever comes first.)

Sigh.


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On a lighter note, which I think we totally need to end on...here are a few things that have been said around here that have made me laugh.

Evan: when I fart in bed, I cover it up with a blanket so I don't smell it.

Evan: Ryan do you love me
Evan: Yes, I love you but I don't like your behavior.

Evan: My last name is Babe Ruth Ostrem
Ryan: My last name is Joltin' Joe

Evan: I love you mama
Me: I love you too sweetie.
Evan: Thank you for loving me.
Me: (on the floor in a puddle)

If I could do it all over

We stopped at a little taco shop tonight for dinner. When we pulled into the parking lot, there was a couple getting into their car. I noticed them because she pushed their cart to the island where there were a dozen or more carts already parked. I thought in my head, just because everyone else does it doesn't mean its right. She walked toward us, a little to closely. She kind of got in between our car and Scott and Evan. Something about it, it made me uncomfortable. Scott laughed, oops we are in the way Evan, excuse us. She wandered toward our door, and realized it was not her car. She walked a car down, she walked the ten steps across the parking lot, saying oh, I'm over here. When she got over there, she realized it was not right either. As I looked back over my shoulder. I saw the confusion in her eyes as she looked around desperately searching for where her car was. I also saw the man she was with, finally realizing that she had not come back to the car start to look for her. I said to Scott, oh she was really confused. She really didn't know where she was.

I haven't been able to get her out of my mind all night. I know her male companion found her, he was steps away from her. She was steps away from her car. Literally, she started ten steps, 180 degrees away from her car, and she ended up twenty steps 90 degrees away from her car.
I can't stop thinking I should have helped her. I should have said oh, you are right there. What stopped me? I don't know. My selfish need to get my kids fed more quickly? My fear of making her feel bad? My fear of strangers? That "I grew up in LA" sensibility where you just don't talk to people? The uncomfortable feeling I had when she approached my car? (which I now know was me maybe sensing her confusion?) I don't know.

I don't like it.

I want to teach my children to be kind and compassionate. I did not set a good example. I cannot stop thinking about it. My heart aches because I was so heartless.

Over the weekend Scott and I returned to an old favorite BC activity.

We played in the US Nationals Kayak Polo Tournament in Los Angeles.

I've/we've competed in a few of these over the years, usually trained pretty hard leading up to the competition, and usually pretty focused on competition.

This year, totally different story. Prior to this weekend, I'd been in my polo boat exactly 4 times in the last four plus years. Even after I put this rag tag team together, I still only managed to get on the water and play a couple of times.

I kept telling myself this is just for fun. This is just for fun. I had no belief that we'd even win a game, score a goal or do anything but have a good time.

I kept telling our team to just have fun. Fun we did. Our first few games were rough, but we held tough and started to gel. By the end of the tournament, we were winning games, and playing really well together. So well in fact we came in second in our division. We beat one of the strongest teams in our division, and played the first place team to three one goal games throughout the weekend, including the final.

It was so. much. fun!!!!!

In my bad mommy moment of the weekend. I missed my baby's debut.

For those of you who know Evan, you know his obsession with black speakers, microphones, and the National Anthem. When we got to the tournament on Saturday Evan heard the announcements for up coming games and assignments, he was pretty excited. I had gone off to scout our competition, and I guess Evan wanted to go talk on the microphone and hear it come out of the black speakers.

Then, my little performer took over.

He got the microphone in his hand and belted out the National Anthem. For whatever reason, I didn't hear him, but he sang the whole thing facing the American Flag (another obsession).

I cannot believe that no one got a picture.
I cannot believe that no one got this on video.

I cannot believe I missed it.

ARGGHH. I know there will be things I miss as the boys grow up, but...man, I don't like it.

Shame on me

I saw a mother walking with her handicapped child today. There were obvious mental and physical handicaps. I could see the wear and tear written in the lines on the woman's tired face. I smiled at her and her child. When our backs were facing each other and I was a few steps farther away from her, my eyes filled with tears. I held the hands of my two boys a little tighter. I realized I had been holding my breath, and I exhaled. As I got them into the car I gave each of them a hug and a kiss.

I think every parent can feel empathy for those wonderful people who parent special needs children. Sometimes it's difficult at best to parent healthy kids with ordinary needs. I look at those parents and think, how amazing, how do you do it, you must be exhausted.

Shame on me for ever being frustrated with my kids, tired of telling them the same thing day after day, for someday, my kids will learn the lesson I am trying to teach them and my words will no longer be needed.

Shame on me for wishing they would just sit still for a few minutes, for they can move, they can move both arms and legs, they can run, jump, dance and walk without assistance.

Shame on me for wishing for peace and quiet, for they can talk, (boy can they talk) they can express their needs, desires, pains, happiness, and love.

Parents of special needs kids can teach us all about life, love and happiness. They can give a master class in patience and understanding. They can make us all appreciate our ordinary kids, even when they make us want to pull our hair out, or when the kids are doing the pulling themselves. They can remind me to hug my guys a little tighter, and kiss them a little more often (if that is possible with out becoming a little icky). They remind us all how lucky we are to have these children in our lives, special, ordinary, or extraordinary, we are privileged to be entrusted with them. We are so lucky to know them at their purest, sweetest, un-jaded. I hope that when my boys are 20, 30, or 40. I will be able to look into their eyes and still, deep insde, I will see my babies, my sweet, sweet babies.

I am so lucky to have these boys in my life. I am downright privileged to have these happy, healthy boys here at all.

Thank goodness for Little Boys

I've always tried to balance allowing the boys to grow and explore, to be independent, to be as self sufficient as a three year old can be.

Ryan and Evan have been climbing in and out of the car by for a while now, and they've become quite competent. I constantly remind them to put their things down before they start climbing. I strap them in, hand their stuff back to them, open the garage door and off we go.

There have been many times when I thought, hmmm, someone could fall out and really hurt themselves on the hard, concrete garage floor, maybe this isn't one of the areas they should be independent. They would then successfully scurry into their seats and we'd be off.

Then it happened. The day I forgot to remind Evan to put his things down before he climbed into the car.

Crash.

Tears.

Blood.

Tears.

Bump.

Tears.

Kicking myself.

Tears.

Beating myself up.

Tears.

This is what it looked like after I cleaned up all of the blood or as Evan called it, the wrinkly stuff.


Here's how we looked as the swelling set in and the first tinges of color started appearing on our top lid.


...and here is our full blown shiner.

So, I'm a little behind, shoot me.

Let's see, excuses, well, I'm working on the boys birthday extravaganza. Which means I'm sewing almost every night. (don't ask, I'll post a picture when I'm done) I've got boxes of stuff piled everywhere because, I've got no good place to put it all, and it stresses me out. I'm in the middle of getting the boys registered for PRESCHOOL! EEK! Can you believe it? In September I will let these guys out of my clutches, er, free, er no, um, well, they'll be away from me for 6 hours a week! What am I going to do with myself. With all of that anxiety comes a mountain of paperwork, times two. I've got so many things going on I feel totally disorganized to the core. I HATE that.

Amidst all of my chaos. Ryan took a huge step.

Yep, that is him sleeping in his big boy bed for the first time. (and Evan waking him up in the morning) I went out to dinner with a girlfriend, and when I came home, Scott said..."Guess who's sleeping in his big boy bed?" Since he was on the couch, I assumed it was one of the boys. I guessed Evan, I was wrong. To hear Evan tell the story is priceless. This is how it goes according to Evan.

"Daddy and I were cuddling on Ryan's big boy bed, when suddenly, Ryan threw all of his buddies out of the bed and made a JAIL BREAK"


Also it should be noted that some time in the last few weeks Evan has taken on a sort of southern drawl. He stretches out his words like Jail break comes out sounding kind of like "Jayy- UL Breaaa-K" Really, hard not to smile when he is talking to you.

What a difference six months makes. Around six months ago I took the boys to get their hair cut. It was a disaster Evan cried, screamed, melted down. LOST IT! This time...


Not a tear, not a hesitation, jumped right up into the chair and was happy as a little clam. Ryan, he too was very happy, he "got to watch a movie". He sat on my lap the entire time Evan was getting his locks chopped, and was transfixed by the Thomas the Train movie. This is why I don't let them watch TV. He is so my child. He sat for 30 minutes with his eyes glued to the TV. I'm not sure he even blinked! Wait, this is WHY I should let them watch TV, right?

Oh, and I had my ultimate bad parenting moment. It makes me shudder just remembering it now like 10-12 days ago. We had these stupid halogen lights. One in the living room that used to be "protected" by a doll in a glass case. Well, someone ran their tricycle into the doll, broke the case, and the lamp has been accessible for 3 maybe 4 weeks now.

I heard a big crash, which is nothing unusual around here, I didn't hear any screaming, so I wasn't quick to come running. Then I heard shrieking, crying, hysteria. Ryan had touched the glass halogen bulb protector that had come off the lamp when it went crashing down to the floor. His fingertips were burnt. That glass thing was HOT. I quickly got his hands under cold running water while I went to pick it up off the floor. (so we wouldn't have another set of burnt fingers) and I still couldn't pick it with my bare hands. I frantically called the doctors office, while Ryan sat with his hand in a cup of cold water. He sat that way for about an hour and a half. Every time he took his fingers out of the water he started to whimper and then cry. By the morning, there was no blistering, and all seemed to be forgotten, except for the occasional recounting of the incident by Evan.

Evan had a tragedy of his own last week. We lost his beloved "LadyBug". I'm sure it fell out of the car and was picked up to be loved by some one else, but we had a couple of really rough days. He would look at me and say, lower lip protruding, "Where is my LadyBug?" I'd then tell him that "Ladybug" is missing, gone" and tears would form in his eyes, his lower lip would tremble, and my heart would break. Now almost a week later, he still mentions LadyBug, but he now tells me that "LadyBug has gone to look for food."

The Boys love of books continues. If you enter this house, be prepared to read to them, or to have them read to you. Today. Ryan "read" 4 or 5 pages to me out of one of his books. He got every word right, now, I know this is just pure memorization, but it was really amazing. He looked from page to page, turned pages appropriately, and when he stopped, I asked if he could read me some more, he replied, "I don't know any more."


Reading always includes cuddling, which is my favorite part.

Finally, Ryan had me laughing so hard I was crying today.
Evan has been throwing up a lot lately. Today he was near puking, and Ryan looked at him and said. "Evan if you throw up, I'm going to lose my mind."

I REALLY have to watch what I say, because it's being "recorded" and played back at me all too frequently these days!

A little deception can't hurt, right?

So, we've been reading the Harry Potter series to the boys before bed every night for a while now. Ryan and I are done with it and have been for about a week. I suggested we read Eragon, or as I told him, the Dragon Book. That brought tears the first night, so I re-read the last chapter and he was happy.

I love the Harry Potter books, and I've read all of them several times. I'm really not ready to re-read them a mere 6 months after I started Book I with Ryan. I've suggested other options, the Lord of The Rings trilogy, The Princess Bride, Grimm's Fairy Tales, nope, tears.

I decided to practice a little deception with the little man, and I'm starting to feel a little bad about it. I wrapped Eragon in one of the Harry Potter book jackets and have been reading it to Ryan ever since.

The first night after I started reading, he looked at the book a couple of times, and I think he even asked once "Harry Potter?" I continued to deceive and told him to put his head down, and said "yes, Harry Potter".

This can't scar him for life can it?

On being two

It seems that being two does something to a child. I'm sure there are a million parenting books with theories, and solutions, but nothing can prepare you for having two, two year old children. (or heck, even one)

It's frustrating. For. Everyone. The poor child does not have adequate language and coping abilities, and the parent is shocked. Shocked that their normally docile, sweet, polite, bundle of love can turn in an instant into a shrieking, whirling ball of anger, frustration and tears. How does this happen, literally in an instant.

We had an "episode" this weekend. The boys love music and are very good at telling us what song they want to hear. However this evening, Ryan was insistent that we play the "choo, choo" song. He repeated "choo, choo" about 100 times while Scott and I scratched our heads trying to figure out what song he was talking about. We played the beginnings of 30-40 songs, and he became more and more frustrated at our inability to understand what he was so clearly talking about. In the span of about ten minutes Ryan went from happy, singing and dancing boy to screeching, crying, frustrated baby. All I could do was hold him and try to explain to him that I knew he was frustrated that we didn't understand him, we were doing the best we could, and that maybe if he calmed down and helped us, we could solve the problem. We did finally figure out that the song was "She'll be Coming Around the Mountain"(They have a Thomas the Train book that plays that song, which is why I think he associated it with a choo, choo. Of course we should have put this together, right? )

Today, Evan went to work with Scott. BACK STORY: Scott has taken Ryan to work several times because Evan has had doctor's appointments and it is much easier for me to keep Evan calm if I don't have to worry about entertaining Ryan too. Scott starts his new job on Monday, and he won't have an office anymore (open workstations---I hate this business model) so in order to be fair, Scott took Evan to work with him.

(I know, it's just too cute!!!)

So I Ryan and I had some together time too. We went out and had bagels, we went to the store and then went to pick up Evan. Scott said good bye to the boys, like usual, but apparently, this was not enough. Ryan started screaming, and screaming, and screaming. "DA, DA, DA, DA" all the way home. let me repeat. ALL. THE. WAY. HOME. I could not talk him down from his hysteria, so I just turned up the music.

Yet through all of it, moments like this, are far more common than the moments I've described.


*

So why does it feel like the moments of shrieking are the true reflection of parenting skills?

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*I should mention that minutes after this shot, Ryan took off running and ran into the parking lot while I screamed "Freeze" in vain.

Neglect

I've been very neglectful of my blog, and I feel bad. I'm not sure what has me in such a funk, I just find at night, when I have time to write, my brain feels all mushy and the thought of trying to put words together is daunting.

There is the 100th post that is looming (this is post 94). There have been so many moments in the past couple of weeks when one or more of the boys has done something or said something funny or adorable, blog worthy. And had 100 not been so close, I'd have stopped what I was doing and blogged a quickie so I wouldn't forget. But, alas, 100 is too near, and I have not even begun to work on it. In my pre-twins life, I'd have had it all mapped out and written at 75 posts. (of course pre-twins, what would I be blogging about anyhow?) Now, after twins? I've had a few thoughts, but no sooner do I have the thought and it's gone again. I've even thought about going against blogging tradition and not made a big deal about the 100th post. Not even mention it. However, I'm not the kind to go against tradition. Okay I am, but, it's a nice tradition, one I've enjoyed reading on countless other blogs. Oh and all of those really cute blog worthy items? Gone. I just tried to think of them, tried to find the scraps of paper they were written on and nope. No luck. My only consolation is, there will be more.

Have I mentioned lately how adorable the boys are? I love them more and more every day. This age is so great. They are so aware of their surroundings and are so excited to tell me what they see, know and understand.

Now that doesn't mean that they are perfect. OH, NO. Not even close. We are just now starting to assert ourselves in some not so cute ways. Ryan has been verging on temper tantrums of late. Right now they are just crying fits, no kicking, no flailing, in fact when he gets really worked up and upset he comes charging at me with all his strength (and I have to tell you the first time this made me nervous, I thought I was going to have a bite taken out of my shoulder) throws his arms around me and gives me a huge hug. He knows he is out of control and just wants to be held until he can calm down.

Ryan has also been having some problems with sleeping. If you call waking up at 3 or 4 AM screaming for 30-60 minutes, falling asleep briefly and waking for the day at 5 AM a problem. I myself, find it to be a HUGE problem. This seems to be working itself out. I think I've neglected to get him adequately exhausted during the day. (In an effort to save on gas, we've limited our big outings that had him running around for 3 hours a day, to one a week. Today we spent close to 2 hours at the park, I'm testing my theory.) Either that, or all his health issues have him out of whack. Or, there is the old adage, when kids are going through big developmental changes, their sleep cycles are disrupted. (If this is the case I expect him to recite Shakespeare, or work a quadratic equation soon.) Any of the three I'll take, as long as I can fix it or if it rights itself in the next couple of days, 'cause we are all pretty tired.

Evan has been a real pain to feed again. He's had a couple of great moments where he's swallowed a Cheerio or two, or a grain of rice, or a minuscule piece of pasta (think pin head), but for the most part it has been a battle of wills. I asked him today if he knew where he got his stubborn streak, he said yes. I asked him, Where? Yep, you guessed it. "Mama" he says with a big grin on his face. Didn't I tell you these kids are really aware?!?!?

The good news is that we FINALLY have the scope scheduled. June 19th. The bad news, we go of the Prilosec tomorrow. So if it is really helping in ANY way, feeding (and possibly sleeping) for the next two weeks is going to be really fun. (read unbearable) Although feeding was difficult this week, he still managed to gain a half a pound, and he is weighing in at 26 pounds, which means, time to get tough. After the scope, if all looks good physically, and his PH study comes back normal, all these eating problems are in his 97th percentile head.

Ah yes, and Evan has been consistently telling me he has poop in his pants, and he even told me once that he was about to go. I failed to react fast enough, and it became a 'pip' before we could get on the potty. Ryan love sitting on his potty and playing with himself exploring the mechanics of relieving himself, however, he has yet to produce anything. Evan is more than willing to sit on the potty in a diaper, but is not yet comfortable being nay-nay on the potty, which makes it a little difficult to properly leave a deposit.

(I should add that we in no way were intending to start the naked on the potty phase now, we are just in the "getting comfortable" with the potty phase. But there is a certain excitement that comes over you when your child looks at you and says "poop in paw-paw" and you ask if he has poop in his pants, and he says "no, in paw-paw". That would make any parent go sprinting for the potty to throw their child on it to see what happens, right?)

But even as I sit here an type all the bad stuff. I have a smile on my face thinking about seeing their shiny little faces tomorrow morning. I can't wait to see them, as long as it's after 6 AM.

Ahhhh, Motherhood, is there anything that resembles bipolar disorder more?

What do you get when you combine two toddlers and fire trucks?

Mayhem. Chaos. One tired Mommy.

So my intention for today was to work out after the boys went down for their naps. But first we had a wonderful outing planned at the Fire Station.

It's like baby crack, or like I shot a bolus of pure sugar into their little veins. We walked in and they took one look at the giant RED FIRE ENGINES and my normally very well behaved children, who listen, hold my hands and act like civilized toddlers (oxymoron I know) turned into CRAZED MONSTERS! I could. not. control. them.

I should have made them obey, calm down, and listen. I should have left when they didn't. But I'm a bad mommy. I could not end their pure unabashed joy. I could not ask them to calm down when they were so clearly overwhelmed with excitement of the purest of pure. The were grinning ear to ear. Running around the fire trucks and ambulances (am-bans) arms flailing, I have NEVER seen Evan run that fast. I'm a bad Mommy.

Ultimately, they were in a relatively safe environment, just being kids. Wild kids. But they weren't doing any harm. Okay, that's just me justifying my lack of discipline. Now every time we go to a fire station they are going to think they can run around like crazy animals.

We got to "drive" the Fire Truck! So much fun we didn't want to give anyone else a turn. Had to be PULLED out of the truck, lucky us the steering wheel is still intact.

This shot is a little blurry, because Ryan is RUNNING as fast as he can from the fire truck to the Ambulance, for the thousandth time.

Evan running around the Federal Fire Truck, it's "gree". (green)

Needless to say, I'm sitting writing blogs instead of working out, because chasing two toddlers around a fire station is workout enough.

Scarred for Life or An Empty Page in the Scrapbook.

We had a fun weekend. Our friends Dylan and Tyler turned two and of course we HAD to be there for the big bash. It was really fun, there was a petting zoo and everything! We really didn't show a lot of interest in the animals, I think there were just too many other things going on. Both boys bounced from one thing to another and back again, which is so un-like them. Usually we have the most amazing attention spans, and are quite focused on our tasks. They weren't the only ones, all of the kids seemed to be running in every direction! What fun! Happy Birthday Dylan and Tyler!!!!

I feel a bit guilty, we didn't do anything for the boys for Easter. It just didn't occur to me. I know here we go with the bad mothering again! I briefly thought it would be fun to dye eggs with the boys, and then just didn't have time in our week. Plus, we had very few eggs. Then I started reading all these blogs, (sure fire way to make you feel inadequate, read other good mothers' blogs) about their Easter egg hunts and all the fun their kids had. Slapping self, "Bad Mother". The intelligent side of me says, they will not remember this, it will not scar them for life and it's not a big deal. The emotional side of me says, oh, darn, I missed a photo opportunity, now, their baby books are going to be missing their egg hunt pictures from 2008. The intelligent side of me says, the boys had way a lot more fun at the beach. The emotional side of me says darn it, I suck.

On the good mother side, we had a wonderful morning at the beach. Neither boy wanted to have anything to do with the water at first. Evan actually asked to go about 3 minutes after we got there. After some walking, picking up rocks and throwing them in to the water, we warmed to the idea of this beach/ocean thing. Okay that's putting it mildly. Scott had Ryan and I had Evan and we were all standing just inside the high tide mark. As waves rolled in, we'd let the boys feet get wet and then we'd say "Jump" and we'd jump over the waves. We did this over and over and over and over. We'd also pick them up and carry them like an airplane over the water and they'd reach down and splash in the water and squeal with delight. This lasted over an hour. My feet were frozen, the boys were wet to their hips and armpits, they were happy. Until we tried to get them to leave. We did the 5 minute warning, we said goodbye to the waves, and we had lots of tears and screaming as we walked back to the car. Evan cried in my arms "WAH-WAH, WAH-WAH" while pointing to the ocean, desperately trying to get free from my death grip. If I had let him go, he'd have slid down the cliffs and jumped head-long into the ocean. I guess we are going to have to add the beach to our regular outings, I could use some volunteers!

We (I) may have failed to fill Easter baskets of love, but we certainly filled the day with it!

P.S. I promise to do better next year.