a toast

here's to girls' weekends. here's to husbands who work all week, and then take care of their children for two days and don't complain a bit. here's to parents who generously offer their beach house to their daughter and friends, when they could have gone down and enjoyed it themselves. here's to girlfriends whom you've met through work or church or childhood, who know your faults and love you anyway. here's to staying up late talking on the deck while sipping peach daiquiris. here's to applying sunscreen on only one body -- your own -- and marveling at how much easier the process is when it's not a little slippery one that squirms away from you.

here's to fitting all of your beach necessities into a small shoulder bag. here's to waking up late and lingering over a hot cup of coffee while soaking in the most gorgeous view God put on the planet. here's to long, meaningful conversations about everything from kitchen disorganization to parenting to faith to good books and bad movies. and here's to sunday evening, when you can't wait to walk through the door, kiss your husband, and swoop your children up in your arms and hear all about what they did while you were gone.

full of hot air

enemy #1 of the mann household these days: the balloon. it all started a few weeks ago with the debacle otherwise known as the movie "up" -- that new pixar flick about an old man who hitches his house to enough helium balloons to lift it off the ground and on a worldwide adventure. cute enough premise, and those colorful balloons in the commercials looked so fun! i did my parental duty before taking liam to see it, researching to make sure it was appropriate for a four-year old. every article i read gave it a glowing review, and one columnist even commented that it was so tame that he couldn't figure out what gave it a PG rating instead of G.

well, mr. know-it-all movie reviewer man, let me just tell you what this momma thinks. i'd hazard a guess that the PG rating might just come from the pack of wild dogs that are an integral part of the story. the fang-bearing ones who ferociously bark for almost two hours while on their mission to capture a certain bird and kill it. the ones that turned my sensitive child into a trembling mess, burrowing his head into my shoulder a half-hour into the movie. the ones that ultimately resulted in him hightailing it to the nearest aisle as fast as his two legs could carry him while flinging an "i'm outta here, mommy!" behind him.

you might argue that it's the dogs i had trouble with. but really, it's those dadgum balloons, because had disney not marketed the movie with those balloons in every poster and trailer and commercial, i doubt i would have shelled out $15 at a matinee to suffer through it. and those aren't the only balloons that have wreaked recent havoc in our lives.

11 p.m. last night found chris and me precariously perched on our bed, armed with a flashlight, tweezers, scissors, and even a knife, trying to untangle a string from the motor of our ceiling fan. a string that had once been attached to -- you guessed it -- a balloon that susanna had brought home from the grocery, which had somehow made its way up the stairs, into our bedroom, and then gotten sucked into the blades. by the time we realized what had happened, the balloon was history, but the ribbon was so tightly wound around the inaccessible part of the fan that we had no choice but to dismantle the entire thing to remove it. 45 minutes later, chris drilled the last screw back into place and collapsed into a fatigued heap.

but not before he said, "NO MORE BALLOONS." you don't have to ask me twice.

smooth moves

the word "free" might just be my favorite word in the entire english language. i'm also fond of the words "sale" and "discount" and "cheap" ... but "free" definitely beats them all. as i was scanning the business section in the newspaper earlier this week, "free" practically jumped off the page at me in a tidbit about a local smoothie place. i zeroed in on the information, taking note of the important details. this is something we would not miss. in honor of National Flip-Flop Day on june 19 (betcha didn't know that flip-flops have their own national day!), this restaurant was giving out a free 24 ounce strawberry/banana smoothie to any customer wearing flip-flops. so on friday afternoon, i loaded the kids into the car and we headed out to the tropical smoothie cafe a mile down the road. i just had one slight problem: neither of my children own a pair of flip-flops. crocs are our summer shoe of choice, but clearly, donning crocs would not earn us a free smoothie. so i had to improvise. we slowly ... carefully ... shuffled into that restaurant, susanna wearing one of my extra pairs that were literally twice as big as her feet, and liam wearing a hand-me-down pair that might fit him in a year or two. they reminded me of many of the elderly residents at my grandfather's retirement home, exercising the utmost caution as they moved inch by inch by inch. they only faltered three or four times before making it successfully up to the counter to earn their treats. the kids were about to FLIP when they were handed that huge cup of fruity goodness. and believe you me, it was worth it. our date at tropical smoothie cafe was definitely no FLOP.

does GOOD luck come in threes?

chris gave me an anniversary band a few weeks back, and i love it so. it matches the wedding band that we designed using his great-great-grandmother's diamonds, and i wear it on the other side of my engagement ring. three hours after i put it on my finger for the very first time, i looked down and realized that one of the diamonds was missing. gone. the prongs were there, the other stones were intact; i hadn't hit my hand or gotten it tangled up with anything. but there the hole was, mocking me. oh, one other detail to mention. i was sitting on the beach when it happened. you don't realize how many things glitter and shimmer on the beach until you're frantically looking for a diamond. in the previous fifteen minutes alone, i had swum in the ocean, helped susanna build a castle, and collected beach glass fifty yards away. i knew it was pointless to search, but still, i had to try. i got on my hands and knees, squinting at each grain of sand as it sifted through my hands. and then -- i found it. nestled about six inches away from a hole liam was starting to dig, there it was. unbelievable. fast forward to this past weekend. halfway through my second set in my tennis team's district playoffs, my strings broke. i was crushed, because the back-up racket i keep in my bag is so outdated and heavy and unusable that i'm not sure why i even bother toting around the thing. needless to say, i was thrilled when our pro shop re-strung my main racket directly following the match. i will not bore you with the details of how the rest of the story unfolded ... just that i placed this newly re-strung racket on the top of my car when i got home. a few minutes after chris left to take the kids to the pool, my phone rang. "well, honey," chris sighed, "you neglected to tell me your racket was on the roof." driving down one of the major roads in our neighborhood, he realized something had flown off and pulled over to retrieve it. but before he could open the door, a car came behind him and ... CRUNCH ... my racket was toast. he grabbed it from the asphalt and tossed it in the back, i'm sure marveling at how air-headed his wife could be. (good thing he had already given me that ring.) this is where it gets really crazy. i was in the line-up for the finals on sunday afternoon, and brought my run-over racket to the pro shop to see if there was a demo that might work as a similar substitute. i handed it to the manager, telling him the story, when he inspected it and then gave it back to me. "i don't know how," he said, "but it's actually fine. aside from the tire marks on the rim, you're good to go. not a crack anywhere on the frame." unbelievable. so i played (and wound up winning) with my run-over racket. my team is now headed to state championships in pinehurst in a few weeks. a diamond, lost in the sand: found. a tennis racket, run over in the middle of the road: unscathed. i should sign off now. i'm going to go buy a lottery ticket.

the big ten

last thursday, i asked the kids, "do you know what tomorrow is?" excitedly, liam exclaimed, "FRIDAY!" which struck me as funny. adults have every reason to look forward to the end of a workweek. but why in the world does a four year old care that the weekend is right around the corner? are the lazy days of summer and playdates and pool excursions just a bit exhausting? anyway, i replied, "well, yes, you're right. it is going to be friday. BUT it's also mommy and daddy's anniversary!" and since i know my kids as well as i do and could anticipate what was coming, i went ahead and defined the word "anniversary". i told them that ten years ago, we got married in our church and kissed at the end. susanna's eyes lit up. "were you a princess?" she breathlessly asked. i thought about my long white dress, the veil on my head that could serve as a reasonable substitute for a tiara to a three year old, and the fact that my dashing husband wore tails and those shiny black shoes with the promise that we would live happily ever after. so, yes, i replied. for all intents and purposes -- or, at least, for all susanna's intents and purposes -- i was a princess. the next night, i walked into liam's room to see chris finishing up a story with the kids. he was in an old t-shirt and athletic shorts, sitting on the floor amidst matchbox cars and babydolls, and seemed as content as a man could possibly be. when the downstairs clock chimed 7:30 it hit me that exactly ten years prior, we were dancing our first dance at our reception. i marveled at how insanely different our lives have become in one short decade. four career changes, two dogs, three houses, two cities, and oh yeah, two little people who didn't exist back in 1999. i'd say that the word "different" is a bit of an understatement. but one thing has remained the same, from the first time i laid eyes on chris at a bar in D.C. thirteen years ago. he's still, and always will be, my Prince Charming.

guest contributor

unbeknownst to her (at least, until she checks the blog), my sister is responsible for today's post. she sent me the following today, which happens to be our tenth wedding anniversary. (more on that later!) it rang so true that i thought i'd share.

----- Hey Sara! There was an article in the NYTimes blog yesterday about trying to write a graduation speech. It made me think of you! Here's an excerpt: At the moment, I’m thinking of talking about the chief way our society is messed up. That is to say, it is structured to distract people from the decisions that have a huge impact on happiness in order to focus attention on the decisions that have a marginal impact on happiness. The most important decision any of us make is who we marry. Yet there are no courses on how to choose a spouse. There’s no graduate department in spouse selection studies. Institutions of higher learning devote more resources to semiotics than love. The most important talent any person can possess is the ability to make and keep friends. And yet here too there is no curriculum for this. The most important skill a person can possess is the ability to control one’s impulses. Here too, we’re pretty much on our own. Two out of three ain't bad. ("Mmm bop" ruins your chances for three out of three.) Happy Anniversary! Love, Leslie

boppin'

you know what they say about the little things in life. i upgraded my cell phone about ten months ago, and have always wondered how to personalize the ringtone. when i bought my previous phone, the guy at the sprint store did it all for me, and i was a happy customer each time it trilled "oh susanna" to let me know of an incoming call. but when my phone changed, "oh susanna" evaporated into the cellular universe somewhere and i never found it again. i gave up trying to find a suitable replacement -- until today! armed with a free promotional code and a half-hour to access customer service (since these technical things kind of baffle me), i settled on my most favorite song ever made. the one i set on repeat on my mp3 player when i run on the treadmill. the tune that makes me just plain HAPPY every time i hear it. the pinnacle of 90's boy band cheesy pop: mmm bop by hanson. the added bonus every time the phone rings? my two children, smiling from ear to ear, boppin' to the beat right along with me. their heads start swaying, their feet start moving, and i swear to you that liam even told me that my phone was now cool. (and the grimace on my music snob husband's face, as we all drive him crazy, is simply the icing on the cake.) go ahead. click on the above link and turn up the volume. you know you want to.

be careful what you wish for

yesterday marked an important milestone for the mann family: liam's last speech therapy session. most likely, ever.

he's been receiving speech therapy services for well over three years now, classified with the oh-so-technical term of General Speech Delay since he was eighteen months old. i could write a book on the journey we've been on, which started with a slight concern on my part, then a wait-and-see approach by our pediatrician, then hearing tests (which he passed), then screenings, then evaluations, then diagnosis, then treatment. the treatment has involved, in my estimation, about 350 sessions with individual therapists. we are extremely fortunate to live in a state where such therapy is provided to preschoolers by highly skilled, caring providers, all free of charge, which is especially helpful since our insurance doesn't cover private speech therapy for a General Speech Delay.

i've learned many things through this journey with liam, including methods of conversing with a non-speaking toddler, tips to elicit multi-word responses, and ways to encourage communication between him and his peers. but something else i learned through this journey is that many adults don't have a clue as to what to say when the topic of a child's delay comes up in conversation. many tried to reassure me: "but you can tell he's smart!", as if i doubted his intelligence. (the boy was reading at a third grade level at the age of three and is doing double-digit multiplication in his head. i have no doubt that our son is smart.) or, "i'm sure he'll catch up, in his own time. i wouldn't worry about it." (which inferred that i was over-reacting to this diagnosed delay and that he really didn't need any help.) but the one that bothered me the most was when other parents would breezily remark, "be careful what you wish for!", rolling their eyes while their own child rattled off a soliloquy. "i sometimes wish she'd hush for just five minutes!" i would nod, knowing they meant well ... but inwardly marvel at how unintentionally insensitive people could be. there i was, obviously worried about my son, anxious about his development, consulting with professionals ... and they're telling me that they wished their child DIDN'T talk?! when i took a step back, i knew that these were all well-meaning friends who were simply at a loss for what to say. still, it didn't make hearing those comments any easier. but, thankfully, those days are only a distant memory now. liam has truly thrived this past school year, making unbelievable progress in such a short amount of time. his evaluation last month determined that he is at age-level in his language development, with no more concerns or delays whatsoever. praise God! no time was this more evident than last night, during our short drive to the t-ball team party following his final game. for the entire ten minute ride, liam sat in the back seat and did. not. shut. up. he replayed every inning out loud, even though we had just sat in the rain and witnessed it all ourselves. he mused over the pizza toppings he wanted at the restaurant. he recounted everything he had done at summer camp that day. he discussed the rest of the weekend's plans. he talked about what his next big purchase might be with his allowance savings. he began to plan his birthday party in august. and on, and on, and on. i honestly don't think any of us got a word in edgewise. for a split second as he caught his breath before launching into another monologue, chris grinned at me. and then he said it: "be careful what you wish for." but this time, knowing that it was coming from my husband, who's been through it all with me, i simply glanced in the rearview mirror at our happy, healthy, intelligent, amazing little boy ... and grinned back.

donkeys

"what is she doing?" my mom asked. she was watching susanna through the kitchen window as i was preparing kabobs for her birthday dinner. up to my wrists in marinated chicken, i briefly glanced up before returning to task in front of me. "oh, she's feeding the donkeys," i replied, absent-mindedly. i moved onto the pile of steak cubes, wondering if i had enough skewers for the piles of veggies and meat that remained on the cutting board. my mom's laughter brought me back to the conversation at hand, and i then realized how ridiculous "feeding the donkeys" sounded. but that is what susanna was doing, and she'd been hard at work for a good ten minutes or so. i stopped to observe my little girl, who was doing the exact same thing she'd done for the previous five or six evenings. she had retrieved her red plastic wheelbarrow from the storage room, had steered it over to the fence, and was loading it up with pinestraw. over and over again she would kneel, gather what she could in her small arms, and place the pile inside. she then maneuvered the wobbly contraption over to the other side of the yard, set it down, and tossed out the pinestraw in small batches, talking all the while in her sing-song voice to the empty air around her. (she had informed us that first evening, upon inquiry, that she was feeding her donkeys.) as soon as she depleted her supply, she grabbed a hold of her wheelbarrow and started the process all over again. her imagination knows no limits. i could regale you with hundreds of similar stories, where i sit back and marvel at how creative she can be ... but it's finally starting to dawn on me that i can put this heightened sense of imagination to good use. i mean, she's three now. she needs to start earning her keep around here! so, next spring, when the grass is starting to grow again underneath a blanket of hundreds and hundreds of pinecones that need to be picked up and put out for curbside yardwaste removal ... well, i have a feeling that my back won't be hurting quite as much. i have this suspicion that her donkeys will have decided to move to the more scenic surroundings at the end of our driveway. and their "hay" just won't satisfy them anymore. yep, i'm thinking that those hungry donkeys of susanna's are going to have a hankering for pinecones. we might need a bigger wheelbarrow.