I have two daughters.  I have two girly daughters.  Anyone who knows me and my daughters has probably laughed either to himself or right out loud to my face as he considers this situation.  Because I'm not only NOT a girly girl, I have spent about 90% of my life taking great pains NOT to be a girly girl.  The things I enjoy are not the typical knitting, scrapbooking, shopping, cooking, etc.  No, I enjoy math/science or logic avenues (when I can get them at work or doing school with the girls), playing my trumpet, working with my husband on remodeling our basement, fixing things around the house and yard, or running.

Funny things happen when you become a mom.  You learn a lot about yourself as well as your kids.  I still cringe at the continuous wedding planning that happens at our house.  Or the many, MANY babies that seem to be born to my girls.  The tea parties I have unwittingly demolished by throwing some toys back in the bin after bedtime, and the "babies" that are sleeping under anything that could remotely be construed as a blanket...  However, I've found myself guiding my daughters through this by introducing reality to their play.  Little details about weddings that they could incorporate into the game, or facts about newborns they might not know yet.  Encouraging these fantasies that I'm sure I never felt compelled to pretend when I was their age.

But then there's Tinkerbell.  The epitome of girliness, to whom both girls developed varying degrees of obsession around age two or so.  She was/is everywhere in their room.  When we got the first (of three!) of her movies, there was a part of me that thought perhaps we were going too far in encouraging such stereotypes.  But then I sat down and watched the movie with them.  And... I was shocked.  Tinkerbell, as I should have guessed from her name, I guess, is... a tinker.

She's an engineer.  Like me. 

She doesn't enjoy all the "girly" jobs the other fairies do, like the garden fairies, the animal fairies.  She is, instead, good at inventing new gadgets and working with her hands to fix gadgets.  She is SO COOL!!  I love that she opens up the world of non-traditional jobs to my girls.  But I mostly love that she is the heroine of her own stories.  It's the complete antithesis to the princesses (which are another obsession...  I'm still trying to get over that one) who seem to live their lives waiting for the prince to come, but meanwhile being so innocently naive that they require forest (or sea) animals to protect them from evil. 

I don't think of myself as a feminist, usually.  But when it comes to my girls, I hope and pray that, like Tink, they will learn practical life and people skills and have healthy and flexible expectations and ambitions, so that when they leave my house and jump into life on their own, they will be prepared to be the heroines of their own stories.

I wonder if Tinkerbell comforters come in queen size.

Since moving to this house last March we've discovered many things we love about the house and the area.  Not least on this list is the nearby university.  Tuesday and Thursday nights now can be spent standing outside listening to the marching band practice.  I suppose for some people that would be incentive to keep the windows closed, but for those who know me well, you know that I will freeze myself (and my children, as you will see) to listen to a few minutes of some good brass music.

Last night around 6:30, the kids and I found ourselves pulling into our driveway quite disappointedly, having just discovered (the hard way) that the library closes at six o'clock on Thursdays.  As we got out of the car, none of us looking forward to bedtime, suddenly I heard sweet music wafting to mine ears.  My evening plans suddenly clicked into place, and I herded the bewildered children back into the car.

I drove onto the campus, and we then literally followed our ears to find the football field.  (We missed the entrance on the first run, however, leading to several sly remarks from the girls about whether I'd be able to find our way home.  Which I handled gracefully by threatening to revoke their bedtime stories.)

It was chilly and well into dusk as we climbed out of the car and onto the bleachers to watch the marching band practice.  We were rewarded, however, by the start of a complete run-through of the show about five minutes after we got there.  For the next 15 minutes the kids watched in rapt attention as a wall of mingled tuba, trombone, baritone, trumpet, and (it was dark, I can only assume) flugel horn sound washed over the stands, peppered with the crisp staccato of snares, quads, and the beat of the basses.

My four-year-old gave me a great grin showing me how much she enjoyed this break from routine.  My younger daughter declared that she wanted to "wear purple and dance" like the color guard.  The baby didn't really change expression the entire time as he clung to me.  However, his eyes were glued on the movement, ears on the music, soaking in every detail.  And the fact that he wasn't screaming from being tired, teething, or having his ears accosted by an unheard of volume of sound, tells me there is hope for him, too.

My lovely little boy has turned six months old. Oh, where has the time gone? Actually, that's not my feeling at the moment. Right now, it seems like he's been six months for a week or so.

On Monday, CJ's actual "day" (NOT a birthday, you only get one of those per year), he finally figured out how to move forward. It's a combination of scootching up his knees so his butt is in the air, then propelling himself forward with (this is the new part) his arms pulling himself along and not getting in the way. Totally not coordinated in any sense of the word, but it's working for him. And he's getting better at it each day.

Today the new skill is grunting and groaning at his toys. He is pursuing this with abandon.

CJ had his six month check-up yesterday in which we learned that he is long and lean. 28 1/4 " long, dang boy! This is (I like to think in terms of percentages, because I can't remember average heights for children) in the 95% for boys. Part of that is that the nurse had a slightly tilted pencil when measuring, but I'm counting it regardless.

He's also (hopefully) putting together a substantial morning nap. It's been two glorious mornings in a row with a nap at 9:00 lasting over an hour. This may be the beautiful beginning of a schedule.


My girls are wonderful as well, but that will be another post. They need haircuts.

L just informed me, "Mom, this baby's coming out, so I have to run to the hospital."
Mommy: "Okay, let me know if it's a boy or a girl."

As a side note, L has decided since she was about two, or even earlier, that I shall be called "Mom." I have tried teasing her by calling her a contrived shortened version of her name, and she just looks at me with her Mom-you-can't-be-serious look. I love how she likes to make her life distinctive in her own little ways.

Okay, now a brag about my older daughter... she's well on the path to reading! She just finished her "short 'i' sounds" booklet ("Miss Fix and the Class") and will be moving on to the "short 'o' sounds" readings. I'm so proud of what she's accomplished this summer. At the beginning of the summer, and for about the six months prior, she pretty much just knew her letter sounds and was begging for more. We finally decided that whatever the plans (or lack of such) for kindergarten, however busy we are, we couldn't just ignore her obvious hunger to read. So, we're scheduling in a little time for reading every day. And, as a result, she's making progress every day, and I am so, so proud of her.

Well, forget about the haircuts. That'll be another day.