Corn Country

They grow good corn here in Iowa.

At least that's what we've heard.

And if quantity is any sign of quality, it must be true. Because corn fields flank nearly every road and make up much of the scenery.

We decided to try the local corn out. Because honestly, Wal-mart corn just wasn't cutting it.

We made our way to the local farmer's market. I wish that I had brought my camera. The tables of heirloom tomatoes, and new baby squash, and jars overflowing with fresh cut bundles of herbs, and the backs of trucks filled to the rim with corn was beautiful.

We bought our dozen corn and went home and peeled it on the back porch, enjoying the evening.



Turns out, they're right.


The corn here is mighty good.

Behind the curve

I have a brother-in-law that buys new technology the moment it hits the shelf. He is always the first one with the newest iPhone, the latest movie-viewing machine, the most recent gaming system.

We take turns making fun of each other.

He reminds me of that scene from "The Wedding Singer," when Glenn buys a CD player for $700. If my BIL would wait, even a couple months, many items would be cheaper and better.

He makes fun of me for waiting so long. When I mentioned the Wedding Singer scene, he asked if I would wait 20 years to buy new technology just so I could get it cheaper.

And I'll admit it. When it comes to technology, I'm usually behind the curve. And it really doesn't matter what form that technology comes it.

I didn't get an e-mail address until I was a freshman in college in 2000, well after all my friends had e-mail. I was the last one of my friends to get a debit card, and it was getting fed up carrying a newborn Bug into the gas station to pay for gas that finally convinced me. We had dial-up internet forever! Well after high speed dial-up, DSL, and then cable internet came along, we were still trucking along with our good old NetZero account. I don't have a laptop. I just got an iPod.

Some of it because I'm cheap (or frugal. Yeah, let's go with that). I'll admit it. It was hard to imagine that paying $30 plus dollars a month just for internet would ever be worth it, when we were getting our dial-up for $6.95/month (we had gotten a special deal by threatening to change services.) So what if I spent much of my undergraduate career wanting to throw things at the computer while waiting for pages to load...at least my frustration was cheap!

The other part of it is I'm always a little skeptical if the new technology will really make things better. Maybe it's just another way to brag about how "with it" you are.

But this week, we've made a change that would have my BIL cheering for joy.

We got DVR.

I wasn't sure we needed it. After all, we had a VCR. I could just set it to record shows while I was at work or at the lake. I had even gotten quite good at setting multiple grograms on the VCR. Yeah, it was inconvient. Yeah, sometimes we misjudged the start or end time and never knew how LOST ended. Yeah, the quality of the picture was lacking (nowhere near as amazing as the HD picture Hubster insisted we sign up for the minute we bought a new TV.) But still, we already had the VCR.

(But now that I think about it, I'm not exactly sure what happened to our old, boxy, non-LCD-flat-panel. I'm beginning to think it may have had some help meeting it's untimely demise.

Anyways.)

So, I wasn't convinced.

But we have crazy schedules. Now probably more than any other time. And I've started the nasty habit of falling alseep during the season premier of Psych, or before the champion is named in Chopped. Hubster doesn't really have time to constantly be programming the VCR, especially now that fall premiers are right around the bend.

I was sold on the DVR within 2 minutes of having it. I could record all the new episodes of America's Got Talent. And watch it whenever I want. In HD! We can record two shows at once. No more conflict between Survivor and LOST. And recording is easy: just a push of a button. No more timers, making sure the VCR clock is aligned with the TV clock, worring about how much tape I have left, wondering if I really turned the TV to the right channel.

I thought the cable menu was the best thing that ever happened to TV watching (seriously, how does anyone do it without it?) I've decided now that DVR is going to take TV watching to a whole new level.

I think I'll call my brother-in-law and let him tell me "I told you so."

Hair Cuts

Between residency starting, working on our home, and just plain having fun exploring our new surroundings, some things got moved to the bottom of the to-do list.

Meaning that Blaise and Roman have spent several weeks looking looking a little scruffy. Blaise especially started looking like a little sheep dog.

The Before

So with both boys' hair hanging in their eyes and combing hair in the morning become more of a "snarl-and-tangle" fest, we made our way to get haircuts.

Roman, in typical fashion, didn't say a word to his stylist, except, "Fine," when asked how he liked his hair cut.

Blaise sat in the chair by himself and didn't even whimper once (not even when the clippers came out.)

No more hair impairing their vision. No more, um, nearly mullets (hey, Blaise's hair just seems to grow a little faster in the back) or Elvis sideburns. And they both look pretty happy about their new dos.

The After

Mission Accomplished

We decided that we should hurry and celebrate while we still can.


Blaise is potty-trained!

Oh, he still has the occasional accident, and still wears a Pull-Up for naps and bedtime. But other than that, we've done it!

He can wear underwear all day, and keep them dry. We can go shopping, to the park, or on a walk, and he stays dry.

He tells us when he needs to go. Sometimes, he goes by himself and then comes to find us to tell us he's already gone.

We owe a lot of his success to popsicles. Once we started using popsicles as a reward for going potty, we started making a lot of headway. We were already having a lot of success having him go bottomless. Once we added popsicles to the mix...well. Blaise is potty trained. It helps that he would always give half his "piddle Skittles" and half his popsicle to Roman. Once Roman figured out that he got treats when Blaise went potty, Blaise got a lot more encouragement.

We're celebrating now, because we know it may not last. School is starting back up. Roman will be starting 2nd grade. Keith will be going back to work on some final dental prerequisites. Blaise will start attending daycare (more about that later.) With all these changes, there is sure to be set backs.

But we are not going to let that distract from the happiness we feel at being once again, diaper free!

Now, if only we could get Blaise to wear clothes again.

Monkey

I'm just going to come right out and say it.

Monkey has been a difficult child.

It nearly kills me to say it. Because he is so ridiculously cute. But nearly everyday, Hubster and I look as him after he has finally fallen asleep, and just stare at the occasionally still dirt-smudged pile of smooth blond hair, little nose, and dimpled elbows and knees, and wonder. How can he possibly be so darling, but so exhausting and frustrating at the same time?

From the moment he was born, the personality differences between him and Bug were apparent. He was always awake, more social, and grinned at every object within view.

Little did we know, that was just the beginning.

Bug, now 7, was always content to just read, draw, or do nearly anything that would allow him to be busy, but by himself. He was usually quiet. And although occasionally moody, he was usually quite well behaved.

This, of course, allowed Hubster and I to clap ourselves on the back, foolishly thinking it was our exemplary parenting skills that had lead to such a wonderful child.

Monkey, on the other hand. Well, we thought our house our house was child proof...

The minute he could crawl, he would go to the cupboards and try to open them. Of course, he couldn't get past the child locks, but this did not stop him from trying everyday. Just like a velociraptor on Jurassic Park, he would daily try the locks on the off chance that one day, he would get around them.

He would follow his older brother every second, and destroy anything Bug tried to do. Block towers, beware. Train tracks, doomed. Puzzles, not a chance. He even enjoys a little independent destroying. There are only a handful of toy cars that still have ownership of their tires, the rest having been chewed and pried off. Books that made it by Bug unscathed met their untimely demise during the moments we suddenly realized we hadn't heard Monkey making any noise for 2 minutes.

We have an ottoman that no longer resembles a piece of furniture, after being used as a chew toy by Monkey.

Once, when he was about 18 months old, I was cooking dinner. I turned around to see Monkey holding a huge ball of dryer lint that he had fished out of our (covered) kitchen garbage bin. He was chewing and shuddering. In the half second that I had been frozen with the horror of it all, he took another bite. I immediately became unfrozen and extracted the fuzzy gray mass from his chubby hands, and held his still lint covered hands under the facet. And the whole time, despite the screaming I was being met with, wondering why, WHY, did he take a second bite?

The terrible twos have been especially terrible. We haven't escaped a store without a display being knocked over, the shopping cart being pushed into some unsuspecting shopper, a fit in the middle of an aisle (all for unknown reasons, as he never asks for candy or marshmallow laden cereal), or some content of our cart being chucked out and occasionally hitting an innocent passer-by. We've even contemplated giving up food shopping and living off the grass in the backyard. (Of course, we've tried just not taking him, but sometimes circumstances just don't allow it. And leaving your two year old child in the car like a golden retriever is frowned upon.)

I've been asked to leave a shoe store after Monkey was discovered licking the entire front window of the store that was within his reach. All within the time limit it took me to turn my back on him to look at a cute pair of red pumps and think, just think, about trying them on.

Not everything is difficult. He is a better sleeper than Bug was (or is.) He's not a picky eater. He is happy 90% of the time. And we try to focus on these (and his overwhelming cuteness) anytime we start feeling our nerves being stretched a little too far.

We've had months of frustration, wondering if any of us would survive this time period. But then, he curls up on my lap, smelling of sunshine and grass and stuffed animals, asking for a story, and my heart just crumples inside. He looks up at me with his amazingly wide blue eyes and tells me I'm his best friend and I wonder how I ever get mad at him. I walk in the door after a 13 hour day and he runs up, grabs my legs, and says "I missed you and I've been good!" And I get an ache in my chest from the love I feel towards him.

Monkey turns three in a few weeks. We're not sure if we will be leaving the terrible twos behind or just entering the terrible threes.

What we do know, without a doubt, is that we are in for an adventure.

Slipping Away

The days until the start of school tick down. The evening comes sooner and dusk is shorter. Sun no longer pours through my bedroom window at 6 am. There are yellow leaves in the backyard, just a few, hiding away between the crowd of green, but they are there, just the same.

I can feel it.

The end of summer.

The days are still warm. The mosquitoes are still plentiful. The corn is still tall and rippling in the endless fields as we drive to the lake.

But it is still there.

The end of summer.

Summer ending makes me sad in a way nothing else really does. It is not the heartbreak of losing someone dear. It is not the twinge of sadness I get when I watch Finding Neverland. It is not the nearly crushing sadness that overcomes me when I'm sorting through boxes and find a picture of Bug or Monkey when they were just weeks, months old and I wonder where the time has gone and what did I do with it and how, why did I waste a second of it.

Summer ending is a diluted emotion compared to many of these. But real regardless. I feel some of the same ache that I wasted any of the sun laden days. That I will soon say good-bye to the hum of the evening insects, the rustle of the leaves, the glow of the fireflies, and the soft hush and ripple of the corn.


The season, that like so much of my life, I take for granted until it is gone.

I love fall with all the dynamics fall offers, everyday different. I can't help but smile when the first layer of quiet silver snow finally obscures the starkness of empty branches and bare ground. And I enjoy the energy and growth that each spring gives.

But summer...summer is my dearest friend.

Relaxed. Mellow. Good for me. Reassuring me that if I don't get to it today, it's okay, because it will still be there tomorrow. Tomorrow will still be warm, sunny, and happy.


But gradually, daily, I can feel it slipping away. My mind immediately jumps to fall, winter, spring. And now, even now, with the thick humid air still around me, I'm already looking forward to next summer.

Still Summer

As the days to the start of school count down and the occasional yellow leaf appears in the trees on my way to work, I can start to feel it.

The end of summer.

We're trying to take advantage of every sun-filled, warm-temperature day we have left (even though this sometimes competes with work.)

Home renovations have occasionally been put on hold.

Dishes have not been done.

There are more important things to do.

Ride bikes. Play at parks.

And visit the beach.

I know that I've said Hickory Hill Park is my favorite place in Iowa. But Lake MacBride is in constant competition for that spot.



We spent a day splashing in the cool water and sprawling on the warm sand.

Blaise would shout, "Look how brave I am," and then run out to shoulder depth in the water, instantly making me panic, rush after him, and drag him back to safer depths. Gotta keep a close eye on that one.



Roman was content to build sand castles with the occasional run and splash through the water.



And we all made it home without sunburns.