Blue Hills: hike and high winds!

On a recent Saturday, we hit the Blue Hills, which had advertised an annual kite festival. We thought this sounded like a cool autumn activity, so we packed lunches, bundled up our three littles, and hit the road! I love all things historical, and Blue Hills--like almost every acre of land in New England--has history. It houses the oldest continously operating weather station in the country [I learned that on the tour, not by looking at wikipedia]. It also is the highest peak on the Eastern Seaboard from Beantown to Miami.

What started out as a beautiful fall day, with bright blue skies, soon turned into a blustery, cloud- covered afternoon. Becky and I had Moose in a Baby Bjorn and our girls were on foot. We decided to hike up the whole hill, which is about a half-mile hike uphill, much of it over boulders.

Yeah, not ideal for toting an infant and for having at least one child whom we knew would whine a lot. But we soldiered on. And the highlight? Our 4-year-old, Goose. She was fearless, and we were really proud of her. No complaining, no asking "How much further?" none of it. It was awesome to see her take to a new adventure with such self-confidence.

Oh, I should mention that we continued on despite hearing at the bottom of the hill, seconds after we embarked on the hike, that the blustery weather had canceled the kite festival at the top of the hill. Whatever.
That was another take-away for me: When an unexpected set-back trips up our original outing plans, push on regardless and enjoy whatever you find. Maybe the old me, the old dad, would have said, "That's it, no kites?! Kids, back down the mountain...Let's go do something else." Instead, I feel like I'm gaining a new perspective on our family plans. In the past, I might have had my heart set on what I thought everyone would like, and would foist my disappointment onto my wife and kids. But now, I think my attitude is much more of, "Let's make the best of it, and who knows? We might enjoy the revised plans more than our original plan."

Becky and Moose at the top of the hill, on a cool stone bridge that was built around the time of World War I. Our little guy was a trooper, despite missing a nap.

Another shot of our fearless leader and Our Mighty Moose. Notice, too, the bright blue sky. It would have been a perfect day otherwise to fly kites. Maybe next year?

There's a cool, two-story stone tower at the top of Blue Hills. I remembered it from previous hikes to the summit while in junior high, high school, and after. It was a neat feeling to bring my family to a place that I had explored with friends a long time ago. In the photo above, you might think I'm so enamored of my daughters that I cannot possibly hold them close enough to me. In fact, I was nervous that our oldest one was so smitten and excited with the views, including those below, that she might accidentally plummet to the ground.

And here's the awesome view from the top of the tower:

So cool. From the tower, you can also see the Boston skyline. I bet this scene would have been awesome this week, some two weeks after we were there, as the leaves have changed a bit since our visit. But it hasn't been the best foliage season in 2011.

After this, we sauntered over to the observatory, which was pretty interesting. Our girls made a bunch of paper crowns and colored images. I cut out and toured inside the observatory. By this point, the wind was blowing at about 40 miles per hour at the summit. You could hear the wind rattling all of the electronic instruments, the flag poles, and such all around the observatory. It was fascinating.

We braved two sets of steep ladders to climb up and out onto the top of the observatory, which offers incredible views. I was determined to overcome my fear of heights, and I'm pleased to say I did. It was definitely worth it. Someone else in our party, though, was less in favor of being up so high in such high winds:

That would be Mouse, in the green dotted sweater. She clung to me or Becky with a vice-like grip. She looks okay here, but in reality, she despised every second that we were up on top. Her big sister was totally unfazed. It was really cold and windy by this point, and Mouse had hiked up the hill on her own more than she wanted to, so I am cutting her some slack.

Near the observatory is a granite monument, listing all sorts of trivia, like highest and lowest temp, most snowfall, etc.

We decided to take a different route down Blue Hills. Instead of the rocky, tree roots-strewn terrain on the hike up, we meandered down a steep meadow of tall grass. Our girls had fun bounding up and down on the hilly slope.

In the winter, the Blue Hills staff makes snow on this slope and turns it into a ski area. This is where, in junior high, I learned to ski: on an icy, fake-snow crusted hill! I probably never dreamed, as a young teenage kid, that I would one day walk this very same hill with a beautiful wife and our little kids. Our reality is better than anything I could have dreamt way back when.

I love this photo. Becky and I really got a kick out of the sense of exploration that Goose (in foreground) showed on this afternoon. Nothing fazed her. She was interested in all of the nature around here, pointing out leaves and rocks and a chipmunk.

Mouse, meanwhile, enjoyed all of the extra being-held-in-daddy's arms time.

Becky, as always, brought her boundless energy and good attitude.

And Moose? He finally got that afternoon nap:

#700

We reach another blog milestone with this post...It's lucky #700! I thought it'd be fun (and quick) to review where we've been over the last almost 5 years since I started blogging. Here's a quick trip back over time, stopping at our milestone posts to see how our family has grown and what we were up to on these occasions:

100th post July 2007. I still remember a lot of the details and our feelings on this doctor's visit. I am glad that I'm often able to be at my children's doctor visits. And I miss those baby rolls!

200th post February 2008. Becky was about a month into her pregnancy with our little Mouse. And Goose was about to turn 1! I remember thinking, "How will I possibly love another child as much as I do Goose?" Obviously, you can. Looking back, life with 1 kid seems pretty easy compared to where we are now. But we're having a ball now, too.

300th post August 2008. Goose is in her crib, with me, on this post. We still have that crib, and it's now her little brother who occupies it. Mouse was still about 6 weeks away from joining our troupe.

400th post February 2009. We were just entering the phase where we felt on an almost daily basis, "Yup, we can do two kids!" Mouse was also emerging from the blank-stare stage of infancy to becoming a more interactive little charmer.

500th post March 2009. Something is wrong with my math.*

600th post October 2010. Just a year ago. It feels like 5 years ago.


*OK, something is clearly wrong. Maybe at the time I posted the 400th, 500th, etc., the count was accurate. But I do remember deleting a bunch of posts from this blog's earliest days. Either because I later didn't like them, or because I was no longer cool with what we were showing to the general public, etc. For example, last year's 600th post is now sometime in November 2010, but at the time--before I went back and deleted a slew of earlier posts--the October 2010 post was indeed the 600th, and so I titled it accordingly.

On the sidebar, if you add up the posts-by-year count, you get 699. But when I log in to Blogger to start a new post, it tells me I have 700 posts. What the?

If Blogger tells me that this post, today, is #700 (and it does), I will accept it. I was never sparkling in math. I leave all of that to my awesome wife. And she leaves all of the blogging to me.

Well, now we are on to 800, 900, and the millenial post (for you Latin majors, Post M) eventually! Thank you for reading along, and commenting, and being good sports about my posts.

Cranberry Festival!

"October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again."

I've recently been saying (and not claiming this is an original thought, but maybe it is) that October in New England needs to have at least twice as many weekends as it currently does. That way, everyone can cram in as many autumn fests, scarecrows, cider (and cider donuts) and hayrides and cranberries, pumpkin patches and apple picking, 60-degree temps and crips nights as they can, and happily roll into November after a 60-day October full of foliage and 10 extra pounds thanks to all of those donuts and cider.

Trust me, we've tried to see a slew of activities and events on our Saturdays, without triggering migraines, and it isn't possible the way the calendar is currently set up. I've even taken a few days off and it's still a herculean task.

So instead, realizing the obvious, I've taken a different tack lately: Do one event, and don't worry about running off to the next one. If it happens, it happens. But if our first event or activity is beyond our expecations and everyone's having a blast, focus on it without looking at the clock and checking the weather. It's made us happier.

That's why we hit Wareham two weekends ago for their 8th annual cranberry festival. As we drove to the parking lot, from which the event team was busing people to the events, Becky and I looked at each other with childlike wonder. We picked our jaws off the floor of the Blue Bomber and settled in for a 6-hour commitment to autumnal bliss.

So many activities were free. Admission was $5 for an adult. Our kids all got in free. Free this, free that, free samples. The place was full of people, but it never felt congested. It was a-freaking-mazing. There are certain things one must do while living in/visiting New England: Head of the Charles regatta, Harvard Yard, Dunkin' Donuts, Fenway, Plymouth Rock (tourist trap, worth a minute of your time, but just know that the rock is a pebble, and it's used for target practice by drunk high schoolers on weekends...I grew up 25 minutes from Plymouth.) Well, the cranberry festival is now another "must-do."

On to the slide show of fall merriment:

There was a neat few tables for kids to make crafts. Goose and Mouse loved all of the glitter, markers, and stickers. Dear Old Dad had to rein in his bursting desire to go, go, go all over the festival so I could sit back and enjoy the simplicity of my daughters letting their own minds get creative. I'm glad I followed their lead. We easily spent an hour here, and they loved it. I was glad for the reminder to go at my kids' pace and encourage their interests.

After I helped Mouse make her crown, she wandered off to the bean bag toss. She had the thing to herself. This was perfect--it allowed Mouse to hone her cheating habit! She innocently didn't have a clue, of course, that the bean bag toss doesn't mean you stand a foot away from the hole and lob the bag in. Becky and I kept chuckling at her antics. It was really cute. Next year, she'll likely be 10 yards away, hurling precision-guided bean bag bombs and winning the grand prize!

The next activity was an absolute hoot! There were about a dozen of these old plastic drums carved out so a kid or two could ride in each one. Then, the drums were chained together and pulled by a tractor. Every adult within eye-shot was loving watching their kids rev their engines and pose for pictures in their little cockpit.

Goose and her cousin Savanna (who joined us, with Nana and Bumpa) in the first car, with Mouse in her own right behind them.

The guy who drove the tractor was awesome. He took the locomotive on a 5-minute whirl around the fairgrounds and around shrubs. The whole train disappeared from view for about a minute behind a grove of trees. When they all re-emerged, the tractor driver was leading the whole group in "the wave," and the kids were loving it. I wish I had caught that on video.

Next stop: pony rides. The ride lasted about 2 minutes; the wait in line for a ride? How about 10 times that long. But our girls really loved it, they weren't afraid, and the ponies were calm. Both Goose and Mouse went on a pony twice.

Honestly, this was one of the best fall activities we've done in our short few years as a family. But we already smell a fall tradition brewing with this (as well as the cider, the trash bag-sized bag of kettlecorn we bought, and the cranberries). Next year, I plan to camp with our family the night before at a neighboring state park so we arrive right when the festival starts. 



Bed-headed baby boy

Somehow, this cute little guy turns 5 months old tomorrow! It feels like a week ago since we brought him home to our family. Moose is really rocking the out-of-control bedhead lately. It's awesome. Sometimes, it falls to one side. Other times, its completely flat. And in times like this afternoon, it's kind of everywhere. I didn't see this live, but I wish I had. I also think his fall jacket is sweet. There's an elephant patch on his left shoulder.

Happy 5 months, our bed-headed boy!

Speaking of out of control, that references one of my all-time favorite U2 songs, and the band's first single from way back in 1980. Enjoy this classic video. The pans over the crowd toward the end of the song are breathtaking. And yeah, I'm raising Moose as a U2 fan.

Mouse at 3!

Look who's three! It's Our Little Mouse. Becky made a Shutterfly book for Mouse's birthday, and there was a half-page for both me and her to write our thoughts about having Mouse in our family. My sentiments started off with, "You are zany."

Seriously, this girl is a spitfire. For the first 2 years of her life, I was sure that Mouse would be the quiet kid, the one in a corner reading books to herself while a birthday party whirled around her. She was less vocal, less prone to whining, more contemplative and quietly inquisitive than her big sister. Truthfully, I worried a little bit about Mouse's personality.

Well, not any more. Zany is the best descriptor for her. Sometimes, she is so comically out of control that we burst out laughing alongside her. She enjoys repeatedly performing a one-kid dance routine in our house that makes us cringe and giggle at the same time (for her sake, I'll decline to get more specific).

Her favorite catchphrase is "Boosh and Loosh," a nonsensical combo that pops out in any situation. She used it so often that I started using it...and now, in protest, Mouse refuses to say it in my presence. She frequently will whisper, "Daddy, I want you to" a) hold me; b) feed me; c) get me X,Y, Z. But when we tell her, "Please speak up, we can't hear you," she only whispers even softer.

Mouse gets a sly look on her face when she concocts a scheme in her mind that she knows will garner our attention, like when she scaled our back porch as a stepping stone to standing atop our garbage bins to wave to a friend inside our house.  (You know, instead of opening the back door that was 5 feet from her on the ground and going inside to talk to her friend).

We have recently started potty-training Mouse, and it's going well. Really well. Except for the fact that when she uses our downstairs (and only our downstairs) bathroom, she insists on resting the top toilet lid against her back. She will shriek when I try to lift the lid for her sake. She doesn't pull this routine in our upstairs bathroom.

Zany personified.

We had 3 birthday parties for her, which you may deem excessive. However, we had three distinct clientele to invite, and their schedules to work around, so voila! Three parties for a 3-year-old. Here are some photos:

It was Becky's idea to have several sporting events for her friends' birthday party. This one was bowling over cups in our front hallway.

This one was navigating said front hallway blindfolded, and with three uber-eager helpers to guide the blindfoldee home.

Again with the uber-eager helpers, with Mouse's big sister leading the pack. Mouse had a fun time each time celebrating her birthday with friends and people that care about her. The Shutterfly book that Becky made is a real treat; I envision all of us looking at it a few times a year, and especially on Mouse's future birthdays.

It was a great cavalcade of parties. Happy 3rd birthday, sweetheart!     

Moose's first tooth

That's my boy! Our Mighty Moose is 1 week shy of turning five months old. And tonight, we all felt his first tooth. We were sitting on our living room couch and Becky was a few notes on the piano into a song for Family Home Evening. Moose had my fingers in his mouth. That's when I felt the sharp, jagged little tooth breaking through on the bottom row.

I was too excited to wait for the piano solo to finish, so I yelled, "Moose's first tooth!" His big sisters immediately smothered him to discover it on their own, and Becky stopped her piano number to find out herself. We are all excited for him. He has been going up and down with sleeping at night. Some nights, he sleeps through the night; other times, he is awake on one, two, or three different occasions. We hope that his new tooth is the explanation for his wavering nighttime sleeping pattern.

He has also been so eager to eat whatever we are eating. It must be some form of infant turmoil to see delicious food mere feet away and watch as four hungry people tuck into it--and to not have any of it go your way. Moose can make it just a few more weeks, and then a whole new world of culinary delights will open up for him.

Opening up his dirty diaper? Well, I can wait on that.

On second thought, better not.

Perspective

On the days and nights when life with three kids tilts more toward crazy and away from fun, and when life in general blurs by us faster than we'd like, I need to gain perspective as a husband and father. There are things about my own parenting style that I really want to change. There are times when I give in to an impatient side of myself, or I get focused on the "How are we going to afford it all as our kids get older?" I don't have easy answers for either scenario, or others.

But sometimes, I do have easy answers. Like tonight, when I gave it to that impatient side and made a truly bad mistake of letting slip the digging criticism of "Crybaby" loud enough over a whisper that our oldest girl--the recipient of that label, the one who was weeping over every real and imagined slight at bedtime, which was dragging on by a factor of 20--heard me say that word. Seeing her curl into herself and tearily look over her shoulder at me several times made me realize what an impulsive, hurtful error I had just made.

The answer to that scenario? Several: 1) I immediately apologized and wrapped my arms around my first-born child. I promised her and myself that I'd never use that word again, even just inside my own head. 2) Committing to that pledge. 3) Being more patient and fun at bedtime.

Sometimes, I just want to hustle our daughter duo to bed (Becky routinely puts Moose to bed at the same time in his crib) that I lose sight of what's truly important. Do I really need to get annoyed that our girls just asked for another book and that another book will mean 5 more minutes of bedtime, which will cut into ESPN or a book or time with Becky?

It's not so much the scenario we're in at the time as my reaction to it that is something I want to change. A great friend recently said, "I imagine that someday my children will think of their father and not think of how many people left his clinic with less pain or how many push-ups he does, but they will think of the sound of his voice in the morning, the smile on his face, the way he never judged them."

That's the father I want to be. That's the father I glaringly wasn't at one moment tonight. And I hope that my daughter remembers the extra books we read and the games I let them play past their bedtime tonight instead of that one damaging word. Was I trying to amend my mistake? You bet I was. Did it work? Time will tell.

So, I'll greet each of my children and Becky with a laugh and an uplifting tone in my voice in the morning, shower them with smiles, and pray that I'll remember these greatest blessings and the precious time we have together as a family, and live in that time more positively and kindly.

2nd Annual Towne Breakfast

We're big on traditions here at TimBeck5. Last summer, we started a new one, a pancake breakfast with friends. Lots of friends. We called it our Towne Breakfast after Becky squealed, "Can we please call it Towne Breakfast with an 'e' on the end?!" when we discussed staging it last year.

We wanted to keep the tradition going this year. Our Mighty Moose's arrival in May, and general life stuff and plans, conspired to soak up a lot of our free weekends. Becky and I really wanted to get the 2nd annual in this year regardless, so we booked it for the first Saturday in October--the best month of the year in New England, in my opinion [take it from a lifelong New Englander!]. That was also General Conference weekend for our church. We invited tons of people, and Mother Nature intervened to bring our Towne Breakfast indoors.

Still, we had a great time. At its height, there were about 25 adults and about 20 kids--all 5 or under--in our 100-year-old house. When we weren't too busy entertaining or cooking flapjacks by the stack, Becky took some pictures:

Becky and her good friend Sierra. We're glad they'll be in Beantown for a few years.  

This is how I felt after 90+ minutes of whipping batter, firing up the skillet, and making pancakes. But whatever, it was for a worthy cause. I wore the Red Sox apron just days after the Olde Towne Team was eliminated from the playoffs. No Pink Hat fan here!

The Niemans, the Roses, and the Roberstons (to name a few), plus their kids. Goose had no problem sharing her toys, but Mouse (no pictured--probably because she was somewhere else sulking or hiding her other toys) was fit.to.be.tied inconsolable at times about kids getting into her toys.

In a happier moment, Mouse found the jar of sprinkles and liberally applied them to her pancake. 1 pancake, meet 1,083 sprinkles!

Would we do it again? Absolutely. It was chaotically fun to have that many people and fun-loving kids tearing through our house. We liked the challenge of having everyone inside, as Mother Nature had dropped showers over the Bay State that morning. And kudos to our good friend David Welles for co-manning the griddle for us. I might still be making pancakes were it not for his help.

On to planning the 3rd Annual now!

Houghton's Pond

Over a beautiful Labor Day weekend, we tried to hit several Boston-area landmarks. I've been on a kick lately to check places and events off of our New England bucket list. I've been compiling it for two reasons:

1) As a lifelong New Englander, I've been put to shame by out-of-state friends living in the Commonwealth who've visited landmarks and then told us, "Oh, Tim's probably taken you there a few times!" or "But you guys must've been there long before us." Sheepishly, sometimes the answer to either has been no. Maybe I just take all of the cool outdoors and historical stuff for granted? There's so much out here to see and do.

2) As our kids have gotten older and their schedules aren't driven by naps, it's easier to hit the sites. Not so easy? Getting everyone out the door. Becky's dad, who has 5 children, referred to that particular task as "herding cats." But once we're out, we've got our lunches packed and plans in place.

With that long prelude, here's our visit to a nice spot, Houghton's Pond :

Our prime motivator, energy-deliverer, good-natured, fun-loving Becky! 

My beloved Red Sox went into an epic September collapse just after this photo was taken. Did I jinx it? To be blunt: I don't care. I lived to see them win it all in 2004. That is good enough for me. I will ride those memories and that historic win to the end of my days and beyond.

Goose wasted almost no time before she literally took the plunge into the pond's warm waters.

And then, her little Mouse sidekick needed all of 3 seconds to decide, "Man, that looks fun!" and joined Goose in the water. We did not bring bathing suits; these were their street clothes for the day. Can you say, Long Ride Home (naked)?

From the Life is Too Short Files: It looked good enough for my girls, so I jumped in the water as well. Goose and I waded about 50 yards away from Becky and Mouse, and about 20 yards from shore. The rope on the right was the limit anyone could swim. It was also near the point where Goose would have literally been in over her head.

Unlike the girls, I did not drive home naked.

Our zany Mouse. Often up to comically no good, and often a good sport no matter what we're doing.

"Who let you take my picture?!"

The Hair Hits Concord

We took the Moose, his big sisters, and his fantastic spiky hair to Concord's Orchard House last week.

Just like with his biggest sister Goose, whose hair sprouted like this when she was young up until the time she was about 8 months old. We don't do anything to it to make it look like this. We just sit back and enjoy it!