It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Actually, as of 7 a.m. it was already warm and humid, with the promise of a hot and muggy day ahead. But hey, the sky was pretty, so I thought it was a good opportunity to give those of you who've never been here a peek at our neighborhood. Our house is the closest in the foreground. We're at the base of a VERY steep hill.

Speaking of the neighborhood, here is the posse of gals who went out last weekend to dinner and to see "Sex and the City." We've lived here in Atlanta (and East Gate) for three years now, and over the last year we've finally immersed ourselves into the social elements of our environs. It's a terrific community full of young families such as ours, and just good people all around.

Lab rat

This morning I held Danny steady and sang “You Are My Sunshine” to him while the nurse drew three vials of blood. We’ve been doing this quarterly since he was four months old. He’s perfectly healthy, at least for now. But after being screened at birth for his risk factor for developing type I diabetes, Danny’s was found to be higher – he has a three percent chance of developing type 1 diabetes, compared to the .3 percent chance that the average baby has. As a result, we were asked to participate in the TEDDY Study (The Environmental Determinants of Diabetes in the Young). The study involves blood samples, charting of diet and illnesses, and monthly do-it-yourself stool samples, among other things. Clearly, this was not a particularly tempting enterprise, despite the $140 annual payment for completing the required visits. So why did I choose to subject him (and myself) to this? After a lot of consideration about my circumstances as a stay-at-home mom who has the time and the means to participate, I felt a moral obligation. With any luck, Danny won’t come close to diabetes. But perhaps his child will. And if we can do our part to prevent or cure this disease, which currently has neither, I like to think that he’ll grow up to be the kind of person who will be proud of his contribution. For now, he’s just happy with the ball he selected out of the treasure chest.

Livin' la vida lago

As a California almost-native (who's counting those first three years in Kansas, really?), I'm definitely an ocean girl. The magnitude of it, the crashing waves, and the salty air are a winning combination for me, no matter what the season. During my years in Chicago, Lake Michigan was a reasonable substitute, because it's so large it looks like an ocean. Of course, it was hardly ever warm enough to enjoy it...but I digress. When we moved to land-locked Atlanta three years ago, it seemed I was limited to chlorine-filled bodies of water. For the past three summers it was a perfectly acceptable way to beat the heat and, more importantly, keep the kids occupied. Swimming pools don't generally rank high on the scenic scale, though. So, while the South's acres and acres of trees and the lush blossoms of spring always take my breath away, I had yet to experience any aquatic aesthetics worth mentioning.

Fortunately Jennifer was around to open up new worlds to me. Jennifer is an Atlanta native and a veteran of the lake house lifestyle. She and her husband recently pulled the trigger on a house on Lake Martin, Alabama, and about one hour after closing on said place she extended an invitation for us to visit. Amy and I decided that, with husbands working long hours and the kids no longer in school, it would probably not be a bad way to pass a few days. Beyond that, I had few expectations. The prospect of four other kids and two other moms around was more than enough to motivate me to load up the car and hit the road for two hours. Both Clare and Danny were very excited by the concept of the "lake house," despite neither having a clue what it really meant. Well, now they're hooked - and so am I.

It helps that the as-yet-to-be-named house sits directly on the lake. There are panoramic views from almost every window. The giant screened-in porch that runs the length of the house is truly all-purpose, too, providing great play space and even better wine-sipping spots for after the kids have hit the sack. But it's the dock and lake that are the main attractions and which won us over completely. The dock is nestled on a quiet corner of a tree-lined cove, with just a couple of other houses barely visible. The water was so refreshing, without any salt in the eyes. And the lack of sand is a HUGE bonus. Minnows and other small fish were occasionally spotted, although with our rowdy bunch they didn't tend to linger (much to Olivia's nature-loving dismay). We dove, floated, cannonballed and swam away the morning and afternoon hours as though we were born to do it.

I was particularly excited by Clare's enthusiasm for the water, as she is by nature a cautious swimmer. By the end of our time there, though, she was jumping in (with a floaty), swimming with Brady back and forth underneath the dock, and taking long swimming adventures with me out into the cove. In fact, that's she and I, in the far distance, in that top picture. How far she has come from two years ago, when she wouldn't leave the steps of the pool! And how far we have come here in Atlanta, where my friends feel like family and the memories grow more meaningful every day.

Jennifer, when can we come back?

The good life

Tim and I frequently marvel at the difference in travel between our own childhoods and our children's. Tim was ten years old before he ever flew on an airplane. I was only three, but that's still significantly older than both of our children. Clare was three months, and Danny a mere three weeks when they began earning frequent flier miles - emphasis on frequent. While we flew perhaps once a year, our kids now fly at least four times a year, and usually more. With grandparents on opposite sides of the country, air travel is naturally a part of our lifestyles, and we feel blessed that we are able to make the trips that we do. It helps that our families make the receiving end so worthwhile!

Case in point is the Park Country Club in Buffalo, where both Clare and Danny have been privileged to attend since their infancies. Danny made his debut at his Aunt Karen and Uncle Brian's wedding when he was three weeks old, but yesterday's visit was obviously the more memorable (for him). We had planned to go to the Park Club for dinner as the grand finale to a fun, full, family weekend celebrating Grandma's/Donna's 65th birthday. The outing didn't start out auspiciously, however, as Danny awoke from a long, deep nap in a horrific mood. Anything and everything had him in inconsolable hysterics. Until Daddy said the magic words: "golf club." The speed with which Danny raced to be the first to the car was impressive, and from there on out he was a delightful little chap. (It helped that both Grandpa and Daddy took him on walks around the terrace overlooking the 18th green.) Meanwhile, Clare decided that the Park Club is her favorite restaurant in Buffalo, because she got to have the salad bar and then the sundae bar for dinner. In fact, she declared herself to be "a Park Club girl," at which point Tim simply whispered to himself his ongoing mantra: Just work harder, Tim.

Tuesdays

Amy, Jennifer and I have a dirty little secret. While we extol the virtues of our preschoolers learning a second language, there's a much more base rationale behind signing them up for Spanish for Kids every Tuesday: they stay later at school. As a result, we get to have long, sometimes leisurely (today notwithstanding, thanks to Danny) lunches together. It's a terrific tradition that we started last year, and today was the last one of the year. We each start out the day with a workout, thereby earning our lunch. Amy and I typically take to the trail while Jennifer goes to her fancy gym, and then we meet up to a) have Jennifer weigh in on whatever "pressing concerns" we discussed while walking, and b) get caught up on the stories she has been storing up for us - she's always got at least one! Danny and "my Parker," as he refers to him, meanwhile crack each other up, make eyes at all three of us, and generally enjoy the attentions of three mommies without sharing the limelight with the older siblings. In other words, it's a win-win for all. Oh yeah, and the older kids can sing some vowel song in Spanish...

Guardian Angel

While yesterday's event at Christ the King was billed as a "meet the teacher" day, it wound up featuring a different highlight. Last week I received a phone call from a lovely little girl named Claire Gordon. She informed me that she was going to be Clare's Guardian Angel at Christ the King, and that she was looking forward to meeting us at the event on Friday. I had no idea how old she was. I had a vague recollection of this Guardian Angel program involving fifth graders. She was so self-possessed on the phone, and genuinely friendly, that it seemed she must be older. Not so much. In fact, she's only in fourth grade! However, as far as Clare is concerned, she hung the moon.

The introduction went down like this. At the opening of the event, the principal called each child up to meet his/her teacher, and they filed off to a classroom with them while we stayed behind for all the blah-blah-blah type stuff we tuition-paying parents better get accustomed to hearing. Approximately half an hour later, the children returned, led by their Guardian Angels. Clare was beaming. She held up a picture of her name that big Claire had colored for her, and couldn't wait to introduce me to Claire - who was also beaming. While the principal had already given us the low-down, I let both girls explain that Claire (thank heavens they spell their names differently, no?) was going to be Clare's buddy, showing her the ropes around CTK so that it wouldn't be such a strange, new and overwhelming place to be. Isn't this the best idea ever? (As an aside, Clare's buddy Max has two Guardian Angels, both boys, who looked, as his mother so eloquently put it, "shell-shocked" after meeting Max. So his experience might be a tad...different, shall we say.) Big Claire led Clare over to get a snack, and then proceeded to enthusiastically introduce her to all her fourth-grade buddies who wandered by. She happily showed them the picture that my little Clare had colored for her. I don't know what impressed me more, her maturity or her genuineness. If this is the kind of person that CTK is helping to nurture, then our money is going to be very well spent indeed. Not surprisingly, Claire was the topic of Clare's conversation all day.

Max, a.k.a. Sir Loyal Heart

For three years now, Max Congrave has been a constant for Clare in what has often been a sea of change - and vice versa. They first met as two-year-old preschoolers in the same class, navigating the then-uncharted waters of Atlanta, potty training and Catholic school. They both experienced the additions of new siblings within a month of each other. They switched preschools together, and were once again in the same class. In fact, they've been in the same class for three years now. And for three years, they have declared each other to be their boyfriend/girlfriend, and are very serious in their intent to marry each other. So much so that Max discusses this daily with his mother and his nanny.

This fall they will both move to Kindergarten at Christ the King. However, as we discovered this morning at the "Meet the Teacher" event, they will not be in the same class. This is of some concern to Max, who responded to this news in the following way: "I don't want a new boy to take her. If he does, I'll kick him." Having said this, Max marched off to his class. When the two were later reunited, I overheard Max ask Clare, "Did any boys tell you that you were beautiful and try to take you?" Clare assured him that they did not, but Max did feel obligated to ask this again. Apparently Clare started to think that maybe she should be concerned, too, because she then asked, "Did any girls want to marry you and tell you that you're handsome?" She's safe for now, and Max later whispered, "You are the love of my life" - but then explained that this is what Shrek says to Fiona. Still, he's quite the gallant young man, isn't he?

Here's a picture of Clare and Max back when they were three (and Danny was a froggy baby):