Horses who live next door that we can feed apples and carrots.
The kinds of snacks Mommy does not buy for us. 
It was a long day filled with complicated maneuvers, but since the flight was nonstop, it was fairly quick and mostly painless. The airline could not seat us all four together, so we separated three (Chris and the girls) and one (me and John Patrick).
John Patrick was the best travel companion, he just slept and ate (mostly bottle) and cooed and giggled. He actually nursed during take off and slept as we landed, not one peep of a cry. The sweet grandma behind us, who was making faces at him throughout the trip, leaned over at one point to tell me that he was "exceptional" - ahhh, warms a mother's heart.
Zoe got incredibly bored, refused to sleep, and each distraction I packed for her only held about 30 seconds of interest. The only thing that captured her attention was how many kicks she could get in on the seat in front of her before her Daddy told her to stop - again and again and again. Athena is, as always, our fantastic traveler - happily going from activity to activity independently keeping herself occupied.
After twelve hours of travel, tired and hungry, we arrive at Yiayia's house.
(more to come, later)
We're off to New York for a couple of weeks, taking with us four suitcases, one diaper bag, two backpacks, one carry-on, three carseats, one stuffed tiger, one stuffed lion, two wubbies, two tired little girls (we leave at 4 a.m.) and one still slightly sick, non-nursing baby.
It's been a hellish day of runny poo, fussy babies and way too much whining and I have had it up to here and am in no mood. But, today marks two years since I started this blog which is cause for some reflection or something.
I have to say the second year of blogging was harder than the first. I think I posted less, I know I haven't been as consistent and as a result I've lost some family and friend readers. I was very uninspired for a period of time which I'm going to chalk up to being sick and miserable and just too darn tired.
But, I'm starting my third bloggy year with a fresh, new graphic look, a renewed commitment to documenting this time in our lives and lots of new subject matter (anyone know where to get a baby tee that says "Blog Fodder"?).
I can't even begin to say how much this little blog has meant to me: so much and so much more than I could ever have dreamed. Thank you for reading and commenting and being a part of it.
What is with the ears in this family?
I took John Patrick in for his 4 month well baby visit, clutching the delayed vaccination schedule I carefully researched and was prepared to defend, and discovered he has bilateral ear infections and bronchitis.
I saw no warning signs, no red flags and was totally floored. Looking back I suppose he has been fussier than usual, a little bit congested, and he has woken up once or twice during the night where he usually sleeps through but other than that totally fine, completely himself. No fever. No ear tugging. No constant crying. No usual symptoms.
His pediatrician is concerned that he has his first ear infection already, and in the month of July, and said "We'll have to watch him." Uh, yea. I'm going to have to watch him quite a bit better it seems.
(We leave for New York in three days. Come on Amoxocillian, do your stuff.)
John Patrick is our last baby. I say that with absolute certainty, permanent measures have been taken, there will be no more.
We've had a pretty good run during these childbearing years, passed that torch and now get to watch three incredibly lovable little people grow up from front row seats.
I think it's because I know John Patrick is my last baby, without the shadow of a doubt or possibility of a surprise, that every moment of his babyhood is that much sweeter and more poignant. Every day, I burn into my brain the muscle memory of the heavy weight of his little body fast asleep in my arms or the sound of his soft breathing during a nightly nursing, the feel of his warm, fuzzy head pressed against my cheek.
I am drinking it all in, eyes wide open and slurping up every last drop.
But when a phase passes, when a t-shirt no longer fits, I can happily pack it up and put it behind us marking "DONE" in big letters across the box.
One of the best things about living in California is getting to participate in all Chris' family functions. I know Chris is thrilled to be a regular part of the clan again and I love that the girls are experiencing the fun of this big extended family.
The girls loved watching their cousins play corntoss.
Andrea bonded with the little dude.
A time honored tradition of writing your name on the street with a sparkler.
Oooh. Aaah. Watching the fireworks.
We took an impromptu beach vacation with our friends down to Pismo Beach this week. Their travel plans fell through in the middle of their planned family vacation and in lieu of melting away with us in 100+ degree heat, I suggested we all head west towards the coast. So I quickly packed up for the three kids and myself and left for two days without Chris for a brief visit to the beach. Crazy, huh? But, with my very best friend, her two girls and her husband/Daddy for hire we managed.
The mornings were cold and damp, but were also the best time to check out tidepools. Shell Beach is under the cover of water at high tide, however at low tide we found seashells, crab claws, and lots of algae. In the afternoon, we went to the main drag of Pismo which has miles and miles of the softest, powdery sand. The girls spent hours running back and forth from the water to their sandcastles, building and digging and dumping.
It seems I have just enough brain cells to take care of my children and none left for myself. They had everything they needed for a day at the beach however I left my bathing suit in the hotel, I didn't have shorts (only jeans) and even though the kids were covered and wearing suscreen, I forgot to put it on myself and got totally sunburnt on my face, arms and chest (not my legs because I was wearing jeans at the beach, der).
Sand got everywhere, I am still dumping it out of shoes and suitcases. And poor John Patrick, even though he was kept covered in his carseat when we were at the sandy beach, he still had sand in all his little creases and crevices. He was very good-natured about it though and just amazing the whole trip. The girls were mostly good too, but something happens when the number of children are doubled, the intensity, crazy energy and not listening seems to multiply as well.
The downside of the trip was that my friends were traveling with their sweet little puppy and not many quality hotels will accept a pet. So we were stuck with the kind of hotel you don't want to walk around in barefoot. Our room smelled like stale beer and cigarettes and the other hotel guests thought it was a great idea to have a cannonball contest in the pool at 1 o'clock in the morning. I got zero sleep and Zoe, Sophie, Ian and I all went home sick.
All in all, even though it was quite difficult herding four little girls and a baby around, we all got sick and the hotel was a disaster, our daytime excursions were super fun and we made great memories with good friends.
Collecting seashells.
This is how we rolled.
Half of the Pismo Beach crew.
