Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Shea And John Graham Mellor

The Bloggies

The winners of the 2006 Bloggies were announced yesterday. Yep, that's like the Academy Awards of the blog world, except nobody dresses up (nobody really shows up, either, unless they're already at SXSW in Austin), and the prizes are usually around 20 bucks (2006 cents this year) and whatever random prizes fellow bloggers donate to the pool.

Some of my favorite blogs were nominated in various categories, including Loobylu, PostSecret, Finslippy, kottke.org, and, of course, the Mother of all mother blogs, Dooce. Some of them won and some of them didn't, but each speaks to a different part of my personal interest bank. I'm excited now to check out some of the other nominees and winners in whatever spare time I can carve out in the wee hours of the night.

Have you started a blog yet? No, I don't get kickbacks from any secret blogging agency for recruiting new bloggers, I'm just a devotee who's sold on the wave of self publishing that's giving a voice to the masses. Plus, the whole process just appeals to the family historian/scrapbooker in me; I'm hoping this blog is a great gift for my kids one day--to see what life, and they, were like when we were all younger.

Creating a blog is easy, it's free, and it's a fun way to stay in touch with family, share recipes, chronicle your family history, share a bit of your culture, or just write about things you love and want to buy. It can be whatever you want it to be.

Let me know your new blog address once you get set up so I can stay in touch with you, too.

As Close As We Get To Snow In Orange County

The Little Mermaid

When Finn was a baby and I was still getting used to the almost incomprehensible difference between childless life and life as a parent, I would regularly compare notes with friends who were going through the same process. This was how I learned that many of us were having similar experiences--that they, too, also missed adult conversation, having the time to read magazines and books, and wearing clothes that stayed clean throughout the day; that I wasn't the only one to rely on coffee and chocolate as a daily crutch; that sleep deprivation affected almost every aspect of our lives and could be so impairing as to compromise our ability to drive, let alone care for another human; and that we all cherished those rare, quiet moments when baby would nuzzle into our shoulder and let us rock him/her to sleep.

I was always so grateful for these regular maternal noteswapping sessions because they showed me that, although parenting brings many of the same challenges and rewards for moms and dads, every kid is vastly different. Comparing children is inherently problematic, as it repeatedly boils down to the old apples-to-oranges paradigm. Some of the things that were hard for Finn, for example (sleeping through the night and coming out of his shell in social situations), were much easier for other kids. Other things (learning to speak and communicate his needs) were easier for him, while other kids struggled in speechless frustration.

Certain things, though, like bath time, I simply took for granted as being neutral: not hard, not easy, just there. Finn never really complained at bath time, nor did he ever really seem to relish it. It was more of a mechanical stop on the route between dinnertime and bedtime, one that didn't usually elicit very much of a response. Rarely a fight, but rarely a party. I was sometimes even a little disappointed that Finn didn't act like one of those babies on the Johnson & Johnson commercials who, while being bathed in a sink full of bubbles, splashed and squealed and smiled as every pore filled with sheer, slippery joy. He acted more like he was in a jacuzzi and it was time to unwind after a long day of negotiating plea bargains. Maybe he'd push a toy boat around the tub or chew on a plastic lobster, but if there were no toys there were no complaints.

It wasn't until I heard from a couple of friends how vehemently their kids hated their daily baths--some with such intensity that their screaming and often violent protests suggested they were being rinsed with molten lava instead of warm bathwater--that I realized that I had dodged the bath bullet. But now that I have a second child--a very different child from the first, mind you--I'm reminded about the old comparison trap as I've discovered that the bath-hater bullet comes in an inverse--and, I'd argue, as challenging--form: the zealous bath lover.

(If you're reading this at home and are about to run a bath, by the way, I feel compelled to warn you to first make sure the bathroom door is fully closed before you read any further because the second the water hits the bottom of the empty tub, suggesting with its splash that it's about to fill it up, baby Shea will come crawling towards it at full speed from whatever crib, car seat or high chair she may be sleeping or sitting in.)

The girl's just loca-crazy-nutsy for baths.

And it's not a girly, Esther Williams/Doris Day bath love, either--nothing like the Go Go's Beauty and the Beat album cover; she's not luxuriating in a pampering pool of Calgon bubbles. The girl's there to throw down; to splash and squeal; to hurl herself at toys at the other end of the tub that must be played with immediately; to stand up and sit back down 23 times each minute; to dunk her face, accidentally, while reaching for toys, choke on the water intake, cough it off, and then do it again a minute later; and to scream, writhe, arch and howl in protest when we inevitably have to take her out of the tub. (By which time, of course, whoever's bathing her is drenched from head to toe and exhausted from trying to keep her from inadvertently knocking herself unconscious from her indefatigable bathtime play.)

The flip side of this, of course, means that she barely notices when I pour ENTIRE VATS of water over her head to rinse the shampoo from her hair. I babysat on a pretty regular basis during my adolescence and have given plenty of children baths in my lifetime, but I've never seen so much of a waterbug at such an early age. She loves it so much so that, even if she's had a bath in the morning and I'm getting ready to give Finn his evening bath, she'll hurl charges of favoritism at me and try to crawl her way into the tub with her brother to even the apparently unjust score.

Usually, I indulge her. But lately bathing both kids at the same time has been like wrestling a pig in a mudbath while giving a lecture on phonics. (Finn, as you might be able to detect in these photos, adores his foam alphabet and spells his favorite names and words with them on the tile wall during his baths these days. Sometimes, we'll spell slang words or even turn the "Z" on its side to pretend it's a second "N" so he can spell his name. Yeah, that's about how crazy he gets in the bath.)

And so it goes: At least in the bathtub, my little apple and my little orange couldn't be more different.

Sometimes She Reminds Me Of Japanese Anime

Thanks, Jody, for the hilarious shot of our frumpled ragamuffin.

Guess Who Wants To Walk Already

The Next Diane Arbus

While visiting Daisy, Cari, and Flip last week, I pulled out my camera (shocking, I know) to capture some of the sweet childhood antics unfolding around me. Before long, Daisy nestled up to me, interested to see how the magic silver box I perpetually have in my hands and in her face actually worked.

Once I showed her the basics--this setting allows you to take pictures, while this setting displays what you took--she quickly got the knack of things and was off and shooting. I was so pleased at her interest and immediate prowess that I started filling out my Christmas 2006 Gift Idea List in my mind, starting with a basic digital camera for the little five-year-old after my own heart.

While we were saying our thank-yous and goodbyes for the day I promised to show Daisy her photographs the next time I saw her, after I had a chance to print them out.

Cari, you see, Daisy's mother and my dear friend since we were 10 years old, is one of the best homemakers I know and is gifted beyond belief in decorating, sewing, party throwing, cleaning, organizing, reorganizing, cooking, juggling three kids without breaking a sweat, and most domestic things that perplex and vex me to no end, but she still hasn't mastered e-mail. And my blog? That's just something she snickers at for wasting the time I should be spending cleaning and redecorating my house, after handstitching new linens for the kids' beds and whipping up a six-course meal--with dessert!--in less than 20 minutes. Go figure. (You can already detect the distinct ying and yang in our enduring friendship, can't you?)

When I got home, I half expected to find a memory card full of random floorboards and sidewalks, of blurry faces and overexposed places, which I would simply delete into the great digital trash can in the sky. What I discovered, however, showed great promise and range, and I'm thinking Christmas needs to come a little sooner than usual for my favorite little blond flower.

Here, then, is a sampling of Daisy's first digital photoshoot.

Yeah, she's still in preschool.

Portrait

Wildlife

Scenic

Still Life

Action Shot

Self Portrait

Lady And The Trampoline

Finney had a much-anticipated playdate with Daisy, one of his very bestest friends ever, last week. After spending about an hour together nibbling on lunch, playing on the swing set, giggling on the couch, and blasting off into outer space in an empty television box, Daisy--little nurturer that she is--finally helped Finney muster enough courage to join her for a round of jumping on her backyard trampoline for the first time ever in the nearly ten months it's been sitting there.

As one could expect, once he tried it he was hooked. Twists, belly flops, bottom bounces, tandem springing--you name it, they did it, over and over again, giggling all the while. The two pals jumped their hearts out for what seemed like hours, reminding me once again just how deep the stunning energy reserves of kids extend. And before long, the once shy and reserved landlubber was trying to talk Daisy away from her Yoohoo and back up and into the trampoline for another go.

Celebrating Girls' Day

During our visit to Hawaii last month, John and I found a fantastic Asian imports store in downtown Hilo that had an entire window display filled with these one-of-a-kind little hand-carved and hand-painted wooden dolls.













We learned from the proprietor that the dolls, called Kokeshi, are coveted and collected by Japanese girls in celebration of Girls' Day--also called Hina-matsuri--recognized in Japan on the 3rd of March each year. So we picked up this adorable little Kokeshi--or Kokeshea, as I call her--doll for baby Shea's first honorary Girls' Day.

Striking resemblance, no?

I Couldn't Sit On This One Until Father's Day

It's A Toss Up

My head is about to explode from trying to decide which one's cuter here...

Why I Love Blogging

Reason #152: Because I can post about something as silly as putting my daughter's hair in pigtails for the first time and, with a catchy headline and a little groovy formatting, it looks sleek, professional and, well...., published for all eternity.

(And also because here at doubledutydiary we relish all milestones that involve introducing products and accessories to Shea's adorable mop of unruly hair.)

Hide And Seek

I'm Just Grateful They Don't Turn The Camera On ME First Thing In The Morning

Catching Up

Now that the birthday and travel posts have tapered out, I thought I'd get everyone current with the many milestones that we've experienced recently.

First, there's Shea. Although she seems to be in a perpetual state of teething, she only has two teeth so far, which she got just after Christmas. (No kidding, she got her two front teeth for Christmas. I couldn't make this stuff up.) As she's often cranky and almost always trying to shove things into her mouth, we're expecting the arrival of the upper two any day now for a matched set.

Shea ponied up with a number of "firsts" during our trip, but since then she has learned to clap her hands together and even pull herself up to standing position. Things are surely moving quick these days; it seems like we're noticing something new each week. I'm expecting her to ask me to borrow the car keys and my favorite purse any day now.

Then there's Finney, who wrote his name for the first time on Valentine's Day. Watching him pen his nickname letter by letter -- F ... I ... N ... N ... -- was like watching him paint a picture, both in terms of the suspense of watching something artful unfold and of the time it took to complete it, and when he finished the second N it took my breath away with pride. Sometimes these reactions take me by surprise, but there it is.

It was beautiful. I was proud. He beamed. So amazed were we both that he had written out FINN for the first time that we shared an ecstatic, squealing hug to celebrate.

Her First Pro Bono Gig

You may have heard me mention a time or two how having a girl baby has made me weak in the knees for the unbelievably cute clothing I'm able to put on said baby. Well, lately, one of the largest temptations to my normal budgetary constraint is a little shop called Naartjie, which sells buttery soft, adorably designed, cotton clothing manufactured in South Africa and sold at a mall near you.

And, unfortunately, at a mall near me.

I sent the company a photo of Shea, fast asleep on Grandma and Opa's new couch, wearing her fun heart romper and for about a month or so our own little bundle of cheeks and lips was featured on their site. (They rotate the images they receive, so Shea's term has come and gone.)

Here's the picture they used. Awwwwwwwwwww.

The Neverending Birthday

(OK, after today no more birthday posts. Sheeeesh!)

Before we left for Hawaii we had a little hometown birthday celebration for John's birthday. Here is the cake Finney picked out for his father from the local grocery store, which looked to me like the love child of Elmo and Mr. Krabs from SpongeBob SquarePants:

And, as Grandpa Jack was here for a visit, I was able to capture this classic image of three generations of enthusiastic cake mackers eating said cake:

Aloha Travelblog, Days 9 & 10 -- Plus Bonus Link!

Day Nine: Before leaving Hilo (and in doing so, Eddie and Amy), we all had a big breakfast together at Ken's 24-hour diner. During our stay in Hilo, we had driven by the place a few times and it had struck me as a kind of Hawaiiana Denny's or Coco's. But once inside, with a scrumptious Vegetarian Benedict and plate of Macadamia nut pancakes in front of me (it's vacation--why not go big?), I understood why Ed and Amy were such fans (they have coconut, mango and lilikoi--passionfruit--syrup for your pancakes, in addition to the traditional maple, folks!), and why there were cars idling out front, waiting for parking spots to become vacant. MMMmmmmmmmm, a great way to begin our travel day.

After visiting the local farmer's market and buying bags and bags of locally grown fruit for a pittance, we cleared out of our condo and began the trip back to Kona. We wanted to take the northern route out, as we had taken the southern route in, so we would be able to see the whole island (at least from the 11, the island's main highway). So Ed and Amy led the way north, escorting us out of Hilo, first jettisoning our main route for a brief detour on a scenic route overlooking a sheltered bay. The road was a like a miniature version of Maui's Road to Hana (which is the twistiest, jungliest, most lush and spectacular road I've ever been on), except this one was only four miles long. Perfect!

We bid farewell to Ed and Amy at the scenic road's nexus with Highway 11, promising to see them again in Northern California for their July wedding. On the rear windshield of their little car I photographed a small sticker that summed up the ethos of the Hawaiian experience perfectly: No Bad Days. Note the palm trees and fluffy clouds in the sticker's reflection, which somehow underscore the message that, sure, real life still happens to everyone and bills still need to be paid and diapers need to be changed, but life somehow seems a little easier to handle in this type of enchanted atmosphere.

Three hours later and we were once again at La Resort de Olivia in Kona, where we spent our final night in Hawaii. That evening John and I dined on Thai food, while Grandma and Finn ate Chinese food (oh, the convenient choices!). Then we shopped for the requisite chocolate-covered Macadamia nuts and Kona coffee and watched our friend shake her island thang, as she does every Wednesday night just for the love of it, with the rest of the lovely hula troupe. It was a great way to spend our final night in the islands.



Day Ten: Time to head back home. Truth be told, as hard as it was to travel with two small children (much more so than I had anticipated), the hardest part of the trip was coming home. It was a delightful respite and celebration and I'm so grateful we took the opportunity to go. I couldn't imagine a better way to mark John's 40th birthday, except by bringing a nanny, housekeeper, and a cook. Maybe next time. Or in the next lifetime.

Special bonus link: For those of you interested in seeing even more photos of our Big Island 2006 trip, click here.