Pictures of the Actual House

Chris mentioned that some people might like to see photos of our house, not just the neighbors' houses. So ... without further ado, some images from the MLS listing:

Upstairs living room

Kitchen

Dining room ... I have big plans to paint that dark blue wall immediately

Downstairs family room

Enjoying the View

Our new house is in a bit of a valley with huge, wooded hills surrounding us. Maybe it's because I grew up in flat, flat Indiana, but I am wowed by it.

View from the front porch:



View from the rear deck:

What the boys are up to these days

One of Darby's new favorite activities is coloring. He loves it so much that if he asks for the crayons, and you deny him, he will burst into tears on the spot. This is very different from Casey, who never had much patience for artistic endeavors. But now that Darby's doing it all the time, Casey wants to join in.

Krista gave this Five Little Monkeys puzzle to Casey for Christmas. It has 24 pieces, and at first I thought that was going to be way too advanced for him. The first few times, I helped a bit. By the third time, he put it together completely by himself.

Look how proud he is! At least, I think that's what that expression means.

I'm pretty sure this isn't the correct way to use this, but Darby finds this intensely amusing.


About a month ago, the boys and I took a trip to Indiana to see my parents. Here's Darby peeking through the railing over their staircase.

Brothers in arms

I remember when I was new to having kids, and Greg explained to me how Steve's responses could be plotted on a broad spectrum based on the nature of the screaming.  And it turned out to be true; there are many flavors of crying, and each tantrum by its tone and timbre is richly invested with meaning.  Sometimes I respond not at all.  Sometimes I find my decision-making triggered in such haste that it's minutes later that I find myself playing it back:  Did I really hurdle the couch?  I didn't even know I could do that.  And how much time did that save, really?  And now Darby has taught me a brand new variety:  the my-brother-took-my-toy scream.  We didn't get to hear that one as Casey grew up, and so we haven't known what we were missing.  But we sure hear it now.  Darby graces us with that one enough that we know it quite well.  We can tell from rooms away what just happened.  Usually, Casey has stolen the drumsticks, which lately are Darby's favorite objects.

So, sibling rivalry.  The friction continues to grow, and I just don't know how to handle it.  Hurting Darby is, of course, the cardinal sin in Casey's world, and correction on those occasions is swift and merciless.  But sometimes I watch to see how they work things out, and as Darby grows, he's becoming more and more capable of defending himself.  He's still easily outmuscled by his brother, which can be a problem, but sometimes they just play that way, Casey pulling Darby to the ground and Darby giggling and scrambling back to his feet.  It takes some supervision so they aren't knocking their own heads together, but I feel like they need some leeway for that stuff.  They're brothers, they'll enjoy it in the long run.  Right?

For some reason, I keep thinking of my sister knocking my two front baby teeth out of my head.  We worked it out eventually.

Last night I had the kids upstairs while Erika had a little space to herself in the family room.  We've been getting out the boxes again as we prepare to move from the apartment to a new house, and Casey's fascinated by the process, always making helpful suggestions on what to pack and how and where.  And so Erika was treated to the following exchange:

"Daddy, can we tape this box now?"

"What?  No, we're not packing Darby."

When I first started packing, Casey wanted to start with the cats.  We're not moving for three weeks.  Do I have to worry about this?

Fun with Darby

Darby's growing fast.

A couple days ago, Casey was upset because Darby was trying to use a plastic radio with the dragon castle.  (How cool are kids' toys, by the way?)  I played along and told Darby that the radio doesn't go with the castle, it goes with the car carrier, and do you know where your car carrier is?  Darby stared at me for a second, then turned around and toddled away.  A minute later he came back, car carrier in his arms.  I applauded him.  As Erika observed, Darby knows English!  Then he began to cry because he couldn't lift it onto the coffee table.

Darby dances, too.  Casey never really did that so much, but Darby has an instinct for it.  Yesterday, during one of the many, many sessions of Rock Band that Darby demands (I typically turn failure off and let him beat on the drums at random while the notes scroll by), he took a break from drumming, stood in front of the TV, and bopped up and down, grinning.  That's only slightly new.  Erika tells me that on their latest trip to Indiana (I missed this one), Darby at some point approached the stereo, cranked up the volume, and then began rocking out in the same fashion.  I think she'd have found it a lot cuter if Darby hadn't chosen a Cher song that she hates.

Last night Darby needed some entertaining for a few minutes, and he needed bedtime badly.  I looked around for some way to keep him occupied, and when the objects most ready to hand turned out to be plastic balls, I remembered how much Casey liked juggling when he was that age.  So I started juggling for Darby, who started waving his hands excitedly, trying to catch the balls in the air.  Then I let him have a turn.  He carefully picked up one ball in each hand, thought about it for a while, braced one against his chest so he'd have a hand free, and then he picked up the third ball.  So with all three balls cradled on his chest, he stopped again, thought for a while about what to do next, and then he threw all the balls on the floor.  He stood there, clapping and smiling, so very proud of himself.

I'm proud, too.  But I'm also surprised he finds time to develop these talents between meals.  There are so many meals.

Twas the Night Before Christmas (aka 2009 Year in Review)

Twas the night before Christmas, and the Delaneys were dancing,

to Jingle Bell Rock while reindeer were prancing.

We were kicking it up and taking our cues

from Grandma, Papa, Cousin Taylor, and Aunt Sus.

In Washington state, we dined on a polish feast,
With special kielbasa shipped in from out east.
Of all who were gathered, Darby seemed to eat most,
While Casey refused anything but PBJ on toast.

Then the stockings were taped to a window in haste,

A plate of Santa's cookies, the kids nearly laid waste.

When finally sleeping were one girl and two boys,

We settled right down to the assembly of toys.

After seeing how loud the siren really blows,

Chris doused Erika with the fire truck's hose.

Then Susan attempted Taylor's Sit and Spin,

but found that a grown-up just can't win.

Having tested the loot, bellies full of pierogies,

We envisioned our future, many nights such as these.

A cup of tea in hand, children safely all tucked,

I had a few moments to ponder such luck.

The year 2009 had begun with some unrest.
Where it would take us, we couldn't have guessed.
Chris knew his employment would come to an end,
He had leads to follow and resumes to send.

Meanwhile Darby was just a babe of eight weeks
With ten tiny toes and four chubby cheeks.
As sweet as could be, but he cried all day long.
We comforted him with endless bouncing and song.

Sleeping hardly a wink, still we persevered,
As the economy tanked and job ads disappeared.
But Chris's mom's friend's brother-in-law came through,
And he departed to Madison for a day-long interview.

Then one day in March the phone rang with a clatter;
I sprang to the desk to see what was the matter.
In the happiest voice, Chris gave me the news:
He had an offer in hand and knew what to choose.

Then he burst through the door, to us all gave a whistle,
And to Wisconsin we flew like the down on a thistle.
Well, not quite. We had many, many boxes to pack,
Much more than would fit in one little sack.

We played one last softball game and said our goodbyes,
And as we drove from Minnesota, I tried not to cry.
Once the moving truck had deposited our freight,
We set out to explore what would be our home state.

Chris loved his new job, Darby stopped crying,
and the cats settled in without even trying.
Casey resisted till he discovered the zoo,
Then he came around and decided this would do.

We spent the summer putting new parks to the test,
trying the farmer's market, State Street, and the giant brat fest.
We interspersed these with not one, and not two,
but dozens more trips to the aforementioned zoo.

This year took Darby from first smiles to walking;
Before we know it, this kid will be talking.
Casey learned to be a caring big brother;
Now Darby will follow the example of no other.

This strange land called Wisconsin with all of its dairy
Feels more like home and a place we might tarry.
As 2010 begins, our prospects look bright,
With the closing on a new house coming into sight.

Now wishing you this as I strain for one last rhyme:
Many reasons to smile as you sing Auld Lang Syne.
To friends old and new, family far flung and more near,
Merry Christmas to all, and a happy new year.

Bones

"Daddy, I have bones!" Casey announced.

"What?" I feigned amazement. "Where do you have bones?" I asked.

He pointed to himself.  "In there!"

"Yep, they're in there, all right," I said.

"They hurt Mommy!" he continued.

Apparently he's been doing lots of climbing over his mother lately, and she's been giving him speeches about how sharp his elbows and knees are.