The birthday blog, extended version...

So, yes, we held out to the very end, hoping he would change his mind, because there really is not a thing you can easily find in the party store to support it, but the request remained clear - TRASH TRUCK PARTY!!!

So, way too late the invitations read:
Its a trash bash
Collection time:
Collection site: the Nilsen dump
Billing inquiries, etc:

It's actually quite obvious, how all pre-school boys' birthdays should be, as it turns out - no more cleaning up before the party, just trashing down!!!
First activity was "smush the gush" (home made play-doh), abhorrent to some, but others got stuck right in...
The most successful activity was one grandma thought up on the spot - for future reference it's called "Make the Trash", aka "tear the sunday paper to pieces and throw it up in the air", and it was HUGE, for all age groups...
Next up, "tack the trash on the trash truck" (and we ask you please to note the recycled use made of the sunday paper), a long wait for some, but a big hit especially for the mom, who got tons and tons of kudos from children and grown-ups alike for drawing a mega trash truck ...
Not quite sure what this cute couple was looking at, but they were caught in the middle of some tremendous excitement, and that was kind of cute...
...and here's trouble, Lars and the two Jonahs very politely listening to the instructions for "Race to recycle" the most elaborate of the activities, and probably a little too complex for the two-three year old set - the trash got sorted correctly for the most part, but the whole "back behind the line and bring one piece at the time" concept got well and truly lost in translation - come on, seriously daddy, who recycles one piece of trash at the time? You take it all to the cans and recycle it right there, it's that easy!
Cecilie striking the fatal blow to the poor trash truck pinata (not strictly by the book this approach, but highly effective...) Check the slo-mo action shot of the dads keeping Jonah C's head out of the line of fire.
Grabbing for loot...
It might not be apparent to the dear readership what a chocolate rainbow cake has to do with trash trucks, but Lars was insisting on both and who is to deny a birthday boy his wishes? And not just any rainbow cake: "a COSCO (sic) cake, Mommy. Only a COSCO cake"
...we're quite sure his wishes came through...
The party goers digging in...
Some gratuitous Lars "photograph" shots... you could argue he's got the wrong end of the posing stick, or just agree with us that it is somewhat hilarious - we're building quite the collage for later presentation...

...and in the middle of it all, Jonah C was MOST content being chief Railroad Engineer...

The pink suit session

Getting ready to bust the chops on the papparazi ...

Fresh faced sweet little girl...

She is holding her head for 15-20 mins stretches now, and looooooooves it when someone stops to chat with her

"Daddy, put that camera away, I just did an enormous poop!"

Those nutty Nilsen kids

Annika believes in traveling in style, right down to her handmade sweater with itty bitty bunny buttons

And hey, if you've got an outfit that works, might as well break it out again!

Here's a boy who sometimes misses being mommy's baby...

And I gotta get loose, footloose, put on your Sunday shoes..

Trash talk

The last 5.3 tonnes of rubbish from the renovation (TWO years ago) finally went to the great beyond in this dumpster...

...in the acceptance speech for greatest removal of the year, I will thank farfar for helping with the heavy lifting, motrin for the power to heal, and my gorgeous wife for bearing with me for TWO years in trying to get rid of the stuff

One little guy was happy that it took two years to finally move the crap out; surely the best pre-amble to the trash birth day - let's pretend we put it all off this long as a part of the birthday master plan...

...on the day itself, a ride on the REAL truck. Maybe not quite up to Health and Safety code, but hey, they let us...

Winter Roaming

At the playground, all fresh faced and bushy tailed atop the Big Slide

Mister monkey man traversing the monkey mountain

...and if there really was any doubt - we went to the Zoo the next weekend to check on the primal link

The coolest thing we saw all day was the hook and ladder and to get to stand on the ladder, the way coolest!

The big 3-5, aka Beach Blanket Bingo

Yes, acknowledging that we aren't getting any younger, it is at least good to know that we live in paradise; and since really, every day is a party here the banner was a bit superfluous but it looks kinda good, don't you think? (Ignore the messy kitchen while you admire...)

Coming back from work dad was greeted by the locals as he was led to the tiki bar for a margarita...

Hours of preparation coming to fruition as the kids put final touches on the m&m mosaic beach scene...

One happy beach bum, and his beach babe
A little father son banter on the beach front...
Final, irrefutable proof that Elton John fathered Christian Slater...

The bringing you up to date blog...

OK guys, the harrasing works - having sent farmor and farfar back a cross the atlantic we are set for another bunch of updates in short shrift, so we start off where we left off, the first week of February...
A certain fireman, practicing some wicked rock throwing skills, at the "muddy river" near grandma and grandpa's house
Cecilie's balancing skills are beyond reproach, this log crosses the river and dad is the one reluctantly being dragged along... (for the record)
Hanging with the Martens crew, being up to no good what so bloody ever, but too cute to ever be steered down the straight and narrow...

So, here we are at the beach... Basking in the sun with temperatures hovering a little over freezing on the walk from the road to our front door; as it turned out it gave Cecilie all sorts of ideas for how dad's birthday was to be celebrated...

Valentines breakfast was a quiet affair, with dad gone, but there was heart shaped french toast to go around and Valentines from Mommy & Daddy

We're going back to the future... and for your information - Barbie Magic of Pegasus does NOT get any better in 3D

Quite unaffected by all the goings on, Annika grew to be the biggest girl in her "class", still exceptionally content swimming with the fishes! Upcoming blogs will reveal her talent for a sweet smile.

Going black and white

We're lucky enough to have friends with talents, so on "Dad's day" at Cecilie's school Dave captured this shot of Cecilie and I being all deep in discussion - the subject was capital punishment, just kidding...

...but we did cover off who will be the next president, over the creation of valentine cards: she is undecided between John McCain or Barak Obama in case you're wondering, keeping her cards close to her chest, as she should...

This Damn House

Many of this blog's early posts were dedicated to ups and (mostly downs) of the purchase/renovation/inhabitation of our house. In the process, it acquired its name: Big Yellow House. We acquired a subscription: This Old House. [For the benefit of our global audience, this is a magazine devoted to the care, renovation, maintenance and general obsession with houses built with no modern conveniences, but plenty of um, character. ]

Both Torbjorn & I are huge fans of old houses. I like to compare it to the idea of being 'pre-disastered' from The World According to Garp - the house has already taken a beating from previous inhabitants, and thus it will be more forgiving of our riding roughshod over it's feelings. But this tolerance requires a bit of forgiveness on our part as well, of all the just plain weird things about our home.

Tonight, we walked in carrying sleepy kids after a day out, and the entire house reeked of rotting potatoes. Enough that Lars wakened sufficiently to raise his head and demand 'what is that strange smell?' Only, there are no rotting potatoes anywhere! Another day, both grandmothers called our cell phones frantically insisting that house was about to blow, there was a strong smell of gasoline in the air. But even the gasman couldn't find a thing amiss.

Last February, the day of a pre-Valentines supper party we noticed an unspecified odor in the basement. As only the kids would be down there, we didn't worry. But over the next few days, the smell ripened into what could only be called "The Smell of Death"! It was to the point that Cecilie would tell perfect strangers that "a big animal has died in our basement, maybe a squirrel or a fox!" With my in-laws due to arrive within 2 weeks, let me just say, we tore apart that basement. Again: no source.

Then there are the weird squeaks in the floorboards. The whims of the plumbing: our system doesn't always play nicely with the other utilities. The upstairs radiators are fighting with the downstairs; the upstairs won't put out. When it rains, the basement walls seep (weep?) in a random sort of way. Not a single door in the house shuts tight, except for one new bathroom door. (And yes, that means not even our front door is very secure)

But oh, we're pretty sure this house likes us, and we love it, no matter what our differences. We love the 2-foot thick basement walls, we love the old oak floorboards, we love the original trimwork throughout the house, we love the big front porch. There isn't a straight line in our house, and that's ok. (Imperfection is a big theme in the Nilsen house...)

So yeah, we deal with the Smelly House, but things are good here in Paradise. Whilst we look for those elusive potatoes.

In case you were wondering...

For the past week, every night as I've put the kids to bed, Lars has shared this with me:

"Mommy?"
"Yes, Lars?"
"Some blind people drink beer, and some don't."

Performance Review

So, late at night, I mean truly in the middle of the night, you're up breastfeeding and what do you think about? Well if you're me, you think about EVERYTHING. 3 am feedings don't suit the naturally pessimistic and worrisome.

Anyway. I compose these lengthy and (ifI do say so myself) hilarious blogs, that convey the bathos of full-time mothering in all of its glory. I come up with great titles, pithy little phrases that crack me up even in my groggy state. And by morning, its all gone. Disappeared in an exhausted fog.

but I do remember that the past few nights, its been all about performance review. One of the things I loved about my adult life (pre-kids) was that I stopped caring about how I compared. But it sneaks in, when you're mothering. First little niggle is whether your baby is keeping up with the Baby Joneses. But the grownup in you, along with the books/magazines/websites, say that this is silly, and that "all babies are unique and meet milestones at their own pace." Of course they do.

But that grownup in you doesn't get the same benefit of the the doubt.

Everywhere, there are less-angry moms, more patient moms, more involved moms, more chilled moms, smarter moms, working moms, moms using their brains, moms who've lost all the baby weight, moms who wear great clothes -- moms who wear makeup!, moms with very cool blogs, moms who write it the way I meant to say it, braver moms, more thoughtful moms, moms who don't drink, moms who get enough sleep, moms who know why their baby is crying, moms that exercise, moms who remember birthdays & get cards out on time, funny moms, moms who don't go overdrawn, financially responsible moms, moms who remember to make the kids clean up, moms who do great playdates.

the last week or so, I've been feeling that the whole world is doing it better than me. I think the exact phrase that comes to mind is decidedly inadequate. The delicates often get mixed up with the jeans, the toy room often doesn't get picked up, Lars asked me to 'stop growling', Cecilie made up a sad song that went "I thought I'd get someone who was kind to me; I thought I'd get someone who smiled; instead I got a grumpy one...". And I still haven't read The Kite Runner.

So: whaddya do for inadequacy? Put on the makeup? Lace up the running shoes? Give up caffiene for Lent? Start each day by apologising to my kids?

I'll tell you what to do: stop getting up at 3am.

The Brother File

Here's our jack in the box; he's getting so big and really good with words...

...but sometimes he resort to growling, on one such occasion last week Kirsten asked "Why can't you use your words Lars?" and the answer was resoundingly: "Because my moth was just too full..." -full of beans we presume

Here is frown (as opposed to a growl) that really seemed to impress Annika! But typically he is an exceptionally sweet boy, if Cecilie pushes him around too much, or she doesn't quite "get it", his most used phrase is: "Helloooo sister, wake up!"

Being left alone and watching some TV in hand knitted jacket, this time from Farfar!

Nilsen Girls

First trip in the swing... she's extremely exited about it, of course

This one is just a loony one, what can I say...

She's really starting to be much more communicative, and we are mostly having a ball; please be advised that although her feet are "quite considerable" those socks are not exactly fully "on" her...

We had a sleepover at grandma's for Super bowl - Kirsten narrowly missed having a matching outfit so she got a rain check for this pastoral scecne...