Thursday, September 4, 2014

Aidan turned 13 and I loose all track of time

He is amazing and difficult and has been 13 for 36 days but he is real forgiving too,
and funny and really not funny at all because he is 13 and a whole lot smartassy,
and lovey and does that head-nod-hey thing that boys do,
and works hard but balances out with the required sleeping in and video game time,
and is creative and destructive because he can't resist taking every single flipping pen apart in the whole entire world,
and is learning to bite his tongue while smiling and showing respect and venting when he gets home
and nerdy in the best possible way because you know mama loves a nerd anyway,
and makes us proud every single day,
and boy scout-y and lacrosse-y and computer program-y and big brother-y,
and is a mini version of tony complete with old man impatience and big soft heart and eyelashes for days,
and still plans to own a zoo some day but has a couple of plans to get the financing in order. 
And he is the love of my life. 

Thursday, June 5, 2014

She's 11...

My baby!

I love her the mostest of the hostess cream heart pie.  Like for real.  I can't help but smile like a fool when she walks into the room.  Eleven looks good on her.  She is Nadia through and through.  Independent.
And still all about family and friends and furry loves of her life.  And we are all about her. 

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

may we have many more

A month of opportunity.  It's almost like the month itself gives you permission. 

May we start an adventure?  Why yes, you may!
May we dream the big dreams?  Certainly!
May we fall in love?  Absolutely!
May we celebrate our anniversary?    At least not now.

These fourteen years have given us plenty.  That plenty includes children.  Those children include responsibilities. 

And you know what?  I wouldn't have it any other way.  If you had told me fourteen years ago that we would be running our kids to activities and getting up at ungodly hours just so we can talk to each other every morning and that we would fall asleep with our booties touching every night I don't think I would have imagined it all being so satisfying. 

I love you Tony. 
May we have another year of all of this? 

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

mr. bachart goes to washington

that was our hashtag, 'cause we are cool like that. 

Aidan didn't like it. He wanted #watowa  or #monumoments but I said No.  I am the adult so I get to pick the ridiculous hashtag.  And that is how you parent in the 21st century.  The end. 

Except it is not the end.  It is only the beginning!!  The beginning of our vacation pictures, that is!  You can thank me later. 


Tuesday, March 25, 2014


Look at that face? 
I mean, come on! 

sporty spice

I vow to stop saying we are not athletes.  We, meaning Tony and I, are not big on organized sports, granted.  It might be our reluctance for social interaction.  It might be our reluctance to be told what to do.  It might be our lack of coordination, but really, maybe, that it just me.  Come to think of it, as long as it doesn't involve a ball Tony is a natural at things that require arms and legs moving in various directions.  Like rollerblading.  I gave Tony a pair for graduation, he slapped them on and rolled away down our bumpy sloped road like he had always had them on his feet. But I have to stop saying we are not athletes, because he are active.  Is there an activlete?  Or an althtive?  Because what I mean is we get after it.  We set little goals, do the work to get there and set some more.  We stick to it.  So really, isn't that what an athlete does?

No. 20
So maybe there is hope for the Bachart Babies.  You wouldn't look at us and say that we are a smooth bunch of people.  Or graceful.  Or maybe even coordinated.  You would say that we are willing to try.


For his whole life long, Aidan has been reluctant to show what he knows until he really knows it, if that make sense.  He didn't try walking.  He studied it, and practiced on the sly and then one day when Tony asked him to hand over the remote, he just walked across the room.  Same-same with reading.  He couldn't bear the thought of sounding out words.  He would read in his head, over and over until he knew he had it.  Then boom.  Hop on Pop!  

But this Lacrosse thing?  He is out there trying.  You can still see him studying.  You can see him shift his shoulders anticipating what he would do as he watches a play by play in his head.  But he is out there too.  He gets knocked around.  He gets knocked down too.  He gets whacked with sticks and stepped on.  He's not ready to do the knocking or whacking quite yet, but he loves it.  All of it.  The coaches, the kids, the rules upon rules upon never-ending rules.
He is out there, and he loves it. 
I, however, have chewed my cuticles to nothingness.

Monday, March 10, 2014

i'm coming home, i'm coming home

That song from the Resurrection trailer played over and over in my head on Saturday.  Half in part because of the road to Huntsville and half in part because of my Nani-B in the backseat.  They both kept it on repeat for at least 40 of the 50 miles. 
That's what spring in Huntsville feels like, though...home.


Nadia's rendition includes something about raise the flag, mom, I'm coming home that I rather like.  Her home is and has always been the bustling town of Pasco, but it is clear that she is most at home in her muck boots feeding two lambs at once or making a contraption out of fencing and what have yous.  There is a theory about cultural genetics that says a way of life seems to be passed down through DNA.  You feel your homeland, even if you have never been there.
I wonder if there is something to that.