Tales from Suburbia

RIP

2007-04-12T16:08:00.000-07:00

Farewell, Billy Pilgrim. We'll miss you in the Monkey House.

A sign we should be contributing to the spring pledge drive

2007-03-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

Fiona authored her first book recently and it's all about flowers. The title is "Flawr Book" and it's three chapters long. She did all her own illustrations and research. Here's a quotation from her literary debut: "Wif a grat del uf blosuming flawrs omost blosum evre yer." Translated, "With a great deal of blossoming, flowers almost blossom every year."

Her chosen pen name? Steve Inskeep.

Happy Valentimes Day!

2007-02-14T11:52:00.000-08:00

I've never been a particularly Valentinesy person. Before Andre and I became a couple there were very, very few Valentines Days when I was actually dating someone, so I was always the bitter girl who got kicked out of her dorm room so her roommate who actually had a date could get lucky. One year my friend and I papered our dorm with homemade posters that said things like, "Happy VD! Cupid and his stupid arrow remind me of the time I punctured my hand on something sharp and it got infected and filled with pus." I know. What can I say? We were angry, angry women and it was the Deep Thoughts era.

Andre and I don't really do anything particularly romantic for Valentine's Day because it's a made up holiday. And when I typed that just now I felt the burning embers of resentment from high school and college flare up a little bit. Stupid Valentine's Day!

This year though, two things have put me in the Valentine's spirit. Fiona has been soooo excited about Valentine's day and made all of her cards by hand. She laboriously glued red construction paper hearts to doilies, decorated them with stickers, wrote all the names on by herself, taped mini packages of M&Ms to the back, and then added an extra horse sticker for the people she really liked. Her class party is today and she's been planning for days what to wear. How cute is that? I hope she doesn't grow up to hate Valentine's Day and paper her dorm with posters equating Cupid to pus. But I also hope she doesn't date anyone until she's 25, so I guess those two hopes are mutually exclusive.

The second thing that made me happy was a Valentine's themed craft exchange I did with a group of my online friends. We had a limit of $10 and the only stipulation was that it had to be related somehow to Valentines day. This was the most fun idea ever! I loved seeing what everyone got and I loved my present too. My friend Ginny knit me a gorgeous red scarf, shown here as modeled by Amelia:

I hope you all have a happy, happy day. Even if it is Valentine's Day.

Pig Farm

2007-02-11T15:56:00.000-08:00

I never thought I'd be grateful for the memory of dead piglets.

Back in the 80s, my sister and I stayed with my grandparents for a week or so each summer. I'm not sure how old we were on this particular visit, probably 7 and 10 or a little older. My grandparents had a funeral to attend one afternoon, so they asked some family friends (we'll call them the Smiths) if we could come spend an afternoon on their farm while they went to the church and reception. My great-grandparents had sold the farm to the Smiths when they retired, so my grandparents had known them for years. What better place to leave the grandkids for an afternoon, the old family farm with a family they trusted.

Despite growing up in a rural town, I'm pretty sure we came off as city folk to the Smith's kids. The oldest daughter decided to take us around the farm that day so we could see what her chores were like. As the oldest kid on a pig farm, her main chore was to check on the piglets. That entailed going from sow to sow to see if any of them had accidently rolled over their babies and crushed them to death. Pigs may be smart animals, but they certainly have a high infant mortality rate. There were dead piglets in many of the litters. Some had been there a little too long and had already started to attract flies and maggots. The oldest Smith daughter nonchalantly grabbed each dead piglet, maggots and all, and flung it into a wheelbarrow.

After an afternoon spent with the piglets, we sat down with the family for supper. I don't remember the meal very well, but I'm pretty sure it included pork. I'm also pretty sure I didn't have much of an appetite. My grandparents picked us up shortly afterward and we went back home, none the worse for wear except for a newfound disgust for farm life.

I'd pretty much forgotten that day on the pig farm until my mom called me yesterday. She gave me the rundown on the family gossip and then slipped in that Mr. Smith was just arrested on six counts of child molestation dating back to 1983 and with girls as young as 8. I had one of those shuddering "there but for the grace of God go I" moments when I realized that both my sister and I had been placed in the care of a child molester for a day. Thank heaven that our memories are of dead piglets and not something much more horrifying.

Misinformed

2007-02-06T19:46:00.000-08:00

Fiona came home from school today with a couple of questions that had obviously been bothering her for awhile. "Mommy? Is the rain really God's tears? Is he crying because we're bad?" she asked.

"No buddy, the rain is not God's tears," I said. "Rain is just water coming out of the clouds."

"Oh." She thought for a minute. "If we tell a lie do we burn forever and we never get to see our families again?"

"No sweetie, that's not true either. Who told you this stuff?"

"Laurie. She said it was true. She said we'd burn forever and we'd never get to see our families again if we tell lies."

I have no idea what church Laurie goes to, if any, or if she's picking it up from some other kid. This is a hard thing for me to explain to Fiona. I don't want to dismiss other people's faiths and have Fiona go back to school and tell Laurie that her church is totally twisted, but I also don't want my kid thinking she's going to burn in hell for all eternity if she tells a fib.

I told Fiona that some people believed something like that, but that it wasn't true. The reason we don't tell lies is because our conscience tells us to do right things and nice things, not mean things and naughty things. I was going to go into a whole spiel about having a moral compass and trying to be a good person, but she was already over the whole conversation and wanted to make valentines instead.

I need to work on an age appropriate philosophy of morality. It would certainly be easier to just tell her that she has to be good or she'll go to hell.

Jokers

2007-02-03T11:31:00.000-08:00

Fiona is totally into telling jokes right now. They don't really make that much sense yet, but she's quite convinced that she's hilarious. Her jokes tend to go something like this:

Why did the rock star cross the road?
To get to the other side of his rock band!

That joke actually combines two of her favorite things, jokes and rock bands. She's going to be a rock star when she grows up, she's informed us. Awesome.

Amelia loves to do anything that Fiona does, so she's telling lots of jokes too. This is how Amelia's jokes go:

Amelia: Knock knock!
Me: Whos's there?
Amelia: Knock knock!
Me: Who's there?
Amelia: Knock knock!
Me: Who's there?
Amelia: Giggles

Ker-splat

2007-01-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

Amelia has the stomach thing that's going around and is having a hard time shaking it. Just when I think she's finally all better, she barfs again. Usually on herself, the floor, or me. Sigh...

My poor little perfectionist

2007-01-17T12:36:00.000-08:00

Fiona hasn't been to school since last Wednesday because of the stupid snow. Finally, finally today the streets were melted enough that it was safe to open school again. They did a "late start" day which I was pretty sure meant she had to be at school two hours after her normal start time, just like every other school district in the area. Did I check their website to be sure? Of course not!

We got to school exactly two hours after the normal start time and there were no kids in sight. Oops. "Late start" for our district is actually an hour and a half late, not two hours. For the first time in her very short elementary school career, Fiona had to go to the office to get a late slip. She was totally mortified. Then I walked her to her classroom and as we tried to walk in, the whole class was leaving for lunch. She started to cry. She crawled behind the coats on the coat rack and starting screaming that she wasn't going to school today and she didn't want to be late and it was my fault and I was mean.

I told her that I'd walk her to the lunch room and help her get her lunch, but she couldn't pull it together and basically cried for the next half hour - through the lunch line, into the lunch room, trying to get her to sit down. Amelia took up the cause and started screaming too, mostly because she really wanted to eat Fiona's french fries I think. Either I'm not very good at talking Fiona down or she's just not talk-downable, because it finally came to me hissing threats of losing her Leapster privilege for her to finally get it back together enough to sit down and eat. I wish giving her a hug and a kiss and a pat on the back would work when she's like that but it doesn't.

Poor thing, she hates it when things like this happen. It is kind of reassuring to me though, that the worst possible thing in her world right now is getting a tardy slip at school. That's all she has to worry about. (Well, that and President Bush.)

Ex

2007-01-13T21:11:00.000-08:00

Table talk at dinner tonight turned to the subject of ex-boyfriends. Fiona looked confusedly at us for a while and asked, "What's an EX boyfriend? What does the ex mean?"

Andre and I explained that the "ex" part means that a person was something at one time and now they're not. "Like someone who used to be your teacher, but now they're not. They're your ex-teacher," Andre said.

"Like someone who used to be a president and now they're not. They would be an ex-president, " I said.

"Oh! I get it!" Fiona said, "Like someone who used to be a cat and now they're not! They're an ex-cat."

Yes, Fiona. Exactly like that.

Is there any such thing as a gerbil rat?

2007-01-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

It's so cold here that the wildlife is literally throwing itself against the windows to try to get inside. I was sitting down in the basement when I heard a thumping noise on the window. I pulled up the shade and right at eye level was some kind of creepy rodent trying to crawl up the screen. I immediately assumed he wanted to come in and eat my flesh and I might have screamed a little bit, but maybe he just wanted to get warm.

I thought it was a rat at first but as it stared me down through the window, I noticed its tail was covered with black fur. It was way too big to be a mouse and it looked more like one of the gerbils we used to have - the one that used to bite me all the time, little bastard. Anyhow, it was a gerbil the size of a rat. Does something like that exist in the wild? Is it some sort of genetically modified lab experiment escaped from the confines of its cruel cell and now on the lam? It probably is. It's probably going to be trying the doors and windows all day, looking for some weakness to exploit. I hope it doesn't get into my bed tonight and eat my face off.

Friday Night Lights

2007-01-04T13:57:00.000-08:00

In a feat of television gluttony, Andre and I managed to watch the entire first half of the season in three nights so we could be caught up for the newest episode last night. Tamara had recommended it earlier in the season and I totally ignored her, but I'm sorry I did now. Watch it. I promise you, it's not just about football. It's more about high school angst and small town politics than it is about the actual game. It kind of reminds me of my hometown. That is, if we had actually had a good football team.

George!

2007-01-03T21:04:00.000-08:00

Our good friend George entered his film, 9 Seconds, in a new reality-TV filmmaking competition called On the Lot, created by Mark Burnett and Steven Spielberg. George was in the USC graduate film program with Andre. So, when George put out the call for help with the shoot, Andre volunteered. George's wife Dana and I were film widows for a couple of weeks this summer, but that's OK. When Andre makes his next film, we'll call in the chit.

Here's George's film. Watch it, rate it, and help George get on the show!

New Year

2007-01-02T11:05:00.000-08:00

New start. I resolve to blog even when I'm afraid I'm being boring. Like right now! Resolutions, zzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Busted!

2006-12-04T16:40:00.000-08:00

Andre's mother is a saver. She likes to bring us clothing items from Andre's childhood to see if Amelia and Fiona might want to wear them now. Generally the answer is no, I don't often make the children wear boy clothes from the seventies.

Sometimes she brings us other items from Andre's childhood. This last visit, she brought Andre two small pillows that he had made in grade school home-ec. "Do you remember these, Andre?" she asked. "Of course! Those were my letter pillows I made. I think I was trying to spell my name, wasn't I? This one looks like a D and this one is an N, right?" Andre replied.

"No, you weren't spelling your name, Andre, those were your D&D pillows from when you used to play Dungeons and Dragons."

I learned so many things about my husband in that one small exchange.
A) He can in fact sew and his pretended ignorance in the area of button sewing is just a clever ploy to try to get me to fix his shirts.
B) Andre played Dungeons and Dragons.
C) A lot.
D) Andre is in fact a giant nerd.
E) But that's OK, because I think it's pretty cute that he made D&D pillows.

I'm putting them in the keepsake trunk so he can hand them down to the girls one special day. Maybe after he introduces them to twelve sided dice and a world of mighty warriors, stealthy rogues, and powerful wizards.

Na Na Bleh Blo Mama

2006-11-29T12:10:00.000-08:00

I didn't ever dare type it, afraid of jinxing it, but Amelia was sleeping through the night. WAS. For the past week or so, she's been waking up again at least once. I am so useless in the early morning hours. It takes me a long time to shake the fog of whatever dream I was having and accept the fact that I'm going to be up for awhile. Sometimes I just lay down in Amelia's room and try patting her head through the slats of her crib to see if I can somehow sleep and pat at the same time without her starting to scream again.

Last night, I stumbled into her room at about 3:15 and dazedly started to rub her back to quiet her down. I had been having some sort of Aesopian fable of a dream that involved spice mills, cranberries, and Thanksgiving turkey and I'm pretty sure that at one point I told Amelia, "Shhh, no crying or the turkey will think we've stolen the cinnamon!" Seriously. I really said that.

She tried crawling around in her crib for awhile, turning completely around at one point and telling me very seriously, "Na Na. Bleh-blo Mama!" I am not fully fluent in Amelia-speak, especially not in the wee hours. I understood the "Na Na" to be "night night" and the Mama part, but could not for the life of me figure out what "Bleh Blo" meant. I tried giving her the stuffed lamb, thinking maybe she was trying to say Baa Baa, but when she stood up in her crib and expressed her rage with a screaming tap dance, I knew that wasn't right.

She finally went to sleep after about an hour, without the bleh blo. I only realized this morning that she probably wanted her pillow moved to the other end of the crib. An hour of sleep lost due to a mistranslation.

I really hope this phase is short lived. I really wanted to find out what happened with that turkey and the cinnamon.

check!

2006-11-14T16:59:00.000-08:00

I stole this from Lisa who borrowed it from someone else who borrowed it from someone else. Behold, the power of the internet! Giving idea-less bloggers an easy entry. We all know that the real appeal of these lists isn't to find out what I've done, but to answer the questions for yourself. Feel free to post the list on your own site and make it official.

A list of life adventures, I bolded everything I've done:

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise (I think it's a little pathetic that I've never been able to stay up all night long.)
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game (I've been to a couple of pro basketball and baseball games. Can't say they were that much fun.)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa.
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars (When I first read this I thought it said stairs and I almost replied, "No, but I've peed under them.")
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne (Hence the peeing under stairs.)
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer (I don't know about this one. It's entirely possible we do right now and I'm just blissfully ignorant.)
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk.
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe.
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs (It didn't take long, I think I had about 11.)
57. Pretended to be a superhero (I used to have Wonder Woman underoos.)
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured an ancient site
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played Dungeons & Dragons for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music (OK, it was in a booth at 6 Flags. That counts, right?)
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently well enough to have a decent conversation
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions (Thus far.)
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident(Well, fender bender. )
150. Saved someone’s life
151. Finished a marathon

It's not easy being Green

2006-11-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

We've been limping along for the last couple of years with our hand-me-down cars from our parents. Both Andre's parents and my dad were incredibly generous in giving us cars to get us through the belt-tightening years when the money was pretty tight. In an unfortunate confluence of events, the cars (both with over 130,000 miles on them) had gotten to the point that they were in need of seeeeeerious repair. So, we bit the bullet, traded them both in, and bought a hybrid for Andre to drive to work.

He's been reading some of the forums populated by other hybrid owners and I've come to the stunning conclusion that hybrid owners are not Green, they're Dorks. The forums are populated by men who are all trying to best one another by getting the best overall gas mileage and best gas mileage for a particular trip. The dash of the car has a MPG display that tells you exactly how many miles to the gallon you're getting second by second, and over all MPG on the odometer and also on the tripometer.

I just know these people aren't watching the road, they're watching their displays while driving. They're experimenting with things like drafting off trucks on the freeway and shifting into neutral while coasting. One guy reported that he did things like turning off the car completely to coast down a hill. My illusion of peace loving hippies doing their part for a healthier tomorrow was completely shot. Driving has become a video game being played by total maniacs.

Andre swears he's not going to worry about his MPG. Yet. I know him. He's a gamer and I just know that little display is going to be very tempting. Please pray for the other drivers on the road.

Vote!

2006-11-07T11:41:00.000-08:00

Please.

Here's a little video I found on a couple of different blogs today. Sing along and then go vote.

Help the music impaired get fit!

2006-10-25T12:05:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I have a music disability. You all helped me so kindly the last time I asked for suggestions that I thought I'd hit you up again.

I started a running program a few weeks ago and have been taking it pretty slowly and not really enjoying it all that much. The first week I was pretty sure my heart was going to explode, after that I felt better, but wasn't really feeling the love if you know what I mean. Today though, I kicked my run's ass! I even added an additional running segment at the end and kicked that part in the ass too! Exclamation point! The difference? I brought my iPod along today and had the 80s mix in my ear. Whip It indeed, Devo.

So music it is, but I need a better mix. What are your favorite songs to run to? I only need about 10-15 songs since my run/walk is 25 minutes. (Tamara, I already know you're thinking Eye of the Tiger.)

The art of declining gracefully

2006-10-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

I suck at this.

A friendly mom with a daughter Amelia's age approached me at Fiona's school and asked if I'd be interested in joining the mom's group that she participates in. "Sure!" I said, "That sounds nice." I had heard good things about the local PEPS group programs and had always been too lazy to look one up when I was home with Fiona when she was a baby, so it was nice to have an actual invitation to the group and a friendly face I could seek out. Except, this was not a PEPS meeting, this was a similarly-named-but-definitely-not-PEPS meeting. I seem to have been a little confused about which moms group was which. They have the same concept, but see if you can catch the subtle difference in their mission statements:

PEPS - PEPS' mission is to provide community-based programs that enable parents of infants and young children to meet the challenges of parenting through mutual support and shared information.
NOT PEPS - We’re here to encourage, equip, and develop you as a mother of a preschooler to realize you’re [sic] potential as a woman, mother and leader in the name of Jesus Christ.

I'm sure that there are plenty of very lovely women who attend this group and that, if I continued to attend, I would certainly make some friends. I am just really uncomfortable with any group that wants to develop me as a woman in the name of Jesus Christ. I don't want to offend anyone who enjoys this group (which is why I didn't put the name in the post), it's just that as a non-churchgoer, it's not for me.

I'm so bad at declining gracefully that I almost want to just keep going and just fake it when the topic turns to being a Christian mom. I don't think it would be fair to the women who enjoy the group and find support there for me to be there thinking snide thoughts when the topic turned to things I don't agree with.

I need to just say, "Thank you so much for the invitation. I appreciate you thinking of me, but I just don't think that the group is going to be a good fit for me. How about we schedule a play date and get the kids together some time after school?" That would be nice, right? Why is it so hard to be honest and nice? I think my honest and nice skills might be broken.

Suburban gymnastics

2006-10-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

Fiona likes gymnastics. I enrolled her in a gymnastics camp at the community center this summer and she had a great time, so I found out what gym had provided the instructors and signed her up for lessons there. She loooves it. Me, not so much. This isn't just "having fun" gymnastics, this is a "serious school for the sport of gymnastics" kind of place. An Olympian was trained there.

I inadvertently signed Fiona up for the session that is taught by the owner of the gym and thus, I signed myself up for dealing with psycho sports parents. The kind that have had their kids in gymnastics since they were 18 months old and drive miles and miles out of their way to put their four year old into "the best training facility in the state."

The parent that irritates me the most is French Dad. He is not only a psycho sports parent, he is a psycho sports parent who only speaks French when his child is around. I know he was born here and speaks English as his first language, because I have had a short awkward conversation with him , but now whenever he sees me he says, "Bon Jour!" Dude! I get it! You're Cool-Bilingual-Dad-Who-Is-Teaching-His-Child-French! You don't need to bon jour me, buddy. I already know how fabulous you are with your hothouse children. I'm not sure exactly why he irritates me so much. Maybe because he was all weird and competitive when I told him that this was Fiona's first year in gymnastics. Maybe because I hate the French.

I'll have the last laugh though when Fiona triumphs over the adversity of not starting lessons until she was five and wins not only the gold but a multi-million dollar movie deal about how hard it was to be the only non-French speaking child in gymnastics. We'll see who's crying then, won't we, French Dad!

Sleep deprived

2006-10-09T09:56:00.000-07:00

It's been about two years since I've had a completely uninterrupted night's sleep. Amelia made it her mission almost from conception to get me up at least once during the night, either to puke or pee. After she was born, she'd wake up herself, and me, every hour and a half. She gradually improved, but for the past several months she'd still wake up at 11:30, 2:30, 5:30 and then finally at 7:30.

I've been working really hard to get her to sleep all night in her crib for the past couple of weeks. She's slowly cutting down to waking up just once during the night, usually around 4:30 (when she wants to get up and play and talk about uh oh and ball and Nanna and Shasta and Dada). Saturday was THE NIGHT. I heard her cry at about 1:30 and got out of bed ready to try to get her back to sleep before she wound herself up, but then, miracle of miracles, she stopped crying. She slept through the night! Finally!

Fantastic, right? I must have gotten such a good night's sleep! Wrong. Fiona woke up screaming for the first time in a year. Not once but twice.

God hates me.

Dear Internet,

2006-09-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

I've been avoiding you. This situation is not unlike the time I had a penpal in the fourth grade. Somehow I got hooked into one of those postcard pyramid schemes that involved sending out short missives to the name at the top of the list and then saddling your friends with the same responsibility. I became penpals with one of the postcard senders or sendees, I can't remember which, and it lasted a really long time. Probably at least two letters. Then I procrastinated writing back and as the time got longer and longer and the "write-about-able" events piled up ever more ominously, I just never was able to make myself do it. Poor Jeremy in Utah probably still thinks about me and cries, wondering what he ever said that made me not write back. At least, I think his name was Jeremy.

To recap the past month. I survived my trip to Minnesota and North Dakota, but just barely. A week and a half later my grandmother passed away and I flew back to Minnesota with Amelia to go to her funeral. Meanwhile, Fiona started kindergarten. She's loving it and tells me repeatedly that her favorite subject at school is lunch. She also informed me yesterday that she and her friends are going to be in a rock band when they get older. "Dee is going to be the singer and I'm going to be the drummer and Luke is going to be in the show in a monster truck." Awesome.

Amelia caught a cold from either the kindergarten germs brought home by her sister or from the airplane. She's sleeping even worse than ever due to the copious amounts of snot streaming from her nose. On the bright side, it's been nice to hear all her new words she's coming up with, it just would be even nicer if it weren't at 3:00 am. A scene from our bedroom last night:

As Andre tries to pretend he's asleep, Tavia tries to wrestle Amelia into submission.
Amelia: Dada! Ball! Uh oh! Uh oh! Uh oh! Shasta! Pants quietly like Shasta the dog.
Tavia: Amelia, put your head down and go night night.
Amelia: Night night! Night Night! Uh oh! Uh oh! Ball!
Andre: Fakes snoring
Amelia: Meow! Uh oh! Ball!
A train whistles in the distance
Amelia: Choo choo! Choo choo! Choo Choo! Uh oh! Uh oh! Uh oh! Choo Choo!
Andre: Fake snoring stops. I didn't know she knew choo choo!

That's all I've got.

Call me crazy

2006-08-15T09:07:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while. Sorry. Summertime, man.

I'm leaving for a "vacation" tomorrow that is becoming more ambitious in scope by the minute. I'm flying back to the land of my forefathers with the girls. By myself. No Andre. Then I'm driving the girls 400 miles. By myself. No Andre. I'll be gone for eight days and in that span of time I have visits scheduled with my cousin and his wife, my aunt and uncle, both my grandmothers, my dad, his cousin, three friends from college, and an online friend. Oh and I'll have to put on a bathing suit for two of those meetings. A bathing suit. Shoot me now.

The last time I flew to visit my grandmother, it was a month after 9/11 and we were in high security mode too. Fiona was two months old and I was chosen to get patted down at the gate and since I had Fiona in a sling, she got patted down too. Maybe they sensed her earliest feelings about The Man.

Now we're flying to grandma's under an orange alert. I can't be sure, but I think that this might indicate that my grandmother is in some way connected to al-Qaeda. You really have to watch the old Norwegians. They're tricky like that.

Anyhow, please cross your fingers for me that I survive 800 miles roundtrip in the car and seven total hours in the plane with the girls. By myself. No Andre.

A mystery

2006-08-03T10:48:00.000-07:00

OK, perhaps "mystery" is overstating it, but this puzzles me every time I drive by it and I'm hoping someone else can figure it out for me. Someone in our neighborhood took the time to spraypaint a relatively busy street with the words, "BUSH IS A" ... something. I can't figure out the last word. Here it is:

Bush is a KO? Bush is a HO? Bush is a XO? Bush is A-OK, but they got a little dyslexic? Did they get stopped half way through the word and not finish? Like "Bush is a KOOL kid?" I mean, none of them really make sense. Bush is a KO? What would that mean? Bush is a knockout? I think lots of things about Bush, but not that he's a ho or a ko. Or an XO.

Please help me so I don't have to slow down every time I pass this anymore.

2006-07-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast. Gorgeous.

2006-07-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

Isn't this a serene picture? Father and daughter walk along the beach in the golden sunset. So beautiful. So peaceful.

In actuality, this was Andre trying to catch Amelia before she ran headlong into the waves like a lemming. She did that over and over again, proving once and for all that she really isn't very bright.

Blogging from the beach

2006-07-26T21:02:00.000-07:00

We're on vacation, but I had to share two short snippets from our road trip:

Scene the first, entitled "How I Know My Husband Watched Too Much Television in the 70s:"
As we drive by a tsunami warning sign...
Andre: Look at the tsunami sign!
Me: Yeah, it's kind of freaking me out.
A: Hah! They spelled "hazard" wrong.
Me: Dumbfounded look.
A: Oh. Right. I was thinking about Hazzard County.

Scene the second, entitled "How I Know My Child Eats Too Much Junk Food:"
As Fiona colors in her fancy new coloring book...
Fiona: Mommy what is this guy called?
Me: You mean what kind of animal is he?
F: Yeah, what kind of animal is he?
Me: I think that's a cheetah, buddy.
F: No Mommy, it's called a CheeTOH. I'm going to color him orange, because Cheetohs are supposed to be orange.

Sooooo hot.

2006-07-18T11:41:00.000-07:00

Just kidding. I know all of the rest of you are hot, but it's only going to be in the high 70s here today. La la la! Ahhhhh, brisk breeze coming in the window...

Sorry that was mean.

Lazy

2006-07-13T13:08:00.000-07:00

My intensive summer training as a child taught me that summers were meant to be spent in pajamas, in front of the TV, eating ice cream, and avoiding the searing Arizona summer heat. Making plans and going outside and having playdates and getting dressed all seem so much more difficult in the summer.

Now I have children who get boooooooored during the day and want to dooooooo something and "What are we going to do today, Mommy?" and "Can we go to the beach and look for starfish, Mommy?" and "I think it's a good day to go to the library, Mommy!" and "Mommy, I'm glad George Bush lives far away from here."

Anyhow, sorry for the lack of posting. I'm busy looking for starfish.

Update:
Doesn't she look thrilled? Give the child a starfish and all you get back is attitude. Pajamas, ice cream, and television is sounding better by the minute.

Fact

2006-06-21T11:07:00.000-07:00

If you allow your baby to eat her sister's Oreo cookies with a generous helping of sand mixed in, her diaper the next morning will be filled with poop that is BLACK. Oreo cookie black. No lie.

Amelia is willing to share her cookie with you if you'd like to try this little experiment at home. Sand thrown in free of charge.

Bested by a baby

2006-06-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

Point! Love! Match! Set! or is it Love! Match! Set! Game! Whatever. Tennis is a boring sport anyhow. The point being, the baby has won this round. We started off the "getting Amelia to sleep all night in her crib" experiment with her only getting up a few times during the night and not struggling too much in getting put back to sleep in her crib. Instead of getting better and easier each night, she got worse and worse until on Saturday night she (and we) slept for about 4 hours. And not all at once.

The hardcore sleep deprivation experiment resulted in Andre nearly dragging me to my death in the minivan as he "got confused" when we were loading the car after dim sum and started to drive off while I was half in the back door buckling Amelia in. Then he nearly rear-ended a whole line of cars when we tried to get on the freeway. I didn't come close to accidently killing anyone, but I was extremely testy and snapped at everyone who got close to me.

So, last night, when Amelia woke up for the second time at 11:30, I blearily threw in the towel at the whole damn project and brought her into bed with me. She snuggled in, nursed a while, then went easily to sleep. I'm not going to lie, it still wasn't a fabulous night's sleep, but at least I got about six or seven hours of sleeping in. She didn't wake up to play Professional Wrestling until almost 6:45.

I don't really know how to proceed after this. I guess I'll try getting her back to sleep in her crib after her usual 11:30 pm wakeup and then when/if she wakes up after that, bring her into bed. I don't want to risk any more lives doing it the other way.

Co-Notsleeping

2006-06-13T10:26:00.000-07:00

Not really by concious choice, I became an "attachment parent" when Fiona was born. Our parenting choices were pretty much based on these criteria: What will make her scream the least? And do we have to wash a lot of bottles? We became co-sleepers because it was the only way we got any rest. In the crib? Hollering all night long. In our bed? All snuggled up and would sleep as long as we did.

Amelia started off a good co-sleeper. Now however, she is not. Most definitely absolutely positively completely NOT a good co-sleeper. For the past couple of months, she has been waking up for an hour or so at night and wanting to play. In bed. At three in the morning. So our nights go something like this.

Rustle, rustle, rustle. Amelia is standing up in the middle of the bed checking to see who will break first and actually look at her.
Andre groans.
Amelia shrieks a joyful "Haaaaah!" and performs a professional wrestling move to his face. Andre shrieks in pain.
I try making her lay down and nurse and she does, for a minute or two. Then starts crawling around the bed, laughing maniacally.
Andre tries holding her down and shushing her which serves only to piss her off and make her scream loudly in my ear.
Andre gives up and I take another turn trying to get her resettled. She nurses a little and latches on, latches off, latches on, latches off, bites, laughs, shakes head no, waves all done, blows raspberries, until I get irritated and let her crawl around again for awhile. Hoping somehow she'll just get so tired of crawling that she'll just fall back to sleep instantaneously.
Hours pass.
The neighbor's sprinklers come on.
Amelia stares at the blue light from the clock in fascination. Waves hello at the pretty light. Says,"Haaaaaaaaah!" loudly to her new friend the blue light.
Amelia tries laying her head down on my pillow, then Andre's pillow. Then my stomach, then Andre's chest. Then in the middle of the bed, then at the foot of the bed.
Dawn.
Amelia falls back asleep.
Time to get up!

Time to try something new. I'm not getting any sleep anyway, so I guess it's time to try getting her to stay in her crib all night. I'll just have to bite the bullet and do a little night work in her room until she's a nightime crib sleeper. She's usually there until midnight anyway, so six or seven more hours should be easy-peasy, right? Right? RIGHT?!

Twelve Month Amelia

2006-06-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been a year already. People say things like that all the time, but I really mean it. It feels like it was just a couple of weeks ago that we brought that little wiggle-worm home. It can't possibly have been a whole year.

On to the stats:

Height - 70th percentile
Weight - 20th percentile (Eat child, eat!)
Smarts - Gajillionth percentile (Not biased, I assure you)
Teeth - Seven
Words - Not really sure on this one. Sometimes I'm positive she's saying the right word, like she'll say "Dadadada!" when she sees Andre and I think, "Oh great! She's finally saying Daddy!" and then she'll wander off and start saying "Dadadadada!" as she looks for small toys to eat. She definitely understands commands and even obeys them occasionally. So basically the language skills of a small dog maybe.
Highest fever achieved - 104.9. And just under the wire too, this was on Sunday night.
Physical abilities: Walks, runs, climbs up stairs, climbs onto furniture, climbs into bathtub, tries to climb up the front of people when wants to get picked up, dances, does a wierd duck walk at times that looks like it uses plenty of thigh muscle abilites, prefers running around to cuddling.
Favorite food: Anything on the floor.
Favorite animal: Both of the cats, but mostly Ellis because he lets her touch him once in a while.
Favorite toy: Whatever Fiona is playing with.
Favorite activity: Throwing all her food off her high chair and then hunting down any stray leftovers to eat off the floor later.
Future aspirations: Her current skill set indicates that she would be good at either street sweeping or working as a mime specializing in duck imitations.

Happy birthday Amelia, I love you. You great big toddler, you.

Quarantine

2006-06-05T12:04:00.000-07:00

Andre's brother and sister in law are visiting with their two kids. Quite literally the second they came through the door, Amelia came down with a fever. I'm not exaggerating here. They walked in the door around midnight Friday night, we got them squared away in bed, Amelia started crying and had a temperature of 102. This is the first time she's ever run a fever and of course it had to be when we have guests.

Yesterday one of the nieces started to feel crummy. I was impressed that she could have caught Amelia's illness in a mere 24 hours, but no! It's something completely different! She most likely has hand, foot, and mouth disease. It's generally not a huge deal, but it's really contagious. So in 3 to 7 days, the rest of the kids should have it too, perhaps with a side of whatever Amelia has.

I'd try to stay as far away from this house as possible if I were you.

Nothing cuter

2006-06-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

Amelia is determined to figure out a way to pick up light. She has some fancy new sandals that light up and she keeps trying to catch the glow in her fingers and pick it up. Probably to eat, but she hasn't gotten it close enough to her mouth yet to tell. I'll let you know if she's ever successful.

Mommy?

2006-05-30T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'm really not sure how I live through the day. Like today, for example. Amelia woke up at 4:10 am this morning and was up until 6:15. Then she went back to sleep for 45 minutes before getting up for the day. I did not go back to sleep for 45 minutes before getting up for the day. Hence, I am grumpy.

Add grumpy to morning-Fiona and the picture is quite bleak. Fiona's habit lately is to say "Mommy?" before every single sentence she utters. Frequently our conversations go something like this:

Fiona: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
F: Uhhhhhh....uhhhhhhh......Mommy?
M: Yes?
Fiona: I want to tell you something.
M: What is it?
Fiona: Uhhhhhh.....uhhhhhhh.....Mommy?
M: Head pops off.

I tried to get her to imitate herself on camera the other day and the hilarious (and frightening) part is when she goes from pretending to really whining within the space of about 20 seconds.

Warning: This video is an effective form of birth control.

I'm excited

2006-05-26T13:34:00.000-07:00

After much debate (and I'm not exaggerating here, we've gone back and forth on this for weeks) we've decided we just can't do a camping trip this year. Amelia is just too much work to have a relaxing camping experience. It would go something like this. Arrive. Set up camp. Amelia eats dirt. Amelia eats rocks. Amelia falls over and cracks open head. Fiona gets angry that tent is not set up yet so she can play house. Set tent up. Amelia crawls through tent and attempts to eat sleeping bag. Light campfire. Amelia falls into fire in an attempt to eat fire. Fiona angry that we can't roast marshmallows since we have to rush Amelia to the emergency room. Camping trip a failure.

So we've gone the opposite route and we're going to stay in a nice hotel. It has a separate bedroom so various children can be put to sleep without us having to all turn off the lights and a kitchen so we can eat some meals without having to deal with Amelia throwing food at other diners. We're going here. Some of you better-cultured readers may recognize this location because it played a prominent role in one of the best movies of my generation, The Goonies. Yes, this is where young Mikey lined up the rocks on the medallion to discover the location of the start of One-Eyed Willy's tunnel.

I can't wait to holler at Andre, "Andy! You Goonie!" He will be confused about why I'm calling him Andy, but it must be done and done right.

2006-05-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

Who gave you permission to grow up?

Family Friendly

2006-05-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

One of our neighborhood grocery stores is now advertising its "family friendly" checkout aisle. In the family friendly aisle, all the naughty and filthy magazines are removed from sight of the young people. Now your child doesn't have to gaze on the pitifully bloated and increasingly desperate face of Britney Spears as you go through the checkout line. No more covers of Jessica Simpson to provide fuel to whatever early fantasy life your son may be developing. Your child will never have to learn that space aliens have already set the apocalypse in motion by raising Elvis from the dead.

Those geniuses at Kroger have made shopping so much easier for families by replacing all that rack space with, can you guess? Candy. Racks and racks and racks of candy. It's hard enough to get Fiona past the gum and the Tic Tacs without also having to steer her away from chocolate bars as high as the eye can see. On our first accidental trip through the "family friendly" aisle, enormous mountains of chocolate towered above her and the whining and pleading started the second I started unloading groceries.

I've got news for you Kroger. There are gallons more children's tears shed over chocolate than there are over magazine covers hawking celebrity gossip. I think that you should rename it the "Puritan Aisle" or the "Aisle for People Who Really Don't Want to Look at Angelina Jolie One More Minute" but calling it "family friendly" just makes me want to think very disdainful thoughts about you. And George Bush, because I'm sure somehow he must be behind this.

Ham with a side of apocalypse

2006-05-21T14:05:00.000-07:00

I was cracking eggs for french toast this morning and one of the eggs had a mutant conjoined-twin yolk. At first I thought it was cool, one of those flukes of nature that take us by surprise from time to time. But then, the very next egg I cracked? Filled with blood!* If that's not some sort of creepy harbinger of the end times, I don't know what is. Naturally Nested, all right. Naturally Nested in hell!

*OK, perhaps "filled with blood" is overstating it. "Tinged with blood" may be more accurate. Yet less dramatically fulfilling, don't you think?

Retirement planning is hard

2006-05-19T12:22:00.000-07:00

I keep getting notices from my previous place of employment, telling me that I have a teeny tiny amount of money in their 401k program and the tininess of it is bothersome to them and will I please remove it from their sight at once. So, I called up my guys (they take of my car insurance and home insurance and my credit card debt and the IRA) to ask them to take me by the hand and free my money from The Man. (My guys are not The Man, they were nice to me when some jerk broke my window and stole my wallet so I refuse to think of them as The Man.) Turns out I have a Roth IRA and not a traditional IRA so I can't roll money into it from a 401K. Why is this? I don't know. So after filling out various forms and deciding on very grown up things like what funds to place my teeny tiny amount of money in, I was done. The form was emailed to me instantly and I sent it back in while we were still on the phone. My very friendly guy reminded me that I need to start thinking about college planning too, he wasn't mean about it though. Gosh, I like those guys.

Then I called The Man. Instead of talking to a person, I got a phone tree. I pressed all the right buttons and then it asked me for my PIN number. PIN number? I don't recall ever establishing a PIN number. I tried punching in one of my usual ones. Nope. Another old standby. Nope. Finally the phone tree became exasperated with me and put me on hold to speak with a person. After a lengthy delay, during which I was reminded that I could be doing all this online with my PIN number, I finally spoke with a very surly woman who sounded quite astonished that I didn't remember my PIN number. "But I'm looking at it right here! You went online and established a PIN number. It's eight digits long. Does that ring any bells? You didn't write it down? You chose it for yourself! It says right here that you did this in 2004." Lady, that was two years ago. I don't even remember what I had for dinner on Monday night let alone an eight digit pin number I alledgedly established for myself two years ago. I don't really believe I did it. I always use variations of the same passwords and none of them is eight digits long. With a big long sigh, she told me she could mail me my password and then I could call her back and have my form mailed to me. Why couldn't she just mail me the form if she was all set to mail a pin number to the very same address? It's just a form, it's not like she was going to mail me a check. Apparently, the procedures are very strict and important to follow. First we mail the pin number, then we mail the form. There is no room for step skipping here.

Some day when I spend all this retirement money on something fabulous like one trip to the grocery store or a couple nights at a Hampton Inn, I going to remind myself that all this trouble was worth it. Soooo worth it.

Technical Difficulties

2006-05-12T10:06:00.000-07:00

I was trying to be all independent and change up my blog by myself, which I think I mostly accomplished quite handily. I can't quite figure out how to fix the header though. I'm afraid I'm going to break the whole thing if I play with it anymore so just ignore it until Andre gets home.

2006-05-11T15:43:00.000-07:00

NO IMAGES by Waring Cuney

She does not know
Her beauty,
She thinks her brown body
Has no glory.
If she could dance
Naked
Under palm trees
And see her image in the river,
She would know.

But there are no palm trees
On the street,
And dish water gives back no images.

Mom took me to see Maya Angelou speak last night and this was the poem she opened with. I loved it despite my zero tolerance policy for poetry. I guess it's a good thing. It'd be pretty shameful to admit that even Maya Angelou couldn't make me appreciate a poem or two.

The only thing I didn't like about her performance last night was the woman sitting behind me. I think she thought the proper thing to do at the reading would be to behave as if she were in an AME church, telling it back to the preacher. First off, she was an annoying white lady. Secondly, she was bothering me. Thirdly, shut the hell up! "OH YES!" she kept saying. "OH YES! Her inaugural poem. OH YES! I hope she reads that!" she kept yelling in my ear.

Other than that, I loved it. Thanks for the wonderful birthday present Mom!

What's grosser than gross?

2006-05-02T10:07:00.000-07:00

Remember that old joke from grade school? I don't really remember how it went, just that one line of it, "What's grosser than gross?" Once you have kids you get the home game version of What's Grosser than Gross, free of charge, delivered directly to your home, no need to pay shipping and handling. For example...

Scene: Fiona's bedroom. Fiona and I are reading bedtime stories and getting ready to turn off the lights when I notice something dark and spotty on the wall.

Me: Fiona, what's that on your wall?
Fiona: Boogers.
Me: Boogers! Why are they on your wall?
Fiona: Because I didn't have any kleenex!
Me: Well, please don't pick your nose if you don't have something to put the boogers on.
Fiona: OK Mommy. Look they flick right off the wall! You try it Mommy.
Me: No thanks, buddy. I don't want to touch your gross boogers.
Fiona: Boogers aren't gross Mommy. They're TASTY!

Sigh....

Hark! What's this?

2006-04-28T15:38:00.000-07:00

What's that? What's that you say? Oh, you say, "You suck!" Yes, my friends. Yes, I know. I know I suck. I feel like the well ran dry there for awhile. I physically couldn't type anything at all. I wrote about my alarm clock and it must have bored even me so badly that I broke my writing bone. I would sit in front of the computer and bring up a new post and the only things that would come to mind would be inane stuff like how much I wish we had a dog for the sole purpose of cleaning up under Amelia's highchair. Man that kid is a messy eater and I hate sweeping and mopping.

But I digress. Since my fallow period began, several very important things have happened:

A. I applied for a job. I didn't want to go back to work quite yet, but this is a job in my field and I'd really love to actually use that expensive degree of mine. If I don't get it, well that's all good too, then I don't have any regrets about not applying and Amelia gets to stay home a little longer. So either way, I'm happy. But cross your fingers for me anyhow, OK?

B. That's really the only thing I can think of.

C. See how much you missed? Nothing.

D. Here's an old picture from Easter to get you off my back.

The power of shame

2006-04-13T13:07:00.000-07:00

Apparently electronics have feelings. All it took was a good public shaming to get my clock back into shape. After my post yesterday, I decided to give it one more shot and plugged it back in. It started flashing obedient little twelves at me and allowed me to reset it. (Andre warned me that it would probably cause a fire, but I'm not sure how that would happen. The clock shooting angry retaliatory lasers perhaps?) Anyhow, I'm now back on track to try to beat Andre at the clock-keeping competition he seems to think we're involved in. I wasn't even aware of it before this incident, but now that I know I'm totally going to win.

Just in case the clock does rise up and rebel over my mistreatment, Andre purchased this book and I plan to commit it to memory.

L:30

2006-04-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

That's what time it is on my bedside clock. L thirty. It's permanently L thirty now because I seem to have spilled a giant glass of water on it. I've done this in the past to other clocks and quickly unplugged them and let them dry out for a few days and then plugged them back in and they started working again. Apparently these new fangled clocks are weaker than that and can't stand a little water dumped in their innards.

You'll all be pleased to know that Andre had his last clock for 18 years and only had to get rid of it when it stopped because it had apparently reached the end of it's natural life expectancy. I, on the other hand, have gone through maybe 3 clocks in as many years. I know that you all are feeling the shame that I must be feeling right now. It's a hard, cold feeling to know you have been outclocked by your spouse.

Spring Break

2006-04-11T10:10:00.000-07:00

I've been missing in action for the past week and a half because of the damned school's insistence on having a spring break. They're pre-schoolers for cry-eye. They go to school a grand total of seven and a half hours each week. I don't exactly see their little fingers getting calloused and their backs becoming hunched from the strain. Perhaps it's the teachers that need a break you might be thinking to yourself. To which I say, Bah! And nothing else because I don't really have a retort for that.

I think I did a little jig when I dropped Fiona off this morning. A very small one, but I'm pretty sure it was a jig. A break from the child who must be the absolute center of everyone's attention at all times is blessed, blessed relief. I mean, I love her and adore her and she is the best and most fabulous four and a half year old ever invented, but even I have a breaking point. We did have a fun week though, we spent time on the beach, we went to the zoo, we visited my mom at her work, we played outside. We even had sunshine for most of it. If we hadn't, I would have known that Satan does indeed walk the earth.

Now let's talk about how adorably cute Amelia is. She has a fondness for carrying our DVD cases around the family room. It drives Andre up a wall, but until we find a cabinet with doors, it's pretty much a given that it's going to happen. Anyhow, she just toddled over carrying a DVD with a big grin on her face. She had the case cradled in one arm and she looked up at me and then gave the case a gentle baby kiss and started giggling. I looked at the case and it was Gone with the Wind. The front has Rhett Butler dipping Scarlet back and going in for a big smooch. Amelia wanted in on the action, I guess. We had a very nice time taking turns giving Rhett and Scarlet kisses after that. Man, I love this baby.

Safe!

2006-03-31T13:18:00.000-08:00

The pictures from the Great TV Computer Fry of 2006 are safe. Everything seems to be in working order except the motherboard which Andre had to replace. I have come to discover during the GTCF of 2006 that I really know nothing about computers despite being married to a computer geek and having been raised by a computer geek. As Andre was putting the computer back together and found the pictures were OK, I said with great relief, "Phew! So the memory didn't fry along with the motherboard?" He looked at me like I was a complete moron and said, "Uh, yeah, but the pictures aren't stored in the memory, they're stored on the hard drive." I shot back with a witty, "So why do they call it memory then, huh? Huh?" And he disdainfully began to try to explain what each part of a computer does. My eyes instantly glazed over, as they apparently have been doing ever since my dad started giving me the same lecture 20-odd years ago.

Truth be told, as long as I can talk to my computer friends with the magic box attached to the TV, I really don't want to know how it works. This body can only handle so much geekery. I will play Star Wars trivial pursuit, I will not retain the difference between memory and hard drive. I can't help it. Don't lecture me. And stop sighing with exasperation, you know you're doing it.

Meltdown.

2006-03-27T13:43:00.000-08:00

No, not Fiona. The TV computer*. I don't know what's wrong with it, but from Andre's various mutterings, I have gleaned that it is bad and various things must be purchased to make it run again. So, I am using the LWPCOISIPWIFBTBINLW (Laptop Whose Power Cord OnlyIntermittently Sends It Power Which Is Frustrating Because The Battery Is No Longer Working). I'm just crossing my fingers that the TV Computer's memory didn't fry along with the motherboard because ALL of Amelia's pictures are stored on there. Did we back up with a DVD? No, we did not. Why? Because we are stupid.

*The TV Computer is the one that's hooked up to our big TV in the playroom. I thought I was going to say something amusing about it down here in the footnote, but there's really nothing funny about it. Computers are serious business, people.

Feeling a little blue

2006-03-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

Not a navy blue or anything, just a little tinge of blue. Back when I first thought about quitting work to stay home with the girls, I envisioned our carefree days of having picnics in the park, trips to the zoo, the special treat of going to the ice cream shop, quiet days at home just snuggling and reading stories while we sipped hot cocoa as it rained outside.

I forgot to plan for things like the stomach flu. For days when one kid pukes in the high chair and while you're cleaning up that one, the other kid pukes on the couch. And then gets mad when you won't give her a tuna sandwich. For nights spent trying to get the baby to sleep only to woken back up again when the four year old pukes all over herself in bed.

I didn't envision a four year old who was still working on recovering from the flu to throw tantrums so violent that they scared me. I never thought I'd be the person who had to pull the car over because my kid had taken off her seatbelt in the car and was screaming in my ear and trying to pull my hair.

I didn't think I'd ever call my husband at work and ask pitifully when he was coming home because I was at my wit's end.

I'm OK. We're OK. Just a little bit blue.

The week in review

2006-03-07T10:39:00.000-08:00

I haven't been blogging much lately, I know, I'm sorry. My internet time has suffered in the past few weeks. Firstly, Amelia has decided that she is a mountain goat. I can't just put her down and let her crawl around the room randomly eating paper anymore. No, that was the easy phase. Now she'd decided to up her risk level and climb on top of the furniture to see if we're hiding paper from her on say, the back of the sofa, or the top of the shelves. If I leave her alone for a second to throw the laundry in the dryer (this makes me sound productive and multi-tasking) or say, check in on my blogroll (this makes me sound neglectful and lazy) she immediately trots over to Fiona's desk and climbs on top of it. The better to reach for the big, scary, dangerous and teetery shelves or the hot, hot, lamp of burnitude.

Secondly, I've been trying to do more reading. I was missing the days when I'd read a book every couple of days and needed to have a good big binge. In the past couple of weeks I've gone through a whole stack of my backlog. It was like when you take a warm loaf of homemade bread out of the oven and tear off big chunks that you can barely swallow before you're stuffing more in your mouth. Oh, you don't do that? Um, me neither.

So, here are some accumulated stories from the past week:

Fiona, as we all sat on the couch together, looked disdainfully at her sister and said, "If I was a baby right now, I would be a MUCH better baby than Amelia."

I tried to get Amelia into her car seat the other day and she bucked and fought and put up a big fuss. Oh, poor thing, she's tired, I thought, I'm sure she'll fall asleep any minute. Then she cried for what seemed like forever, only falling asleep when we were two minutes away from our destination. She woke up as soon as the car stopped and I bundled her inside. Only then did I notice the enormous, egg-shaped Weeble that Fiona had stuck inside her hood that had been pressing into her back the entire car ride. Yay, I'm such a good mother!

I went to the kindergarten open house at Fiona's soon-to-be school. I love it. It's such a nice, small neighborhood school. The classes were small, the kids were having a fantastic time while we were there and I loved both of the all-day kindergarten teachers. They had lots of parent helpers in the class today and it really makes me want to find something work-wise that would allow me to volunteer once in a while. I can't wait for Fiona to start, but then I get a little teary thinking about it. The supply list just about pushed me over the edge. Elmer's Glue! (For my KINDERGARTNER.) Box of Crayola Markers! (For my enormous public-school attending kindergartner.) One box Kleenex. (For the whole class of kindergartners to wipe their snotty little noses). One backpack. (To put on my great big, grown-up kindergartner.) I guess I still have six months to work myself up about it, I'll save some of the kindergarten angst for later.

Andre won the Oscar competition for, like, the millionth year in a row. I think he must be some sort of mutant whose only super power is the ability to predict the Oscars.

I guess that's it. Amelia's chewing on a power cord, so I guess my reprieve is over.

Fat Tuesday

2006-03-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

To help show New Orleans that we were thinking of them on their first post-Katrina Mardi Gras, we held a little celebration here at the house. As you can see, Amelia was more than willing to flash us for necklaces.

Note pigtails.

Code

2006-02-21T09:48:00.000-08:00

We went to a new Szechuan restaurant this weekend that my in-laws had scouted out earlier that week. The second we sat down, the waiter, with eyes wide open in mock surprise, said to my parents-in-law, "Oh! Your daughter in law is so . . . beautiful! Very!" I couldn't help but be flattered even though I knew that "beautiful" was really code for "white." Very white. So white that I couldn't possibly eat with chopsticks and was given a fork soon after sitting down.

For those of you who haven't seen my picture, it's pretty evident that my coloring comes from the Norwegian end of my gene pool. People take one look at me and assume that I dine solely on mild flavored casseroles and jello laden "salads" straight from the church potluck. It is certainly my culinary heritage, I admit. Grandma didn't exactly have any recipes calling for chilis in the old recipe box.

Even my in-laws, who have known me for seven years and eaten with me countless times, forget that I like spicy foods. My mother in law serves an Indonesian dish that calls for ten sliced red chilis which is a favorite of mine. And still, every single time I say we should order something spicy they are genuinely surprised, "Oh? Do you like spicy food? Are you sure you can eat it? Really?" Seven years, people! The whiteness is still startling to them, I think.

I guess I didn't really have a point other than to remind you all that prejudice is very, very wrong. Don't prejudge Whitey, man. I have mad chopstick skillz.

I feel like I should be sad, but I'm not.

2006-02-16T20:25:00.000-08:00

If things hadn't gone terribly, horribly wrong in the summer of 2004, I'd have a one year old today. And while I feel some occasional sorrow that I never got to meet that baby, that I'll never be able to watch that baby grow up, I feel incredibly lucky that I have a cat-chasing, hair-pulling, paper-eating, stair-climbing, pigtail-wearing, eight-month-old Amelia. I feel like I should feel at least a little mournful today. But then Amelia offers me a bite of the magazine that she's trying to devour and laughs and I really don't feel sad. And then I feel a little guilty for not feeling sad.

But where are all the bonbons?

2006-02-14T17:11:00.000-08:00

Amelia has decided that she's 14 years old and doesn't need to nap anymore. She's given up her morning nap and then fights and fights and fights her afternoon nap until she just can't hold out anymore and falls asleep the second I try to nurse her. If I put her in her crib, she sleeps for about half an hour and then is back up and ready to conquer the world. And eat lots of paper.

I think she might be addicted to paper actually, she will speed crawl across the room and cram it into her mouth if she spots any on the floor. Then she'll clamp her little jaws shut if I try to pry it out of her mouth and scream after I retrieve it. I think she might just be weird. Or a Cylon.

Between Fiona's intensive valentine production and paper strewing and Amelia's aggressive paper consumption, I think I might spend at least 80 to 90 percent of the average day picking up paper from the floor and removing it from Amelia's fists and mouth. I wouldn't be that worried about the paper, but I watch too much television and I learned on Grey's Anatomy that you can get mercury poisoning from eating a novel and I've applied that knowledge to my day to day parenting skills and now poor Amelia can't have any fun.

Anyhow, productive things like laundry folding and floor mopping and fun things like leisurely reading my email and blogging have become more difficult due to the paper wars. Oh and cat hair too! Amelia enjoys eating that as well.

I did have a few things I wanted to tell you though, I'd better get them off my chest while A takes her fifteen minute nap.

The Olympics: My favorite person from the Olympics thus far is the dude who stands in the start house with the skiers and tries to pump them up by shouting at them just like Hulk Hogan. Maybe it is Hulk Hogan! He always shouts both their first and last names, as if he doesn't know them very well and he's reading it off some sort of list, "You go Bode Miller! You ride that hill! Go Bode Miller!"

Valentine's Day: We had a terrible blizzard here yesterday and accumulated at least 3/4 of an inch of snow and Fiona's school was cancelled. She was one dejected kid as we walked away from school holding her little bag of Valentines. The party was rescheduled for today, if they can get the streets plowed in time. Three quarters of an inch is dangerous business, people.

Blog Land: There's been way too much upheaval lately with everyone running around and changing their addresses (I'm looking at you Tamara and Kristin) and coming back to blog land after extended absences (Hi Another Drink!) and changing all their templates and having crazy little blog wars and all kinds of nonsense. This is much too much for me to take. I have to go in to my bookmarks list now and change everything around and I don't have time for this. I have baby jaws to pry open and valentines to rescue.

Dick Cheney: I saw this link on Tosie Bonner's journal and had to repost it simply because the Janie's Got a Gun lyrics sound so much like Cheney's Got a Gun that it almost seems like Aerosmith had anticipated this very event. Aerosmith has ESP, you heard it here first.

Oscar Smackdown 2006!

2006-02-09T13:18:00.000-08:00

It is totally on this year. As you may remember from last year, my family's ongoing tradition is to ~~get beaten by Andre in our Oscar competition~~ celebrate the year's movies with a ~~bloodthirsty~~ friendly Oscar contest. Andre has won the past ~~million~~ few times and it's getting quite old. He needs to be stopped. I must win or at least see him be beaten. This is a difficult prospect since I haven't actually seen any of the movies that are nominated, but we're on relatively even footing there because he hasn't either. Family? Unite with me and bring down ~~the dark movie overlord~~ my husband. There WILL be a new winner crowned this year, I can just feel it.

Grey's Anatomy

2006-02-06T13:42:00.000-08:00

I was quite disappointed that my theory on the meaning of "Code Black" was proven false. Based on the preview, I was pretty sure that Code Black stood for Zombie Attack. Wouldn't that have been more interesting than the tired old "live ammunition in a body cavity" episode we've seen time and time again? I bet zombies would have put Meredith out of her misery pretty effectively. Unless she stops moping over stupid Patrick McDreamy on the double, I will continue to hope for zombies.

We call her "Seven"

2006-02-06T10:15:00.000-08:00

The Amelia walking video, remixed for all the dorks out there:

For all the normal people out there, this is a Battlestar Galactica reference. You really should give it a shot. Don't let the outer space thing and the robot thing keep you from enjoying a very good show. There's no stigma, really.

Scissors

2006-02-03T18:01:00.000-08:00

Back in the day one of my favorite teachers, Ms. M, used to tell us stories about her son. "Tell us a Brent story!" we'd say, hoping she'd let us procrastinate a little. Brent was a kid who got into so much mischief and was such a little character that she always had something new for us.

I remember one time she told us that she overheard him with the cat in the other room saying, "Come here kitty kitty, I want to cut your whiskers off." Thinking that he was just playing, she didn't investigate immediately. And then the cat came running out of the room, completely whiskerless.

Because of the the Brent stories, I was totally prepared today when Fiona came downstairs and said, "Mommy, do whiskers grow?" I knew. I knew that poor Ellis had been de-whiskered. "Why do you ask, Fiona? Is there something you need to tell me?"

"No," she said, "I'm just wondering if they grow."

"Tell me the truth. I'm going to know when Ellis comes down here anyway, did you cut off Ellis's whiskers?"

"Will you get mad at me if I tell you?"

"I'll tell you never to do that again since Ellis needs his whiskers."

"Well, maybe I cut off just a couple of his whiskers."

"A couple?"

"Well, maybe a few."

"Does Ellis have any whiskers left?"

Just then, Ellis came into the room, with 80% fewer whiskers than he had at the start of the day. Fiona looked at him and obviously felt bad. "I'm sorry Ellis. I didn't mean to cut your whiskers off."

If only I had a classroom, I would have the best Brent stories.

"She's not a baby, she's a toddler now!"

2006-02-02T20:48:00.000-08:00

According to Fiona, that is. Watch the video and judge for yourself.

Note from Andre: That's just my "talkin' to the baby" voice. My "normal" voice makes women weak and men weep. Uh, really!

Note from Tavia: Please don't listen to my goofy babytalk either.

#10 is my favorite

2006-01-31T14:15:00.000-08:00

Stolen from Professional Slacker who stole it from Rude Cactus. Ahh, the internet. Why bother thinking of new ideas? There are plenty of things out there to copy instead.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Tavia!

Tavia has enough fat to produce 32 bars of soap.
The canonical hours of the Christian church are matins, lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, Tavia and compline.
Tavia is the traditional gift for a couple on their third wedding anniversary!
While performing her duties as queen, Cleopatra sometimes dressed up as Tavia.
Every day in the UK, four people die putting Tavia on.
The Eskimos have over fifty words for Tavia.
Antarctica is the only continent without Tavia.
Tavia can turn her stomach inside out.
Tavia cannot burp - there is no gravity to separate liquid from gas in her stomach.
The condom - originally made from Tavia - was invented in the early 1500s!

I'm sad

2006-01-30T14:41:00.000-08:00

Haloscan made me sad today. I went back into my archives to read about the day that Amelia was born and saw that Haloscan has deleted all my comments. All of the sweet congratulations from all of my computer friends are gone now. Damn, I should have printed them all out.

I hate you Haloscan.

15 years ago, before the flying cars...

2006-01-27T09:30:00.000-08:00

I'm not coming up with anything exciting to post about from the homefront. Fiona did tell us that her career choices for the future are (picture her counting these off on her fingers): "Number one, doctor. Number two, rocket ship driver. Number three, grave-taker-carer-of-er." I thought it was pretty cute, but not quite enough to make a whole entry out of.

Anyhow, I was digging through some of the old letters I sent to my best friend when I first went off to college. (I have the letters because I intended on scanning them all from both of us and putting them in a scrapbook, so she gave them to me and the closest I got to completing this project was to put them in my sock drawer where they've been for the past five years.) I digress. One of the letters details how my freshman year boyfriend wants to take a break and think about our relationship and how quickly it's moving. Tragically, I don't take this as any sort of warning sign that he's just not that into me, but that's not the funny part. The amusing part is my description of email in the year 1991:

I told him if we weren't going to see each other, he would at least have to leave letters for me on the computer (it's really cool, I'll explain in a bit) and he said OK. I walked him to the stairs and kissed him good night [blather, blather about midterms, my Russian class, and my roommate] But anyhow let me tell you about the computers. You go to this computer store and get yourself this handy-dandy password - very hush, hush secretive type stuff and with that you can get into this system called UNIX. You can leave letters for other people in this system and they can come by and get it on any other computer on campus. It's really quite cool. Also you can talk to other people by just typing stuff in while they're logged in to the system. I know I sould like this really big computer geek and you're expecting me to turn into a blind, hunchbacked [name of biggest geek in our high school] type, but really, everyone here uses it and it's quite fun. OK, now that you think I'm a dork, let's move on to some other subject!

Wouldn't Past Tavia be surprised by Future Tavia? Poor little Past Tavia, who lived before www dot anything and didn't know the term "e-mail." Little did she know that she'd eventually marry someone she met on "the computers."

So damn proud of those boys

2006-01-22T23:23:00.000-08:00

The Seahawks are Superbowl bound and I am just overjoyed. Those guys have worked their tails off this year. Andre and I have been sitting here in our 12th man gear just cheering them on all day. Woohoooo! Superbowl baby!

Ok, well, that's what I would be saying if we were actually football fans. Actually, this is an unedited transcript of a conversation that took place on our couch just moments ago:

Andre: [Flips on the news after watching Grey's Anatomy.] Huh! Looks like the Seahawks won.
Tavia: They did?
Andre: Yep.
Tavia: Huh!
Andre: What does the 12th Man thing mean?
Tavia: I don't know, we should Google it.
Andre: [Watching the seemingly never-ending news coverage of the win.] Matt Hasselbeck plays for the Seahawks?
Tavia: You didn't know that? Even I knew that.
Andre: Isn't he married to Elizabeth from Survivor?
Tavia: Yeah*. She's on the View now.
Andre: Huh!

*Edited to add that even this little tidbit isn't true. Elizabeth from Survivor is married to Tim Hasselbeck who plays for the NY Giants. Matt is Tim's brother. Huh!

And the prize goes too...

2006-01-19T10:00:00.000-08:00

The Number One Conversation You Don't Want To Overhear On the Baby Monitor:

Fiona: (crying) There's some more in my room.
Andre: There's more in your room?
Fiona: Yes, I hid it under my drawer. (sniffle, sniffle)
Andre: Under your drawer?! Is it just what fell out of your underpants?
Fiona: Yes, it landed on the carpet and I picked it up and hid it under my drawer.
Andre: Why did you do that?
Fiona: I didn't want you to get mad at me! (crying)
Andre: Did you get any poop in your bed?
Fiona: No, it was just all in my underpants.

Meme tagged

2006-01-17T10:09:00.000-08:00

HG tagged me with this one:

The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits I have" and people who get tagged then write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says you have been tagged? (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

I had a hard time coming up with some of these. I asked Andre to tell me what some of my weird habits are and he just used that opportunity to complain about me leaving napkins on the plates and then putting them into the sink when I cleared the table. That's not a habit, that's laziness.

I always leave my water glass from the night before on my nightstand until I have like 12 glasses on my nightstand and we don't have any clean glasses in the house because they're all in the bedroom. It would be so much easier if I would just take my glass downstairs each morning and put it in the dishwasher.

Oh wait! That's not my habit, that's Andre's habit.

I bite my nails. I'm trying to stop since I made a deal with Andre that I'd quit if he quit smoking and he did. I've pretty much managed to control myself, but I still bite my pinky nails every once in a while. I like to think of my pinky nails as my nicoderm patch. It's all about the baby steps. I also have to keep them very short or I'll start biting them again. I don't like to feel my nails above my fingertips. Yuck.
I don't wear any jewelry except my wedding ring. I have an appreciation for pretty jewelry and I have a whole bunch of jewelry that my mother in law has given me (because she apparently hasn't noticed in the seven years she's known me that I don't wear any jewelry), I just don't ever put it on. Sometimes I think about putting it on, but then I feel like I'm going to the opera or something with all my jewels and I just put it back in the jewelry box.
I like to read two books at once. I usually have one that I leave by my bed and one that I carry all over the house (or to work when I was working).
I pick my split ends compulsively. This has been a lot better since I've been keeping my hair shorter and actually getting it trimmed more than once a year.
I'm really having trouble thinking of another habit. I'm sure my mother or sister could add another one in here. Most of the rest of the things I'm thinking off are a direct result of laziness or procrastination and not really a "habit" per se.

I'm going to give this one to Tamara and Allie, but only if they want to and are looking for something to write about. I think this meme has traveled so far and wide already that I don't have many other bloggers to pass it on to; everyone's been tagged already. See? Procrastination again. It never pays, children. It never pays.

Reading List 2006

2006-01-17T00:01:00.000-08:00

Read
I'm just going to put in the titles so I can finish these up for the year. I stopped keeping track, so these are the ones I remember:

The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde.

A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. (How on earth did anyone think this was non-fiction?)

Stolen Lives by Malika Oufkir

The Mole People: Life in the Tunnels Beneath New York City by Jennifer Toth.

How to Get Your Kids to Eat But Not Too Much by Ellyn Satter

1-2-3 Magic: Effective Discipline for Children 2 to 12 by

Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde. Loving the continuing Thursday Next series. And finally discovered where Fraulein N got her name!

Siblings Without Rivalry: How to Help Your Children Live Together So You Can Live Too by Adele Farber and Elaine Mazlish. I decided we really needed this book after hearing us say, "Why can't you eat your dinner, Fiona? Even your baby sister has eaten more than you." Yeah, just trying not to screw up the kids. Too much.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler. Loved it. Tale of living in and escaping from post apocalyptic California. Al Gore would love this book since the apocalypse is caused by global warming.

Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year by Anne Lamott. I love Anne Lamott and this is a great read. It was definitely appropriate reading too as Amelia reaches the one year mark, I was nodding my head with recognition the whole time. I especially appreciated that she too feared her child would grow up to be a Republican.

Incredible Years: A Troubleshooting Guide for Parents of Children Aged 3 to 8 by Carolyn Webster-Stratton. We got this during the height of Fiona's temper tantrums. Helpful. Doesn't make you feel like a crap parent even when your kid is totally out of control.

Kindred by Octavia Butler. A science fiction novel that combines time travel with social issues. Her modern day narrator experiences slavery first hand while the book explores the question of how slaves and slave owners are made. After reading this, I'm pretty sure the author of Time Traveler's Wife drew some inspiration from Butler.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. Very Jane Austen-like story. I loved it and was quite saddened to find out that Dodie Smith hadn't published much else besides 101 Dalmatians. I wanted to read more of her work.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Story of two friends in modern day Afghanistan. Eye opening and a good story. A little heavy on the Victorian-like use of coincidence to forward the plot for my taste, but a good, engaging story that made me loathe the Taliban.

Baltimore Blues, Charm City, Butcher's Hill, In Big Trouble, and The Sugar House by Laura Lippman. This series was recommended to me by a friend and I'm really enjoying it as you can see. Maybe a little too much. Perhaps I should take a break and read something else. The main character is a woman about my age and I like that she's not perfect.

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery. This book never fails to make me cry. Even more so now that I'm a mother for some reason. Gosh, I love Anne Shirley.

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I was surprised to find out this is on the Modern Library's 100 best novels list. I shouldn't have been, because it's a great book.

Night by Elie Weisel. Horrifying and heartbreaking - Weisel's story of his time in concentration camps in Poland and Germany. This is a short book, but it still wasn't easy to get through.

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel. Beautiful story and a quick read. Definitely worth a read if you haven't read it before.

The Beekeeper's Apprentice by Laurie R. King. A re-read. Still love this book.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Man, I am such a sucker! I've read this one before and knew I didn't like it all that much. The whole book goes basically like this: Someone gets killed, try to guess his passwords, "scholarly" exposition, someone tries to kill narrator, try to guess the passwords, "scholarly" exposition, try to guess the passwords, too-easily-guessable villain is revealed and defeated, "scholarly" exposition, neat and wholely implausible ending.

Every Secret Thing by Laura Lippman. I didn't like this one as much as her Tess Monaghan series. Maybe it was the whole theme of child murderers, I don't know. I just wasn't that into it.

Empress Orchid by Anchee Min. The story of a concubine who ends up ruling China. A sympathetic view of Tzu Hsi's rise to power. Interesting, but the historical novel genre and I just aren't meant to be best pals, I guess.

Pop Goes the Weasel by James Patterson. Everytime I finish one of his books I vow never to read another one. And then I do. I don't even really like them and am now quite convinced that James Patterson hates women and uses his writing to act out all of his violent fantasies against womankind. In this last one, all of the women were killed by a serial killer in spectacularly awful, violent ways. The one time a man was killed? Neat shot to the head. And it's been that way in all of the books I've read by him. Women stolen to be sex slaves and then killed (in more than one book), women tortured, women serial killed. I'm kind of scared to be writing this because I'm afraid James Patterson might read it and come and find me.

7 month Amelia, now with a shinier coat and fewer hairballs

2006-01-12T17:40:00.000-08:00

When Fiona was a baby, even after she learned to crawl and walk, she preferred to be carried everywhere. I practically lived with her stuffed into the backpack, even just working around the house. She wanted to be right next to me, if not the center of attention, then at least close enough to touch me. She preferred nursing to all other activities and would have been happy to just lay in my lap all day having me snuggle her.

Amelia is the total opposite. She doesn't snuggle into my shoulder and cuddle up, she twists away to look at what's going on around her. She tries to launch herself out of my arms so she can crawl around and eat things off the floor. As I was fixing lunch for Fiona today, she was trying so hard to get down that I almost dropped her. My kitchen floor isn't exactly sparkling, but I had vacuumed up the larger chunks and I put her down to roam the kitchen. Straight for the catbowl, and the girl is fast. She managed to get a handful of catfood into her mouth before I could get back across the room to her and from the expression on her face, thought it was quite delicious. Nothing like a little added taurine for an aging cat's kidney health to make a baby happy. I'm glad she got the hairball formula because I caught her trying to eat cat hair earlier today. Straight from the cat.

One of the preschool moms just had a baby and it surprises me every day just how much bigger Amelia already is. How on earth did she get to be seven months old? She's closer to her first birthday than she is to her birth. We just finished switching the guest room over to be her nursery and got the crib set up. As much as I like the idea of her sleeping all night in her crib and as nice as it will be to have my side of the bed back, I'm going miss sleeping with her at night. That's the only time I really get any snuggles. She still tries to get as close to me as she can when she's sleeping, her legs curled up against my stomach and her face next to mine. If she were more an all day cuddler like Fiona, I think I'd be more anxious to move her out.

She's standing all the time now, usually with a favorite toy in hand, gnawing on it as she balances. She tried to take one step yesterday and promptly face planted directly into the coffee table. She has her two bottom teeth and has used them quite effectively and often while nursing. I hope that even though she's had a taste of human blood she doesn't grow up to be a cannibal or a vampire.

She's also learning to play games. Her favorite is "crawl as fast as I can and try to make it out the door and up the stairs before mom catches me" and she giggles when I capture her. She also likes to climb all over Fiona and pull her hair. Fiona doesn't enjoy that game nearly as much as Amelia does.

Oh, and she's armed and totally dangerous:

I know you're out there

2006-01-10T17:20:00.000-08:00

I see you! I know you're there. Did you know it's National Delurking Week? Yeah, I had no idea either until HG mentioned it. So do your patriotic duty and let me know you're out there. Just raise that hand and say "here!" Come on, you can do it.

Hold me.

2006-01-03T21:18:00.000-08:00

Standing up!

"Resolutions"

2006-01-02T16:31:00.000-08:00

A little late, but here are the things that I'd like to do this year. I'm not making any hard-on-myself resolutions this year. Of course I need to do things like lose that pesky baby weight, but a resolution never really helps with that for me. This year I want to resolve to do some of the little things that will make my life happy:

1. Wear more lipstick. I think I look better with lipstick on. My lips are very pale without it and it makes me look a little ill when I don't have it on. Everyone needs something that makes them feel a little prettier.

2. Get a pedicure. I've never had one and my feet need some love.

3. Read more. I joined Paperback Book Swap and the books are rolling in. I need to keep my mind busy with things other than whether or not Walt made the polar bears appear on the island. (Because there was the whole bird thing and the polar bear on the comic book and the polar bear gift as a baby, but then in the training movie there were polar bears. I just can't decide. And how did he choose that exact moment to start a chat session with the hatch's computer? Are the others monitoring the hatch? Is it even Walt on the other end?)

4. Enjoy my kids as much as possible before going back to work.

5. Buy some new jeans. Maybe even two pairs. Shop for them without children in tow. Don't wait to lose the baby weight, just do it. Heck, maybe even a new shirt too.

6. Go see at least four movies this year with Andre.

7. See at least two movies with my mom. Girl movies. Movies Andre won't see. Yay chick flicks!

Twelve Days of Christmas

2006-01-01T14:49:00.000-08:00

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! I was going to do a clever 12 days of Christmas song with all of our holiday happenings in it concluding with "One child puking on the couch" but then I couldn't really think of anything else to go in the song.

Fiona got a call from Santa Claus two days before Christmas because she was being a complete four year old with the whining and the crying and the stink face and the hitting. She was trembling (with fear? with happiness that Santa called her? with awe?) as she talked to him and I think it did help somewhat as she got through the next couple of days without as much drama.

Santa rewarded her on Christmas with a toy kitchen. She likes it, I think. She better. That thing took Andre almost four hours to put together. We probably could have just given her candy and she would have been just as happy. And now we've set the bar for next year. Damn.

Tamara and I went to go get manicures one day with my salon gift card. It wasn't nearly as luxurious as I had imagined it and I'm glad I didn't spend "real" money on it. There were no serving boys clad only in loincloths who fanned us gently with palm fronds as our maidservents placed petit fours in our mouths while our nails dried. I did get a two minute hand massage which is more luxury than I've had for awhile so I guess that's something.

For my mother's birthday Tamara, Fiona, and I took her to tea at the Queen Mary. Andre grudgingly stayed home with Amelia but I doubt he would have enjoyed taking turns with the rest of us wearing the official Queen Mary tiara. Just talking about it right now kind of makes me want to eat some more tea sandwiches. Mmmmm....tea sandwiches.

Andre and I threw a huge New Year's Eve party complete with seventeen kinds of appetizers and wine tastings. It lasted until three a.m. and only ended when the cops came. It's hard to look our neighbors in the eyes today after what some of our party goers were doing on the front lawn. (Actually we ate some delicious steaks and then I cleaned the kitchen and we watched television until I fell asleep in the rocking chair before midnight. New Year's Rockin' Eve indeed!)

And today, to start the New Year right, Amelia stood up by herself. Not pulled up, STOOD. UP. Ay yi yi.

Happy New Year!

2005 resolutions in review

2006-01-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

These weren't supposed to be resolutions per se, just "reminders to myself." Let's see how I did, shall we?

Don't drink so damn much soda or you'll gain 60 pounds and be an enormous whale for your 10th college reunion.

I ended up gaining 55 pounds when I was pregnant with Amelia - same as with Fiona. I don't think it had much to do with soda though since I went through a major sparkling water craving. I think it had a lot more to do with all those delicious frappucinos that Starbucks kept making for me, the bastards.

If you cleaned a little every day instead of waiting until the house was a sty and trying to do it all on the weekends, you might actually enjoy your weekends.

Why is this so difficult for me? I hate cleaning. I've found that if the house is really clean I can maintain it for a while, but if it's messy to start with I just can't rectify it and it gets worse.

One game of Candyland or Hi Ho Cherry-oh might be painful, but won't actually kill you.

I still hate Candyland and Hi Ho Cherry-oh. But I do play more with Fiona. I'd rather play pretend with her or make a craft with her or something than play those godawful games.

Hiring a babysitter could be a very good thing.

We did manage to get out a few times before Amelia was born, only a couple of times since then. Now that she's eating more solids it will be easier to get out again. Especially now that the grandparents are in town! Whoo hoo free childcare!

Bringing lunch to work once in a while might actually save you a load of cash. And if you quit buying mochas too you could save $50 a week. Enough for a babysitter and a movie!

Um yeah, I was terrible about this when I was working downtown. And now I miss it so. Oh delicious Ethiopian and Indian buffet and falafel and turkey pesto sandwiches, I long for you every day while I'm eating grilled cheese with Fiona.

Putting the laundry away after you fold it mght be painful, but won't actually kill you. Plus, you won't have to walk around naked in the cold house in the morning wondering which basket might have clean underpants.

Um yeah, I still suck at this. I HATE folding laundry.

A budget and Quicken - messy bills and accounts make you crazy and you know it.

This one is Andre's fault. He won't let me buy Quicken because he claims to have a mythical place online where he can get it "practically free with rebates" yet it never materializes in our house. I'm totally buying it if I don't have a copy by February.

Try to decide on a name before the kid is born.

Check! We totally did this. I still like Josephine though.

Clean out the garage. Please. I'm begging you.

Andre did this! Well, enough that we can actually fit a minivan in the garage. It's like a little slice of heaven on earth.

2005-12-23T12:11:00.000-08:00

Things that amuse me today

2005-12-22T09:21:00.000-08:00

Christmastime + rain + no school + sugar-induced crankiness + Santa anticipation + needing to clean the house + baby that won't nap = Irritable me. So, in case others are in the same boat, here are a couple of things that amuse me. Maybe they'll make you smile too.

Bush in freefall
SNL's Chronic of Narnia rap. I've watched this several times and it never fails to make me laugh.
Simon says Santa. (Looks like this one is down until Friday due to excessive Simon-saysing.)
Making Fiends. Lynn at Sprigs pointed out this one. I'm singing the song in my head right now.
The gossip sites: What Would Tyler Durden Do? Pink is the New Blog. Go Fug Yourself.

That's all I've got. What amuses you today?

And she spanked them all soundly and sent them to bed

2005-12-20T14:28:00.000-08:00

Poor old Mother Hubbard, I think I know what happened inside the shoe that day. It was probably the week before Christmas and her however many children had transformed into the devil's spawn what with all the sugar stolen in bite sized morsels from the gingerbread house and the break in routine from not going to school. They were all crammed into that little tiny shoe since it was raining out. Old Mother Hubbard's four year old was probably the worst. Let's call her, say... Fiona, that's a nice name. Old Mother Hubbard's daughter Fiona probably started the day off in a complete snit because Old Mother Hubbard turned the TV off before Dragon Tales was over. Old Mother Hubbard had a fun day planned at the children's museum so she asked Fiona to get dressed and eat breakfast. Well, Fiona did NOT WANT TO EAT BREAKFAST! She DID NOT WANT TO GET DRESSED! She DID NOT WANT TO BRUSH HER HAIR! She did want to make mean faces at her mother and squeeze the baby until she cried (under the guise of "hugging her").

When Old Mother Hubbard found a napkin filled with Fiona's dinner from the night before she asked Fiona if she had eaten her dinner or put it into the napkin. Fiona said something like, "No Mother Hubbard, it wasn't me. Uh uh. Not me, I didn't do it. No way. " Then Old Mother Hubbard realized her four year old knew how to lie and lie with a straight face. Old Mother Hubbard played the Santa card and Fiona caved. After a brief visit to the naughty chair, they finally climbed out of the shoe and headed off to the children's museum where they met some friends and had fun and laughed and played and ran around and had a lovely time.

Those clever bastards at the children's museum made Old Mother Hubbard and Fiona (and all the rest of the children, however many there were) exit through the store where Fiona saw all the delicious candy on display. Fiona really wanted some candy, but Old Mother Hubbard was a mean, vicious old woman and would not allow her to eat candy before lunch. Fiona cried and cried and cried and cried, because Old Mother Hubbard was such a cruel mommy. She told Old Mother Hubbard that she didn't like her one bit and that Old Mother Hubbard wasn't her mommy any more. Old Mother Hubbard was sad for a while, mostly because she had recently discovered that the circus was no longer allowed to buy children.

Old Mother Hubbard, Fiona, the other shoe children (let's just call these collective children "Amelia" from now on, it makes the story telling easier), and their friends all went to McDonalds because Old Mother Hubbard and the other mommy did not want to make lunch. Amelia decided that she did NOT WANT TO EAT LUNCH. And she DID NOT WANT TO SIT IN THE HIGH CHAIR. And she DID NOT WANT TO SIT ON MOMMY'S LAP. And most of all SHE DID NOT WANT TO DO ANYTHING BUT LEAVE MCDONALDS RIGHT THAT INSTANT. So Old Mother Hubbard tried to get Fiona to come down from the playground maze so they could leave McDonalds right that instant, but Fiona was mad mad MAD because she had been crawling around that maze for quite a while and still couldn't find the right way to the slide. So Fiona screamed and screamed and screamed. Old Mother Hubbard thought her head was going to pop right off in McDonalds which would have been quite messy and a little traumatizing to the other customers.

They all rode home in sullen silence until Fiona decided that she was going to take off her shoes and socks and throw them around the car which is not acceptable behavior in Old Mother Hubbards eyes. She informed Fiona that she would be marching straight upstairs to take a nap when they got back to the shoe and Fiona said, "NO! I'm not taking a nap because I'M NOT TIRED!" and glared at Old Mother Hubbard with her special stink face especially reserved for her mother. Old Mother Hubbard was DONE with the sassy mouth and the sassy face and told Fiona to cut it out. They got back home to the Shoe and Fiona started to scream at her mother that she was NOT going to take a nap and she was NOT going to listen to her mother and she was NOT going to do anything that Old Mother Hubbard wanted. So, Old Mother Hubbard gave her a spank on her bottom and put her to bed.

Poor Old Mother Hubbard. She didn't even believe in spanking before she had children.

At least, that's how I imagine it might have happened.

Another first

2005-12-19T22:37:00.000-08:00

Amelia popped out a tooth. Next up? College.

6 month Amelia

2005-12-16T15:59:00.000-08:00

I thought I had three more months. Hah! Amelia is totally mobile. She's not a perfect crawler, it's more like a lurching, Frankensteinian, inchworm sort of move, but she roams the family room with ease. She also likes to eat small things off the floor, so it's almost like we got the Roomba back into action without having to send it off to be fixed.

She's such the anti-Fiona, I don't really know what to do with her. She's perfectly happy to Roomba around the room looking for electrical cords to chew or puzzle pieces to gnaw. She can get from a crawling position back into a sitting position to play with toys. She doesn't need the constant never ceasing attention that Fiona needed. She even eats food from a spoon, something Fiona never did. I feel like I'm just learning how to parent again since none of this has been the same.

She went in for her sixth month check up the other day and the doctor thought she would most likely be walking before 10 months. Some people might get all exited about what a walking prodigy their genius child is, but I'm terrified. Babies don't have any common sense and they shouldn't be allowed to walk until they figure the world out a little more fully.

I already miss my snuggly little baby and she's only six months old. Why didn't anyone warn me this would go so fast?

The Fonz

2005-12-13T14:46:00.000-08:00

I really wish I was better about doing the laundry. Then I'd have clean socks and wouldn't be forced to wear white athletic socks with my blue jeans and black clogs. Yeah, I know. I look like a dork, but at least I don't smell.

2005-12-11T09:40:00.001-08:00

See my genius child work peg puzzles at six months old? Just kidding, she just likes to gnaw on the pieces. We're going to have to take the puzzle away before she learns how to read though, see below. Thanks Target for another quality One Spot product!

An adorable and delicious "chiken"

Oh look, it's a white, fluffy "lamp."

Bright lights, big city

2005-12-09T14:27:00.000-08:00

My ex-boss still hates me.

Fiona had a movie date scheduled with Gramcie today and I took the opportunity of being minus one child to attempt a trip downtown to finish up a little shopping. I realized just how small my little world has become when I saw that they had completely ripped down a building and started installing sidewalks along a stretch of street I used to drive every single day. The whole street is different and I hadn't even know about it until today. And this was still in our neighborhood!

I got downtown and parked in my old parking structure. I like to affectionately call it "the car mangler" since it completely destroyed my last car. (I like to place full responsibility on the parking garage and none on myself.) The wall took a big scrape off my bumper and one of those stupid pillars scraped the passenger side rear door all within the space of three months.

I called up to make sure my ex-coworkers were there before I headed up to my ex-work and my ex-boss overheard the phone conversation. Before I even entered the building she bolted from her desk and didn't come back for an hour and a half. My co-worker said she didn't say a word about where she was going, just got up and left.

That makes me sad, actually. I was putting up our Christmas ornaments last weekend and came across the ones she had given me. A little nesting doll Santa she brought back from Russia and a tall jingly Santa she gave to me for our annual ornament exchange, both of which made me smile. I missed her a little bit when I saw them. I thought about sending her an email, but didn't.

I was a little nervous about seeing her since we hadn't spoken since I quit, but figured four months would be enough time to cool down. Apparently not. Was quitting my job to stay home with my baby that awful? I worked for her for almost three years, can she not just get over it already and at least feign a little interest for a fifteen minute visit? Maybe she had an urgent, not-on-her-calendar meeting that she suddenly remembered when she heard my name and it had nothing to do with me. Whatever, it still makes me sad.

I got back to a mangle-free Mr. Roboto, put my sleepy baby in the back and headed home. Maybe next time.

Breaking news!

2005-12-08T15:55:00.000-08:00

Streisand cancels her newspaper subscription!

I know that all of you out there are probably very concerned about this situation. Let me assure you that no one was seriously hurt in the cancellation of the subscription and life will slowly but surely get back to normal for everyone involved. I know you probably want to do something to help, as we all like to reach out during a tragedy. Please consider making a donation to the Red Cross.

Holiday brain

2005-12-06T19:41:00.000-08:00

Let's just pretend the last week or so of not posting didn't happen, OK? Things just start blurring all together around the holidays for me. I get all frenetic about deciding on gifts and wrapping and holiday menus and the perfect Christmas music mix and snapping a good picture for the Christmas cards, oh and what about holiday stamps, we can't send out Christmas cards with flag stamps, and oh crap the girls have dresses but don't have any tights, I really don't want to have to buy tights, but oh look, Andre's brother just sent the exact same gift to Andre that I got for him so I have to go to Target anyway and exchange my present. And we don't have a wreath yet, what's Christmas without a wreath? And I haven't made any Christmas cookies yet. And the house is still a mess from the Thanksgiving houseguests and my general lack of housekeeping skills. Oh and Amelia not only doesn't have tights, she doesn't have shoes! And I think Fiona's already outgrown her Christmas shoes even though I just bought them a month and a half ago. You see what planning ahead gets you?

So anyway, I can't seem to focus much. I think it's because I've been trained to believe that the holidays are the time for sitting around in your pajamas all day, eating Christmas cookies and watching TV. School was out and we didn't usually travel over the holidays so Tamara and I spent our time searching the house for our presents and coming up with reasonable lies to tell about how long we practiced the piano while mom and dad were at work. Man I miss those days. Now I have all the holiday preparations to do, but also all of the holiday listlessness. I have to figure out what ingredients I need to make cookies! But I think I'll just sit here in my pajamas for a while. I have to go to the store to buy stocking stuffers! But we taped Rudolph and I haven't seen that for awhile. What in the name of sweet Jesus can I get for my dad for Christmas?! I don't know, I'll think about it after I read a couple of chapters of my book.

A picture to tide you over...

2005-11-28T15:22:00.000-08:00

Fiona and her cousin chasing the waves

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-20T17:18:00.000-08:00

I've got a houseful of in-laws right now and will be mostly occupied keeping them busy for the week. So take these best wishes now: May your turkey be moist, your stuffing be salmonella free, your family treat you like a grown up, your children sit still long enough to eat, and your black Friday Christmas shopping be fruitful. See you next week!

The post to distract homeland security from the last post

2005-11-18T09:58:00.000-08:00

Big eyes and a kitten. See? Totally harmless.

The post for which Fiona gets an FBI file

2005-11-17T15:59:00.000-08:00

A conversation at lunch today:

Fiona: Mommy, what does murdering mean?
Me: (Trying to figure out where Fiona heard about murdering) Um, it means killing someone. But no one should ever, ever kill someone else.
Fiona: I know Mommy. It's just for a story.
Me: Are you thinking up a story?
Fiona: Yes, in my head. It's about George Bush.
Me: (Snickering, then feeling guilty for snickering since George Bush IS the president.) We shouldn't talk about murder and the President, buddy.
Fiona: I know mommy.
A pause
Fiona: Mommy, I think some day George Bush will say sorry. Or die.

Dear Secret Service,

She's only four years old. Please don't start staking out our house.

Sincerely,
Me

Character flaw

2005-11-14T16:03:00.000-08:00

I am always right. Always. Even when I'm not technically correct, in my mind I am RIGHT. It really bothers me when people disagree with me because it means that they somehow are challenging the essential rightness of my being. They're not just disagreeing with a particular opinion or thought, they are denying the fact that I am RIGHT. How dare they?

For example, while eating at our company holiday lunch last year we were watching clips of holiday movies playing on screens in the room. As Bing Crosby came on singing "White Christmas," my boss said, "Oh, Holiday Inn! I love this movie." "Actually," I blurted out (that's something else I do a lot, use the word "actually;" I'm sure it's very annoying), "that's White Christmas." My boss looked at me like I was being silly and said, "Oh no, I own this movie, it's Holiday Inn." Who cares, right? Who cares if my ridiculous boss ridiculously thinks that Bing Crosby sings the title song to White Christmas in a totally different movie? Is it going to change the world for me to correct her? Will little children stop dying of hunger in far-off lands? No. But I was RIGHT! I couldn't let it go and after bickering back and forth about it for a while plus some under-my-breath muttering, I had to go ask the AV guy for the movie case and bring it back to the table and show everyone that I was RIGHT.

I'm no dummy of course, I know that people find this behavior irritating. I've tried to appear a little more socially apt by just gritting my teeth and saying something like, "Huh! I've never seen Holiday Inn, I guess I'll have to rent it!" or even, "Wow, I had no idea Bing Crosby was in two Christmas themed movies." Did you note how I carefully avoided saying that the other person was right (because I am right) while trying to make it look like I agree with them? Yeah, that's because I'm a freak.

Once or twice, I've even been able to choke out the words, "No, you're right. I was mistaken." But only with Andre, because I'm married to him. It makes men feel good if you let them be right once in a while. (And because he'll totally go look it up on the internet to rub it in if I'm not actually, technically, 100% correct.)

So that's my big character flaw. I'm working on it, really I am. I know it's OK to be wrong sometimes. (For other people.)

Notes to the world:

2005-11-10T09:47:00.000-08:00

Bones: Please no more maggoty corpses. I can't do maggoty corpses. Dried up bones, OK. Maggots, no.
Lost: Please remind Andre of your promise to have "one survivor lost forever" a few more times before the show begins so he doesn't call me a spoiler for speculating which Lostaway gets it. If it's in the previews and every living person on earth knows it but him, it's not a spoiler, right?
Dentist office parking lot: Having one end of your parking lot end up in a "no exit, entrance only" onramp is ridiculous since there is no possible way to turn around. I had to exit out the entrance and feared for my life the entire time.
Target: I love your dollar section. Santa does too.
CD burner: Why aren't you working? Why? I don't understand what your problem is. I have a carefully thought out Christmas list that includes carefully thought out mixes for people and you are ruining Christmas already! It's November and Christmas is ruined.
Turkey: I can't wait to eat you.
Ex-work: I'm so glad I'm not there and don't have to work during the holidays (even though the CD burner ruined Christmas).
Fiona: Whose child are you really? Any kid who doesn't like to eat is no kid of mine.
Amelia: How can you possibly be five months old already?
Tamara: I can't believe you're going to run a marathon. I don't think I've ever run more than a mile in my entire life and I'm pretty sure I walked part of the way during that mile. And that was during P.E. when I was in eighth grade. You're pretty impressive.
Artsy Tartsy candy: Fiona saw you on Unwrapped and wants Santa to bring you to her for Christmas. Where are you?
Christmas: I'm SO ahead of you this year.
Brain: Stop being so scattered! Maybe you need less caffeine or something.

Hear ye, hear ye...

2005-11-05T09:14:00.000-08:00

According to the Eldest Child, formerly known as Fiona, also formerly known as Rainbow, she shall now be addressed as "Donkey."

Also according to the Eldest Child, the baby formerly known as Amelia shall now be called "Dave."

Why Procrastinators Should Not Marry

2005-11-03T09:45:00.000-08:00

Say Spouse A dilly-dallied a little bit and didn't really feel like going to the licensing agency with two small children in tow and turn in some necessary paperwork in order to get the car tabs renewed. Say Spouse B started driving Spouse A's car. Say Spouse B got pulled over and issued a $200 ticket for driving with expired tabs. (This is all totally hypothetical of course.) Even though Spouse B is filled with anger at Spouse A and really wants to shout and make a big fuss about Spouse A's lackadaisical attitude toward car tab renewal, Spouse B realizes that he himself has very rarely renewed the car tabs in a timely fashion and does not have much room to fuss. Spouse A is very, very, very sorry of course, but it would feel so much better if it were possible to throw around some righteous indignation.

And this is why procrastinators should not marry. Hypothetically.

Halloween

2005-11-01T17:32:00.000-08:00

Do you remember going trick or treating and people would only give you one piece of candy per house and most of what you got was kind of crappy candy and it was actually a thrill when someone gave you something good like a fun size chocolate bar? I remember being so excited when I got a mini-Snickers in my bag. I'd sort through my haul and make categories of crappy candy like those stupid peanut butter taffy things in the black and orange wrappers and good candy like chocolate and then I'd proceed to gorge on the good stuff. If I didn't eat it fast my folks would "share" it with me. Andre was a Halloween hoarder. He'd bring home his haul and not have to worry about his parents "sharing" it with him and then he'd try to dole out his candy so that he had enough to last for months. I'm pretty sure he wasn't human.

Fiona didn't have much to sort in her bucket last night. She only got one piece of inferior candy (Smarties). The rest was Skittles, M&Ms, and a few other assorted chocolate bars. Whatever happened to the peanut butter taffies? It just doesn't seem as fun to me to have such homogeneity in your Halloween bucket. How will American children ever learn the crucial skill of sorting the crap from the tasty? Or decision making skills? "If I eat two Smarties, one pixie stick, and three Snickers bars, that will only leave me with 2 chocolate bars and five hundred stupid taffies. Perhaps I should eat some taffies now so I don't have to look at them anymore." And negotiation skills: "I'll trade you two jolly ranchers and a pixie stick for a Bit O' Honey. No? How about three jolly ranchers and 25 taffies? Still no? How about four jolly ranchers, 25 taffies, and a pair of wax lips?" Also asset protection, "No mom, no Snickers bars this year. Sorry. What's that you say? You want to take a look in my bucket? How about I do some sorting first in my bedroom and then I'll show it to you later!"

In short, that bag of Snickers fun size bars you handed out on Halloween just might mean the destruction of American culture. Without the fundamental skills that every child should learn through their Halloween candy, America will certainly be the poorer. Think twice next year, my friends. Buy taffy.

Sometimes I just want to be a trucker.

2005-10-31T12:48:00.000-08:00

My sister just helped my mom move up here from Seattle by driving the UHaul for her. Normally I would think that was a nightmare job. I don't even LIKE driving, let alone for hours on end. But then she told me she got to listen to books on tape uninterrupted and chain smoke with no one to judge her cigarette consumption. That sounded SO wonderful for some reason. Me, all by myself, smoking like a chimney* and listening to a book for hours on end. With no small children crawling all over me and trying to hold on to my ankles while I walk and following me around like a small accessory dog because they've heard too many Halloween stories lately and are now afraid of the bathroom closet and every other closet for that matter and will they please just leave me alone for two damn seconds?

I think I need some alone time.

*For the record, I haven't smoked regularly in 5 years, but it still sounds sooooo good.

Called out!

2005-10-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

Maybe you didn't think I'd be able to see the search terms you used when you found my blog, you sick freak. I don't think I'm that naive, but I really didn't think there was anyone out there that fantasized about trying that sort of thing. I think you may be violating several laws of nature if you actually do it. I'm feeling a little sick just knowing that there are people like you just blending in with the general population.

Click here to see what they wanted. May not be work/child safe.

A riddle

2005-10-27T15:15:00.000-07:00

Fiona: "Mommy how many bumps does a cannibal have?"
Me: Hmmm, this must be some sort of riddle... "I don't know sweetie, how many bumps does he have?"
Fiona: "No, I'm asking you, how many bumps does a cannibal have?"
Me: "Bumps? A cannibal?"
Fiona: "Yes, you know, a cannibal! One bump or two bumps?"
Me: "Ohhhhhhhh. A CAMEL!"
Fiona: "Yes! A cannibal!"

Grandparents

2005-10-25T13:56:00.000-07:00

Every summer for a number of years, my sister and I would fly to North Dakota to spend six weeks with my grandparents. We spent the summers riding our garage sale bikes around town, trying to see what daredevil feats we could perform. The big events were attending various Sons of Norway functions and church potlucks with an occasional trip to the Natural History museum or the state capitol building. Have you ever seen someone do the chicken dance onstage dressed in a bunad to live accordion music? I have. More than once. I remember these trips as being more bonding experiences with my sister than with my grandparents. While I know we were very precious to them being their only grandchildren, we weren't really close. I never called my grandmother just to chat and would never in a million years have talked to her about things like boys or periods or anything of a personal nature. Maybe it was the generation, I don't know, but I felt like my grandparents wouldn't really understand how a kid felt. I mean, sure, we watched Days of Our Lives together every day during the summer, but it just didn't seem like enough to really form a close relationship. I don't know what was missing. Time maybe? Spontaneity? We couldn't just run over to Grandma's house whenever we wanted. We couldn't flounce out of our parent's house in a huff and run over to Grandma's house for solace and cookies.

When Andre and I got married, we didn't really consider the grandparent factor when we were trying to figure out where to live. We weren't really thinking about kids, let alone our parents' relationships with those hypothetical kids when we chose to move to Seattle. It was more of a "I hate Los Angeles." "Well I hate Arizona" "Fine, let's move somewhere else then." "How about Seattle?" "Sure, I've never been there, but I'm sure it'd be great," kind of a conversation. Then our unexpected little Fiona appeared a year later and we had the grandparent quandry. Andre's parents live in New Hampshire and mine lived in Arizona. I think all of the grandparents feel like they've really missed out on the first few years of Fiona's life, seeing her usually only twice a year. I know I've certainly missed out on free babysitting.

I really want the girls to have better relationships with their grandparents than I had with mine. I'd like for them to spontaneously say, "Hey, I'm going to call Gramcie to see how she's doing" or "Hey! I got an A++ with my stupendous brain power, I'd love to tell Grandpa about it," rather than having to force them to call the grandparents. And I'd love for them to have a safe place to flounce off to, because wth Fiona in the house, I see a future filled with flouncing.

My mom is moving here this weekend. Until she figures out where she's going to work and where she'd like to live, she's going to be a mere five minutes away. Andre's parents are planning on looking at condos while they're here for Thanksgiving. Suddenly, a wealth of grandparents! I'm so excited by the possibility that Fiona and Amelia will know and appreciate their grandparents better than I did mine. That maybe someday I'll have one of them say, "Hey mom, I'm going over to Gramcie's. We're renting some movies and popping some popcorn. Can I borrow the flying car?" (This is the future we're talking about after all.) Fiona's already called my mom several times to ask her if she'd like to go trick or treating with us. I'm excited for her to share these holidays and fun times with the girls, but also the little moments. The just hanging out time. The don't have to do anything special because we can see you whenever we want time. The building a relationship time.

And the free babysitting.

How do you tell...

2005-10-24T11:58:00.000-07:00

A four year that instead of writing "Dear Great- Grandma" she has painstakingly scrawled "Dead Great-Grandma?" Oops.

Things that irritate me because I'm crabby today...

2005-10-21T17:55:00.000-07:00

The Amazing Race family edition. I'd like to meet the genius who thought that a race to places like the world's largest office chair and an Alabama trailer park would be interesting. Because it's not.
Amelia's insistance on grabbing giant pinching handfuls of my breast while she's nursing. I pull off her grabbing crab-like pincher fist and she grabs me again. Over and over and over again.
Fiona's complete inability to walk in the house when Amelia is sleeping. I can't tell you how many times she's woken the baby up with her galloping down the hall like a shetland pony made out of lead.
Mildew on the ceiling of my bathroom. I can't reach it to clean it and it's gross. I feel like I'm showering in prison.
I spent two hours going to two different grocery stores to get ready for a party at our place tomorrow and I still forgot a key ingredient in two dishes. Stupid coconut milk, I'm mad at you.
That I cleaned all day and still have more to do.
I waS TYPING THIS AND KEPT HITTING THE FUCKING CAPS LOCK BY MISTAKE.
Amelia was sitting in my lap and managed to create a geyser of poop straight up out of her diaper and into my crotch and then all over the couch and for a second I really wondered if it was me that pooped on the couch since my jeans were all warm and wet with poop.
I can't think of anything more, I'm too crabby.