Cynical Baby

Balmy January

2012-02-01T00:49:00.005-05:00

You see here the aftermath of Christmas. Within a week, the sturdiest stuffed dog toy we could find Sebby had been methodically dismembered (all parts still squeaky!). A month later I disposed of the last eviscerated chunks of poor beloved Skunk. It kept her fairly busy and was a lot of fun, but an empty milk jug plus a few small dog treats inside (Q's invention) is an equal amount of bang for the buck. (Those don't even last a full day, I admit.)

Our post-student teaching routine is starting to fall into place. Here you see Noodle baking with me. She follows Q's pattern of loving the measuring, the stirring and the licking of spoons, and the complete evacuation once the mixer is turned on.

I am so delighted to have Wednesdays to spend relaxed time with her again. She has picked up some excellent manipulation lingo and now directly tells me, in a voice full of pathos, "I need some attention."

Much of my own new routine involves wearing out the dog. Three days a week (when possible and I don't oversleep), I take Sebby to the unofficial dogpark in Essex. Sebby tears around with her new dog pals, and consistently loves each and every dog she meets, even if they tell her rudely that her desire to groom their teeth is going to get her face ripped off. The dogpark wears this dog out better than my new four day routine of walking and running a 2.5 loop in Chester with her before work.

Last week Q asked to join me on my Wednesday morning dogpark routine. We bargained for full school preparedness before leaving home, and it worked out beautifully. I've really missed our Wednesday morning breakfasts together, so I'm hoping we might combine the dogpark time and our Wednesday morning tradition to carve out our special time together each week.

One of the most surprising aspects of the dogpark, is Q's response to the hordes of running dogs. Not only has his mild (and unconfirmed) allergy to dog spit disappeared, Q has entirely turned around his fear of dogs. Since my job is to keep an eye on Sebby, I often turn around to find Q chatting up other dog owners and giving what one of them described as, "a running commentary" on the dog behaviors and interactions.

All things change, but as I drove to work the other day, I recognized that this is what happy feels like.

Milestones: Tooth Fairy

2011-12-14T08:51:00.009-05:00

At Q's regular check up in early December, it was determined that Q did indeed have an adult tooth coming in. (Finally!) Unfortunately, it had found a spot behind the other teeth and was wedging up out of alignment with the other teeth. While the baby tooth was wiggly, the dentist wanted to pull it (assuming it didn't fall out in the meantime) so that the adult tooth had room to move into its appropriate spot as it was growing in.

Sitting in the dentist's office yesterday, Q asked me, "Is the Tooth Fairy real?"

"Absolutely."

He didn't quite believe me, so he wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy.

He taped it to the back of the baggie with the baby tooth. I think he was planning to hide it where only the Tooth Fairy could find it, but luckily, he forgot and left it on the table.

Note the stamp.

This morning he found her response in an envelope, along with a snowflake, and a dollar bill...

After showing Noodle, I heard him in the hallway: "This is awesome!"

Halloween

2011-11-25T11:04:00.008-05:00

When I was a child, I felt sorry for the children in store bought costumes. They were plastic and unpersuasive. As an adult, I empathize with the parents significantly more. On the bright side, costumes for children are dramatically better made.

This year Q announced he wanted to be a ninja. Watching the student parade in Essex, I realized that 75% of all the boys wanted to be ninjas this year. Some classes had only ninjas. Nothing like having a hazardous concept (ie: black) integral to a costume.

Noodle had long claimed she wanted to be Ariel. Luckily that's an easy choice, if skimpy. Why do they make any costume without winterizing? Do they think little girls are trick or treating in preheated neighborhoods?

On facebook I posted that two nights in a row we put Q to bed in his jammies, only to discover him asleep in his ninja costume. In the morning he comes down in his jammies again. I caught him in a photo...

I wonder if he has midnight ninja adventures in his dreams.

Learning the hard way

2011-10-23T11:00:00.002-05:00

So the World's Best Dog had her first hard lesson this week. If you run in the house, someone will get hurt.

Maybe you. The dog was in a full puppy frenzy - playing, growling, chasing, chewing, and running, sort of a pre-bedtime burst of energy. She tore into the kitchen as if she'd seen a squirrel, and - we think - hit a cabinet and knocked her kneecap out of place.

Post surgery she's doing well. We're supposed to keep her "calm" for a MONTH to help her heal. She doesn't get it.

Luckily she's so good natured that when I hold her collar and prevent her from chasing the neighbor's dog, she simply sits and watches them longingly. I'm worried that puppy training class will be problematic, but I hope training her will give us good strategies for entertaining her without straining her leg...?

Doting

2011-10-08T17:59:00.003-05:00

So here are some more photos of our girl. She's making excellent housetraining progress. Tuesday she's scheduled to visit the vet and at the end of the month we'll start puppy training classes. No moment too soon. Jonathan is wryly concerned that Sebby is smart enough that she'll train us before we realize what is happening.

And rightly so!

Little Sebago

2011-10-01T15:02:00.006-05:00

We have an unexpected, but much appreciated, new family member.

This is our Little Sebago. That's a big name for her, so we call her Sebby.

A not quite impulsive addition, when we picked her up on Wednesday night, she was so frightened that she tried to hide under bushes instead of walking. Once in the house, she tried to burrow under sleeping Noodle on the couch.

Since then she has calmed down and perked up. She's an excellent walker, which is going to be a big job to keep up with. I'm hoping that when she's full grown I can run with her. Or run while she walks. She's already able to walk the 1.5 mile loop.

We are repeatedly delighted with her personality. She is a lab and husky mix, and it seems she is endowed with a mellow and friendly character. Sebby loves other dogs and happily greets humans. When she seemed frightened and panicky, I inadvertently taught her to sit and wait for passing cars, which would be fine, if we never wanted to walk in an area with roads busier than our own lazy street. I take this as a sign that she will train easily, if we are consistent and disciplined.

Q, who is intimidated by dogs, is thrilled with her. He walks her on her lead, constantly cooing, "GoodgirlSebby!Goodgirl!GoodgirlSebby!Sebby!Goodgirl!No.Goodgirl!"

Here's a small video of Sebby playing with her found toy (the first toy I saw her really play with):

Home Entertainment

2011-09-11T20:01:00.006-05:00

During the blackout following the hurricane, one of our family members grew so desperate for divine intervention, he found religion.

He is now to be referred to as the Pastafarian Penguin. If you are unfamiliar with the budding religion of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and its sudden popularity in Austria, please see this link.

Further investigation (or rather, I read in the newspaper) revealed that the divine intervention on the yellow house (previous hurricane post) was not a random act of grace. The tree was prepared before the hurricane to fall away from the house.

My grandmother liked to say that God helps those who help themselves.

Hurricane Irene

2011-09-05T09:20:00.013-05:00

While away in Maine, we kept an eye on the storm warnings, each one seeming to inch the hurricane's arrival closer by 6 hours. Luckily for us, our departure day coincided with the day before the hurricane and we managed to get home, unload our borrowed kayak, unload our own kayak, throw all the lawn furniture and toys into the shed and workshop, unload the car, and watch one last movie before the storm hit.

In my opinion, our town was not hard hit. We had a lot of downed branches and trees, but most of them missed houses. The photo below features a landmark house we use to give directions to our road. Someone asked the owner, "Are you a religious woman?"

In case you can't tell, that tree is only inches away...

We were fortunate in that we are on town water, so we always had flushing toilets. I took a shower on Monday, and the water was still hot. Jonathan took one on Tuesday and got warm water...and then it was gone. I heated several pots of water on our gas stove and had a bath with Nuala. Wednesday we gave up and went to the Red Cross shelter at the junior high for showers and to meet their rescue and therapy dog Cassie.

She speaks 5 languages! She looks unimpressed in several more. She was lovely.

Before leaving, we charged our phones and computer, but there was no wifi, so we had to head to the wifi shanty towns in Old Saybrook (Jonathan's description of the Starbucks and OS library). But that hot water and the immediate kindness of all the shelter workers was really lovely.

Nuala and I made the Red Cross a chalk sign and hopscotch before we left. I hear someone was carefully washing it away later. Ah well. At least we didn't use paint.

We regained our electricity on Thursday morning, about 2 hours before a planned retreat to Massachusetts to do laundry and escape the darkness. The Canadian power workers showed up on Saturday, looking like Chippendale dancers with their jumpsuits unzipped to display their ripped abs. We would've been just as excited if they had looked like John Goodman.

In the time it took one of my neighbors to walk out to gripe about not having electricity, they had the wires live, returning electricity to our neighbors, and wifi to our home. There are rumors of residents deep on wooded roads still without power, but all the world is beginning to feel right again. We are gorging on electricity to make up for the deprivation. I even ironed. It's been so long that Quinn asked what ironing was.

Jonathan's reply: "It's when what you say is the exact opposite of what you mean."

Boston Adventure

2011-07-02T08:04:00.010-05:00

Due to circumstances beyond our foresight, we are unable to take Q to the Statue of Liberty's crown this summer. Q is an ever flexible child and suggested we go to Boston instead, to see the Museum.

Q meant the Boston Science Museum, but we misunderstood, and ended up at the Boston Children's Museum, which was a fabulous adventure.

In the past we have taken the train for the Birthday Adventure, but this was the first year we brought Noodle. I learned the hard way that when Noodle is tired on a train, she bounces off the walls. Pinned down in her car seat, she falls asleep, so we decided to drive to Alewife, leave the car there, and take the MBTA from there.

From South Station, you can easily walk to the Children's Museum. Below you can see Q climbing the three story maze/net/climbing structure that greeted us.

Several of the exhibits were demonstrations of self propelled power.

Here you pull hard on the rope...

...and the ball (look hard) goes sproing!

Q and Noodle were also able to pull themselves (with a little assistance) high into the air...

I think Noodle's favorite room was the bubble exploration room, where I took no photos, although considering how wet and slippery it was, perhaps avoiding handling electronics was a good idea.

J and I were thrilled to see a Mac friend who now works at BCM in teacher outreach and education and ate lunch with her watching construction in the canal by the museum while Q&N mostly ignored their food and threw crumbs to the Canada geese and gulls.

In the afternoon, we hit the Public Garden. Having properly prepared the kids with multiple readings of Make Way for Ducklings, we rode on the Swan Boats, chatted with the Mallard Family, and visited their statues.

Nuala & Quack

Quinn & Mrs. Mallard

A real duckling and mallard...

I swear, this one was unposed. They were genuinely this sweet and good for the whole day. I'm both amazed and grateful.

More photos for perspective

2011-02-01T09:13:00.003-05:00

Now if I was trying to use photos to deceive, this is the photo I would use.

The above photo was taken in the neighbor's driveway- which drops down to the garage under her house.

Below is a photo of the most even area of snow I could find, where the kids could stand next to it for perspective. This is the back yard. The kids are in the path dug out so we can get oil delivered (and they did, just minutes after this photo was taken). Much to my great relief, the neighbor's snow blower was able to go off road to clear this path.

Cabin Fever Update

2011-01-27T21:46:00.005-05:00

Seeing this hanging on Q's door, I prepared to rip into him. I pulled it off the door and began to yell for him, when I saw what he'd put on the other side...

A second door hanger covered the rest of the household bases.

And for the Florida readers - the view from our street- I'm not sure this gives an accurate appreciation of the snow depth since the kids may be standing on a bit of snow...

More Snippets

2010-11-12T20:11:00.012-05:00

(Halloween: Rockhopper Penguin and "A Princess called Cinderella")

Q and I have had a spotty series of Wednesday morning breakfasts out at Kristin's. First we had car logistic problems. Then I got sick. Then Q got sick. But we were back again this Wednesday morning, Kitty tucked under his chin. I think Q was abashed that we weren't the first ones in. He shoots math problems at me, and I shoot them back. Simple addition and subtraction facts up to 12s.

He's absolutely certain that Santa is Mom & Dad, but we are unable to fully discuss the issue since he only brings it up in Noodle's hearing. We're left to vaguely threaten him if he says anything to any other child, but I think we need to schedule a meeting to firmly instill the importance of Not Ruining Santa for his sister. He's gotten quite blase about God as well, which is understandable, but now we need to have a meeting on Not Ruining Religion for other children and Not Getting in Fights.

Lately I've really been doing my homework. Honest. So I've only got bits and pieces of thoughts and nothing linear. But gems fly past me all the time. Today was a gold star day.

As I posted on FB, this morning's Noodle soliloquy was about how cats and people are different. Cats have fur, people have hair. Cats' feet are called paws, we have hands and feet. We walk on two legs, cats walk on three...

Cats are evidently on her mind. Her dessert tonight was chocolate fish (like goldfish crackers, but cookies). She offered Savannah one. I told her that Savannah wasn't really interested, although it was thoughtful of her. "Well, cats sometimes like fish," Noodle pointed out.

This evening, we sat watching a cartoon in which one character pops into the air and flies across the room. Noodle stretches out her arms to catch it.

She's made it into the months of golden threes.

Twittering

2010-10-21T16:54:00.004-05:00

Although, like texting, I have not yet succumbed to twittering, I have to admit most of the time, the interesting notes of my life do come down to small bits.

Just now, for example, Noodle informed me that she and Q were playing 'Cat and Cellar-person.' I haven't the slightest idea what the second half of that means.

Earlier, as she sobbed because she'd been ripped from the warm bosom of her BFF and brought home, Q asked her, "Noodle? Is New York City going through your head a lot?"

My illness of the past few days has left me with a ragged throat, visiting the pharmacy at 8 at night, where the pharmacist was so kind I wanted to hug him and then use him as a prop to drag myself back to my car. I let the kids watch an hour of unsupervised television yesterday (it started with something benign, but I know it didn't end there). Now Q is singing an ad I find so irritating I'm filled with irrational rage every time I hear it. Let that teach me to not be inattentive.

I had hoped this time off from work while my body temperature whipped up and down like a desert on fast forward would give me time to do homework, but I find myself becoming an increasingly passive observer of life. It took me at least an extra 10 seconds to respond to Q's suggestion, "Let's play that you're a bird and I'm a hunter!" (You know that won't end well.) I become winded just walking up the stairs. Forget folding laundry. It's not likely to happen.

On the bright side, we discovered that Noodle can be motivated. She whipped into top speed when we told her we were running late for preschool this morning.

Beginnings

2010-09-20T15:33:00.005-05:00

Noodle has started preschool with a persistent enthusiasm that is endearing and nearly distressing. Every day during breakfast she asks, "Am I going to school today?" Seven days a week, she asks. If the answer is negative, she turns quickly to her next most favorite topic, her new friend. "Can I play at my friend's house today?" We have explained that inviting herself over is not good manners. Noodle is undaunted. "Can my friend come here to play?" This past Sunday, as I was making dinner, Noodle burst into tears, "My friend isn't here!"

Q is settling happily into first grade. We met his new teacher last week, and she seems perfectly lovely and good natured, no doubt a job requirement. He's often tired and is battling with me over whether he can only eat the fun items I pack in his lunch box or whether he must also eat the sandwiches and/or yogurt. My current strategy is to pack only 2 sandwiches and yogurt. In a day or two we'll discuss how if he continues to eat these items, perhaps I'll give him tortilla chips and a granola bar on parole. (Honestly, all food battles seem dangerous to me. I'm the one who will suffer if he chooses not to eat and then has an epic meltdown later. Hopefully he won't figure that out.)

Recently we scored a library book by Dan Yaccarino called Every Friday. It describes Yaccarino's weekly breakfast with his son, a tradition they started when he was 3. Thinking over the matter, I decided, especially with my own classes starting, that it would be really nice to have some dedicated time with each kid individually. So Q and I have been getting up early on Wednesday mornings and trying to sneak out of the house early to have breakfast at Kristin's in Deep River. Q orders a 'dirt bomb'(a sugar and cinnamon muffin) and I get a bagel. We watch the early morning small town traffic and I try to get actual information out of Q. I now know the children whom he sits clustered with in class ("It's not a table, Mom. It's desks pushed together.") and that he gets sweaty and that's "boring." We have discussions on word choices like "boring" versus "annoying."

It's magical. I owe Yaccarino one.

NYC: Q's birthday trip (yes, from June)

2010-06-21T22:06:00.014-05:00

I do know that it is August and Q's birthday is June. I postponed this blog entry when Q got all excited about creating his own blog. See My Adventures. He is planning his next entry on watching the fireworks. That is, the ones he saw back on July 5th. Evidently this delayed posting thing is hereditary.

The birthday trip was another golden day. We took the train from New Haven again. As we walked into the train station, Q began skipping. My heart just swelled up. The kid really knows how to make a treat rewarding.

We've figured out that to enjoy a trip to NYC with a small child, we have to keep our plans very simple. So we had only two objectives for the day: visit the Statue of Liberty, and visit the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park.

We were a little naive, however. When we got to the statue of liberty they were making loud, grumpy announcements. You couldn't get tickets for the crown, they were sold out for the day. Worse, you couldn't get tickets to enter the monument (the lower part of the statue). Most intimidating, there was a frequent announcement that the wait was one and a half hours AFTER buying tickets, before getting on the ferry.

Q still wanted to go.

Q was still lovely, even waiting in line for a remarkable amount of time (perhaps not quite 1.5 hours, but still, a long wait).

When we returned to Castle Clinton, there were acrobats performing in the street. They had a terrific banter, and were pretty impressive. Watching them perform, I realized that in NYC, the typical summer weekday is what I imagine a typical summer weekend day anywhere else. There is no avoiding crowds. NYC is always crowded.

We took the subway to Central Park to look for Alice. We overshot the statue with the expectation that we would walk to find her. We should never walk in Central Park without a map. We walked for a ridiculous amount of time (looking for bathrooms, then Alice), despite the meandering and distance, Q only got upset when he thought we were leaving the park. I'm always awed by Central Park. Despite containing thousands of people at any given time, there is a sacredness and a serenity that is breathtaking in the heart of this huge city.

Finally we did find Alice in Wonderland and her many friends. She's meant for climbing on, and we watched Q and other children swarming over her for probably half an hour.

After Q had his fill of climbing, J sat down in front of Alice, and read another chapter of Alice in Wonderland from his ipod.

Q chose to have dinner in Grand Central Station, but he barely touched his dinner, much to my bewilderment. After all the walking we'd done, I was starving, but Q could barely pay attention to his french fries.

Q loves NYC. He did charming things like put his ear to the ground on a street corner to listen for the subway.

On the subway Q distracted himself by leaning over and watching the young man next to him play a video game on an ipod. Amused the heck out of the random young guy and us.

As a parent, you can have wonderful intentions of making a day special for your children. Actually fulfilling those intentions always feels like a miracle.

Mini Update

2010-06-21T05:44:00.002-05:00

So in honor of Father’s Day, I peeled the whining, fighting, sulking, tantruming children out of the house at 6am (YES BEFORE 6am THIS WAS GOING ON! Sorry for screaming.) J got to sleep till 8:30 or so. They continued to be awful until we went outside a second time and they played in the kiddie pool and with the hose and generally the screaming mostly evolved into good humored screaming. And supportive yells of, “Mom! Noodle pooped!” (in the potty. I’m sure you wondered.)

J was working today, and while I’m sure he would’ve loved to do something with the kids, he was grateful to sleep in. At least past 6:30, when normally he’d have gotten sucked in while I was hopefully out for a run (which I gave up on when Noodle spotted me after I treated Q’s cough with an inhaler).

But this evening, after dinner (lasagna, in honor of the day) and dessert (carrot cake, in honor of the day) J looked wiped. And I could’ve just taken the kids up and started baths and end of day routines. But I dug deep and took the kids out for a puddle splashing walk, which Q loved, and that turned into a trip to the small farm at the end of our road, and feeding the bunnies clover, and walking home on an early summer evening when a nice storm has cooled things off.

Then we did all the normal stuff, although it was so late we didn’t read, and I got caught up in finally doing laundry, and escorting Noodle to various potties (she’s independent in there, but doesn’t want to be all alone on the first or second floor).

And being kind to J led to being the kind of mom to my kids that I want to be more often. Must be karma.

Updates with photos on Potty Training and the new pets coming soon.

First HOT day of summer

2010-05-26T19:49:00.002-05:00

Noodle had her first dentist appointment today. She was GOOD as gold. Q had his first since he was 2. He was also very good. But he's not 3, so that's not quite as impressive. (Although he is a bit wired about being messed with.)

Afterwards, over Q's objections, we went to the nearby beach in Old Saybrook. It was low tide and we walked around looking at the crabs and broken shells and being generally happy on the beach. Some friends turned out to be there with their 3 kids, which was nice.

Noodle wanted to be carried. A Lot. My back is not good right now, so I was aware of it. She was Not Into Wading. Or the muddy sand. But we wandered into an area of hard packed sand/mud and she scampered happily away looking for shells and animal prints, a spot of brilliance in a bright yellow tulle skirt.

Every once in a while I'd look for Q & J. They were almost always hunched over checking out a tidal pool or stream. It was great to see Q do a complete reversal on his attitude.

By the time we got home, the little one was done in. She had near hysterics when we didn't let her snatch a shell from her brother. It was suffocatingly hot upstairs, and she kept getting wound up over small things ("I can't get my dress off!") and calming down only to lose it again ("Q broke my hat!" -she acknowledged it was an accident- and "I don't want to wear a tank top!").

Finally I gave up on getting her to bed quickly, stripped her down and gave her a rinse in the tub. While bathing her, and worrying that the late afternoon sun had possibly fried her skin, I realized it had been a week since her MMR shot and they warned that she might run a fever in a week.

Applied ibuprofen (always cheers up the kids) and she settled into back into sane...

Candles - by Wendy Cope

2010-05-13T06:28:00.003-05:00

Three little candles
On a birthday cake.

Count them very carefully
So there's no mistake.

We counted three and there's no doubt
Now it's time to blow them out.

________

Happy Birthday Happy Nuala.

I'd be embarrassed, but I'm too tired.

2010-05-12T18:45:00.005-05:00

Scrolling through the blog to share pictures with the kids today I had several revelations. Not that I have neglected the blog, I blush whenever I think of it. But first was a revisiting of the fact that I cannot remember anything unless I have written it down, and sometimes not even then. Which is more motivation to blog.

Second, I found entries from when Q had just turned three. He was pushing my buttons constantly. I'd totally forgotten. He's become such a reasonable and easy going child, that I lost all recollection of previous behaviors. As I type this, he's scolding Noodle, "It's not funny! Go to sleep!" She's giggling hysterically at him.

I find this terribly reassuring. While we've recently turned a corner with Noodle, I was beside myself with impatience recently, trying to deal with her behaviors, whining, demanding, etc. In three years, she could be a mellow easy going child too.

Or not. But still, she's three (tomorrow) and I need to remember that threes are just a handful. On the grand scale, she's actually pretty cooperative and has surprising self control.

I'm actually feeling very clever right now. My boss (I have a new job working in a preschool) was giving some instructions for dealing with inappropriate behaviors from one of our kids at school. I realized I could use the same drilling technique with Noodle to avert bad behaviors. So when I really want to make my point with her, we repeat the desired language (eg: "Can I play with that please?") over and over and over. Followed with praise. I modified this with another technique recommended for use with the kids: physical prompts rather than verbal prompts. I'm tired, really really tired, of asking Noodle to say something nicely, or say please. So now, if she forgets, I hold up one finger. She often stops, mid-sentence, calms her voice out of a whine, adds please. If she simply says, "Please" I rotate my finger in a circle to indicate I want the whole sentence.

And it's working. No really. It's working.

I've also gone back to quick implementation of time-outs with the 1-2-3 warning. Usually she just needs a "One" to modify her behavior. She's such a good girl.

Of course, since hitting gets her an automatic time-out, it's hard to warn her ahead of time with that behavior. But I can only be so much of a genius at a time.

Perspective

2009-12-15T07:49:00.002-05:00

Adult friend of family says to Q, "I think you're the apple of your grandma's eye."
Q replies: "Yeah, I think it's my super power."

Hide and Seek

2009-12-13T17:14:00.002-05:00

As I sat down to carve out a little time to myself while the kids played happily together, I was quickly disillusioned.

"Mom? Can you play hide and seek with us? Could you hide with Noodle and seek with Noodle?" Two hopeful faces looked up at me.

Ah.

Noodle and I sit down to count. "1,2,3,4,5...11,15,13,18,19..." I see the first problem.

We go to seek out Q and find him hidden where he'd been hiding not 5 minutes before. Well, that should make things faster.

Now Q counts.

Noodle persuades me to carry her. We hide behind my bed.

Q enters the room. I put my finger over my lips. Noodle calls out, "Here we are!"

Both kids collapse into giggles.

Glorious Moment

2009-12-12T16:10:00.004-05:00

Today as I drove the exhausted Noodle home from lunch with in-laws and friends, she has the nerve to start whining.

You have to understand that I don't believe any child who has a lollypop in their mouth has any right whining.

I explained to Noodle that I cannot understand her, and add the above statement.

There is a little pause.

Noodle very politely uses her best Not Whining voice, "Um, Excuse Me?... I want a blue one."

Although I went on to explain that, again, a) she's fine and b) even if she weren't fine, I do not have a blue lollypop, I relished the moment. The phrase, "Um, Excuse Me?" is pure Q, substantiating my theory that if I can drill manners into Kid 1, my chances of Kid 2 simply absorbing them is excellent.

A Child's Christmas in Chester

2009-12-08T20:13:00.010-05:00

It's traditional in my family to gripe about Christmas: decorating, cleaning, shopping, baking, gift-giving.

Since Q became large enough to have an inkling of what was going on, I have grown decreasingly prone to gripe. He loves it so... So much that when people casually offer me their leftover Christmas decorations, I actually agree cheerfully to take them. Each layer of sentimental adornment on our home escalates Q's pure delight. And how can you resist that?

I realized the other night that in addition to a fairly ridiculous accumulation of decorations hanging heavy on the boughs of our home (Thank you by the way! They look great!), we have an unacknowledged tradition which is entirely my husband's brain child. Since J is being dragged with loud cries of protest into holiday cheer, it was a bit of a surprise when I realized what has developed.

A few years ago, J had a cool idea to recreate a feather Christmas trees (see: Feather Christmas Trees) out of, essentially, sticks with lights strung around them. We stuck it into a large can filled with rocks. My description cannot do it justice.

The next year, J was dissatisfied with simply restoring the little tree to its place in the living room. Much to my disapproval, he disassembled it, and the Frankenstein Tree was restored as a flat Christmas tree to hang on the wall. Cute. No, really. And less work than trying to keep the Feather Tree upright.

This year, J enlisted Q's assistance and they abandoned the sticks altogether.

I think you can see our living room from a block away. And I'm not griping at all.

I had lost the faith

2009-11-30T00:31:00.001-05:00

but I did it. I would weep for joy, but I think I'll go to bed instead.

Apologies

2009-11-22T18:23:00.002-05:00

Apologies to anyone who uses this blog to get their fix on Q and Noodle. I'm trying to finish Nanowrimo this month and blogging is definitely not a good excuse nor a good distraction when I'm ignoring my writing obligations.

That said, the children have some science facts to share.

Q on 11/22/09: "Coprolites are what Scientologists call poop."

Noodle on 11/20/09: "Baby ducklings are made of...duckling."

Photos and commentary will be back in December.

Fairyland

2009-10-29T10:33:00.011-05:00

Last spring, the kids and I were inspired by Tracy Kane's book, "Fairy Houses Everywhere" to create our own little fairy house in the backyard. Although the activity was just one afternoon, the kids had a blast and the house remained, more or less, intact for the rest of the summer.

This fall, we had some terrific luck when the Florence Griswold Museum did an exhibit on Fairy Houses. I wasn't fast enough to get Q signed up for one of their classes on making fairy houses, but Grandma did score us a "Twinkling Twilight Firefly Tour" - an evening tour of the fairy houses.

When Noodle saw our tour guide, her eyes widened. He was a slim man, dressed entirely in black, with black wings. Henceforth she referred to him adoringly as 'The Butterfly Guy' or 'The Fairy Guy.'

Our tour started at 5:30, in the pouring rain. We were in the midst of a cold snap that had dropped the temperature to 35 degrees. The children happily tromped behind the guide, who explained which fairies lived in which houses, and pointed out special features of each. The grown ups whimpered and wished for snow rather than rain.

The next week the temperatures soared into the 50s and we returned with J and discovered that the twilight tour had, by necessity of time, skipped more than half of the houses. An hour and a half wasn't enough time.

The fairy house tour, complete with a 'Do It Yourself' area, whetted Q and J's appetite for architecture and last week they built a loftier fairy house on the foundation of the previous house in our backyard.

As we left home the next day, Noodle pointed to a pile of leaves in the street, "There's a fairy house!"

Fairies

2009-10-12T19:26:00.005-05:00

After a busy weekend with late bedtimes, Noodle is struggling to fall asleep tonight. Even after Q fell asleep, we can hear her chatting away to herself, getting rowdier and rowdier.

I go upstairs to turn off the doggie light and try to settle her down again.

"I want to sleep in your bed!" She claims.

This is highly unlikely. But she's loud enough that I'm concerned she'll wake up Q. I pick her up, turn off most of the lights, and lie down with her in my bed.

She snuggles, just barely wriggling her feet, rolls over. She breathes rapidly and loudly through her pacifier, holding her breath when the furnace kicks in, then breathing regularly again.

We lie companionably for a while. Then she murmurs something. "What?"

"Gook is painting the leaves yellow tonight."

"Gook is painting the leaves yellow?" I ask. Gook is the first imaginary friend to last more than a few hours. Noodle constantly changes her own identity: Dora, Mop, Diego, Boots, Tinkerbell. But Gook seems to be lasting several weeks now.

As if sensing my thoughts, Noodle says, "Gook is Real!"

"Gook is real." I repeat as I carry her back to bed. "Gook is painting the leaves yellow tonight?"

"Gook is painting the leaves yellow tonight."

I kiss her cheek and imagine her dreams filled with fairies.

Call it what it is

2009-10-08T10:30:00.001-05:00

I say to Noodle, "Please stop yelling at me."

She pouts. "Not yelling. It's whining."

Charms

2009-10-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

In a recent post I mentioned that Q got his first library card. What I don't think I touched on was how Q developed a happy little scheme to go with his library card.

Perhaps two weeks ago, Q asks me if Someday we could go to the place where they make cards and get him a library card. "Absolutely." I replied, "Did you know that the place where you get a library card is actually the library? And I think that now that you are 5 years old, you are probably old enough to have your own library card?"

Q is all over this. When we go to get his card, he gets very specific. "Can I put my library card on a key chain?"

Our particular library does not make the small bar code cards that fit on your key chain, so I have to think about this. We agree to ask Miss Linda if we can punch a hole in his library card so he can put it on a key chain. Miss Linda not only agrees, but actually punches a hole for us. Librarians are very helpful.

Q then asks if we can go downtown and get him a keychain. I have a gift certificate, so we head down. He picks out one that is obviously a Halloween themed key chain with a mummy like character (name on the tag is Charlie Ribs, since you can see little wire ribs) with a tiny bell that gives the key chain a happy jingle. Q is thrilled.

The next day Q earned his first token for running and walking. The tokens have a small hole, so he can add it to his key chain.

Last week, Q received a 'Fancy Nancy Treasure Box' from a kind friend. It includes a tiny portrait of Fancy Nancy ready to be made into a pin or necklace. This too is added to the key chain on a safety pin.

Thursday Q comes home from school with FOUR! new tokens for all the running and walking he's done. He's thrilled and manages to lose one before we get home from Grandma's house. After we relocate it, these four get added to the key chain concoction as well.

When I suggest he will need a larger ring for all his tokens, he steals one from my strainer ("I thought you could hang it by the handle instead." He justified.) and loops it through the whole tangle of charms. He hooks it on his shorts, which immediately drop below his knees. The accoutrements of increasing responsibility.

If You Pee Pee on the Potty, Say "Hooray!"

2009-10-01T08:29:00.004-05:00

Noodle has developed a new fun game for naptime and bedtime: strip the diaper.

Sometimes we find her naked. Sometimes she gets stealthy and puts her pants back on, so a quick glance implies she is still diapered.

After a few full bedding changes, we decided that pleading with her to "PLEASE keep your diaper on!" was not working effectively enough and started duct taping her into her diaper. I believe that, with effort, she might be able to get duct taped diapers off, but not when sleepy.

However this implies that she doesn't like having a diaper so much, so we're working on potty training. With absolutely no success. I'm thinking that she's not really interested, she simply wants to take off her diaper. But nonetheless, we've got the little potty set up in the hallway for what is evidently entertainment purposes.

Last night I put her into the bath, only to have her being crying, "I want to sit on the potty!" Okay.

So she sits naked on the potty and I sit next to her and read the entire book of potty songs. Or sing, rather. Then 'The Carrot Seed.' Followed by 'One Sea Horse.' She gets excited at one point and says, "I pooped!" Sadly, no. On to bath time.

After the kids are in bed, J says to me, with all the sentimental fondness of a parent realizing how fast their child is growing up, "I can't believe Noodle is potty training."

I begin to laugh.

"She's not."

*EDIT/UPDATE*
This evening Noodle spent another 20 minutes on the potty as I read to her, hoping in vain for success. Poor child.

"Feelin' Good Mileage Club"

2009-09-21T19:33:00.006-05:00

Last week Q came home with a letter from the PE teacher. Nearly every day brings letters from school, which is bringing out my bad attitude (which is weird, I was totally conforming as a student). But this one caught my interest.

The PE teacher is keeping track of laps done at school. Any mileage of walking, jogging, running or biking done at home can be reported as well. After a certain distance, the kids earn a "colored toe token" (which Q corrects me, "No! It's a TOE-KEN."). All students can earn a "marathon token" after completing 26.2 miles. Ongoing until June 15.

So Wednesday, when I received the notice, I suggest we take action on this and go for a walk. Q walked a whole mile (of a 1.7 mile loop, where's my token?). Kindergartners earn a toe token for each mile. I sent in the note, and he received the first token (Of the class? of the school? it's difficult to get any information out of said kindergartner.) The token joined his library card on his key chain.

Now I'm getting ambitious on his behalf. Saturday there was a local 5k, and beforehand there was a 1 mile fun run. At least one other 5 year old did the fun run, so I realized that perhaps with a little preparation, Q might enjoy running the fun run next year. (The mother of the other 5 year old confided that there was whining all through the race.)

But after my less than stellar performance, someone asked if I was planning another road race soon. I hadn't really been - although I'd like to run the 5 mile race on Thanksgiving - however I take a look and in October there's a race in Higganum, the next town over. And ooooooh! There's a 1/2 mile fun run for kids!

I ask Q if he's interested. Oh yes.

So today we went for our first training run together. After trying the high school track (soccer practice) we end up at the nice ash path at an Essex park. Q is certain he'll be very sweaty, so he didn't bring his shirt with him. We have water bottles and my watch. I'm all but certain that one lap is .25 miles, so we set off.

Q laughed, almost all the way around the lap. Which he finished in a quite respectable 2:10.

I was starting to doubt that it was actually .25 miles, except then he had to walk a good bit of the next lap. (Mind you we're stopping to swig water and boast after each lap.) And he walked a good bit of the third lap, all of the fourth, and some of the fifth. A mile took about 13 minutes or so, but the kid did a very respectable 1.25 miles and giggled a large percent of that.

And when he was walking, he strutted, bare chest thrust out with pride.

The Tantrum, The Thinker and Clothes

2009-09-15T11:51:00.007-05:00

Yesterday all the kindergarten stress came to a head. I thought it would be lovely if we all walked Q to school. And it was lovely. Noodle was in the stroller, we looked at the excavator digging up the water main, we held hands crossing the street.

But then when it was time to leave his backpack and go play, Q didn't want to. And he didn't want to stand with his friends who were standing near the backpacks. When I tried to detach and leave, he clung to my side. I didn't think it was really a problem until we got serious about leaving and he started to wail about staying with me. J took Noodle and walked away and I kept trying to walk away, reassuring him, 'Today after school, we'll go get your library card and we'll make scones.' He was not interested, he wanted to stay with me. I explained that I was going to work. He needed to go to school. I would see him in a few hours. Finally managed (luckily a kindergarten aide was there) to peel him off of me and walk away. He was crying/screaming so loud I could hear him ALL THE WAY HOME. A disadvantage of living close to the school.

They called about 5 minutes later. They'd gotten him into the building, and had taken him to someone's office (the counselor?) and were trying to calm him down with no luck. They asked me what our afternoon plans were so they could reiterate them with him, tried to put me on speaker phone, he covered his ears rather than listen, finally they told me they'd let me know how they made out and we hung up. I guess they managed to get him calmed down and the principal talked to him about the touch a truck event and then walked him to class. They gave me a call to tell me he seemed to be reintegratng just fine...

When I asked later what was up with that, he responded in a fragile voice that he wanted to be with me. I nicely let him know that sometimes I need to be at work and he needs to go to school and that we'll always come back together later. And then I doted on him for ages, taking him to get his library card, and a key chain to hang it on (he'd spotted it earlier at lunch with J who took refuge downtown because we had no water from 9 to 1), cookies and cash and then walked back up the hill. That seemed to be enough because then he went off to play happily by himself rather than helping me with scones (which I think he would've done if he was still feeling fragile).

It's good that he acts out once in a while so that I know he can, but wow.

Other recent stories:

Recently the kids have been allowed to play in the cars, pretending to drive, turning all the buttons and switches and creating havoc. Our motivation is to keep the kids outside where we can watch them, without having to constantly chase them, so that we (and by we, I mostly mean J) can work on painting the house.

After a few of these play sessions, I realized that they were trading jobs. One would be the Driver and the other would be the 'Thinker'. The Thinker is the person sitting in the front passenger seat - perhaps a version of Navigator?

Pulling away from the house with Noodle this morning, she softly says, "Daddy not in Thinker seat."

This morning Noodle was a riot of colors. She wanted to wear her Elmo shirt - a bright red shirt with a pencil drawing of Elmo from Sesame Street. I opened the shorts drawer to grab a pair of jeans and she spots her 'cousin's pants' - bright orange shorts. It was a little cool, so she selected a lavender sweatshirt with a lobster on it and pairs it with her rain boots, which are dark blue with pink ducks. And a brilliant yellow hat. I managed not to giggle hysterically.

But the boots are causing some problems. As I'm shutting the fridge door, she makes an unexpected rush for her sippy cup, trips and bangs her head. When I suggest that her rain boots are tripping her, she is outraged. "No! They're perfect!"

She did, however, concede that they were on the wrong feet.

Self indulgent post

2009-09-11T15:05:00.001-05:00

I walked in to get Noodle after her nap.

"It's you! You came back! You came back!"

Second Week of School

2009-09-08T07:47:00.002-05:00

I walked Q to school today and I'm getting ready to leave him. I ask, "You all set?"

"No."

I squat down, "What do you need?"

"What?"

"I asked if you were all set. That means 'Do you need anything?' If you don't you say, yes. If you need something, let me know... So, are you all set?"

"No." He shakes his head firmly.

"What do you need?"

"A hug." He grins at me.

Then he went to look at the stray lamb.

More from the First Week of the Rest of Kindergarten

2009-09-03T19:08:00.005-05:00

Q seems to enjoy kindergarten just fine. It's hard to peel any information out of him, but that's nothing new.

Today at dinner, I attempted to stimulate conversation. "What was your favorite part of today? Mine was walking with you guys and Daddy to take Q to kindergarten."

Q responded, "I think: kindergarten on the playscape."

I turn to Noodle and ask her for her favorite part of her day.

She replies, "You guys. Come back."

The girl is darn good.

Other amusing lines from today included Q: "Mom, when I grow up I'm going to marry Jack." ("If that's okay with Jack," I replied.)

Noodle in the back garden: "Here worm. I cover you up." She pushes mulch gently onto one of the dozens of worms writhing as they're uncovered by my weeding.

After dinner, complete with ice cream, I attempt to go for a walk with the kids, up the hill and back. Our usual evening walk when we are being usual. Q first tries to defer us to the climber, which I'm tempted by, since he's really, really wired. However, I have this idea he'll run more if we go up the hill, so I persist. Q runs ahead, and then runs back to us. Rinse, repeat. This becomes a problem because Noodle is a genius mimic and when he runs back down the hill, Noodle turns around and runs back down the hill herself. She can run downhill at least twice as fast as she goes uphill, so we're making no progress at all.

Finally I give in and abort the whole mission.

Q throws a tantrum. I take Noodle by the hand and lead her inside as he follows us screaming. I realize that despite the earlier poopy diaper, Noodle is poopy. Q continues to scream and kick, sitting down to get a good momentum going. I take off Noodle's boots and carry her upstairs. Q follows us, putting full lung capacity to use. I begin to change Noodle's diaper. Q screams more.

Finally I tell him I'd like him to go to my room please. This is not a time out. This is because he's totally out of control and needs to be by himself. But he's out of control, so he's not about to follow instructions. I ask Noodle to stay put on the changing table, walk over and pick up Q. I carry him to my bed and shut the door.

Noodle and I finish the diaper catastrophe. (Really I should know better than to give her blueberries, but she loves them so...) I put her in the bath, scrub her up, listen to the faint sounds of Q screaming, wash her hair, and leave her to play while I find a copy of 'Winnie the Pooh'.

I walk into my bedroom and Q is buried under the covers, screaming, "I DON'T WANT TO!!!"

I sit down on the other side of the bed and begin to read aloud. Within five seconds, Q is snuggled up next to me, listening.

The Real First Day of Kindergarten

2009-09-01T19:30:00.004-05:00

Not just the 'Try It' Day, as Q referred to the visiting day last week.

Q was thrilled. He woke up early and cheerful and wanted to get started on the day right away. He fed the cats, picked out a photo to use for Show and Tell from summer, ate breakfast fast, got dressed quickly, chattering the whole time.

The feedback I've managed to squeeze out after the event was that they had Art, which he enjoyed (crayons, not paint) and the teacher read at least one sign to them. (Indications from his book bag are that he had at least one book as well, but he seems to have no recollection of that.) In addition to his usual friends, he remembers at least one other child, who was in preschool with him last year, but in a different class.

He's willing to go back tomorrow, so overall, I'd say a solid success.

Not Quite Q's First Day of Kindergarten

2009-08-31T21:39:00.003-05:00

Q has seemed entirely confident about kindergarten. Why not? He had a grand time in preschool. He'll be with a handful of friends. The school is walking distance from home. He's visited the classroom, read books, tried on his backpack. What more would a kindergartner do to prepare?

Except...well, he isn't sleeping that well. He's been in our room, usually on the spare bed, a lot lately. Last night, he talked his way into our bed, tucked between us. Once there, he explained his bad dream, "There was a motor boat! And no one was driving it!"

A gem.

Later in the wee hours he mumbled to me that we need to clean the living room so that we won't trip on things when it's time to go to kindergarten.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he's a little worried.

Q as the 'Telegram Man'

2009-08-18T16:44:00.002-05:00

I wish I knew who played 'Cheesy'. This makes me laugh and laugh.

Big Day

2009-07-25T09:35:00.006-05:00

I have no idea how to rotate or edit videos. My apologies. That is Q singing his solo from Music Theater Camp. He chose the song ("Two of Us" by the Beatles) and no one seems to hear the same song he does. You'll have to crank the sound way up.

I expected to have a blog entry about how funny and sweet the performance was yesterday (and it was). But the cough that I attributed to a summer cold, and which woke him (and us) early Friday morning with unrelenting hacking turned into a disturbing wheeze in the afternoon. J took them to the pediatrician, then for x-rays at the clinic, then back to the pediatrician and then the pharmacy.

When I got home everyone seemed fine, although a bit jazzed up from all the excitement. The tip off for how stressed Q is physically was that he took a nap, at 5 pm.

J and I left him in Grandma's capable hands, and returned to her looking a bit distressed. Once I sat with him, I understood why. His wheezing sounds like a fireplace bellow. Noisy, shallow, quick breaths. Since he'd taken a late nap, he needed to burn off mental energy, but had no physical energy. We watched the dance routines from an episode of 'So You Think You Can Dance' (cheesy title, great dancing). Q was impressed and asked if he could be on that show some day.

J dosed him with more inhalants and he is considerably better today. The cough is still there. We're still in managing breathing crisis mode for a while. I'm kind of freaked out (especially about the inhalers, which I will need to do solo with Q this evening), but I'm relieved that Q is markedly better. Hopefully since this is the first distinct asthmatic incident, we'll learn how to manage it before school starts.

Assortment of snippets

2009-07-09T06:16:00.002-05:00

Q pet Savannah (the cat) as she balanced on the arm of the glider rocker the other day. "Cats snuggle to say I love you." He informs me. "They have to snuggle because they don't have words. But we have words."

I picked up a bunch of jammies for the kids yesterday. I indulged and got Noodle a 3 piece jammie outfit that includes a tutu. Seriously. Much to my bemusement, the jammies she excitedly chose for last night were the 'car jammies'. Girly, but lots of little cars on them. Cracked me up.

They didn't have many summer jammies for boys, so Q's selection was more limited. (I picked up some for next fall.) He chose to wear the hand me downs left by his cousin. Very sweet.

"When I grow up..."

2009-07-02T14:45:00.002-05:00

Driving home from the library today, Q starts a sentence, "Mommy? When I grow up-"

Q's voice drops. Preparing myself for something I might need to pay close attention to, I quickly roll up the windows to listen.

"...when I grow up, I'm going to wear a pencil behind my ear so I'll always have a pencil when I want to draw something."

Thank goodness. "That seems handy."

"Yeah."

I continue driving.

"And mom? When I grow up, I'm going to marry you."

Awww.

"I love you too."

Birthday Ruminations

2009-06-16T06:01:00.006-05:00

One of the ways in which our slacker parenting style comes out is that we'd rather not do high stakes parties with all the preschool friends and outside friends complete with games and party favors and headaches. I'm sure if we were good parents we'd do this. I just can't drum up any enthusiasm for it at all.

What we did instead was an Adventure. Q has been asking to go to New York City for months. It's less than 2 hours away, so it seems like a reasonable request. But we don't have any real reason to go - other than his little heart's desire. So we planned out a day in New York City: Train, subway, Museum of Natural History, Central Park, back again. In some ways it feels so wasteful. There is so much you can do in the city that to keep to so small an itinerary seems a shame. But more than this would overwhelm all three of us.

So Sunday we left Noodle with Grandma and had an Adventure in the city.

All day long his delight warmed my heart. Entering Grand Central Station, he looked up, awed. "Wow. This is beautiful."

He seemed to enjoy the museum and the dinosaurs, but when you can't yet read much and your grasp on evolution is nonexistent, the museum has a hard time holding your attention. After two hours, he was begging to go to Central Park.

Park means something different to Q. Park means 'playground'. He loved climbing the huge rock we found almost immediately outside the museum, but it took us about twenty minutes of walking to get to the playscape.

On the way he waved to park employees in a small electric vehicle. I heard him say, "Hi!" and looked over to see he was greeting pigeons. We passed a long row of benches with people sitting and Q carefully looked in everyone's face. A bald, older black man stared right back at him, then twitched his eyebrows up and down rapidly, keeping his expression deadpan. Q showed no immediate reaction, but when I cracked up, the man twitched at me as well, a corner of his mouth curling up. Another man simply greeted Q, "Hey, how's it going?" and returned to his cell phone call.

It was totally worth the long walk. After running around the castle like structure for a while, we stripped him down to his underwear to run in the fountains.

It was a really lovely, long day.

Last night we had our birthday picnic. Noodle fell in the water while wading, reminding me that I should never leave home without spare diapers and clothes for her. The kids happily played in the water and sand.

I try to remember that I don't have to do it all perfectly. Q doesn't have to get a birthday party. He can have an Adventure and spend the day actually enjoying our attention all day, rather than our stress over hosting a fleet of preschoolers. It's fine to do it differently.

There is a recent study which determined that children under 2 who watch television get far less adult/child interaction and suffer from language deficits. I read this with pangs of guilt for my toddler, who, due to accident of birth, gets far more television than her older brother ever was exposed to. Look! I thought, she's going to be behind in - wait, language development? Never mind.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that the experts are not always talking to me. The teachers at Q's next school who told us that we should read to our kids and take them to the library, they don't know that I'm a librarian and that Q can sound out words.

They might be experts, but they're not experts on my kid.

Q conversation

2009-06-10T10:02:00.001-05:00

"Noodle, I'm going to make sure your testicles are okay."

Noodle Conversation

2009-06-10T09:31:00.001-05:00

"The log babber gabs logs and puts them in jail!"

(It's unclear whether she said that originally or just started repeating it when Q told her logs don't go to jail.)

Pollywogs

2009-05-24T21:09:00.005-05:00

I've resisted the croc fad. Sandals, especially nice water proof sandals with velcro, are so sturdy and practical for summer, that I felt crocs were redundant. They even seemed impractical. Can you really run and climb in them? There are rumors of crocs trapping feet in escalators. (I've heard the same thing about shoelaces, but that never deterred me. Not to mention that the nearest escalator is probably a 30 minute drive that I rarely make.)

But I've been trying to find some of the sturdy water sandals for Noodle, and I cannot find anything that resembles them. Sandals for toddler girls are flimsy, pretty little things that fall off, trip the kid, and fall apart. Sandals for toddler boys make it clear that it's only the age restriction that prevents this kid from joining the Marines. I just want what we had last year, in a bigger size, and perhaps not black this time. (Those were hand me downs that she loved; they looked just like Q's.)

So I caved. I took the kids to the outlet and managed to direct them away from the brilliant pink crocs long enough for Noodle to spot these. (I believe these are not the 'croc' brand, but called 'pollywogs.') I put them on her and told her to run. I put a pair on Q and told him to match her speed. Hopping, skipping, jumping. They passed the test. And after watching another toddler effectively climb the side of her porch in a pair recently, I'm satisfied they're fine for the playground. I'm still looking for a nice pair of water sandals for Noodle, but I don't feel desperate any more.

...and their obvious enjoyment of the shoes makes me feel my reservations were those of a crank.

Noodle - Sentence of the Day

2009-05-23T19:58:00.003-05:00

Upon being put down for a nap:
"Pacifier. At Night. Fall Out. My Mouth. Far Away."

Not quite a haiku.

Quick Catch Up - but not thorough

2009-05-21T21:54:00.011-05:00

Lately the kids have been doing so many cool things, and I'm not getting it posted in the blog. I'm going to lose track of the progress they make if I don't document it, and that will make me so sad later.

Mother's Day 2009

Today we went up to Kid City, which is free the 3rd Thursday of the month between 5 and 7. We didn't make it there till 6:30. But the kids had a BLAST.

Wandering into one space, sort of made up to be a fortune teller's room: silver ball, dark, mirrors at all different angles on the wall. Noodle says, unprompted, "That's Fan-cy!" I've no idea how she knew it was the right phrase to apply. Her favorite phrase lately is, "That's si-ee-y!" (silly)

Verbally, I think she's wildly precocious. She used the word 'tangled' the other day to describe a pretzel. Today she used the word 'gobbled' correctly. (That's assuming I understood her, which I think I did.) She uses 'I' and 'me' and 'you' often and in reference to the appropriate person. She also uses the third person to refer to herself ("Baby do it!") and other people ("Mommy help?"), but for a 2 year old, she's way ahead of the game. I'm blown away by her long sentences sometimes. Today's masterpiece: "Q's balloon way way up there."

The verbal competence seems to help a lot with her cooperation. We can get her to tell us most of what she needs, and we try to insist on this instead of whining/crying. We understand most of what she says...

Last night she was crying late at night. I went in and asked what she needed/what was wrong. She usually needs her pacifier, but she actually had it for once. She kept repeating something that sounded close to her "pass-i-fy-er" but not quite.

This morning I finally figured it out. She wanted her pirate shirt.

Q performed in his first concert last weekend. I was really looking forward to him singing. The kids were going to sing, then kazoo, then sing. Unfortunately, the kids had never met the kazoos before, and they were so exciting that some children, including Q, forgot about the singing part and kazoo-ed all three verses.

Coming home, Q asked me if I ever wanted to play an instrument. I told him I took piano lessons when I was little. Then I asked if he wanted to play an instrument. He repeated his musical desire, "I think I want to play the French horn." I don't think I had the foggiest idea what a French horn was when I was 5...

Saturday was busy. In addition to the concert and a birthday party (source of the beautiful face painting), we had the start of some serious septic problems. Which were finally resolved Tuesday with the kind assistance of a helpful and adorable excavator:

Q, of course, was thrilled by the septic guys. He and J hung around while they did the exploratory digging to determine the problem, whispering to J that he'd like to get closer to the actual tools, repeating and summarizing how the plumbing and septic system work. Earlier in the week, he'd helped the plumber at Grandma's house find a leak, trekking up and down stairs following Joe (seriously, he's named Joe) and asking questions. Joe offered him a job at the end of the day. His face lit up with pride.

Prelude to a Meltdown

2009-04-18T19:17:00.006-05:00

Today we went to a 'Touch a Truck' event. This was fabulously cool. They had excavators, backhoes, skid steers, ambulances, garbage trucks, big rigs, a fire engine, a school bus, a tractor, fancy tow trucks, dump trucks. Whoa I don't even know all they had.
Q tells me this is a backhoe

So from 10 to 11, we chased little kids who swarmed trucks and tried dismounting without safety nets.
Q's friend driving what Q informed me is a garbage truck

At 11 (the event went till mid afternoon) our kids were done. Noodle was muscling kids out of her way and smearing the EMS lollypop on the Mickey Mouse car's leather seats.

Noodle on a tractor. Pre-lollypop.

The adults were reeling from the sound of big rig horns. We managed to bribe the kids with the promise of pretzels and hit the playground next to the parking lot. They each ate 1.5 pretzels before moving on to the slides and swings, followed by digging for treasure on the beach.

It was a blast. Followed by the inevitable meltdowns and cranky sibling interactions. They crashed hard at bedtime. I love adventures like this, but I'm grateful we don't do them every day.
Q and Noodle on the beach being picturesque.

There and Back Again

2009-04-17T21:27:00.005-05:00

The kids have come home after exhausting the Massachusetts grandparents. Noodle was a champ, appearing to be unworried that her parents were nowhere to be found. Until bedtime, when Q sang her to sleep. Everyone was grateful.

Q was quiet and well behaved and seemingly relieved to come home where he can be naughty again. "Next time," he asked me, "Can you come too, Mommy?"

The break was lovely lovely lovely. Just having a morning or two to wake up at my own speed is incredibly nice.

And having our children snuggle between us as we read bedtime stories, Noodle's curls damp from the bath, Q's hand in mine, that is all more than lovely lovely lovely.

Scrambled Eggs

2009-04-14T21:00:00.004-05:00

Q went to a friend's birthday party last week. Watching him romp, another mom commented, "Have you noticed that Q is being chased by 3 girls?"

I responded, "And loving it?" Q's ideal play date is for his friend KtR to beat him up. And how can the girls resist, when he's so adorable?

Okay. Requisite doting parental moment is over. I promise.

Q loves arts and crafts. Specifically using scissors and paint. Marker is good if he can come up with a good excuse for it to get all over his face and hands. So we painted the eggs for Easter this year. Then when Q was in bed, I dyed them as well. And desperately called J to direct him to the one store still open to bring home candy so Q wouldn't be disappointed. It's a little tricky when they're this age. You know they're likely to be thrilled, but you don't know exactly what they think the holiday entails.

Happily for us, J found candy on his way home from work. We filled plastic eggs with enough chocolate calories to fuel an insurrection. Q, sure enough, bounced through the Easter egg hunt. Noodle took it very seriously. Nearly every photo you can see her thinking, "They're all filled with candy?"

She's kind of amazing these days, using complicated sentences with correct pronouns when she feels like it. I'm stuck in that parenting rut where you wonder how much of your kid really is unique and wildly different from their sibling, and how much is just that parenting robs you of your memory, making each kid's discoveries unique and new.

(Noodle and her Daddy contemplate the spoils.)

The two are off to visit the Concord grandparents tomorrow. Everyone is thrilled - especially the kids. Noodle has been repeating Q, "Grampa L, Granmary, Soon?" The drive to meet them is likely to feel very long.

And I'm going to miss them far more than I can admit.

Writhing with Germs

2009-03-19T18:54:00.011-05:00

Above photo is the epilogue from the previous post. Q saying good night to the finally sleeping Noodle. She fell off that mattress an hour later, without waking up, and was put to bed in her crib. The light of the room is nearly entirely from the camera's flash.

My parents came to visit this past Saturday. This is, for me, always anticipated with excitement and a small sense of dread. I'm going to have to clean. It never fails that this dread keeps me anxious with little productivity until approximately one minute after they arrive. Then we finish what is absolutely crucial (groceries, bed linens) with no worries and forget about all the other grime encrusted parts of my house until their next visit.

Saturday started out well. I got up before the kids woke up and got in a run. But when I returned upstairs for a shower, Q wailed from my spot in my bed, which I had finally yielded to him at 6 am. "I can't open my eye!"

I have inherited my mother's lack of sympathy for illness. Most of the time, I figure that the kid is scamming me. This particular complaint (combined with the fact that he joined us in the middle of the night claiming something was in his eye and I told him that if he shut his eye, his eye would wash it clean) got my attention. I got a wet wash cloth and gently wiped his eye. Funny, but when you see pink eye, it's pretty obvious.

Since Q is riddled with contagion, he is bumped out of his seat for the grandparent pick-up in favor of Noodle. She is good as gold. At lunch, she blatantly flirts with her grandfather and charms everyone with her enthusiasm for noodles with red sauce.

We return home to find Q in his jammies still. I don't get too uptight, although if my husband's parents were coming to visit, I would definitely have the kids out of their jammies by 2:30 pm. The mystery becomes clear when I eventually locate J, sprawled on our bed, close to drooling. It turns out he has lost all track of time while busy fighting a stomach virus. He had bribed Q with one video before passing into the land of misery, and Q had gone feral, without food other than the ample droppings from the kitchen floor. To keep himself busy, he produced this masterpiece in the newly usable, and quite close to finished, downstairs bathroom:

But despite the conjunctivitis and stomach flu and my mother's allergies to cats, the visit went very well. We took a trip on Amtrak to the Mystic Aquarium.

(A repeat of one of Q's absolute favorite adventures ever.)

Noodle wandered happily around saying, "Baby fish! Baby fish! Baby fish!"

Sadly, Noodle is incapable of handling a train ride, plus a trip to the aquarium, without dissolving into hysterics. She had to be removed from a closet sized restaurant when other patrons began suffering from hearing loss.

After Grandma got to watch Noodle's music class on Wednesday, we returned the grandparents to Florida where we got them.

Today, through no fault of the grandparents or themselves, the kids are wiped out and Q is coughing badly. Later in the morning he was diagnosed with an ear infection that I am sure my mother will nod her head with sage recognition, having commented that, "Q just isn't himself."

But before breakfast, I doctored them both with honey and made 'honey tea' from honey and warm water just for Q.

I told him that his honey tea was on the table (he's spending inordinate amounts of time admiring the new bathroom). Sitting down next to Noodle, she informs me in her slow, pausing, language. "I - like - hun-ee - tee."

I begin eating my oatmeal.

She repeats herself: "I - like - hun-ee - tee."

I ignore her hint.

Once again, "I - like - hun-ee - tee."

I try the golden oldie, distraction. "Oh, Noodle! Do you have oatmeal this morning?"

She looks at me reprovingly. "Talkin - 'bout - hun-ee - tee."

Noodle is sad tonight

2009-03-13T19:50:00.005-05:00

Q is out at a play (his first real evening play!) with J. And Noodle, while happy to play with Em instead, is now very, very sad. Sobbing in bed and screaming sad. Exhausted, but heartbroken and not wanting to even try to sleep sad.

Poor Noodle.

Later: I finally persuaded her to fall asleep on a mattress next to Q's bed...

You know there's a problem...

2009-03-12T20:49:00.002-05:00

When you get to Preschool and one of the teachers pulls you inside, holding a backpack, but no Q. "Q's mom? Q is in the nurse's office..."

Evidently Q was wrestling with another child, I hope playfully, when they rolled off the wood chips onto the black top, where Q's head made contact. Loud enough that Miss K heard it. When she asked if she could take a look under his coat's hood, the formerly stoic Q, burst into tears.

When I got there, not long after, Q was in freeze out mode. He'll answer some questions, but only the ones he deems necessary. "What happened?" is not one of them. "Does it hurt?" is always answered with 'no.'

It's funny to me that this is Q's second remarkable head injury at preschool. Third if we count when Miss Wendy hit him in the face with a wiffle ball. In normal home life, injuries are pretty rare. Does he just play harder at preschool? The fact that I find it unusual that my kid has been to the nurse's office 2 times in 2 years perhaps indicates how few injuries we've had to endure.

I don't like to overreact, and Q hates to be messed with. So instead of going to the pediatrician's office right away, we opt to go home, have our scheduled playdate, and see how much blood keeps coming.

Well, at bath time (not the one pictured above, but they all basically look like that), I took a wash cloth and gently checked out the injury with just warm water. Oozy. I decide to call the pediatrician's office before they close. I meant to only ask advice, but they tell me to bring him right in. Armed with jammies, firefighter boots, and bedtime books, we enter the office to find the place deserted. We're seen right away and Quinn gets what they call a 'Glue-it' - basically a bit of something like glue that seals the injury shut. Like stitches, without any. Nifty. Q is good as gold. He moves back into freeze out mode, but cooperates.

On the way home, he asks me, "Mom, why do they ring the bell and say, 'All hands on deck!' at Trader Joe's?"

More and more we see a bond between the kids that we're just in awe of. Tuesday night we settled in to read bedtime stories. Q snuggles under the covers and says to Noodle, "Noodle, do you want to sit here next to me?" Ohhhh yes. She ditches her usual throne (the lap of the reader) and joins Q under the covers.

Photo Sampler: February Vacation Week

2009-02-21T20:29:00.006-05:00

They are genuinely this sweet. It's crazy. Good thing it's not constant or I'd suspect their father of drugging them.

This past week was February Vacation Week. In Florida they don't get a week off randomly in February. Here in Connecticut, everyone who can afford to take time off, goes to Florida this week. In Florida, they don't need a week off to go to Connecticut in February. It all makes sense now.

Since we weren't going to Florida, we decided to sign Q up for 'Circus Camp' at his gymnastics school. Nine to twelve each morning, they did fun things like this:

The boy has slept hard.

Wednesday, while Q was playing at Circus Camp, Noodle had her second professional haircut. As you can see in the top photo, she was looking a little shaggy. I was expecting some trouble, but here we go:

And twenty m&ms later, we're done:

I'm already missing the shag.

In this photo you can see the top of her boots. She wears these every time we leave the house, and about 50% of the time she's inside the house. If I mention that we're going somewhere, she gets all excited. "BOOTS!" she says, and takes off for the kitchen where I put the boots after I've tripped over them.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-12T10:58:00.008-05:00

Every once in a while I realize that the true genius of preschool teachers is that they work a little bit on a project every day for weeks. Q comes home with amazing crafts, but what I don't realize is how many days it took to finish the project.

I didn't start early enough.

Tuesday night I drew hearts (folded paper so that each side would come out as a mirror of the other) and Q cut them out. I cut out the 'card' part. It was really difficult for Q to stay on task and keep cutting until there were enough hearts (and he was doing two at a time). That should have been the tip off for me.

But in addition to Valentines, I'd also promised Q, and then his teacher, that we'd bring cookies to school on Valentine's Day. (Or rather, Thursday, since there's no school for him on Friday). So we have a serious deadline ahead for 12 valentines, plus 3 teachers, plus thematic cookies.

And I'd like to say now, in case I ever consider this again, perhaps it was too much work in a short amount of time. Perhaps in the future we can start making Valentines as soon as we are done writing thank you notes from Christmas.

We started out great: writing names on the front, gluing hearts on, putting stamps on the inside (they're gingerbread men and snowmen, but Q doesn't care) and having Q write 'from Q'. He adjusted that to 'love' at least once. And 'frve' another time. At least I'm smart enough to let that go. But then Q started to rebel. He was tired. It's hard to write that much, even if Mom tells you what letter comes next. Then the glue stick was exhausting. He had lots of energy for the stamping though. He was delighted to discover that if he stamped first in red, then in blue, he got purple! "They're going to love these valentines." He says this in his soft lovey voice he uses most often when he's talking about his beloved kitty, "Kitty is a newborn kitty. I'm nursing kitty."

Okay. So we keep plowing ahead. I am now writing the names on the front, Q stamps the inside, writes his name, I put glue on the front and Q picks out one of the hearts he cut before and puts that on the front. Done. Again. Exhausting.

But I'm not giving you the full experience. While this is going on, Noodle is going feral. She has discovered Q's craft box and pulled out the crayons. I hand her a piece of paper. She looks at it once, takes the crayons and disappears. I can't pay attention because I have to keep Q on task and keep feeding him letters. "Done!" he declares. I look. Half his name is missing. Try again.

Noodle tries to steal the glue stick. I rescue it. I try to distract her with an unneeded stamp. "NOOOOO!" she screams, standing on the chair next to me, leaning as far into the table as possible, precariously balanced on the edge. I scoot the chair in, and now she's got a sturdy surface from which she tries to steal the scissors. I try to distract her with colored paper and chalk. She is momentarily engaged and I continue to try to keep Q on task. "What color do you think Jack should have?"

We're getting there. More than halfway through the valentines. Noodle is scattering items from the craft box around the room. She happily climbs onto a comfy chair, clutching the ziplock baggie of crayons. She dumps these into the chair, where they roll into the crevasses. I stay focused on Q. Sometimes you accept that your couch will fall to friendly fire.

Noodle leans off the chair to peer at a crayon that has fallen to the floor. The cushion tips her off and she lands on her head with a thud. Ooops. Switch kids. I hold the exhausted Noodle as she sobs. Did I mention that it's after 6 pm and the kids are usually in the tub by now? I call for back up. J emerges from the den looking confused.

I put J in charge of the valentines, direct him to the list of children's names and say Q can tell him how they're made. I take Noodle upstairs for her bath. Q talks J into letting him add glitter to all the valentines. Have I mentioned that the floor under the table is now a melange of crayons, chalk, scraps of paper Noodle stole from the trash, k'nex (they're like legos) and toddler crumbs? (Toddler crumbs are much larger than preschool crumbs. Toddler crumbs are how toddlers store food for future snacking.) Add glitter to that mix.

Somehow it all gets done. Noodle is bathed. The valentines are made, except of course the ones for the teachers which I forgot to mention to J. Q is in his jammies, and everyone collapses on our bed for book time. Noodle insists on "lie-barry" books. J, unhindered by a head cold, reads most of the stories. We tuck the kids in bed.

Downstairs again, I find myself comparatively relaxed as I frost the cookies that J and Q mixed, and J cut into the shape of hearts while Q played k'nex (much to everyone's relief). As I switch between pink and lavender frosting, I realize this kind of stress is crazy and I wonder if I'm going to lose my slacker mom status. Then I see the debris under the table and I realize I have nothing to worry about.

Can't Keep Up

2009-02-09T06:54:00.003-05:00

Noodle is adding words too fast to keep track now. She's combining words into two word combinations and is very pleased with herself: "Kitty drush?"
"Kitty cat?" I ask.
"Kitty drush?"
Wait a minute - she's in the bathroom... "You want your kitty tooth brush?"
"Yesh."

But yesterday she added (among others) two words that made me smile. Bunny - which sounds like "dunny". She confirms you're understanding her by adding, "hop hop hop."

And really amusing, she opened our copy of "Knuffle Bunny Too" turned to the last page and said, "Epilogue!" (not that clearly)

Evidently that word made an impression.

"More more more!" said the baby

2009-02-05T13:27:00.002-05:00

Today Noodle was 'helping' me unload the dishwasher. She pulled out the white bowl that Q wants his oatmeal in each morning.

"King." She starts to wander around the kitchen. "King."

"Is that Quinn's bowl?" I ask.

"Yesssh!" She's delighted with me.

Although we'd gotten an attempt at his name a few days ago, she hadn't repeated it until today. I drew Quinn's attention to her, "She's saying your name!"

"I don't want her to!"

Ah well.

Practice Practice Practice.

2009-02-04T08:23:00.004-05:00

Last night we had dinner with Grandma Sue. Lovely. As we were leaving, she offered Q her fashionable dark glasses from her recent eye appointment. Q was thrilled. So thrilled in fact, that when he got home (Grandma Sue stop reading until at least Thursday) he told J he wanted to write Grandma a thank you note.

So evidently the Thank You Notes Lesson from the Christmas season stuck. I'm thrilled and amused.

He's a funny little kid. We see signs of him getting older and more competitive ("I'm first!" he says at the top of the stairs) but he's still also just a generous little guy. We were discussing shoveling this morning, one of Q's favorite activities lately. We have a couple of inches to clear away.

Noodle gets excited and manages to say, "Baby ho-VEL!"

We assure her that she can shovel too.

Then Q says, "Noodle can help shovel. She's a very good helper."

New word updates, and words I'd forgotten:

cack-a (cracker)
ho-vel (shovel)
previously she had 'nana' for hungry, but yesterday she came out with 'hunny' which threw us off for a while.
dink (drink)
cah (car)

Yesterday she also did a lesson in possessives: Daddy Nose. Mommy Nose. Daddy cah. Mommy cah.
It's like she now actually can hear us when we talk. Just an amazing process.

ALSO! I forgot:

brella (umbrella)
an-mul (animal)

Little Updates

2009-02-01T12:04:00.004-05:00

New Noodle Words:
Owl = Water
Owl = Owl
Gonga = Grandma
Tash = Trash
Tuh-tull = Turtle
Muk = Milk
Taol = Towel
Hanna = Savannah (the cat)
Rahly = Raleigh (the cat)
'anna = Joanna
George = Curious George (guess who's addicted)
Qin = Quinn (!)

She's also singing, in tune, "A-B-C -D-mumble, mumble, mumble..." (ending wanders a bit).

Behind me, Q is singing a pop song, "Ohhh, we belong together! Like traffic and weather, like traffic and weather."

Huge News

2009-01-29T00:05:00.003-05:00

Monday night, I sat down with Q and a handful of beginning reader books. These are called 'BOB' books. Several boxes of very simple skill sets. Q and I look at one and I read a sentence. Then I ask him if he can read the next one. Three letter words or less, usually sentences of five words or less.

And Q does it. He READS.

I'm beside myself with excitement and delight. And yet I find that I'm checking myself. I don't want to boast that Q is reading when most of his peers aren't yet. (And, let's be honest, he read a few sentences and has since then shown no interest in repeating the event, perhaps because I'm making such a big deal about it.)

But this isn't about me boasting. This is about Q doing something really so cool that no matter how old your kid is when they begin to read, you really ought to be excited and thrilled.

And oh, baby, am I.

The Big Day of Trains

2009-01-24T21:38:00.011-05:00

Today Q and I went to the Amherst Railway Society's Railroad Hobby Show. Q had a blast with his friend "Peter."* (*Not his real name.)

After a rough start that included several meltdowns, all my kid, which I initially feared were a result of illness and envisioned puking on my shoes, or maybe onto an expensive model train, Q ate two bags of cookies and rallied.

I was cautioned by Steve Cryon, a local model train expert, to bring along a sturdy bucket for Q to stand on. This was genius. Q and Peter happily lugged their buckets from train layout to train layout for hours. I wish I were kidding. Peter's mother and I trailed behind and did minor herding, trying not to yawn too obviously.

Don't get me wrong. These train layouts and displays are seriously cool. But I was satisfied after an hour. Not to mention that from late November till February, we have a train layout at the local The Connecticut River Museum (by Steve Cryon mentioned above) that is incredibly detailed and cool.

It was a minor miracle that no one flipped out when we left, but perhaps the promise of lunch (at 1:30) was enticing enough to allow for the graceful exit.

Peter's mom and I feel that we must have earned the equivalent of a Boy Scout badge in Motherhood: Good Mom's Club - Model Train Badge.

After putting the kids to bed tonight, I collapsed on my own, rousing only to yell, "Shake it off!" when Q appealed that he was, "Having a Bad Dream!"

And this is what Noodle did today with Grandma: Baby Lambs.

I'm seriously jealous.

The Cold Brave Winter

2009-01-23T17:33:00.008-05:00

Noodle is popping out words like crazy. Today's included "potty!" as she patted the one hanging out in my sewing room. She kept talking about Elmo all down the stairs, causing me some distress (she doesn't watch that much Sesame Street does she?) until she was settled in for breakfast and I finally figured out what the little alien was talking about: oatmeal. We also got 'applesauce' at breakfast, clearly enough for me to understand on the first try. ('apasauce' ) My absolute favorite, which she says in reciprocation, if I say, "love you" she replies, "ov ooo."

This week I made the mistake of trying to explain how radios work to Q. Which led to (I believe in this order) satellites, cell phones, gravity and how the earth orbits the sun. Poor child. No telling what he thinks now. Next time I think I'll stick to, "It's magic!" Which is about as comprehensible as what I was telling him.

Tomorrow I am braving the world of train hobby shows. This might be a serious mistake. I'm feeling seriously fortunate because a friend has agreed to join me with her own 4-year-old. I was told to bring a bucket for Q to stand on. The timing was excellent. Noodle is getting Grandma all to herself, as well as a trip to see baby lambs. I am wondering why I am not going to see the baby lambs.

LATE NIGHT ADDENDUM TO THIS POST:
Shortly after I posted this, Noodle decided that she wasn't done for the night, she casually handed over four new words like she'd been trying them for months: bear, bottle (like empty soda bottles), lid (yes, odd, eh?), and hand. I know I've tried to get her to say bear before with no success, but the others seem especially odd. Not like 'emenems' which she picked up with the obvious positive reinforcement over the weekend. It just feels so strange, like someone figured out where the switch was and now she can talk.

Oh, and she has 2 to 3 canines finally cutting through her gums, after months of effort and waking me up. A relief for us both.

Mortality

2009-01-07T09:32:00.002-05:00

Recently Q has been asking about death. I think the first questions came up when we read 'The Story of Jonah,' illustrated by Peter Spier. However, I'm sure the topic would have arisen soon anyways, since (unfortunately) Q is starting to pay attention to adult conversation. Overhearing me mention that C's mother and S's grandfather died this past year sparked another flurry of questions.

We've been over the subject in a fairly cursory manner, about what we think is appropriate for a four year old. He returns to the topic when I'm least expecting it, causing me panic attacks.

"Mommy, when will you die?" A pop quiz in the car this time.

I answer calmly, "We hope not till I'm very old, honey."

"About twenty years." J mutters from the driver's seat. "Shut up." I reply.

"A hundred years from now?"

"That would be a long time, but maybe a little too long." I reply. "I hope not till you are grown up with children of your own."

"About twenty years." J quips again. "Shut up." I reply.

Although I know there's simply curiosity behind it, the most unnerving are questions like, "Mommy, when will Noodle die? When will I die?"

My reaction is out of proportion to the questions. I see ghostly visions when he asks, as if to talk about death with a child is to invite Death to dinner. That-which-should-not-be-spoken-of.

Q is searching for something with his questions. Not necessarily ages or dates, but the answer to a question he doesn't quite understand well enough to ask, and I don't understand well enough to answer.

The First? Annual? Cookie Decorating Party

2009-01-03T19:39:00.004-05:00

First of all, I baked too many cookies. I knew that the actual number of cookies to child ratio was unnecessarily high. But I couldn't stop myself. Especially after I softened the butter.

Then I made too much frosting. There's logic here. Really. If you make that many cookies, you're going to want enough frosting for them all.

This is after the initial mistake, which was inviting too many children, all of whom (well, except for the twins) had younger siblings who were very likely to come as well. After all, I do have two kids of my own, and the younger one is close to the same age as all the other siblings. The total potential number of children: 16. Mind you, we've never done the 'easy' birthday thing with inviting the number of kids of your child's age plus one. But well, I mean, all these kids needed to be invited. Or at least their moms did.

Then there was the disastrous week of illness which required a postponement of the party.

So there was a little psychological pressure to not screw it up further.

And if we assess the success of the party by how many children actually decorated cookies (almost all of them), or by how long any of them spent decorating cookies (Noodle got the record, spending approximately 30 minutes with cookies, frosting, and m&ms at the table, and somewhat reliable witnesses claiming that she was really decorating the cookies), we held a decent party.

But I like other measurements, like how many children cried when it was time to go: at least three. Or whether the children managed to 'mingle' amongst themselves (yes!). Or whether the adults had to constantly monitor every room (no!). And, lovely to experience, whether the adults got to enjoy themselves (yes!).

Final measurement - would I do it again? Yes. But someone needs to take photos. All that cleaning should be documented, as well as its demise.

Clean Baby

2009-01-02T09:26:00.003-05:00

Last night we were at Grandma's for dinner and when we came home we did an abbreviated bedtime - no bath for the kids. So this morning, no surprise, as I'm nibbling on Noodle's toes I notice that they're a wee bit stinky. (Who knew she used her feet so much?) After breakfast I gave her a quick little bath and let her play some in the tub, then bundled her into a warm towel, let her toddle around, got clothes on her, read her a couple of books, slipped her feet into socks while she protested.

When her copper hair is freshly washed, the back curls up into ringlets. Having straight hair myself, I take serious delight in this. But more than just my vanity in her curls, getting a chance to savor a clean baby is a physical joy. The skin is so soft, hair smells of baby shampoo, newly diapered butts settling into your lap with a little paper thump. I nestle my nose into Noodle's curls and breathe in, relishing the moment and stretching it out as long as I can.

Noodle Attempts to Communicate with Aliens

2008-12-27T08:04:00.001-05:00

This afternoon, Noodle carefully took my finger, stuck it into her mouth, and bit down. HARD. So, for future reference, if this kid is all snuggly with you, and tries to take your finger, I'd advise you to maintain possession.

She's been quirky lately. Mostly this takes the form of waking up very early (say, 5:30 am on Christmas) and yelling for comfort. I fetch her, bring her to bed with me, try to help her fall back to sleep, and instead she wants to practice. Primarily her newly learned baby signs and her words. This morning, in pitch dark, she demonstrated the sign for 'help' (too complicated to explain succinctly) and says, "Hep!" Then "baby" (as if rocking a baby in her arms). Then Daddy. The sign for Daddy is to take your outspread hand and gently touch your thumb to your forehead. (It looks like a sign made up by someone making fun of people doing baby signs.) Noodle does the sign for Daddy by rubbing her hand on top of her head. Luckily she combines this with the word, "Daddy," which is kind of a tip off for the uninitiated.

Other fun things include insisting that she's hungry (she uses the sound 'Na-na') and then refusing to eat. I'm starting to suspect that she wants a pictorial menu so she can point to her selection for this meal. Instead I resort to sitting next to her and running down today's specials: "Would you like some oatmeal?" "Veggie sausages?" "A cookie?" (The answer to the last is always yes.)

Today she ate all her blueberries and then asked for more. She cleared out all the blueberries on my plate. Then on Grandma's plate, including the one Nuala could see but Grandma couldn't, by yelling, "Mo!" until we cleared up the matter. Then Daddy's plate and the fruit salad bowl. She kept insisting there were more blueberries in the house until we tipped the bowl for her to examine. "All gone!" We told her firmly. She finally accepts this with the word: "Ahk On." Which was the incomprehensible word she was practicing at 5:30 on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-25T19:32:00.008-05:00

Today was lovely. Four and a half is evidently the perfect age to celebrate Christmas. Q was thrilled because, "Santa Did come to our house!" (Never mind that Santa fills his stocking with toothpaste and office supplies.) He said lovely things like, "That's just what I wanted!" and "I think I should wear that (butterfly wings) for several days." He managed to almost not get overwhelmed and stay barely within calm when he really was desperate to open some presents.

Once rewarded with a present, he usually played with it, which is a happy moment on Christmas, in my opinion. Here you see him reading with Daddy right after opening a present...

Then wanting to be read to instead of eating brunch...

And now giving up on us to go read on his own...

Noodle had no problem with eating over presents:

But the umbrella was such a big hit we had to remove it so no one would get injured.

And me? I really felt the joy in creating a magical moment in my children's lives. It was a really lovely, quiet day and we were all together. Couldn't have asked for a better Christmas.

Quick additions

2008-12-17T08:37:00.002-05:00

Q is now sick. Fa la la la la la la la la.

Sitting on our bed this morning, he made one of his typical statements: "When Noodle is twenty, I'll be twenty-three."

What was somewhat surprising, was that usually he states that as a question: "When Noodle is twenty, how old will I be?"

J and I exchange looks.

J asks him, "Hey Q, when you are twenty, how old will Noodle be?"

A pause. "Seventeen."

My eyes bug out.

He then goes on to recite one of his current favorite books in his favored current style: operetta.

Germs

2008-12-16T21:11:00.003-05:00

We got our first snowfall of the year last week.

And over the weekend Noodle was smitten with her first ever gastro-intestinal bug. I had forgotten how absolutely disastrous these are for toddlers. Diapers are no match. Our usually cheerful Noodle is miserable: cranky and exhausted. After her much needed naps, she rouses in a beautiful and cuddly mood. And if you are really unlucky, you cuddle her at the wrong moment and find yourself requiring decontamination even as you attempt to comfort and cleanse the little one.

It's been fun.

We've been trying to prepare for what could be the first Annual Cookie Decorating Party. I was planning to spend last weekend scouring and reorganizing my kitchen in preparation. However, since I also had the GI bug (mine was done within 24 hours, toddlers have trouble shaking these things), well, I barely managed to do the usual seven loads of laundry. There are still baskets to be put away.

The good news for my dignity and my desire to have a relatively clean house for the invasion of 9 preschoolers and their siblings, is that a) my standards are pretty low and b) I have Friday off to clean too. The overall bad news is that if Q gets sick, or if Noodle doesn't get better, the whole ACDP will have to at least be delayed, if not cancelled.

I dread the look on Q's face if this happens. He's been counting the days on his Advent Calendar and the 20th is clearly embedded in his head. Oh for the easy days when he couldn't foresee more than a day ahead...

Hard Lessons and Consequences

2008-12-07T19:52:00.001-05:00

Sad tonight.

Q loves scissors. He’s just reached the point where his fine motor skills make it possible to cut shapes, however clumsily. He got to use his scissors yesterday and came up with some excuse to use them today.

We were having a low key day and Noodle was napping, so I didn’t pay much attention. I determined that he did not want to learn how to make snowflakes, left him with the paper and his scissors and went about my own business.

Sometime during the afternoon, he took the scissors to a couple of books. Not severely. Luckily, each time it was to the final pages of a book, and fairly easily repaired with tape. However one of those books was a library book, much to my horror.

To add to the incident, Q then claimed he didn’t know what had happened.

Initially I thought perhaps Noodle had an opportunity to do the cutting, but taking a look at the damage, we realized only deft little fingers could have accomplished the work.

So the consequences: scissors are off limits for a while. (Undetermined, but my guess is that there won’t be unsupervised cutting for a few months.) And for the lying, which we gave him a few chances to back out of, down to the point of reminding him of a story he knows about someone lying, well the consequences for lying was that there was no booktime for Q.

Salt to the wound was that something got in his eyes right before bathtime (which he was hoping to avoid anyways). So he was sobbing over multiple indignities (beads removed from his custody, the eye pain, the bath issue, the scrubbing of his body) and then the news of no booktime kind of finished off the night with screaming sobs.

It might have been a mercy, actually. He fell asleep so fast that the crying might have helped him push through exhaustion into sleep.

Musical Babies and Miscellaneous Catch Up

2008-12-05T19:17:00.007-05:00

He needed help to get back out. Flashback for me to when he was two and got upset when we started to remove it from the house. Back then he didn't want to use it, but it was his and he wanted it to stay.

Have I mentioned that Noodle knows that musical notation is for music? Keep in mind she's, what 18 months? Yesterday I caught her looking at a copy of 'The Night Before Christmas'. This particular edition has the words and music for both "Deck the Halls" and "Jingle Bells" on the back pages. Squatting on her haunches, the book spread open on the floor in front of her, Noodle hums a recognizable tune: A-B-C-D-E-F-G....

Often Q will sing to Noodle after we put the kids to bed, especially if Noodle is fussing. The other night we had the unusual circumstance of Q being inconsolable at bedtime (I refused to let him take a rope to bed with him). Over the intercom I could hear him wailing away. Faintly there came another sound: Noodle trying to sing to him.

Wednesday there is no preschool, so both kids have class at the Community Music School. They have both taken classes pretty consistently there since they were babies. Obviously, in Noodle's case, it hasn't been that long. The classes for babies and toddlers remind me of the story times I used to do for the same age: very chaotic, fun, and fast moving since no one has an attention span of more than a few minutes. It's a blast to watch and the kids get a kick out of it. Q being a Boy of Structure, really thrives in classes. The last few weeks he's had to go as a big brother along to Noodle's class (adults required), immediately followed by his own class (solo class). He stays focused and involved the whole time. It's kind of amazing and delightful.

Picking the kids up from Grandma's the other day, I was dawdling. Hearing a musical piece I asked Q, "Is that a flute?" (I thought it was an easy question.) "No." He says this confidently. Hardly worth answering. It was, after all, an easy question. "Is it a piccolo?" "Yes." I look at Grandma (the musician) for confirmation. Quiet nod from her. Well then.

Picking up on an opportunity to use positive peer pressure, two weeks before Thanksgiving, we signed Q up for gymnastics. I scoped the place out beforehand, catching a class in session. As we watch, Q whispers something to me. I bend down. "Can I try it, Mom?" He is, unsurprisingly, loving it. The unintended consequence is that he is bouncier than before.

Below is a photo of Noodle with my friend's son (13 months, several pounds heavier than Noodle) on Thanksgiving. Both needed naps, but didn't fall asleep till we were nearly home.

Logic for Toddlers

2008-11-16T19:38:00.004-05:00

A few months ago we bought some 'Annie's Cinnamon Bunnies'. These are small cookies in the shape of, well, yes, bunnies. Cinnamon flavored. To amuse myself, and Noodle, I moved one in a bouncing pattern, saying, "Hop, hop, hop."

Noodle was delighted and learned the word 'hop'. One of the few vocabulary words that she has bothered to retain after learning. She even bounced her bunny cookie as she said it.

So we returned to conventional animal cookies a few weeks later. Noodle caught my eye and held up her animal. I couldn't identify it. (Low quality animal crackers are a little identity challenged, and they don't taste as good.) She bounced it up and down and grinned at me. "Hop, hop, hop." I found this pretty funny and no doubt egged it on.

Now we have the next logical step.

Q and I made chocolate chip cookies on Saturday. This evening, Noodle got one after dinner. She holds it up and catches my eye. "Hop, hop, hop!"

Parenting Pop Quiz

2008-11-12T19:37:00.006-05:00

Today, in a largely futile attempt to give Noodle a longer nap, I went to the mall with a friend. Noodle, of course, woke up as we left her driveway. Thirty minutes tops. (sigh)

In any case, Q loved the idea because the mall is filled with machines. Shortly after we arrived, he politely asks, "Do you think there's a room that can fit two strollers to bring us up to the other floor?" Evidently he'd forgotten the word 'Elevator'. So we found him an elevator, and four separate reasons to use it.

After our usual twenty minute potty break in the family bathrooms (thank you to the god of malls for that invention), we decide a snack is in order. The Starbucks is located in a sunken area, so we proceed with the strollers towards snack heaven. And then I spot him.

Santa.

I balked, terror on my face. We haven't discussed Santa much. Q is totally into the concept of Santa. Totally into the idea of Santa coming on Christmas. But we just had a geography lesson yesterday on where Santa lives (Q thought he lived in New York City, which really does seem reasonable), so why would Santa be in a mall?

My friend Cynthia does not realize the extent or reason of my panic. Her only child is Noodle's age. She has yet to navigate this minefield.

So I plunge ahead into the pop quiz. Carpe diem. We stroller down to the Starbucks area, right past where one of the best looking Santas I've ever seen is discussing Christmas with children, monitored by bored photographers.

As we get into line, Q says, in his secretive voice, the one used for special and wonderful things, "Hey, there's a man dressed like Santa over there."

We went over to investigate after eating a snack. The area has a Polar Express theme, but it's not that magical, in my opinion. Q is intrigued by the fake snow on the floor and wants a closer look. But he is absolutely certain that it's not Santa. It's just not. I don't know how he knows.

Here Noodle attempts to sit in Q's lap. She wants him to read to her. I found her trust that he could read to her very endearing. He found it mildly annoying, although also amusing.

Q insisted that we should go outside so I could take photos of them in their winter jackets. Although it was only mildly chilly, I popped them into their coats to see if the hand-me-downs fit. Today Q managed to get into Noodle's jacket, so I guess there might be more room than there appears to be.

Ridiculously Sweet

2008-11-02T20:17:00.003-05:00

Noodle's singing seems to manifest consistently on stairs. J thinks it might be an attempt at 'The Syncopated Clock', which I don't recall. All I come up with is 'Grandfather's Clock', which also might work.

After bedtime last night, I heard her chirping away at her little song, followed by Q singing her lullabies.

His devotion is well paid.

Yesterday she climbed up on the couch, then elaborately tried to climb into his lap for him to read to her. He wasn't sure how to take this, since she was preventing him from looking at his book.

Recently (this past week, actually) Noodle has started allowing me to hold her hand without arguing. (The explanation that if she doesn't hold my hand she'll be carried actually seemed to make an impression.) Today, walking over rough ground, she even asked me to hold her hand, which surprised me. But when Q got close enough, she switched allegiances and begged him to hold her hand. It took a little tutoring to explain how to hold the hand of someone smaller, but we sorted it out. As they set out, she looked up at him with pure delighted adoration.

I'm splashing you!

2008-10-31T20:02:00.004-05:00

Despite some reluctance to wear his costume to humor me for demonstrating that it fit or for the benefit of his father, who wasn't able to attend either trick or treating or the school parade, Q not only wore his costume, but enjoyed pretending he could splash with his trunk. He was a bit hit. And everyone asked if I made the costume. No. It was a gift to me so that I didn't spend days or weeks attempting to create an elephant costume only to have the neighbors ask what he was. And, for the record, elephant was his own idea.

Noodle was her usual happy go lucky self, oblivious of her costume. She got into carrying her own bag and refused to ride in the wagon more than twice and melted down hard once (she wanted to see Jake, her favorite dog on the street, whose owners were politely containing him).

Q really enjoyed handing candy out to the trick or treaters and was allowed to stay up till 8:30 to help. Noodle was unsuccessfully launched into bedtime and had to be rediapered, brought downstairs to help with trick or treaters, and sung to before attempting the second launching. She was out cold by the time I brought up the exhausted Q.

Miraculously, I think I kept the candy consumption down to 2 'fun' size portions for Q and one for Noodle. If only I had the same discipline for myself.

Long Day in New London

2008-10-26T19:41:00.005-05:00

On I-95 this evening, Q repeated his newest trick- identifying the word 'GAS' on a highway sign. I was thrilled. He did it again. I praised him highly. Then he tried it with a sign without 'GAS' on it. Can't blame him for trying.

Noodle, who just said the word, "go" for the first time yesterday, launched into a clear two word phrase for me: "dog go" to refer to the book, "Go dog go" which she wanted me to read. Speaking of thrilled. I immediately rewarded that request. Earlier in the morning she had even come out with animal noises for a rooster and a duck, which I'd never heard before. She did not want to repeat the feat at bedtime. Animal noises are hard. You need a good night's sleep to do them justice.

Noodle, Q and I drove up to New London so J could show off the kids, oh, and to furnish him with his contact lenses. But because of the odd schedules of little kids, we ended up arriving about 3 hours before it was actually possible to see J. So we walked with the stroller to check out the docks, the train station, a coffee shop for dinner makings (ie. muffins, a little stale). Then, after discovering that the train station bathrooms were only open to those with train tickets, we rushed back to the car, and drove to Waterford where there is a Target, complete with flushing toilets. We returned to the theatre, and discovered we still were half an hour early. So we walked to the train station again, this time with Noodle on foot- several long blocks. She attempted to throw a tantrum over having to hold my hand, then, weirdly, conceded the point. On the way back, she started a happy little burbly song, which she revived for J's benefit as she climbed the stairs in the theatre. The words consist of 'da-DA-da-DA-da-DA-da'. I think someone misses her daddy...

Both kids simply stood still and stared in amazement at the bagpiper from the play. It is an impressive noise. We stayed to watch J and a handful of actors rehearse a fight scene involving a lot of swords and dying. I kept whispering that it was pretend, but I'm not sure what Q would've thought. He was delighted by getting to check out the sword J had been using.

When we finally got home, Q tells me, "When the trick-or-treaters come," (dramatic pause), "we'll tell them we have a fire engine."

Indian Summer

2008-10-15T19:06:00.014-05:00

One of Grandma Sue's friends offered us the use of their beach this week. We've had spectacular weather for October, cool nights followed by deliciously warm days. We lucked out again today with weather was in the low 70s, so Grandma Sue and I took advantage of the offer to bring the kids to the beach for a picnic.

The beach is Simply Gorgeous. Clean, small and lined by rocks and train tracks. An excellent diversion for a four year old.

We saw the "acela" approximately four times. There is something very suspicious about the frequency. Not to mention that the speed wasn't what you'd imagine for a train that only stops at major train hubs.

One edge of the cove is lined with pretty little summer cottages that made me regret my misspent youth. I don't even like the beach.

As my father would say, I could get used to it.

The kids had an absolute blast. Noodle played chicken with the waves, giggling hysterically when she got caught.

Q buried his cherry picker in the sand. Sue and I spent about 20 minutes looking for it as we herded the kids back and forth on the beach. Quinn asked us where it was and we replied, "We think you buried it, but we don't know where." He chirps, "Here it is," and pulls it out of the sand right by the lawn chairs.

There were scavenging seagulls, of course. I'd forgotten how ambitious they get. One attempted to drag away Q's metal lunch box, filled with trucks. Q was thrilled to be directed to chase the gulls- laughing as he scampered after the unintimidated birds.

At 3:30 we got on the road, a shell shocked vision of sticky, exhaustion strapped in the back seat.

Belly BUTT!on

2008-10-07T19:06:00.003-05:00

Noodle was obsessed with bellybuttons today. Yesterday, or sometime recently, I was teasing her about her belly button, and she was repeating the word she knows "butt" (she uses it for real buttons) and then after I showed her mine, she kept coming back for more.

Today I paid for it. "BUTT!" she demands at the playground. The temperature is getting cold. "BUTT!" My tummy isn't fat, but, well, when I pull up my shirt, and my bellybutton is kind of in a roll of chub over my jeans. "BUTT!" She is finally satisfied. Or will be once I lower my tummy so she can stick her finger in it.

Two minutes later, I have my shirt tucked back in and am struggling to regain my dignity. "BUT!" Noodle toddles back over to me. I attempt to distract her. Looking around, I see another child who is not wearing too many layers to prevent baring stomach skin.

"Look! There's Joanna! Ask to see her belly button."

Noodle obligingly lurches over to Joanna. "BUTT!"

Joanna looks confused. Joanna is two. I explain, "She wants to see your bellybutton."

"BUTT!"

Joanna is very obliging, actually, and concedes to pulling up her soccer t-shirt to show off her belly button.

Noodle pounces, trying to stick her finger in the button.

Joanna drops the shirt and bolts up the playscape. There are advantages to being even a slightly older toddler.

Noodle returns to me. "BUTT!"

I now have a practical reason to wear cropped shirts.

Brace Yourself

2008-09-30T18:53:00.012-05:00

It is the end of an era. Noodle learned to say "No" last week.
She emphasizes it with a shake of her head that pulls her entire little body into a drunken sway. "Nuh."

The kids are both launched into nice phases at the moment. Noodle has a fleet of words that pop out only at her discretion. "Horse" for example. I had decided that I had imagined that she'd ever said it. But Saturday we went to a (free) show at the Essex Train Station featuring Lomax the Melody Hound Dog (read: puppet), which is a new show on PBS. A mule appeared in the show and Noodle chimed right in with a "Huss."

My favorite new word is "Backpack," which she says as she steals Q's backpack, turning for the door and waving, "Byyyeee!" Another new word, perhaps her favorite.

Also this week, Q started drawing stick figures. With faces. And, you know, limbs. Six months ago I wouldn't have said he could draw anything representational. Three months ago I saw him draw a rocket, which promptly was scribbled over because the rocket was moving. I don't see anything for months and now he can draw people? What is this preschool teaching him?

(Q's Quarry on Formal Friday)

He's also fascinated again with what letters/sounds start words. After putting the kids to bed tonight, I heard the normal chattering between the kids for a while, then a "MOM! MOM! DAD STARTS WITH A "D"!" Yes. Yes it does. And I'm excited that you're excited. But could you maybe keep it down so you don't wake up your sister? "DAD STARTS WITH A "D"!"

The kids are sharing bedtime beautifully most nights. I think they love having company as they fall asleep.

Sunday night I heard Noodle chirping away to herself for about an hour after Q fell quiet. Then the screaming started. She's teething. Again. I gave up and brought her downstairs so she wouldn't wake Q. Any more than she had. She stayed awake till ten. Both kids were, well, difficult the next day.

I think one aspect of their relationship that J and I are most amazed by is how much they like each other. Q is ridiculously sweet to her, not just to suck up to the grown ups. When he leaves the room in the morning, leaving Noodle trapped in her crib, she starts to wail. He pauses, "I'll be right back Noodle, I just have to use the potty."

(note the boots)

UPDATE:
For anyone concerned, the odd, migrating rash turned out to be hives. Evidently when you get a virus (as Q had the week previous) it sometimes can result in hives which appear, disappear, reappear. I haven't seen any in the past 48 hours, so I think he's done with it.

Also, to update you on the cleaning the bathroom daily crusade, I have, you won't believe this, cleaned the bathroom every day except for two. I can't believe it myself. It's addictive. Not the cleaning, mind you, but the clean bathroom. I'm really looking forward to the end of the bathroom renovation downstairs.

Unintended Consequences of Cleaning

2008-09-23T19:02:00.002-05:00

I'm still on my personal challenge to clean the bathroom daily. But I've noticed a few things. First, the chemicals I use to clean this bathroom are kind of nasty. They're burning the skin off of my hands (yes, I should use gloves) and are pretty harsh on the lungs. So I've backed off on leaving the tub to soak in chemical juice for hours to bleach it clean. At least not every night. Just sometimes. I'm also watering the stuff down for use on the sink and toilet. Nothing fancy, just not spraying so much of it, and using a wet washcloth to apply it.

I've noticed that I like having a clean bathroom. It is easier to clean. Although it's surprising the amount of dust that arises in 24 hours.

But a more disturbing thing is going on. Ever since I started this effort in cleaning, Q has developed a migrating, disappearing, reappearing rash. I think it's simply coincidence, not causation, but since I cannot figure out what is going on, I'm leaving it as a possibility: Q may be allergic to clean.

Returning to Normal

2008-09-18T17:32:00.010-05:00

We're home. We have a computer, although not much of the data that formerly resided on it. We were resuming our regular, albeit new, routine for preschool, work, and music classes. And now, to throw a bit of excitement into our not very organized lives, J has been cast in another play, MacBeth this time, which is terrific since people have heard of it. He will be playing the Doctor (who knew?) and Murderer No. 3. I'm thinking perhaps Q does not need to see this one either...

Because our life will evidently not be busy enough, I'm trying out a new challenge.

I'm not unusual when I say that I hate cleaning. Who doesn't? Well, in the The New York Times I read about a recently married couple (Tess Taylor and Taylor Schreiner, there's no mention of the odd name combination, I hope he takes hers), who are described in a lovely piece about their romance and wedding. I quote, "They boiled water to wash dishes, discovering that they share an affinity for chores." That makes more sense in context, but my point is that they evidently like chores. That's just wrong. No one likes chores unless they don't have to do them. If there is a mutant gene that has created someone who likes housework, it is unfair of the universe to pair them up with the one lone other person who also likes housework. Spread that kind of goodness around some.

Back to my challenge.

I was cleaning the toilet yesterday and I got this idea. What if I cleaned the bathroom every single day?

Anyone who has ever been to my house has become aware of how much I loathe cleaning. Cleaning makes me mean. Even after I clean the house still feels unclean to me. If anyone ever said of my home the lovely adage, "It was untidy, but clean" I would weep with pleasure.

So why does this masochistic idea appeal to me?

When Q was a toddler, he took an aversion to bath time. He would scream and tantrum if we tried to wash him. Our solution was to integrate bath time into our daily bed time ritual, rather than every two or three days, figuring that familiarity would take the edge off his hatred. Now he reserves screaming to nights when we wash his hair.

If I clean the bathroom every single day, maybe I won't hate cleaning so much. It'll go faster, in theory, because the dirt will have had less time to accumulate. I recall at summer camp, we had daily chores, including cleaning the bathroom, and the grime simply never got as bad because we kept it under control on a daily basis.

I'm on day two of the cleaning every day challenge. I have cleaned the sink, the toilet, the floor. I'll spray the tub down after Q is done with his bath and then rinse it when I go to bed. (I hate scrubbing the tub and feel it makes far less impact than the chemicals do, so this also is my attempt to see if repeat application of tub cleaner might take off that semi-permanent layer of grime.)

If this works to reduce my cleaning stress and actually improve cleanliness, I'll consider what implications this has for the rest of my life. I mean, could I clean the kitchen floor every day? Could I vacuum every day?

And now for gratuitous cute photos of the kids:

Q and Excavator. I'm not sure if it's possible to see in this particular photo, but he's sitting on the edge of his construction site, which looks like a miniature rock quarry.

Noodle had been wandering around the kitchen repeating, "hot, hot, hot," which is Noodle speak for "I'm hungry, would you feed me already?" She tried to hint further by getting into her eating chair. But the eating chair had the tray attached, and you can see what the result was. Obviously she wasn't too distressed. This is fairly typical of the lass.

And here you can see that progress is being made on the bathroom. J is giving Q a tour of the developments. Actually, Q is saying things like, "I see you put up a new shelf." Very Seriously. Noodle is exhausted and just wants to sit in Daddy's lap.

Dear Mr. Sendak,

2008-09-12T11:35:00.006-05:00

I read a lovely article about you in the NY Times this week. I would like to say Happy Birthday. But I would also like to say that I am a bit angry with you after reading the article. I hope that perhaps the article did not accurately portray your attitude towards your legacy. I know that sometimes a person can say something casually that is interpreted to heavily. But still.

I grew up reading your books. Or, perhaps more accurately, having them read to me. I know that 'Where the Wild Things Are' is not your favorite book. But it is one of mine. And now that I have a little boy of my own, there are layers to the book that I appreciate even more. My not-so-wolf-like boy even dressed up in a Max costume for his second Halloween.

When I was a bit older, I had your illustrated version of George MacDonald's 'The Light Princess,' on my bookshelf. Even before I could read, I would browse the pictures. I was very disappointed because the baby was so very homely. I felt the same way with 'Outside Over There'. I mean, it's a *baby* for pete's sake. Why do it have to look so troll like?

Then I had my second child. And perhaps, perhaps just because of you and your illustrations, when I saw how funny and homely she was, I could laugh and rejoice rather than wonder what mash of genes this poor child was cursed with to look so much like a troll. I could tell people with a smile, "She looks like a Sendak baby." And perhaps just because of this, she has a mischievious smile herself.

You want to leave a legacy like Keats? Mr. Sendak, I have to say that I was an English literature major and I was no academic flop, but all I can recall of Keats is something about a vase and beauty.

You? You influence my daily thoughts and references. I will never forget you.

Sinister Issues

2008-09-11T18:44:00.003-05:00

I should say simply, technical difficulties. Specifically, our hard drive went down last week. Went down with a vengeance it would seem. And we, being naive slackers, well, we've never backed it up. Ever. So in addition to simply having an issue with hardware, there is now the significant likelihood that we have just lost nearly 2.5 years of photos, writing, and music (I admit, only J cares about the music, but I think he's not that moved by my loss of writing drafts). Sorry Mom. No photo update of the kids for you.

I admit that I would feel totally justified in abandoning our home and camping out in my mil's home until the situation can be rectified and my computer induced depression has eased off. But truthfully, this was the week we had already agreed to move in with her so that J could work on the downstairs bathroom renovation without fear of Q giving himself a home study course on power tools. Not to mention that Noodle has no fear of climbing anything, especially if Q has ever climbed it in her presence. Ladders, insulation, power tools, if it needs to be left unguarded for more than 30 seconds, it's better to remove the kids from the house entirely.

Staying at Grandma's house has been very educational for me. I have come to realize that two kids can wreck havoc on any home, no matter how beautifully managed, organized, styled, clean. It's their persistence that really makes a difference. If they're only here for a day, the house is restored, almost magically, by the next time I visit. If they're here for a week, all the things that drive me crazy start to emerge here too. Unnecessary kitchen utensils wander into the living room. Construction vehicles, some shedding parts, trip and gouge the unsuspecting bare feet. Food emerges in the toddler's hand, and I recognize it as food, but I have no recollection of having fed her that particular food in the past 12 hours.

While I am reassured that Grandma's house isn't quite as fabulous when the children keep coming back, I am thoroughly enjoying our mini-vacation in her home. Why is it a mini-vacation? Because of Grandma. Grandma is great at distracting one child while I deal with the other. Grandma is great at lending a hand with bedtime. Grandma thinks of meals and cooks them. Most lovely of all, Grandma is excellent company for me. More and more I'm realizing how little time J and I coparent. Mostly we toss the children like batons in a relay race, checking in with each other regularly, but not often able to give support during the long stretches that are the hallmark of parenting.

I am going to have to be drug from Grandma's house.

The End of Summer Vacation

2008-08-26T21:40:00.012-05:00

Sometimes, you just get lucky.

Lucky is when the cottage rental you trustingly made via the internet with no way to verify its actual existence, actually exists.

Complete with a dock for peering at fish.

Lucky is getting not just one, but two, parking tickets, in separate cities, and the total fee is $15.

Lucky is when the one week you take a vacation has the best weather of the whole summer.

And nobody gets a sunburn.

Lucky is returning back to your rental before the overturned lamp actually catches the now scorched rug on fire.

Lucky is having other adults around when your son declares, "It's all right, my penis is lower than the blueberries," as he pees on a bush.

Lucky is when you realize that spending time together as a family actually makes you want to spend more time together as a family.

Lucky is listening to your toddler murmuring, "Happy happy happy," as her father carries her home.

Past week

2008-08-16T05:31:00.006-05:00

Last week we got notice that the town was going to repave the road next to our house, the school parking lot (next door) and the primary street we use to access our street. This might sound annoying, or banal, but please keep in mind, we have a truck obsessed preschool boy in our household.

For the past week, we have had the privilege of watching a diverse quantity of trucks parade past our house, multiple times each day. Street sweeper, asphalt cutter, many dump trucks, excavator, tank truck (with water), asphalt spreader, grader, I'm losing track. And below, you can see what Q has been doing all day long.

The poor kid. At breakfast, he'll sit down to eat, and a truck will go by. He runs to the door, watches for a while, returns to the table, takes one bite, and a truck will go by! It is the height of preschool distraction.

The road looks lovely. We're hoping the repaving doesn't send draining water straight into our parking spots.

On other fronts:

Q wants to hear Stellaluna again and again. (A book about a bat raised by birds.)

Noodle is practicing for her future as a bat-head-eating rock star.

She had her 15 month check up yesterday. She's doing great. She is still not quite 20 lbs. Although if I'd given her free rein with the blueberries yesterday, I'm sure she would be. She's 19 lbs, 15.5 oz. (Half an oz shy of 20, if you're weak on English weights.) Which puts her back down in the 10th percentile, which is absolutely fine, I am told. There have to be some babies in this percentile, after all. And we're lucky we got a healthy baby there.

Excuse me, toddler.

We're off for New Hampshire today. It's probably just as well that she's no bigger than she is, since we may lug her on our backs much of this week. I want to be a slacker mom and not worry about packing every item that my children could conceivably want this week. Yesterday, for example, we went blueberry picking and I didn't even pack the girl a diaper. I know how to live on the edge.

I am not intrepid about travel. It's not part of my personality. However, as a concession to the car's limited space, this time I'm pushing the envelope: I'm only bringing two pairs of shoes.

Lactose Results and Nature Knocking

2008-08-12T20:19:00.003-05:00

So, as I understand it, you breathe into a tube and a machine measures something.

If you score 10 or higher, you are lactose intolerant.
If you score 5 or lower, you are lactose tolerant.

I scored a 0.

We did the test twice since the result seemed, well, negligible?

I think I am one of the lucky few who have an actual obligation to eat ice cream.

***

We're being skulked by a skunk.

We'll be sitting in the den and suddenly I'll run over to the window and peer out, trying to spot her.

J asks, "Honey, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

They're so fearless and beautiful. I'm not stupid enough to mess with her. I just want a glimpse of her as she wanders through our yard, leaving a trail of musk so distinctive that it may beat out cut grass for the true smell of summer.

I haven't seen her yet, but I know she's out there. A smell that strong can't hide forever.

Several times lately we've heard a screech owl.

A mature screech owl is a dignified and haunting call. If you're curious, listen to the whinny sound on this site: "The Owl Foundation".

A few years ago, we were guests at my mother-in-law's house. At 2 am I woke to sounds from a horror movie. I was absolutely convinced that the neighbors had puppies that were being eaten alive. If you want to hear something similar to what I was awoken by, listen to the 'nestling food cry.'

Hopefully the sound of the adult I heard does not precede being woken by the second later this summer. They'd be done with nesting by now, right? right?

The Camel Discusses Straw...

2008-08-04T20:00:00.001-05:00

Even when J is working and it's just the three of us, I like us to eat together. So I make dinner. I set it on the table for Q and myself. I load Noodle's high chair tray and lock her in place.

I call Q to eat dinner. We sit down. For less than a minute.

Q has to use the potty. He goes potty. For twenty minutes.

Noodle and I eat.

Q comes out of the potty. He informs me that he wants to wear clean underwear and shorts. I say, "Please, just wear what you had on before."

Q leaves the room.

Q comes back and tells me he wants to sit on a towel instead of putting on his underwear and shorts. I say no.

Q melts down.

Noodle begins to wail because she wants down from her high chair.

I offer Q a compromise. He can go upstairs and get fresh clothes on if he can do it before a 5 minute timer goes off.

I repeat this offer because he cannot hear me through Noodle's screaming.

He accepts the offer and goes upstairs.

I take Noodle's tray into the kitchen and start wiping her off with a washcloth.

Q returns and asks me to help him put on his old underwear.

I help him get his underwear on.

I get his sister out of the high chair.

I sit down to drink a cup of tea.

Q sits down at the table in his old underwear.

Noodle wanders around.

Our cat Savannah walks over to Noodle and pukes a huge quantity of cat food onto the rug next to her.

Noodle screams in terror.

Q announces, "Mommy! Savannah puked!"

Summertime Blue

2008-07-31T18:15:00.007-05:00

It's blueberry season here. Although I remember pulling blueberries off of bushes while walking in the woods as a child, I have no memory of deliberately going blueberry picking. In place of that memory, is the book Blueberries for Sal. Perhaps I never needed to go blueberry picking- Sal and Little Bear went for me.

We took the kids blueberry picking a few miles from home. These are not wild blueberries, mind you, but rows of bushes at a local apple orchard, grown under nets to protect them from the birds. You enter through a corner, getting tangled like Peter Rabbit in Mr. MacGregor's garden.

Noodle was thrilled. At first she kept squawking for more, but when she got heavy, we set her down on the ground and the real fun began. She realized that she could get to the berries directly and happily plunged into the picking, popping green and blue berries into her mouth indiscriminately. Mushed from the ground? She doesn't mind. I gave up any notion that I can control her at all.

I asked Q if he remembers Blueberries for Sal. No response. Ah, well.

Unlike Sal, we did not have pails to drop our blueberries in, "Kerplink, Kerplank, Kerplunk." We had a large flat box. It was simplest to leave it in one location and bring a handful at a time. Q took over some of the relay action, a good chore for a child who has trouble differentiating between ripe and unripe until the berry is in his hand. Noodle spotted the motherlode, and dove in. The rest of the the trip was spent juggling the box and Noodle, if one was on the ground, the other one must not be.

The July afternoon sun baked us as we picked. We decided we've had enough after an hour of late afternoon sun. I offered Noodle a final blueberry. She was so tired she can barely open her mouth.

When we arrived home, Q asked in a small voice, as he climbed out of the car, "Mommy? Are we going to can our berries for the winter?"

Moments in July

2008-07-11T06:06:00.005-05:00

Noodle has a new word, brought out by Local Grandma. After we sing Happy Birthday, Noodle will follow it with a soft breathy, "Happyhappyhappy."

While I was busy singing to her over dinner last night, Q excused himself to use the potty. Where he fell asleep, head forward to rest on a step stool in front of him. Sadly, I wasn't able to transition him into his bed from there...

And then there were two...

2008-07-08T18:17:00.009-05:00

We've had a busy week with a visit from cousin C from FL and his daddy. In the midst of the visit, we decided it was a good idea to finally move Noodle's crib into Q's room. This is having some mixed results. On the down side, we cannot seem to get either kid into bed and asleep without waking the other one. On the up side, Q has been a little shining star of a big brother. He sings and talks to Noodle to calm her down. He may have gotten protective of his toys during the day time, but at night, he's delighted to share his room. As I type this, he's bellowing, "I've been working on the rail road! All the live long day!" To be honest, I'm not sure how either of them ever falls asleep.

Noodle seems thrilled to have company at night, although she flips out if she sees me putting Q to bed. Just now, when Q left to get a drink of water, she got very upset. The night he went potty twice was a little traumatic. And then I must also remember that she's taken to pooping after she's put to bed each night. The transition has bumped bedtime from 6:30 to 7:30, or sometimes 8:30...

There's a lot more walking going on for Noodle and she can now say several more words: house, horse (they sound the same and she might not say them spontaneously, but in context it's very exciting), Mama and a cat's meowing sound that is remarkably similar to Raleigh's meow (our large brown cat) although I would not have recognized it if she hadn't mewed back at him one morning.

She can also climb a step stool, I discovered this afternoon...

Summer Vacation

2008-06-27T18:48:00.017-05:00

With the start of summer vacation, I have finally figured out that I am not repeatedly getting sick. Or rather, not getting sick with a gastro-intestinal bug as was initially speculated by the ER back in May. No, you go a couple of weeks, and have the same issue (less severe) and then repeat that the next week (severe, but without the dehydration that required the ER), you start to figure out that something is wrong. What precisely is wrong, is up to speculation again, but something more serious than a 24 hour bug is working me over.

Lactose intolerance is a likely suspect. So I have given up dairy for the time being. I expect to wear black until next June.

Other possibilities are pretty much all so complicated and dire that they require a specialist. I'm scheduled for July 22. I figure if I get up to 10 lbs lost in two weeks, I'll call and ask for another appointment.

Q, while himself capable of patiently sitting still for nearly an hour at an intimate double bass concert, has been straining our patience levels lately. So we refreshed our time out skills and he's responded quickly. But the poor kid isn't sleeping that well, and he's out of his nice preschool structure, so it's not surprising that he's been having more tantrums and whining fits than usual.

Wednesday night, he woke up from a nightmare, but not quite. J lay down next to him in bed, but Q simply kept yelling "No!" and kicking his legs, refusing to open his eyes or be soothed. J picked him up and carried him downstairs, hoping the change of venue would wake him enough to shake off the bad dream. Halfway down, Q stops screaming, and says calmly, "I want some ice cream," cracking both of us up. J brought him outside and showed him a lone firefly on our lawn. All very well and good, but he still wanted some ice cream. Sorry buddy.

I think Q's problem is that right now Noodle is learning a lot of new skills at once. She's walking now. The furthest she's managed is across the living room, but she's made vast progress in just two weeks. She's also saying 'Hi!' to strangers, and grinning her funny gap toothed smile, which no one can resist. Or, also amusing to strangers, staring suspiciously at them. She peers seriously into books, cuddles, and gets into trouble constantly. She has simply hit that absolutely adorable toddler stage and requires a lot of attention. And rewards it.

Today she discovered the pacifier stash. Since she no longer constantly needs a pacifier, we've been stashing them near her crib for bedtimes, when they're really quite helpful. As I was doing laundry today, she discovered the bin and pulled out a pacifier and tried it out. But there's another one! She spits out the first, inserts the next. Oooh! Wait! Another pacifier! She spits out the second, inserts the third. Whenever left unattended this afternoon, she'd make her way back to the bin and start trying on pacifiers like they were swimsuits. I'm sure the perfect fit is in here somewhere.

Weekend of Indulgence

2008-06-15T20:54:00.008-05:00

After months of asking when he would turn 4, suddenly Q's birthday has come and gone without the tremendous exhilaration or infamous tantrums one would expect with so much anticipation. Is it possible that we could have fulfilled all his preschooler fantasies without building them into a frenzy? I have this dark suspicion that this last week of preschool will be filled with the disappointment of discovering that every day is not filled with lovely adventures, cake, presents and attention. Then we'll see some frenzied tantrums.

Friday we had the traditional picnic at Cedar Lake with cake. Q raced off to play in the sand with the child featured in last year's birthday photos, referred to internally as the 'resident' kid. This year they are both nearing four and civilized behavior and cooperative play came more easily. We barely saw Q the first hour. He was busy.

So Noodle reaped the benefits of having the nearly undistracted attention of 5 doting adults. She was thrilled. And, contrary to most days, photogenic:

She's greeting these early months of her second year with eagerness. Over the weekend she suddenly decided that last week's solo step repeated in various locations is just baby stuff and demonstrated a surprising new ability to string together several steps (up to 6 so far!). Oddly enough, she's best at it when she's tired. She's abandoned the hairball sound used to identify cats in favor of a sound equally ghastly for feline ears: the simple high pitched shriek. Although 'de-de' is still used to identify Daddy, babies, kitties and sometimes confusing undetermined items, she now prefers her new word, "this". Combined with pointing, it has proved itself an effective and satisfying word.

I have resisted the temptation to post the photo of Noodle being wiped clean of cake, looking at my mother with evident dislike on her face

Much to my delight, Q was delighted with every present he opened. A semaphore (go look it up and find out if I spelled it right) brought out a long and detailed explanation. He's now sleeping with it. Just in case.

And, much to my foolish joy, Q's beloved Excavator is returned to his arms.

Minor Injury Report

2008-06-01T19:32:00.003-05:00

So Q had his first sports related injury in T-ball this past Thursday. Because Mom and Dad were there to witness the disaster, he was unable to continue with Preschool that day. Sadly, from my distant perspective it was terribly funny: one of the moms hit the t-ball, which flew straight out to smack him in the face. It seemed like a scene in a movie. (The mother felt awful and I'm sure I'd be scarred for life if it had been me that hit the ball.) Q seems to have recovered, since the next day he and a preschool buddy were deliberately throwing a ball into each other's faces.

Today I determined that I was courageous enough to attempt to trim Noodle's hair. I was mostly afraid that I would mangle the job and she would end up looking like someone tried to trim her hair in the dark. Turns out, that should've been the least of my worries. I didn't notice that she moved mid-trim, turning to yell at me. I scolded her. "It doesn't hurt to get your hair cut." Oh, yes, I guess it does hurt if your mother slices off your ear. The flow of blood down her shoulder being the tip-off. Luckily she's really hard to phase over something like this. She continued to bleed for probably half an hour of my attempts to staunch the flow with various strategies, but she was totally unconcerned after the initial protest.

Sadly, I think her hair looks a little like I tried to trim it in the dark.

Memorial Day Weekend

2008-05-26T19:10:00.007-05:00

Last year on Memorial Day weekend I spent Thursday and Friday nights in the Yale New Haven Hospital with Noodle as she was pumped full of antibiotics. I flashed back to that this Friday when I ended up in the ER, getting pumped full of fluids, pain killers, and something to relax my stomach muscles. The whole household seems to be feeling pretty puny: J picked up my GI bug (although he had a milder version and didn't get felled by dehydration) and the two kids are snot-nosed and tired. Hopefully we're all on the mend now, and to remember a year ago definitely puts colds and viruses into perspective.

Saturday we tried to take things easy, but still have enough activity that the kids would fall asleep when their heads hit the pillows. After an easy walk around downtown Essex, we stopped for ice cream, and I shared my scoop with Noodle. J has been trying (with some success) to teach her to say, "MMMMM" when she wants more of something. This was being reinforced very solidly with the ice cream- until I ran out. She got a bit upset. So J coached her on the "MMMMM" some more, giving her tastes of his. Which worked until he ran out. We tidied up as she voiced her protest, and buckled her into the stroller. She settled down a bit as we explained that it was all gone. Then she spotted the two teenage boys eating huge cones nearby. Pointing at them, she screeched, "THERE'S MORE!" in every way except actual words. Terribly funny.

She's actually starting to do this quite a bit. She points out when even complete strangers have something- anything- she doesn't have. It's obviously unfair. Her main desire is food, or drink, but she can get quite worked up about the car keys hanging in the kitchen. "THEY'RE RIGHT THERE! YOU'RE NOT USING THEM!"

Q is starting to fall into the 4 year old narration pattern of announcing every single detail of everything he's doing and seeing. It can be charming, albeit with some reservations, when he pops into our bedroom at 2:30 am to tell us he can see the moon through the window! But it can also be a bit exhausting when you've asked him three times to do a particular task and he's explaining instead what he is doing which is totally unrelated in excruciating detail. It'd be fascinating, except if he doesn't get his underwear and pants on in the next five minutes, the chances of getting him to preschool, and me to work, on time, are remote.

His favorite line currently is, "I like Noodle." He says this so many times each day that the phrase about 'doth protest too much' comes to mind. Except, most of the time, he really seems to like her. He shares with her, tries to play with her, giggles at her. He's a remarkably kind big brother. Fingers crossed.

Q is also in the delightful stage where he adores helping and (this is key) can actually help! He's practically desperate for me to make dinner in the evenings with the hope that he can help me. Tonight he was unable to sleep at bed time because he had one of his rare car naps. So we ordered groceries together, put the recycling into the bin and brought it out to the curb with the trash, cleaned up Noodle's exersaucer (she's too big for it, but has been delighted by the novelty of being placed in it lately), and as I cleaned the kitty litter he supervised and discussed the delicate distinction between kitty puke and kitty poop .

The key to finding ways he can help is to remember: No Task Is Too Small. "Could you throw this in the trash for me please?" "Can you put this washcloth in the hamper in Noodle's room please?" The main difficulty lies in thinking ahead to the next small task and having it ready for his return. Otherwise I end up asking him to use sophisticated tools with mixed results. The salad spinner and grater were successes, but the peeler incident resulted in blood and bandaids, and a tragic waste of parmesan...

Gardening

2008-05-19T19:50:00.004-05:00

For Mother's Day, Q received a rake and hoe. Since working in the yard is something he does primarily with me. These are metal and effective and now he has better gardening tools than I do. I have to bargain with him, trading the use of the hoe for the rake. They may be child sized, but let's face it, I'm not that tall, and most of my gardening is small scale.

I'm attempting to keep the yard respectable this summer. We laid good groundwork for this last fall by finally digging out a tremendous number of weeds (I believe much of this work was done after the growing season was over) and mulching around the plants we hoped were deliberate plantings. Now if I am vigilant and attempt to weed several days each week, I hope I might keep the garden beds attractive.

I've taken to hanging out in the yard with the kids trying to weed to this end. This works better some days than others. If Noodle is satisfied with hanging out in the wagon with a toy, and if Q is satisfied with remaining in our yard, I can actually get quite a bit of work done. Sometimes the kids even cooperate together, Q pulling Noodle in the wagon, to her obvious and touching delight. In various sessions in the past two weeks, with assistance from J, we have created a new bed (mulched even!) for day lilies in our side yard where we'll appreciate it every time we come home. J took it into his head to actually whack off all the dead branches on the shrubs on the same side yard. I kept thinking, 'Wait, we can *do* that?' They look much better. A little strange in bits, but so much less, well, dead.

Yesterday I hacked apart an already leafed hosta. I'd generally recommend dividing hostas in the spring or fall the way you're supposed to. However we have Very Large hostas that are massing in a plot to take over Rhode Island. My experience in the past four years with this yard is that I simply cannot insult the hostas enough to kill one. It's amazingly difficult to divide them in the first place. I hop up and down on the shovel attempting to break the root mass. I dig all around the entire plant, then remove the dirt from underneath it, hoping to surprise it with a sneak attack. Once I manage to crack off (and it sounds like I'm bursting open a melon) a chunk, I simply drop it in a shallow grave, pat the sides gently with loose dirt, water them once or twice until I forget (make that once) and the next spring I have a new hosta hedge. So I'm taking a mild risk by hacking off chunks of a heretofore neglected hosta (they like to be divided I'm told, and this one was crowded and attempting to smother the local perennials). I managed to get three good sized hosta chunks for replanting on the dark side of the rhododendron and I'll hope that they will take over and remove any lasting guilt I have for neglecting that corner of the yard. It's probably over run with dogs hitting the lightpole anyways.

Today I continued my assorted crusades and Q continued to assist. One of his favorite tasks is to run around the yard, pulling up small red seedlings from the Norwegian Maple and bring each individually to my attention, "Look Mommy! I found a baby tree!" There are thousands in the lawn and garden beds, so we may have located our summer entertainment. He has learned the name of a few plants (hostas and skunk cabbage, which sadly look identical to the naive eye, forsythias, dandelions). Today he brought me a spring of a flower plant. "What is is this called Mommy?" I don't know this one. He solved the problem, "I call it fermangia!"

Noodle Turns One

2008-05-15T22:10:00.008-05:00

She was tentative and mildly confused at first.

But she caught on...

She flew through her one year check up with flying colors, much to my relief, although not to any real surprise. She's packing on the pounds, and although she's only 18 lbs 13 oz, she's put on 3 lbs in 3 months when they expect the weight gain to slow down, and popped herself from the 5th percentile (5 to 10, I could've sworn it was 15th at 9 months) into the 15th percentile. Not to call her chubby. She's in the 50th percentile for length, which I think is also a bump up, and helps me understand why she looks more toddler than baby like. The new tooth I spotted recently (she's got several coming in) is a molar.

No walking yet, but it's starting to look like she's considering taking a step towards a desired object, then deciding that leaning or crawling is more prudent. Sadly, she's taken up shrieking and thus far we haven't been able to persuade her that it's a bad idea.

She's still a pretty mellow kid. She and Q seem to complement each other pretty well. She's getting cute, but still has far more potential for adorable goofy than pretty exactly. She's got a crinkle between her eyes when she grins. She'll let you know when she's unhappy, or if she wants something, but as one grandma pointed out, she's quick to forgive and forget once the situation is righted.

Noodle reminds us most of her brother, paradoxically followed by reminding us of my brother C, with her mischievous grin and her crawling obviously accelerating when she sees a forbidden object in reach. We may be in trouble.

Food: A Whole Body Experience

2008-04-24T07:02:00.005-05:00

E.T.

2008-04-18T19:38:00.002-05:00

This morning while Noodle was happily pointing at the cat and hacking out her sound for “Cat” (“AC- ACK- ACK!”), I asked her to go get the truck. She looked at me, crawled over to the truck and brought it to me. Definitely serious neuron work going on in there, despite the alien communication skills.

Sunshine and Time

2008-04-16T20:27:00.003-05:00

Today was the first afternoon in a while that we had unrushed time together as a family and the weather was brilliant. I met J and the kids at a park after work. Q ran around happily playing with children he'd never met before, with a happy, "Hi Mommy!" when he saw me.

Noodle has a new word, her first word outside of Dada, and spent the afternoon calling everything "Ack!" which is Noodle for "Cat!" You can tell it means Cat because it gets very animated and repetitive when she's near or pointing to a cat. Otherwise you'd think she had something caught in her throat.

She also indiscriminately calls many things Dada, but has clearly indicated the understanding of the word again and used it when he handed her a pacifier late one night. Very, very sweet.

When we got home after running errands, we had dinner on the patio, for the first time this spring. I'm going to brainstorm strategies to make this easier because it is simply so nice to eat outside, except for the lugging of high chairs, food, silverware, drinks, plateware, and children who need constant supervision.

Q is on spring vacation this week and you'd think he had a rigorous academic schedule by how much he seems to enjoy not being rushed out of the house at 8:50 each morning. Personally, I'm relieved that we're coming up with a plan for summer activities for him. Last summer he was a poster boy for 'Idle hands are the devil's playthings'. We're just not clever enough to keep a preschooler busy for months on end.

Today he declared with all the importance of a tiny Buddha (or Yoda) that "If upstairs was downstairs, then downstairs would be upstairs."

For those who would like an update on No Thank You bites, it does appear that I won that skirmish. He ate the exact same foods we fought over the following night, with barely an attempt for negotiating (and actually he ate the cheese toast with much gusto). The trick, it seems, is to remember his preschool teacher's recommendation that you offer the "less preferred" items first, then, after you are satisfied by the No Thank You bite, offer the food they'll actually eat.

Fruitless Battles

2008-04-14T18:14:00.003-05:00

At preschool, the kids are trained to take 'No Thank You' bites. I need to investigate what level of cooperation my son is giving them regarding these bites.

This evening I gave Q a few peas (6) and some toasted cheese. These came at the end of the meal (they were finally ready) where he cleared off veggie sausage, pineapple, milk and perhaps something else I can't recall.

I told Q I expected him to eat a no thank you bite of each consisting of 3 peas and 1 actual bite of the cheese toast. He refused. I insisted. He refused. I insisted. He refused. I insisted.

So finally I left him at the table (kitchen has been cleaned, his sister fed and played with, I've had a cup of tea, and kept insisting he stay at the table) and took Noodle upstairs for her bath. I hear him dump his plate into the sink (a required chore) and he padded up the stairs.

"Did you eat your no thank you bite?"
"...No."

Ok. So what can I logically punish him with? This is beyond what I think is reasonable anyways (on the pick your battle front I have no idea why I am in the midst of this skirmish). So I inform him that I'm very disappointed in him. And that consequently tonight he can't use Noodle's bath water.

Yes, that's right, an actual and real punishment that sends him into a tantrum and even evokes a tear which wrenches my grumpy heart: he cannot use the bathwater used for his sister's bath. I don't know why it's so important to him, but he's made it clear in the past (you only make the mistake once) that he really wants to take a bath in her bathwater. Sometimes even with her in it, but usually after she's done. Got me why.

I believe I won the skirmish, but to be honest, I'm not sure.