Me: How about you go potty on the toilet before we turn on this movie?
Maggie: No. Want to.
Me: Ok, you better not pee in your panties then.
Matthew: If you pee in your panties, you'll be fired!
Maggie: Pee panties [big breath]...die.
Like this, ehh. (Sticking her tongue out and putting her head to one side.)
Dramatic, but effective, potty training. She stayed dry.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Childhood, Revisited
"But they shouldn't call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it--let me see--the White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name? When I don't like the name of a place or a person I always imagine them a new one and I always think of them so. There was a girl at the asylum whose name was Hepzibah Jenkins, but I always imagined her as Rosalia DeVere. Other people may call that place the Avenue but I shall always call it the White Way of Delight. Have we really only another mile to go before we get home? I'm glad and I'm sorry. I'm sorry because this drive has been so pleasant and I'm always sad when pleasant things end. Something still pleasanter may come after, but you can never be sure. And it's so often the case that it isn't pleasanter. That has been my experience anyhow. But I'm glad to think of getting home. You see, I've never had a real home since I can remember. It gives me that pleasant ache again to think of coming to a really truly home. Oh, isn't that pretty!"Anne of Green Gables talks too much.
Desperate for something to read, the other day I pulled out my old copy of L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables. I'm sorry to report that the book is just not as captivating as it was when I was a girl.
Eying an upcoming paragraph of Anne monologue that lasted through most of two pages, I found myself thinking, "Here we go again. I wonder what she's going to blather on about now..." And I skimmed right through most of the lengthy descriptions of P.E. Island scenery--they were so wordy. Even Anne's "scrapes"--flavoring a cake with liniment oil, dyeing her hair green, and falling off a roof--seemed contrived and lame this time through.
But in spite of these shortcomings in the book, I still found myself admiring Anne's goodness and caught myself wanting to be like Anne--even after all these years (and even if she does run on at the mouth a little too much).
You see, there was a time when Anne, and L. M. Montgomery's other girls, Emily of New Moon and especially Pat of Silver Bush, were a major part of my life. I devoured every book of Ms. Montgomery's that I could get my hands on and very much wanted to be like these amazing, individualistic, imaginative, good girls.
In fact, that was the fascinating part of reading Anne of Green Gables this week. I discovered the roots of myself in L. M. Montgomery's didactic, flowery prose. As a girl I must have soaked up the morals in her books because many of Anne's peculiarities became mine. I was a consummate daydreamer (when I wasn't reading), living in a world of fairy tales and fantasy. I looked for evidence of elves and fairies in the woods around our Washington home, even as a teenager. I certainly picked up my ideas of academic competition from Anne. I used big, long words that I usually didn't quite know the meaning and rarely the pronunciation of. (I thought "fatigue" was "fat-ih-gew" well into high school.) I even remember trying to cut out slang words from my vocabulary in 5th or 6th grade--I have to admit I wasn't very successful because modern speech is slang, but I did manage to end up speaking differently than most other kids my age.
I come from a wonderful family who were a little unique (we didn't have TV after I was in 6th grade) but still pretty middle class normal. I always wondered where I picked up my affinity for things more...snooty. For example, I really love opera and well-written classic literature. And now I'm wondering if it all came from reading Anne books (and similar ones like An Old Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott) at an early, impressionable age...
Anne's author writes: "Perhaps she [Anne] had not succeeded in "inspiring" any wonderful ambitions in her pupils, but she had taught them, more by her own sweet personality than by all her careful precepts, that it was good and necessary in the years that were before them to live their lives finely and graciously, holding fast to truth and courtesy and kindness, keeping aloof from all that savored of falsehood and meanness and vulgarity." I have a sneaking suspicion that was L. M. Montgomery's own secret ambition, anyway, in creating Anne and the other girls.
I'll tell you I ate it up as a girl. The barely hidden morals, the subtly manipulative passages about influencing others, the goodness: I drank it all in. Even reading these books now, I realize that I still hold Anne as the ideal of girlhood and womanhood. (She does outgrow her loquaciousness, by the way, but never her imagination.) A year away from turning thirty, I catch myself wishing I could posess her "certain evasive charm" and thinking maybe if I were more charitable toward others, cared less about public opinion, and tried to be more sincere all around maybe I could achieve "Anne-ness". And I think I need to bake more cakes from scratch and start studying poetry and Latin, too.
And now you all know what a nerd I really am.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Matthew: The Big Six
Matthew's much anticipated 6th birthday finally arrived this week. On Wednesday, January 23rd, we had a little family celebration for him. He invited Grandma and Grandpa Swings over (he's so social, he can't stand to have a party without inviting someone) for pizza, sugar cookies, and presents.
Grandma and Grandpa Swings gave Matthew two $50 bills wrapped around his very own ketchup bottle. Much to their astonishment, he could have cared less about the money, "My very own bottle of ketchup, just what I always wanted. Yes!" And he was being serious. Matthew loves ketchup.
Grandma and Grandpa Camper sent a box that had arrived earlier in the mail. I hadn't opened the packaging so I just handed the large cardboard mailer box to Matthew and told him to go ahead and open it. With a little help from Nathan, he dove into that box in typical enthusiastic Matthew fashion and grabbing the first present he tore off the paper. Lo and behold it was full of scrubbing brushes and kitchen scissors.
Matthew had opened a gift meant for me! He later asked Grandma, "Why did you give me scrubbing brushes for my birthday?" She suggested next time he check the tag on the present.
But he found a good use for that scrubbing brush after all. You can never have too many swords.
We started off the festivities by drawing a city for matchbox cars on the kitchen table. Actually this was a huge hit because the kids who were artistic could take their time creating buildings, parks, and mailboxes while the kids with shorter attention spans could zoom cars all over the roads that I drew in beforehand.
I had to include this picture of Nathan in his party headgear:
Check out the fancy race track cake complete with Oreo cookie crumb asphalt!
Happy Birthday, Matthew!
Maggie was super excited by all the presents but became pretty upset when she wasn't allowed to open them. Lucky for her, she has a kind-hearted brother who let her help out.
Grandma and Grandpa Swings gave Matthew two $50 bills wrapped around his very own ketchup bottle. Much to their astonishment, he could have cared less about the money, "My very own bottle of ketchup, just what I always wanted. Yes!" And he was being serious. Matthew loves ketchup.
Grandma and Grandpa Camper sent a box that had arrived earlier in the mail. I hadn't opened the packaging so I just handed the large cardboard mailer box to Matthew and told him to go ahead and open it. With a little help from Nathan, he dove into that box in typical enthusiastic Matthew fashion and grabbing the first present he tore off the paper. Lo and behold it was full of scrubbing brushes and kitchen scissors.
Matthew had opened a gift meant for me! He later asked Grandma, "Why did you give me scrubbing brushes for my birthday?" She suggested next time he check the tag on the present.
But he found a good use for that scrubbing brush after all. You can never have too many swords.
Today we hosted a race car birthday party for Matthew and eight of his friends. Only half the invited guests showed up. No complaints here.
We started off the festivities by drawing a city for matchbox cars on the kitchen table. Actually this was a huge hit because the kids who were artistic could take their time creating buildings, parks, and mailboxes while the kids with shorter attention spans could zoom cars all over the roads that I drew in beforehand.
I had to include this picture of Nathan in his party headgear:
Check out the fancy race track cake complete with Oreo cookie crumb asphalt!
Happy Birthday, Matthew!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Pipes, Tenants, and Home Warranties
We are currently caught up in the nightmare that lurks in every new homeowner's fears: serious problems with the new house. Luckily for us, our builder has stepped up to the plate and the people in charge of warranty work have shown their determination to fix the problem no matter how much sheet rock they have to rip out. Here's a shout out to Liberty Homes, their warranty guy, and the construction superintendent. Way to go, guys.
The issue? Frozen pipes...in our studio apartment over the garage...off and on for a couple of months.
Our first tenant discovered the problem upon returning from a two-week vacation in December. He left his heat on; the problem was in the garage which is detached from our house and pretty cold. Brian spent a day heating the garage with the grill to thaw things out (yes, it smelled like barbecue for two weeks and no, he did not manage to poison himself with carbon monoxide). The second time the pipes froze we called Liberty and they came out and stuffed the pipe chassis with insulation. We all thought that would take care of it.
Last week, we found a new tenant after the first one abruptly moved out (thank you, KSL classifieds!) But as soon as she started moving in, she discovered one problem after another with the plumbing. There were leaks under both kitchen and bathroom sinks (and plenty of water damage, too, thanks to several months of neglect). When you turned on the kitchen faucet, the sprayer would start spraying water everywhere. (Why couldn't our first tenant tell us these things...?) And there was no hot water: the pipes were frozen...again.
Liberty sent a plumber--a few times, actually--to fix the leaks. After another failed attempt at padding the pipes with more insulation, they attacked the frozen pipes problem in full force. Our garage became a winter wonderland of dust and fluffy, loose insulation as they tore out the sheet-rocked ceiling to essentially re-do most of the plumbing to the apartment above. They moved my car out for me, covered what they could with tarps, and did their best to clean up the mess but we're going to have a nice spring cleaning chore when the garden hose thaws out enough to use it. Or Brian will, I'll be busy with other important things, like, changing ten diapers a day and trying to remember when was the last time I slept... It's not like it our garage was very spotless to begin with, considering the large, frozen puddle of elk blood in the center of it.
Have I mentioned this holes-in-the-garage-ceiling experience has happened on a smaller scale before? Our first tenant moved in and discovered there was no hot water. It turned out the hot and cold water lines were crossed. I'm beginning to worry about the plumbing in our own part of the house...
Our new tenant has been really good about all of this. If I were in her shoes and payed good money for a nice place to live and it turned out to not have running water I would be pretty ticked. She had to use our shower this morning. I didn't mind, but how annoying and embarrassing for her. We've discounted this month's rent but if it keeps up much longer I'm sure she'll have to move out...and expect her money back, too. And she hasn't even been here a week!
The issue? Frozen pipes...in our studio apartment over the garage...off and on for a couple of months.
Our first tenant discovered the problem upon returning from a two-week vacation in December. He left his heat on; the problem was in the garage which is detached from our house and pretty cold. Brian spent a day heating the garage with the grill to thaw things out (yes, it smelled like barbecue for two weeks and no, he did not manage to poison himself with carbon monoxide). The second time the pipes froze we called Liberty and they came out and stuffed the pipe chassis with insulation. We all thought that would take care of it.
Last week, we found a new tenant after the first one abruptly moved out (thank you, KSL classifieds!) But as soon as she started moving in, she discovered one problem after another with the plumbing. There were leaks under both kitchen and bathroom sinks (and plenty of water damage, too, thanks to several months of neglect). When you turned on the kitchen faucet, the sprayer would start spraying water everywhere. (Why couldn't our first tenant tell us these things...?) And there was no hot water: the pipes were frozen...again.
Liberty sent a plumber--a few times, actually--to fix the leaks. After another failed attempt at padding the pipes with more insulation, they attacked the frozen pipes problem in full force. Our garage became a winter wonderland of dust and fluffy, loose insulation as they tore out the sheet-rocked ceiling to essentially re-do most of the plumbing to the apartment above. They moved my car out for me, covered what they could with tarps, and did their best to clean up the mess but we're going to have a nice spring cleaning chore when the garden hose thaws out enough to use it. Or Brian will, I'll be busy with other important things, like, changing ten diapers a day and trying to remember when was the last time I slept... It's not like it our garage was very spotless to begin with, considering the large, frozen puddle of elk blood in the center of it.
Have I mentioned this holes-in-the-garage-ceiling experience has happened on a smaller scale before? Our first tenant moved in and discovered there was no hot water. It turned out the hot and cold water lines were crossed. I'm beginning to worry about the plumbing in our own part of the house...
Our new tenant has been really good about all of this. If I were in her shoes and payed good money for a nice place to live and it turned out to not have running water I would be pretty ticked. She had to use our shower this morning. I didn't mind, but how annoying and embarrassing for her. We've discounted this month's rent but if it keeps up much longer I'm sure she'll have to move out...and expect her money back, too. And she hasn't even been here a week!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Gosh Dang It All to Heck
Or, as my mother would say, bad words, bad words, bad words...
Hiroko from The Sweet Escape tagged me to...
If her warmth-craving soul can find something positive about this 10 degree weather, maybe I, too, I can overcome my pregnancy-induced irritability at this...pregnancy.
No matter how much I tried to suppress it (and I tried desperately to come up with something else) I knew immediately as soon as I read the meme that I had to write about pregnancy. And I was so enjoying my misery...
So I will put on a brave face and remind myself that even though I feel frumpy and uncomfortable in maternity clothes at least there is a lot better selection in stores these days than during my first pregnancy nine years ago. Hooray for Old Navy Maternity and the invention of low-rise elastic-waist pants!
And when I'm struggling to wash dishes around my protruding belly, I'll remember how much I love my seamless solid-surface counter and kitchen sink at which it is actually slightly easier to wash dishes than the old one. And it's nice to have a husband who'll pitch in and wash dishes every once in awhile, too.
While I'm dragging my extra 40 pounds up another flight of stairs, I'll remember that I put this weight on for two reasons: first because I'll have a big, healthy baby at the end of it all and second, because it's so much fun to eat and eat and eat while I'm pregnant and enjoy my hearty appetite.
Example: I couldn't have eaten this lunch today if I weren't pregnant: 1) two battered fish tenders drenched in homemade tartar sauce (ok, I made it with light mayo but that was only because our jar of regular mayo tastes funny), 2) half an apple smothered in peanut butter (yum!), 3) a dill pickle spear because as I was reaching for number 4 I figured I should have some vegetables first (I know pickles don't count as nutritious vegetables, Mom, but it was green--I'm eating the rainbow here!), and 4) a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and peanuts because plain ice cream just doesn't do it for me these days. And then a couple of mini candy canes left from Christmas because they sounded good.
When I see the piles of laundry that didn't get folded, dirty floors that haven't been mopped, and the bathrooms that are starting to grow, um, I don't want to know what...I'll remember that absolutely delicious feeling of crawling into a cozy bed on a quiet afternoon when the boys are at school and Maggie actually takes a nap. Naps are so yummy--and so refreshing--when you're pregnant. And the best part? You don't have trouble falling asleep again at bedtime! Plus, when do you have a better excuse for sluffing housework than in your third trimester (except maybe when you bring that new baby home)?
When my back aches and my shoulders ache and my hips ache and my feet ache and my stretching belly feels like it's going to burst, I'll be glad that I have healthy, normal pregnancies and I don't have to deal with difficulties like diabetes, hypertension, or violent morning sickness. Many people don't know that Charlotte Bronte, author of Jane Eyre, died from her first pregnancy--she couldn't keep food or water down and the world was deprived early of a great literary mind.
When I realize that I'm terrorizing my poor children with my unpredictable mood swings and I find my patience fraying desperately, I'll count my blessings, four of them: four bright, healthy, happy children. It's a privilege to conceive, bear, and raise these precious souls because there are many women, good friends of mine, who have not been so blessed.
Yes, I'm a lucky pregnant woman. And I'm especially lucky to live in these modern times of many birth control options so if all my other silver linings fail me I can find comfort in the knowledge that this is my last pregnancy.
I pass the torch to Tori, Katharine, and Julie:
Hiroko from The Sweet Escape tagged me to...
If her warmth-craving soul can find something positive about this 10 degree weather, maybe I, too, I can overcome my pregnancy-induced irritability at this...pregnancy.No matter how much I tried to suppress it (and I tried desperately to come up with something else) I knew immediately as soon as I read the meme that I had to write about pregnancy. And I was so enjoying my misery...
So I will put on a brave face and remind myself that even though I feel frumpy and uncomfortable in maternity clothes at least there is a lot better selection in stores these days than during my first pregnancy nine years ago. Hooray for Old Navy Maternity and the invention of low-rise elastic-waist pants!
And when I'm struggling to wash dishes around my protruding belly, I'll remember how much I love my seamless solid-surface counter and kitchen sink at which it is actually slightly easier to wash dishes than the old one. And it's nice to have a husband who'll pitch in and wash dishes every once in awhile, too.
While I'm dragging my extra 40 pounds up another flight of stairs, I'll remember that I put this weight on for two reasons: first because I'll have a big, healthy baby at the end of it all and second, because it's so much fun to eat and eat and eat while I'm pregnant and enjoy my hearty appetite.
Example: I couldn't have eaten this lunch today if I weren't pregnant: 1) two battered fish tenders drenched in homemade tartar sauce (ok, I made it with light mayo but that was only because our jar of regular mayo tastes funny), 2) half an apple smothered in peanut butter (yum!), 3) a dill pickle spear because as I was reaching for number 4 I figured I should have some vegetables first (I know pickles don't count as nutritious vegetables, Mom, but it was green--I'm eating the rainbow here!), and 4) a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and peanuts because plain ice cream just doesn't do it for me these days. And then a couple of mini candy canes left from Christmas because they sounded good.
When I see the piles of laundry that didn't get folded, dirty floors that haven't been mopped, and the bathrooms that are starting to grow, um, I don't want to know what...I'll remember that absolutely delicious feeling of crawling into a cozy bed on a quiet afternoon when the boys are at school and Maggie actually takes a nap. Naps are so yummy--and so refreshing--when you're pregnant. And the best part? You don't have trouble falling asleep again at bedtime! Plus, when do you have a better excuse for sluffing housework than in your third trimester (except maybe when you bring that new baby home)?
When my back aches and my shoulders ache and my hips ache and my feet ache and my stretching belly feels like it's going to burst, I'll be glad that I have healthy, normal pregnancies and I don't have to deal with difficulties like diabetes, hypertension, or violent morning sickness. Many people don't know that Charlotte Bronte, author of Jane Eyre, died from her first pregnancy--she couldn't keep food or water down and the world was deprived early of a great literary mind.
When I realize that I'm terrorizing my poor children with my unpredictable mood swings and I find my patience fraying desperately, I'll count my blessings, four of them: four bright, healthy, happy children. It's a privilege to conceive, bear, and raise these precious souls because there are many women, good friends of mine, who have not been so blessed.
Yes, I'm a lucky pregnant woman. And I'm especially lucky to live in these modern times of many birth control options so if all my other silver linings fail me I can find comfort in the knowledge that this is my last pregnancy.
I pass the torch to Tori, Katharine, and Julie:
Write a new blog post about thinking differently.
State that your post is a part of the Think Different Challenge and include a link back to this post. Feel free to use the above banner (inspired by Seth Godin).
At the end of your post, go ahead and tag some fellow bloggers. Don't forget to let them know they have been tagged.
P.S. The grammar geek in me just has to point out that the purple cow graphic should read "Think Differently". I know...but it's bugging me.Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Water Bombs and Paper Airplanes
Last night, having finished all four Franny K. Stein books from Santa, Nathan finally decided to check out his last Christmas book:
As he glanced through it, he got more and more enthusiastic finding instructions to make the greatest paper airplane ever, 5 knots every boy should know, and even a tree house complete with a counter-weighted trapdoor. But the part that got him so excited he had to jump out of bed immediately to grab the necessary supplies? Water bombs--for getting back at the girls on the bus that keep bugging him and his friend, Colin, of course.
Remember those paper balloons from elementary school? Well, apparently, you can fill them with water and launch them at people.
Nathan got to work last night and quickly made three water bombs. He left them home today so he built up another arsenal at school (as well as folding paper hats for everyone at table 2--how does he have so much free time in class, I'm wondering...). And then they threw them over the seat at the girls on the bus.
Luckily for the girls--and the bus driver--and Nathan and Colin's permanent records--the boys didn't fill their bombs with water. Nathan said he skipped number 10 on the instructions. He came home to report that Plan A didn't work--the girls ripped up all of his water bombs, even his most prized possession one, and still wouldn't leave them alone.
So he and Colin sat on the floor of their bus seat and "hatched plans". Tomorrow it's paper airplanes. I'm not sure what paper airplanes, even the world's greatest paper airplanes, will accomplish that water bombs sans water didn't (except maybe expulsion from the bus). But when you're in second grade and there are three annoying girls who sit behind you, it's war.
I'm just thrilled Nathan likes his book because I was pretty excited about it when I, um, I mean, Santa found it online. You know Nathan's going to expect to build a tree house complete with counter-weighted trapdoor this summer at Grandma Swings' house (we don't have any trees with a trunk larger than about 2 inches in diameter at our house). And maybe he'll eventually read the chapters about great moments in history, English grammar, and books every boy should read. Do you think I should I point out to him the chapter on girls?
As he glanced through it, he got more and more enthusiastic finding instructions to make the greatest paper airplane ever, 5 knots every boy should know, and even a tree house complete with a counter-weighted trapdoor. But the part that got him so excited he had to jump out of bed immediately to grab the necessary supplies? Water bombs--for getting back at the girls on the bus that keep bugging him and his friend, Colin, of course.
Remember those paper balloons from elementary school? Well, apparently, you can fill them with water and launch them at people.
Nathan got to work last night and quickly made three water bombs. He left them home today so he built up another arsenal at school (as well as folding paper hats for everyone at table 2--how does he have so much free time in class, I'm wondering...). And then they threw them over the seat at the girls on the bus.
Luckily for the girls--and the bus driver--and Nathan and Colin's permanent records--the boys didn't fill their bombs with water. Nathan said he skipped number 10 on the instructions. He came home to report that Plan A didn't work--the girls ripped up all of his water bombs, even his most prized possession one, and still wouldn't leave them alone.
So he and Colin sat on the floor of their bus seat and "hatched plans". Tomorrow it's paper airplanes. I'm not sure what paper airplanes, even the world's greatest paper airplanes, will accomplish that water bombs sans water didn't (except maybe expulsion from the bus). But when you're in second grade and there are three annoying girls who sit behind you, it's war.
I'm just thrilled Nathan likes his book because I was pretty excited about it when I, um, I mean, Santa found it online. You know Nathan's going to expect to build a tree house complete with counter-weighted trapdoor this summer at Grandma Swings' house (we don't have any trees with a trunk larger than about 2 inches in diameter at our house). And maybe he'll eventually read the chapters about great moments in history, English grammar, and books every boy should read. Do you think I should I point out to him the chapter on girls?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Matthew-isms
Matthew, bless his sweet and loving soul, gets creative when it comes to speaking. I'm not sure if he actually has a hearing problem or if he's just too busy to be bothered with tiny details like pronunciation. (Actually, he passed a hearing test a few months ago so I think it's the second issue.)
He doesn't have a speech impediment, exactly, he just says words in his own way--and he keeps saying them that way until you physically hold him still while repeating the word slowly and carefully several times in his face. Sometimes he remembers, sometimes he just prefers his own version.
The funny thing is, he talks so much and repeats everything he says so often that we hear these words over and over and over until they become part of the family vernacular.
I've already mentioned how Matthew kept trying to find someone to play "fuzzball" [foosball] with--that one stuck. And lately, he's been trying to drum up some players for a game of "Buh-nopoly" [Monopoly].
The other night we passed a refinery with all its lights twinkling (I always think they look like fairyland) and Matthew started going on about "electrikity".
But the most famous Matthew word, of course, was his take on "ice cream". He had my sisters and brother in hysterics last year every time he told them he was having "ass cream" for his treat. And of course they had to keep asking him what he was eating...
Crackers and Two Milks
Why does everything you do with a two-year old have to take twice (or five times) as long?
Example: For breakfast today Maggie chose to have graham crackers and milk. So, grab a cup, pour the milk, break up a graham cracker...quick and simple, right?
Wrong.
First, she had to go back to the cupboard to get out another cup because I forgot she likes to have "two milks" (one to dip her crackers in and one to drink) and, silly me, I only grabbed one cup out of the cupboard initially.
Then came the issue of where to put her to eat her crackers and milk. She won't sit at the kitchen table because, well, she's an independent two-year old and that would be too normal. She often eats at her "baby table"--a nifty little blue plastic table I picked up at IKEA for art projects and child-sized dinner guests--but this morning her doll house was still sitting on it and I guess she didn't to disturb it.
So I suggested she sit on a stool at the kitchen island--a great option because the stools have high backs and arms that keep her in one place. (Maggie tends to be a nomad eater: a bite, wander off, come back for another bite, wander off, forget she was eating until I finally clear it away and then she comes crying to me because she can't find her food.)
Instead of the stool, Maggie chose to eat her breakfast on the kitchen island. "Sit here," she said very decisively as she climbed onto the counter when I tried to put her on the stool.
Me: "No, you can't sit on the counter to eat your crackers and milk. How about you sit on this stool?"
Maggie: "No! Sit here."
Me: "No, you can't sit here...[long-winded explanation why she can't sit on the counter]...I have things to do, Maggie."
Maggie: "Sit here. Crackers and milk."
Me: "Magdalene, you can't sit on the counter." (Getting frustrated because I had been ironing when this simple project began and I'm sure the iron is about to shut itself off by now.)
Maggie: "I know, Mom. Sit here!" as she points to the exact stool I tried to put her in before.
Me: "Great idea! Here're your crackers and two milks." The exchange wasn't quite over yet, we still had to work out such details as exactly how to break up the graham crackers, but luckily I got it nearly right on the first try this morning and the Princess was soon actually eating her breakfast.
Grrrrrr...and laughing to myself because this is how it goes all day long. No wonder I sedate her with Dora and Sponge Bob as long as conscience will allow every morning.
How, how, how am I going to deal with another child in three more months?
Example: For breakfast today Maggie chose to have graham crackers and milk. So, grab a cup, pour the milk, break up a graham cracker...quick and simple, right?
Wrong.
First, she had to go back to the cupboard to get out another cup because I forgot she likes to have "two milks" (one to dip her crackers in and one to drink) and, silly me, I only grabbed one cup out of the cupboard initially.
Then came the issue of where to put her to eat her crackers and milk. She won't sit at the kitchen table because, well, she's an independent two-year old and that would be too normal. She often eats at her "baby table"--a nifty little blue plastic table I picked up at IKEA for art projects and child-sized dinner guests--but this morning her doll house was still sitting on it and I guess she didn't to disturb it.
So I suggested she sit on a stool at the kitchen island--a great option because the stools have high backs and arms that keep her in one place. (Maggie tends to be a nomad eater: a bite, wander off, come back for another bite, wander off, forget she was eating until I finally clear it away and then she comes crying to me because she can't find her food.)
Instead of the stool, Maggie chose to eat her breakfast on the kitchen island. "Sit here," she said very decisively as she climbed onto the counter when I tried to put her on the stool.
Me: "No, you can't sit on the counter to eat your crackers and milk. How about you sit on this stool?"
Maggie: "No! Sit here."
Me: "No, you can't sit here...[long-winded explanation why she can't sit on the counter]...I have things to do, Maggie."
Maggie: "Sit here. Crackers and milk."
Me: "Magdalene, you can't sit on the counter." (Getting frustrated because I had been ironing when this simple project began and I'm sure the iron is about to shut itself off by now.)
Maggie: "I know, Mom. Sit here!" as she points to the exact stool I tried to put her in before.
Me: "Great idea! Here're your crackers and two milks." The exchange wasn't quite over yet, we still had to work out such details as exactly how to break up the graham crackers, but luckily I got it nearly right on the first try this morning and the Princess was soon actually eating her breakfast.
Grrrrrr...and laughing to myself because this is how it goes all day long. No wonder I sedate her with Dora and Sponge Bob as long as conscience will allow every morning.
How, how, how am I going to deal with another child in three more months?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Brrrrrr
This morning I made the mistake of walking Nathan to the bus stop without checking the temperature first.
Bundled in our heavy winter coats, gloves, and Nathan with his double hoods and me in my fancy ear-warmer and scarf combo we made it the quarter mile to the bus stop just fine. But once Nathan got on that nice heated bus and I turned around to head home I realized I was in trouble.
The wind started blowing in my face and I could feel my glasses starting to freeze to the bridge of my nose. I had my eyes half-closed anyway against the wind. So I took my glasses off and carried them as I stumbled blindly in my tennis shoes through the drifted snow that apparently no one can shovel off the sidewalks (not that the sidewalks along our house are exactly free of snow...).
Then I realized that the fuzzy fleece pants that I was wearing, while ultra cozy for snuggling on the couch, are no match for a bitter winter wind. In fact, I began to wonder if I really was wearing any pants at all with the way I could feel the wind freezing my knees. (Remember, I took my glasses off so I couldn't see down there, especially not with a big marshmallow-coated pregnant belly in the way.)
I felt like Pa in Little House on the Prairie when he walks home through a blizzard for Christmas and falls in their old dugout house where he waits out the storm. I kept hoping the ground would open up and swallow me into its warmth. Except I didn't have any oyster crackers and Christmas candy in my pockets to survive on while I waited out the winter, so that might have posed a problem... I probably wouldn't live very long on the plastic grocery bag I keep handy for picking up Sparkles' duties.
Oh yeah, did I mention I was dragging Sparkles? She didn't get to stop and sniff all her favorite spots because we were going to make it home if it killed us. I kept praying she wouldn't get tangled around a signpost like she usually does--I probably would've dropped the leash and left her to fend for herself in the cold (...stupid dog, serves her right if she can't figure out which side of a post to walk on...). And then I would've gone back and died of hypothermia trying to untangle her because I felt bad (...she's just a dumb dog, anyway...).
So we finally tumbled into our blessedly warm, wind-free house where I checked the weather on ksl.com as soon as I thawed out enough to realize my cheeks weren't really frostbitten. 20 degrees with winds at 18 mile per hour. Okay it wasn't that cold, we had weeks in Omaha where the high was 12 degrees and the wind blew right through you coat and all, but it was cold enough this morning that I should have known better and worn warmer pants...or just taken him to school in the heated car.
Bundled in our heavy winter coats, gloves, and Nathan with his double hoods and me in my fancy ear-warmer and scarf combo we made it the quarter mile to the bus stop just fine. But once Nathan got on that nice heated bus and I turned around to head home I realized I was in trouble.
The wind started blowing in my face and I could feel my glasses starting to freeze to the bridge of my nose. I had my eyes half-closed anyway against the wind. So I took my glasses off and carried them as I stumbled blindly in my tennis shoes through the drifted snow that apparently no one can shovel off the sidewalks (not that the sidewalks along our house are exactly free of snow...).
Then I realized that the fuzzy fleece pants that I was wearing, while ultra cozy for snuggling on the couch, are no match for a bitter winter wind. In fact, I began to wonder if I really was wearing any pants at all with the way I could feel the wind freezing my knees. (Remember, I took my glasses off so I couldn't see down there, especially not with a big marshmallow-coated pregnant belly in the way.)
I felt like Pa in Little House on the Prairie when he walks home through a blizzard for Christmas and falls in their old dugout house where he waits out the storm. I kept hoping the ground would open up and swallow me into its warmth. Except I didn't have any oyster crackers and Christmas candy in my pockets to survive on while I waited out the winter, so that might have posed a problem... I probably wouldn't live very long on the plastic grocery bag I keep handy for picking up Sparkles' duties.
Oh yeah, did I mention I was dragging Sparkles? She didn't get to stop and sniff all her favorite spots because we were going to make it home if it killed us. I kept praying she wouldn't get tangled around a signpost like she usually does--I probably would've dropped the leash and left her to fend for herself in the cold (...stupid dog, serves her right if she can't figure out which side of a post to walk on...). And then I would've gone back and died of hypothermia trying to untangle her because I felt bad (...she's just a dumb dog, anyway...).
So we finally tumbled into our blessedly warm, wind-free house where I checked the weather on ksl.com as soon as I thawed out enough to realize my cheeks weren't really frostbitten. 20 degrees with winds at 18 mile per hour. Okay it wasn't that cold, we had weeks in Omaha where the high was 12 degrees and the wind blew right through you coat and all, but it was cold enough this morning that I should have known better and worn warmer pants...or just taken him to school in the heated car.
Monday, January 7, 2008
More Photos from Saturday
The kids all dressed up in their Sunday best for Nathan's baptism. (Maggie kept saying, "No toys. Nay [Nate] baptize." She had to keep checking that we weren't going to make her go to nursery even though she was dressed for church.)
"Ghooooost" is one of Maggie's favorite games.
Aunt Sariah playing with Matthew.
Nathan also had a basketball game on Saturday. He even made a two-point shot! It was a big day for him.
Grandma and Grandpa Camper (and Aunt Sariah) stayed to watch Nathan's game (Grandpa took all the pictures).
Nathan also had a basketball game on Saturday. He even made a two-point shot! It was a big day for him.
Grandma and Grandpa Camper (and Aunt Sariah) stayed to watch Nathan's game (Grandpa took all the pictures).
Maggie brought her binoculars--the better to see Nathan shoot those hoops, even when she's looking through the wrong end.
Nate the Great!
Saturday was a special day for Nathan--he was baptized!
Everyone in our family was there, even Maggie who didn't want to be held for this picture.
Grandpa Camper (along with Grandma and Aunt Sariah) came all the way down from Boise, Idaho to baptize Nathan.
Grandpa Swings confirmed Nathan a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Maggie wouldn't let go of Grandma for this picture--she was still sulking from the last one.)
Great Grandpa and Grandma Cannon drove through a snowstorm just to be there for Nathan's special day.
There were 16 other kids baptized in our stake that day (a new stake record) but it was all so organized and well-run that we were able to have a really nice, private experience.I'm so proud of Nathan for choosing to be baptized; it can't be easy growing up with a dad who doesn't attend church anymore. Brian wasn't thrilled about the whole thing, but at least he was there and supportive of Nathan.
We gave Nathan his own set of green scriptures with a green scripture case--he was so excited. "It even has my name on it. Awesome!" he said. Matthew wanted to know if I had made the scriptures myself since they were engraved with Nathan's name.
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