Entropy in Action

Juliet's adoption is complete!

2012-02-08T21:26:00.005-06:00

Hooray!

This morning we had our adoption court hearing in Salt Lake City. We flew out last night (fussy teething baby plus late night wasn't a great combination) and flew home this afternoon, so it was a whirlwind trip.

Here I am with Juliet in her Adoption dress (aka Christmas dress, I know. I figured I put enough work into it that she better wear it at least once more,'cause it's getting short.)

And adoption court was pretty...um...uneventful. I won't say boring or pointless (though I might think it), because after all, adding this little girl to our lives is a wonderful gift, and we treasure her. But some of the paperwork and legal hoops feel less like treasures, and "rituals" not being particularly important to my personality type, this one felt like rather a bother.

To clarify: many of the adoption court judges in Salt Lake City will waive the requirement for an out-of-state family to appear at their adoption finalization. We drew a fairly new judge, though, and he required us to show up in person with the baby, in order to answer a few earth-shatteringly vital questions like, "Are you married to the man sitting next to you?", "Have you seen this document before? Is that your signature on it?", and "Do you realize that this child will have the same rights as any biological children?" (to which, with an inward eye-roll, I wanted to reply, "um, of COURSE...that's the whole point why we're here!") I confined myself to a polite series of yesses, though, thank you very much!

Here we are in the courtroom with the man I grew to think of, not precisely as Evil Judge, but perhaps as Nitpicky Judge (who was a very nice and kind man who probably cares deeply about the welfare of children, which is why he wanted to see us in person to make sure we're not meth addicts or involved in child buying or something).

Our lawyer (whom we'd never spoken with before) did a fine job, as he ought to for $200/hour or whatever it is we paid him.

And we received an entirely unexpected blessing, too. The adoption agency sent a representative (as apparently they are required to do). After we were finished and waiting for copies of our paperwork, this woman told us that her youngest adopted son was Juliet's double-first-cousin! Jules' birthmom is a twin, and her twin sister had placed her son for adoption five years previously.

This was just so thrilling to me! We have a closed adoption with Juliet (not by our preference), so we do not have any contact with any of her birth family, though if they ever choose to look for us, we've told the agency to please give them our contact info. So while Miles and Eleanor will grow up able to email/call/Facebook/visit with with their birthmothers and even a few other birth relatives, Juliet will likely not have this option. This cousin may be the only relative she would have the option of meeting. And I call him a double-first-cousin because not only are their mothers twins, their fathers (the boyfriends of the respective twins) are apparently also brothers.

AND this adoption worker, bless her heart, brought us copies of a number of photos of her son, of Jamie (Juliet's birthmom) and Jasmine (Marcus' birthmom) with baby Marcus, AND of a young Malasha, Jamie's older daughter and Juliet's full sister, whom she may also never get to meet.

I am getting teary just writing about this, but the thoughtfulness of this other adoptive mother really blessed me, and I hope I can do the same for someone someday. What a gift: the gift of family, of origins, of a biological connection to someone. Juliet may never desire that, may never care; I know some adopted children don't. But I am so grateful to have this to share with her just in case she does!

unwelcome surprise

2012-02-03T13:13:00.004-06:00

It's been a bit of a rough week. First, I hurt my back working out on Tuesday (not seriously injured, just stressed/sore/strained muscles), so going up stairs or bending over to pick up anything at all has been challenging. Also on Tuesday, our stove died, right in the middle of a massive amount of freezer cooking. So now I have a fridge full of chopped vegetables and raw chicken, and I have no way to make the appropriate sauces to complete the dishes. The replacement part is ordered, but will take a week to get here.

Incidentally, do you know how hard it is to come up with a non-cereal breakfast without a stove? Eggs...no. Pancakes..no. Oatmeal...no. I know many of those have a baked version, but that takes a lot more time to cook and plan-ahead-ability. And most of my go-to quickie dinners also involve the stove. Macaroni and cheese? Pasta with some kind of sauce and sauteed veggies? Stir-fry with rice? Even breakfast-for-dinner? All out.

So today, I've been icing my back and lying on the sofa as much as possible, which isn't as much as I'd like. The kids are playing quietly downstairs (always a bad sign, I know). Juliet wakes up and I head downstairs to see...this.

"Mommy, we knew you weren't feeling well, so we made ourselves sandwiches! And we made you one. Smashed cheese!"

Eleanor adds, "Yes, peanut-butter and cheese!"

Miles: "There's a BIG glob of peanut butter on the floor. But we put it on a towel!"

Thanks, guys.

Here is Miles' sandwich:

It's basically crumbled cheese with about a fourth of a cup of Miracle Whip Light. A closer look:

Eleanor's may look better at first glance, but believe me, it's not.

She apparently opened my new jar of peanut butter, and slathered it on. No jam, nothing but a THIRD OF A JAR of peanut butter! I kid you not, this sandwich is an inch and a half thick. Did she eat it? Well, she started to. I think she got full after about 3 bites. So she says, "It's OK, I'll save it for Daddy!" So we did.

Trying to figure out my daughter

2012-01-23T10:09:00.005-06:00

I know that all parents have that, "What on earth is my child thinking? Why is he acting this way? I just don't understand!" reaction fairly often. And while I know all children are little mysteries, my older daughter sometimes is more of a mystery to me than I would like.

I typically find myself describing her as "stubborn" or "a little strong-willed", and while that is accurate, it does not fully describe the aspect of her personality I can't figure out. Here is a prime example:

Last night we were playing a family game of Uno. Both kids enjoy it, and while Eleanor needs a bit of prompting, matching the colors or numbers is well within her grasp at this point. But the game goes sort of like this:

"OK, Eleanor, it's a blue 2. Do you have a blue card?" (since she can't hold all her cards, they're sitting on the table, making it pretty easy to help her out.)

She smirks, hides her cards in her lap for a moment, and pulls out a green card! She knows perfectly well it's green, but chooses it anyway.

Several times, she figured out an appropriate card to play by herself. Once, she played it in the right place...but upside down. Once, she played it on top of the deck we draw from. Once, she tried to play it but hide it under some other cards in the stack. Once, she tried to play two (appropriate) cards.

She loves playing Wild cards, and whacks them down with gusto. But when we ask, "What color do you want it to be?" she won't ever say a color. She clams up, and eventually will hold out a card from her hand and wave it at us, and we say, "OK, Eleanor picks yellow" or whatever.

She likes to deal, but after going around the circle adding cards once, she wants to switch directions. Then she wants to start in a different spot.

She wants to play. She even likes to win (though she doesn't at all mind losing). She does not want to quit...but she doesn't want to follow the social "rules" of appropriate behavior when playing a game. In linguistics, we'd maybe say that she is flouting the maxim of cooperation, or that she does not understand or care about the pragmatics of the situation.

The Uno example is just kind of cute and silly, but it really exemplifies her behavior in all areas of life. Basically, she does not ever want to cooperate or do what she's "supposed" to do. Why on earth not? This is so unlike me, my spouse, and my older son that I'm not sure how to handle it.

Often, like in an Uno game, it's not important enough to need to "handle". But envision this kind of reaction - not quite rebelling but definitely not obeying - every time you ask her to do anything: put away your toys, stop sitting on your baby sister, hold hands while crossing the street, tell me what sound that letter makes, be respectful to your babysitter. Sometimes reverse psychology does work on her, and sometimes bribery or threats work. But sometimes nothing does. And I don't want to resort to bribery or threats; eventually, shouldn't pleasing mom/dad/teacher/friends/God be a reward in itself? The intrinsic societal and spiritual reward of cooperation and obedience? (I know, I know; this is my natural people-pleaser personality talking.)

So what IS this behavior? Yes, she's three and a half; I don't expect perfection, but I also know a whole lot of other three year olds. The compliant ones tend to cooperate, the strong-willed ones will throw tantrums when thwarted. Is this being passive aggressive? Is this just a different kind of strong-willed behavior? Is she just trying to be cute, or creative? Does she just want extra attention?

I should note that I haven't noticed this behavior much when she's playing with other kids, or at least when she's playing with Miles. I also don't see it as much in class situations; she seems to listen to and more or less follow directions in gymnastics, in Sunday School, and in swimming (though it's possible her teachers might disagree with me here!) But with authority figures whom she knows well - mom, dad, grandparents, babysitters, etc. - it appears pretty regularly. Is that because she knows those people well and is comfortable with them?

And most important of all, how do I teach a child like this? How can I encourage her to obey, to cooperate? I pray that her stubbornness and creativity will turn into assets for her as she grows up; I know they can be great strengths if she learns how to harness them. But a child who does not respect authority or any kind of convention is not going to be well-liked or successful in life.

Being a "trailblazer", going her own way, being unconventional - those describe choices we make as adults that can be great life decisions. But somehow, I have to teach my daughter to function in society without society crushing her before she reaches adulthood, because a lifetime spent in time-outs and detentions and being held back a grade and being avoided by other children just cannot be good for her psyche no matter how independent-minded she is.

Advice welcome!

conversations in the car

2011-12-14T19:06:00.002-06:00

So we're driving along, and I'm trying to lead the conversation away from "what I want for Christmas" and toward "what would Jesus like for a birthday present? What makes Jesus happy?"

Miles responds, "but we haven't SEEN Jesus...not for a while."

Eleanor, in utter disdain, retorts, "No, you have to DIE to see Jesus."

Miles objects rather incoherently.

With total confidence, Eleanor assures him, "Oh yes. You are going to die."

boy or girl?

2011-11-10T18:20:00.003-06:00

So today at one of Scott's innumerable doctor's appointments, a well-meaning older lady asked if Juliet was a boy or a girl.

This is what she was wearing:

We've got a pink outfit with embroidered flowers, pink satin bows, a pink tulle ruffle, and pink-and-purple butterfly shoes.

People, I realize this may not be the face that launched a thousand ships, but surely that outfit doesn't scream "BOY" in our culture, does it?

Incidentally, Juliet is getting better at sitting up. That's not to say "good", but she can balance for a while if we're lucky. Here she is midway down on the descent - I'm just including this photo because it's about the only one where we've caught her smiling so far!

another new hairdo and the comment that inspired it

2011-11-02T20:10:00.004-05:00

And I outdid myself this time. At least, Eleanor sure thinks so, judging from the amount of complaining she did. We did "star" braids on each side of her head, coming together to form two little pigtails of braids.

The problem here is that, because her hair is so short and fine, these braids will start to get fuzzy in just a few days, and will be past my fuzziness-toleration-quotient in a couple weeks. So all this work will need to be picked out and redone. On the plus side, I think I'm getting faster; this style only took about two-three hours over the course of two days.

Funny story (or funny if you weren't me): I was down at the Moody Church Halloween festival with the kids, and it was a nice diverse crowd. Eleanor's costume is a flamingo with a big feathered flamingo hat. Very cute. But she stopped wanting to wear the hat about halfway through the evening, and so I was holding it. Unfortunately, we had taken out her last set of braids the previous evening, then washed her hair and combed it out into what was (I thought) a cute little Afro with a headband. I usually let her hair "rest" for a few days between braided styles, both to let her follicles relax and because after picking it all out, I just don't have the energy or time to tackle another complicated hairstyle immediately.

But I guess I should have taken the trouble this time. Her little Afro got smashed flat and funny looking under the hat, and in addition gathered tiny pink feather lint all over it. And then she insists on removing the hat. And this very kind, well-intentioned African-American woman walks over to me, and asks, "Are those your foster kids?" I say, "Well, they're adopted, but they're my kids, yes." She takes my hand, leans in, and gently asks, "Do you have any African-American friends who can help you with her hair? Do you know how to do it? I would be glad to help out if you need some help."

Sigh.

It was a kind offer, and I admit, Eleanor's hair did look unfortunately like "white mama hair." I politely tried to explain the situation and I hope I came across not too defensive. But now I know I need to plan better: if we're going to be in public, I guess her hair needs a bit more style (this coming from the woman whose only hairdo is a ponytail).

Or else we need to invest in hats.

the aviary

2011-11-01T10:13:00.003-05:00

Our thanks to Aunt Cammie for the hand-me-down mother/baby flamingo costumes! We got lots of compliments on them. And Miles was an owl, in case you couldn't tell.

a warning

2011-10-31T16:08:00.003-05:00

If you drill a hole into your femur, you might end up looking like this:

my first 10k...almost

2011-10-26T13:33:00.003-05:00

Gratuitous bragging and self-aggrandizement ahead; be warned!

OK, it was actually a 9k. But who runs a 9k? Now I feel slightly guilty, though, as if I need to run a REAL 10k in order to validate myself saying I ran one. But I doubt I feel guilty enough to actually sign up for one, since it's getting colder and mornings are almost too dark for running. Wait, will going off Daylight Savings Time help there, or not...think think think...fall BACK...so yes, that means I will have more morning daylight! Bummer. It was a good excuse.

For the race planners, I note: it's discouraging to be told that there will be pace markers set up to get us organized at the start line, and then to discover that the markers are for 6, 8, and 10 minute mile pace, and anyone slower than 10 minutes per miles is relegated to the baby jogger section. Couldn't you have stuck in an 11 or 12 minute pace marker, just to make me feel like a real runner?

On the plus side: our race times came out today, and while I am definitely in the slower 50% of the "racers", only ONE woman over age 70 finished before me! Actually, I am wondering if their timer was a bit off, because it says I ran, on average, a 10:38 mile. People, for me, that's FAST; compare that to the previous weekend's 5k where I ran about a 11:20 mile (which actually was fast for me, too; I tend to estimate a 12:00 mile). And I didn't feel fast; I felt like I could barely shuffle my Sudafed-and-Mucinex-laden body along. So my theory is that their timer is off, rather like my iPod pedometer which insists that I actually ran 8 miles or so. I know there's a way to calibrate the darn thing, but I followed the instructions and ended up with it still thinking I'm running 6-7 minute miles. Heh.

The best part of this race? I actually remembered to bring a wad of Kleenex with me. Being able to blow my nose every kilometer or so was pure heaven, compared to just trying to sniff and dab ineffectually at the corners of my nose with my race T-shirt.

things I might want to remember someday

2011-09-27T17:43:00.000-05:00

my kids, sitting around the dinner table, loudly singing, "I love rock-n-roll; put another dime in the JUICEBOX baby!"

Classic example of American overconfidence: I'm explaining to the kids why I would not be a good gymnastics teacher. For one thing, I can't even do a cartwheel! In perfect unison, both kids chime in with an, "I CAN!!" And no, they can't. Aunt Cammie spent a few minutes over Labor Day showing them the general concept, but their version is not even close yet.

Miles, talking about his tap class: "It was all commotion-ful!"

Juliet's first almost-laugh!

Eleanor, cheerfully: "Mommy, if our new baby dies, I can scoot my bed back in that room!"

My new pet

2011-09-26T22:08:00.005-05:00

After 12 years of sewing with the machine my dear husband bought me for our first anniversary (or was it my birthday? Anyway, it was early in our marriage) I have finally upgraded. Technology has come a long way, and I feel like I've been driving my whole life in a 1985 Dodge Colt and have suddenly been plopped in a...well, OK, perhaps not a Bentley, but at least a Honda Accord?

In short, I am really enjoying my new sewing machine. Yes, I spent about four months of my monthly cash allowance on it, but normally I would just put that in my "Ski Fund" and then not actually get to go skiing more than once each winter anyway.

Why, you ask, do I not go skiing when I do indeed love it so much, I do actually own my own gear, and it is one of the few sports I'm actually pretty good at? Well, several reasons, most of them having to do with my inner cheapskate. First, the skiing near Chicago is pretty bad, AND a long drive, AND still costs at least $50/day. Second, I don't always have someone to go with; Scott doesn't really enjoy skiing or snowboarding and my few friends who ski don't necessarily want to take an entire weekend away from their families to ski on hills with only a 400 foot drop. Third, the three dwarfish humans living in my house don't like being left behind, and yet I am FAR too cheap to shell out an additional $45 per child for ski "daycare." Yes, I have had dreams of teaching my children to ski and all of us happily inhabiting the slopes in our winter free time. And then I notice my budget and my snow-hating husband and realize there are better ways to spend family bonding time. So skiing really is a "me" thing, and any of you who are married or moms know that "me" things often need to take a back seat to "us" things.

But back to my sewing. Anyway, I am not a brilliant, extremely skilled, or terribly creative seamstress, but my mom did teach me the basics as a kid, and I'm trying to learn a bit more off the internet where I can. I have a backlog of about 12 projects, and I've worked my way through six of them in the last week or two. Now, unfortunately, I've done all the quick, easy, and interesting projects and am left with the painful, the tedious, or the dauntingly difficult. But here's what we've got so far:

A red satin brocade dress for Nora. The mandarin collar was a total pain, but the rest of it was pretty straightforward. Sadly for me, I didn't realize that satin MELTS, so the dress has a couple scorched spots from a too-high iron setting. Since I had put a lot of work into it already before I cooked it, I figured I'd go ahead and finish it and make her wear it anyway; maybe no one will notice those strange splotches on the side seam...

A pleated pink corduroy skirt, also for Nora (Juliet got a matching one, not pictured, which has to be the fastest thing I've ever made; it took about 11 minutes to sew a tiny, elastic-topped skirt for her.) I'm not thrilled with this; the corduroy is actually too lightweight for what I had envisioned, and I need to add some sort of trim because it's a bit boring looking. Maybe a contrasting fabric rosette? Ideas, anyone? Also, even though I took in 2 1/2 inches on the skirt, it is still baggy on my skinny daughter. OK, when her waist size is 18", why does a 3T pattern come in a 22" waist size? Guess I should've gone with my instincts and shrunk it even more.

This was inspired by an adorable dress I saw at Janie and Jack. I fell in love with it, but seriously, $49.99 for a knit T-shirt dress with some ribbon? I can do that. And I did. This was way easy, and almost identical to the one at J&J, except that I made it 2 inches skinnier and an inch longer. It fits Eleanor like a dream, and looks really cute over black leggings (which I bought; why sew something you can buy for $5 at Target?) Cost: about $7. HA!

Finally (and I'm most proud of these) cute plaid jumpers for both girls. This is Juliet's. I sort of went out on a limb and tried some ideas out. Here, I added black velveteen seam binding to the arm and neck holes. This was also my first experience trying to match plaids, and I must admit, it turned out great! (Although, I ask you, since when is a "wool blend" actually 95% polyester? Hmm? Oh well, at least maybe they won't shrink terribly if I accidentally dry them.)

The trim on the bottom is kind of spiffy; it's black jumbo rickrack holding the band to the main part of the dress, so you can actually see through the gaps. Cool.

And here's the one for Eleanor. It's actually not lopsided; that's just how it's hanging on the hanger. I think I overdid the ruffles a bit - they're puffier than I would have liked - but it's pretty cute on her. I still need to make a black velveteen bow to stick on the drop-waist there, so it's not quite done.

Remaining projects: two gifts, one owl Halloween costume, and two "fancy" taffeta Christmas dresses with, of all things, hand-embroidery on them (well, the pattern says they're SUPPOSED to have embroidery; I am not sure that's within my grasp). Oh, and one pile of material intended, in a moment of supreme foolishness, to produce a skirt for myself. No pattern; I just saw fabric I liked and thought, oh, I bet I can design a skirt. Um, hello? Know thyself, right? Wrong.

just a few photos

2011-09-20T16:18:00.006-05:00

Mommy is finally getting better at Eleanor's hair - we got a pretty good braided hairstyle in less than two hours! Yippee!

Eleanor, however, did NOT want her photo taken. Grouchy girl.

from a recent playground trip: my handsome son

Daddy and Nora swinging

Miles can finally make it across the monkey bars! Now if he'll just let us take the training wheels off his bike...

So the weather's getting cooler, and we REALLY need to buy Juliet some socks. She's borrowing Eleanor's right now:

And finally, an almost-decent photo of all three children (Juliet is truly more attractive than this, but she was on the brink of a meltdown and NOT smiling). Thanks to my friend Kris for sewing Eleanor, yes, a dress that matches the one she made for Juliet! The girls looked pretty cute, and Miles his usual dapper self.

bedtime stories with Daddy

2011-09-01T22:04:00.002-05:00

OK, so this went on for an hour before someone noticed and said, "Hey, I thought Scott was reading TO Miles?"

Bringing home Juliet

2011-08-24T20:43:00.009-05:00

So a lot has been happening, but I do owe it to our new arrival to put up some photos!

Juliet Thalia Lee, born August 2, adopted August 4, home from Utah August 14. Here she is, wearing a gorgeous hand-sewn dress from our dear friend Kris. How she sewed this and mailed it in time to reach us a few days after we got home ourselves, I have no idea. It's also the only thing we own tiny enough to fit Juliet.

Both big brother and sister are enamored.

Of course, their enthusiastic "helping" has to be carefully monitored; Eleanor in particular thinks she herself is much stronger and wiser in baby lore than she actually is. ("But mommy, baby Juliet WANTS a pruntzel (pretzel)!" "OK, mommy, I will carry Juliet downstairs and hold her on my lap for you." "Mommy, the baby is CRYING!" (while we are driving home from church, stating the painfully obvious))

But they are pretty sweet together...

And of course, the obligatory bathtub photo (with gracefully draped washcloth). She really loves her bath!

Juliet had her first doctor's appointment today, and apparently is pretty healthy and normal, by the way. But ridiculously short (3rd percentile for height)! At this rate she'll never be able to wear Eleanor's clothes, which would be a tragedy to make me weep...

Nora's first professional hairstyle

2011-08-24T20:35:00.003-05:00

We had our first morning with "Miss Tamekia" today, and I am totally sold! This wonderful stylist/hair consultant came to our house, gave me a 45-minute lesson on improving my hairstyling techniques, then braided Eleanor's hair (about six times faster than I can), and THEN took me to the store to buy styling products so I can try to copy the process. Eleanor has "fancy" hair now, and I have a new arsenal of ideas and equipment (and now I know why my braids get fuzzy so quickly, how to get my twists to stay put, how to get my knots not to come undone, etc). Besides being good at what she does, this is a lovely and friendly woman who answered all my questions and made both of us feel totally comfortable. I am DEFINITELY bringing her back.

A couple photos (I added the beads myself):

In case you can't tell, she has a zigzag part in front with braids going perpendicular to each other, with two "star" clusters of braids in back coming together to make pigtails of braids, and then some vertical braids at the bottom.

Incidentally, doesn't my daughter have a lovely profile?

How kids perceive race?

2011-08-01T16:05:00.006-05:00

You've probably heard that, in general, people have more trouble distinguishing members of other races than members of their own, right? That is, white people have trouble telling Asians apart; Asians have trouble telling African-Americans apart, etc.

So we're looking at photos this afternoon, and Eleanor says, "Is that you, Mommy?"

I say, "No, that's Aunt Gina. And we don't really look very much alike!"

Miles contradicts, "But you have the same skin!"

OK, if that's all it takes, I guess we do look alike... For that matter, how many times have I been asked if Miles and Eleanor are twins? And so far, with only one exception, it's never been African-Americans making that comment. So truly, do my children look that alike to white people? Because they don't to me.

Just an interesting point to ponder.

brief followup to the randomness

2011-07-27T16:49:00.001-05:00

We're walking through the grocery store, and I tell Eleanor, "OK, we've got to look for some Worcestershire sauce."

She cheerfully responds, "WE worship GOD!"

misdirected prayer

2011-07-24T13:29:00.003-05:00

So we're driving home from church and I ask Miles about the lion puppets he made in Sunday School. It turns out they're learning about Daniel and the lions, and (after some prodding) he tells me Daniel had to go in there because he disobeyed God.

I try to clarify: no, Daniel obeyed God and disobeyed the king, who made a rule that you could only pray to the king, not to God. I go on to say that the Bible tells us we should always only pray to God.

"Why?" asks my practical son. "We could just pray to both; that would be OK!"

Well, no, I explain. Praying to someone else would hurt God's feelings (I left it at that).

Silent until now, Eleanor pipes up. "How about we pray to chickens?!"

Um....

in search of free kindle books

2011-06-09T11:05:00.003-05:00

From the back-of-book blurb: "Romanced by the light of the triple moons, entranced by Mathin’s fiery kisses, will Andrea give up her home on Earth in exchange for something wild?'"

And the author's name is - wait for it...Autumn Dawn!

Um, I'm almost tempted to download it just to see if it could possibly be as bad as these indicators would suggest. Or maybe not.

Dentist battle won!

2011-06-09T10:33:00.003-05:00

This is a very boring post, but I needed to vent!

A couple months ago, I was at my dentist checking out, and the chipper administrative girl tells me that if I sign up for their in-office savings plan, it will allow me to pay less than my dental insurance plan will. Hmm. I look at the numbers she's showing me, and they don't seem to make sense. I am pretty good at math, and it seems like my overall liability OUGHT to be less than the $95 she's quoting me (and I'm not complaining; $95 for a same-day visit to fill in a chipped tooth is not a bad deal). But I can't seem to make the girl understand the math as I see it, so I just pay the $95 and leave.

Last week, I get an EOB from our dental plan, which says I SHOULD have owed only $79.60. I call the office, and they say, no, because they're not in-network, so I would be liable for the full amount, not the "contracted" amount. But they told me they were in network! And so did my dental plan! The woman is getting rather snippy and fed up with me now.

I call my dental plan, who says, yes, they ARE in network, and the amount on my EOB is the total I should pay. She offers to call Miss Snippy for me. I accept gratefully.

A few minutes later, I hear from Miss Snippy, who is now Miss Polite and Apologetic. She says, well, whaddya know, they are in network for my super-special plan, apparently. She still thinks I owe them an extra $50 for my deductible. I go over the math with her again to show her that it's already included in my total. She is confused, and calls my dental plan back.

A few minutes later, she calls back, confirms that I was right from the beginning, and will issue me a check to refund my $15.40.

Was it worth it for $15? Probably not, particularly as I get all adrenaline-full and miserable and stomach-upset when I'm in conflict with anyone, even a dental billing office. But I knew I was right. And I have to hope that maybe I'm striking a blow for the other confused customers who are maybe not as good at math, not as assertive, or don't have the time to put up a fight for a few bucks. I wonder how much extra a doctor or dentist can take in "accidentally" simply because of people who don't have the time or knowledge to get errors corrected?

Besides, it was a nice break from cleaning my oven.

A first lost tooth...

2011-06-02T18:18:00.003-05:00

...and I DO mean lost. It's probably being slowly digested along with tonight's chicken pot pie.

Miles is very proud (and also slightly worried, I think).

Now I'm wishing I hadn't spent the money to take him to the dentist yesterday (yesterday!) I was worried because his gums had been bleeding a lot and looked like they were receding. (The dentist said he was fine and offered to pull the tooth out; Miles politely declined.) Now I just feel like a type-A overprotective mommy.

Our even-more-gap-toothed son is now out with Daddy getting some ice cream, the treat I had promised. I hadn't yet decided whether to do the tooth fairy routine or not, and since this tooth has conveniently disappeared, maybe I won't need to decide for a while yet.

A few Memorial Day photos

2011-05-29T15:43:00.009-05:00

It was a long road trip to Baltimore. Yes, I'm grateful for the minivan and the newly-repaired DVD player (which we hardly used, actually). But I was less grateful for the pouring rain we experienced along almost the entire drive, turning our trip into a grueling 14.5 hours - we arrived at about 5 am, and the last three hours were by far the hardest.

It's great to be here with Uncle David, Aunt Gina, and cousin Isaac, though. Miles and Eleanor took to baby Isaac (aka "MY cousin" as per Eleanor) right away.

Charlie the cat took a little longer to warm up, and Elmer the mostly-labrador is still the terror of Nora's young life, causing shrieks of panic whenever he enters the room. Seriously, I don't remember ever being scared of dogs; how did fear develop?

Uncle David made Miles' day by finding him a helicopter to visit, at the Fort Mead museum.

We also climbed around on the tanks...

---until we noticed this sign. Oops!

Yesterday morning we went strawberry picking. The kids helped mostly by eating, but the adults managed to collect enough for a strawberry custard, strawberry pie, strawberry syrup, and who knows what else.

We also splashed around in David's tiny backyard pool. Here's my photogenic husband with the dripping kids:

David also took some family photos, which were unusual in that I looked pretty decent (as if I have a chin) in most of them, while the kids were both grouchy and glaring in most.

Mother's Day...

2011-05-08T09:36:00.002-05:00

...and I finally received the traditional pasta necklace! You know you're a real mom when your kids make you a necklace out of dyed penne, right?

And yes, I am being the good mom and WEARING the pasta necklaces. Today, at least.

backhanded compliment

2011-05-07T21:17:00.001-05:00

As I was leaving tonight for an audition, Eleanor says,

"Wow, you look really pretty, Mommy!"

Miles chimes in, "Yeah. Much better than before."

Thanks, kid.

Eleanor's butterfly birthday party

2011-05-07T16:40:00.012-05:00

So I settled on a butterfly theme for Nora's 3rd birthday. We invited over six of her three- and almost-three-year-old girlfriends, played a couple games, made a craft, and ate snacks and cupcakes. It went off pretty well! I am convinced that for this age, a morning time slot and brief duration (less than 90 minutes) are key.

Here's Eleanor in her butterfly dress (which I made last fall, but she hadn't gotten to wear yet), matching beads on her braids, and the blingy necklace and bracelet I made her for her birthday (real pearls and Swarovski crystal, thank you very much!) Of course, after about five minutes, she got tired of them and whined until I took the necklace and bracelet off. Sigh. Oh well; maybe in a few months I can win her over.

The bracelet, complete with butterfly charm.

I also made matching name bracelets as party favors for all her little friends, rather than the usual goody bags full of candy and small things to lose or throw away.

As the girls arrived, we gave them each "butterfly antenna" headbands to wear. We played "pin (well, tape) the antenna on the butterfly" first. Butterfly poster courtesy of Scott!

Then we headed downstairs to make our craft: tissue paper flowers. I tried to pick something within a three-year-old's grasp, but I overestimated; it was beyond one of the parents, too! The girls liked the flowers, though their involvement basically extended to choosing the colors of tissue paper.

Our final activity was supposed to be a butterfly hunt (like an Easter Egg hunt ) but I couldn't find any tiny plastic butterflies, so instead we hunted for the butterfly's "friends" (snakes, lizards, frogs, and other bugs), which Scott hid around the upstairs during craft time.

For snack/lunch, we had fruit, "caterpillars in cocoons" (aka pigs in blankets, but I thought my renaming was fairly clever), and tiny finger sandwiches in the shapes of butterflies and flowers.

And of course, the piece de resistance: butterfly cupcakes!

I made eighteen of them, in pink and yellow. The wings and antenna are made out of chocolate and pastel melts, freehanded onto wax paper and then wedged into the frosting with some chocolate frosting for bodies. Pretty cute!

It was kind of hard to fit candles on, though!

All in all, a good party! And this afternoon, the whole family got naps, so a good day for all!

I have a sweet, sweet son

2011-04-29T17:40:00.005-05:00

Today, during "rest time" (we've abolished naptime in favor of quiet in-room play now), Miles decided to write some letters, probably inspired by the Frog and Toad story, "The Letter".

Before dinner tonight, he proudly brought his efforts to me. He wrote one letter for Mom, one for Dad, and one for Miss "Lora".

Here's mine:

Transliteration:

DEAR MOM
IM GALD (glad) YOU
CARE ABUT (about)
ME ALL THE
TIME AND E-
VER (ever)

People, I am saving this one.

I'm also relatively impressed by his spelling, if not necessarily his four-year-old-boy manual dexterity.

Dad's and Laura's involve random crayon colors that don't photograph well, and I think he left some words out or mixed them up on Dad's (It says, "Dear Dad, Time you home come live (or lie?) down me I with love Dad.") I think this refers to looking forward to Scott coming home (he's out of town this week), and how they like to snuggle in Miles' bed when Scott reads to him at bedtime. It's a little convoluted, but obviously lovingly meant.

a few Easter photos

2011-04-24T22:53:00.011-05:00

The family on the porch, in our Easter finery. Scott is of the school of thought that a guy ought to wear a suit on Easter and Christmas, at least, and he's pulling Miles in his footsteps (although I've been far too cheap to actually buy Miles a suit yet). Who would've guessed that the guy I started dating in college - the one who owned one tie and whose "dressy" pants were the corduroy ones without holes - would turn out so dapper?

You can't tell, but I actually was wearing pantyhose, a skirt, and a modicum of makeup! A red letter day for sure.

Eleanor shows off the Easter dress I made her. It has a very fluffy skirt, which she likes, and a giant bow on the back, which annoys her. I am far from a brilliant seamstress, and this was only my second try at going "off the pattern," so to speak. I took elements I liked from two patterns and a couple other dresses I had seen and tried to create my own. It mostly worked.

I note, I am also getting better at braiding. I intended to braid her entire head in sort of a zigzag pattern, but after the first two hours, I decided we'd be in better spirits for Easter if I just left it.

Nora's pink painted toenails and new summer sandals. I didn't notice they had a heel until I brought them home (who puts a heel on toddler shoes? I mean, this shoe was available in a size 5, which is barely walking for a lot of kids.) Oh well. She looks VERY tall now.

The highlight of Miles' Easter basket: a $1 toy that launches a helicopter/fan blade-like thingie into the air. We've already lost one thingie on the garage roof; only two to go.

Encouraging note: I didn't include much edible in the kids' baskets: a pair of socks, a book, a seed kit to plant, a small toy, a box of tic-tacs, 4 mini chocolate eggs (jellybean size), one candy necklace, 3 gummi bunnies, and one egg full of jellybeans. To me, this seemed modest at best (which was my aim). I was pleased to see Eleanor exclaim excitedly, "Wow! We have LOTS of candy!"

Now, how do I help my kids continue to be content with what, by US standards, is perhaps a paltry amount of spoils? That's a question for a lot of areas in life, I suppose: how do we maintain an attitude of contentment in a culture of excess? Something I ponder, but haven't reached any light-bulb moments yet. I'll let you know if I do. (And yes, I do realize this has connections to the food issues that have plagued me for most of my life. No easy solutions there yet, either.)

Coy...

...and not so coy!

Guess who seems to have inherited Mommy's smug smile?

The angelic siblings. This is about 20 seconds before Eleanor revolted and, in tears, declared it was HER turn with the helicopter/fanblade thingie and she wasn't going to smile for any more photos. In fairness, it was past lunchtime, and she doesn't do well on an empty stomach.

A big Daddy-hug made everything all better, for a few minutes at least.

Why is it that Scott is so much more photogenic than I am? Or perhaps I should claim it's my own skill with the camera?

Miles and his Daddy. For a very wiggly, can't-sit-still four-year-old, he is still wonderfully cuddly. Sitting "next to" always ends up as sitting "on." Sometimes at the dinner table, he just reaches over and wants to hold hands with me or Scott. And sad to say, his most annoying habit (which I'm trying to learn not to be annoyed by) is his habit of reaching over and fiddling with my ponytail when we are both reading next to each other. I note: this is Miles I'm talking, about, not Scott. Anyway, I am guessing that "touch" is one of his love languages for sure!

brief anecdote

2011-04-21T14:58:00.002-05:00

Eleanor: Mommy, do you have your teeth out?

me: (no idea what she's talking about) Um...what do you mean, honey?

Eleanor: Daddy left his teeth out.

me: (still no idea) Are you sure? I think Daddy has all his teeth in his mouth still.

Eleanor: No. Daddy left his teeth at Mr. Dan and Miss Amie's.

me: (light slowly dawning) Oh! Well, yes, Daddy left his BLUEtooth at Mr. Dan and Miss Amie's. So...um...yes, but that's a different kind of tooth. Never mind.

And another thing I'll miss when it goes away: Eleanor's "Windy da Pooh." Makes me giggle.

Have been frantically busy lately, but hope to have some time to catch up on blogging, low priority that it is...

not the best day

2011-03-23T21:02:00.003-05:00

It was a rainy morning. Which means I slept very well, and found it difficult to get up. In fact, I shut off my alarm and just lay in bed until Miles woke me up (which I knew he would do sooner or later). We were lazy in bed together until Eleanor joined us. I asked her to go potty, but she refused to do so without help, and I was just too drowsy. Until she started crying that she peed in her diaper, and - waddling like a bowlegged duck - finally agreed to go to the bathroom. Then I had to get up.

I skipped my workout (it was too late, after all) and decided to do creative projects with the kids: namely, I chopped up a cardboard box in to millions (actually 121) tiny pieces, and with their tempera paints, painted different colored numerals on each one. It was my intent to make a version of the "Math-It" game I played with in my homeschooled childhood, to encourage Miles to learn his addition facts. And the game creation went pretty well. The kids entertained themselves for an abysmally short time stringing beads onto necklaces with the new blunt needles I had bought especially for the purpose. Eleanor then went around whacking things with Miles' plastic ruler. And I kid you not, twelve seconds after I said, "Nora, please don't hit things with the ruler; it might break and you would hurt yourself," it happened. The ruler shattered, and one piece grazed her eyeball. She's crying, I'm panicking, and Miles is screaming his head off that she broke HIS ruler! Her eye bled a tiny bit, but she stopped crying rapidly, and it looked like just a scrape on the white part of her left eye. She seemed fine, but I dutifully called the pediatrician to see what he thought, and NATURALLY he said he thought I ought to take her to the ER to get checked out. We don't mess around with eye injuries, he says.

OK, fine. Miles is still howling about his broken ruler, while Nora is excitedly repeating, "We get to go to the doctor now? I get to see the doctor. He will look at my eye. Can we go now, Mommy? My eye is OK. But the doctor will look at it. Let's go to the doctor!" You get the idea.

IS there a good ER to go to with small children? I dread it. Swedish Covenant has a nice waiting room, but nary a toy or a children's magazine. The attractive fishtank amuses for a while, but not for an hour and a half, I'm afraid. Anyway, after 90 minutes of trying to keep my whining, overactive, and starving children from drumming on the backs of grouchy sick people's chairs, tapping on the fishtank glass, swinging on the velvet ropes marking out the place to stand in line, running laps around the waiting room, and slaloming around frail old ladies in walkers, we finally got in for our 30 seconds with the doctor. She looked at Nora's eye, said "She seems fine, right? I don't think we need to bother checking the cornea. It looks fine to me. Here's a prescription for some antibiotic eye drops just to keep infection at bay."

OK, my doctor could have done that. WAY faster. And cheaper. (Did I mention how long we had to play Ring-around-the rosy, London bridge, and "let's pretend we are seeds growing into plants" in the tiny cubicle before the doctor even showed UP?)

What a waste of a day.

Now I'm sitting on the sofa feeling VERY frustrated with my attempt to translate Mandan (an almost extinct Native American language). I'm supposed to be presenting my "findings" at a symposium in three weeks, and I don't HAVE any findings, and it's ruining the precious remainder of my spring break. Why did I sign up for this?

disillusioned

2011-03-20T22:09:00.003-05:00

I was working on Eleanor's hair the other morning (is it just me or do a lot of my anecdotes start out like that? Somehow I think this hair thing is consuming more of my time than I realize.) Eleanor, bored, starts fiddling around with the plastic container of shea butter (for her skin, not hair).

Eleanor: Thank you, God, for this!

me, thinking to myself: how sweet! Something is sinking in!

A few moments later, Eleanor still can't get the plastic tub open.

Eleanor: This is too hard, God!

me, thinking to myself: oh look, and now she's taking her little problems to God. Wow!

Another moment passes.

Eleanor: I am God.

me, thinking to myself: oh, dear. So much for that.

a touching surprise

2011-03-16T22:46:00.003-05:00

This afternoon, I heard an unexpected sound: my doorbell. I wasn't expecting a student, and didn't see the UPS truck out the window, so I figured it was some marketing/sales type, and grudgingly went to open my door and say I wasn't interested.

Instead, I found two of my former ESL students! And I am ashamed to admit, one of my first thoughts was, "Oh no! High-context culture (theirs) means I have to invite them in, feed them, and sit and chat for AGES when I have a huge presentation due tonight that I intended to spend my precious "naptime" hours working on."

Anyway, I smiled, hugged them, and proceeded to, yes, invite them in, offer something to drink, and sit down with them. Incidentally, I had never had these students in a class per se, but last summer I hosted a conversation practice/lunch group at my house on Saturday mornings, and these two guys were among the most faithful attendees. They told me that they had come up on purpose to see me, because they missed me at ESL classes. (I am not teaching this semester because, frankly, the every-Saturday from 9-2 commitment became too much for me since that's just about the only family time we have, with me in school or singing nights, Scott traveling for work, and then naptimes in the afternoons and church on Sunday mornings. So I resigned. But now I'm sort of rethinking it!)

We sat and chatted for an hour or so before I sent them home with a couple jars of homemade strawberry jam; high-context culture means gifts are appropriate, right? Conversation is a bit of a struggle, since they're definitely still English language learners, and I haven't spoken Spanish since the AP test in high school, not to mention that I'm not especially gifted in making small talk anyway. But it turns out they want to invite me to a party (the end of the year ESL party) and had lost my contact info but remembered my house. They also want to know if I like roller coasters (yes) and want to come to Six Flags with them sometime this summer. Arturo brought me a DVD (he's a DJ, and I think it's his demo disc) which has his email address on it, so I wouldn't lose it again. Both guys were just amazingly sweet, and kept telling me how much they appreciated my teaching, etc. Vicente kept reciting English idioms we had worked on last summer - "better late than never" was a favorite, as well as "a penny saved is a penny earned."

I was just incredibly touched. These guys went out of their way (I think they took the bus up here!) to come thank me and offer a way to include me in their lives again. I almost got all teary. And you know what? That hour of conversation was a blessing. And my presentation went just fine.

the warmth of the sun

2011-02-18T23:12:00.003-06:00

The kids and I just got back from a relaxing and warm week in Arizona with my folks. A few highlights:

Swimming (indoors - it wasn't THAT warm) at the rec center, which has a zero-depth kiddie pool with slide as well as one of those rushing-river type winding channels where you kind of float around in an eternal circle? Pretty fun.

Playing with Boppa. Boppa is very creative, and can make even the most mundane things (like this rolling tray, formerly part of a janitor's cart) very exciting. Poor Boppa was pretty sore and exhausted after his mornings on kid-duty, though.

The library! I am really excited to see Miles' reading just take off the last few weeks. He's reading by himself now - Frog and Toad books and the like, and then reading some more advanced books (Nate the Great, All About Motorcycles) with help from Mom on the long words. The love of books is such a huge part of my life and my childhood memories that it brings me great joy to see him embracing reading as well! This stage of life is not QUITE as thrilling as that 18 month-3 year language acquisition stage Eleanor's in the tail end of - learning to talk is terribly gratifying - but for me, it's close.

Hiking to the "lake" (actually a dry creek bed with a few frozen-crunchy puddles left in it, but to my kids, it's a lake. Here we are, throwing rocks in and cheering for ourselves.

For my birthday, Kamma treated me to my first-ever formal English riding lesson. For those of you who don't know, I grew up with horses, and have ridden since I was tiny, but always Western and always just informally, hacking around and (in my teen years) roaming around the central Arizona wilderness. But I've always had that little-girl hankering to ride a really awesome horse through green fields, jumping over hedges or white fences - there are an awful lot of girl-loves-horse books that I was a fan of. Anyway, we didn't really have the green fields, but I did learn to jump a little bit! Yeah, yeah, I know...it's like 8 inches off the ground, this horse could virtually just step over...but it's a start! It really makes me want to get back into the horse community, which is a very time-consuming and expensive place to be. Probably not the right direction for this stage of my life, what with small children and all.

snow day = hair day

2011-02-03T14:54:00.004-06:00

Let's be honest: staying cooped up inside for three days straight is not ideal for most of us. I keep thinking I will get all these projects done...and what do I do? Play with the kids, read books, bake, and play video games. I toss in a chore or two and some homework to help me not feel too sticky and useless, but I think I've had my fill of midweek vacation. And yes, I could write a whole post on my besetting sin of sloth, but...I'm too lazy. Maybe another day.

(For those of you who are wondering how this particular snowy week is any different from the normal life of a stay-at-home-mom in winter...well, humph! It is! This particular mom usually has mornings at the gym, a couple evenings a week in classesl, a few students to teach in the afternoons, and perhaps a morning playdate, not to mention the excitement of grocery shopping and running to the bank. None of that this week! I am SO grateful Scott is home, though - without his wonderful company and conversation I'd really be going stir-crazy.)

Anyway, another thing I tend to put off is spending hours upon hours styling Eleanor's hair. Hence her most frequent styles of Afro-plus-headband, or two-pigtails-with-bows. Not creative, but they get me through the gym and grocery store without anyone openly pitying her for her white-mama-hair. I think.

But today I decided to kill two birds with one stone and try a new style I saw in a book. Not sure what to call it, maybe triangle braids? Here it is:

Eleanor LOVES beads. She did a great job sitting still, too. She and Miles spent a long time just playing with all our beads (which used to be sorted neatly in their compartments...)

Action shot! Nora shows off how her beads go "clicky-clacky" when she shakes her head back and forth - a favorite sport these days.

I've also realized that we need to buy more beads. I'm not done with the back of her hair yet, but we've already hit something like 36 braids, and I don't really have enough beads and snaps (the part that clips on the end of the braid to hold the beads on) to do her whole head in anything "matching". Hence the multicolored look today.

Snow Days

2011-02-02T19:19:00.003-06:00

As you all know, we got some snow in Chicago. Frankly, the "blizzard" just wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected. It snowed for less than 24 hours, and today was mostly sunny and not too cold. Our entire block was out chatting and laboring with their shovels - it was very friendly and small-town-ish, with lots of neighbors stepping in to shovel for those who were either absent, ill, or too lazy to do it themselves. I'm telling myself that this counts as the workout I couldn't make it to the gym for.

I don't think I've ever experienced 20 inches of snow before. As you can see, some of the drifts were up past Miles' waist and Eleanor's chest. I saw a suggestion for building a snow fort: shovel up a five-foot-high mountain of snow, hollow it out, and pour water all over it to help it freeze solid and not collapse. You can also "paint" it with squirt bottles of water and food coloring. I would kind of like to do this...and then the thought of shoveling that much snow into a pile and what, crawling on my knees to dig out the inside?...sounds really unappealing.

This is the view from inside our garage. Which I am, again, truly grateful for. But there's no way we're getting our car out anytime soon; that opening is 8 feet high, so that tells me the drifts are two, maybe three feet. I have no idea how long it'll take for our alley to be passable; it has speed bumps, so I don't think it can be plowed, and there's just nowhere to PUT the snow after you shovel it, you know?

OK, bad-mommy-moment confession: Eleanor does not have snow boots. Miles has the pair I mistakenly bought two years ago, size 10 mismarked as size 7, and which I made him wear at age 2...and age 3...and now age 4. Eleanor has galoshes, which I figured were good enough, with some thick socks. Well, they're not. First, one boot got stuck in a drift and fell off, so her sock got soaked. She didn't want to go inside, so I dumped the snow out of the boot, put the wet sock back on, and the boot on top of it. She was happy. But then her glove came off and she started complaining about her cold hand. When we went inside, I couldn't pull off her OTHER boot. I looked inside, and it was completely packed full of snow. I could not get her foot out; it was jammed and frozen in there. I finally lifted her into the kitchen sink and ran lukewarm tap water into her boot until her foot got loosened up. Yes, I am the urban mom whose children are going to get frostbite, I guess. If you can get frostbite in 15 minutes. Poor girl.

I have to say, spending most of June in Tanzania is sounding SUPER right about now!

Girl Scout Green: not my favorite color

2011-01-26T13:36:00.004-06:00

And yet it is now the color of my sofa. And rug. Oh, and walls. And the chair, two blankets, the end table, and a significant number of Skip-Bo cards. And my beloved laptop got a green coating - very bad.

Yes, all it took was a 10-minute shower, and my two darlings deciding to experiment with tempera paint. Thank goodness it's washable, yes, though I think I have to call an upholstery cleaner for the furniture. At least it wasn't white leather to begin with, right?

They both got a royal spanking (oh yes they did - they KNEW better and had been warned multiple times never ever to touch the paint without Mom or Dad), a not-fun shower, and are having a moratorium on all sweets of any kind (except fruit) for a whole week.

Overly harsh? Maybe. And maybe not. Let's see what that upholstery cleaning bill looks like first.

life tidbits

2011-01-07T15:13:00.002-06:00

Guess what I did two days ago, for the first time ever?

I called in to a radio show! So not like me. Yes, I was a caller on the Dave Ramsey show (for those of you not in the know, he's a Christian talk radio guy who talks about personal finance, getting out of debt, and that sort of thing. Hates credit cards, so I didn't mention ours...) I was on the air for about three minutes, I think...whoopee! I was sort of surprised to actually get through (only had to call twice), and more surprised that the call screener hardly asked me anything.

And for those of you who are wondering, I just asked him about his thoughts on saving for a major goal (namely, our future yearlong round-the-world trip with the future four kids) over a period of many years - how to do that, etc. And his advice was...precisely what I already thought. Scott accuses me of having a habit of that. For instance, going into Best Buy to ask the salespeople about a dishwasher when I've already done loads of research and probably know significantly more about dishwashers than they ever would want to. I guess I like to have my opinions based on online research but confirmed by an actual human. But Scott says I just like to feel smart. He might be right, I suppose. (Which reminds me, our small group is studying the sin of pride this week. Oops.)

Sunday night, Scott and I went to Alinea for our twelfth anniversary dinner date. I had made reservations several months in advance (Alinea is one of the top restaurants in Chicago, and was ranked number one in the nation a couple years ago, I think). It was totally fun! Food was delicious (almost all of it), and interesting, and well-presented. And I just love that "fancy" eating style of lots and lots of tiny courses involving ingredients and techniques I could never manage at home. I guess it's sort of the upscale version of the sampler platter, which we all know I'm addicted to in all forms.

I guess I could post a review on Yelp, but why? Food was yummy; I'd say 80% of the courses I was saying, wow, don't give me anything else, I just want more of THAT one. Atmosphere classy but not stuffy. There were probably more kitchen and waitstaff than diners, I have to say, but that goes with the territory. A couple weird things: the faucet in their bathroom was WAY wobbly - strangely ghetto for such a nice place. (Also, I found it disturbing that someone apparently goes into the bathroom after EVERY diner and empties the trash, replaces the used cloth towel, and refolds the toilet paper into a point. I mean, come on; we KNOW other people are using the place, you don't have to hide it that well!) And at one point the sommelier (or his youthful assistant; the guy couldn't have been older than us) came and poured Scott a second glass of the WRONG wine. He came back about 30 seconds later, took that glass away, and replaced it with the correct one. But it was sort of an odd mishap.

But for the cool finale to the evening, the executive chef, Grant Achatz (might've spelled that wrong) came to our table himself to "do" dessert. They spread out a thin rubber tablecloth over our whole table, and the chef proceeded to dump piles of crumbled yummy stuff, dribbles of melted chocolate and cream and blueberry something and wine something and some funny basil leaves and then the liquid-nitrogen-frozen chocolate mousse. I can't really describe it accurately, but it was super fun and pretty and messy - and of course, yum! It made us feel special! Not sure why we got lucky as opposed to all the other tables who just got their dessert on a plate with no chef, but it might be a) because we were sitting at the biggest table and had lots of room, or b) because I had just complained that the previous course - a sweetened peppermint tea thing - tasted so much like toothpaste that I couldn't even swallow it. You know how you're sort of conditioned, by our age, not to swallow toothpaste? Anyway, that was the only total loser of a "course". But dessert made up for it.

The final tidbit of the day: I am participating in some sort of food/cooking focus group (yes, I am willing to do paid surveys - to prostitute my opinions for money. Hey, opinions I have in plenty, right?) My assignment: to video myself (5-7 minutes) cooking something involving cheese, and then to talk to the camera about what I dislike/could be improved about said cheese.

Ridiculous? Maybe. But the second part of the assignment is to make a "fun collage" (their words). I have no further instructions than that. A collage? Flashbacks to cutting up Mom's Better Homes and Gardens when I was about 8... No idea, perhaps a cheese-themed collage? I feel so...unadult.

But I do like cheese.

(Bob Dole likes cheese!) <--cultural reference some people might be too young for...

a public apology

2011-01-05T17:20:00.002-06:00

To my wonderful husband. Who (I thought) paid $286 for a Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving. I did acknowledge, at the time, that it was the most beautiful tree I had ever seen...but pretty much complained about his tree-shopping skills and lack of frugality for the next, oh, four weeks, to anyone who would listen.

Upon opening Christmas gifts, I realized that a significant chunk of that money actually went toward a gift for me (purchased at the same time/place as said Christmas tree).

Sorry, honey!

(side note: Miles thinks that's Scott's title. He said, "I'm your son. Eleanor's your daughter." And when I asked what Daddy was for me, he said, "He's your hon!")

Christmas finery

2010-12-20T20:46:00.003-06:00

With heartfelt thanks to Kamma, for sewing Miles' spiffy vest and Eleanor's glamorous dress (which is far more gorgeous than the photo shows).

Sometimes Miles just knows he looks good...

A good skirt for twirling!

My kids still haven't learned a pleasant fake smile-for-the-camera.

These last two speak for themselves...taken in immediate succession:

More sayings I need to remember

2010-12-16T13:03:00.002-06:00

Eleanor's plurals: handses, pocketses, appleses, crackerses (I feel like I'm living with Gollum sometimes)

Reading aloud our Advent Book together: Miles racing to be the first one to say "Emmanuel: God With Us!" every time it happens. Eleanor, "Nothing is impasta-ble with God!" Eleanor screaming "NO ROOM!!!" when we get to the page where Mary and Joseph get to Bethlehem and there's no room at the inn. And our unison, enthusiastic "Glory to God in the Highest!" when we're at the angel/shepherds episode.

LOUD renditions of some songs from the kids' Musikgarten class - the grandfather clock song is a favorite, as well as repetitions ad nauseam of the color/greeting song (red, red, red, red, Nora's wearing red today...)

Changing Eleanor's poopy diaper:

Nora: I don't want to sit on my bottom (enunciated very clearly)

me: why not?

Nora: Because it's all poopy.

me: oh. (sniffing and cringing) Oh yucky yucky!

Nora: Don't eat it, Mommy.

me: uh, thank you, Nora.

Miles' response whenever he doesn't want to obey a command: "Well...but I'm just (fill in the blank)." I'm just too sleepy, I'm just thinking about something, I'm just busy already, I'm just too sore for that (must've gotten that from Mommy post-workout), I'm just working on something else, and my personal favorite, I'm just not feeling like obeying right now.

Miles' nonsensical I-love-yous. He comes up, gives me a hug, and says, "Mommy, I love you EVEN when you're wearing snow boots." Or, "Mommy, I love you EVEN when you are cooking dinner." I think this stems from our reassurances to him that we love him even when he's mad...or grouchy...or disobeying...or whatever the current occasion is. But he hasn't quite caught on to the idea, so he reassures me that he loves me even when I'm doing something not at all objectionable. I don't mind.

future blackmail photos...

2010-12-16T12:51:00.002-06:00

Miles may regret this someday. He asked, "Mommy, can I be a ballerina?"

Background: I am trying to persuade Eleanor to actually wear her fluffy skirt I made for her, which she, sadly, detests. So we pretend to be ballerinas together, which entertains her for about two minutes. The downside, of course, is that Miles wants to join in the fun. So today, his request really meant, "Can I wear Eleanor's skirt and you can take pictures of me?"

We also practice our curtseys together, since opera-Mommy is actually pretty darn accomplished at giving a graceful and theatrical curtsey. Eleanor has grasped it pretty well.

Miles, less so. I'm trying to convince him that boys bow. No luck so far.

Thanksgiving morning

2010-11-25T12:56:00.003-06:00

good thing: I ran my Turkey Trot 5k, and Miles ran his "Gobble Gallop". Weather wasn't too bad, I had a good time (at least for the first 2 miles), and managed to run (ie shuffle) all the way. Hooray, and thanks to Laura for being such an encourager!

bad thing: woke up this morning and my lovely induction cooktop is broken, blinking error codes at me. I can't find an appliance repair company who will even answer the phone on Thanksgiving. And my entire family is flying in for a long weekend. So much for all my careful meal planning and grocery shopping! I guess it's the oven for us: turkey with no gravy or mashed potatoes? Or I've heard of dishwasher cooking, maybe we'll try that...

From what I can see on Google, this is probably not going to be a cheap or quick fix. In the meantime, I think we'll be bringing our Coleman camping stove up into the kitchen for necessities...at least, as soon as a store opens where we can buy those little camping size things of propane.

Sigh. But I am thankful. We're in a nice warm house, with plenty of (raw) food, healthy (and energetic) kids, and the likelihood of seeing my wonderful family for the next several days. Thanks, God!

jogging

2010-11-21T14:25:00.004-06:00

Well, I did it. I jogged. Outside. Of my own volition, even. And I'm bragging, at least a tiny bit!

I am "training" for my first 5k, somewhat under duress (or at least under enthusiastic encouragement from my friend Laura the marathoner). Yes, I am doing a Turkey Trot (do they call it that because of what most of us look like when we're jogging?) And training is in quotes because, after all, it is only 3 miles. Not precisely boot-camp strenuous here; any healthy adult ought to be able to do this, right?

And I note, I don't call myself a runner. What I do is not running. It is somewhat between a jog and a shuffle, and slows to a slightly bouncy saunter if a double stroller or a headwind is involved.

So today we had fairly warm weather, and with T-Day looming, I thought I'd try jogging outside to get a taste of what the real thing is like. Up to now I've been managing on the treadmill (one word: BORING!) choosing gym childcare over the double stroller option.

And it wasn't really all that bad! I mapped out my route online, and apparently I went about 2.8 miles in 31 minutes, which is considerably faster than it felt like I was shuffling along. Outdoors with some good music sure beats the gym, though it'll never be as enjoyable as a nice kickboxing class or some Zumba or the like. And aiming for distance or landmarks is WAY better than going by the clock on the treadmill; after all, once I'm to my goal, I have no choice except to run back home, right?

I have realized that I seriously don't have the right gear for jogging outside, though. I was warm enough while I was going, but got home sweat-soaked in my fleece, all-cotton t-shirt, and favorite sweatpants. Nothing wicking here, and I'm freezing now! Time for a nice hot Sunday afternoon bath...

thankfulness

2010-11-13T19:19:00.004-06:00

I asked Miles what we should get Daddy for Christmas, and his response was, "An apple!"

Hmm.

I then said, "well, what else might Daddy want?"

"A nightgown! He needs a nightgown!"

Now, besides the whole gender-bending problem above, I do not own a nightgown either. I sleep in a T-shirt and yoga pants, or some seasonally-appropriate variation. Eleanor does not sleep in nightgowns either; she has one hand-me-down Winnie the Pooh nightshirt which she only wears rarely because it's not at all warm. So I don't know where he got that idea.

When asked what he would like for Christmas, Miles suggests some gum. Or some donut holes.

And yet I'm proud of my son's low aspirations. I'm grateful that greed doesn't seem to have reached into his life yet. I'm proud that, when we go to a store, he has never yet requested that I buy him anything. We look at fun stuff and admire it, but he has not yet reached the age of clamoring for toys or candy. Occasionally I ask if he'd like some x (new socks, or a toy or game) in the future, say, for his birthday. His answer is typically, "No, thanks," or, "Maybe when I'm five," or else "But we already HAVE lots of toys (or whatever)!"

Sometimes he tells me, "When I'm (some age), I will have such and such." But usually it's more like, I will DO such-and-such at that age. (And apparently his concept of ages doesn't extend past 45. Sorry, grandparents; you're off the charts already.) He is going to be a doctor when he's 18 (more specifically, "Mommy, when I'm 18 and you're 45, we can BOTH be doctors and share a room! Or maybe 17..." I was impressed by that math...I'm sure it's a coincidence, but as it happens, I WILL be 45 when he is 17. Go figure.) He will use sharp knives when he's 10. He will stay dry all night when he's 25. He will eat peanut butter when he's 80 (that's been the lone exception to the age-45-max).

Yesterday we were driving along and listing off things we're thankful to God for. These lists get a bit random at times: core items we thank God for include our house, family, nice new garage, tankless water heater, big red car, and our favorite: heat. But the add-ons range from Eleanor's puppy (thanks, Nana!) to street lights to friends to church to sunshine to fans to closet doors to our washer and dryer to Miles' special lamp. Sometimes they really get into it! This time, Miles said, "I'm thankful for our big new house. It's very big, and it has walls and floors and ceilings. It has lots of bedrooms, and we all have a bed and lots of toys. We have everything we need!"

I got a little teary. Yes, we do have everything we need. How blessed we are, how grateful I am...and how good it is to be reminded by my son!

Photos and miscellany

2010-11-11T19:27:00.005-06:00

Eleanor, immediately post-braid removal. Wow. They lasted a couple weeks looking fairly decent, but a well-intentioned babysitter tried to start removing them at bedtime (with a brush, ouch!) one evening, so I decided to finish the job.

The obligatory Halloween photo. Eleanor's princess costume from last year still fits, and she actually deigned to wear the tiara for about 3 minutes. Miles LOVED being a dragon (well, actually, we were uncertain whether he was a dragon or a dinosaur, but he decided to call it a dragon; thanks, Beth!)

Best buddy Joshua ALSO chose to be a dragon! So we had two dragons (looking very scary), and a princess who won't wear her tiara, as well as Joshua's baby brother Wesley (not pictured), who actually kept his robot costume on for a while. It was awfully chilly this year, so the boys definitely were more comfortable than Nora, I think. We went over to a neighbor's house for some cider and snacks, then trick-or-treated briefly up and down the block. (Then we came home and I dumped most of their candy back into our bucket of candy to give away. I'm chalking up that behavior to my desire to be thinner and not to my cheapness, but it might be debatable.)

Eleanor at gymnastics with Daddy. She's really impressively strong for her size. Miles also takes gymnastics, by the way, but parents aren't allowed to observe except for the first and last weeks of class, so that's why I don't have photos of him in class. He tells me that he's impressive, though.

Achievement of the week: Eleanor can do a flip on the bar all by herself! (aka "skin the cat" I think) Anyway, she grabs the bar, pokes her toes up and through her arms, flips over, and lands on her feet. She did this about 20 times in a row, and I was impressed, at least. The only problem lies when she spaces her hands too close together, and then her bum won't fit through, and she gets frustrated, lets go of the bar, and lands on her head. We're thankful for padded gym floors.

Achievement of the week #2: phonics has finally clicked for Miles! Here he is reading aloud to Eleanor (a book he's never read before, thank you very much; he's been "reading" memorized books to her for ages). We bought him some simple readers a month or two ago, and he is now picking them up to read to himself during rest time. I walked in after nap and he had made it through a couple new ones, unbeknownst to me. He is proud to read them aloud to Mommy and Daddy, too.

Lest you be overly impressed, these are the short-vowel-sound books, so aside from a few memory words like "the", they're pretty easy to sound out. We haven't gotten to silent-e or vowel combinations yet.

Oh, and yes, those are unintentionally matching pajamas. Eleanor is wearing Miles' last year PJs - her current favorites - and we bought him the same pair in a larger size because they were HIS favorite (and OK, they were on clearance). So maybe she looks like a boy here; so sue me.

My first attempt at corn rows

2010-10-28T11:40:00.003-05:00

So we're all a little under the weather here, and I decided to take advantage of - well, of not feeling like doing anything else - to try braiding Eleanor's hair for the first time.

It took a total of about an hour in three installments - I did it while she was eating, buckled into her booster seat. Which of course means my own dinner was not very satisfying, but oh well!

I encountered two problems:

1) My own lack of expertise. Basically corn rows are like tiny tiny French braids in straight lines. The basic concept isn't that complicated. But the execution takes significant dexterity as well as a head that isn't wiggling around. So my braids are a bit uneven and nowhere near tight enough. (I'm sure they're not tight enough because Eleanor didn't complain that the braiding hurt; judging from everything I've read the pain is necessary to a good finished product!) But they're cute if you don't look too closely - and I won't post a close-up photo to give you the opportunity...

2) Eleanor's hair is still not very long or thick; less than two inches in some places. So it's hard to hold on to, especially when it's saturated with hair detangler and cream and other slippery moisturizing stuff. And then I finish and have these very tiny, not thick braids.

Anyway, we finished by clipping pink butterfly barrettes onto all the ends. I asked Eleanor how she liked her pretty braids. Her response:

a tumble down the rankings

2010-10-26T22:05:00.002-05:00

So Northeastern Illinois University is hosting a workshop this week on how to paint plaster skulls.

Yes.

Obviously my school is awesome. I'm so grateful my tuition dollars are doing something meaningful.

Leisure and windows

2010-10-06T16:12:00.003-05:00

It's a beautiful day in my neighborhood. And today, that just put me in the mood for window cleaning!

Now, lest you think that I'm some sort of super-homemaker, I will explain.

Actually, those of you who've been to my house don't need an explanation; you already know that I'm one of the worst housekeepers around. Some of you haven't actually said so. To me. Yet. Thank you for that.

I suppose I am June-Cleaver-esque in that I DO own an apron, thanks to my friend Beck, who gave it to me as a "thanks for letting me borrow your lingerie for that photo shoot" gift. Now there's a story for another day. But suffice it to say that I just don't really notice the squalor around me very often unless it's injuring me, like stepping on small, prickly magnetic letters can do in the middle of the night.

Sometimes I do have Proverbs 31 aspirations. Well, except for the getting up early in the morning part. I mean, I do go to market. I do dress at least some of my family in purple (Miles would wear pink and purple all the day long if I let him, but thank God for the Cha family hand-me-downs in nice earthy colors). But then sometimes I figure that I'm more of a lily of the field. I certainly don't spin, and the whole "toiling" thing mostly feels pretty foreign, too.

There are, however, three housekeeping tasks which provide me true satisfaction: cleaning out the refrigerator, cleaning and organizing closets, and cleaning windows. And today was about 75, breezy, and clear - the perfect opportunity!

Window cleaning is soothing. I am a HUGE fan of double-hung windows. Tilt-wash, you make my day! The whole getting up on ladders outside thing isn't a part of my window-washing world.

If the Windex people are listening (what are my chances?), I would like to know what kind of idiot came up with ammonia-free glass cleaner? Yeah...the label explicitly says, "Greenlist ingredients...Same Great Product!" Exclamation point and all. Well, I beg to differ. It smells nice, sure, and perhaps has reduced my Shaquille O'Neal sized carbon footprint a bit (though the roll and a half of paper towels I used just now probably countered that nicely). But why bother using glass cleaner if you're just going to get streaks? I could have used bath soap, or laundry detergent, or furniture polish, or even some of my gallons of almost free Wesson oil if I didn't want to SEE out of the windows when I was done!

/end rant

I was also noticing, as I squeaked and scrubbed my way around the house, how often soothing activities can become...well...boring. For instance, staying home snuggled on the sofa reading a great book: totally soothing. But staying home with a book because you have no friends and no social life and no one invited you anywhere for the thirtieth night this month: boring. Or drinking a cup of tea: soothing. But drinking tea purely because it has no calories and you're desperate: boring. Same with window washing. I did the first floor, and found it relaxing. Soothing. And then I came to the end of my paper towel roll and noticed that I didn't want to go get another one. I guess that task is done for another year.

Complaint of the day

2010-09-28T12:54:00.002-05:00

Eleanor, wailing and distraught: Mommy, I have pants! I have paaaaaannnnttsssss! Pants on MEEEEEE!!!!!

Yeah.

Just a potty-time diversion

2010-09-23T19:26:00.003-05:00

So I walked into the bathroom, and Miles was sitting on the pot with his magna-doodle (thanks, Nana!) He showed me what he had done (with zero help, thank you):

I was impressed. Not only with his numbers, though those are surprisingly good (for an almost-four-year-old boy, at least; he's not exactly Prince of Manual Dexterity). But he also knows my phone number!

preschoolers and language

2010-09-23T13:19:00.005-05:00

Just some rambling thoughts - advice would be welcome.

Scott and I really feel that raising kids to be fluent in two languages is important. Americans seem to be just about the only monolingual nationality out there, and it's a bit embarrassing! And even people with an aptitude for languages, like me, are probably never going to achieve "native-speaker"-like fluency if they don't start study until adulthood, or even junior high.

We've thought about this and talked about it ad nauseam to anyone who will listen. But there remains the question: how on EARTH do two people who are not bilingual (I don't count my formerly passable German as fluency, because it wasn't and it isn't even passable anymore) going to raise kids that are? I'm sorry, but one or two hours a week in a language class, even an immersion class, is not going to turn out fluent speakers. And studying a language (usually Spanish) in school for even an hour a day, and listening to/watching other-language TV programs and CDs will turn out kids who can say some phrases and sing some cute songs, but not kids who can truly converse in that language.

So how do people do it?

I suppose we could hire a nanny or au pair and instruct her to only speak in her native language to our children. (Note: yes, I see the gender bias in my word choice above, and I acknowledge that there are male nannies and au pairs out there. But not many, and for people who are sticklers for using both gender pronouns or a neuter gender alternative, I say, "Get over it!" But I digress...) If my kids were with someone like that for six or eight or ten hours a day, they'd probably get fluent, given a few years. But besides the affordability issue (nannies), and the issue of not wanting a stranger living in my home (as au pairs typically do), there's the whole thing that I want to be the one raising my kids. Me. (And Scott, of course, but I don't know if he wants to be included in this rant.) And this is not to be critical of those who choose to use nannies while both parents go back to work full-time - but that's definitely not what I want for my family, and as most of you know, my own average annual earnings wouldn't cover a nanny anyway. Being with my kids is WAY more important than fluency in a second language.

We could enroll them in a couple hours per week of language classes, and supplement with books, CDs, tapes, etc, and try to learn the language ourselves so we could speak some at home. I still don't think you're going to hit fluency there, though perhaps if the kids continue into high school and college, they'd have a pretty reasonable facility. I don't know if children who "study" a foreign language from the preschool years actually end up speaking any better than someone who picks it up in middle or high school and gets through a few semesters of it in college; my guess would be that it tends to equalize. There are probably some studies out there. Probably funded by some preschool language center, in which case I'd probably ignore them anyway.

We could move to another country. Pretty major decision, but also a sure-fire way to insure our kids learning another language, at least if we stayed there for five years or so. I doubt a year overseas would help much.

And then there are full- and dual-immersion schools. These sound pretty spiffy: send your child to preschool for the morning session, which is entirely taught in the target language (Spanish, Mandarin, German, and Japanese are the languages I've found available so far). They're hearing only that language and no English for four hours a day, five days a week. By about age six, they're almost as fluent as a six-year-old native speaker (and age six is considered pretty much fluent from what I understand from my linguistics classes, though obviously not having an adult's vocabulary yet). And we could still continue with the fun reading and math work we've been doing in the afternoons a bit.

The obvious downside, of course, is the cost; these immersion schools are typically (though not always) private and range from eek-not-cheap to wow-more-than-double-my-current-college-tuition. Other downsides could be the transit time - driving my child to and from the Loop or Oak Park twice a day would get incredibly old. And there's the sacrifice (don't think I'm crazy) of not getting to spend these hours with my children. Yes, often an hour or three without my kids can be a blessing. But giving up ALL of my son's (and next year, my daughter's) morning (aka awake and in a good mood) hours every week? I'm not going to get those hours back. And there's the whole preschool-in-general thing; I won't start a rant, but there's not much my kids can learn, either academically or socially, in a preschool that they can't learn at home or elsewhere. Some days I would consider preschool-as-daycare: give Miles something fun to do while I give Eleanor some of the one-on-one attention Miles got as a toddler and she didn't. We'll see how this year pans out.

So any advice? For those who are bilingual, how did you achieve this? How important is it, really, to speak a second language? Is it worth sacrificing so much, in both time and money; giving up other hobbies, vacations, all the other ways our money could be put to use, to basically re-orient our lives toward language learning? What if, by the time my kids grow up, the language they've learnt has already begun to go out of vogue, and no one bothers to speak it anymore? After all, they'll be native English speakers regardless, and it looks like, at least in much of the world, that's the language they'll need most for business, travel, etc...

A conversation

2010-09-23T13:06:00.002-05:00

It's about 5:30, and I'm in the kitchen working on dinner. After firmly responding "no" to several requests for a snack (yes, following tradition with the "no, you'll spoil your dinner" thing), Miles comes out of the pantry grinning.

Miles: Mommy, guess what I have!

Me: Um...well..it looks like an onion. In a ziploc bag. Did you put that onion in the bag?

Miles, dancing around: Mm-hmm! It's going to be our PRETEND snack!

Me: Oh.

Miles: We're going to have a picnic! Come on, Nora! Oh, it's too snowy, we'll have to go somewhere else....

Eleanor, heading into the pantry: I'll go get a potato.

Is this my life? I feel like I somehow ended up in our friend Zach Lee's world...

Nora's new digs

2010-09-17T12:55:00.003-05:00

Eleanor and Miles got a box in the mail from their beloved "Kamma" (my mom) today, and guess what was inside? Eleanor's beautiful, new, handmade toddler-size duvet cover and sham, complete with appliqued ladybug and lacy ruffle! Thanks, Kamma!

Summer in a jar

2010-08-25T15:04:00.004-05:00

With the help of my lovely neighbor Carol, I produced eight pints of peach jam, six pints of peach-tomato salsa, and nine pints of fruit-tomato marmalade this morning.

It is all delicious. I am exhausted. And, as with so many of my domestic endeavors, I have sadly realized that canning, like sewing, afghan crocheting, and building your own furniture, is not a way to save money. After buying the jars, fruit, and hiring a babysitter, I estimate each of these small jars is worth at least $4, not counting my own labor or the cost of canning equipment (I just used my neighbor's). Oh well - it's awfully yummy. And if I did it on a Saturday (with husband, sans babysitter) and re-used these jars, it might be cost-effective too.

One of my domestic efforts that IS saving money (though not calories) is baking my own bread. I am getting pretty good at it, too - see latest effort below.

This is thanks to my new favorite cookbook, "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day". I'm a low-maintenance kind of girl, and their method (mix your ingredients together and stick the dough in the fridge for a week or so, baking as needed) is right up my alley. The crusty boule is great, I'm a wonder with the challah, and a couple varieties of multigrain peasant bread are pretty spiffy, too (and they parbake and freeze well).

That said, my soft pretzels tasted good, but looked NOTHING like soft pretzels. My whole wheat bread in a loaf pan has scorched every time (I think I need an oven thermometer). And my latest effort at oat bread looked like it had melted. It was crusty and tasty, but only about an inch thick. More like oddly crispy focaccia.

Cute things my kids say and my mom warns me to write down lest I forget

2010-08-24T23:02:00.002-05:00

This post will need some follow-ups as I think of more things, but for starters:

Eleanor: "blana" = banana. And for some reason, she says AP-ricot (with a short-a sound) rather than APE-ricot, like I do. Where did she get that? For that matter, I dislike apricots; where did she get this obsession?

Miles and vocab: "Dreary" as in "Mommy, don't you think this room is kind of dreary?" He had no idea what it meant, though; thought it was like "hot". And of course, "Mommy, it's kind of dim in here. Can I turn the light on?"

Eleanor: "Where's my Miles?" "Mommy, we go get my Miles now?" (On the occasion of Miles' first slumber party - I thought she'd enjoy the personal attention/Mommy time, but she was too distressed that her best friend was not present at bedtime or breakfast.)

Eleanor, crying: "I soccer too! I soccer too! No soccer for Miles!" (When Miles left for soccer class. She doesn't know what soccer is; she DOES, however, know what a SUCKER is (aka lollipop) and apparently was miffed she didn't get one.)

Miles: "Mommy, I think I will have a dream about when I will be a REAL ballerina." (I checked out "Angelina Ballerina" from the library for Eleanor. But just like Fancy Nancy and Olivia, Miles sort of appropriated this one for himself, too.)

In search of the perfect Caprese...

2010-08-24T22:56:00.004-05:00

I love Caprese sandwiches and salads. I mean, I love meat too, but given a choice, I'll take a Caprese sandwich anytime.

Earlier this summer, I actually ventured into backyard gardening in a tiny way: I planted three tomato plants and two basil plants. The tomatoes are taller than Miles now, and the basil isn't far off, which is a bit of a surprise, given my usual black thumb. I had my first tomato harvest this afternoon!

They're not quite all ripe, but since we're leaving on vacation tomorrow, I picked any that were close to yellow, and made myself a Caprese salad with my fresh basil and some leftover mozzarella.

It was pretty good. Not perfect; truly wonderful fresh mozzarella is prohibitively expensive considering the quantities we consume. The cheap stuff is basically melty plastic, so this stuff was a compromise: OK but not as authentic as might be. I also haven't forayed into the $30-an-ounce type of balsamic vinegar. I know people rave about it, but I don't actually dislike the cheap balsamic vinegar I already have on the shelf.

For the sandwiches, homemade bread is going to be key, I can tell; my local "bolillo" roll, while a good-sized vehicle for vegetable and cheese, doesn't add anything flavor-wise.

So I've got the tomatoes, basil, and bread down, and now I'm pondering making my own mozzarella. A couple websites insist that it's not only possible, but easy, if you can find the right kind of milk (and order some gross things like liquid rennet). We'll see how motivated I am; this may be my dabbler personality lurching out in yet another non-productive direction. (Remember the quilting? The half-finished cross-stitch? The scrapbook? Becoming a step aerobics instructor? Becoming a ski instructor? The weed-free but nothing-planted-in-it flowerbed? The various fitness/cleaning/becoming a better overall person regimens? Wait, is that the plural of regimen?)

I mean really - cheese making? Surely my time could be used more wisely, right? I could spend hours nurturing my little ones...working out...scouring my floors...blow-drying my hair...planting, uh, plants...accessorizing my outfits...not to mention working somewhere for a paycheck, which is pretty far down my priority list...

A small-town moment in the big city

2010-08-24T22:43:00.002-05:00

It was just lovely today. And after naps (or attempted naps), the kids and I walked down to the little grocery store on the corner. I just needed some oranges and bread.

As I approach the cashier, though, I notice my purse is lighter than usual. With dread, I rummage around inside...no wallet. Eleanor is a big fan of going through my purse, and the contents often end up in the cracks of the sofa. I have no cash in my pockets. No credit card tucked away. Just a checkbook.

So I ask the cashier if they'd take a check (my total is $3.72). She looks doubtful, then hollers away in Spanish on her store walkie-talkie. (I note: this store is about the size of a 7-Eleven, and so I'm wondering "why the walkie-talkie?" Sure enough, when she gets no response on the device, she just turns and yells over her shoulder. Voila! The manager/owner walks right over.)

After a conversation in very fast Spanish that I couldn't follow, apparently they do not want to take my check. The cashier offers an alternative: she suggests I just take the groceries and I can come back and pay some other day.

I am baffled. Do stores really do that anymore? Jewel sure wouldn't. But the cashier goes on to say that she knows us (she does? I don't know her!) or at least my kids (aha!) or at least Miles, who apparently comes in the store all the time. I suppose that, when I need something last-minute for a meal, I usually send Scott and his faithful henchman down to this store. And in our neighborhood, our particular family demographic is pretty recognizable.

It just made me feel like I was in a small town in the 1940s or something; rather quaint.

The rest of the story: I took my groceries, feeling a bit guilty, and walked home (all of one and a half blocks), got my wallet out of the couch, walked back, and sent Miles in to give the cashier $4, which he promptly dropped all over the floor.

A few recent photos

2010-08-19T21:03:00.013-05:00

I just thought I'd catch up on posting a few recent pics from this summer. Miles and Eleanor got to go bowling for the first time (yay Groupon!) with Joshua Studee. Thankfully, the bowling alley offered both bumpers AND a ramp, so the kids scored better than the adults.

Miles looooooved his pink bowling ball. No one else could use that ball. Oh no.

In case you're wondering what the ramp looked like.

Disgustingly enough, Eleanor kissed her ball. For luck? And how cute is it that bowling shoes come in this size?

It's a seven pound ball. She weighs about 24 lbs. You do the math. And she ALMOST hoisted that thing up on the ramp. Veins bursting and eyes popping, she insisted on trying it herself every time.

The Studees (well, minus Andy)...our frequent partners in crime and commiseration.

Our street's block party is really fun. We have loads of kids on the block, and usually have a parade, a bounce house, a potluck, craft time for kids, etc. A great older couple from across the street brought their old-fashioned hand-crank ice cream maker, and the kids lined up to take turns cranking. Some with a little more help than others.

I feel so lucky that my little boy still wants hugs and kisses! I'm going to enjoy every moment of this as long as it lasts...

A few weeks ago, we headed down to the Millennium Park fountain with my friend Kate and her two sons. Miles and Isaac had a BLAST! Both are kind of rough-and-tumble kids, and they're a good match for each other.

Eleanor's itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini. The bottoms won't stay up without some serious clippage, which is why she has random barrettes stuck to her waistline (hey, it was all I had!)

Miles takes good care of his little sister. Here they are, holding hands and jumping together - a popular sport, whether in the fountain or in our kitchen.

Random photo...guess who this beautiful baby is? I made a baby outfit for my friend Amie's baby shower, and had to try it on someone, and Wesley Studee was just all over himself volunteering...

And Eleanor has learned to love trying on new clothes. And posing for photos. So far all her poses are the same, though.

And again...

My favorite photo of the season: what a dapper son I have!

A humorous moment with a stranger

2010-08-19T21:00:00.003-05:00

Driving along Lawrence Ave., my attention was arrested by a rather short woman in her late fifties with...how shall I say it...ENORMOUS, perfectly spherical bosoms sticking straight out in front of her, and a low-cut tank top highlighting them as well as her midriff.

I admit, I stared for a few seconds. Long enough to see the woman in the car to the right of me do a double take and some staring also. And then she (the woman in the car next to me) looked over at me, and we both started giggling. And drove off.

it's a different generation

2010-07-12T10:49:00.002-05:00

This morning, Eleanor asked if she could Skype Kamma.

OK, she's barely two. And she knows the term "skype"?

I can already feel myself slipping behind the technology curve. Actually, I started slipping a long time ago. I don't tweet, I hardly blog, and my Facebook logins are semiannual events. I don't even like text messaging (probably because I have to pay something like twenty cents for each text message I receive...so texters, if you're reading this, let your thumbs take a rest and actually CALL me instead, OK? I'll like you better.)

an urban adventure

2010-07-12T10:44:00.003-05:00

This past Saturday, we were driving home from the Breakthrough men's shelter where we cook breakfast once a month. And it's not in the best part of town, anyone would admit.

Driving north on Homan avenue, we heard a spatter of LOUD gunshots, obviously less than a block away.

Then an SUV who had just turned off Homan into a side street comes squealing out in reverse, looking panicked.

Then a youngish guy comes racing out of there on foot at top speed, also looking panicked.

I have no idea whether the SUV or the young guy were involved in this shooting; I am guessing they, like us, were just passers-by in the wrong place and in a hurry to get back out. But it was my first time actually being an almost-witness to a shooting. A little adrenaline rush. In case you're curious, we decided not to stop and check things out. Maybe not very good-Samaritan-like, but we had the kids in the back seat, after all.

Backyard camping!

2010-07-02T20:55:00.007-05:00

With an unforeseen night off from rehearsal for me and glorious weather, we decided to have our first family backyard camping trip of the summer. What spontaneity! Scott and Miles have done it the last two summers, but this will be Eleanor's first time joining in. (Side note: Mommy helps with dinner and campfire activities, but opts to sleep in her own bed; that part is strictly Daddy territory.)

Miles and Eleanor helped Daddy set up our small dome tent. Then Eleanor explored the camping crate, discovering her new favorite cup:

while Miles helped Daddy clean out the firepit, dusty from a year's storage in the basement.

Daddy built a fine fire:

We roasted some bratwurst and lounged around on the grass while we ate. Well, Scott and I lounged; Miles bounced and Eleanor ran around with her grubby sausage in her hand.

Then, of course, it was time for s'mores. This year Miles and Eleanor both enjoyed the gooey toasted marshmallows, though Eleanor wouldn't eat her s'more (the rest of us helped her out).

Miles is currently woefully afraid of flies (ask me about the meltdown this afternoon when he couldn't go potty because there was a FLY on the floor, which turned out to be a clump of Eleanor's hair) and Eleanor passionately hates being dirty or sticky (marshmallows were sort of a disaster there), so real life camping may not be in the cards for us yet. But luckily, a bathroom and clean PJs were only ten yards away. We got the kids geared up for bed, and now they're snuggled up outside with Daddy, reading some stories.

I am virtually certain I will sleep soundly tonight. I can't answer for the rest of the family...

Age two is hitting hard

2010-05-21T16:45:00.002-05:00

Well, the kids' praise music CDs are still favorites. Now Eleanor is starting to join in - not tunefully, no, but loudly. Her song of choice is "Prince of Peace" (aka the echo song where the women get to sing the really cool part with all the names of God and the men's part is kind of boring)

But it has a little two-year-old twist:

I sing: You are holy
Eleanor: you are holy

Me: You are mighty
Eleanor: you are mighty

Me: You are worthy
Eleanor: wordy...

Me: Worthy of praise
Eleanor:

Me: I will follow
Eleanor: NO FOLLOW!

Me: I will listen
Eleanor: NO LISTEN!

Me: I will love you
Eleanor: I love you

Me: All of my days
Eleanor:

There's just something about a pink plaid fedora

2010-05-13T09:53:00.006-05:00

I'm a sucker for hats. I like them on myself, though I'm not a flashy enough dresser to feel confident in pulling off a nice artsy hat look. That takes a very special personality.

But I can force my kids to wear them!

We went shopping yesterday, and came home with, among other "necessities," a few accessories for the kids. In addition to Nora's Blues Brothers look above, Miles got a cap (note: I just thought it was a cute shape. Didn't realize it was a "skater" cap or what the "SK8" insignia meant).

He also got a brown and white seersucker dressy cap, not pictured. Eleanor wouldn't hold still to model her pink baseball cap or her plaid baseball cap, and refused to even entertain the idea of wearing her floppy blue polka-dot sun hat (possibly my favorite). So much for fashion-show photos; I guess the attention span deficit defeated me.

Punctuality is next to godliness...

2010-05-12T19:47:00.002-05:00

...or so says my son.

We recently bought him a CD of praise songs, sung by and for kids. It's his current favorite, and it's kind of fun to hear renditions of "Beautiful One" and "Prince of Peace" floating around the house. He likes the echo songs the best, because he gets to be the leader.

This evening at dinner Miles treated us to a (loud) version of his new favorite:

"Lord I lift your name on time"

Heh. Apparently I'm rubbing off on him. Anyway, it gave me the giggles.

the potty comes out of storage

2010-03-25T08:42:00.003-05:00

it's a bit early, but Eleanor seemed vaguely interested, so I unearthed our potty. I have nowhere to go today, so I cranked the heat up, stripped Eleanor down, and let her have at it. She can't quite seem to grasp spatially how to sit down on it - the "turn around and back up toward it" thing is throwing her.

She did pee in it (a tiny tiny bit), and got a chocolate chip for her troubles. Miles, of course, also needed a chocolate chip. He's sitting there right now reading to her. She keeps getting up and sitting back down on the potty.

Anyway, I'm not expecting potty training to "take" quite yet - it better not, because I have about eight bargain packages of size 4 diapers to go through first!

please don't put beans up your nose...

2010-03-09T22:28:00.002-06:00

...or chicken nuggets. Or asparagus.

We avoided the beans, but Eleanor managed to stick bits of each of the others up her nose at dinner tonight. We pulled them back out. Well, we thought we did.

Until she sneezed, and an inch-and-a-half long piece of partially chewed asparagus shot out of her right nostril.

After falling out of our chairs in disgust and hilarity, I went to fetch the tweezers, and managed to pull a small piece of what I think was chicken out of the other nostril.

I wonder if a 22-month-old can associate the discomfort of having things yanked OUT of her nose with the concept that perhaps she shouldn't put things IN there? Or is that just expecting too much?

Mommy, come see...

2010-03-05T11:12:00.002-06:00

...I made God!

a little winter sunshine

2010-03-05T10:10:00.012-06:00

So the kids and I are out visiting my parents in Arizona. We're not too depressed to be missing March in Chicago, and the kids are having a blast doing the simplest things...

Miles on the way to the airport: "Look, we're riding in a taxi, Mommy!" Now it's not like we're constant world travelers, but we do fly relatively often with the kids...somehow it's still a thrill each time. For them, that is.

Kamma (Grandma) had a surprise for Miles: roller skates! He's not exactly "zipping" all over the place, but he is doing WAY better than I'd expect from a three-year-old, and having fun. We may take a trip down to Phoenix for a first roller-rink experience tomorrow; we'll see...

Eleanor wanted to try out the skates, too. For a 22-month-old who's only been walking for about 3 months, I was impressed - her physical therapist, Miss Corinne, would be proud!

Another surprise: a couple of Kamma's young music students brought their violins over for a rehearsal, and Miles and Nora got to "play" them. Miles decided to be shy, but I think he enjoyed it anyway.

Eleanor finds a rock! OK, my parents have a gravel driveway, like most rural Arizona folks, and they also live near a creek with no shortage of stones. But somehow, both my kids find the presence of a rock absolutely boggling - last visit, Miles collected a whole bucketful!

Scooter-ing in the sunshine...

Eleanor explores the puppet theatre during the local library's story hour - Miles was engrossed by Dr. Seuss, she was...less so.

Boppa (Grandpa) has the morning off today, so he and the kids are playing with their balloon helicopter (hard to explain), building giant forts out of fruit boxes (Dad works at a grocery store), and baking brownies, while I get a chance to post some photos. More later!

ooh, I feel villainous

2010-02-23T22:45:00.004-06:00

For those of you who don't know already, I'm back in school, hoping to start on a second master's degree in linguistics (a field I've been fascinated by for years, albeit from a distance). I'm currently just taking two classes: a graduate intro-level "Fundamentals of Linguistics" class, and "Sociolinguistics," aka "Language and Culture," which is a bit like anthropology but specifically as it relates to languages and speech use.

Anyway, one of my classmates just told me she sees me as the "future arch-nemesis" of our sociolinguistics professor.

What does that even mean? This friend appears to like me, so I don't think it's that I'm scary or mean. (Well, I might BE both those things, but I don't think that's what she was saying here, anyway.) And it's not that the professor reviles me or anything; she manages to appear to like everyone in the class (more kudos to her!)

I think it has to do with the difference between the two classes; as far as I can tell so far (and take this with a grain of salt, as I'm a newbie!) sociolinguistics is a bit softer and fuzzier, more about people and how they relate and communicate, far more qualitative than quantitative, etc. Traditional linguistics seems to be very analytical, logical...for lack of a better word, "math-y." It involves deriving grammatical rules from the language use you observe; setting up taxonomies and hierarchies, structures and syntax, that sort of thing. I am far more analytical than creative, and hence seem to be fairly good at it (which is tremendously egotistical to say, considering I've been studying this for all of eight weeks or so now, but bear with me...)

I think my friend's comment means that she sees me as good at traditional/theoretical linguistics (not sure if that's really a technical term, but "Chomskyan" may not mean much to anyone outside the field), and that type of linguistics appears to have quite a rivalry with socio, so she's anticipating me developing into a rival for any sociolinguistics advocate, my professor included.

Anyway, I'm sort of flattered; being an arch-nemesis sounds kind of cool, and I've certainly never been described that way to my face before. But I'm trying not to be slightly hurt, too, because I happen to LIKE socio, and to find it really interesting. I would like to be good at it, too, and not just relegated to "oh, that girl who's just weirdly good at math." Is she saying that I'm not good at socio, or that my comments in class are somehow lacking in content or quality? Or I'm just bad with people, and would do better in fields that don't involve them?

For what it's worth, this whole post would probably not have been worth writing if I wasn't thinking about the linguistic value of my friend's comment to me. What does it mean? Just pondering...

Why would I want to teach my kids to tell time?

2010-02-23T19:11:00.004-06:00

It's been one of those afternoons. You know, when it's only 5:30, and it's becoming a struggle not to simply plop your kids in front of the TV so you could get a little peace? One of those.

I can't really complain, because they DID both take good naps, and I got some teaching and some paperwork in during that time. But for some reason, the post-nap hours degenerate quickly into whining on some days, usually having to do with dinnertime, but sometimes I wonder if my own lack of patience just exacerbates the problem.

So we start dinner a little early, and since Evil Mommy only allows them 35 minutes to eat their simple bowls of red beans and rice, neither child manages to finish in the allotted time. Too bad, no dessert tonight. We head upstairs, don pajamas, and I decide to move bedtime forward a little. And I am struck with gratitude that my kids don't know how to read an analog clock yet.

Why is that a skill we want to teach early? Yes, Miles can read a digital clock, though I think his grasp of time is pretty vague when it comes to real life. But we don't have a single clock upstairs aside from my phone (safely in my pocket) and my watch (analog, HA!)

I put Eleanor down a few minutes before her bedtime, at around 6:50. Then Miles wants to play Old Maid (actually, his first choice was Guitar Hero, but I couldn't summon the energy tonight; him "playing" guitar means I have to do the real playing and just let him pretend to play along on the second guitar; he can't hit enough notes to keep it from failing in the first few seconds, and he gets bored with that really quickly).

Well, and I get bored with Old Maid really quickly myself, particularly the two-player variety. The game, anyway; Miles playing it is fairly entertaining. He ALWAYS will choose my left-most card when he draws - every single time, tonight. And then when he draws the Old Maid (hysterical giggling) I tell him to mix it up in his hand "so I don't know where it is!" He then waves his cards back and forth (not rearranging them in the least, but wiggling his legs frantically in the process; I've no idea why they're related but apparently they are). Often the Old Maid will end up facing backward (that is, facing ME) while all his other cards are in the proper position. That reminds me of a scene in...some movie...hmm, bad memory...but I choose the Old Maid card anyway, and am rewarded by sheer glee and giggles. It's payment enough.

Miles' hair is getting kind of long now - long enough to start clumping in little circular ringlets again. So tonight I told him I wanted to comb it out, since we haven't done that in ages. He protested that it would hurt too much (his baby sister's bad influence; on HER hair it probably does hurt), but I told him I'd be gentle, and he'd look very handsome with his hair fluffed up.

So I work on his hair for a while (it's not long enough to tangle yet, so it's pretty simple to do), before hearing a gentle murmur, "Oh, it doesn't hurt..."

I finish and tell him to look at himself.

A pause to reflect and assess, and then, "Mommy, can you do the front a little bit? And over there?"

The vanity of him! Mommy complies.

He preens in the mirror for a moment. "There! Now I'm all poofy!"

Another idea I thought was a good one at the time...

2010-02-16T13:18:00.005-06:00

I love Crayola Color Wonder markers. It's really great to have an art medium that cannot possibly damage anything ELSE in my house. So this morning, upon getting home from the gym (and feeling pretty smug that I made it to the gym at all, I admit), I plopped the kids down with our Color Wonder markers and papers and dashed in to take a quick shower.

Normally, I can take one of two types of showers: the kind with a closed door and someone pounding on the door or wailing, or the kind with an open door, and someone pulling back the shower curtain on both sides, trying to climb in the tub, and turning the faucet to ice-cold whenever my back is turned. Neither is the type of blissful experience that cleansing myself used to be.

I figured, I'd be quick, and they couldn't do any damage with the markers, right? And it was a peaceful experience, with lots of hot water pounding down on me....mmmmmmm.

I emerged to find these

and this

I forgot that Eleanor will eat anything when it isn't mealtime. Out of fourteen markers, we had four survivors; the rest got decapitated. So much for Color Wonder.

I wonder if I could get Crayola to sponsor my blog? I could use some replacement markers...

obsession of the day: violin!

2010-02-12T13:17:00.003-06:00

So I'm praying that maybe the obsession with drums is tapering off, because it's awfully loud and is ruining my furniture. Hooray for "Elmo's Musical Adventures: Peter and the Wolf," because Miles is going around today singing the "Peter" theme and telling me which instrument goes with which character. He, of course, wants to be Elmo (who plays Peter and also the violin) but is now scared of horns (which play the wolf).

Anyway, today Miles dug out two of my wooden spoons and said, "this is my violin!" He's walking around holding one up to his chin and scraping the other across it like a bow. We dug out "Music of the Heart" and I let him watch the ending concert sequence, with all the kids playing their violins; he stood and "played" along for the whole thing.

Hey, something's sinking in!

2010-02-07T18:18:00.002-06:00

Tonight, when I asked Miles to please go upstairs and try to find his pajamas top, he said he couldn't (he didn't try). Then he said, "If I ask Jesus, he will help me." He clarified, "Jesus is going to help me find my PJs top." We said a little prayer, and sure enough, Jesus helped him find his PJs top (in the pajamas drawer right where it was supposed to be, thank goodness).

Rehashing the PJ-finding event afterward, Miles reiterated that this morning at church, "We had a good worship, didn't we Mama? I like to sing to Jesus." (Not that he ever actually sings at worship, but rather just stares at the drummer and drums along.) And then he said "Yeah, he's a good Jesus, isn't he?"

Yeah, he is a good Jesus.

OOOOOHHH I am so MAD

2010-01-28T11:12:00.004-06:00

So I was just on the phone with my mom, who mentioned that the house seemed rather quiet. Indeed, it did. I bragged that my kids had been playing quietly together for the last hour in their favorite spot - the kitchen corner cabinet (it's an empty cabinet right now, waiting for the kitchen remodel to continue).

I had even managed to get some of my homework reading done, and was feeling rather smug.

Until I entered the kitchen.

Now, I had carefully put away Miles' art easel and all the tempera paints and paintbrushes sitting on it. I also warned him that he was not to get it out, because Eleanor was too little.

Well, I suppose he did obey literally. But he managed to find the closed bottles of tempera paint and the clean brushes, not to mention the watercolors. And as we all know, we need water to use watercolors, and he managed that too. In case you can't tell, the floor is semi-flooded.

After my initial (less than affirming) reaction, I dragged them both bodily into the bathroom and told them to strip for a shower.

All this time, my comments are being cheerfully punctuated by little consolations:
"Oh, it's OK, Mommy!" (no, it's NOT!)
"Well, I sure won't do it again this time!" (True, because you won't be allowed into the kitchen again)
"That's a lot of paint on my clothes, huh, Mommy?" (no comment)
"Eleanor wasn't supposed to paint. She DID paint, Mommy. THAT's not OK, is it?" (Aarrrggghhh!)

I should have known better...

2010-01-27T22:27:00.002-06:00

So last night I broke one of our cardinal rules or parenting...and boy did I pay!

The rule: never, ever, EVER enter a room where Eleanor is sleeping. Ever.

But last night, Scott was out of town, and something woke me up out of a lovely sleep at 4 am. I listened for a minute, and heard nothing. Lay back down, and heard a moan. Sat up, listened again, heard a whimper a couple minutes later.

Now, I know that if I open the door, Eleanor will wake up. I also know from long and sad experience that, if she's crying, going in to comfort her will never ever help. Never has. Not once, not multiple times. It just prolongs the misery; we've even timed the episodes.

But Scott wasn't home, and I thought, well, she doesn't usually cry out in her sleep (or not enough to wake me up anyway) - what if something's wrong? What if she's cold (we keep the house around 55 at night)? What if her leg is stuck in the crib? So finally, in the interest of at least occasionally feeling like a good mom, I got out of bed, pulled on some pants, and staggered into the kids' room, only to discover two totally flat-out asleep children.

Well, they were asleep.

Eleanor's head instantly pops up, eyes open, and she gives me that confused hedgehog-in-the-headlights look. I cover her up with the blanket again, stuff her puppy in her arms, shush her briefly, and back out of the room.

No luck. Instant screaming, choking sobs, and meltdown in all possible ways. "Mommmmeeeeeee!" I kick myself, and listen for a few minutes, hoping against hope that it's a fluke and really, she'll fall right back to sleep.

Right.

Then I hear an irritated little voice saying, "Eleanor, stop crying! Go back to sleep NOW! Please stop!" My son, who (as usual) is a blanket-wrapped eggroll of misery when woken, is intervening.

This didn't help. So I stumble back in, and do the hush/pat/rub back thing for a while until she's calm, and then firmly say, "Good night, Nora. Go to sleep now," on my way out the door for the second time.

Meltdown #2.

Anyway, to make a long story somewhat shorter, she DID fall back to sleep. I didn't go back in again, but nonetheless missed out on a significant chunk of my early morning sleep.

Which is my perhaps not excellent excuse why we didn't go to the gym this morning. That, and I wanted to go to Jewel to spend my six coupons (yay! free crackers!)

A brief respite from the terrible threes

2010-01-20T21:54:00.004-06:00

So Miles is three. And what other moms have warned me about - that three can often be worse (aka more "challenging") than two - has certainly proved true thus far. Eleanor, in contrast, seems to be over her clinginess and separation anxiety, and has turned into Miss Easy-to-be-around, temporarily at least. I figure she's got around a hundred, maybe two hundred word vocabulary and is starting to string words together, so simply being able to communicate what she wants has helped her moods, I think.

But today was really pretty lovely for both. Getting up was rocky for Miles - he has a really hard time in the mornings if he doesn't wake up on his own, and when you don't wake up on your own until 8:00, unfortunately Mom has to do it for you sometimes. So he basically ends up a crying puddle of misery on the floor or his bed, whining that he "JUST wants to go back to sleep, please leave me alone, Mommy! Go close the door, please! I don't WANT to wake up, I don't NEED to go potty..."

Unlike some mornings, though, he snapped out of it pretty quickly today. We had a breakfast where he actually ate, then we made it to the gym in time for class, and got rave reviews from the childcare attendant, who asked me, "Do they always get along this well? They don't fight? He's just so sweet to her, bringing her toys and giving her kisses and encouraging her."

Well, it's nice to hear. I also (a few months ago) was told by Eleanor's physical therapist that Miles is one of "the best behaved three-year-old boys she's seen." Ha HA! She obviously hasn't had to eat lunch with him or had him yell "NO!" in her face three billion times a day.

But I digress. Today, as I said, was pretty lovely. Miles painted on his easel and then listened to his headphones while I had to be with Eleanor in her PT session, and then we had a lunch where he actually ate again (leftover macaroni, thanks Mabel) and some sweet brother-sister play until naptime. He SLEPT during nap (about a 50/50 chance of that happening lately), and then woke up in a sweet mood and helped me make pizza dough and set the table for dinner. Bathtime went pretty smoothly, ditto bedtime. I just wish I knew what I could do to increase the odds of THIS day happening instead of, oh, a day like Monday, for example.

Mwanamke anahamanika

2010-01-19T21:06:00.000-06:00

Did I really think I could learn Swahili? Who are we kidding here?

I am recalling reading, somewhere, that (at least for English speakers) our brains process words based on their starting letter. I read a sample excerpt where, in every word on the page, the letters had been scrambled, which looked like code to me. But in another sample, they scrambled the words but left the initial letter of each word as the correct letter, and oddly, I could read it just fine - my brain I guess could interpret the words as long as they started right!

So I'm wondering if that's my Swahili problem. Because unlike all the European languages I've studied, in this one the word BEGINNINGS change with person, tense, gender, case, etc. Ack! So each time I encounter a given word, it looks completely foreign, and then I look it up in my handy online dictionary (kudos to the Kamusi project, btw) and discover for the nth time that, oh yes, I did learn that word actually, but this time it starts with ny- or an extra m- or a j- for no reason I can figure out yet.

I'm sure this will all become clear someday. Whether I'll have given up by then, though, I couldn't tell you.

little gourmets (or is it gourmands?)

2010-01-05T19:35:00.003-06:00

Today, Scott is out of town on business, and as it happened, I had scheduled us all to go get our H1N1 shots (yes, I know, but better late than never). So then I have to agonize: better to prepare Miles for it ahead of time and endure the whining, or to spring it on him last minute ("oh, on the way to the grocery store, let's stop in this office and see if the doctor has something for us!") Anyway, I chose the former, and was amazed that, after promises of a post-shot treat, specified by him to be strawberry ice cream in a cone, I didn't hear any complaints. He even sounded excited when he told the plumber we were going to the doctor. Well, until the shot itself, but those tears blew over pretty quickly. I hope my kids grow out of the squirming before they grow too strong for me to pin their arms down, though.

As often happens when there's no second adult to feed, I opted for one of my simple, not-really-cooking dinner solutions. Tonight it was wheat pasta for the kids, with mussels in a tomato garlic white wine sauce for me (sounds fancy but in reality was a frozen kit from Aldi). I happen to love mussels. In the interest of enticing my picky and contrary children to try something new, I said I didn't want to share my mussels, and they were all for me, but that Miles and Eleanor could each try ONE, I supposed.

Big mistake. Eleanor masticated hers for a while, then spit it out. Pre-chewed food always looks pretty horrendous, but a mussel starts out looking horrendous in the first place. Let's just say it didn't inspire me to finish it off, regardless of my love of the little creatures. Miles, on the other hand, after opening the shell and slurping one, decided he loved them. He ate about twelve (really, I think the shells were the fun part), and then insisted on me sharing the remaining "mussel juice" with him. This was supposed to be my special treat - low-calorie protein that feels like a decadence. And here a three-year-old consumed the lion's share. This is a child who won't eat steak, or fried chicken, or Cheerios, or even peanut butter.

I had to forgive him, though, when - as I was washing dishes - he says to me, "Mommy, when I grow up I want to be JUST like you." I said, "Oh, thank you honey!" He continues, "Yeah, because you're so much like the Lord."

OK, so I know that's merely a direct quote from Kids' Praise Three (aka Psalty 3), which he received for Christmas from my mom, and he has no idea what that really means, but...it was awfully sweet to hear. Someday I pray he'll be able to say it and mean it (and that I could deserve it).

well, we can give it a try...

2010-01-05T19:15:00.003-06:00

Seriously, I'm wondering why the girl who's never successfully kept a journal in her life would try blogging. Ostensibly, to share my everyday life with those who might care, right? Also, like my mom keeps nagging me to do, to put down the cute events and sayings of my kids before they're lost in the ether of my long-term memory (which isn't terrific, as compared to my short-term memory, which helped me slaughter many a multiple-choice exam). But if this blog doesn't blossom, don't say I didn't warn you. Whoever "you" may be (Mom?) Hey, I got a B in "Freshman Experience" - the easiest A out there - because I couldn't keep a journal!

Really, though, who would want to read this? There are tons of mommy-blogs out there, many of them written far more cleverly and wittily than I can aspire to do. Actually, I wonder if we're the most overpopulated category of blog? Because, among mothers, we fall into one of several categories: a)we think everything about our kids must be fascinating, and we know the world must be waiting with bated breath (I've seen that spelled "baited" sometimes, and it just sounds so unappealing...like your breath is reminiscent of night crawlers, or hot dogs, or the like), b)conversation with the toddler and preschooler set does occasionally pall (yes, I admitted it!) and we wonder whether our formerly articulate selves still exist, c)we spend so many hours away from our children that writing about the time we DO have together makes it feel more special or lasting or something, or d) we are inspired by our more clever and articulate mommy-friends (whose blogs we follow and envy) to try to do the same, because surely our own adorable children must be as interesting as theirs, right? For myself, I think I'm mostly in category b, with a healthy dose of category d.