daddytude

Crazy Bean, v.3

2012-01-25T15:54:00.001-06:00

After a month with Delilah, it is clear that she fits right in with our family. She has the same amount of crazy bean as Maria and David.

Watch her show off her boundless energy!! Her amazing ability to climb unstable structures! Her willingness to tackle something 100 times her size!

Here are two sillies together:

Yes, she is balancing on the top of a chair.

Here, she climbed inside this fun ball and then rolled herself around like a hamster. (She also tries to fit her whole body inside DT's slippers for some reason. And chew on the plastic collar stays that come in his dress shirts.)

She found this hiding spot after we brought some paper towels home.

And then used it as a base from which to leap out at David! (She is always aiming for our faces. Not usually with her claws out, thankfully.)

She loves, loves, loves exploring the dishwasher. One time I didn't realize she was in there and couldn't figure out why the door wouldn't shut...

I haven't been able to get photos of her walking like a trapeze artist along the curved edge of our clawfoot tub, watching intently as the children take a bath, but she does it every time. One time she fell right in with Maria. (That was nowhere near as traumatic for her as when she leapt into the toilet, where David had just peed. We had to give her a bath after that one too. No photos available.)

She also loves to be RIGHT NEXT TO ME. She sits on my shoulder while I'm at the computer, rides along in my sweatshirt hood, and frequently sleeps on my pillow with me at night. As if that's not enough, she jumps up to sit on the toilet seat with me everytime I am on the potty... (again, no photo. thank goodness).

To be fair, it's not just her level of spastic energy that fits right in. It's also the characteristic that earned her this comment from the vet: "she's very food motivated." Yes, that means she loves to eat. She was so happy eating her treats at the vets office that she didn't notice her first shot!

Austin Vacay Gettaway (part 1)

2012-01-13T08:14:00.000-06:00

Earlier this year, we did Boston. Now, cross Austin off the list. And I already have our next destination: Fosston, in Northwestern Minnesota. (There is also apparently a Mosston, Slawston, and Chawston, but they are all in England and we have no immediate plans to go overseas.)

We ended up packing in about three vacations into our 5 October* days in Austin. We visited my sister, who's in school at Texas, my dad and step mom up from the EP, some old college friends of mine, two re-located Minnesotans, and my best friend since I was Maria's age, Ryan. (Far from his first blog appearance - for that, check out this post from 6 years ago. You have to scroll past the Clint Eastwood and James Bond movie posters, and past the pregger poses to get to the superhero Ryan shout-out, and subsequent comment.)

* Yeah. I know it's January. These have been drafts for a while, but got bumped by all the holiday posts. I still have a draft from part 2 of our summer vacation to Canada in 2010 yet to post, so by comparison, January is pretty good.

In addition to visiting all these people, my other sister (the Pod Tales one) and I also figured out a way to get our girls some time together, too. My mom agreed to fly to Oakland, pick up Chiara, bring her back to El Paso, pass her off on my dad and step mom, who brought her with them to Austin, where the girls we literally inseparable. It was by far their best visit, yet. They spent the entire time, and I mean the entire time, giggling and talking and coloring and giggling, mostly they would say made-up words to each other and then laugh hysterically, or make up a little chant and then laugh hysterically, or just laugh hysterically for no reason at all.

Lift-off.

Our four left Minnesota early on Wednesday morning for a DIRECT flight (can you believe it?? a direct flight somewhere I actually want to go!) to Austin. Since there wasn't enough time before we left the house to eat, we had one of our patented Airport Picnics.

We went PJs through the airport to try to eek out an additional 15 minutes of sleep that morning. MT wanted to wear hers too, but we didn't know what the security might do.

You know what you can do with your bag fees?

We decided that we could make it work without the added expense of renting a car. Our Hotel was less than a mile away from all of our intended stops: Zilker Park, the Children's Museum, the Bob Bolluck History Museum, Campus, my friend's house, etc. So, no car seats, no rental car. Just a bus schedule, or schedules, and the number for the taxi company and the Hotel shuttle. Looking back, it was cheaper - no baggage fees for the car seats (each way, two seats, $25 per = ouch!), no rental car fee, no parking charges, etc.

The only problem with that was that although the Hotel was centrally located, right on both north-south and east-west thouroughfares, taking the bus meant waiting at the bus stop...inches away from non-stop traffic. We needed some of those kid leashes. Or some different kids. Without leashes and with our kids, waiting for the bus became a life-threatening experience. Fortunately, both MT and I have excellent lateral footwork, spending our waiting time sliding side to side, backs to the street, eyes on kids, with hands out ready to grab at anything that might feel the sudden urge to dart off the sidewalk. "Stay on the balls of your feet! Don't look at me, look forward!"

We also didn't realize that the cabs in Austin have a 4-person max rule. I don't mean NYC taxi. I mean all taxis - sedan taxi, minivan taxi, vibe taxi, SUV taxi. The taxis with third row seats all had the one row of seats taken out, too. And it doesn't matter if 3 members of your party are under 6, each one is a full person. So there were a few times when we had to either argue our way into 5 people in the cab, or take 2 cabs. So there's your family travel tip of the week: going to Austin? Make sure you don't take all of your children in your family of 5 or more. You'll have to leave one behind. Maybe in the kennel with Scrappy.

The Accomodations.

We booked a room at the Embassy Suites, on Congress right at the bat bridge. One of the reasons that we went Embassy Suites was the free happy hour. Not really. [Head nodding yes, yes really.] We went Embassy Suites because of the Suites part of the deal. MT and I had had enough of hiding in the bathroom hallway, in the dark, after the kids went to sleep. No more MT whispering cribbage talk to me: "That's not Two For His Heels... No, not Nobs, either." (How come I never get those in my hands?) In this place, you put the kids to bed, close the door, and then have a whole separate room to hang out in!

We also picked it because the web site showed that it had a very nice indoor pool (indoor means something to do when it rains, other than ziplocking the family like in Boston.) We (not surprisingly) spent a great deal of time in the pool, almost part of every day. Half of it was only 3 feet deep, the perfect depth for our nearly 4-foot tall, non-swimmer of a 5 year old. It looks a bit larger in the picture than it was in real life, but a beautiful pool nonetheless:

Maria only drowned once. David had gotten out of the pool, and was exploring the towel shelves when he pooped in his swim diaper. I called MT down from the room to give me a hand, and we were busy tending to the poop, while Maria spider-girled herself around the edge of the pool. She did one of those, "Look Ma's" just before her hands slipped off the edge of the middle waterfall part, into the deep end. MT screamed, I dove in, watched underwater as my girl sank like a cement block, thrashing wildly, until I grabbed her and pushed her to the surface where she grabbed onto the wall. In total, she was under water for probably 2 seconds, but she comprehended the whole thing. "Dad," she said in complete seriousness, after she caught her breath, "you saved my life!" Yes. Yes, I did. And now your parents know what a heart attack feels like.

The Business of Having Fun.

I had scheduled out the whole week. Wednesday after naps/settling in was for exploring the hotel and swimming, before grabbing my sister Jackie for a dinner out with our displaced Minnesota friends. What did we do with the kids, you ask? Well, this was one of the best parts: Jackie hooked us up with a babysitter! My only instructions werre, no serial killers, please. She convinced a friend from her Starbucks to baby sit for us on Wednesday and Saturday nights.* Thursday morning was booked for the Bullock museum, with the afternoon reserved for meeting Chiara, Jackie, my dad and stepmom, walking through campus, pausing at the natural history musuem there on our way to the drag where I could re-up on longhorn gear. Friday morning was for paddle boat rental on town lake, botanical gardens, and the dino stuff at the nature center. Friday afternoon - swimming in the pool and then off to my friend's house for dinner, grandparents to put the three kids to bed while the adults (me, MT and Jackie) took in some Austin nightlife. Saturday morning was for Zilker playground, Umlauf sculpture garden, and the train ride around the park. I left Saturday afternoon flexible, nothing planned, because I am so spontaneous. Saturday night was for grown-up family dinner at Fonda San Miguel (note: don't forget to make reservations...). Ah, a nice, relaxing few days, right? Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans...

*Another travel tip! Maybe I could even market the idea. Embassy Suites should have a list of like 5-10 back-ground checked childhood ed students/grads for their vacationing parents to use.

The Year in Quotes: Funny Things Kids Say (and their Parents, too)

2012-01-02T19:00:00.000-06:00

Out With the Old.
Looking back, 2011 was a great year. There were milestones and mountain tops, three big family trips (El Paso, Boston/Martha's Vineyard, and Austin (no link yet, but forthcoming for sure!), many moments of professional affirmation and validation for me and MT, and relatively few major mishaps or struggles. All of our parents are in great health (one with a new hip and one with a new knee), and all 5 of MT's grandparents are doing well, too. In all, we have nothing to complain about. (And yet, somehow, I still find things, like, "Do I have to see that same mini-Ditka beer commercial AGAIN?") Plus, we have a new family member who is able to lighten up any situation. Here is a too-cute-to-be-true moment from Christmas morning, and you can expect to see more videos/photos of our feisty feline ninja:

Milestone Recap.
This year Maria learned to read! David learned to use the potty! Maria grew three inches! David can help cook without dumping everything on the floor! (Some still makes it to the floor, but just not everything anymore.) Maria started school. David is in a real bed.* Our house has new steps (with wrought-iron railing), a new living room rug, a new shelving system in the mudroom, two new radiator covers, and an expensive looks-old-but-is-really-new shelf in the living room to store toys, what else. Now we just have to finish paying for all of those things. (New year's resolution #1: Get us to the BLACK!)

* We now have a trove of discarded baby stuff, like a changing table in the basement, and a dismantled crib in the "sleeping porch," which is mostly storage space for things that I don't want to put in the musty basement, like mattresses and our box of wedding memorabilia (anyone want an extra invite?). All of that baby stuff is just sitting there, in limbo, wondering if it will get used again. Waiting there, dutifully, patiently optimistic. I imagine all that stuff getting excited every time we open the door to hide a present in there or get out the ironing board. Well, it's not looking good for the baby stuff. How can we possibly upset our new-found equilibrium? Besides, didn't we just get a cat? Even so, I can't completely shake the worry that we will some day regret only having two. Then I am reminded of the fact that I also can't shake the worry that a third kid would kill us, perhaps literally.

Who Said That?
So, as part of the New Year's retrospective, I have compiled a list of "quotables" from our house. These are actual quotes of things that MT or I or the kids have said in the last year. I am already compiling my list for 2012.

"Just focus on the poop." I say this probably 3 times a week. And no, not to myself... Out loud.

David: "I pooped my pants when I chasse-chened."

David: "But I want the smell-good marker. That's NOT the smell-good marker."

All of these "when I grow-ups" are Maria:

"When I grow up, I want to be a restaurant server...at SNUFFY'S!"

"When I grow up, I want to be a scientist."

"When I grow up, I don't want to be a scuba diver anymore."

"When I grow up, I want to move to Sri Lanka."

David: "I. want. alco-HOLLLLL!"

DT: "Stop smelling that Sharpie."

David: "I didn't push Mr. Nils. I said I SHOVED him."

MT: "I don't think your vagina needs lotion, Honey."

David: "I'm done with pants."

Maria: "If you don't want anyone to boss you around, don't marry anyone."

Maria: "I had the greatest poop at school today! It was shaped like a pillow!"

"David, are you excited pajama day tomorrow?" "No." "You don't want pajama day tomorrow?" "No. I. Want. It. NOW!"

"Can you say 'David Kramer Bryan?'" "No. In a second, I'm checking my phone."

"I want to make sure that you are not bleeding on the couch -- keep your mouth closed."

Maria: "Vaginas are lovely."

David: "I want some flamingo! More MINGO!" (Yes, like the Cow Bell skit. But he was talking about mango.)

David: "I 'cared of babies! I 'cared of babies." David, upon seeing his identical twin cousins drooling, grunting, and staring intently at him as they crawled closer and closer and CLOSER. BTW, Happy Birthday, Boys! (Roughly one year ago, but truthfully, probably spoken at the tail end of 2010.)

DT: "And no 'But Daddy's.'"

“Noah doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Every time I talk to him he just says ‘Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!’ and covers up his face, or sometimes he doesn’t listen to me and says ‘blah blah blah.’” Maria, on her first unrequited crush.

DT: "I guess that wasn't supposed to go in the dishwasher."

DT: "It is not OK to put food up your nose. If I see that again, it's a time out."

"You make me happeeee, when skies are great." David, singing his old favorite song.

DT: "No, you can't take a weight to bed with you--and no 'But Daddy's!'"

"And you are SURE that you smelled poop?"

"Your nap is over, David." "No, it's not. It's UNDER."

"Stop! Your butt's going to touch the toilet water."

DT: "David! Don't run with scissors!" (So cliche!! But also, so necessary!)

DT: "If you lick the wall, it's a double time out."

MT: "Please try to keep your hands away from your butt."

MT: "I totally mangled this f-ing turkey."

DT: "OK, you're kind of spitting in my face there."

DT: "Enough! Enough! Enough poop talk. I know you know words other than 'poop.'"

DT: "You need to wipe off your face and wash your hands. . . . Not with your own spit, though."

Maria: "Daaaad - quit working on the computer and just focus on the popcorn!"

Maria: "And when both kids want to play with the same toy - that's why God makes babies go to bed earlier."

DT: "We've been over this! Don't draw with your spit!"

DT: "Fine, but next time we play identify the mystery stain - you get to smell."

David: "I want the recycling truck!" MT: "Well, maybe you should send Santa a letter." David, after a pause: "I'm going to send Santa the letter 'd'."

Taking stock of the last year, I realize that MT and I are starting to pull ourselves out in front of the chaos a bit. Our kids are easier to parent and we have transitioned from the constant chasing after toddlers into a family where one parent can actually step away to cook or clean or work or play soccer or go get a massage, and do so almost guilt-free. Just having that extra 20 minutes to read the paper or the ESPN magazine makes all the difference. 2011 was the year that we got that back.

Our days are wonderfully full. In fact, they over-flow, running over with David's laughter, Maria's imagination, Delilah's sneak attacks (those kitteh claws are freakin' sharp!), and our love for each other. We are surely dwelling in the goodness of God. Every night we just say "good night," but we mean "good life." It is a very happy new year in our house. New Years Eve was the 13th time MT and I have clinked glasses and kissed in the new year. Here's to lucky number 13!

Show Time

2011-12-24T06:47:00.000-06:00

I remember growing up my brother and I would go to my sister's dance classes at UTEP or the Ballet Centre. UTEP was much more fun for us because the classes were on the same floor as the big wooden instrument lockers. Jason and I would spend the class time chasing each other around the floor and climbing in and out of the biggest ones, for a Bass? Tuba? Motor scooter? My sister had a lot of classes, eventually dancing her way out of El Paso in middle school, like the kid in Billy Elliot. She was accepted into an apprenticeship program with San Francisco Ballet Company, and moved there at like 14. For the next 20 years she danced, for Pacific Northwest, in New York, on tour, Belgium, Italy (5 years, I think), Iceland (what the hell, right?), and back to San Francisco.

She would frequently make it home for Nutcracker, which apart from maybe half a dozen other shows, was the only performance we watched. Never saw anything she did in Europe, and I remember trying to find her on stage during Romeo and Juliet when she was in high school in Seattle. There was a Peter and the Wolf show, I think, and I got to see her dance once with her (at the time) future husband, Matt, when I was in law school. The show reminded me of the one in Almodovar's Talk to Her (I could only find the trailer, not the actual dancing scene). I also enjoyed watching Viva El Paso, but my sister always acted like Viva was like watching Streep in an Adam Sandler movie. Around this time of year, my brother and I had a lot of Nutcracker exposure, dress rehearsals, matinees, backstage, one show with each side of the family. We loved it. My sister was in damn near every scene, stacking costumes on top of one another like my mom's layered enchiladas. There was even one year when she saved Nutcracker. That year, my sister decided to finally take a break from the Nutcracker madness and see what Christmas felt like for normal people, so she was in town from Italy, or maybe Iceland, for only a couple of weeks. We were sitting around one night when she got a frantic phone call. The main dancer in the show pulled a diva, quit, and walked out. My sister jumped in the car, no rehearsals, no practice, nothing. The way I rememebr it, she arrived in time for the snow flakes dance, and breezed through all of Act 2, minus Russian and Arabian, saving the ballet.

MT also danced as a kid, through high school, and in college. Never seriously like my sister, but more for the love of the game, relishing her hip hop routines, and forcing her rib cage to do unnatural things. She would have likely taken it more seriously had SYTYCD been on TV 25 years ago. Someday, she will teach our children to Vogue. That will either totally enhance their social standing or destroy whatever standing they may have had to start with. There's a fine line there.

I guess it's no surprise then, that every Saturday we go to dance class (both kids). We started it when Maria was 2 because it one of the most convenient parent-child "movement" classes around. The classes are at a nearby rec center/library combo. As Maria got older, there were many Saturdays where all four of us would go, and David would run around the gym or the park outside with one of us, while the other one would run errands, or run around the indoor "track" (I think 28 laps is a mile), or hit the library. When he was old enough, we enrolled him too. For the toddlers, parents stick around and get goofy with the kids. Ms. Amy asks all in turn, "Where are you going to go?" when she dims the lights. The trippier, the better for Ms. Amy. "Uh, I am going to go outside?" Blank stare from Amy. "To become a balloon that some kid let go of?" Whew. Each session is roughly 8 weeks long, and for the older kids, no parents are allowed. At the start of his last session, Ms. Amy asked us to move David to the bigger kid class. My reservations about whether he would listen and follow instructions were outweighed by the idea of another 45 minutes for me or MT. Back-to-back, that would make Saturday morning a breeze. Wake-up, breakfast, dance, lunch, nap. And before you know it it's 3:30.

So, David now gets dropped off like his big sister and his parents have no idea what happens behind the closed door, at least until the "recital," which is really just the last class, with parents being allowed to watch. Classes start with circle time, each dancer running around the circle doing whatever move they want (usually running), group time (usually musical statues (you should definitely click this link - musical statues around 6:39)), and then what I think of as drills (dancers in a line against the wall, while one at a time they go accross the room doing some pattern of 2 or 3 dance words, releve, bourre, jete, chasse-chene, etc., but many dancers just run), and finish with solos. If there's extra time, Ms. Amy will get out the slinky for the kids to leap over, or the gymnastic mats for the leads to crawl through or leap over or huddle inside.

Last week was our first double recital week. Ms. Amy picked a special song for David's solo, and Maria picked her own music (Sugar Plum Fairy, obv.) David did a lot of skipping (which is a new trick, maybe 2 months old?), but still hit the beat, and every so often, he breaks out some nice Footloose freestyle. Or maybe he is just chenging directions or getting mixed up with his skipping. I'm going with Footloose. As for Maria, you can see that she has a definite idea of what she thinks she looks like when she is dancing. Check out the swivel at the end of her solo - like one of these old hand drills:

But first, here is Skippy's solo, outlawed in Bomont, Utah:

Not to be outdone, Maria has some skipping of her own in the group time, but hers is so sassy! Also, check out her "I'm getting sucked backward" move, again, reflecting that she has a definite idea of what she thinks she looks like.

And, of course, the Sugar Plum, herself (the swivel is around the 2 minute mark):

I like that Maria's coming up with her own moves and trying things, and am proud that her ideas usually fit the music, but I also wish that there was some direction for the kids. Is it too much to ask for some kind of choreography or maybe something planned out? I think we might be close to having to find some more "real" ballet classes, as opposed to Ms. Amy's free for all. The worst that happens is Maria doesn't like it and we can always go back to Ms. Amy, right? (Note, if she hates soccer, that's just too bad, she still has to play.)

Last week was also show time at church. Like his sister before him, David was a sheep. And, unlike previous years, Maria had a line! She nails it. Confident, important, serious, just like the real angels shouting down to those shepherds. David's entry is right at the beginning, and Maria's line is around the 3:55 mark. Nothing much happens after the 4 minute mark, so unless you want to see our church friend's neck hair, you can stop after 4 mins...

And last, I got some updated photos of the kitteh, and the Delilah resemblance is pretty spot on. I get to pick her up tonight, and then she's all ours. Please oh please don't tear up my massage chair. I mean MT's chair. It was her present when preggers with Maria, afterall.

She'll Be Home for Christmas

2011-12-19T08:09:00.000-06:00

MT has been out of town all week at a trial. She left last Saturday. We've only talked for 20 minutes or so each night to catch up and check in. Any longer and the conversation starts to interfere with the tight trial schedule of work until you drop, followed by futile attempts at getting a few hours of sleep. But trial is also a thrill, the best part of being a lawyer, I think. From the snippets that I got during the week, it sounded like MT was happy with how the case was going in. Actually, she sounded almost too happy. Shouldn't she feel at least a little sad?

Here at home, I think the week went by really well. Now that the kids are older, things are easier, but it still is rough flying solo. David would get so excited every afternoon pulling into the garage when he saw MT's car--"Mom's here, Daddy!" And every afternoon I would tell him, "No, mom's car is here, Mommy is still at trial." He would also point to every airplane (and star) and say "Look, I see Mom!" No, kid, I don't think that's Maryland up there that you see. So he definitely missed his mom. Even his day care teacher mentioned that he was sad on Thursday and Friday, although I chalked it up to lack of sleep (and don't tell MT, but perhaps poor diet, too).

We only made it to school on time once this week, on Friday. The other days were completely rushed and hectic, and I got all yelly. "How many times do I have to say put your jacket on??" Not a day went by that we didn't have some kind of hiccup either. Like on Monday, when David went to school in his snow boots, and I forgot to pack shoes (or his preferred footwear, his cowboy boots) to wear inside during the day. Or on Tuesday, Maria went to school in her back-up glasses because neither one of us could find her main pair. Somehow, although I looked on that shelf at least three times and saw nothing, the glasses materialized there that evening, sitting quietly, in plain view. Or when I forgot her library book and she wasn't able to check one out from the library. (That one makes a kindergartner mad!)

Since the fridge was pretty bare, MT hit Trader Joes just before she left on Saturday, buying a few easy dinners, frozen pizza, frozen lasagna, frozen orange chicken, frozen sides like garlic fries, and some beef for tacos. Oh, and a giant stalk of Brussels sprouts. Saturday dinner was taken care of courtesy of Maria's friend's birthday party (pizza and ice cream). Despite all of those easy options, I ended up starting the meal too late on Sunday, realizing that the frozen lasagna would take too long to cook only after it had been in the oven for about 30 minutes. We have to remember that our oven is consistently slow relative to the recipe cooking time. I quickly switched to back-up mode: tacos and fries. I had also already washed and prepped the Brussels sprouts, so I threw them in the oven, too. In all, I made three dinners and the kids ended up eating just tortillas, cheese, and sprouts, before I relented and let them switch to cereal (they ate two bowls each). There is still lasagna and taco leftovers in the fridge.

We all made it, though, even if the kids had pizza on Saturday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, corn dogs and tater tots on Thursday and Mac and Cheese on Friday. Saturday and Wednesday pizza were not entirely all on me - both came at parties. Wednesday night, Discovery Club (the after school care program at her school) hosted an extended hours event that even David was invited to. He was so excited and said, "I'm a gardener, too!" (As in kindergartner.) Well, at least for one night. Enjoy the potato chips and pizza.

The most challenging part was that this turned out to be lice week in David's room. First of all, why are lice still alive in the winter?? And more importantly, if your kid has lice on Monday, are you REALLY going to try to bring your kid back to school on Tuesday? Apparently one parent thought that was a good idea. Lice week necessarily coincides with laundry week, and I ended up washing everything, from jackets/hats/mittens, to pillow cases to towels and stuffed "aminals." David had no signs of lice, but that didn't stop me from spraying him (and me) with the treatment stuff before leaving for school and before walking into the house at night. He also had three baths in four days each with the special lice shampoo. I did another 4 loads of laundry 48 hours later to bring the 6-day total to ten! That's a new record by about 6 loads! So far, my paranoia has paid off, and I'm confident that David escaped this round unscathed. That is if you don't count the new fear of hair bugs that he has. (Maria, too - she came into my room in the middle of the night saying that she had a bad dream: "dozens of bugs were on my pillow!")

So a huge sigh of relief when I got to pick up MT from the airport on Saturday. She was appropriately grateful, but also made sure to let me know that she pulled out a ton of ear wax from David's ear, chopped off some neanderthal toenails from both kids, and spent much of Monday cleaning the house. I confess, ear wax and toe nails escaped my attention. Thank goodness for moms.

Maria also saw me one morning blogging on my new I-Pad2 and asked to email her mom. So, while I got ready for work, she took about a thousand silly pictures of herself in a matter of 5 minutes. Then I helped her pick one of her and David to attach to her email, which said: "deer mom i hav bin watinng for you bcuz i love you deer mom this is maria b' and i im 5 yeerz old" - just in case MT came down with sudden amnesia.

In addition to MT getting home for Christmas, we also got word that our big present this year will be ready to come home on Christmas eve. We are so excited and know that the kids are going to lose it when they see her:

She is yet to be named, but I imagine the front runner will be "Delilah," after the bushy, long gray-haired, dog-spell-casting title character in one of Maria's books. My plan is to split up and drive home separately from MT after a family party on Christmas Eve. Then turn this photo into a little puzzle that we'll make the kids put together. While they are busy doing that, one of us will go get the real thing from our room, and either let her loose, or just hold her in our lap until the kids notice. Like I said, get ready for huge Christmas morning FREAK OUT! I hope you're ready, Kitteh! (I hope we are, too...)

All I Want For Christmas Is...

2011-11-30T07:47:00.001-06:00

Maria woke up this morning and announced "I can't find my loose tooth!" We found it hiding among her sheets. Next thing I know, she is using DT's iTouch to write the Tooth Fairy an email. You can see part of it above: I. Hav. Finle. Lost. My. Tooth. Tonit. Pls. Get. It.

Now, two years and three months after the other front tooth was lost, the gap is complete. She has lost the four front bottom teeth and the top two front teeth.

Last night she also wrote a very long letter to Santa. See if you can decipher it!

Carrot Fairies and Food Queries

2011-11-27T16:35:00.000-06:00

The day that DT and I got married, my godmother called me frantically on my cell phone while I was driving to my hair appointment. "Can I see you before the wedding?" I squeezed her in. She met me in the basement of the church where I was getting ready with my bridesmaids. She said she felt guilty about being somewhat absent and wanted to take this moment to impart some words of wisdom (she is a mother of six and has been married over 40 years). She pulled me aside in a linen closet. Nine years later, the only piece of advice that I remember her giving is "Please don't feed your children processed food."

Now, I didn't know what processed food was in 2002 and I really still don't. I get that it's not the zucchini we grow in our garden, and it probably is Spaghetti Os from a can, but there seems to be a lot of gray area in between.

My godmother was not the last person to make food-related edicts to me in my new role as wife and mother, however. There are all the studies, summarized to me over the radio and internet, saying "have dinner as a family or else your children will join gangs!" And one of my favorite authors, Barbara Kingsolver, told me proudly (via the written page, and in too much detail, really) about the entire year she lived just off what her family grew and killed. There is smiling Michelle Obama with her anti-obesity campaign, harvesting kale from the White House garden. And there is the not-so-gentle prodding from my beloved New York Times every Sunday about the ethical, environmental, and gastronomical benefits of local food, organic food, slow food, "real" food.

It stresses me out.

I am a very busy woman! I have a career. My husband has a career. Neither of us are exactly naturals in the kitchen (there are about four things I can cook without a recipe). The four of us arrive at home between 5:45 and 6 pm, famished and frenzied. There is never enough time to cook something from scratch. But, I also recognize that meals are important. They are the energy we give our bodies, the way we impart good eating habits to our children, they are the most consistent time we spend together every day, and they form memories like few other things.

So every week I try and balance my desire to make healthy, homemade meals (that are not just out of a jar or frozen bag), with our limited time for grocery shopping and cooking. Sometimes it means I am making meatloaf at 6 am. Sometimes it means I work from 8 pm to midnight so that I can be home for dinner and bedtime. And othertimes it means a box of Annie's macaroni and cheese (is that processed?? wait, I don't want to know) with frozen peas (at least we are serving vegetables!).

On the weekend, cooking can be more fun. Here, David helps with pudding.

As part of my ongoing effort to heed my better food angels and establish more of a connection between us and our meals, we planted a garden again this year. (We also joined a CSA.) Over Memorial Day, DT and Maria (with help from Chiara) built the beds and planted seeds:

We grew the pumpkins that DT showed in the last post, a few zucchini, a few green cucumbers (way too many tennis-ball-shaped yellow cucumbers from lack of water), and some skinny sunflowers. But mostly, we got carrots. This was our second year planting carrots, but our first success. (Thanks to the chickenwire that kept out all the neighborhood Peter Cottontails.)

We have been pulling carrots and eating them just about every weekend for months. In early November I realized that we better harvest the rest before the ground freezes. So Maria and I pulled, and pulled, and pulled carrots (and then washed, and washed, and washed them). These two photos are taken the same day, and still do not convey the massive carrot bounty.

What would we DO with all these carrots?? We kept many, but we also gave many away. We made six different plastic bags full of carrots and delivered them to our neighbors, like carrot fairies.

All this garden work makes me think of hippies. Didn't this phase go around once already, in the 60s and 70s? The phase of eating healthy things made from scratch? And then, as a country, we ditched it. Why? Probably because more and more women went to work and had less time for pulling, washing, and cooking carrots. Well, more and more women are still working, so how will we all incorporate this renewed desire to live a little closer to the land? (Even if this generation of husbands and dads are cooking, they still have the same job-related time constraints.)

Every time I hear or read a special about the obesity epidemic in America, I think to myself: it's partly due to the labor market! People are working long, long hours (either at one job, or many), and they don't have time to make nutritious and economical meals. They also don't have time or energy to exercise. Address that aspect of the problem! But no one calls to interview me about it. :)

-------------------

p.s. Since we have a four-day weekend and all, I thought I could spend some time cooking today (after I initially published this post). I bought a 3 lb breast of turkey, a stuffing mix from my favorite little cafe, rolls, and patty-pan squash. I spent over two hours chopping celery and onions (has anyone seen the cuisinart blade?), mixing stuffing, and babying that turkey breast.

The kids ended up eating cereal for dinner.

The squash I bought was rotten when I opened the bag; the turkey took twice as long to cook as the guy at the meat counter promised. At six o'clock, when everyone wanted to eat, all I had to offer were cold bread rolls and stuffing. And the whole family thought the stuffing was disgusting. We have a whole sink full of dirty dishes, and no good food to show for it. UGH.

Halloween 2011 Photo Fun

2011-11-21T20:12:00.000-06:00

For the last few years, we have planted our own pumpkins. That entails tilling up yard space and wrapping the planting bed with chickenwire to keep out the animals. This year, we planted only two pumpkin plants, but they still took over most of the vegetabl garden. We successfully pumped out four nice sized pumpkins and carved three of them (one became a squirrel feast post picking). I don't think David really had a clue last year, so this was sort of his first jack-o-lantern experience. He loved the whole process. Carving, scooping, roasting the seeds, making a big mess. He was also happy to pose with our harvest:

The final product was the brainchild of Maria,who helped me draw and carve the ghost and goblin pumpkins. We used a little jig-saw-like tool to get pretty detailed.

Maria then carved the third one all on her own and refused any help. She stuck with this project all day, then carried her pumpkin to the porch next to the birthday present that MT had the kids buy for her, (the light green bow was Maria and David's modification).

Now for the real festivities. Maria tought David to say a variation on the classic kids' trick or treat lierick, so he can now recite the following: "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear." Sometimes, he goes for the short version: Trick or treat, I'll pull down your underwear," and sometimes he throws in a different, worse? threat: "or I'll pull down MY underwear."

David wore his construction worker costume. (As you know, he wore it with jeans, and without a skirt, after much cajoling.) The lollipop came from our basket of candy and was one for the road that David snagged before leaving to go trick or treating. When she saw this picture on snapfish, my sister was surprised that they would allow smoking at the work site. Maybe he was a construction worker from 1965. Or from Wisconsin.

Maria decided very early on that she wanted to be Charlotte, from Charlotte's web. We tried (unsuccessfully) for the last month and a half to make David go as Wilbur. After he said yes at first, he realized that going as a pig was not anywhere near as fun as dressing up as a digger driver. "I don't want to be Wilbuh. You be Wilbuh. I want to be a 'Struction Worker." Here she is, as Charlotte in the costume that my mom created (complete with the boots that my Mom sent her-they light up and have become her preferred daily footwear).

Since no Charlotte could possibly be complete without an award-winning pig, Rajah was Wilbuh. Too bad the doggie pig costume that I found online was really more of a hamster pig costume. Insistent, I stuffed poor Rajah's face into the costume and we had our Wilbur.

After the initial neighborhood runthrough, we met up with Dorothy and Toto. Actually there were two Totos. Dorothy had one in a basket (of course) and her little brother was the second. He was Toto, dressed as a giant green dragon, natch.

Another great Halloween. Well, I guess I wouldn't call cleaning up the pumpkin puddle (bio-fuel?) that was left in our porch 2 weeks after Halloween "great," but other than that, it was great.

October Surprise(s) (Updated with pics from Campaign 2000!)

2011-11-12T16:27:00.000-06:00

October in Minnesota can be cold. Yes way. So cold that I came up with a family rule. Since MT's birthday is in October and mine's in April, I decided that if it snows before her birthday, and after mine, for three straight years, then we have to move. I think Albuquerque would be nice. Scenic, full of character, near enough to El Paso, a short SWA flight away from the Bay Area, a place even MT's parents might be persuaded to move to some day. By my official count, we have had back-to-back years with snow after my birthday and before MT's. That official record, however, had been under dispute, depending on whether the Albuquerque Rule began in October 2009 or April 2010. Kind of like how people would string together Detroit's final four games from last season to bolster their play-off predictions ("The Lions have won 10 in a row, including the preseason and going back to last year.")

Well, this October turned out to be absolutely beautiful, and the dispute over the official record matters not now. It was almost like having three Augusts instead of a September and October (but, unfortunately not three State Fairs), and August is my favorite Minnesota month. I don't know what it means that I couldn't be completely happy about the extended warm weather. In part, like all other Minnesotans, I was thinking, "Yeah, it's great now, but we're going to have to for pay this nice weather in February." In part, I was also rooting for another early snow, even just a flurry, to trigger my Albuquerque contingency. Well, now we're in mid-November, and still no snow. In fact, today was forecasted to be a high of 66 degrees, 5 shy of the record, and a whopping 30 above average! I guess Albuquerque is going to have to wait, at least until 2014.

October also came with some surprises, and I don't just mean Perry's drunk speech* or Herman Cain's sexual harassment scandal that just keeps on going, like Harry & David's fruit of the month. October also brought about my son's obsession with wearing a skirt and my daughter's behavioral issue. Thankfully both issues have been resolved. Skirts are for girls, so that takes care of that issue. No, seriously, I am just trying to roll with it. Today for example, at Isaak's birthday party, both he and David donned skirts and started a whole "dance show," one that (of course) ended up starring their sisters, Maria and Audrey. We'll be sure to link to pictures as soon as they are posted on Audrey's personal documentarian's (her grandpa) snapfish.

(Update: Pic of the boys in skirts):

I think letting him play basketball in the skirt actually made it better for me. As for the second issue recap, Maria continues to answer the call, trying to change her behavior.

*The SNL spoof was pretty good. "I'm so bad at talking, Seth." And that was before "Oops." The presidential campaign season is always fun, and I remember in 2000 when MT and I went up to New Hampshire to see some candidates. Too bad we were only able to get up during Iowa weekend and of all the candidates, just McCain was there. That didn't stop MT from sticking it to him on his position of privatizing Social Security.

She's all: "Look, I'm young, and even I know the market's risky, just wait until the bubble bursts in '08 and NO ONE will be talking privatization anymore...Trust me, I am always right."

He's all, "Who invited that chick, dammit? Sounds like a freakin' Gore plant."

MT at the NH Museum on presidential campaings. Yeah, we were totally cool. OK, except for the apparently impressive collection of Cosby sweaters that MT owned. (At least this one's not as bad as the one she broke out for the campaign event!)

As Phill Gramm (see background campaign sign in MT's pic!) once said: "This beard was Vinatieri before Vinatieri was cool."

I also remember this trip because it was a personal record (at the time) for cold outside: -4 degrees. A record that stood until my first Minnesota winter 2 years later. -4? That's perfect pond hockey weather! Hmm...Albuquerque anyone?

And one random salsa dancing picture. Nothing more hot than a denim button-up, baby! Look, MT can't get enough of my zany on-stage persona! Good to know we haven't aged a bit. Also good to know that the denim button-up never made it out of New Haven. Thanks, MT!

In another October development, while we have known for a long time that Maria was ready to read, the light bulb didn't go off until this last month, during the same time period as the sticker chart. It may have likely happened anyway, but the timing is interesting, nonetheless. I am proud to report that our daughter can read. The trick wasn't so much sitting in front of a chalkboard or flip chart sounding out letters, as much as it was wrapped up with writing. All of a sudden (cue the big music from Space Odyssey), she went crazy writing on her pictures. Here is the first clue that we got. She came home and had written this on the back of a Halloween decoration (really a Dia de los Muertos decoration, but who's counting?):

Those are some of my favorite letters, too!

Then a couple of days later, we got this:

Her first comic book! In addition to the text (her first written sentence), I like that she made Doctor Two Brains laughing, and in a different color than the narration. Plus, the renditions of Word Girl, Captain Huggy Face, and Two Brains are pretty spot on.

Then the dam broke. We had this one:

And then we discovered (because the only paper we had for the sticker chart was photograph paper) that washable markers on glossy photo-paper makes these bright, vivid colors. Maria has started a "factory" where she sits down, and cranks out picture after picture, along with "stories" for the ones she likes the best. She has displayed her products on her bedroom wall. Deciphering them is like one of those newspaper word games. I promise, they all make perfect sense.

See (you can click on the pic to make it more hyuomuingis, a word that not only shows that she thinks she can spell anything, it also shows that she is getting conditioned to look for -ing words):

We are spending the late afternoon and evening of this most beautiful November day at a wedding! And who doesn't love November weddings. (Ahem) Here's MT getting ready (her eyes didn't look so drunk in person) and Maria at her picture factory, and then showing off her "fancy" curled hair. Here's to love!

Wardrobe Malfunction?

2011-11-09T08:37:00.002-06:00

David is very particular about what he wears. Anyone who sees him every day could predict his outfits with stunning accuracy. Is it Wednesday? David is in pajamas (with a 50/50 shot that they are construction pajamas). Is it a Saturday or Sunday? David probably has his pajamas on again. Either that or no pants at all.* There was a time last fall when all he would wear was football jerseys. And now, despite it being November, he makes us wrestle him into pants. He wants to wear nylon basketball shorts. Don't even think about suggesting he wear jeans. He flat out refuses.

*But, the tush will be covered with underwear featuring Super Why, Buzz Lightyear, or Cars characters. That's right, David is potty trained!

He became particular about a new item of clothing last Sunday. David and I were hanging out at home, doing nothing in particular, when the doorball rang. Exciting! Who could it be? It was David's (fairy) godmother, bringing over some dress-up clothes that her daughters had outgrown: two princess dresses and three chiffon dance skirts. As soon as she left, David wanted to try the new loot. In particular, he wanted to wear one of the dance skirts, and have me wear a princess dress. After a few attempts, he believed me that there was no way I could wear one of the princess dresses, so we compromised: I wore a dance skirt on my right thigh, and he wore one on his waist. As soon as he pulled the skirt up over his pants he shouted triumphantly: "MAYYYYYYYY-reeeee POPpins!" [Where did THAT come from??] We put on music and danced around the room. He admired the movement of the skirt when he twirled and jumped. It felt basically the same as when we attend our parent-child "creative movement" class together on Saturday mornings.

Dance Skirt, Day One

Then DT came home and said "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" with an accusing glance in my direction. I took him into the kitchen and pulled the old "the easiest way to get him to forget about the skirt is not to make a big deal out of it" with a decided flavor of "leave him alone." DT harrumphed and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get David out of the skirt. He used gentle methods like this one: "David, let's play soccer. But you need to take the skirt off so it doesn't get dirty." David complied, and then as soon as soccer was over, put the skirt back on. It came off for bathtime, and then got put back on, right over the pajamas. (And after I had painted his nails black for Halloween. It was his idea, I swear.) DT was furious when he saw that in the morning "You let him SLEEP in the skirt?!"

My instinct was wrong. The skirt was not a "he'll forget about it in a day" phenomena. In fact, when he woke up in the skirt on Monday morning, he wanted to wear it to school. Not only that, he wanted to ditch his whole planned Halloween costume (a construction worker), and wear his dance skirt. Or better yet, his dance skirt WITH his construction costume. (Later in life, that would make an awesome costume. Can't you see him in college, wearing a tutu and a hard hat and singing "YMCA"?) But, we convinced him that construction workers do not wear skirts, they wear jeans. When all the Trick-or-Treating was finished, he put back on the pajamas and the dance skirt.

Tuesday, same story. He wanted to wear the skirt to school. (I would have let him wear the skirt to school. There are kids in his class who wear Superman costumes when it's not Halloween, and who wear winter hats in July. It's definitely a flexible dress code. DT on the other hand wanted to lay down the law and tell David "boys don't wear skirts. period." We compromised on simply keeping the skirt at home.) We convinced him it would get dirty at school and should stay home for its own good. He relented. The first thing he did when he came home after school was run up to his room and fetch the skirt.

Dance Skirt, Day Five (after school, w/cowboy ensemble)

The week continued on much the same. No matter that DT tried to hide the skirt in Maria's room (she sneaked it back into David's bedstand and got a timeout as a result). No matter that DT was clearly aggravated. David loves his skirt. He wore it most mornings and every evening. But not outside the house.

Until Saturday. Because Saturday is dance class (the aforementioned creative movement class). And what better possible place to wear one's beloved dance skirt than dance class?? So, David dressed himself like this:

Dance Skirt, Day Seven

Football jersey? check. Basketball shorts? check. Dance skirt? check. Maria's old flowery rain boots? check, check. Ready for class! And by Saturday, DT's firm resolve was worn down. Fine, he grumbled, let him wear the skirt.

I thought I harbored none of DT's machismo until I felt the stares of the little girls' parents in David's class. Of course, it had to be the first week of a new session, with only one holdover family from the previous session. So, most of these mommies did not know that my son does not normally dress in a skirt, and is an excellent athlete, and really quite boy-ish. All they knew is that we were in dance class, with a pink skirt and nail polish (and I had dirty hair and lime green sweatpants). I felt a massive compulsion to explain ourselves. But I did not.

Today, ten days after the skirt entered our lives, I can tell you that David had it on over his pajamas this morning. It hasn't lost its shine at all.

What is most fascinating about this is not that David is wearing a skirt. To me, it makes perfect sense. He always wants to be like Maria, and Maria has lots of skirts and "pretty" things. He also loves silky material (that may be the common denominator among basketball shorts, football jerseys, and the dance skirt). And he has no concept that there are some things only girls do, or only boys do (except peeing standing up, he knows that one).

What is fascinating is how DT and I each reacted like extreme characters out of a Reality TV show after the skirt appeared. Despite DT's previous acceptance of other instances where David had his nails painted (DT has even painted them on occasion, so David can be "like Maria!"), DT's sitting next to me for an entire semester of "Gender, Sexuality, and the Law," his three-year service with me on the "Journal of Law and Feminism," and his absolute cheerleading of me breaking every gender norm in the law, the sight of his son in a skirt brought him back to some kind of deeply-macho, Texan place, where boys watch football and girls keep house. "I blame you for this!" he said. "Is it too much to ask that my son not wear a skirt?" He yelled. This turned me into a wickedly liberal and hyper-protective mother, convinced I had to "save" David from any disapproval or judgment by DT (or others) and loudly accept his skirt (and rainboots and nails).

Now, though, all that has past. The skirt is just the skirt. David is still loveable David. And DT and I are still the complicated blend of our own values and the broader cultures we grew up in that we always have been. So David will only get to wear the skirt at home and at dance class. At least for now.

My Child Did WHAT? (Updated with Video of Reward Dinner!)

2011-11-06T21:31:00.000-06:00

I guess there are two ways to look at it. Overreaction, perhaps. Or, or the other hand, maybe it was just enough shock and awe to maximize the likelihood of a quick solution. One or the other. Yeah, you’re right. It was overreaction.

As mentioned in the last post, Maria had been doing pretty well at school, so well that I had already blagged about it. (Ooh, I made a portmaneau. That's French for frankenword (blog-bragging). Here's another.) That was my first mistake, because it is a well-known cause-and-effect law of nature that once a general positive assessment about your child has been written into the ether, you have approximately 36 hours before the child will do something to call that assessment into question.

In our case, soon after writing the positive post, Maria and a friend stowed behind in the bathroom after all the other kids had moved on to computer resource* class. Once left alone, Maria went a little crazy. I can practically read my daughter’s mind. “Wait, there are no grown ups around...And no one knows I am in here...Dude! This is AWESOME.” She and the other girl proceeded to play in, over, around, among, etc., the stalls, running and chasing each other, climbing on anything and everything in the bathroom, all the while giggling hysterically. And loudly. Loud enough that the lunch ladies soon investigated, and then taught my daughter what it means to be busted. Her teacher was understandably disturbed at their behavior. She was also disturbed that when she tried to scold the girls, Maria just kept laughing. The teacher then made the predictable grown-up move, asking Maria why she was laughing and why she thought it was funny to be playing in the toilet. Maria was able to stifle her laugh, but not completely, as she kept smirking throughout the scolding.

*Resource classes. They are possibly the best aspect of the curriculum thus far. It’s without fail the first thing that Maria talks about when we ask her how her day was. At her school, the resource classes are a weekly rotation: Art, Music, Gym, Science, Computers. “Resource” class, however, has a totally different meaning where I grew up. That’s where they would put all the seriously messed up kids, the "BIC" kids, in Resource. I think BIC stands for Before Involuntary Commitment. Now, I know that my Step-Mother, an educational psychologist with the school district where I went to school, is getting upset reading this. She has an unshakable calling to help these truly disturbed kids. She has devoted her career and, at least recently, given the budget cuts to her department, nearly every waking hour, to helping these kids become happy, adjusted, productive members of society. That’s really great. But my memory of these kids, is that they were the ones chasing you around the playground, with nothing but their underwear and shoes on, trying to vomit on you. I am not making that up. The kid could make himself vomit. Fortunately for me, doing so slowed him down just enough for me to stay out of range, running and zigging like a rabbit until the bell (finally) would ring. I also remember one BIC kid telling my third grade teacher, “Shut-up, you Lard Ass” as he tried to light his desk on fire with a cigarette lighter. My third grade teacher wasn’t even fat, but I’d like to see YOU reason with that kid. So, no, not that kind of Resource Class.

As a result of The Incident, the teacher held Maria out of the remainder of the resource class and out of recess. This meant that Maria couldn't finish the project that she had started on her computer.* It also meant that Maria had to sit on the bench outside and watch the rest of the class play. The teacher also called MT’s cell phone, and judging by the voice mail, was clearly disappointed that MT wasn’t available to jointly scold Maria. (Aha! Sexism lives–they always call the Mom first. I was available, but no call to my phone. I guess it takes a while to break the mom-first default.) After she got the message and called me to discuss, MT and I responded like we were in the War Room of the Pentagon. Threat assessment: Moderate, possibly severe. Cause: nothing new, poor impulse control, combined with high energy and slightly mischievous social awareness, factors that when left unsupervised may result in, well, shenanigans of all sorts, including this sort. Is there a solution? Short term, yes. Long-term, needs more deliberation and consultation with other intelligence agencies (i.e., friends, family, parents, Maria’s pre-school teachers, and day-care providers). Execution: I leave work extra early to talk to the teacher, pull Maria aside and express to her that what happened was a big deal, completely wrong, and enough to prompt a “Family Meeting” the next day, scheduled for when David was napping, and a parent-teacher-child conference for Monday.

*The computer room is stocked with Macs and the teacher had them take a picture of themselves using the camera in the Mac and then draw on it with some sort of Mac Paintbrush or some such software. Like this one from earlier in the week:

The next day, the meeting went well. Maria was in a perfect reflective place, as opposed to the fragile, hungry, tired, and confused place she was on Friday night when I picked her up. We started by trying to present a united front with her teacher, explaining that everyone wants the best for her, both her parents and her teacher. Then we had Maria explain what was wrong about the bathroom incident, and she nailed this question: germs, privacy, safety/need to not get lost or left behind. Then we talked about impulse control, a concept that Maria already understands because I have talked about it with her on many an occasion, like when she recently put a rusty nail in her mouth or when she tries to climb the banisters at church. I decided that maybe we should all do a practice impulse control exercise. So, I got three M&Ms for each of us, made us all look to the ceiling and balance them on our lips, without eating them or dropping them for 2 minutes. I have no idea if Maria got it, but she was happy to have M&Ms to eat and giggled. MT and I closed the family meeting by doing an inception. Through well-crafted questions and subtle hints, we got Maria to come up with doing a sticker chart to help her behave better at school, creating good habits, not bad ones. As for a long-term solution, we sent an email to friends and family soliciting input, and got interesting reactions and suggestions, detailed in this companion post.

I had asked the teacher to think about what to use for the sticker chart, so at the parent-teacher-student conference, Maria's teacher was prepared. She had three concrete things for Maria to work on, under the larger headings of "self-control" and "being on time." These were three areas or times of the day where I think the teacher was constantly harping on Maria or where the teacher noticed Maria starting to lose control. Maria was going to work on: 1) being on time eating breakfast; 2) being on time in the bathroom; and 3) being on time transitioning from one thing to the next. We talked about each, and Maria helped me make the chart. She wrote in the days of the week and she drew icons to represent the three areas, a bowl of Kix (her favorite breakfast option at school), a toilet, and a grandfather clock, with the glass window for the pendulum, swung all the way to the right:

The teacher closed by telling Maria that this is not a punishment, but a way to remind Maria to focus on the task at hand so that she and the whole class can learn better. She said "all of us here love you very much, your parents love you and I love you."

We have now gone through two weeks of sticker charts. She earned every possible sticker but the breakfast on on day 2, when we dropped her off so late that the other kids were already done eating and playing with puzzles at her table. That one's at least in part on us. Now, when I talk to the teacher about Maria, all I get is "she did great, today." So, we are looking forward to a very grown-up reward for a girl who is learning to be more grown up. (We asked Maria what reward she wanted for filling up two weeks of charts, expecing to hear about a toy, or a movie, or a princess outfit. She asked for "the fanciest spaghetti." We are planning to take her (without David, who will stay behind with Baba/Nana) to fancy spaghetti, but still tasty for a five-year-old, which is to say, spaghetti that is not mixed with lobster, or lamb meatballs, or something her taste buds won't grow into for years).

Seems like we averted the crisis, or any further crisis. And hopefully, blag curse notwithstanding, our daughter is learning another useful lesson about how to act in school and in class. (To neutralize the curse, I had to explicitly pay due respect to its power, obv.)

So, here's to a Spaghetti Sunday. And to the occasional parental overreaction.

Parenting Consultants' Report

2011-11-06T20:53:00.001-06:00

As part of our multi-point response plan to The Incident, we convened a virtual meeting of our Family Security Council to discuss the long-term handling of what was going on in Maria's class. The distinguished group includes my mom and step-dad, two teachers with a combined total of over 75 years of experience; MT’s step-mom, another career educator, and former dean of one of the main colleges of education in Minnesota; my dad, a psychologist; my step-mom, an educational psychologist for more than 30 years; two substitute teachers who love Maria (MT's mom and aunt); and my sister, a recent top grad from Berkeley in early learning and cognitive science. Not too shabby, eh?

The issues go beyond The Incident (thoroughly explained in the companion to this post) and include general difficulty listening and following instructions. (I think those were two things that were said about me in my last work evaluation...) The discussion with our family and friends also centered on trying to figure out whether there is a larger problem with Maria, or the teacher, or both, and if so, what to do then. Universally, our impartial consultants exhibited a willingness to cut Maria some slack. There was some criticism of her parents, and our team criticized the teacher as well. The consensus critique: leaving two new kindergartners alone in the bathroom, and the no-recess punishment, which seemed more excessive than effective, especially for a 5 year old whose pent-up energy was likely a contributing factor in her actions.

My sister was critical of the seemingly knee-jerk use of fear or punishment as the incentive. She says the real trick is to tap into self-reinforcing positive behaviors, like cooperation and compassion. That's as opposed to obedience and punishment. As a parent, I feel that my only tools are rewards and punishments, so it's always useful to talk to her and realize there are other, more effective options. My dad agreed, noting that in his observation of me and MT, we have allowed our children to have a voice, to have input in what happens to them, encouraging them to communicate, to articulate their reasons for wanting something. And it’s true. Both MT and I revolted against the “Because I said so” rules of our youth and, without talking about it or planning it, have adopted a very different approach, maybe to a fault. One of those things that regularly comes out of our mouths is, "Tell us your reasons. Our reasons are...." As a result, our daughter has become a very clever reason-giver and negotiator. (David, for his part, hasn’t moved much beyond “Because I love it,” but he, too, is starting to understand how we prefer to handle disagreements.) My dad suggested trying to use her strengths in this area to help her understand how to deal with her teacher and her frustrations.

MT’s step-mom looked past the incident and gave us some big-picture perspective.  She explained that Maria was so used to controlling her own day at day care and that her day care was a very fluid place, making room for creativity and the varied ways that kids learn and succeed. Maria could spend hours in the art area if she wanted (something she did every day), and the teachers would have her think about color patterns or story-telling in her pictures. By contrast, the fact that the kindergarten teacher is likely having to teach to kids who may not even know their letters, and the current focus of the grade school curriculum on math and reading, which misses the naturally well-rounded curiosity that kids have, especially ones like Maria, meant that Maria was now spending much less time learning through the kinds of activities that came naturally to her. She was also having to confine herself to a much more rigid schedule made up of a more transitions from one short block of time to another. Add to that, less control over her own time, and it’s not surprising that Maria was having difficulty.

My step-mom struck a chord with MT when she explained that Maria should view her school world as a community, just like she sees her family as a small community unit. She suggested that we would likely make some headway asking Maria to think about how she can help the class, and contribute to the class. She thought Maria would easily understand that her contribution would go beyond things like just cleaning up after yourself. Instead, Maria would realize that every kid had to tell the teacher what their goal was at the beginning of the year, and that the teacher has to try to help every kid reach each of their goals. Maria’s job isn’t just to reach her own goal, but to act in a way that helps the teacher help every kid to learn.

MT's mom, who has spent the last few years substituting in the school districts around town had a slightly different view. She was most concerned with how Maria was feeling. Knowing Maria, and very likely knowing MT, she thought that feeling ashamed and angry at the teacher would likely make things worse, and she wondered if the teacher's reactions were possibly the worst way to deal with a child like Maria. At the same time, she has observed another hallmark of our parenting, one, that like the reasons thing, wasn't by design: at home Maria (and David) get lots of chances to do what we are asking. And lots of last chances. And some-times last-last chances. Is that too many chances? So if that's what she is accustomed to, you can't expect her to jump the first time the teacher says it. So Maria is conditioned to ignore the first 3 or 4 requests, with the only consequence being threatened time outs. All good things for me and MT to remember.  MT's mom also felt strongly that if Maria was already punished at school, then she shouldn't be punished again at home.

MT's aunt came up with the idea that we would eventually implement (having used it successfully a couple times in day care): "Perhaps you could have a reward system at home. Every day that she has a good day at school, that is no time outs, etc, she could get a sticker, or something." Aunt C. also came up with what will certainly be part of our Back-Up Plan, if we see regression or a different issue: visit the classroom for a half day.

My mom was the most critical of the teacher. Her email response consisted of 24 separate questions to ask the teacher.  Questions like these: Are the teacher's instructions clear? If Maria is talking with her friends instead of listening, has the teacher moved her to another seat? Why can't Maria talk while doing her work? Does the teacher have a clear sign for "I'm talking now, not you. I need your attention." Some teachers raise their hands, or have a "listen to me now puppet." Is the material too easy for Maria? Is she not being challenged? Why were the children left in the bathroom unattended? What positive reinforcements does the teacher give? How long has she been teaching Kindergarten (not just teaching--kindergarten is quite different from say, 2nd grade or even 1st grade)? My mom was especially worried that the teacher and the class was too rigid for a 5 year old. And that very well may be true. Whenever I drop off, the teacher has some soft classical music playing, and is trying very hard to project a calm, quiet, classroom. Well, my child is not usually described as either calm or quiet. And you know what - I like that about her. I want her to have some wild in her, some crazy in her eyes. I want her to be supremely confident and fearless, to be able to stand up and fight. I want her to be charismatic and compelling, to have substance and presence. You know, quiet and calm are entirely overrated.

In thinking about all of this, I flash back to all of the parent teacher conferences that my mom had to have with my teachers. Like the one in first grade when the teacher said I would be a juvenile delinquent. Who says that about a 6 year old? That teacher had no business being out there! No wonder my mom went all la Febe. Then there was the classic conference in which my mom just completely destroyed the teacher with one line. I know what kind of power my mom wields with her eyes and tone of voice, so this was a brutal knock out punch: "Well, some kids learn because of their teachers. [Picture the eyes squinting just a bit as she inhales through her nose, and then in a low, calm tone...] And some kids learn in spite of them." As a kid, it was awesome to know that your mom had your back like that, and I think I realized why: it gave me and my brother (my sister never did anything wrong) power in the asymmetrical teacher-student relationship.  It wasn't that my mom disbelieved the teacher when the teacher said what we did. She just made the teachers think she disbelieved them. Then she'd come home, and nail us for doing whatever stupid things we had done. But knowing that your mom wasn't going to blindly accept what the teacher said, that was worth the beat down that followed.

I tried to remember what I could about being in Maria's shoes. I know that I got under my teachers' skins. I remember being held out of recess on my FIRST DAY of kindergarten. I remember my first grade teacher (and second and third and, well you get the point) writing my name on the board--with a check mark--quite a few times each week. I remember my second grade teacher calling me out for sliding across the room on my stomach like a snake to talk to my friend on the other side of the room.  I remember my fourth grade teacher tripping over something hanging out from my desk (for like the tenth time) and her losing it, ordering me to get up, picking up my desk, and dumping the entire contents on the floor, with a "There! Now, Clean. Out. Your. Desk!" I still can't sit still. MT has never been able to work or study near me because I am constantly moving and whistling, and tapping, and smacking.  As a kid, I must have been constantly making noise and moving, distracting the teacher and the other kids.

I also tried to remember some of the things that my mom did that helped me. There was a little soccer ball eraser that I took to school and could play with and rub with my thumb, to keep my hands busy. There were the countless sticker charts from kinder on up. I even feel like I had to do one in high school, but maybe that never happened.  I remember my parents stepping in to allow me to leave my first grade class every day to read with the second grade class (I loved that. All of my brother's friends thought I was a genius! Talk about an incentive to read.) I remember my parents stepping in again and getting me moved to a different teacher for the last 5 weeks of the school year one year.

So Maria's problems seem familiar to me, and I think she is going to have to learn the same lessons that I did as a student, and that I still am learning as an adult. Even through my thirties I am still learning that I can rub people the wrong way. I can be a bit too much--too much talking, too much intensity or aggression, too much confidence, too much energy. I can be annoying, like Gilbert Godfried.  I can be abrasive. (Sometimes, I can be an asshole. MT says I usually save those times just for her...) So, hopefully, I can also help my kids to turn it down a little bit, to be "just enough."

Seeing my kids (both of them) exhibiting my same traits, high energy, demanding, loud, headstrong, and then seeing how these characteristics may be making it difficult for Maria's teacher to like her or relate to her, I think my mom was only part right. Yes, sometimes, it was a lousy teacher's fault. Yes, sometimes the teachers had no ability to see me or to teach to me. Yes, I learned in spite of my teachers. But the times when I learned because of them, those were the times when I was learning in spite of myself.  Maria is going to have to learn how to do that, too. She has to learn how to be herself, full of energy and life, while at the same time being able to know when to be still and listen, when to defer to the authority of others. I naturally defy more than I defer.

So, I don't know if this is just the start of a longer struggle. And, I don't know if she will ever learn how to do all that. Come to think of it, I don't know if I ever will.

Maybe MT is the problem...No, I meant to type something completeley different than that, like maybe MT is a good complement for us both. Right there to help us realize how others are reacting, and right there to soften my/our edge with some comment or reminder, something to deflect the glare. I guess that's a good thing, even if it is annoying when she kicks me under the table to make me shut it up.

What Kindergarten Taught Me So Far

2011-10-18T20:51:00.000-05:00

No, MKB isn't blogging...yet. But her KG class is teaching us about her, and about ourselves.

Despite our anxiety about it, Maria showed very few signs of stress about starting Kindergarten. And, four weeks in, she has completely adjusted. Maria comes home full of new things, from the songs that she learned (her repertoire grows daily), to the friends that she made, to the new things she discovered about her school.   Almost from the moment when we dropped her off, she's been happy and excited about all parts of school.

It's fun to see her experiencing classic elementary school staples for the first time. She explained how the girls played the boys during gym (the resource class for last week) in dodgeball. "Do you know what dodgeball is, Dad?" She reported that the boys won the first game, but that the girls won the second, "and I think whoever wins the second game wins all the games." I agreed.   The boy-girl rivalry reminded me of something I said when I worked at my church day care one summer:* "Boys are dumb and girls are better." I thought maybe Maria would like to hear it, after she told me about the boy-girl rivalry.  Instead, she explained that two boys got in "big trouble" for chanting "Boys rule, girls drool." So much for the kindergarten battle of the sexes, but I suppose that's for the best.

*It was the summer just before law school (seems like it was a past life to me now), and I was in charge of about ten or twelve 5th and 6th grade boys, 11 of whom were on some form of medication. In addition to my boys, I also helped out with the other groups. My favorite kid was a little 6 year old girl with a surprising vocabulary. One day a group of boys said something or did someting to her, so I told her to always remember, "Boys are dumb, and girls are better." It became something we would say to each other for the rest of the summer. That was far from the most unorthodox thing that I did. For instance, I came up with the "Surfer Girl" Game. I'd play the song "Surfer Girl" by the Beach Boys while me and one of my boys held up a wooden plank (I don't know why we had a wooden plank, maybe from a shelf?) and walked around the room with my favorite girl "surfing" on it. Where the Hell were the adults?? Now, in my defense, I only had one kid cut his head open on my watch all summer. I was helping another kid in the bathroom, when I heard the commotion and ran out to see Kevin bleeding ALL OVER. Looking back, I remember bits and pieces - like explaining to his parents how "No one was supposed to be swinging from that rope." And "I don't even think it will need many stitches." And, this one, "Kevin's a real tough kid."  I think I would lose it if someone said that after Maria or David had some kind of serious head injury. These parents really didn't do anything that stands out in response, though. Come to think of it, his parents were really to blame. I mean, they even brought Kevin back the next day.

Up until last Thursday, the biggest problem to date was the magnets.  MT had a short trial in Montana,* and while in Billings, she found a little boutique shop that sold, among other things, little magnets like these:

MT thought that they were perfect for Maria's locker and bought her initials and a glittery heart, and the magnets went up on the inside of her locker on Day 1. But, then, on Day 2, when I picked Maria up, she said she wanted to put the magnets on the front of the locker. You guessed it, by the next morning, they were gone. Maria was in tears. When combined with the momentary loss of her back pack and jacket later in the week (both resurfaced a day or two later), she's learned a valuable life lesson: no one is looking after your stuff for you anymore. She's not upset about the magnets anymore and hasn't brought them up since that first week.

*I think this was the case where her client told her that they would settle for 7 steer and 8 bales of hay, or was it 8 steer and 7 bales. MT could scarcely hold back her embarrassment when making the offer, but opposing counsel (local in Montana) didn't skip a beat, saying, "that's a pretty steep price, I don't think my client will agree." Not having a clue as to the market value of various bovine species, MT had to take his word for it. Things worked out for the best, as they ended up not settling, and having a brief trial. A trial that MT won, after a shining Perry Mason moment, in which MT got the opposing party to admit that he hadn't really read his sworn affidavit, and that he signed it only because his attorney said he had to. Worse, although the copy in evidence was notarized, he admitted that it had not been notarized at the time that he signed it or ever in his presence. Opposing counsel was probably thinking at that moment that settling for a whole herd of cows would have been fair.

Apart from that, and up until Friday, things had gone very well. Of course, the teacher had reported that Maria was disruptive during some group time, attempting to talk to Audrey, or that she didn't stop working on something and clean up with the rest of the class, or that she took too long in the bathroom and got left behind when her class went out to recess. These aren't great, but they aren't that serious, either. And then came Friday. Maria had an incident. She and a friend took too long in the bathroom, and got left behind as the rest of the class went to resource class. Then Maria and her friend starting goofing around, yelling silly words to each other, giggling, and crawling along the bathroom floor. One of the lunch ladies busted them and we got a couple of calls from Maria's teacher. More on this in a future post, but within a half hour, MT and I game-planned what we were going to do: I was to leave work early and get the full scoop from the teacher, then briefly address it with Maria, mostly to inform her of the "family meeting" to occur on Saturday while David had his nap, and implement the sticker chart as a starter response. School is closed Wed-Friday this week, so we will implement the Monday after the MEA break. Like I said, fodder for the next post.

Other than the Incident, she has adjusted very well. Overall, she loves being at school, making new friends, and learning. She has weekend homework every Friday, assignments that are tailor-made for kindergartners. Last week, she had to decorate a brown bag and put things in it that were a reflection of who she is, and what she likes. Maria stuffed it full of the following:

dry spaghetti
two chocolate easter eggs from months ago
one marble painted like a globe
one pocket-sized Ariel doll, in wedding dress
one sparkly pink shoe
the book "Matilda," from our Roald Dahl series
one paint brush
the photo album that MT ordered from the Martha's Vineyard Vacation
a coaster art project made from tracing her hand
a selection of shells from her collection
one pink bangle

Maria came home and reported that she got to explain her grab bag the other day. She was very proud of herself and told us, "turns out I was the longest speaker of all!" We expected nothing less.

A year late and a dollar short

2011-10-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

Editors Note: Happy anniversary. Not to MT and DT, but to this post. It chronicled our adventures during the state fair and over Labor Day weekend . . . in 2010. Yes, this post has existed in draft form for a year under the no-nonsense working title: "state fair and labor day." It has now been revised as part "Back-Blog" and part retrospective on how much things change and yet how much they stay the same.

Last Labor day, my sister and her family combined the trip out to Cousinorama with a quick weekend in Minnesota. It was a blast, especially because we were all able to marvel at the Miracle Babies, who, by this time last year, as you can see for yourselves, had packed on all the necessary pounds to catch up to their actual age counterparts. Of course, the MBs caught their first cold, but they will thank my family for that this year, when their immune systems are that much stronger for it. (The more things stay the same: Labor Day 2011 brought a similar sinus treat as in 2010!)

Here are Michael and Wagner (or is it Wagner and Michael?) last year telling each other jokes:

And here is a video of them this year (I think they had more fun during Labor Day 2010):

Not to be left out, of course, Counsint Chiara and Maria provide proof that the MN State Fair 2010 was truly the highlight of the summer:

Last year, we hit the barns, the Miracle of Life booth, the sky ride, the old food favorites (fried pickles!, Chocolate Covered Frozen Key Lime Pie on a stick, fresh roasted corn on the cob, Sweet Martha's), tried some new foods (chocolate covered bacon on a stick), the giant slide, the ferris wheel (Chiara declined, content to watch her cousin get raised up, ever so slowly like on the end of a huge minute hand, to vertigo-inducing heights), and discovered that there is only one thing better than marshmallows on a stick - Hello Kitty marshmallows on a stick. (I know, gag me for adults, but these girls have different taste buds, tailor made for sickeningly sweet sugar loads.)

State Fair 2011 was much like State Fair 2010 - animal barns, Miracle of Life Booth, rides, fried pickles, CCFKLP, corn, cookies. But there were a few new foods: Go Blue Moon Diner! and their sweet corn ice cream. Alas, one thing that was different was we forgot not only our nice camera, but also MT's i-phone, in the car and have no pics to document the 2011 adventure.

Last year, MT and I also took the kids to hang with some friends (after my sister took off for Cousinorama) at a lake in Western Minnesota. Where Little David learned to jump!

(He was so very proud-as he should be--look at that clearance!)

This year, he's doing agility drills in my state of the art training facility. Yes, that IS state of the art, OK? (And you might want to keep an eye on Maria, too).

Here is David, reacting to Maria's jumping skills from last year's Labor Day trip.

(Of course, this pic is kind of embarassing since I have really packed on a lot of muscle since last year, so....)

As for Maria, jumping is nothing. Compared to Fall 2010, Fall 2011 could scarcely be more different. I try to imagine what it's like for her. On weekdays, she would be in day care 9.5-10 hours a day, compared to the 3 or so hours of awake time at home, so that was a huge part of her life. Same building, same teachers, same routine, all since she was 4 months old. And then, her little world changed, almost overnight. New teacher, hundreds more kids, a building several times as large as what she knew. Really the only thing that didn't change about her weekdays was BFF Audrey.

Which reminds me, now that they are both in Kindergarten, their parents allowed allowed them their first sleep-over, at our house last week. They were great, execpt for the sleeping part. We had to intervene (for good) at 10:30, and moved Maria onto the floor in our room. After that everyone got a little sleep. So, the girls have each other during the day, and they seem to have taken to their new surroundings without much trouble. As you can see in the clip below, they are learning tons, including these songs, which provided David and us some welcome entertainment at dinner. I think they learned these in their "resource" class. That week was music, last week was gym, this week is science, I think. The rotating resource schedule, which also includes art was one of the things we really liked about her school. (Clearly another thing that has changed since last year: my flip camera! Too bad the girls are so shy.)

Here's to Uncle Matt

2011-09-28T22:18:00.000-05:00

Every Labor Day weekend, the extended family of my sister's husband has a huge reunion on the shores of Lake Michigan. The event has claimed a sort of mythological status, like Woodstock or Burning Man. While we have never attended, "Cousinorama" has a gravitational pull that brings my sister up from California every year.  And I mean every year.  Nor rain nor sleet, nor high-risk double pregnancy, nor super preemies nor, as we learned in 2011, law school. Now, my sister isn't starting law school. Her husband, Matt, is the one who recently started classes after two full decades working as an in-house paralegal for a software giant in San Fran.

To put the Cousinorama pilgrimage positively, as my sister would encourage us to do, would be to say that she has a knack for adventure or that she relishes the quality time you can spend with your children while on a road trip. Taking an infant to Italy? Sign her up! Strapping three kids under 4 in the van for a cross-country drive? She's all Griswold over it. The more cramped, the better. That's how memories are made. And, well, that's one way we're different. I don't really want to take my kids to the grocery store, much less on a plane. For me, family traveling puts me in crisis mode, sustainable for only short bursts. After the initial run, I end up alternating between manic, decisive, do-everything pack-mule crisis-mode DT and don't talk, don't move, certainly don't make eye contact, just breathe survival-mode DT. Fun, huh, MT?

It's during those high-stress times that MT and I start to get worn down. With our busy work schedules, even the daily routines get to be too much - the picking up, making dinner, doing the chores, all while figuratively and literally wrestling with our children to get them to go to bed so we can squeeze in another hour or two of work.

In the last few weeks, amidst the pressures of our current schedules, I've found myself thinking about my sister's husband from time to time. Some of it is related to how I recall law school and some of it is that coping mechanism for making it through the rough patches at home.

Several times since Labor Day, my thoughts have vicariously drifted back to eleven years ago, when MT and I met at the start of law school, that intellectual smelting site. We were both full of kinetic energy, anticipating what we knew was going to be three years of something between Hogwarts, Hell week and high school.  Now, looking back at our first day of class (MT and I had all of our first semester classes together, as we were part of the same 17-person small group), and our first year of law school, I can't believe how completely clueless we all were. Clueless about the law, and kind of about life, too. Somehow MT and I ended up making pretty good life choices, selecting clerkships, jobs, where to live, even without any idea what would end up being the most important things to us this many years later. I think Uncle Matt is going to have a different experience.

Civil Procedure Day 1 for me and MT: Owen Fiss, one of the preeminent academicians of the last 50 years, a true giant cloaked in Warren Court mystique, began the class with an inspiring, carpe diem speech when he took the podium. I remember that, as he shifted into the Socratic during that first day, he stumped the entire 60-person class with what I now think of as a rather silly-easy question. He asked us how do you sue someone. Silence. No hands. Just a room full of "Flick? Flick who?" Roughly 60 students, all of whom were intelligent and highly driven, not to mention prepared for class, and nothing. And that's because there was no Uncle Matt in the class.  He could have jumped in and saved us from our collective awkward moment of ignorance. This is a fact: I learned more civil procedure from Matt than I ever did from Fiss.

In fact, not only were there too few Uncle Matts in my classes, I think that there are far too few Uncle Matts in the world. This is the coping mechanism part. Seriously, who doesn't need this guy around? You have to read halfway down to get to the lead about Matt, past all the gratitude journal stuff (also, if you click on the gratitude journal link, and scroll down a bit, you'll be rewarded with a big smiling David).  Mary Poppins, indeed! Everything in that post is the truth, in fact, it's probably even watered down. In our house we know that when Uncle Matt comes to visit, somehow, even with three kids of his own, our house ends up cleaner than before he came, there are more groceries (he packs a week's worth of food for the three hour plane ride so that from the moment he arrives, our fridge is magically stocked), we have more "time off" for luxurious things like working out and yoga, mealtimes become a snap, my fantasy football team inevitably improves, and everyone is generally in a good mood. Even writing this blog made me go from resentful of MTs currently constant work load to feeling blessed and all good. No wonder my sister thought of the gratitude journal. The man is a gift and wholly underappreciated, even when he's being appreciated.

So, here's to Uncle Matt, a guy who is probably cleaning up after dinner, while reading to his oldest daughter, with a pod-cast of Nina Totenberg playing in his ear, and video highlights of Zinedane Zidane playing in an endless loop on his laptop, next to a case brief for his contracts class.

Three Is The Magic Number

2011-09-20T20:13:00.000-05:00

Everyone in our house gets a birthday week. David finagled a birthday fortnight.

First, his aunt and uncles on my side were in town for Labor Day weekend, so we had a family party early. Including: The Motorcycle! That's right, David has his own set of motorized wheels. He likes to park it in the garage, next to our cars. If you ask him why he parks there, he will give you his new favorite phrase "Because I love it!"

Then, the following weekend we had his train party, with another aunt and Grandma.

It was at this party that he got his new favorite digger. As Grandma says: "It has German engineering!" David doesn't care what ethnicity it is, he loves that it has so many cool buttons that work. He even uses the backhoe to deliver broccoli to his mouth at the dinner table. And he has taken to letting the digger sleep in his room, on the bean bag.

On David's actual birthday (Sept 15), he got to open presents right away, including a new tote. He recognized his name! (He used to just know the letter D, but after a few days in his preschool class he was talking about the "V-I-D" part. He also was starting to play teacher at home. "No, Mom. You're David. I'm the teacher.")

Then I took him to breakfast (Lil' Smokies and pancakes) before school.

After school, DT had taken Davy's crib away (crib? some called it a fire hazard, others, a toddler cell...) and replaced it with a big boy bed! And vehicle bedding!

This is a gratuitous underwear photo, since I had mentioned before how cute he is in his undies. It also lets me tell a story about David and underwear. During his first week of preschool, he was kicking the soccer ball around with me one evening, on the same field where Maria was having actual soccer instruction, and he started to tell me how "At school, I had no pull ups, Momma." "Oh, you mean you wore underwear today?" "Nope." "Did your teachers put you in diapers?" "No." [Laughing] "Did you have anything under your shorts?!" "NO!!" But I didn't think he was talking about RIGHT THEN. In fact, after we got home and he was eating dinner, he started to pee right onto the floor. Which is when I figured it all out. Too late.

Finally, the last birthday bash. It was the kid party. Ten children aged 2-5 went on a tour of Fire Station 14 together. Did you know they *actually* use a fire pole? The best part was sitting in "the rig."

David and his BFF Henry got to hold the fire hose.

Then, David blew out his last set of candles. (Why five candles? I have no idea. I must have been on birthday auto-pilot.)

Note the junior fire chief stickers, layered on the short-sleeved soccer shirt, layered over the construction pajamas:

Why so many parties?? Because we love him!

First Day of School!

2011-09-12T10:03:00.000-05:00

Some things we know, but we're in the dark, too.

We know that today is the day. We know that Maria loved the prep week she spent at Expo during "Camp Kindergarten." We know the school has the best playground we (and the random kid in that you tube link) have ever been to. We know that there are countless people who love this school. People like David's (fairy?) Godmother, the president of the Expo PTO. People like the woman who teaches the Sr. High Sunday School class with me. We know there are lots of great kids in Kindergarten with her, like the five girls from Maria's day care and the son of one of MT's best friends from high school. We learned exactly where Maria will sit and who her teacher will be when MT, Maria and I recently met with her teacher.

In the last week, we also figured out the most important thing. Flash back eight months or so to when we were diligently visiting schools (eight of them). My number one criterion for choosing a school: staying with BFF Audrey. Now, I obviously couldn't say this to Mom and Dad Audrey for fear that they would think me shallow and stalk-y. So I kept my mouth shut, sending them telepathic communications instead and passively asking what schools they were thinking of ranking #1. With our #1s identical, both girls fortunately got into Expo, and at the open house, unbeknownst to the other, each mom put a handwritten note on the registration form requesting that their daughter be placed in the same class as the other's. Then the bad news. Come late August we receive the eagerly anticipated envelope. A quick text confirmed that although Maria's teacher was "Larson," Audrey's was, well, Not Larson. Parents, problem; problem, parents. MT refused to let me call the school, not wanting me to go all La Febe on our brand new principal. So, I tried to remain level-headed, declaring as MT was dialing the phone, "You need to make this happen. We. Cannot. Fail." I have no idea what happened at Audrey's house, but I doubt either parent responded with my same degree of drama. Whatever they said or didn't say, it must have worked because a few days later, Principal called back to say they moved Audrey into Maria's class.

We are absolutely thrilled that our intervention was successful, and that success more than outweighs whatever sheepish guilt we felt for being a twinge crazy. At our parent-teacher-student meeting last week, we all sat down at a kid's table and noticed that Maria, Audrey, and their mutual third muskateer (previously refered to in this blog as "Snow Fairy") are all at the same table together, keeping their streak of always being in the same room together alive for at least one more year.

The streak started when the girls were about 5 months old. Here they are at about 16 months, on their last day in the baby room, before graduating to Little Angels:

Also at the conference, we listened as the teacher asked Maria what her goal was for the year. This was completely serious, and not mocking or cutesy. Maria at first responded with "like a soccer goal?" and then, after the teacher explained it to her, Maria said, "to learn to read." That's a good goal, I thought. Survey says? Ding Ding Ding!

We also have known exactly what Maria was going to wear, having not only quarantined the new clothes for the past 6 weeks, but also having seen Maria put them in proper hierarchical order. Maria "made her mannequin" with outfit #1 last night:

For food, Saint Paul public schools now have free breakfast for all kids, so we roughly know what that means after reading the monthly menu. And, given that we can't fathom the extra work of packing her a lunch everyday, we have decided to start with paying for the lunch and see how that goes. 2 meals down. We know roughly how it works, and it's basically the same as a meal plan in college. We put money on her account and she has a pin number that she has to enter at the end of the line. MT came up with this mnemonic chant: "Please buy more, 4-5-4!" Now, what we don't know is what Maria will actually end up eating. Before we settled on it, she told me that Expo was her favorite choice because I mentioned to her that they have hard boiled eggs, so I suspect that will be a frequent item. Other than that, I worry that she's going to eat nothing but fruit cups or chocolate milk or something called "cheese bread." I did make her promise to always grab some kind of vegetable, but somehow I think she'll get the part about her parents having no way of knowing what she eats. I even thought about bluffing and saying that we get an email after her lunch listing what she chose, but I can't bluff that because, being her mother's daughter, I firmly believe she'd test it and soon realize that it wasn't true.

Stepping back, MT and I know one of the fundamentals, too: that when we in her shoes, everything turned out just fine. We both figured things out, and that was back when no one knew about healthy hot lunch options and poeple thought bullying was character-building. We made it, she'll be fine, right? Incidentally, we managed to dig up some kiderpics to share:

(OK, so this one could be closer to 5 years old instead of 5.5, but whatev)

So we know a lot. But there is so much more that we not only don't know, but have no way of controlling. We don't know if she's prepared. She fidgets all the time, and she has what we've taught her to call "impulse control" problems from time to time, like showing kids at day care her underwear and cutting things with scissors. She eats her hair. She talks back to us. She sometimes takes advantage of her little brother. And we know that she's feeling anxious. We have noticed a marked change in behavior since our parent-teacher-student meeting and since Maria had a celebrated "last day" at day care. She's fragile and acting up, both signs we've seen before when she's facing lots of change. We know this, but we don't know what we can do to really help. Extra hugs, extra one-on-one time, lots of positive talking up about kindergarten (although that last one may end up just making it a bigger deal), but is that really doing anything?

And then again, we watched her this weekend and quieted those thoughts. She has an extraordinary vocabulary, one that includes the word "vocabulary." She surprises us with her imagination, telling us Dahlian stories about what happens at "her land," the place she goes in a magic elevator after we leave her room at night. Her notebook from daycare was full of artistic ability and concepts, well beyond what her daycare teachers had ever seen before or expected. Her memory is just as precise as her mother's, and I find myself getting the "court reporter" to read back my own words with her just as I do when takling to MT. She's resourceful, logical, and loves to learn, about everything from the solar system (she explained to me how Pluto used to be a planet but now is a "dwarf planet" along with another one who's name I have already forgotten) to the diets of dinosaurs to the origin of Frankenstein. Saturday night, she and MT played Yahtzee, and when MT asked what two 6s were, Maria said quickly, "12." When MT asked "what about four 2s," Maria thought and said, "well, 2 plus 2 is 4 and two 4s is eight." She is independent, thoughtful, fearless, and confident--perhaps to a fault. She speaks her mind and knows what is fair, what is right, and what is expected. We know our daughter, and we know that she is ready--for another step, another increment towards becoming her own person.

Her parents, on the other hand are most certainly not ready, or not ready for what we think it means for her to be in school. To us, early elementary blends together, and although I think there is almost never a true slippery slope in anything, it still feels like she's 5 going on 5th grade. And we aren't ready for that. School is a new routine for us, which we can get used to. School brings a new set of have tos and can'ts, like no more 3-phase vacations in early spring. Again, we can adjust. But the real curve ball is that "school" also marks the start of her growing into her own person, and rational or not, how can that happen without necessarily also meaning that her indepedence leaves us behind? I know, I know, we're barely in the middle of Toy Story 1, Andy isn't going to college for a long, long time. But, school is still a very definite, real step that she is taking, and that direction is away, on her own. We won't be there to calm her down, or solve her problems, or be her saviors. She has to do that on her own. All we can do is wait and see.

We have no idea what her day or her week will be like, but we do know what her morning, her evening, and her weekend will be like. We don't know how she will react when her feelings are hurt, or when she gets lost, or when she gets frustrated or lonely. But we do know that she's had to navigate a lot of that at day care already, and she has true friendship with Audrey and the Snow Princess. And whether we want to or not, we have to belive that even though she might eat half a dozen hard boiled eggs today, or absent-mindedly lick the table, or breakdown and cry throughout the day, she will not only figure it out, but will do so in a way that makes us proud.

And, she's off!

Rites of Passage

2011-09-03T23:41:00.000-05:00

If you want to get in the door to our house, you need a key, but you also need some magic words. Then you will have to repeat those same words to get through the door to the kitchen, the door to anyone's bedroom, the bathroom, and out the gate at day care. Here is David, trying to teach you the password.*

----------

Last Friday, we watched Toy Story 3 (again) with Maria. Seeing Andy go off to college and leave his toys (and his parents) at the end of the movie upset Maria a lot. She started crying and saying "I am never going to college. I want to live here forever!" To which I assured her, she would eventually really, really, want to leave home.

A few minutes later, after her brain had done further churning, she asked me: "Mom, when will I stop being a kid?" That's a tough question! I was quiet. I considered the legal answer: "on your eighteeenth birthday, dear," but I knew that didn't really answer the question. The question was really something like "when will I stop wanting to play with toys all day and live at home?" So, I answered it like this: "Changing from being a kid to an adult doesn't happen all at once, but slowly over time. You will feel a little more grown up when you start getting breasts.** And you will feel a bit more grown up when you learn to drive. And a bit more when you go to college. And a lot more when you get your first job. And then when you get married and have kids, you will feel pretty grown up."

How would you have answered??

I was foolish enough to ask her at the end of the conversation whether she thought I was still a little bit of a kid. She laughed heartily and said "NO!"

*If you didn't catch it, the password is Chicken, Chicken, Toot, toot, Bubble, Bubble, Pop.

** DT was very annoyed that I started with breasts. He thinks she is already sufficiently obsessed with when her body will change. Too late.

Two-timing

2011-08-21T14:59:00.002-05:00

I am now officially two-timing -- I launched a professional blog since last posting at Daddytude. Let's hope that makes my posts here shorter and sweeter...

What have we been up to recently?
Well DT, feeling sentimental, re-arranged his schedule at the last minute to chaperone Maria's Last Preschool Field Trip. He got to ride the school bus with the best of them and herd children at the nature center.

Interestingly, we sent another chaperone to this same field trip a few years ago! (Nonna took a similar photo of Maria on the trip.)

Speaking of Maria's impending start of Kindergarten, we went to Target with a list of required supplies from the school yesterday. When I was a kid, I don't remember needing to bring a roll of paper towels and the dry erase markers for the teacher along with my own box of crayons. Oh well.

Even more exciting, in the past few weeks, Maria and David started to enjoy playing together. Not just playing separate things near each other, or fighting over who gets to ride the plasma car, I mean happily playing the same activity. What is the activity? FLYNN RIDER! (If you don't have a small child, Flynn Rider is the swashbuckling male protagonist in the Rapunzel movie "Tangled".)

Playing Flynn Rider usually means one child carries a satchel with a crown in it and jumps all over the furniture, while the other child chases Flynn and pretends to be either the bad thieving brothers or Maximus the horse. But this day, it just meant building a tall block-tower for the Rapunzel doll, before knocking it over.

David got a haircut this weekend. (Why do I always wait so long??)

He looks pretty good. But don't tell him that. If you do, you will get a response like this one that I got from him this morning: "I am not cute. I am just Davy. Not handsome."

That's our humble guy, after a "Dog Under." One thing he's happy to brag about though, is his new potty prowess. In the past couple of days, something has really clicked. He is able to tell us when he needs to use the bathroom and is motivated to do so. Today he has been in underwear all day! (Not without incident -- a poop ball ended up going straight from the bottom, into the Toy Story underwear, and then onto the floor, without ever hitting the toilet, necessitating a bath for all the bath mats.)

Also, we are reaping some rewards from our gardening. The monsoons of July wiped out our zucchini plant, but we are now getting cucumbers, carrots (they still have some growing to do -- see the shrimpy one below), and pumpkins.

And, when we tire of our own yard, we enjoy our neighbors'! Check out these Jack and the Beanstalk-sized sunflowers:

Only in Minnesota...

2011-08-07T13:42:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was John Deere day at our big Zoo. Okay, it was actually called Family Farm day, but there were John Deere tractors and volunteers everywhere, and for David, the tractors were way more exciting than the baby farm animals.

We boogied to a bluegrass band, sat on every tractor and riding mower available, and then . . . DT signed both kids up for the "tractor pull." What is a tractor pull, you say? I had never seen one before, but as these pictures attest it involves men in muscle shirts, real-life trucker hats, and kids pulling large metal contraptions by pedaling a mini-tractor.

David took it very seriously and was one of the best in the three-year old category. (We had to fib his age a little to let him participate.)

The point was to pull the "load" as many feet as possible, and Maria pulled it more than eighteen feet. Woo hoo! Not enough to win a gold trophy or proceed to the state-wide competition (yes, there is a state-wide competition!), but pretty good for a first time and while wearing flip flops and a dress.

Along the way to the farm area of the Zoo we saw how camels cool off:

And, we had our own farm day at home, harvesting our first zucchini of the garden (a bit belatedly):

Happy August!

Back to the Future

2011-07-26T21:33:00.002-05:00

Enough of all this back-blogging about May and June -- let's talk about the present: July!* And quick, before it's over! Actually, let's not talk about July. Let's show July. (Warning! Low quality Iphone photos ahead!)

*This is our fifth post in July, making it our most prolific blogging month since 2008.
We started the month with a patriotic bang.

July was HOT. So, we broke in a new backyard pool. (Check out the air David is getting!)

And we found some new local beaches.

From which we worked hard to send some visual love to Texas.

We ate some ice cream.

We saw some great construction sites around our neighborhood. One weekend, David saw a digger parked with its scoop around a Bobcat and said "Look! They are sleeping together!" [Sorry, no photo of the naughty construction vehicles.]

We rode some pretend vehicles at a local fair.

Then it rained so much that we developed a lake in our backyard that went up to Maria's thighs.

We (re-)read lots of Roald Dahl. In the process, we discovered that Maria has memorized James and the Giant Peach. She listened to the book on CD three or four times, and that was all it took.

Dahl inspired some of her art at school. This is Mr. Twit, with his hairy face and his bucket of sticky glue, the Roly Poly bird, the monkeys, and the dead tree.

This is Mrs. Twit, with her bucket of worms and her wormy spaghetti on the table.

We got our second radiator cover.

We went to Wisconsin twice in one weekend.

The first time was to celebrate the wedding of my aunt and uncle by tubing down the Apple River. But we had to hurry home for the U2 concert:

The next day we traveled even further into Cheesehead territory to see DT's childhood friend, PittBoss, who is at Fort McCoy. PittBoss showed us some fun old Army vehicles:

And in return, we showed him underdogs on the swingset (and Wisconsin cheese).

On the way back from Fort McCoy, we were singing songs. And then David saw some tanker trucks. So, we started using "tanker trucks" as the lyrics to tunes like: Dona Nobis Pacem; Lollipop, Lollipop; and Twinkle, Twinkle. And then Maria made up her own song about diggers and dirt. Good times, people. Good times!

David Dances!

2011-07-19T12:42:00.001-05:00

The title is a total tease. Because while David did attend his first session of Creative Movement with Miss Amy, I have no video of his "recital." I just have these photos from my Iphone. In the first, he is taking his turn jumping off the high mat onto the low one (pretending it's a pool full of mud), and in the second he is just about to take his last bow of the session.

But I can tell you that he came a long way in the course of the eight weeks of our parent-child class. The first week he would not do anything but clutch my leg (or worse, watch me as I demonstrated embarassing things like log-rolling across a mat). But slowly he started participating more and more, and by the end he was chasse-ing across the floor and grand jete-ing over a slinky. And he had the teacher and all the little girls and their moms wrapped around his finger.

Maria also showed a lot of improvement in her June recital. The group number is to a fast song, where there is both freestyling by the dancers and structured show-off moments ("show me an arabesque!"). Maria shows lots of rhythym and lots of unique dance moves -- most of which involve three or more limbs touching the floor, and at least one of which resembles break-dancing. You can see cameos by David, Aunt Marian, yours truly, and Audrey's mom's elbow in the last minute of this video. (Audrey's mom and I made a deal -- I brought Maria to see Audrey's piano recital to encourage Audrey, and she brought Audrey to Maria's dance recital to encourage Maria -- the girls loved the exchange.)

Her solo was also much improved -- check out the bird-like starting position, her variety of movement, her "spine work", and how she uses just about the whole stage to show off big arm movements and turns. (Compare with two sessions ago, (last two minutes), when her solo consisted largely of her running in circles around the stage with her tongue wagging.) Which means I am not laughing hysterically in this video.

Vineyard Vacation

2011-07-12T22:29:00.060-05:00

When DT and I first started dating, we would play a game where at the end of a day we would turn to the other and say "what did you learn about me today?" It was a fun way of focusing on our developing relationship, showing we were listening to each other, and seeing ourselves reflected back through a new love. We quit after we knew each other pretty darn well and the game was just too challenging (and narcissistic). But, I was reminded of that game during our family vacation in June (a trip to see a close college friend's wedding on Martha's Vineyard, with a two day stop-over in Boston). Spending 24 hours a day with my children caused me to learn all sorts of things about them that just never seem to come up in the usual whoppsy hustle buggle* of our regular lives.

*In case you couldn't tell, we are on our second read through of The BFG!

For example, David has a best friend! He started talking about someone in his class for the first time, a boy named Henri. He's fickle, though. When he got to play with 6-year-old Sam for a few days on Martha's Vineyard he declared: "Sam is my best friend." This is Sam with David. On a rock, see below. With a vehicle, see below.

(Why does he love that expression? So many photos of David have him with that serious, half-frown. Like this and and this (first photo only) from August and March 2009). So many photos also have David in PJs, but we know why that is.)

Also, climbing is the new jumping for David. Last summer I remember Davy was constantly working on getting two feet off the ground at once.* This year, it's all about figuring out what he can climb (and then jump off). Large rocks on the grounds of the Inn? Check. Up on to the hammock? Check. Up the side of his changing table? Check.

*I was sure that I had posted a blog with these pictures on it, but alas - it's only a draft! Turns out we have a couple of unposted drafts from last summer! It's like something that we can include in the DVD box set.

David also has returned to his vehicle obsession. Last year, when we were driving up to Canada and back, David would comment on every truck or bus that passed. I thought that phase had given way to balls, but then our city started doing a bunch of utility work in our neighborhood, so now it's all about construction vehicles again. While in Boston, we took the kids to the Boston Children's museum, where there were two actual Bobcats for the children to sit in at the Big DIg exhibit. David sat in one for as long as we would let him, scowling at any other children that tried to move him along, and had to be forcibly removed after even the promise of candy would not get him out. A total attraction hog.

He hasn't forgotten that Bobcat either. The day after the museum, when we first arrived on Martha's Vineyard and were welcomed by the bride-to-be, David greeted her by saying: "Are there Bobcats on Martha's Vineyard?" (But he says "bobcabs," so she had no idea what the poor guy was talking about.) Even now, when we mention the word museum (Maria recently had a field trip to the Minnesota Children's Museum), he will ask if he can sit in a Bobcab there.

Speaking of cabs, Davy gets a little confused about taxis. When his teachers asked him about his vacation, he told them he got to ride in two police cars.* I had to clarify that he meant taxis. Here he is (with that same expression) riding a (water) taxi of sorts - one of the swan boats in the Public Garden:

**Sometimes, though, he really does mean police cars. Before our vacation, we were all in the car together, and I told DT that he was driving too fast. DT told me, in (mostly) child-appropriate language, to stuff it. David started piping up from the backseat, but was too excited and concerned to get a full sentence together. He ended up stammering out something like: "The police man...Police-... Police man stop daddy. Daddy car...Daddy car...Police man, too fast." I whipped my head over to DT and said "WHAT?" DT obviously felt the stare and had to fess up. And by fess up, I mean he muttered, "I can't believe he ratted me out like that."

On our trip we also saw first hand just how much David is learning about language. David now recognizes the letters D ("D for David!") and T ("T for kitty cat!"). One he doesn't know is "S for Squirrel," although he and Squirrel had themselves quite the stand off.

And, don't tell Maria, but we learned David can calmly sleep all night in the same bed with us if he needs to. He is a very sweet snuggler. As with all travel with young children, the sleeping arrangements can be a big deal. In our Boston suite, we put David in a pack and play and stuck him in kind of a closet, his vision obscured from the two beds. After Maria was put in her bed, DT and I had the evenings to ourselves...in the hallway by the bathroom where we could only communicate in hushed tones as we tried to figure out the next day's schedule. We adapted pretty well to this, thanks to our surprising inherent abilities to pantomime and to "Play and Pass" Scramble on my i-phone. Once on the MV we had a two-room cottage to ourselves and had Maria sleep with us in the king size bed for the first night, with David in a pack and play in the other room. Somehow David realized this and the next night when we decided that our sleep-thrashing daughter needed her own bed (for all of our sakes) he insisted on sleeping in the bed just like Maria got to do. Thankfully, he is a natural at snuggle-sleeping.

Climbing rocks with Dad at the beach - a highlight for David!

Long, solitary walks with Dad at the beach - a highlight for Maria!

We also learned new things about Maria. For example, she surprised me by declaring that pink is her new favorite color. She ditched many years of purpledom and is now switching to the pink side. I don't know yet whether that will truly stick, purple has been quite the color dynasty in our house. One thing that hasn't changed is that she still loves everything fancy, which meant she was enthralled by our hotel in Boston:

Playing Uno with Mom in the fancy hotel! Like a princess!

She also completely surprised me by enthusiastically trying mussels and then slurping up about a dozen right from the shell and proclaiming "I LOVE MUSSELS!" This is my girl who won't eat potatoes or tomatoes! I think it had to do with the fact that she was having so much fun collecting shells on the ocean and naming the type of sea animal who belonged to the shell, that the excitement of trying the real thing overcame her normal hesitance to try new food. (Since we've been home, she has also tried and loved beets, so maybe we are entering a new food era.)

Fascinated by nature: Holding two little crabs that we uncovered in the

sand (click the pic to get a closer view).

She continues to be very brave. She ran straight at sea gulls, let a duck eat out of her hand, and was fearless in the ocean. She also would start up conversations with strangers near her in airplanes and elevators. "I'm Maria. That's my brother, David!" Her bravery really borders on foolish fearlessness at times, so we are working on good "impulse control" and getting her to "think it through first."

Fearless on the wooded path down to the beach!

Something that fits in both the category of "fancy" and the category of "willing to try new things" is her henna tattoo. Maria was completely entranced and sat still for 20 minutes carefully watching the artist paint her hand. She even was able to keep her hand still for another hour while it dried. She was thrilled with the result (and lobbied me to get the same design):

Like David, who shunned boys his own age in favor of a boy three years older, Maria was more interested in 8-year-old Ayla than any of the other 4 and 5 year old girls at the wedding. She spent the entire time with her. Seeing Maria and David bond with the children of my college friends was wonderful. I can't believe that it's been almost 19 years since we all met at Mount Holyoke. The wedding was beautiful, as was the bride. Here are Maria and Ayla with the main attraction: the beautiful bride herself:

During the vacation I also noticed that Maria now has freckles on her face. She has a few on her nose and a whole constellation near the outside of her right eye. Hope that's not a result of any failure on our part to put on sufficient sun screen...but it's cute.

Maria did not bring up Noah J. (you know, Mr. Nuts Nuts Nuts) even ONCE over the whole week. Dare I dream that she could be over that six-month long crush?? On the other hand, she brought up her best friend Audrey almost every day, declaring dramatically that "I just miss her so much I might cry!"

We learned that Maria's favorite phrases are "booty-butt" and "what the heck." And when she was having fun on the beach she would shout "Best. Day. Ever!" At first I thought it was an organic expression of excitement, but DT reminded me it is a quote from "Tangled", Maria's current favorite movie (one we wisely downloaded to my i-phone the night before the trip).

Both kids on the wooden path down to the beach.

As for me and DT, I learned that after almost twelve years together we can still be unpredictable and fun. In the face of sudden torrential rain, DT didn't think twice, getting us four hideous clear ponchos that marked us as tourists for all to see, but kept us dry. Dressed like this, we took to the streets, and a completely packed subway (during rush hour). You would think that the natives would give us some slack, but no such luck, we missed the first train because it was so packed that we could not all fit. And we would have missed a second if I hadn't bullied our way through, shouting "MOVE!" to my family, and to the commuting Bostonians.

The whole family, shrink-wrapped and ready for adventure!

So, put it altogether and we may have learned the perfect recipe for a fun family vacation: a few days in a big city + more days on the beach + great fancy friends and a significant new experience (Hindu wedding!) = great, unforgetable fun.

What a May, What a May, What a Mighty Fine May

2011-07-06T08:28:00.000-05:00

You know it's a good summer when life has been so exciting that you didn't have time to blog about it!

Anyway, here are some highlights from the end of May.

First, Maria graduated from preschool! (But, unlike every graduation you ever had in your life, she's still attending preschool until September.) The last minute of the video is the most entertaining.

Here is the requisite proof of her graduation, signed by her teachers:

And here is the picture Maria drew for the graduation program:

Just a few days after graduation, we had the pleasure of a visit from Cousint Chiara and her mother over Memorial Day. I already posted some of these photos on Facebook, but here they are in case you missed them.

It was a super fun visit, in which Janine and Chiara taught us how to make playdough from flour (how Berkeley!) and we taught them how to make flour from wheat. (Okay, we didn't teach that. But we did take them to the Mill City Museum.)

My Bedtime Trademark

2011-07-01T14:05:00.001-05:00

I have invented only one thing as a parent. Everything else I have just adopted from friends or books or websites. But this particular item I created out of whole cloth a year ago. [Probably not whole cloth. Maybe I read something long ago that planted seeds of this invention, a la "Inception". But I don't recall it.] And since we have been putting my idea into use ever since, it is time for me to share my invention with the rest of the world.

Last Spring we started having a terrible time putting Maria to bed. Actually, the problem was that Maria was having a terrible time getting to sleep. She may have inherited her father's insomnia, or she just couldn't find the "off" switch for her crazy bean, but either way it was bad. You may recall this post about it. As a result, she was a four year old with bags under her eyes.

Convinced that the problem was Maria not knowing how to help herself calm down, I invented the Two Minute Drill. (Feels like I should have a little copyright or trademark sign after that title...) It is the last piece of the bedtime routine -- post-pajamas, post-teeth-brushing, post-reading, post-attendance-taking for any special blankets and animals -- and involves these steps:

-First, ten deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, while my fingers keep track of how many have been done. (Though, in all honestly, many nights we skip this step.)

-Second, Maria finds a comfortable sleeping position. Under the covers. I try and help her make sure this is not a process of bouncing on the bed until one falls into a comfortable position, or thrashing her head back and forth until it finds the cold spot on the pillow, but something more akin to when DT stops the DVR in SYTYCD and then pushes it forward one frame at a time just to see exactly how that dancer got from one position to the next.

-Finally, with me laying next to her with a hand on her back or hand, we say a chant: "No Moving. No Talking. Starting Now." I always use the same voice, the same speed, and the same intonation. When we started, I said the whole chant myself. Then we said it together. Now we make a pattern, with me saying every other word and Maria filling in the rest. After the chant, we stay still for two minutes (I actually do count in my head up to 120). Then I kiss her and leave the room. If she moves significantly during those two minutes, we start the two minutes again. Sometimes she actually falls asleep before I count to 120, but more often she just gets zoned out enough that she can fall asleep by herself after I leave the room.

Happy One Year Anniversary to our Two Minute Drill! It made a big difference in our bedtime routine (as did our sticker chart, rewarding Maria for staying in bed after 8:30, and entitling her to a movie after ten stickers), which then made a world of difference in allowing DT and I to enjoy a bit of peace in the evenings!

Happy Fourth of July!!

First Class

2011-06-13T13:54:00.000-05:00

Look at how much the kids have grown in the past six months!

David is about 1.5 inches taller than in December, and Maria is a full inch taller. No wonder they outgrew all their clothes!

David's extra height made him tall enough to ride Maria's bicycle. But she didn't want to share her bike, so David got his first two-wheeler (plus training wheels):

But sometimes pedaling is hard and we end up coasting (see below), or just walking it home.

We've had a host of "firsts" lately.

For example, Maria danced on the tables at a bar for the first time. Okay, not quite. She danced on the benches on the outdoor patio of a restaurant (with a bar). But it was quite a scene. I only captured about the last two seconds on my iphone:

You have to imagine the first part. How we were all sitting on the outdoor patio of a classy restaurant, with people all around. How the fun music came on and she started dancing in her chair. How she spontaneously hopped up onto the benches, with her Christmas dress and cowgirl boots, despite it being June 9, and danced around the benches with verve repeatedly while almost everyone in the patio watched. It was pretty awesome actually. And I have no idea where she got the idea to point a finger of each hand in the air like a disco queen.

What was David doing during her "girls gone wild" moment? (He's not the child crying in the background.) Dipping a Tootsie Roll into a ramekin of softened butter and eating it. I could hardly watch.

David saw his first movie in a theater. We went as a family last weekend to see "Rio". (Chosen in part because there was no other G movie available, and in part because it involves characters from Minnesota. It was cute.) David sat still for the entire two hours. How is that possible for a child who cannot even sit still for ten minutes of TV? A super-size tub of popcorn, that's how.

(Doesn't he look BIG? A haircut and a buttoned up shirt really gives him a whole different look.)

Maria also claims to have succeeded in winning over Noah's heart. She told DT and I that last week he "finally said 'I love you' to me." I asked her how exactly that came up in conversation... she said they were both in the science area when she took the opportunity to remind Noah that they were going to get married. She claims he responded with "i love you." I feel like that can't be the whole story, since "i love you" is not a natural segueway from the science area and wedding talk. But it is certainly better than his January response of "NUTS NUTS NUTS." And it is probably the first time a boy (who is not related to her) professed his love to Maria.

Maria also had her first graduation at the end of May, but we're not ready with that video yet.

We do, however, have a photo of our first radiator cover! Maria immediately puts dibs on it as her new throne.

And, finally, today was David's first soccer lesson! His teacher was kind enough to send me photos right away. Looks like he had fun!

The Funny Papers

2011-06-01T10:10:00.001-05:00

If I were talented enough to put these little conversations in the form of multiple comic strips, I would...

[Fighting with David to get him out of his pajamas]
MT: "Your nap is over, David."
David: "No, it's UNDER. Not over."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[On a mother-daughter errand run]
Maria: "When I get older, I am going to work in your office, Mom. We can play together all day. And have lunch. And I can buy everything I want."

[Right. Exactly. Everyone I have lunch with comes dressed in a princess costume. Another funny, related to this photo, is that over the weekend Maria started stuffing things down the front of this Snow White dress to create her own breasts. Out of bead necklaces no less.]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Trying to convince David to come back to the dinner table, while he is stubbornly sitting on his new bike]
David: "I NEED TIME"
MT: "For what, David?"
David: "For VROOM"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Continuation of Maria's never-ending lobbying for a cat]
Maria: Why can't we have a cat?
DT: Because we are never home, so the cat will scratch up all the furniture
Maria: I will use the money in my piggy bank to buy new furniture!*

Maria also brought this piece of visual lobbying home from school. Here's the front of the picture:

And here's the back:

If you can't read it, Maria's proposed cat names are: Jade, Sparkle, Jewel, Rainbow and Heart.

*For the first time I can remember, Maria used her own money to buy something. She dumped her whole purse and all the tooth fairy money in it onto the counter in Walgreens to purchase a replacement Ariel doll.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[After I put David down for bed in his crib]
David: "You can rub my back if you want, Mommy"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
DT: "What is your full name, David?"
David: "Davy Crockett Airplane"

Butterfly Kisses

2011-05-21T14:27:00.003-05:00

Maria's first "pets" were butterflies, thanks to a birthday present from Nonna. It was a mesh butterfly home, with a coupon to send away for catepillars when the weather got nicer. Five caterpillars arrived on April 16th. These photos show their metamorphoses over the month!

Day One

Day Three

Day Six
You can really tell how quickly they are growing here.

Day Eight

Day Nine
Here you see four big, fat caterpillars, and one that is still small (on the back wall of the cup). We began calling him The Runt, and he made the whole process much more interesting.

Day Eleven
On schedule, the four big fat caterpillars started hanging upside down, with their heads curling up. But The Runt was not ready.

Day Twelve
Within 24 hours, the Gang of Four were now pupae, and The Runt was still a caterpillar. This posed a problem, because we were supposed to move the pupae into the mesh house 2-3 days after they had become pupae. It also couldn't be done later than 6 days after they became pupae, because that's the earliest date they could emerge as butterflies. So, we kept waiting for The Runt to get with the program...

Day Twenty Two
As you can see here, we eventually had to move the Gang of Four without the Runt. They moved over to the mesh house six days after making their cocoons, and The Runt took his own sweet time and joined them a week later.

Day Twenty Three
Luckily for us, the Gang of Four emerged on a Sunday when we were all home and could see it happening. However, Maria did not want to release them outside until the Runt had "hatched." We waited and waited...

Day Twenty Eight
And finally, the Runt emerged! And we could release all five painted ladies to the outdoors where they belonged. At first, they just stayed in their mesh house...

Then DT helped them onto Maria's arm.

Even David summoned the courage to have a butterfly on him!

Finally, we put them onto flowers and hoped they find their way in the big world.

Sparky

2011-05-10T14:57:00.004-05:00

"A MESSAGE To Children Who Have Read This Book:
When you grow up and have children of your own
do please remember something important
a stodgy parent is no fun at all
What a child wants and deserves
is a parent who is
SPARKY"

With that message, Roald Dahl ends his book "Danny the Champion of the World." (The eleventh book we have read Maria out of her Roald Dahl collection.) The message -- though on its face intended for Maria and not me -- has made me ask this question: Am I stodgy??!

The whole stodgy v. sparky issue reminds me of a particularly emotional scene in "The Story of Us," which happens to be the first movie DT and I saw together. (One in which I showed my true colors by bawling and DT showed his true colors by peeing three times during the show.) Anyhow, the emotional scene is one where the wife (and mother) is complaining that the husband has taken on the role of the "fun" parent, and makes the wife enforce the rules. She was the one to make the children go to bed, eat their broccoli, do their homework, etc. And he was the one who spontaneously took everyone to Dairy Queen or let the kids stay up late when Mom was not around. It gets emotional because the wife worries she has a worse relationship with the children as a result (and, if I remember right, the parents are getting divorced after not presenting a united front for years).

In our house, DT definitely helps enforce the rules. But, he is also more fun than I am. He comes up with more ways to make the kids laugh than I do, has more funny voices, and always knows the right moment to just throw a child up into the air or hold them upside down. Which may be why the Dahl quote stuck with me.

But, I make fun in my own (very planned!) ways, I will have you know, Mr. Dahl. As I recent example, I threw a "Royal Tea Party" for Maria's friends (and a couple of David's friends) to have a tea party, dress up, and watch the Royal Wedding. It was lots of fun, and everyone got into the spirit of the affair by wearing fun headpieces (Maria and I made hers out of a placemat) and fancy clothes (except David who stayed in his pajamas), drinking tea, and eating scones.

Here they are crowded in front of the TV:

Here they are posing near the fabulous (non-dairy) mini-wedding cake that Audrey's mom made:

Here, eating the cake at the table

See, look how Sparky I can be!

Girl, Interrupted

2011-04-20T13:58:00.001-05:00

Earlier this month, we were all at the dinner table, and DT was giving an exposition on parts of speech. Not randomly -- he doesn't just come up with instructional topics to thrill the children with each night. This soliloquoy was spurred by Maria trying to explain *why* her favorite riddle is funny (what's black and white and read all over? newspapers!) (and we know it is always successful to explain why things are funny!). She was struggling to explain the difference between "read" and "red," so DT was methodically explaining to Maria how read is a verb and red is an adjective, which involves first explaining that different words have different jobs in a sentence, and all of a sudden it's very complicated and poor Maria is glazing over. I was watching them both with amusement when all of a sudden, David piped up sweetly with "Can you talk to me now, daddy?"

We were all astounded and silenced. I was proud of him for finding a way to interject, but also sad that I had not even noticed that the three of us were excluding him from the conversation. Not only was the level of the conversation above where David could participate, but our gazes were even directed away from him. (I was looking at DT and Maria, Maria was looking only at DT, and DT was looking at Maria.) It still pains me to think about it. How many times in the last two years has David felt that way and not had the language to interrupt?! I immediately vowed to be more conscious of making sure he is included in group conversations. Of course, he now gets the hang of it himself and will even chant "TALK TO ME. TALK TO ME." if he thinks Maria is hogging all the parental attention.

It's really not just about conversations, though; Maria hogs our focus in lots of ways. When we ask "What should we do this afternoon?" on a Saturday, Maria knows what the options are and answers quickly and loudly, before David knows what happened. In another example, I wanted to blog about this story last week, but it got trumped by Chocolate Girl. And David's video of basketball prowess still hasn't seen the light of the Internet, while Maria's recital has been viewed by... a handful (dozens would be an exaggeration, I'm not even sure I can say a dozen).

But, there are plenty of fun things to record about David at 2.6 years! For one, he loves pajamas. David's ideal outfit would be: his cowboy boots; his dinosaur pajamas with a football jersey on top; and either his construction hat or his cowboy hat. Here he is showing off his snowman pajamas and construction hat:

Every weekday morning we have to either bribe him to change out of his pajamas or physically force him into something else. DT has mastered a wrestling hold that keeps David from running away but still allows DT to pull a shirt over David's head. Monday morning I heard this conversation between him and DT: "You can only wear pajamas in bed David." David: "[Pause] I want to sleep, Daddy."

David has adult taste buds. He loves salsa on his tortilla chips and hummus on his carrots and all the sausage his stomach can handle. He also loved the sips of beer he has stolen. And he would do anything for a latte. Just yesterday he found a coffee mug on my dresser and saw it had dried up remnants of the previous day's latte. He spat out the gum he had lobbied for in a jiffy and tried desperately to drink up those evaporated coffee drops. This tells me he has adult taste buds, but not DT's "Super Taster" adult taste buds (note the "specific food sensitivities" section)

David also watches Maria like a tiger, ready to pounce at any instance of injustice. Did she get a different size portion of spaghetti? "I want some like Maria!" Did she get to take a bath? "I want to take a bath like Maria!" Did she get her nails painted? "I want my nails painted like Maria!" He still hasn't gotten over the fact that Maria got a whole extra trip to Texas and Grandparent Camp. Yesterday morning he dragged all his essentials to the hallway (bumper, pacifier, football) and declared "I am going on airplane to Texas. With Nonna." When I reminded him that he needs to be older he said "AFTER, I'm going AFTER." He just wants it to even up eventually.

David also learned about praying at meals when we were on vacation. [Despite our best intentions, we have not implemented that habit at our house.] He loved the concept and started to call for "Hold hands" at all stages of a meal. Some meals have been six-prayer thank-fests. He quickly grabs the hands of people sitting on either side of him and then looks around the table to see who will say what. So far he refuses to say anything he's thankful for, but he is very good at closing the prayer with "amen."

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's ...

2011-04-14T15:08:00.000-05:00

CHOCOLATE GIRL!

We get serious family homework a few times a year from Maria's class. Things like designing a casing for an egg so that it doesn't break when thrown off the roof of the building or making a 3-D model of an animal that lives in the water. This week the task was to create your own superhero and dress as that character. It's part of Hero Month in Maria's class. (Stop for a second and think about how amusing your workplace would be if there were a mandated superhero day ...)

We brainstormed a lot of possible ideas, but settled on Chocolate Girl. While I came up with the name, Maria came up with all the details. For example, Maria said Chocolate Girl can turn "villains" into solid chocolate by squirting liquid chocolate at them from the palms of her hands. And then she can either eat the villains herself, or give the chocolate villains to other children. Chocolate Girl can fly, of course, so she needs the cape. (And Chocolate Girl loves fashion, so she needs her red boots and sparkly mask.)

How did she get her powers? By eating too much chocolate from her Advent calendar at Christmas time, of course!

I tried to get her to come up with a theme song for Chocolate Girl, but she was all out of creative juices.

She was a big hit at daycare, and it was great fun seeing what the other families came up with. DT gets credit for making the mask and the matching emblems on her leotard and cape -- it was a long night. :) Maria decided to keep the fun going for and wore the dazzle glasses mask for a second straight day. Chocolate Kazaam!

Play Dates

2011-04-05T21:14:00.000-05:00

First, a post script to the March Milestones post: David pooped in the potty for the first time! Yippee for him and us. And another March Milestone: I broke my first bone! Not sure an exclamation point is as appropriate on that one, but so be it. It was so very un-glamorous too. One minute we are on vacation in sunny Texas, walking down a sidewalk toward a lovely church, and the next I am face down on the concrete, having tripped on a crack, crying with embarassment and pain. Who knows when the public shaming ends, either. I have to wear a gray Storm-Trooper-like immobilizing boot on my left foot for six to eight weeks, and if my stupid fractured foot still hasn't healed, it's surgery and another cast/boot contraption, I'm sure.

Fractured foot aside, we had a wonderful week-long vacation with DT's parents in Texas. In contrast to our cold and snowy weather at home, we enjoyed sunshine and temps between 80 and 85. It was a wide-brim-hat-and-sunglasses kind of vacation, and I even got to read an entire book on the trip (my book club's December selection -- I'm behind). Hard to beat that.

For DT, though, it was a long-awaited exercise in gastrotourism. He hadn't been to his hometown in about two years (although we had seen his family in other cities in the interim), and all of a sudden the restaurants of his youth were calling to him. He started dreaming about steak at one restaurant and greasy tacos at another. He began insisting that no one does chili cheese dogs (of all things to take a stance about) like a particular chain he used to visit with his dad. And so, for DT, the vacation was full of restaurants. But since he could not fit in all the cheap eats he wanted in just six days of dinners out, he often snuck out on the pretense of a mid-afternoon errand ("I need to go to Walgreens. Again.") and grabbed lunch on the sly at one or more of his fabled food spots. I am confident this spared me and the kids many bouts of indigestion and intestinal drama. How DT's stomach survived the trip is a mystery.

After the family trip, Maria stayed in Texas with DT's parents for ten days. Yes, ten days and yes, she is only five and no, she did not cry for us once. Why would she cry? She was at Grandparent Camp! She walked dogs, petted cats, squawked at pet birds (remember, we have no pets), planted vegetables and flowers, got new shoes, learned new games, went swimming at the pool, wore her crown every day, and even took a trip to Carlsbad Caverns and stayed in a hotel.

And David got a glimpse of what his life would have been like as an only child for ten days. He got to dictate all waking activities, which meant we spent our time playing basketball and riding his tricycle (in his new tractor raincoat and blue rainboots). We ate at a Chinese restaurant during that time and David's fortune cookie appropriately said "You are coming into your own power – enjoy!"

At the end of Grandparent Camp 2011, DT's mom flew back to Minnesota with Maria and is now staying with us for seven days. (In a bed with a pink polka-dotted canopy!) Before she could even unpack her suitcase, DT and I were off to a hotel for an overnight and wishing her luck with the babes. We haven't done that for about a year and a half and were longing to sleep in and have a spontaneous, non-children-mandated agenda. Much of that didn't happen of course. . . DT woke up at 6:45 a.m. in the hotel, on his regular rhythym, and there were no tables open for "spontaneous" restaurant seating, but there was still the bliss of not worrying about what time to relieve the babysitter and of reading two entire Sunday papers (from different cities) over lattes and brunch for about 90 minutes in the hotel restaurant.

For her part, Maria was very skeptical about the whole thing. While we were gone she asked DT's mom why we needed a "play date." And when we returned she asked me: "Mom, why did you and Daddy have to celebrate his birthday ALL NIGHT LONG?" To which there really is no good answer...

March Milestones

2011-03-11T21:47:00.000-06:00

David can pull up his own pants! (Sorry, no visual available for that one.)

Maria lost two more teeth in the last two weeks! (The ones on either side of the middle bottom teeth, which she lost in August.)

David can hop, and is working on skipping! (He is also perfecting his basketball skills, but that video will wait for March Madness.)

Maria can do a dance solo that makes her mom (and Grandma) laugh hysterically!

Now, here's a puzzler for you all. Maria was cutting inappropriate things again this week at day care (first her hair, then her cotton pants -- in the place a zipper would otherwise go). What could this be about? I asked her lots of questions about what was happening during the pant-cutting episode and found out: she was in the art area, she was alone, she had just been leading some friends in drawing barns and they all left to put the drawings in their cubbies, and she was happy. . . None of this helps my brain put together any kind of cause and effect analysis. Feel free to email or comment if you have ideas! I know it's not a big deal, but I don't want it to happen in kindergarten.

A Six-Crown Birthday

2011-02-18T12:46:00.001-06:00

Maria's birthday festivities began on Jan. 27, with a little celebration at day care. We brought cupcakes for her class, and her teachers made her a crown (shown below on the right) to wear all day. BFF Audrey took the photos of Maria and her teachers put them all over the crown. (Isn't that a fun idea?!)

On her birthday itself, the 28th, I took the day off of work and spent the day with Maria. She wore her new, sparkly "5" shirt and gave me a sassy pose before we went out for chocolate muffins.

After muffins and some do-nothing time, we headed out to see "Tangled" (the Rapunzel movie). Maria wore her Rapunzel costume, including the tiara shown below, to the movie and got lots of comments. (She even turned down an offer of popcorn out of concern that it would get her Rapunzel dress dirty.) We both *loved* the movie. Then it was time for dinner and cake with Grandma Holley and Aunt Elena.

The evening included an art activity: making crowns. Maria is showing off her crown below, as well as a new outfit.

Two days later she had a party at Nana and Baba's house. (I have no photos to show of that one, but I am pretty sure it did not involve a different crown than you have seen already.)

Then, on February 5 was the long-awaited kid party. The activity I chose for the event, before I knew it would be the fourth time she did it in a week, was making birthday crowns. Here are some of the girls, calmly making designs on the paper that would become their crowns:

Here is an example of how Maria's crush was acting during the crown-making activity, as he demanded red crayons for drawing blood and flames:

Can't you just see him shaking his head and saying "NUTS NUTS NUTS" as Maria proposes marriage??!

David got to join the crew for cupcake time, and was pretty excited to sit with the big boys.

Here are the super fancy cupcakes that Maria picked out -- triple chocolate, with purple frosting and bows. (On plates with crowns, of course.)

Here she is, blowing out her candles and enjoying all the attention:

Now, here's the whole birthday group (5 girls and 4 boys -- but one did not want to be in the photo), showing off their hand-made crowns, and their birthday power!

A smaller group, mostly sans fists:

And, here is Maria showing one of her favorite gifts -- a jeweled crown that she got to "make" by putting 250 stickers on:

For those of you keeping track, Crown #6, pictured at the top with crown #1, came on Sunday, February 6th at Sunday School. What festivities!

Life Is Beautiful

2011-02-14T08:25:00.000-06:00

The next post will be a photo montage of Maria's birthday, but I can't resist a short Valentine's post today with two heartwarming stories.

David's favorite song is "You are my sunshine." We made a CD of lullabies for him to help him fall asleep, and he always wants to start with "sunshine song." (And often, to repeat the song four or five times...) Lately, he started singing it to himself during the day. He usually sings "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are great." I love that in his mind, the skies are great instead of gray.

Last Thursday we were all at a restaurant, celebrating DT's trial victory, when Maria asked me "what did you do today at work, Momma?" "I worked on a brief," I told her. Naturally, she asked "what's a brief?" I go with a simple answer "it's your argument, written on paper." But DT offers an example, "You say 'Judge, here are the three reasons I should win: 1)... 2)...3)... ." Maria loves the concept and exclaims "I want to write a brief." So, on the back of her children's menu at the restaurant she writes:
1) WORLD
2) IS
3) BEAUTIFUL

What judge could deny that motion?! [Disclaimer: she did ask us how to spell "world" and "beautiful." But the idea is all hers.]

Both stories may have resonated more loudly with me than usual since between the last post and now, my mother both was diagnosed with cancer and then cured of it through the miracle of modern medicine (and surgery). Reminds me of the lyrics of Rufus Wainwright's "Oh What a World" song:

Wouldn't it be a lovely headline:
"Life is Beautiful" on The New York Times

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Birthday Club

2011-01-24T08:25:00.001-06:00

Maria turns five on Friday. For her, this is the most exciting thing to happen yet in her life. Last night she asked me “I wonder what it will feel like when I am five??”. For us, aspects of it will be great, thanks to changes we have announced. As she sang this morning in the bathroom “One more week until I have to wipe my own poop and soap my own butt crack…”

Truly, she has been planning for this birthday since the day after we celebrated her fourth. That’s how they roll in the “Preschool 2” class at her daycare. A birthday party invitation is the club they hold over one another’s head to control behavior. It’s their one chance out of the year to exert some control over who they play with and punish any children who did them wrong over the past year. I cannot tell you how many evenings Maria has told me stories involving tears, refusals to be the lesser character in a princess story, and the words “she said she’s not inviting me to her birthday party” even in cases where I knew that child did not have a birthday for at least nine months. The reverse is also true – if a new child starts at school and Maria has a fun afternoon playing with him, Maria will make sure to tell him (and me) “You’re invited to my birthday party!”

The core group of invitees has been clear since at least the summer, however. Maria started drawing what DT calls a “Masonic symbol,” involving five letters, evenly spaced and connected by dashes to make a cross of sorts, on the back of all her artwork. When we asked her about it, she said it represented “the Loving Group,” her own gang of five best pals, and the letters were the first letters of their names. It includes BFF Audrey (naturally), and others who I won’t name but we can just call Snow White, Snow Fairy, and the Chipmunk (after their favorite characters).

Then in November or December, DT went to pick up Maria from school. She was giving hugs to all her friends, and when she hugged one of the boys, he picked her clear off the ground in a bear hug. She was impressed. So impressed that she spoke of nothing but that all evening, and her logical wheels started spinning quickly. “Noah J. can pick me up! He is strong. Husbands are supposed to pick up their wives when they get married. . . . I am going to marry Noah J.!” Once she latched onto that idea, there was nothing we could do to shake it.

Interestingly, before the hug episode, I had never heard anything about Noah J., so I did some sleuthing. I asked her teachers to point him out. He is the tallest kid in her class, but otherwise pretty average. (Not nearly as cute as her first crush, Eli, who is now in kindergarten.) Maria reports he is very funny, though, and entertains everyone when they are in line for the potty. Her teachers were surprised that Maria had talked about Noah J. at home because, according to Miss Sheila, the two of them have never interacted at school. As Sheila said “Maria plays in the art area or dress up and Noah never leaves the blocks and trains.”

Hmmm, well that’s not how Maria tells it. Just this weekend we had some girl time, and Maria was complaining that “Noah doesn’t like me as much as I like him.” How does she know? “Every time I talk to him he just says ‘Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!’ and covers up his face, or sometimes he doesn’t listen to me and says ‘blah blah blah.’” Upon further questioning, it turns out Maria had announced to Noah that he was “the most handsome in the class” and her “boyfriend.” I explained to her that she might have scared him off a little bit with that…and suggested she talk to him about things like superheroes or trains, instead of handsomeness and marriage. I also gave her a bit of motherly advice: boys won’t like girls until they are teenagers.

Anyhow, I started planning for Maria’s birthday after New Years.* I called her first choice for party locale and discovered it was even more expensive than the site we used last year (and I am determined to spend less), so I quickly moved to Plan B. The Plan B location is smaller, so I told Maria she could invite ten friends. At first she didn’t realize that the moment for wielding her Birthday Club had arrived, and she responded “I don’t care, Mom, you choose.” Quickly, however, she changed her tune. She started with the sure things: we have to invite the Loving Group. No disputes there. I also reminded her about some family friends we have invited in years past, and she agreed they should come. We were now at seven invitees. Then she brought up Noah J.. Okay, I said, we can invite Noah J., but maybe he’d feel more comfortable if we invite some other boys from your class too. Then she started rattling off boys names: Zander, Ethan, Willi, Evan… Yikes. I had visions of male mayhem wreaking havoc at our proper little girl party. I reminded her she could only pick two. Okay, Zander and Ethan made the cut.

* Since I mentioned it in the last post, I have to tell you about Maria’s main gift from DT and me. We are giving her some boring things (sheets and socks), but one pretty cool thing: a 52-page photo book, which I created by sifting through thousands of jpegs and selecting only the best to represent her first five years. Up until now, Maria has no real “baby book” other than this blog.

I spent a few days tracking down e-mails for the parents of the boys (since, unlike the other invitees, we have never seen them outside of school and since, unlike other parents, I refuse to handwrite invitations) and sent the invitation on January 11 for a party on January 29. The first response I got was from Snow Fairy’s mother, saying Snow Fairy’s party was already scheduled for the exact same time on January 29th so Snow Fairy could not attend. “We were about to invite Maria,” she said.

Sure enough, I got an Evite a few minutes later, on which I could clearly see that Snow Fairy had sent her invitation to about 25 guests over a week before and had not invited Maria. (Her party is at an ice skating rink, where all the guests are encouraged to dress as Snow Fairies. I am sending DT. Hah.) I was mad as a hornet. How could she possibly not invite my lovely daughter?! They are two of only five members of The Loving Group!! They have been at the same birthday parties for the past few months!! And, I just spent hours planning this darn party that none of Maria’s best friends are now available for!!

After a beer, I collected my thoughts and rescheduled the party. It is now the following Saturday. Snow Fairy still cannot attend (she has two other parties the same day – she must belong to a community of major advance planners), but everyone else can. Also, Maria has no idea that she was ever not invited to Snow Fairy’s party and is eagerly anticipating this weekend’s festivities. She also likes the idea of celebrating her birthday multiple times over the course of eight days (once at school, once with parents and one grandparent, another time with other grandparents, and a final time with friends). (And, I am trying to give Snow Fairy’s mom the benefit of the doubt, because I have met her and she is very nice. She may not know that Maria gave their group of five a special moniker. She may have, like me, set a limit on the number of guests Snow Fairy could invite and demanded they stick with it. I still can’t shake my grudge, though, and passive-aggressively refused to respond to her Evite for two weeks.)

All of this drama (which, I realize, exists mostly in my head) is surely a portend of things to come. Maria is turning five, but sometimes it feels like she is turning thirteen, and I know that there will only be more friend drama as we move forward, and more crushes on boys, and more lobbying about cell phones and screen time and staying up late, and plenty of other drama I can’t even anticipate. I can’t protect her from being hurt by others her age, although I have a hard time accepting that. I have to focus on giving her the confidence to shake off snubs by Snow Fairies and boys that only say “nuts” when you confess your crush on them.

Like Father, Like Son

2011-01-23T08:02:00.003-06:00

Before I can tell you about some birthday drama (how could she be turning FIVE?? how can I have spent over 20 hours and $70 on a photo book?? who are these boys she wants to invite to her party??), I feel compelled to tell a few David stories from our trip to California. We spent about five days in California between Christmas and New Years, celebrating the holidays with DT's family and also celebrating our twin nephews' first birthday. (They are doing great. Click on the "PodTales" blog link on the right for more info and super cute photos.)

David's first sight of the twins was of totally identical little chubby-faced babies, tied into matching high chairs, staring blankly at him as they shoveled fake-Cheerios into their mouths. His reaction was honest: I scared of the babies! (Pronounced: I cay-erd of da babies.)* Of course, when they were released from their high chairs, he had even more reason to be scared. The twins would both crawl toward David at top speed, making grunting noises and generally looking like they either wanted to eat him or climb up him. By the end of the visit, though, David was having lots of fun with his baby cousins and loving the attention.

*It doesn't have to do with our trip to California, but David has another funny mispronunciation/mis-usage. He is convinced "ov um" means either "all" or "more." I must use "of them" more than the average bear (doling out M&Ms, I am prone to say "you can each have five of them," or when David is furiously pulling wipes from the container, I will say "we don't need all of them!"). But now, if you give David only a shake from the cinnamon sugar (and there is clearly more in the container), he says "No, Mom. OV UM!"

David loved the babies' attention on him, but he was not so keen on sharing his parents' attention with the babies. During one of our first days at the Pods' house, I was watching one of the babies, along with Chiara and David in the Pod living room. Chiara and David were playing with toys, and I had Michael on my lap. All of a sudden, Little Davy turned into his alter ego, David The Destroyer. He started pulling every round, breakable orb from the Pods' Christmas tree and throwing it toward the floor. Gold, red, green, and silver baubles were all tumbling onto the hardwood. I was paralyzed (Is this happening? Can I put this baby down? Where the heck is DT?) and pulled ineffectively at David with one arm while holding Michael in my other arm and shouting for DT. Chiara turned into protective big sister and started yelling "No David! No David! Those are breakable!!" All of which only made David act faster. DT came into the room and separated David from the tree and the broken shards on the floor, just as David was crushing a beautiful little ceramic teapot with blue designs on it... After that, David was banned from the gated area of the living room that housed the Christmas tree.

To be fair, I must point out that David may have only been trying his best to confirm he is DT's biological son. (Given David's blond hair and blue eyes, DT gets a lot of jokes about the mailman, the plumber, and my blond colleagues.) You see, while DT's mom was staying with us in December, she told our kids that when DT was about two, he wanted the Christmas tree ornaments to be balls, and he would throw the round ornaments at the floor in hopes that they would bounce and he could catch them. But they just kept breaking. Maria loved this story and recounted it for anyone who would listen. Our tree had no breakable round ornaments in his reach, so, maybe when David saw the Pods' tree, brimming with fragile "balls" at his level, he saw his chance to prove, yet again, he is his daddy's son.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

2010-12-24T22:31:00.007-06:00

With MT in trial, Christmas 2010 rested largely on my shoulders. Quite a change from year's past where I do about 10% of the shopping. Having experienced such an expanded role, I can confidently report that Santa works pretty damn hard.

I had devised an "Internet-Only" plan, extending the logic behind my preference for getting groceries delivered. And even then, buying the gifts on-line for all on the list took a pretty big chunk of time. It also required about a mile of those little air pillows used for packaging everything. That's due large to my inexplicable misunderstanding of Amazon and their "free" shipping. I thought buying one-stop would result in one shipment, but in fact Amazon is made up of tons of little vendors, all of whom charge separate shipping fees. So, yes, I paid $12 to ship a $7 item. And yes, I ended up sending 9 orders to my sister's house in Oakland (where we are spending the after-Christmas week) on top of the 13 orders that came to our house in Saint Paul. I haven't figured out the total ratio of price to shipping for Christmas 2010, mostly because I am afraid to. On the bright side--today was a very satisfying day for the recycling pick-up! I think we had more flattened boxes and stuff outside today than after we moved in.

So, here we are, on the Eve of the big day, with everything ordered, shipped, tracked, delivered, unpacked, stored, stashed, wrapped, stuffed, stacked, and ready for tomorrow morning. With all the work done, we felt it necessary to document our set-up so we will always remember exactly what the living room looked like when Maria and David came down in the morning:

If you look close, you will see the four stockings (2 on the rocking chairs and 2 on the floor below) made by my mom (my sister made MT's, I think). Also, the book shelf is stuffed with Santa gifts. A slew of gifts under the tree will also greet the kids:

Just after writing that sentence, I remembered the "Big One" that I have kept secret from MT - so secret it hadn't yet been wrapped. So I had to steal some Santa Paper from the large bookshelf to wrap it. Santa thought it was time for a Wii in our house. Too bad he didn't also think to buy Madden. But sports resort and the other sports game will be fun, at least until Maria's birthday when she'll get Madden. Never too early to learn how to beat the Cover 2.

Since the picture above shows it, you should also note that we finally changed out the pictures on the stairwell that have been there since May of 2004. At the time, they were mostly place-holders, random frames that the couple-not-yet-known-as-Ba-Banana hung there for us on the day that we moved in. Gone is the picture of MT and Jesse Jackson from 1997 ("I am.... sumbody!") and gone is the picture of MT and 2 law school classmates (whose names I can't even recall) in front of a glacier in South America.

As poorly as I planned the shipping expenses, I should get some credit for timing: everything was delivered as of last Saturday. At least so I thought. My mom who was staying with us for 3 weeks to help out while MT was in trial took Maria to Macy's downtown to see the 8th floor holiday display (2010 was Santa's Workshop) and to see the man himself. Maria had a blast, in part because she and my mom took a taxi to and from downtown Minneapolis in the middle of a snow storm, and in part because my mom also took her a fancy restaurant on the top floor for lunch.

Just as this picture is getting snapped, Santa asked Maria what she wanted for Christmas, natch. At first Maria said that she already had everything she could ever want. Santa was not satisfied and asked again. This time Maria said that she needed some more time to think about it. At this point, most Santas would probably let the kid off the hook. But not this guy. He asked again. Maria came up with the following: "A Rapunzel Dress." Now, I learn about this after she goes to bed that night.... That night was December 20. Nevertheless, we would not be thwarted! A tense hour of web surfing and one exorbitant express shipping fee later, we (hopefully) have purchased the randomly requested Rapunzel dress. (With braided wig for bonus points.) Whew.

Maria loves this picture,* and she makes sure to tell everyone that this was the REAL Santa. "I've seen other Santas, but this one was the REAL Santa!" And you have to hand it to Macy's cause this guy does look really good. He may need some work in the Q&A area, but his get-up is pretty spot on.

* It is only her second favorite picture of the season. Her favorite is this one that she got from BFF Audrey for Christmas. Audrey decorated a white frame for it, too:

BFF Audrey is Glenda the Good Witch. It was such a thoughtful and charming gift. Maria decided to put in her room. In her bed in her room. I think we were able to talk her into leaving it on the nightstand, but after we close the door, who knows. This is a good reminder, too, that just because Maria wants to pick out a gift for Audrey, that doesn't mean we should go along with it. A little more parental guidance and Audrey would not have received one of those ubiquitous Disney princess dress-up dolls from Walgreens. Fortunately, Audrey's birthday is about three weeks away (and two weeks before Maria's) so we have another chance soon.

Last Saturday we opened presents with Uncle Paulie and Ba-Banana. David got a workbench with tools and nuts and bolts and pieces that can be put together to make things like a race car or an airplane. He loves it and we love that Maria wants to help him build stuff, especially since she is able to follow the step-by-step picto-rections (spacial awareness!). Maria got a large easel and some paints, which she and David (wearng his new Vikings Jersey-Chad Greenway) put on its maiden voyage the next day after we got back from the Christmas Pageant at church:

Yes, those are sheep next to the farmer.

And speaking of pageants (nice segue!) we again filmed the entire show. Unlike last year, when Maria was a sheep and gave Go Tell It On the Mountain a little bounce (OK, a lot of bounce), this year's play called for her to be an Angel and to sing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing:

(MT and DT = Proud - she knew all the words! Of course, Nonna was here, so it's pretty safe to assume they worked on it a bit.)

Christmas 2010 has had a lot in common with past years, but there's also something quite different. Maybe it's because Maria is getting older, and David is now getting a clue about Christmas and presents. Or maybe it is because for the first time, we are not hosting relatives, or having Christmas morning at someone else's house, or spending it with MT's family who live nearby. This year, it's just the four of us. And this year, for the first time, MT and I are the ones carrying on the family traditions of the season. There are bear claws in the fridge and there's a video camera getting its battery charged, even though my dad is thousands of miles away. There are Toblerone packs and Lifesavers in the stockings, even though Ba-Banana and Nonna won't be there to see kids open them. The ornaments that MT's Grandma has been giving her every year since she was born hang on our tree, along with some of the new ones that Maria and David have received.

And here we wait. Here, where the house really is all quiet and still, surrounded by pillows of nearly waist-deep snow outside, isolating us and yet also making the house that much warmer. We wait for tomorrow morning, when Maria and David (and MT and I) will come downstairs and be overcome with excitement and cheer and happiness. Christmas 2010--not all that different from the ones 30 years ago when I was Maria's age. Except now, we're the ones eating the cookies left out by the fireplace--and all that goes with that.

Fa la la la--TREAT!

2010-12-10T20:56:00.010-06:00

Somewhere in the last 5-6 months, Baby David put his baby days behind him. He used to be happy to just go along for the ride, but that’s changed. Now he needs to exert control over his surroundings and his experiences. And his ability to communicate these desires has also bloomed in just the last three weeks. In other words, he’s bossing us around just like Maria does.

“No. You stay downtaiws. Color with Maria. Nonna* come uptaiws with me.” Or “No jelly. Just peanut butter.” Last night it was “no chicken, just cheese” in his quesadilla. When we let Maria watch a video, David has a strong prefernce there too, and he screams, “WUWD GUWL! WUWWWWD GUWWWWL!”** When he takes a bath, he always wants Maria in the bath with him, and when drying off, he has to turn on the hair dryer himself. He decides what he wants to play with and where things should go. He tells inanimate objects (and animate ones, too) when they have to have a time out. He has a definite idea of what he wants to wear, and every night and morning, refuses to change shirts. For instance, yesterday morning, he refused to take off his new snowman pajama top. So he wore it to day care and again to bed, making it 36 straight hours in the same shirt. His favorite shirts are what he calls his “soccer ball shirts,” which are really two replica football jerseys, a Texas one and a retro-turned-relevant-turned-retro-again (all in 3 weeks) Randy Moss Vikings Jersey. Those 2 get worn every week, without fail, and usually to bed that night as pajamas. Hmm, wearing one's Texas football jersey all day, all night, and all day the next day? Sounds like just another weekend to me. And now, I'm not the only one.

For the most part, we are happy to oblige. We might be happier with a “please” in there, but I think he’s catching on with that, too. This morning he said, “No Daddy. Come here with me please.” How can you resist that? You have to reward such a request. Although once I did, he ran as fast as he could, giggling, to where I had just come from. He also thought it was hilarious this morning to answer my questions with “YYYYYYYYY-No” or the reverse, “NNNNNNN-yes.” Tricky, David!

Although we noticed this much earlier, it bears repeating now. The kid has a highly developed sense of fairness. Whatever Maria gets, he’s entitled to, too. No exceptions. It is the guiding moral principle in his life.

*Not to be confused with Nana,*^ as in banana, and referring to MT’s Step Mom. “Nonna” is my mom, who is in town for a few weeks as MT is in trial.*^^ She used to be “Grandma Phoebe” in our house, but Chiara called her Nonna in Oakland and Maria decided she liked that better. Having Nonna home means the kids get to alternate staying home from school, Maria’s bed is always made in the morning, we eat fantastic meals, including her famous chicken enchiladas and biscochitos (I can’t stop eating them!), and I don’t go completely crazy with MT working around the clock.

**Word Girl. For the uninitiated, it is a PBS cartoon about a super-heroine, “from the Planet Lexicon” who, with her super powers and her monkey sidekick, “Captain Huggyface” (or is it “Huggypants?” Huggy-something) defeats good-natured villains like “Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy” and “Lady Redundant Woman,” all the while using big words like “astounding” or “beseech.” And here is Jim Lehrer interviewing Word Girl. For some reason David loves Word Girl, or least loves to demand to watch it, even though his attention span is all of 45 seconds. (Unlike his sister, who instantly turns into a mouth-breathing, tongue-thrusting zombie when a kids show is on.) Little does he know, he was a Toy Story 3 phase away from being Captain Huggypants for Halloween.

Here is Becky Botsford, a/k/a Word Girl, and Captain Huggypants:

He has also started asking for Dinosaur Train, also PBS. I appreciate the show's concept and imagine writers sitting around a table saying, “OK, folks. We need a new kid’s show. Ideas?” “Hey, Boss, kids like trains.” “Mine likes his T-Rex toy.” “OOh! How about The TyRAINasaurus Rex Show! A big train with big teeth and spikes and tiny little arms!” “Perfect!” . . . “Uh, boss? I don’t get it.” and on, until they stumble on the to time-traveling-train-that-takes-the-kid-dinosaurs-to-meet-different-dinosaurs-concept. What have our kids learned? I think Maria knows what carnivore/herbivore/omnivore means, but she also likes to announce that birds are dinosaurs. “Close enough,” I think.

*^ Yes, I have a side-note from a side-note. Write my editor. She won’t respond right now because she is too busy in trial (see side-note *^^, supra.) (I wish I had a better typographic symbol to use, but at the same time, I like that I say “Star-Dink” or “Star-Dink-Dink” in my head when I type the ^.) While Nana is MT’s Step Mom, MT’s dad is Baba. So the unit (and they are almost always referred to collectively) is Baba-Nana, or as I like to think of it, Ba-Banana. Most recently Ba–Banana filled the kids’ advent calendars up with loads of chocolate. Both kids went nuts. David was jumping in the air and stomping as hard as he could with cowboy boots (not just for Halloween anymore) on the floor, yelling “Special Christmas Treat!” within minutes of the calendars getting filled. I assume Maria used those words to tell him what was going on because none of the adults did. Intersting also because I am pretty sure that David at that point had no way to associate any meaning to the word "Christmas," although he definitely would understand "special" and "treat." Now he knows Christmas is just another word for "sugar."

Ba-Banana love the adoration and credit that the kids give them because of the advent calendars, which remind me of the lab rats in Uncle Paul's NIH lab who have to smack a bar to get hits of cocaine. "Oh, come onnnn, Doctor Paulie! Be cool, man. Just. [Spastic] One. [Whisker] More. [Twitch.]" Only our kids' doors dispense chocolate. Lots of chocolate. How much, you ask. Well, last week, I counted 5 different pieces of candy - 3 coins and 2 bells. Five pieces for each kid--on DAY THREE. As Maria said, "I wonder how many there will be behind the 25 door! HUNDREDS!" In addition to coins and bells, so far we have had a chocolate snowman, tiny chocate boxes wrapped like presents (far and away David's favorite), and Lindor truffles. Just the good stuff, Ba-Banana.

In contrast to Ba-Banana, who are grand-parents to just Maria and David, Nonna has to try to be 5 different grand-kids' favorite grandma. Which is why she made Maria such an elaborately detailed Jesse costume for Halloween and why, in addition to taking care of Maria and David from 7:00 a.m. until roughly 8:30 p.m., she also spends her nights as the stocking Christmas elf, making the traditional sequened stocking for my sister's one-year old twins, Michael and Wagner.

An action shot:

The advent calendars aren't the only Christmas in the house. We also got our Christmas Tree last Saturday and every time I mentioned the words “Christmas Tree,” David would yell, “CHRISTMAS TREAT!” and run to the calendars. It wasn’t until after we set the tree up that he understood the difference between Christmas Tree and Christmas Treat. Here is our decorated house (noticeably cleaner than usual thanks to the stocking elf):

I can't talk about decorations without commenting on Maria's art. She has started to expand beyond the simple drawing and coloring. From the paper dress she made for Raja to the purses, crowns, and magic wands (with sparkling stars on the ends) that she made for the kids in her class, to the name tags she made for our dining room chairs, to the princess castle and pop-up Christmas Tree forrest that surrounds it, she has started to show some creative and innovative ideas in her arts and crafts.

(Why do I have that 'stache??)

*^^ I almost forgot the Star-Dink-Dink on MT’s trial: She just finished week 2 of what will likely be 4+ weeks of trial. That’s why I got to pick the photos for the Christmas card this year. That's also why we completely missed Zander's party last weekend. The invite was placed in Maria's cubby without any problems. It just never made its way to day light, staying at the bottom of the day care bag until this morning, when MT found it. Now MT has to find the time to send the obligatory, "Sorry Zander's Mom, Maria's dad flunked out of Parent Etiquette 101 and I haven't been around to cover..." In fact, MT has been working so many hours that Maria made her a Christmas card at school. It said, "Mom, I hope you have a Merry Christmas."

Two Cuties

2010-11-18T12:19:00.002-06:00

Last Friday, around 7:15 pm, I got this e-mail:

Hey [MT] - it's Brooke, Z.'s mom. I wanted you to know that Z. asked Maria to make a crown for him today at school. She did, and it is extremely cute. Apparently she initially protested, indicating "crowns are only for queens" but Les [their teacher] suggested she could make a crown for a king. Z. wore it home and STILL has it on (it is currently 7p). Very sweet, I thought you'd want to know. ;)

--------------------------

Also, starting this past weekend, DT and I noticed that David seemed to be saying "Esther" all the time. One out of every five words sounded like Esther, but we couldn't figure out what he meant. (I assumed he wasn't obliquely asking for his Aunt Marian, whose middle name is Esther. Or the Veggie Tales movie about Esther, since he doesn't really like TV.)

Finally on Tuesday we figured it out. Esther is "Yes, Dear." David says it in response to almost every question we ask. "Ready to get up, Davy?" "Esther." "Want to read the Digger book, Davy?" "Esther."

His teachers at day care insist that they did not teach him that phrase, and DT and I laughed at the notion that either of us say "yes, dear" in conversation at home. So, David appears to have just dreamed up that cuteness on his own.

----------------------------

These are the little moments that really make you smile as a parent.

YEE-HAWloween!

2010-10-31T19:31:00.007-05:00

It is 7:30 pm on Halloween. David is sleeping; overtaken by the excitement of having his neighbors provide dessert. I am handing out scores of "Halloween Gummies," i.e. the lame candy that is left at Walgreens at 4:30 on Halloween afternoon. Our little Jessie (the Yodeling Cowgirl) is still out trick-or-treating with Dad, enjoying every last bit of her costume. (Which she has now worn on three occasions -- to the children's museum last week, to the costume party at day care, and now on Halloween day, including even to the theater to watch Toy Story 3 for the second time. )

Here they are, ready for the day care party. (Maria is in a bit of an American Gothic phase in terms of posing for photos...)

These pictures show Maria's joy when she first tried on the costume.

I'm the Rootin'est Tootin'est Cowgirl!

What does "Rootin'est" mean, Mom?

And here we all are just a few hours ago, ready to trick or treat.

Big shout out to DT's momma, who lovingly sewed and purchased all the fun parts of the kids' costumes, including real cowboy boots!

October observations

2010-10-25T21:00:00.008-05:00

Next post will be all Halloween cuteness, complete with photos, but today is just some random thoughts, separated by some random dashes.

--------------------

Sometime before a child turns five the public starts to change their expectations. For example, if little David threw a temper tantrum in our grocery store, people would still smile at him and wink at me. However, if Maria demands loudly "I EXPECT CHOCOLATE AND PRINCESS VITAMINS" at the same grocery store, we both get mean looks. At some point it's not cute anymore, it's bad behavior. (And it's mom's fault.)

-------------------

Birthday parties are fun!! Even as grown ups! I had not thrown a party for my own birthday (or DT's) for years -- feeling parties were appropriate only for "big" birthdays. But this year I did it anyway and loved it. We drank, played games, and stayed up late. Just like in the old days.

--------------

Once a word is mis-learned, it is so hard to unlearn. When will Maria stop saying "Opent" and "cousint"? Or "extracise"? We have tried repeating the correct pronunciation to her often, but she doesn't seem to hear the difference...David may be on his way to a lifetime of "chusic" instead of "music."

--------------------

I should make a practice of noticing special things about other people's children and then sharing those observations with the parents. I brought Maria to a birthday party this weekend and two of the moms went out of their way to tell me how impressed they are at how focused Maria is when she plays and how well she plays by herself and how smart she is. I was so happy! (And I had not really known she was different in her focus than others her age.) And then I realized I had nothing to say about their lovely daughters because all I ever do at day care is grab my children and run, which is not conducive to careful observations of other children.

--------------------

Confirmation of how little we cook: I started a fire in our oven on David's birthday and then we simply stopped using it for five weeks. (How did I start a fire? Oh, by idiotically reheating the roast chicken by placing the entire package, including the plastic top, into the oven at 400 degrees. So the plastic melted, stunk up the house, and started a fire. DT had to remove multiple parts of the oven to clean out all the melted plastic, which is why we put it off for five weeks.)

-------------------------

Maria might be my best wedding date EVER. She loves to talk about the princess dresses, hair-dos, flowers, jewelry and shoes. She is great at making friends with strangers. (She eyed another little girl wearing glasses during the ceremony and was thrilled when we were seated with that girl's family at the reception.) She even will happily do the chicken dance and polkas!

Of course, the wedding may be the reason she started kissing her stuffed tiger on the lips.

--------------------

By the way, Maria seems to be over the hump of bad behavior! Woo hoo!

Starring, the Ladies of the House

2010-10-10T10:32:00.008-05:00

During the week of September 27, Maria got to be "Star of the Week" in her preschool class. This is the information she provided in response to a questionnaire from her teachers:

My hobbies are: Drawing, swimming, dancing

My favorite food is: Macaroni and cheese (with chocolate for dessert)

When I grow up I want to be: half a princess, half a scuba diver, half a fairy, half a scientist, half an artist, and half a builder

My favorite book is: The Quiltmaker's Journey

My favorite sport is: soccer

My favorite song is: "A Whole New World" from Aladdin

Three more things I want to tell you about myself are: My favorite movie is Aladdin; My nickname is Tortilla; My favorite word is "booty"

All this information was dutifully recorded on the bulletin board in the front of her class, with lots of photos of her from the past 4.7 years. Unfortunately, being Star of the Week proved disappointing to Maria. She had personally interpreted it as "Tyrant of the Week" and planned to make all her friends play roles she created for them, dress up how she dictated, and thought her teachers would give her a free pass on any bad behavior. "Mom, when you are Star of the Week, you get to do WHATEVER YOU WANT!" Didn't work out that way.

Speaking of bad behavior, Maria's behavior in the past few weeks has been the worst I can remember. She is defiant, oh is she defiant (and sometimes irrational and rude). For example, when I was picking her up from day care last week she refused my multiple entreaties to stop sweeping the yellow play house and get ready to go home until I counted and threatened time out. Then she said she needed to go back to her classroom to get her other shoes. So we started up the stairway to her class. Halfway there she shouts "YOU CAN'T COME WITH ME. STAY HERE. I WANT TO DO IT BY MYSELF." I told her I would wait on the landing of the stairway, and asked her to please just grab her shoes and return quickly. So there I am, hanging out on the landing as the other parents look quizzically at me, for one minute, two minutes, three minutes. No Maria. Finally, in defeat, I trudge up to her classroom and see she has started a new art project (and has not grabbed her shoes). At this point, there is yelling on both sides and angry stomping down the stairs.

Here's another taste of our four-year old's attitude: "Blah blah blah, whatever!" She usually says that in the middle of DT's lectures about why she shouldn't have done something. I mean, we all THINK that, but you're not supposed to say it!

Now, in an attempt to follow my sister-in-law's advice to focus on the positive, however, I will not tell any more stories about Maria's ability to drive me and DT to the brink, but instead her ability to draw! Over the past months she continues to impress us with her artistic ability. Here are a few examples, complete with her explanation of the work.

This one shows Maria and me watching the fireworks explode on the Fourth of July (check out my heart-breasts!):

This one shows Cinderella in her blue ball gown (complete with contrasting blue petals at the hip -- just like in the Disney version) riding in her pumpkin coach:

Here's the original, in case you have forgotten the details:

As DT likes to emphasize, Maria has now surpassed my own drawing ability.

Finally, I got to be a minor "star" in my own right during the week of Sept 27: the shareholders of my law firm voted my admission as a shareholder! Woo hooo.

Chugga Chugga Two Two!

2010-09-18T14:15:00.001-05:00

We are seven days into David's (eight day) Birthday Week and I can report that he is now TWO and that he loves all the attention.

Here he is on the first day of his special week, enjoying his first meal in his new big boy chair! (A fascimile of Maria's.) He loves being up at the table with us intead of in a high chair.

Here he is on Wednesday ( his actual birthday), telling DT about his Thomas birthday balloon.

Here he is awestruck by his new tractor (probably not the right word...can I just call it a "CAT" like the box did?) that plays rock music as it romps forward.

On his birthday we also set up his new basketball hoop. He doesn't quite have the hang of tossing the ball up yet, so he was using the massage chair to give him a boost.

"Birthday song! Birthday song!"

He has learned the art of hamming it up for the camera...

Today we hosted four other toddlers for David's kid party. I had lots of big ideas of games and structure ( "David County Fair" was my theme), but in fact we just had unstructured fun playing with toys in the front yard (an advertisement for Little Tikes with soccer goal, basketball hoop, and slide!), toys in the living room, and then having lunch and cake. The party was the first time David was willing to don the family birthday hat.

Maria wore her favorite dress for the occasion.

Here's David with two little friends (inspecting David's candle as they await pieces of DQ cake).

At two, David loves vehicles of all kinds. He can identify a school bus when its bumper has just barely crossed his line of vision. He hears motorcycles, airplanes and helicopters before anyone else. He loves Thomas the train. His favorite book is "My First Things That Go Board Book." (Two weeks ago it was "Go Dog Go." Before that, "Sheep In a Jeep.") And he is always willing to take a walk to see a digger or follow the recycling truck.

He doesn't just want to look at vehicles. He wants to operate them. He loves "driving" our cars (pushing buttons, honking the horn, turning up the radio, and steering). He still enjoys riding in his little police car and Mickey Mouse fire engine. And just last week he actually mastered pedaling a tricycle (with Legos taped onto the pedals to make the distance a bit shorter).

David's little legs are not short for his age, though. At David's second year checkup, he weighed in at around the 71st percentile and was 68th percentile for height. As a comparison, at 18 months, he was about 64th percentile for weight, but only 26th percentile for height (at 31.5 inches, now he's 35 inches). The nurse triple-checked his height in disbelief that his percentile would change so drastically in just six months.

David can now jump with two feet. And he loves to swing at the park.

David still sleeps in the cardboard box contraption.

David loves scrambled eggs, pizza, macaroni and cheese, fruit of any kind, veggie breakfast sausages, ice cream and chocolate.

David uses too many words to count. (I told his pediatrician it was more than 200.) But just recently he started calling his sister "Ma-ria" instead of just "Ria." He also acquired some four syllable words including, not surprisingly, helicopter. He started using commands and likes to shout "COME, MAMA!" or "Watch!" He is learning comparisons like "too loud" or "too far." By far, though, David's favorite phrase is "Do Self!" (Meaning, leave me alone already, I am TWO for goodness sakes and I know exactly how to put these socks on/walk down the stairs/climb into my car seat/figure out how to eat that popsicle/drink that beer, etc.)

He is also an incredibly easy-going, happy little guy and we love him to pieces!

Flying Solo

2010-09-07T21:49:00.003-05:00

My mother is crazy. My big sister is too. Let me explain. My sister, yes, the one with the preemie twins, scheduled relatives to come in and help out since the babies were born late last year. (Not at all crazy.) She soon realized that instead of having the help come to the Bay Area, she could go to the help. (Also, not crazy.) So she took the kids to El Paso. (Not as crazy as it sounds. EP gets a bad rap.) She also thought it would be a good idea to help move my other sister (the one without kids) in to her swanky new apartment in Austin where she will be attending the world class institution of football (and some higher learning) that is UT Austin. For those not in the know - that’s a 9 hour drive ... each way ... if you are a college student ... with no regard for safety or state troopers. With babies and a toddler, I think it takes at least a week and a half to drive there. On top of that, my sister decided to coordinate two more family visits: She and spouse and the kids will be returning to the Bay Area--via Michigan–via Minnesota (just in time for the Fair*). And that makes my sister crazy. Even more crazy than the time she took 18-month-old Baby Chiara to Italy. Me? I didn’t want to take my 18-month-old to an Italian restaurant.

*Ahhh, The Fair! And to think that for all of my non-Minnesotan life I thought Disney World was the happiest place on earth. At least my children (and my sister’s) will know better. What awaits? Giant Slide, Pronto Pups, Cheese Curds, Fried Pickles, Goat Milking, Butter Carvings of teen pageant winners, Roasted Corn on the Cob, Crop Art, Sweet Martha’s Cookies, Tent full of Butterflies, 4H-ers' Musical, Chocolate Covered Frozen Key Lime Pie, Kidway Rides for Maria, Tractors for sale (and climbing) for David, and more Fried Pickles for the way home. As usual, MT and I ditched the kids for date night at the fair and then went a second time with the kiddos.

Then there’s my mom. My mom’s retirement dream would be to run Camp Phoebe every summer for her grand kids and her sisters’ grand kids. For the past few years she has taken care of a few of her sister’s grand kids for a week or two. (This I call crazy. Although, come to think of it, I won’t be at all surprised if my sister hosts sleep away camp for Maria’s or David’s kids someday.) I think this was mostly warm-up for when my mom’s own grand kids were older. As in, now. This year, we relented under my mom’s gentle pressure and agreed to send our little girl to sleep away grandma camp.

So, my mom flew up to Minnesota, visited David for a few days (just long enough for him to start calling out for her in the mornings), then took Maria with her back to El Paso for a week. Then she and Maria flew back here. Then my mother spent a book-end visit here and flew solo back to El Paso. Maybe my sister’s children are less exhausting than my own. Or, maybe my mom is trying to get cast in some grandma-of-the-year reality show. or maybe my mom is just really bad at being retired. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t enough for her to have Chiara and Michael and Wagner (and my sister) in the house. She also needed Maria (and wanted David, too), just to sprinkle a little more chaos on camp week. OK, a lot more chaos.

We had started Skyping with my sister a few months ago so Maria and Chiara could talk when they missed each other and so we could see how the twins were growing. We were able to Skype with Maria while she was at camp. And to any of you who don’t think I am being very fair to my dear daughter by thinking other people crazy who might to take care of her for extended periods of time, I offer this photograph as proof of said chaotic activity:

Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually), you can’t hear the sound she is making.

The visit turned out to exceed all of my lowest expectations, Maria was delightful, well-behaved, and keep a good sleeping schedule. She only had to have a timeout one time, something involving marbles and throwing. We got periodic text messages from my sister, most of them reassuring. (One of the exceptions: “I told your daughter that the louder you cry the more it hurts.”) All in all, I think we were having a much harder time of it than she. We don’t see my family in El Paso nearly enough, and I think it was good for her to have to navigate the changes in her environment, changes to her daily routines and changes to the rules and expectations all by herself.

She even experienced what was a weekly occurrence for me growing up–the divorced kid exchange-by spending a weekend at my dad’s house. Being ever conscious of the stress that the exchange can put on kids, I tried to prepare her for it. I explained what was going to happen so she would understand. I also tried to delicately answer her questions about step-parents. In the end, she was completely oblivious to the implications and baggage that we give to divorce and to the stigma people put on step-parents. Neither the explanation about how some couples fight so much that they decide not to married anymore nor the concept of the evil step mothers in Snow White and Cinderella really registered. All of this preparation only resulted in her asking MT, hopefully, “When do I get to have a step-mother?” (The way MT tells it, she did not respond with, “That depends.Your father still hasn't done the recycling or put away his clothes from last week.”) To take away a positive** from that, Maria wanting a step-mother is a nice compliment to all of my and MT’s step-parents. Maria had a great time at my dad’s, and here is proof (I did not upload the video of her falling off of the floatie):

My Sister is displaying proper ballet swim technique.

Look: Dads do crafts!

The highlight of the week had to be the swimming lessons. My mom rented Oscar the Swim Teacher for an hour a day to give private lessons to Maria and Chiara. Oscar’s lessons pushed Maria one step closer to being able to swim by herself, and by the end of the week, she was happily dunking her head under the water to retrieve diving toys that had settled at the bottom near her feet.

** My sister has started a listserve of sorts where people make a conscious effort to say positive things, instead of the more instinctive comments or thoughts we have. It’s all part of the realizations she has made watching the twins grow. After months of being told comments like, “How do you do it?” and “NICU for 4 months - I can’t imagine how awful that must be,” my sister wants to tell the world to embrace the positive. While on their face, admiring and empathetic, such comments also inevitably originate from a point of privileged ignorance and represent a low expectation of how each of us would hopefully respond. My sister, I think, wants to focus on the love and joy that she felt, even while the boys were facing very slim odds that they would ever be where they are today. She doesn’t think she has done anything admirable, just tried to accept what she faced like any other person might. And to that, I write an entire blog post to explain one thing: my sister is a crazy person. It is great to see her, and Matt and the boys and Chiara. But to leave home for four weeks and travel (most of it solo) from California to El Paso to Austin to Minnesota to Michigan, with a 3 year old and two twins (adjusted age: 4 months)? That is what a completely crazy person does. But, she comes by it honestly. Just look at her mother:

Toothy Intermission

2010-08-29T11:34:00.006-05:00

DT has been side-tracked by his day job and his fantasy football drafts (his new evening job), so Part II of our vacation story, as well as other stories he has in mind from August, are on hold.

To fill the void, I am posting a short update.

In the past three weeks, Maria lost her first two teeth! (Okay, last Labor day she lost her first tooth falling off a chair, but these teeth came out naturally. With a little help from a ball to the face, and some crunchy ice, but they were very wiggly and there are teeth coming in underneath.) 4.6 years old seemed to us hideously early to lose teeth, but according to the all-knowing Internet it's not too surprising since she cut her teeth early. Here's how the new smile looks with the gaps in the bottom:

For the record, our toothless wonder got six quarters from the tooth fairy for each lost tooth. (Cheapskate Tooth Fairy! But she was thrilled.) Also for the record, our toothless wonder no longer wants to be a scuba diver, but a scientist. "And I am already half a scientist," she says.

David's news is that he is in the midst of a transition to a room with 24-36 month old children ("Room A"), which has prompted a spurt of new language development. Yesterday he could even have this short conversation with me:
"Hi Mama!"
"Hi David!. How are you?"
"Good."

Short, yes, but better than just a week ago when he did not understand how to respond to my question, but only parrot it back, so the conversation went "How are you David?" "How are you Mama?" "How are you David?" "How are you Mama?" ad infinitum.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation - Part One

2010-08-07T18:36:00.010-05:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. In other words--it was summer vacation. We wanted to get away from it all, especially since MT turned in a record-breaking (for her) billable year. (Yes, I know it is July, but her work year runs from July to June.) We were entitled. Entitled to relaxation, recreational reading, family time, and most of all--entitled to be somewhere outside of any blackberry coverage. The plan was to get back to the idyllic slice of rustic luxury that is MT's stepmother's family summer cabin in British Columbia, Canada. While MT used to go nearly every summer as a kid, I have only been there twice--once before kids and once when Maria was 1.5.

Part of the charm of the cabin is its isolation. The nearest town is 20-30 minutes away, and the nearest airport is a solid 2.5 hours away. In the past, we have flown to Seattle and driven to the cabin, a long day's beautiful drive through the mountains of British Columbia. With the kids, we thought it best to fly to said nearest airport and drive from there. MT verified that children travelling with parents do not need a passport to enter Canada, only a birth certificate, so we made sure to stash a copy of David's certificate along with the rest of our passports whilst packing late the night before the trip. We had most of the travel day planned out: A 7 a.m. flight meant rousing the kids from their sleep (Maria loves to quote the Cave of Wonder's line from Aladdin: "Who disturbs my slumber!") at about 5 a.m. Rather than wake up even earlier, we figured we would get through security and eat something on the way to the gate, which would be, by our calculation between 6:00 and 6:15. We had several well-thought-out toys or items in our backpacks for doling out during the flight to keep the kids entertained, from coloring books, to a dry erase board, to the essential kids anthology, our portable DVD player with Toy Story 1 and 2 from Netflix, and, of course, loads of snacks. We thought we had it all planned out.

We erred.

Moronic, inexcusable erring of astounding proportions. Yes, we had reviewed what Canada required, but despite all of our collective brain power (even our collective legal training), we never thought to check what the U.S. might require to allow us to leave the country or to return to it.

Things started to go awry when the computer kiosk where we were checking bags requested that we scan our passports, one passenger at a time. MT-done. DT-done. Maria-done. David . . . um, not done. And, as it turns out his not being done undoes the rest of our already dones. We were (finally) able to get the attention of the agent, with the hopes of checking our bags and moving along. He greeted us with a dismissive, "the law says everyone has to have a passport, ma'am."

Now, in my family there is something known as LA FEBE. [Pronounced kind of like Feh-Beh, not rhyming with dweeb.] It's named for my mother, Phoebe, or, more specifically my mother's Mrs. Hyde alter ego. We grew up seeing our sweet mother morph into this jedi mind master from the darkside. Her eyes would squint, her jaw would clench, and somewhere deep down, her bile would start to bubble and she would unleash a verbal assault that would reduce the target to the size of a little mouse. Turns out, there's a gene for that. Over the years, I too have been overtaken by this inner beast. I actually think it might be triggered by the word "Ma'am." Right about when I start to grunt "what? Did you just say "the law says . . .?' GRRRR. . . HULK . . . ANGRY," both kids begin to lose it. MT, noticing the Febe coming on, says, "let me talk to him, you watch the kids. Go away."

Not surprisingly, dude in the blue, sleeveless jumpsuit (sleeveless so everyone can see his D-Bag tattoos--really? A barbed wire arm band? Really? How embarrassing for the tattoo artist) was not able to assist us and left to find management once MT pointed out that our first flight was to Seattle, and not one for which passports are normally required. Mrs. Manager took a predictable hour to finally let us know that the best they could do was to re-issue our tickets for a different Seattle flight (since the one we had actual tickets for had by this point already boarded). Oh, and that would only be another $800 per person. MT and I had a quick consult, followed by a quick thanks but no thanks and a very slow walk of shame from the ticketing area, where we had made quite the scene for the last hour and a half, back to the taxis. Slow because we still had all of our crap, and no smart cart: Me carrying Maria, a backpack, a small suitcase, Maria's giant car seat (ahh, the downside of the uber safe 5-point harness up to 80 lbs Britax Frontier) and a pack'n'play and MT carrying David, a second backpack, a large suitcase, his stroller, and his giant car seat (also uber safe, the Britax Marathon). A short cab ride home and we are back where we started, four hours after we packed up the first cab. Fun morning, huh kids?

Time to re-group. MT moves to make breakfast while I try to salvage the vacation. I find out about private companies who can, for a small fee, expedite your passport applications, getting you a passport in less than 48 hours. I also find out that flying from Winnipeg to Kelowna (the nearest airport to Lake Shuswap) runs about $300 per person less than a flight from Minneapolis to Seattle. Even better, the rental car rate from the nearest airport (for which we already had a reservation) runs about $300 cheaper than the rental car rate if you rent in Seattle. Another quick marital consultation and decision made: tickets from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Kelowna, B.C. 7 a.m. for the next morning. We are driving to Winnipeg! Good thing I never moved our crap from the curb into the house. MT does a quick diaper change while I pull the trusty Subaru Outback around to the front, load it up, and we're off!

Well, we are off to Kinkos for passport photos. Then off to the one US Post Office in town that will approve applications on a Saturday, between the hours of 10:00 and 11:30. We make it and by noon we have one sealed, stamped, officially approved passport application in hand. Next came lunch, a Fed-Ex drop off box and we were really off!

Well, we were off the interstate because large portions of it were closed or one-laned. Thank you, American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. City streets, downtown, more city streets, and finally, back on the highway with the assistance of Map Computer (our handy-dandy teeny-tiny Tom Tom). Now we were really really off!

Looking back three weeks later, this may have been the greatest moment of our marriage. Despite our blunder, and by "our," I think we all know which one of us was making the travel arrangements months ahead of time (= not me), there was no blame (at the time) and not even a shred of spousal or parental discord. We got knocked down, pulled ourselves quickly up from the canvas, and together, hand-in-hand, fled the ring as fast as we could, juggling our children and all their portable stuff, cruise control on, Putamayo Kids CD Sampler blaring, united by our setbacks. Our greatest marital triumph was not getting angry or bickering despite the lack of sleep, the unmitigated disaster that was our morning, the rush-planning of the replacement travel in the span of 30 minutes, the prospect of 8 hours in car ahead of us, and the stress that is trying to do so with two kids, and not jusrt any two kids--our two crazy kids. Three passports, four people, two backpacks, three pacifiers, two cameras, all in one wagon. Like the old days, but with seat belts and a DVD player. One family. One mission: to make it to Canada. Oh, Canada!

Happier Place

2010-07-16T19:52:00.003-05:00

We are all in a much happier place than we were when we last posted! We are off to vacation and I couldn't leave the blog with such a melancholy face.

Here is David trying to spin the first squash from our garden like a top:

Here he is just asking "what do you want me to do with this, mom?"

Here is the egg that DT and my dad made for the "egg drop" at Maria's school. It is a brown (non hard boiled) egg, taped inside the egg carton, then surrounded with newspaper, and stuffed inside a purple ball, which was inside an old soccer ball, which was then decorated with Maria's initials...

AND Princess Jasmine.

Thankfully, Jasmine did not get splattered with egg. The Princess-soccer-ball dropped from the roof of the day care, bounced a bit, and kept our little egg intact. Until about an hour later when Maria dropped it on the playground. :)

Re-Entry

2010-06-29T19:09:00.012-05:00

I have been a stranger to family life for almost two months because I have been so busy at work. We hit the final big push over the weekend and as of 4:30 yesterday, work should be back to normal again. While I was billing away, DT had to pick up the slack. He has done the drop offs at day care, the pick ups at day care, the preparation of meals, the baths, the putting to bed (and the re-putting to bed), the dishes, the laundry, the cleaning up of the mess David makes during every meal, and even paid the bills (for the first time in our marriage). DT also took the kids to California by himself for five days while I was out of town in Chicago for depositions. I would leave for work before the kids woke up everyday, join them for dinner, and then return to work shortly afterward. Weekends meant carving out large chunks of the day when I could either get into the office or work from home. All of this makes DT a saint (a supremely crabby saint, but a saint).

During my period of absenteeism, David started out crying for me when I left the room and was clingy when we did have time together. DT reported that David would ask or call out for me on the ride home from day care and every morning. He also had a few days where the day care said he seemed sad and "off." This made me feel guilty, but at least meant I had kept my place as #1 in his heart. By yesterday, when I was finally on the other side of the mountain of work I've been climbing, David wasn't interested in me anymore. While I was trying to put him to bed last night, he saw DT over my shoulder and cried for HIM, reaching out to get away from me. That's more heartbreaking than than when he used to cry "Mama, MAAAAAMMMAAAA" and desperately grab for me when I left the room.

And this morning, when I cheerfully got up to help everyone get ready for school, I found they have new routines, ones that started without me. DT lets David pick his own shirt for the day, which David loves. I tried to force my own choice on him this morning and got shouting in return. DT gives each child a cookie on the way to school. I brought nothing to the car and got mutiny in return ("we're out of Oreos" was not a valid defense). I am so far out of the normal routine that I also ended up driving 90% of the way to day care before I saw Maria dancing in her seat and realized I had never buckled her in.

In a shameless attempt to ingratiate myself, I have allowed many out-of-the-ordinary treats. I took Maria to Toy Story 3 on Saturday night (at DT's spontaneous suggestion--really a ploy for him to watch DVR-ed world cup games), keeping her up past her bedtime and eating movie popcorn. Yesterday, I let David stay up 45 minutes past his bedtime for homemade chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. I feel like a divorced parent spoiling the kids during my every-other-weekend.

I know this will sort itself out. In a week, the children won't remember that there were mornings where I wasn't around to refuse cookies and I will soon be re-integrated into our home routines. But this is painful. And it's a good reminder that when we go away, our place in the house doesn't stay empty, it gets filled, and the children keep growing and changing. (It also has made me reflect on how hard it must be for deployed service members who come home and find a very different home than they left.)

Plus, it's not all bumbling. My re-entry also restores some needed...um, oversight to the family. Here's but one example: At the end of one day, Maria was complaining that her undies didn't fit. Huh? "Why not?" I ask. "They are extras from school." And, true enough, I had never seen that particular pair of underwear before. I asked her if she had had an accident, and she said she hadn't, explaining that "my teachers said I have to have underwear." Piecing the puzzle together, I learned that DT let her dress herself that morning and she chose a lovely flouncy skirt. She also chose to go commando under said flouncy skirt, something her teachers decided was inappropriate.

Hopefully, having two parents around to see the kids off each morning will help all of us to be happier, not to mention properly clothed.

Aladdin 911

2010-06-12T21:22:00.006-05:00

Our house has two sorts of people -- those who can fall asleep easily and those who can't. DT frequently complains of tossing and turning for hours before he is able to turn off his mind and fall asleep and now it appears Maria is similarly afflicted. We have been trying lots of tricks to help her fall asleep. One of them is to tell her that if I, super sleeper, lay down next to her with some parts of us touching, some of the sleepiness I have stored up will transfer into her limbs and help her fall asleep.

So, last week, I found myself laying in her fancied-up double bed one evening (with regular pink polka-dotted sheet hung as a canopy), face down, with my left foot touching her right foot, hoping to help her transition to bedtime. She was talking, giggling, moving, and curious about how the whole Momma's Sleep Power thing can work. Finally she says "But mom, if we touch long enough, and I get some of your sleep magic, will you also end up getting some of my crazy bean?" Wow. I hadn't thought of the feet-touching experiment as a potential two-way street, where I share some gene of mine with her and she, in turn, shares some gene with me.

What is the crazy bean gene, you may ask? Well, it certainly comes from DT and it is closely related to the "can't fall asleep gene," and demonstrated by the following five vignettes.

This get-up, which is how she came downstairs on Saturday morning:

Her sudden appearance, screaming and stomping, from her room last Saturday night around 11 pm, shouting that she had stuck a woodchip too far up her nose. Yes, a wood chip. (Apparently she hadn't been sleeping for the previous hour and a half, but instead playing in her closet. With her nose.) I was so close to asking her "what the f***?", but instead proceeded along a calmer line of questioning to identify what the "woodchip" looked like, whether her nose hurt, how she actually pushed this item up her nostrils, etc. DT fetched three different size flashlights to look up her nose and saw nothing. The key for me was when she asked "are we going to have to call 911?" Hmmmm. Odd question. And it reminded me that she had asked earlier in the day about 911, and that they had a little lesson in school about emergencies. So, even though DT's Google search for "kid sticks item up nose" produced lots of advice that parents should take the child to the ER immediately to avoid any infection, we decided it was all too possible that our drama queen was making this up just to see what the 911 thing was all about ( especially since we don't keep woodchips in her closet). And we did nothing. That was a week ago and so far, so good. (Though, now that I think about it, how would I know if the inside of her nose was infected?)

Tonight little miss Crazy Bean Fairy Princess declared that our "door to nowhere" (sorry if you haven't been to our house) was actually a door to an elevator full of princesses that could take you anywhere in the house and all the buttons were pictures of princesses.

Also today, when DT asked Maria what "cool" meant, she gave this list of synonyms: "Cool is kind of like pretty, which is kind of like awesome, which is basically Spiderman."

And finally, on the first of my three attempts to tuck her in tonight, she put a hand on either side of my face and tilted it to the side before kissing me smack on the lips and saying "just like Jasmine and Aladdin."

Little David has plenty of Crazy Bean in him too, but that's not what this video is about. Instead, it shows you that he finally says his own name. (He started just before Memorial Day.) Up until now he seemed entirely unaware that he was the protagonist in his own story.

[He usually responds that I am Mama, but the camera must have been too much pressure.]

Also in David news, all his teeth have finally come in. Woo hooo! And he is communicating more and more each day. Here is a (longer) video, showing off his knowledge of some colors and his appropriate responses to one of his favorite books (read by Maria):

The Crazy Bean comes in a little in this video when David's attention span can't make it to the fifth, and penultimate, page of the book. Ah yes, but variety is the spice of life. This little Sleep Princess is off to bed!

Holding Air

2010-05-21T09:10:00.008-05:00

It is almost a month after the fact, but we finally have Maria's VERY FIRST DANCE RECITAL (in condensed version) to share with you!

Here is a section where the girls impress you with their French, and the fact that they are not whacking each other in the face despite standing a little toooooooo close:

And here is Maria's (shy) free-styling solo, but she deserves big props for dancing a full ninety seconds in front of about 25 grown ups (mostly strangers):

The recital was the end of dance class until next fall, and we chose soccer to fill the void. After five weeks, I can say that soccer has involved significantly more tears than dance. The first week, Maria bonked heads with Audrey and they both cried for the rest of the practice. Then last week, Maria was frustrated that she hasn't scored any goals during the scrimmages and became a puddle of tears and statements like "I am not good at soccer."

We bring David to soccer practice too, since it's right before dinner. He never cries -- except when we make him leave. David LOVES soccer and tries to master what the coach is teaching. If you give him a soccer ball and tell him to show you the "airplane stop," he will happily oblige:
[this is a grainy cell phone pic of Davy's airplane stop, but he was not willing to show me it with the requisite arms straight out]

In other fun news, David is moving into three-word phrases. The first time we introduced popsicles for the summer, David watched Maria eat hers and mimicked her actions. When she finished (and he was still working on a melting sticky mess), he announced "all done Ria!" He also loves to give us objects and say "here you go."

DT and I both have a list full of other things to share, but we'll save them for next time.

Reality Bites

2010-04-28T22:04:00.003-05:00

In late March, Maria's teacher pulled DT aside at pick up time to say that there had been a very serious incident at school that day. An anonymous "friend" had pulled down his/her pants and wiggled his/her naked butt in Maria's face. The teacher was very sorry and said the offending child had to write Maria an apology. Sure enough, there was a note in Maria's cubby saying: "I am sorry I was disrespectful. I will be a better friend." So intriguing!!! What could possibly have happened at school to make a child moon Maria?? [And, if it was a boy, did Maria make any inappropriate comments about "hoses" or "tubes" like she does about David?]

We turned to our only eye witness, Maria, for more information. "Maria, did anything odd happen at school today?" "Nope." "Who wrote you this note?" "I don't know." "Did anyone pull down their pants today?" "No." It was as if: a) the bare butt absolutely didn't faze her; or b) she and the anonymous "friend" had agreed to a code of silence. Finally, after a long dinner deposition, DT found out the anonymous friend was Audrey. After calling Audrey's parents for the 411, we found out that Audrey's side of the story is Maria mooned Audrey first...naturally.

In early April, DT arrived at day care to pick up the kids and found Maria in tears. "They won't let me play with my best friend Audrey ever again," she sobbed. Maria's teachers were vague, but they said that Maria and Audrey got all "Mean Girls" on some other children and were separated for the rest of the day as punishment. When confronted with this information, Maria declared "the other kids were mean to us first...they were...biting us."

The most recent antics involve Audrey only as a bit player. This time, when DT picked up Maria, the teacher told him that Maria had gotten in trouble for stealing a "friend's" shoes and then punching that same friend in the stomach. (Huh? Punching someone in the stomach? Does she even know how to make a fist? Should we sign her up for boxing instead of U4 soccer?) So, DT participated in a "talk" with the teacher and Maria about how important it is to be respectful and nice to other children. After the talk, Maria told DT her scrubbed and polished version of events: "Actually Dad, I found some shoes that didn't belong to anybody. They were NO ONE'S. So, I wanted to put them somewhere safe. And I put them in a cubby far away. Then, later, I was getting ready to give Audrey a hug. I put my hands into fists and opened my arms really, really wide to give Audrey a big hug, and when I opened my arms I accidently hit [anonymous friend] in the stomach. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT."

Yesterday she announced that her class had gone to an ice cream shop for a field trip. When I pointed out that I hadn't signed a permission trip for an ice cream shop or given money for a cone, she was incensed. [This story is important so that you know she doesn't just fib to hide bad behavior, but she likes to make up stories in general. Tonight she told me she was going to marry both Audrey and Sean. When I asked what happened to Jack M., she said he's marrying Maverick.]

Somewhere, between the teachers' stories and Maria's lies the truth...which makes it hard to figure out how to respond to the behavior -- both the potential meanness to other kids and the lying.

[DT's inital response was to warn Maria: "your mom can always tell when someone's lying." That's all fine until she called my bluff at dinner: "Mom, did I eat all my broccoli?" Crap! How many florets did I give her? Are there more on David's tray than last time I looked? Any secret stash under the chair? My supposed super powers were not up to the warp speed broccoli investigation, so I went with "no" on pure intuition and was right. That won't hold up very long, though and then Maria will know for sure she can pull the wool over our eyes.]

While we puzzle over what to tell Maria, we at least have settled on what to tell ourselves: lying is one manifestation of her brilliance! A developmental psychologist has concluded :
"All the skills that you need that are very important for positive development are skills that can be used to tell a lie. So what you have is that it really is a marker of increased cognitive sophistication in children's development and in their complexity of thought." [The researcher is from Canada so it *must* be true.]

Savoring Spring

2010-04-18T21:44:00.004-05:00

Today was a beautiful, sunny day and the last day (phew!) of DT's "birthday week." Here are the kids, showing off haircuts, backup glasses, a Boynton book, a new dress and the tulips that our friend Dave planted for us!

A.K.A

2010-04-14T21:21:00.002-05:00

David's street names (well, in his case his playground names) are:

THE JUICER
He refuses to eat any kind of fruit pulp. Let's say I peel an orange and give David slices. David will put as many slices in his mouth as he can fit, chomp them up until he has sucked all moisture from them but eaten none of the stringy, fibrous, or difficult to chew portions, and then pull those fibrous parts out of his mouth. He then divides the tray of his high chair between the to-be-eaten pile, and the previously-juiced pile. Here is an example of this tactic with watermelon:

THE DESTROYER
He destroyed a floor lamp before he could talk. He regularly destroys Duplo structures and puzzles that Maria is building. He has ripped out every pop-up animal and element of fancy paper engineering present in his books. And today, he broke not one but two pairs of Maria's glasses. (The day before her school pictures! Argh.) If it can be destroyed, David will find a way. Here is a very cute dump truck that David got on Easter and destroyed in less than one week:

It's not intentional, by the way. He was very sad about the dump truck (and we will try and fix it with wood glue). He just doesn't know his own strength.

THE MONKEY
We are now on Homeless Shelter 2.0, designed with shorter cardboard walls that are on the exterior, not interior, of the wooden slats. Thankfully we realized he was able to climb out of 1.0 (by using the edge of the cardboard box as a stepladder) before he toppled onto his head again.

Maria's nicknames I must say are less Mafioso and more Regular-o. In addition to Tortilla (rhymes with Maria), Mimi (given to her by Audrey), and MARIAB (she never uses spaces or punctation to sign her drawings Maria B), the only nickname not connected to her given name is the one I have taken to calling her: "Walks Like Elephant."

A story that does not fit in today's theme: Maria woke up crying hard from a nightmare two nights ago. I asked her what was so scary and she said "you were (sniffle) serrrrrvvvvving shepherd's piiiiiiiieeeee and I (yelp) didn't get some."

Things Fall Apart

2010-04-09T09:02:00.007-05:00

Here is a list of our trusted machines that have conked out on us in the past ten days:

-our home computer;
-DT's car (not unexpected, since it's 14 years old);
-our baby monitor (instead of hearing David chatting, we just hear clicking); and
-our DVD player (also not entirely surprising given that we bought it for about $40, but frustrating still when it just keeps flashing "no disc").

So, our savings are taking a bit of a hit this month. On the plus side, I will get to tell DT that I bought him a new (used) car for his birthday! (He turns 29 next week! Again!) If Maria has her way, though, it will be a purple cadillac. She saw one in Consumer Reports' guide to used cars and has been jonesing for it ever since.

Of course, DT is convinced that we are experiencing these problems as a direct result of statements he wrote on this blog (two posts ago). He is sure that as soon as he typed "A new era has dawned. We have stabilized", the Universe collectively shouted "JINX!" and made all our machines fall apart.

Despite that recent experience with Karma, I am daring to tell you about another very positive development. Maria has been without her pacifier for three nights in a row!! The past two weeks we went to an every-other-day Nuk schedule (her idea, an excellent example of her negotiation skills), but now we've been Nukky free three straight nights. We are very proud of her. We are also tempted to give her the darn Nuk back. Turns out that when she doesn't have a pacifier, she doesn't know how to fall asleep. She was up until 10 pm last night! And then crawled into bed with us at 6 am. Yikes.

Speaking of Maria, here is an example of her improved ability to color in the lines and her lovely choices of color. (She demanded that I hang it up at work -- so here it is proudly hung on the nameplate outside my office door.)

On the David front, here are the words we forgot to include in his vocabulary list last time, or that he's learned since then:
Brush
wash
Orange
Paste
Thank you
Down
Juice
Car
Elmo
Hug
Hat
Owl (whoo whooo)
Step
Work
Come
Baby
Button
peekaboo

Have a great weekend everyone! Wish us luck with the car shopping!

post script: here's our new car! We bought a Honda Accord on Saturday and officially kicked off DT's birthday week:

Any suggestions for names?? We usually go with alliteration; our Outback is "Oscar."

Mrs. Crotch and the Cardboard Box

2010-03-29T20:58:00.008-05:00

I mentioned disasters in the last post. Within two days of that post, we had another. David managed to pull himself up and over the top of the crib. We don’t really know how he did it or how he landed because MT had just turned her back to grab some clothes out of the closet. (I had an alibi: I was driving to Duluth for a hearing and wasn’t within 100 miles of “the scene of the disaster.”*) When she heard the thump and turned around, David was on his back, understandably freaking out. He had a bump on his forehead that was already raised and discolored. He calmed down after a few minutes and was shuffled off to school like nothing happened.

*Kid references now populate my brain like Zebra mussels or Asian carp or emerald ash borers, invasive species slowly creeping into our neighborhoods and lakes, suffocating the more proper Midwestern life. 10 points to anyone who knows the reference above. It’s not just me, MT was in the middle of settlement negotiations the other day and an Asian carp jumped into her head: all she could think was this line from Maria’s favorite movie: “If I can’t have your money, I can still bag your bunny!” It’s an obscure reference anywhere but in our house, where we watch “Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbit” every week.

I was able to swing by Home Depot on the way home from Duluth to grab some large cardboard boxes and Maria and I set up a perfect barrier, with the mattress now on the floor. Maria enjoyed this project immensely as she understood its importance and as it required an entire roll of clear duct tape and a “box cutter,” her word, not mine. I’ve always referred to these as an exacto knife or razor blade. My 4-year-old daughter must have learned “box cutter” from day care. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, right?

So, I present the finished product:

MT says I built David a homeless shelter. But, vagabond or not, now David can’t possibly climb out. Our nighttime routine goes from diaper change and pajamas, to books, to lullabies and shushing with his head nestled on your shoulder, to an awkward dangling followed by a 6 inch drop. “Sweet dreams, little guy. Mommy loves you.” Thud.
That’s how most people like to spend St. Patrick’s Day, a time honored tradition of making a cardboard box for your baby to sleep in.

In other news, Maria has taken to not wearing any pajamas, just her underwear at night. She keeps a set of pajamas next to her pillow, “just in case I get cold.” In reality, she knows that she’ll get bored soon after we leave her for the night. So she likes to have an activity that she can look forward to, and she makes sure that she has the pajamas to put on and take off as her restless energy slowly gives way to sleep. By the morning, she sometimes has just pajamas on, sometimes just underwear, sometimes underwear on top of the pajamas, sometimes none of the above. Saint Patrick’s Day was apparently in the none of the above category. When MT opened her door to rouse her from bed, she looked at MT, serious as she could be, a worried look in her eye and asked, “Mom, I’m not wearing any clothes and my green shirt is over there. Am I going to get pinched before I get it on??”

The other day as we were going home from day care, Maria was telling me about her day. She started telling about her new friend. So I asked her what her friend’s name was. Her answer: some kind of nonsense word that sounded an awful lot like “crotch.” As I laughed and said, “Wait, your friend’s name is crotch?” she got upset, scolding me by saying, “Dad, don’t laugh. It’s my friend’s name.” I just said, “OK,” and muttered to myself, “I think your friend better get used to it.” Then Maria said that her friend was really her mom. “Yep. Mom is Mrs. Crotch,” she declared. Maybe that should be my fantasy baseball team’s name: Crotch Mamas.

One more piece of wisdom from our daughter: “If you start laughing while you are eating food, then little bits of food shoots out of your mouth like rocket ships, covered in spit.” This is true.

Last item: David milestone update. David had his 18-month check-up the day after he climbed out of the crib (by then the bump was barely noticeable). While the kid throws balls (and now dribbles and catches them, too!) like he’s Peyton, I fear he’ll end up a tad shy of Peyton’s 6-5 frame. David checked in at only 31.5 inches, or the 26th percentile. Short. Short and stout - his 27 pounds is good for the 64th percentile and his head is an appropriately sized 41st percentile. Maybe no NFL career, but he will make an adorable tea pot.

David has mastered new sounds, notably a “J” sound and a “K” sound, so “booht” is now “book” and “duht” is “duck.” “Cat” is still “dat” for some reason, and he has a hard time with “L’s.” His all-purpose substitute sound is usually “d” as “light” is pronounced “dight.” MT and I put together a list of his words at 18 months, a list growing by the day and by the house guest (David loves learning the names of house guests):
all done (“ah-duh”)
apple (“ah-PO”)
applesauce (“apsaw”)
baa (sheep noise)
Baba (MT’s dad)
bath (“bathhhhh”)
ball (“baw”)
bee
bed
birdie (“boo-ddeee”)
book
bubble (“bubbo”)
bunny
button
bye-bye
car
cat (“dat” usually)
catch
Chiara (His cousin, pronounced “Ra-ra”)
cheese
cup
Dada (sometimes just “Dah” for short)
doggie
duck
foot
good night (“ni-ni”)
grampa (sometimes “gampa”)
green
hello (Hey-yo)
hush (“hushhhh,” as in the little old rabbit lady who is whispering “hush, hush, hush”)
Jackie (my sister, pronounced like “Djaggie”)
light (“dight”)
Mama
Maria (“Ria” sometimes)
milk (“milt”)
mine (mah”)
moo (you know, cows)
moon
more (“mo”)
Nana (MT’s stepmom)
no no (never just one “no”)
off (“offfffffff”)
“Ouwwie” (this is used for “uppie,” “ouchie,” and “help me”)
please (“pees”)
pizza (“pZAH”)
poop (accompanied by butt-pointing and a “something’s wrong” face)
quack quack
rock
shoe (“sooo”)
sock (“yock”)
turtle
up
yeah (sometimes “yuh”)
yellow (that’s “yayo”)
yuck