Random Question Thursday
Mine's Jack Johnson ...
How could I NOT be distantly in awe of a guy who wrote: “Our dreams are made of real things, like a shoebox full of photographs.”
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The morning commute still went without a hitch, but it makes me kinda sad that I won't get to do the read, tuck and kiss tonight.
Nevertheless, Jed's trying
to show me up to impress the kids -- and in doing so eventually get them to go to bed without too much fuss -- by picking them up in the crane truck for the evening commute.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
My father called me one evening last week, a little while after the kids had gone to bed, to warn me of something he had done that *could, potentially, perhaps, most likely, but maybe not* cause a problem. It was something he thought that I should know about so I could be on lookout for trouble …
Yeah, neither did I.
What could possibly be WORSE than teaching a then-three-year-old to open the refrigerator by herself? … Or swing down the staircase one step at a time holding on to the handrail? … Or to unlatch her own seatbelt? What could be worse than realizing she’d dialed Guam instead of Gram when the phone bill arrives?
PAPA: “Well, I let her use a sharp knife to cut carrots and strawberries. …
Then there was a pause …
PAPA: “… by herself. … But I told her she’s NOT to try it without mom or dad watching.”
ME: “Oh … I’m not worried,” I lied, thinking immediately of the scar I’d gotten while trying to cut apples when I was seven – two years older than Ittybit.
PAPA: “She was so pleased with herself.”
I was thinking of this little exchange Sunday evening as we were returning home from the second of two weekend parties for newly five-year-old friends.
ME: “I have a great idea!” I said with the borrowed enthusiasm of a game-show host. “Why don’t YOU make dinner tonight?”
I’m guessing now the lack of response was the disbelief that some unmentioned DREAM was FINALLY coming true, because when we got home she went straight to work …
Assembling leftovers from the refrigerator into one of the most artful (not to mention tasty) meals ever served in our home.
And then, while I was putting Silas to sleep, she decided to tackle dessert: “Sliced Strawberries on Oreos.”
Yet, because I wasn’t watching, the knife she used to slice the strawberries was of the butter variety.
Now I know I’m biased, but I don't think you can blame me for thinking she really is the best.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
How did you celebrate Earth Day?
We didn't really celebrate Earth Day yesterday, but this morning we got up so early we had LOTS of time to
AND since we had SO MUCH LUCK with the flower and pumpkin germanation experiment using egg cartons and reclaimed potting soil, we decided to plant the rest of our seed packets -- watermelon, tomatoes, basil, coriander, oregano and parsley -- in a similar manner.
Which leads me to a new feature of Random Question Thursday -- Random BONUS QUESTION Thursday:
What's up with organic eggs sold in plastic containers, anyway?
Me thinks we should be working on lowering our consumption for Earth Day next year.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
“If you don’t stop fighting this instant, I’m going to pull the car over and put you both out!”
Well, a well-heeled Scarsdale mother gave those usually empty words teeth earlier this week when she pulled her vehicle over in a White Plains business district, three miles from home, and ordered her bickering children (10- and 12-year-old girls) to exit the car and then drove off.
It would seem almost comical to me — a person who throughout her own formative years heard that same threat enough to ignore it without even batting an eye — except that the mother was subsequently arrested and issued a restraining order requiring she have no contact with the kids, who were unharmed by the event.
And then parents, who were asked to comment for follow-up news stories, came out in droves to say what a different world it is today; and how, even though they empathize with the mom's frustrations, they themselves could never actually drive away.
It’s impossible to glean details from published reports as to where the girls were left — along a highway or in a strip mall — or whether the mother came back to get them. Some broadcast reports have the 12-year-old running after the car and being allowed back in, while the 10 year-old was found crying by strangers, who contacted police. Regardless, I just can’t understand how anyone would waste the court’s time with such a case.
This is where I launch into the bit about when I was 10 years old I was riding my bike, helmetless, five miles along narrow, winding roads to a friend’s house and back.
(I’ll spare you the tale of it being uphill both ways.)
I realize there are SO MANY PEOPLE who think things are different these days; and that people are different and can’t be trusted. And that cars are different, and too big. And that drivers have really bad peripheral vision and virtually no spot in the back window that isn’t blind, not to mention that they are always on their cell phones … or texting anyway; doing anything, but paying attention to the road.
Let's not forget about about the abandonment issues.
These poor, sad children ... with their ipods and cell phones, living in tony neighborhoods ... with a frazzled and ineffective mother.
To have their mother drive away is just cruel proof she doesn’t love them.
Yes. It’s probably best she was arrested and that a restraining order was issued and that she was barred from seeing them until the matter can be sorted out by one of the more underworked case managers in the system.
Unless, of course, the kids had had a cell phone …
and could have called their dad. …
Or a cab.
Or if they didn't, (gasp) maybe they could have stuck together ...
and looked out for one another.
I forgot. We don't do that anymore.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
What's been bugging you?
I've been almost completely consumed with trying to find out what these little flowers, the first to really show up in spring here in the northeast, are called.
In some places they can appear as a carpet of blue.
I finally took this picture and
asked begged the interwebs to tell me.
Thanks, Niall. I'll sleep better tonight ... (After I take an antihistamine, of course).
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
What's your new favorite thing?
The Champ, as you can see, has found the window sill a delightful place to watch the "gucks" pull in and out of the plumbing contractor's facility next door. As soon as he hears the heavily, metalic squeal of breaks he makes a break for the window.
Ittybit's new favorite thing involves movies ... Nim's Island, Kung Fu Panda, and Barbie "classics"** have all made it into the top rotation. As has popcorn with "real" butter "not that fake stuff that dad eats."
My new favorite things are Target coffee and pestering Jed to make another window guard.
** Here's the story behind the Barbie "classics" bruhaha: I promised Annabel a DVD of her choice (because she was getting the dark side of a promise) and during a tearful phone call she came up with "Barbie and the Joker." As I was frantically searching the internet for such an unfathomable title, I skeptically asked her to describe the movie. ...
"You know ... it's the movie about two Barbies and a guy who's a joker. I saw it at Emma's house."
Thinking ... thinking.
"Do you mean "Princess and the Pauper?"
"Oh, MOM! That's it! You're right! For once in your life, you were right!"
I started to chuckle and the conversation became a two-way over on the sitter's end: "Oh Annabel that's not nice. Appologize to Mom!"
"But she's laughing ... "
Despite being on the phone, I could feel Lori's glare.
"I'm sorry, mom."
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The weekend came and went with a huff of wind and steady rain.
Sunday afternoon Silas was feeling, what I now believe, was the final effects of a lingering cold ... he was warm to the touch, feverish and tired.
We spent the afternoon on the couch, as we've spend many days of late. He slept while I reheated my coffee more times than I care to admit and watched Sandra Bullock be impossibly cute from 1990 until whenever she made "Miss Congeniality." (DAMN YOU, HBO!)
Come Monday he was still warm and his sister overslept, which is a sign - at least in my experience of childhood - that rest is probably the best plan.
So we stayed home, watched TV, decorated Easter Eggs and generally took time to not do much at all.
I'm not sure such days are good for the mental health, though.
It seems I do less and less and the kids get older.
I don't comb my hair. I steer clear of the mirror and the bathroom scale. I don't want to see how "I've let myself go."
My knee hurts when it rains. When did that start?
I want a warm day so I can go out and be in the world again.
Yet, I know once the warm days lead to hot ones I'll be hiding back inside. Not wanting to move. Not wanting to think about all that has to get done; all that I should want to do.
I'm ready, and waiting, for spring. I need to thaw into forward momentum.
Friday, April 3, 2009
You picked out your clothes today; or more to the point you nodded your head in approval as your dad held up various items from which you could choose. Your dad chuckled that the multi-colored pants you selected had the face of Winnie the Pooh stitched to the bum.
He finds that kind of thing funny.
I find nothing strange in such a choice, however, especially now that your displeasure in getting dressed at all is backed by a growth spurt that has given your wiggle more weight. Everyone can use a soft landing now that the Terrible Twos have begun their approach, what better way than with a bear who's stuffed with fluff?
Looking at you now, I find it hard to remember the six-pound baby we brought home nearly two years ago.
Back then you looked so frail, so vulnerable.
Right now you are a tough cookie with a penchant for repeating the last word of anything anyone says aloud.
"Do you want some snack?"
"Where are your trucks?"
"Where is your Dappa John?"
Well ... most of the time:
"I think you need a diaper change .."
And your "terrible twos" are evident:
So far this month,
* My new video camera met its demise at the bottom of the dog's water bowl.
* Some haberdashery belonging to your sister’s Polly Pocket dolls mysteriously found its way into our septic system … or so we believe.
* Stray rocks have begun collecting in the end pipes of the gutters.
* Most of the food you are give gets thoroughly masticated and then returned to the plate (or deposited in random locations throughout the house).
* You’ve begun sounding a little like the seagulls in the movie “Finding Nemo” … Mine! Mine! Mine!
* And "NO!" … is beginning to mean NO!
Things are really quite different this time around, though. The terrible twos for the second child, in our case, will probably be magnified by the fact that our routine isn't what anyone would consider routine.
Breakfast for you typically means sitting on your father's lap and eating every other spoonful.
Dinner often gets left on the plate or fed to the dog.
Bedtime usually consists of you dragging your dad into our bedroom yelling "BOND! BOND!" Because you have gotten into the habit of hanging out with your dad as he watches Double-O-Seven renew his License to Kill while I read bedtime stories to your sister.
I keep thinking when you have normal a room, you'll have a normal routine. (If normal is even possible in our house as long as we reside there).
We'll get there, somehow.
I'm not worried. Much.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009