E has discovered the joys of chocolate and I allow a bit of indulgence every now and then (once every couple of weeks seems to satisfy him). I bought a bag of fun size M&Ms for Halloween and let him have a bag for his afternoon snack on Saturdays or Sundays. But I am a mean mommy (so some have said). I make him work for his chocolate treat. My sister calls it a performance. Whatever anyone else calls it he thinks of it as a game.
Measure Up cups are a wonderful thing. They are a set of 12 cups in 4 colors and they stack on top of or nest inside one another. They are the perfect tool for toddler torture. I put the 4 largest cups in front of E along with 3 small clear ziploc resealable containers. He takes the M&Ms one by one and sorts them by color into the cups. Reds into the red cup. Blues into the blue cup. Yellows into the yellow cup. Greens into the green cup. The orange and brown ones go into clear cups. The third clear cup is for Ritz crackers which are wonderful with chocolate.
Once he has them all sorted we look into the cups and figure out which one has the most, sometimes we count generally we just look, and he eats those first.
I brought the cups with us on vacation and told my dad how to play E's M&M game. He modified it for grandparenting. He set out the 4 colored cups and nixed the clear ones all together along with the crackers. E sorted the red ones, the green ones, the yellow ones and the blue ones and when he came to an orange one he looked at my dad as if to say 'where do I put this one?' PawPaw told him it goes in his mouth. I'm sorry I missed the look of pure joy by father saw.
After we returned from our trip I was putting away dishes and E was helping (he puts his plates, bowls and cups in the lowest drawers). He found one of the clear containers we use for the M&M game and he held it up to show me "Chocolate cup Mommy!"
Thursday, November 11, 2004
car trips
First an apology to my regular readers for the delay in transmission. I have been very busy trying to put my home and life back together after my vacation of a couple of weeks ago that I haven't have time to write. Also the "busy season" (renamed by upper management of Big P Co "The Revenue Season" -- revenue for whom, I see no extra money in my paycheck) is upon us so exhaustion has prohibited me from writing as well.
Now on to the main event.
Car trips have changed a lot from when I was a kid and also since I've had a kid.
When I go on a long car trip one of the things I am sure to bring is a selection of music. This is in stark contrast to the quiet trips of my youth. My parents divored when I was 4 and I lived with my dad growing up. Before the split my sister and I spent a lot of time with mom, who loved elevator music. Popular songs stripped of their lyrics and played on stringed instruments were the perfect accompaniment to any activity. My father thought that was the kind of music we liked and so he refrained from playing music he liked during those early years when our musical tastes should have been forming. Dad was content to listen to anything we played, never showing any emotion over our selections. I was in college when my father's affection for The Beatles and the Greatful Dead was revealed. I wish I had known earlier.
Before E was born I used to gather a bag of tapes for car trips which had to include "Harry Belafonte Live at Carnegie Hall" recorded in 1952 (a classic) and "Tim Curry's Greatest Hits" (a rare find but so much fun to sing along with. "I do the Rock" is a particular favorite.). I would play Belafonte at night and sing at the top of my lungs pretending the headlights of the cars in the other lane were the footlights of Carnegie Hall. I played that tape on a road trip with E's father once and he was ok with the music but was not too appreciative of my singing.
The musical selections for our vacation this fall included the Wiggles, Ralph's World and Disney's Children's Classics. I had some music for me, Harry was there, but I never got to play it.
Another thing changing the face of road trips is our national obsession with safety. Generally I think it's a good thing but others will disagree saying "if someone wants to die of stupidity let them". Seat belts and child saftey seats are required if you want to be toodling around on the roads these days. Not so when I was a kid.
I remember looking out the windows of our speeding car as we passed farms on the way to my grandmother's house. "Cows! Cows! Moo! Moo! Moo!" was the phrase that pays. I tried to teach E this family tradition on our vacation. Dad told he can still see my sister's ruffled butt wiggling as her nose was pressed against the window to see the bovine wonders in the fields. "You'll never get to see that with E." Well, beyond the fact that I would never put ruffled underwear on my boy, no I won't because he is strapped in, locked down and secure. He has never known anything else and I'm glad of it. I believe in seat belts but the idea that he is immobile for so long is a bit sad at times. We took a lot of breaks when he could get out and walk/run around a bit.
With our collective interest in safety I was stunned to see the "safe" construction speed on a Michigan highway posted at 60 mph. Yes you read that right 60. On Michigan highways you don't get too close to on-coming traffic, you are separated by a wooded area. The workers were on the other side of this wooded area. This meant that there was one lane of traffic for each direction separated by a concrete guard. With trees on one side of me and concrete on the other it felt like I was driving in a tube/tunnel/ditch (you pick the scariest one and that's it) and I was driving at 60 mph to avoid being squashed by the big truck behind me. Yikes!
I remember my father grumbling in 1973 when the national speed limit of 55 mph went into effect and I remember him commenting on how much more you got to see on the trip when you weren't driving 70 mph. 70 MPH! In retrospect we are so lucky we never had an accident back then. With 2 kids bouncing around the car yelling "Cows! Cows! Moo! Moo! Moo!" or "Pigs! Pigs! Oink! Oink! Oink!" none of us would have survived any kind of collision.
Now on to the main event.
Car trips have changed a lot from when I was a kid and also since I've had a kid.
When I go on a long car trip one of the things I am sure to bring is a selection of music. This is in stark contrast to the quiet trips of my youth. My parents divored when I was 4 and I lived with my dad growing up. Before the split my sister and I spent a lot of time with mom, who loved elevator music. Popular songs stripped of their lyrics and played on stringed instruments were the perfect accompaniment to any activity. My father thought that was the kind of music we liked and so he refrained from playing music he liked during those early years when our musical tastes should have been forming. Dad was content to listen to anything we played, never showing any emotion over our selections. I was in college when my father's affection for The Beatles and the Greatful Dead was revealed. I wish I had known earlier.
Before E was born I used to gather a bag of tapes for car trips which had to include "Harry Belafonte Live at Carnegie Hall" recorded in 1952 (a classic) and "Tim Curry's Greatest Hits" (a rare find but so much fun to sing along with. "I do the Rock" is a particular favorite.). I would play Belafonte at night and sing at the top of my lungs pretending the headlights of the cars in the other lane were the footlights of Carnegie Hall. I played that tape on a road trip with E's father once and he was ok with the music but was not too appreciative of my singing.
The musical selections for our vacation this fall included the Wiggles, Ralph's World and Disney's Children's Classics. I had some music for me, Harry was there, but I never got to play it.
Another thing changing the face of road trips is our national obsession with safety. Generally I think it's a good thing but others will disagree saying "if someone wants to die of stupidity let them". Seat belts and child saftey seats are required if you want to be toodling around on the roads these days. Not so when I was a kid.
I remember looking out the windows of our speeding car as we passed farms on the way to my grandmother's house. "Cows! Cows! Moo! Moo! Moo!" was the phrase that pays. I tried to teach E this family tradition on our vacation. Dad told he can still see my sister's ruffled butt wiggling as her nose was pressed against the window to see the bovine wonders in the fields. "You'll never get to see that with E." Well, beyond the fact that I would never put ruffled underwear on my boy, no I won't because he is strapped in, locked down and secure. He has never known anything else and I'm glad of it. I believe in seat belts but the idea that he is immobile for so long is a bit sad at times. We took a lot of breaks when he could get out and walk/run around a bit.
With our collective interest in safety I was stunned to see the "safe" construction speed on a Michigan highway posted at 60 mph. Yes you read that right 60. On Michigan highways you don't get too close to on-coming traffic, you are separated by a wooded area. The workers were on the other side of this wooded area. This meant that there was one lane of traffic for each direction separated by a concrete guard. With trees on one side of me and concrete on the other it felt like I was driving in a tube/tunnel/ditch (you pick the scariest one and that's it) and I was driving at 60 mph to avoid being squashed by the big truck behind me. Yikes!
I remember my father grumbling in 1973 when the national speed limit of 55 mph went into effect and I remember him commenting on how much more you got to see on the trip when you weren't driving 70 mph. 70 MPH! In retrospect we are so lucky we never had an accident back then. With 2 kids bouncing around the car yelling "Cows! Cows! Moo! Moo! Moo!" or "Pigs! Pigs! Oink! Oink! Oink!" none of us would have survived any kind of collision.
Aunt G and the big day out
My sister took a day off of work to play with E when we were vacationing in GR. She had a lot of activities planned for him and got to most of them.
She drove him out to her house in the country to have him rake leaves in her yard. She thought it would be fun to have him jump in them. My father had the same idea but he didn't get a chance to get them raked up in time and hadn't considered putting a toddler to work with a rake. This plan didn't pan out too well because my sister has a beagle/basset hound mix and E was afraid of the dog.
Plan B
Aunt G took him to the zoo. The reports my mother got and the ones I got are different but together they paint an interesting picture. According to my mother every animal he saw was a KANGAROO! Though there are no kangaroos at the John Ball Park Zoo, my sister asked. I was told that each sleeping animal was greeted with the same directive. E would pound on the glass with both hands and yell "Wake up Jeff!" For those unfamiliar with the Wiggles Jeff is the one in the purple that sleeps all the time.
My sister is too cool for a diaper bag so she didn't carry it. Half way through the visit she realized how important it is. No Aunt G that wasn't an elephant that was E. She had to walk all the way back to the car to change him. When she got there she decided to take a look in the trunk to see if there was a stroller. An hour of carrying 30+ lbs wiggling boy begins to take its toll.
For lunch she tried to meet me at Yesterdog, with E of course. Yesterdog is to GR what the Billy Goat is to Chicago, only not as fancy or with quite the menu selection. Hot dogs are the only thing you can get there. You can have chili on it as well as relish, ketchup, mustard, onions but that's about it. Soft drinks, bag o' chips, it's lunch or a night cap. They arrived just as my museum friends and I were getting ready to leave. A hello to my friends and a hugga-kissa-cuddle from mommy and Aunt G and E were on there own in a crowded restaurant. E loves hot dogs so I was surprised to hear that he didn't eat any hot dog but just nibbled on a bun. (The dogs weren't that good that day anyway.)
That evening we all gathered at my dad's house to celebrate my sister's birthday. We were nearly a month late but there were gifts from us and my mother and we had Aunt G's traditional birthday pudding (she don't like cake). It was a nice finish to a good day.
She drove him out to her house in the country to have him rake leaves in her yard. She thought it would be fun to have him jump in them. My father had the same idea but he didn't get a chance to get them raked up in time and hadn't considered putting a toddler to work with a rake. This plan didn't pan out too well because my sister has a beagle/basset hound mix and E was afraid of the dog.
Plan B
Aunt G took him to the zoo. The reports my mother got and the ones I got are different but together they paint an interesting picture. According to my mother every animal he saw was a KANGAROO! Though there are no kangaroos at the John Ball Park Zoo, my sister asked. I was told that each sleeping animal was greeted with the same directive. E would pound on the glass with both hands and yell "Wake up Jeff!" For those unfamiliar with the Wiggles Jeff is the one in the purple that sleeps all the time.
My sister is too cool for a diaper bag so she didn't carry it. Half way through the visit she realized how important it is. No Aunt G that wasn't an elephant that was E. She had to walk all the way back to the car to change him. When she got there she decided to take a look in the trunk to see if there was a stroller. An hour of carrying 30+ lbs wiggling boy begins to take its toll.
For lunch she tried to meet me at Yesterdog, with E of course. Yesterdog is to GR what the Billy Goat is to Chicago, only not as fancy or with quite the menu selection. Hot dogs are the only thing you can get there. You can have chili on it as well as relish, ketchup, mustard, onions but that's about it. Soft drinks, bag o' chips, it's lunch or a night cap. They arrived just as my museum friends and I were getting ready to leave. A hello to my friends and a hugga-kissa-cuddle from mommy and Aunt G and E were on there own in a crowded restaurant. E loves hot dogs so I was surprised to hear that he didn't eat any hot dog but just nibbled on a bun. (The dogs weren't that good that day anyway.)
That evening we all gathered at my dad's house to celebrate my sister's birthday. We were nearly a month late but there were gifts from us and my mother and we had Aunt G's traditional birthday pudding (she don't like cake). It was a nice finish to a good day.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Ch...Ch...Ch....Changes
In 1987 at 5:15pm on any day of the week downtown Grand Rapids, MI was a ghost town. I was an impatient 22 year old and I moved to Chicago soon after graduating from Grand Valley State College (now University, the feelings of bastardizartion are not mine alone but that is a blog for another day) because I longed for nightlife and cultural activities like museums and theatre and the choices for all these things were limited, to say the least, in Grand Rapids.
I returned to Grand Rapids for the Midwest Museum Conference last week and was amazed at the changes. There are loads of things to do now. There are a lot of bars and restaurants downtown and cultural options are spread out all over town.
You can visit the Gerald R Ford Museum or the new (9 year old) Van Andel Museum Center on the banks of the Grand River. The Public Museum in the Van Andel Museum Center is beautiful and has several wonderful exhibits, I especially like the furniture exhibit.
The Grand Rapids Art Museum (http://www.gramonline.org/) now known as "The GRAM" has began construction on a new, larger building for its art museum collection in mid-2004. The new building site is several blocks from the present museum, facing downtown's Rosa Parks Circle. Rosa Parks Circle is new to me.
The Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculture Park, which opened a handful of years ago, is now one of Grand Rapids' premier attractions. The 125 acre park features the 24-foot bronze da Vinci Horse as well as sculptures by renowned artists including Claes Oldenburg. Also featured are a conservatory, amphitheater, farm garden, library and several galleries with changing exhibits. They've come a long way since the installation of the fish ladder on the Grand River.
The Grand Rapids Children's Museum and the Spectrum Theater are new to me. The Spectrum Theatre (http://web.grcc.cc.mi.us/Theater/spectrumnew.htm) includes all the lastest technological amenities necessary to produce over a dozen productions a year for the GRCC Players, Actors' Theatre, Jewish Theatre Grand Rapids, and the Heritage Theatre Group. The theater has also housed numerous special events like the Grand Awards, Opera Grand Rapids' "The Fall of the House of Usher", "Critical Mass" (college poets' union version of Woodstock), and dance presentations.
The Urban Institute for Contemporary Art (http://www.uica.org/) presents innovative and diverse programs in dance, film, music, literature, performing and visual arts. Wish I had know about this stuff in college.
I was impresssed when I heard the news that The Grand Rapids Symphony (http://www.grsymphony.org/) will be playing at Carnegie Hall, of "practice, practice, practice" fame.
Grand Rapids even has sports teams to cheer on now. There's an arena football team, the Grand Rapids Rampage and the Grand Rapids Griffins hockey team. Baseball fans can cheer on the West Michigan Whitecaps. The Whitecaps of the Midwest League are the Class A affiliate of the Detroit Tigers.
Some things haven't changed though. Yesterdog, a funky hot dog stand with a great display of old ad signs is still doing good business. I was glad to see the weatherball is back. It was dismantled in the mid 80s and I was sad to see it go. I liked seeing the neon forecaster. Knowing what the weather was going to be like in GR meant being able to memorize a short poem:
Weatherball red, warmer ahead.
Weatherball blue, cooler in view.
Weatherball green, no change foreseen.
Colors blinking bright, rain or snow in sight.
Weatherball black nuclear attack
The 'adults' didn't appreciate it when we added the last line in the early 80s.
There are still stretches of urban blight featuring old homes in various states of disrepair.
There was also the old familiar feeling of being left out. I don't work in a museum and at times that difference made me feel like the ugly girl alone at the dance. I've never liked that feeling but it's been around since that first high school dance.
I returned to Grand Rapids for the Midwest Museum Conference last week and was amazed at the changes. There are loads of things to do now. There are a lot of bars and restaurants downtown and cultural options are spread out all over town.
You can visit the Gerald R Ford Museum or the new (9 year old) Van Andel Museum Center on the banks of the Grand River. The Public Museum in the Van Andel Museum Center is beautiful and has several wonderful exhibits, I especially like the furniture exhibit.
The Grand Rapids Art Museum (http://www.gramonline.org/) now known as "The GRAM" has began construction on a new, larger building for its art museum collection in mid-2004. The new building site is several blocks from the present museum, facing downtown's Rosa Parks Circle. Rosa Parks Circle is new to me.
The Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculture Park, which opened a handful of years ago, is now one of Grand Rapids' premier attractions. The 125 acre park features the 24-foot bronze da Vinci Horse as well as sculptures by renowned artists including Claes Oldenburg. Also featured are a conservatory, amphitheater, farm garden, library and several galleries with changing exhibits. They've come a long way since the installation of the fish ladder on the Grand River.
The Grand Rapids Children's Museum and the Spectrum Theater are new to me. The Spectrum Theatre (http://web.grcc.cc.mi.us/Theater/spectrumnew.htm) includes all the lastest technological amenities necessary to produce over a dozen productions a year for the GRCC Players, Actors' Theatre, Jewish Theatre Grand Rapids, and the Heritage Theatre Group. The theater has also housed numerous special events like the Grand Awards, Opera Grand Rapids' "The Fall of the House of Usher", "Critical Mass" (college poets' union version of Woodstock), and dance presentations.
The Urban Institute for Contemporary Art (http://www.uica.org/) presents innovative and diverse programs in dance, film, music, literature, performing and visual arts. Wish I had know about this stuff in college.
I was impresssed when I heard the news that The Grand Rapids Symphony (http://www.grsymphony.org/) will be playing at Carnegie Hall, of "practice, practice, practice" fame.
Grand Rapids even has sports teams to cheer on now. There's an arena football team, the Grand Rapids Rampage and the Grand Rapids Griffins hockey team. Baseball fans can cheer on the West Michigan Whitecaps. The Whitecaps of the Midwest League are the Class A affiliate of the Detroit Tigers.
Some things haven't changed though. Yesterdog, a funky hot dog stand with a great display of old ad signs is still doing good business. I was glad to see the weatherball is back. It was dismantled in the mid 80s and I was sad to see it go. I liked seeing the neon forecaster. Knowing what the weather was going to be like in GR meant being able to memorize a short poem:
Weatherball red, warmer ahead.
Weatherball blue, cooler in view.
Weatherball green, no change foreseen.
Colors blinking bright, rain or snow in sight.
Weatherball black nuclear attack
The 'adults' didn't appreciate it when we added the last line in the early 80s.
There are still stretches of urban blight featuring old homes in various states of disrepair.
There was also the old familiar feeling of being left out. I don't work in a museum and at times that difference made me feel like the ugly girl alone at the dance. I've never liked that feeling but it's been around since that first high school dance.
know your readers
This is good advice for writers, something they hear again and again if only in their own heads. Generally "know your readers" is knowing in a general way. It's demographic information like level of education, income level and interest in fly fishing or devotion to macrame. Then there's psychographic information: the characteristics of an audience based in ideology, values, beliefs and attitudes.
I know my readers. I have their addresses and phone numbers. I've met their Catholic mothers. I know one dislikes chocolate and another won't eat anything green (except iceberg lettuce).
This level of "knowing" becomes an editing tool. A censor of sorts. I watch my language, I am careful that my blog is not too dark or personal. I stay on topic. Disturbing dreams that would make for very interesting reading are not revealed. And of course I watch my grammar, it's what you do when one of you most devoted readers in an English teacher.
Having devoted readers is very cool. Feeling that my son and I are cared about is even cooler. I really appreciate that you are there. Thanks Miss S and Aunt P.
It makes me wonder though. Are there any other readers? Am I writing this just for 2 people? If you read this blog with any regularity or are here for the first time please let me know, hit the comment link.
Happy Halloween
I know my readers. I have their addresses and phone numbers. I've met their Catholic mothers. I know one dislikes chocolate and another won't eat anything green (except iceberg lettuce).
This level of "knowing" becomes an editing tool. A censor of sorts. I watch my language, I am careful that my blog is not too dark or personal. I stay on topic. Disturbing dreams that would make for very interesting reading are not revealed. And of course I watch my grammar, it's what you do when one of you most devoted readers in an English teacher.
Having devoted readers is very cool. Feeling that my son and I are cared about is even cooler. I really appreciate that you are there. Thanks Miss S and Aunt P.
It makes me wonder though. Are there any other readers? Am I writing this just for 2 people? If you read this blog with any regularity or are here for the first time please let me know, hit the comment link.
Happy Halloween
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Coming Home, the vacation aftermath
"That'll be $485."
$485! It's outrageous what a plumber charges.
While E and I were in Grand Rapids my mother was staying at our house. We needed the mail to be checked everyday (I was waiting on a letter and needed someone to call if it arrived), and I had spent the grocery money the week before on bulbs for her to plant. She loves to garden and I thought she would enjoy putzing around in the garden for a week.
Not so. She moved a few plants to get ready to plant bulbs but never got them planted.
The weather was cold and rainy so she was in pain (she needs surgery on her knee but doesn't want to have it done). She couldn't watch TV because we don't get anything here and it took her a while to figure out how to use the vcr even after she had been given a lesson and written instructions before we left. She felt like Martha Stewart, locked up but with the ability to walk around the yard.
All these things led to abdominal panic. One panic led to another when she forgot how to flush a low flow toliet. For several days she couldn't get it to clear but the panic continued so there were additions to the mess. She finally called and asked what to do, none of our suggestions worked and I told her to call a plumber and get an estimate. She called a plumber and he arrived, did work and refused to leave without being paid. My father gave him his credit card number over the phone to get the guy out of my house.
I returned to find gardening tools and small piles of dirt on my kitchen floor, A large pile of dishes in the sink and on the counters, and the splatter of deep frying coating the stove and counters, vegetables in a near liquid state and brown limes in my refrigerator (they were FREE!). The house had been cleaned before I left but you would never have guessed it.
We arrived home at about 7:30pm on Saturday and my mother was itching to leave. She scurried around gathering up her belongings as I unpacked the most important things from the car. She grabbed her bags and got in the car. I drove her home (about a 25 min trip) and waited to be sure she got in her house ok. The last time I dropped her off she had tripped on the stairs and I wanted to be sure it wouldn't happen again. As I sat in the car and watched a sinking feeling came over me. "She has forgotten her keys."
I walked her back to the car and decided our collective hunger must be fed. We went to Cracker Barrel for dinner and E refused to eat what he said he wanted when we ordered. Instead he wanted Nana's corn. After dinner I drove back home, ran in and got her keys. Then I drove back to her house and then back home. After I put E in bed I discovered her medication, her pillows and a bag of clothing. I was going to have to do it all over again tomorrow.
Sunday I drove back to my mother's place and picked her up after dropping off the things she left. She came back to my house "to finish what she had started". She planted a few bulbs and acted as supervisor for a lot of other work. I swear I should have no butt now, I worked it off that day. While we were digging we came across wires -- uh oh! Time to call Julie, the dig lady. I was told to stop all digging, even digging with a trowel, for 48 hours. The utilities would be out to put up flags and spray paint the ground where pipes and wires are. My yard now looks like an obstacle course.
Lessons learned:
* Have the mail held at the post office when you go on vacation.
* Don't call Bishop Plumbing if you need a plumber.
* Call Julie whenever you plan to disturb the ground. You're supposed to call even if you are going to drive a tent stake.
* Always ask mom if she has her keys.
* Never ask mom to housesit again.
$485! It's outrageous what a plumber charges.
While E and I were in Grand Rapids my mother was staying at our house. We needed the mail to be checked everyday (I was waiting on a letter and needed someone to call if it arrived), and I had spent the grocery money the week before on bulbs for her to plant. She loves to garden and I thought she would enjoy putzing around in the garden for a week.
Not so. She moved a few plants to get ready to plant bulbs but never got them planted.
The weather was cold and rainy so she was in pain (she needs surgery on her knee but doesn't want to have it done). She couldn't watch TV because we don't get anything here and it took her a while to figure out how to use the vcr even after she had been given a lesson and written instructions before we left. She felt like Martha Stewart, locked up but with the ability to walk around the yard.
All these things led to abdominal panic. One panic led to another when she forgot how to flush a low flow toliet. For several days she couldn't get it to clear but the panic continued so there were additions to the mess. She finally called and asked what to do, none of our suggestions worked and I told her to call a plumber and get an estimate. She called a plumber and he arrived, did work and refused to leave without being paid. My father gave him his credit card number over the phone to get the guy out of my house.
I returned to find gardening tools and small piles of dirt on my kitchen floor, A large pile of dishes in the sink and on the counters, and the splatter of deep frying coating the stove and counters, vegetables in a near liquid state and brown limes in my refrigerator (they were FREE!). The house had been cleaned before I left but you would never have guessed it.
We arrived home at about 7:30pm on Saturday and my mother was itching to leave. She scurried around gathering up her belongings as I unpacked the most important things from the car. She grabbed her bags and got in the car. I drove her home (about a 25 min trip) and waited to be sure she got in her house ok. The last time I dropped her off she had tripped on the stairs and I wanted to be sure it wouldn't happen again. As I sat in the car and watched a sinking feeling came over me. "She has forgotten her keys."
I walked her back to the car and decided our collective hunger must be fed. We went to Cracker Barrel for dinner and E refused to eat what he said he wanted when we ordered. Instead he wanted Nana's corn. After dinner I drove back home, ran in and got her keys. Then I drove back to her house and then back home. After I put E in bed I discovered her medication, her pillows and a bag of clothing. I was going to have to do it all over again tomorrow.
Sunday I drove back to my mother's place and picked her up after dropping off the things she left. She came back to my house "to finish what she had started". She planted a few bulbs and acted as supervisor for a lot of other work. I swear I should have no butt now, I worked it off that day. While we were digging we came across wires -- uh oh! Time to call Julie, the dig lady. I was told to stop all digging, even digging with a trowel, for 48 hours. The utilities would be out to put up flags and spray paint the ground where pipes and wires are. My yard now looks like an obstacle course.
Lessons learned:
* Have the mail held at the post office when you go on vacation.
* Don't call Bishop Plumbing if you need a plumber.
* Call Julie whenever you plan to disturb the ground. You're supposed to call even if you are going to drive a tent stake.
* Always ask mom if she has her keys.
* Never ask mom to housesit again.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
dust bunnies and elephants
Space vacuum emits a strange gust, honey.
Big motes swirl around and encrust funny.
The scientist said,
"It's like under your bed."
New planets get formed like a >DUSTBUNNY<.
(heard on NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me)
This new bit of information got me thinking about the way planets work and other thoughts in the deep end of my intellectual pool. Then the life preserver of silliness was thrown at me and I had to grab hold.
This may explain the strong gravitational pull around my bed. There is a new planet forming under there. Granted it is a small planet. Only Horton would be able to here a "who?".
Sidetrack: Horton Hears a Who. Is it possible that someone could actually here the activities of the dust mites? How would it change your life? Is it possible we CAN hear it but it has become white noise because they are so prevalent?
Sidetrack: Elephant. E and I have just returned from our vacation. There was a lot of driving so I made sure to pack a portable CD player and plenty of children's CDs so we could listen to them through the car stereo. A favorite was Disney's Children's Classics with Pooh. Mickey and Minnie, Donald Duck and Goofy also sing some of the songs (most are done straight, no altering of words or use of character voices, so the whole thing isn't that annoying to parents). Anywho, E has never seen a picture or cartoon of Goofy so all he has to go on for this character is the voice. Each time Goofy sang E yelled out "ELEPHANT!" I will never look at Goofy the same again.
Big motes swirl around and encrust funny.
The scientist said,
"It's like under your bed."
New planets get formed like a >DUSTBUNNY<.
(heard on NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me)
This new bit of information got me thinking about the way planets work and other thoughts in the deep end of my intellectual pool. Then the life preserver of silliness was thrown at me and I had to grab hold.
This may explain the strong gravitational pull around my bed. There is a new planet forming under there. Granted it is a small planet. Only Horton would be able to here a "who?".
Sidetrack: Horton Hears a Who. Is it possible that someone could actually here the activities of the dust mites? How would it change your life? Is it possible we CAN hear it but it has become white noise because they are so prevalent?
Sidetrack: Elephant. E and I have just returned from our vacation. There was a lot of driving so I made sure to pack a portable CD player and plenty of children's CDs so we could listen to them through the car stereo. A favorite was Disney's Children's Classics with Pooh. Mickey and Minnie, Donald Duck and Goofy also sing some of the songs (most are done straight, no altering of words or use of character voices, so the whole thing isn't that annoying to parents). Anywho, E has never seen a picture or cartoon of Goofy so all he has to go on for this character is the voice. Each time Goofy sang E yelled out "ELEPHANT!" I will never look at Goofy the same again.
Monday, October 11, 2004
growth spurt weekend
We had quite a weekend. It was a whirl of activities and amazingly I survived it. This may sound strange but every weekend since I've lived here (nearly 4 months) I have gotten next to nothing done and spend my afternoons praying E would just go to sleep and let me be while I nurse a killer headache. Thursday the elevator went to the top floor, the lights went on, and I bought a clue. I drink, on average, 4 cups of tea at work each morning. Caffinated tea. I don't drink tea at home. I have been suffering for months with caffine withdrawal. Saturday morning I got up early, made a large cup of tea and was good for the day.
After breakfast we headed to the allergist so I could get a flu shot. There are few advantages to being asthmatic so I'll take all I can get. I sang a song from a "Bear in the Big Blue House" video about getting a shot as the nurse poked me in the arm, E looking on wondering what was happening. He got a Bob the Builder sticker to take with him, his new favorite possession.
After the shot it was our usual Saturday morning trip to the library (BarReeRee). We got a stack of videos and the book "The Happy Lion" by Louise Fatio. It's one of E's favorites. The story appears in a collection of children's literature I bought in my babysitting days. The stories are condensed and there aren't that many picture so we checked out the book to get the rest of the story (can you hear Paul Harvey's voice?) and see the pictures.
At check out E was sitting on the counter as a young Middle Eastern gentleman checked out our selections. E was pointing to the laser light or the bar code reader and jabbering away. He was using words I didn't recognize and I told him I didn't understand. The young man behind the counter asked, "Does he speak English?"
"Yes," I replied slightly taken aback, "but he is not yet 2 years old."
After the library it was home for lunch and then a nap. He went down so easily and slept well, something is going on. After the nap it was on to the park/playground. The weather was nice and there were many children to play with. I met a neighbor, R, who's son is just slightly older then E. The boys would periodically played together each one copying the other. Gboy is on the swings so E needed to be on the swings. E is playing on the slide so Gboy needed to be on the slide. The other children were there but none held his interest as much a boy his own age.
I had met R before and I was unable to place her thick accent. I guessed Polish. I guessed wrong. While we were pushing our children on the swings we chatted a bit. I was trying to figure out what Gboy was saying and R told me, "my son doesn't speak English". She is Bulgarian and her husband is German so Gboy speaks German. I couldn't help but think of the librarian.
I am a very active participant in playground play. I'll slide down a slide, the corkscrew is my favorite (it's wider and my mommy butt doesn't get stuck). I'll climb a chain ladder. But mostly I'll spot a little boy that is a bit too adventurous for his abilities and my comfort. Having a big person around on the playground has its advantages for a little kid too. I spent much of my time Saturday afternoon holding him up so he could reach the bars. He has discovered that he can support his weight with his arms, he has learned to HANG. This is great fun and must be done at every opportunity and from every possible height and piece of equipment.
We stayed at the park for 3 and a half hours. The entire neighborhood left the playground en masse as the air began to cool and tummies began to grumble. E was asked what he wanted for dinner, a futile exercise I know but on weekends I always give it a shot. His reply: Park. Then he went under the open stairs in the living room, found the highest step he could reach and began to hang. We ate a forgettable meal. We watched a forgettable video while snuggling together under one of my cardigans. E got a bath and we both went to bed.
Sunday morning I got up earlier than I generally would. I went downstairs and made some tea, lesson learned, and began to clean and organize in the dining room. I unpacked 3 boxes and miraculously found space for everything and even more impressive it's neat. I had been up, not just awake, but up for a good hour or so before E awakened. I let E eat breakfast in his jammies, generally it's a rule that he is to be dressed before going downstairs. My Dad's words ring in my ears every morning when I enforce the rule, "You can leave the house hungry but you cannot leave the house in your pajamas." He stayed in his jammies for a few hours as the momentum of cleaning/organizing gripped me.
I was trying to get into the city to visit friends in the morning, maybe make the 10am folk Mass at my old parish, but the momentum could not be stopped. E played quietly on his own only occassionally bringing things over for me to see. We listened to children's music on the stereo and all was good. I got a lot done and although there is still a lot to do in the house it's down to decorating type stuff, hanging pictures and curtains.
I had called friends in the city to arrange for some sort of visit earlier in the week but nothing was firm not even the day. I saw an ad in the local paper for the Bulb Bazaar at the Chicago Botanic Garden (which is in Glencoe but that is a rant for another time) and called Sunday morning to invite my friends to go -- I have a garden now and want to get my own plants in the ground soon. Aunt K was the only taker. We were to meet at Uncle Grumpy's at 1:30 so I had to keep an eye on the clock to keep the momentum from ruining the opportunity to spend time with a friend. I rushed lunch as much as I could, but a toddler with Jello will not be rushed.
We arrived at Uncle Grumpy's a few minutes late but E napped in the car so we arrived in generally good spirits. We were suprised to see YiaYia there. She had made a special trip to see us. She wasn't going to go with us to the CBG, she just wanted to say hello. Miss C was having a garage sale in Uncle Grumpy's 3-car garage and we all sat out there for a bit and chatted. The reality of time passing jolted me and I announced that we had to get going. Aunt K, YiaYia, E and I piled into the car and we were off. I dropped YiaYia off at her house and the rest of us headed north. We listed to the 10 minute tape of children's songs about transportation numerous times as K and I caught up on the doings in the old neighborhood. (Note to self: get longer tape)
The day was gorgeous and many other people had the same idea we did. We stopped by the buld bazaar first and I blew most of the grocery money on a pretty garden. Then we strolled through the grounds. E was in charge of directions, what harm could it do? We went to the raised garden which shows that those with disabilities can garden. Aunt K played at trying to catch the water from the fountain and the tone was set, the challenge was in place. E must put his hand into as many fountains as possible. Even if that means his jacket will be wet up to the elbow. E got to roll down a hill, wish I had brought a camera for that one. He led the way on foot numerous time, "Come on guys!" and when he tired he rode in a stroller or on mommy's shoulders. At one point he was walking up steep "natural" steps while holding Aunt K's hand. I followed carrying all our gear. It was like mountain climbing with a stroller.
There is a long tree lined path overlooking the Rose Garden with large concrete spheres on the path's edge spaced a couple of trees apart. E walked back and forth down this corridor counting the spheres and singing and generally amusing himself and anyone else who wandered into hearing range. At one point a chipmunk wandered in, sat on its haunches for a moment, made a mental note of the boy and darted across the path and into the foliage on the hill. E ran after him yelling, "Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse." One of my favorite moments of the day.
After the CBG we took Aunt K out for dinner. We went to Walker Bros Original Pancake House. We got the Dutch Baby, the smaller version of the Baked German Pancake. You know, the pancake bigger than your head. E got a stack of 3 and a side of strawberries, he made short work of the fruit but wasn't as into the pancakes this time around. After dinner it was everybody home. E fell asleep about 7:15 in the car and slept until 7:30 the next morning. I changed him and put him in jammies but I don't think he remembers any of it. (He reminded me of the drunk girls in college freshmen year. Yes I was the responsible one that took care of the drunks in the dorm.) Something is definitely up with him and this sleeping thing.
It's normal for a child to be away from school or a daycare facility for a weekend. It's not so normal for the teachers to comment on how much he's grown in those 2 days away -- or is it? Sleeping is growing time. He has a big belly I guess it's time for a growth spurt. Think I'll wait on buying a bunch of long pants, we'll see what the next couple of weeks brings.
Well it's nearly midnight. The eyes are getting blurry. Need to get some sleep. TA
After breakfast we headed to the allergist so I could get a flu shot. There are few advantages to being asthmatic so I'll take all I can get. I sang a song from a "Bear in the Big Blue House" video about getting a shot as the nurse poked me in the arm, E looking on wondering what was happening. He got a Bob the Builder sticker to take with him, his new favorite possession.
After the shot it was our usual Saturday morning trip to the library (BarReeRee). We got a stack of videos and the book "The Happy Lion" by Louise Fatio. It's one of E's favorites. The story appears in a collection of children's literature I bought in my babysitting days. The stories are condensed and there aren't that many picture so we checked out the book to get the rest of the story (can you hear Paul Harvey's voice?) and see the pictures.
At check out E was sitting on the counter as a young Middle Eastern gentleman checked out our selections. E was pointing to the laser light or the bar code reader and jabbering away. He was using words I didn't recognize and I told him I didn't understand. The young man behind the counter asked, "Does he speak English?"
"Yes," I replied slightly taken aback, "but he is not yet 2 years old."
After the library it was home for lunch and then a nap. He went down so easily and slept well, something is going on. After the nap it was on to the park/playground. The weather was nice and there were many children to play with. I met a neighbor, R, who's son is just slightly older then E. The boys would periodically played together each one copying the other. Gboy is on the swings so E needed to be on the swings. E is playing on the slide so Gboy needed to be on the slide. The other children were there but none held his interest as much a boy his own age.
I had met R before and I was unable to place her thick accent. I guessed Polish. I guessed wrong. While we were pushing our children on the swings we chatted a bit. I was trying to figure out what Gboy was saying and R told me, "my son doesn't speak English". She is Bulgarian and her husband is German so Gboy speaks German. I couldn't help but think of the librarian.
I am a very active participant in playground play. I'll slide down a slide, the corkscrew is my favorite (it's wider and my mommy butt doesn't get stuck). I'll climb a chain ladder. But mostly I'll spot a little boy that is a bit too adventurous for his abilities and my comfort. Having a big person around on the playground has its advantages for a little kid too. I spent much of my time Saturday afternoon holding him up so he could reach the bars. He has discovered that he can support his weight with his arms, he has learned to HANG. This is great fun and must be done at every opportunity and from every possible height and piece of equipment.
We stayed at the park for 3 and a half hours. The entire neighborhood left the playground en masse as the air began to cool and tummies began to grumble. E was asked what he wanted for dinner, a futile exercise I know but on weekends I always give it a shot. His reply: Park. Then he went under the open stairs in the living room, found the highest step he could reach and began to hang. We ate a forgettable meal. We watched a forgettable video while snuggling together under one of my cardigans. E got a bath and we both went to bed.
Sunday morning I got up earlier than I generally would. I went downstairs and made some tea, lesson learned, and began to clean and organize in the dining room. I unpacked 3 boxes and miraculously found space for everything and even more impressive it's neat. I had been up, not just awake, but up for a good hour or so before E awakened. I let E eat breakfast in his jammies, generally it's a rule that he is to be dressed before going downstairs. My Dad's words ring in my ears every morning when I enforce the rule, "You can leave the house hungry but you cannot leave the house in your pajamas." He stayed in his jammies for a few hours as the momentum of cleaning/organizing gripped me.
I was trying to get into the city to visit friends in the morning, maybe make the 10am folk Mass at my old parish, but the momentum could not be stopped. E played quietly on his own only occassionally bringing things over for me to see. We listened to children's music on the stereo and all was good. I got a lot done and although there is still a lot to do in the house it's down to decorating type stuff, hanging pictures and curtains.
I had called friends in the city to arrange for some sort of visit earlier in the week but nothing was firm not even the day. I saw an ad in the local paper for the Bulb Bazaar at the Chicago Botanic Garden (which is in Glencoe but that is a rant for another time) and called Sunday morning to invite my friends to go -- I have a garden now and want to get my own plants in the ground soon. Aunt K was the only taker. We were to meet at Uncle Grumpy's at 1:30 so I had to keep an eye on the clock to keep the momentum from ruining the opportunity to spend time with a friend. I rushed lunch as much as I could, but a toddler with Jello will not be rushed.
We arrived at Uncle Grumpy's a few minutes late but E napped in the car so we arrived in generally good spirits. We were suprised to see YiaYia there. She had made a special trip to see us. She wasn't going to go with us to the CBG, she just wanted to say hello. Miss C was having a garage sale in Uncle Grumpy's 3-car garage and we all sat out there for a bit and chatted. The reality of time passing jolted me and I announced that we had to get going. Aunt K, YiaYia, E and I piled into the car and we were off. I dropped YiaYia off at her house and the rest of us headed north. We listed to the 10 minute tape of children's songs about transportation numerous times as K and I caught up on the doings in the old neighborhood. (Note to self: get longer tape)
The day was gorgeous and many other people had the same idea we did. We stopped by the buld bazaar first and I blew most of the grocery money on a pretty garden. Then we strolled through the grounds. E was in charge of directions, what harm could it do? We went to the raised garden which shows that those with disabilities can garden. Aunt K played at trying to catch the water from the fountain and the tone was set, the challenge was in place. E must put his hand into as many fountains as possible. Even if that means his jacket will be wet up to the elbow. E got to roll down a hill, wish I had brought a camera for that one. He led the way on foot numerous time, "Come on guys!" and when he tired he rode in a stroller or on mommy's shoulders. At one point he was walking up steep "natural" steps while holding Aunt K's hand. I followed carrying all our gear. It was like mountain climbing with a stroller.
There is a long tree lined path overlooking the Rose Garden with large concrete spheres on the path's edge spaced a couple of trees apart. E walked back and forth down this corridor counting the spheres and singing and generally amusing himself and anyone else who wandered into hearing range. At one point a chipmunk wandered in, sat on its haunches for a moment, made a mental note of the boy and darted across the path and into the foliage on the hill. E ran after him yelling, "Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse." One of my favorite moments of the day.
After the CBG we took Aunt K out for dinner. We went to Walker Bros Original Pancake House. We got the Dutch Baby, the smaller version of the Baked German Pancake. You know, the pancake bigger than your head. E got a stack of 3 and a side of strawberries, he made short work of the fruit but wasn't as into the pancakes this time around. After dinner it was everybody home. E fell asleep about 7:15 in the car and slept until 7:30 the next morning. I changed him and put him in jammies but I don't think he remembers any of it. (He reminded me of the drunk girls in college freshmen year. Yes I was the responsible one that took care of the drunks in the dorm.) Something is definitely up with him and this sleeping thing.
It's normal for a child to be away from school or a daycare facility for a weekend. It's not so normal for the teachers to comment on how much he's grown in those 2 days away -- or is it? Sleeping is growing time. He has a big belly I guess it's time for a growth spurt. Think I'll wait on buying a bunch of long pants, we'll see what the next couple of weeks brings.
Well it's nearly midnight. The eyes are getting blurry. Need to get some sleep. TA
Saturday, October 02, 2004
"I'm Melting"
Hear the shreiks of my brain as it dies from lack of exercise?
The Wiggles are wonderful and Ralph's World rocks but there is just so much an adult mind can take. I have NO ONE to talk to after E is in bed and it's beginning to kill me. I detest dishes and house work after hours is neither relaxing nor intellectually stimulating.
To combat this mind melt I've decided to turn to the internet, not for news which is depressing, but for intelligent blog content. It's hard to find in blogger with it's nearly nonexistent search, I was using the "next blog" link that Blogger supplies and it has taken me to stuff written by teens and college kids that I have little or no interest in.
Blogger has a list of 10 that they think people may find interesting and I started worming my way through the links on other people's blogs. I have found this is the only way to find English language blogs with intelligent content. People who are publishing interesting and intelligent stuff provide links, God bless their little hearts, to others doing the same.
The blogs by academics I have been checking out lately are either over my head, on a topic I'm just not interested in or are just too damned long to add to a daily reading list. I need sleep. There are a few I like and will provide links to them on this blog. My favorite so far is "The Cranky Professor". He is short and too the point. His interest is showing you he is so much smarter than everyone else, a trait that reminds me of my grad school professional advisor. But unlike Dr. C The Cranky Prof is funny.
It's late and as I said before I need sleep.
The Wiggles are wonderful and Ralph's World rocks but there is just so much an adult mind can take. I have NO ONE to talk to after E is in bed and it's beginning to kill me. I detest dishes and house work after hours is neither relaxing nor intellectually stimulating.
To combat this mind melt I've decided to turn to the internet, not for news which is depressing, but for intelligent blog content. It's hard to find in blogger with it's nearly nonexistent search, I was using the "next blog" link that Blogger supplies and it has taken me to stuff written by teens and college kids that I have little or no interest in.
Blogger has a list of 10 that they think people may find interesting and I started worming my way through the links on other people's blogs. I have found this is the only way to find English language blogs with intelligent content. People who are publishing interesting and intelligent stuff provide links, God bless their little hearts, to others doing the same.
The blogs by academics I have been checking out lately are either over my head, on a topic I'm just not interested in or are just too damned long to add to a daily reading list. I need sleep. There are a few I like and will provide links to them on this blog. My favorite so far is "The Cranky Professor". He is short and too the point. His interest is showing you he is so much smarter than everyone else, a trait that reminds me of my grad school professional advisor. But unlike Dr. C The Cranky Prof is funny.
It's late and as I said before I need sleep.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Today was the first day...
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 5 flowers.
E counted for the first time today. Counted where I knew he was counting instead of just saying the words in the proper order. The first time I knew he had made the connection between word and concept/quantity. I was excited all day by this new development.
Each morning when he wakes up I go get him and we lie in my bed and cuddle for 7-14 minutes and talk about what's going to happen that day or read a book or sleep. Today we looked at the pictures in "Wind in the Willows." There aren't as many as he would like but it's what was in Mommy's room. On the cover is an illustration of Ratty, Mr. Toad and Mr. Mole in a field with a few flowers. He wanted to count the flowers this morning and he did the pointing this time and started at "one". I generally do the pointing and start us out.
There are some words E says that as so clear, so distinct that there is no mistaking what they are. Some of these words are often mispronounced by toddlers so it's kinda freaky when he says them clearly. I am thinking of course of "McDonalds". Today was the first time he ever said that word.
Yes Bad Mommy got McDonalds this evening -- just didn't have the umph to cook a complete meal. But to my credit Good Mommy served him green beans instead of fries, the potatoe hater wouldn't have eaten them anyway, and milk instead of soda. When I proposed the idea of fast food I asked what thought of that idea.
GOOD 'DEA! MC DONALDS YEAH!
The fact that McDonalds was so clear floored me, we don't go there that often anymore and I never say the restaurant (I use the term loosly) name when we do go. Then he started today's mantra, HAMA-GER-GER YEAH! Nice flourish son, good use of the wave.
Mr. Fussy wanted the food immediately and I needed to take off our coats, put down our bags, nuke the beans and get his milk. He decided a fit was a better option and laid down on the floor in front of the door. I gave him the slow three count.
1. change your behavior to what I want
2. or this is what the consequences will be
3. You're done. TIME OUT. this is what I wanted, you didn't do it, here are your consequences.
I ate the fries and drank the coke from his Happy Meal as I nuked the beans and wiped down the high chair. He spent that time wailing from his crib upstairs. He is definitely in the terrible twos and I am going to become quite fit carrying him up and down the stairs for his major time outs. A crib time out is so much bigger than a floor or chair time out. I reserve those for fits when he decides to lay down, he must be tired he should be in bed. (I can hear my father saying that, this is the guy who waves cheerfully to honking motorists behind him, "Well they must know me, you don't use your horn except to say 'Hi'.")
When I was done I went upstairs and got E ready for dinner, washed his hands and the snotty boogers off his face. He went into the high chair without a fight. I got out the HAMA-GER-GER and offered to cut it for him. "No I bite it." There's a first time for everything.
E counted for the first time today. Counted where I knew he was counting instead of just saying the words in the proper order. The first time I knew he had made the connection between word and concept/quantity. I was excited all day by this new development.
Each morning when he wakes up I go get him and we lie in my bed and cuddle for 7-14 minutes and talk about what's going to happen that day or read a book or sleep. Today we looked at the pictures in "Wind in the Willows." There aren't as many as he would like but it's what was in Mommy's room. On the cover is an illustration of Ratty, Mr. Toad and Mr. Mole in a field with a few flowers. He wanted to count the flowers this morning and he did the pointing this time and started at "one". I generally do the pointing and start us out.
There are some words E says that as so clear, so distinct that there is no mistaking what they are. Some of these words are often mispronounced by toddlers so it's kinda freaky when he says them clearly. I am thinking of course of "McDonalds". Today was the first time he ever said that word.
Yes Bad Mommy got McDonalds this evening -- just didn't have the umph to cook a complete meal. But to my credit Good Mommy served him green beans instead of fries, the potatoe hater wouldn't have eaten them anyway, and milk instead of soda. When I proposed the idea of fast food I asked what thought of that idea.
GOOD 'DEA! MC DONALDS YEAH!
The fact that McDonalds was so clear floored me, we don't go there that often anymore and I never say the restaurant (I use the term loosly) name when we do go. Then he started today's mantra, HAMA-GER-GER YEAH! Nice flourish son, good use of the wave.
Mr. Fussy wanted the food immediately and I needed to take off our coats, put down our bags, nuke the beans and get his milk. He decided a fit was a better option and laid down on the floor in front of the door. I gave him the slow three count.
1. change your behavior to what I want
2. or this is what the consequences will be
3. You're done. TIME OUT. this is what I wanted, you didn't do it, here are your consequences.
I ate the fries and drank the coke from his Happy Meal as I nuked the beans and wiped down the high chair. He spent that time wailing from his crib upstairs. He is definitely in the terrible twos and I am going to become quite fit carrying him up and down the stairs for his major time outs. A crib time out is so much bigger than a floor or chair time out. I reserve those for fits when he decides to lay down, he must be tired he should be in bed. (I can hear my father saying that, this is the guy who waves cheerfully to honking motorists behind him, "Well they must know me, you don't use your horn except to say 'Hi'.")
When I was done I went upstairs and got E ready for dinner, washed his hands and the snotty boogers off his face. He went into the high chair without a fight. I got out the HAMA-GER-GER and offered to cut it for him. "No I bite it." There's a first time for everything.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Mom. Suburban Mom.
Queue the music. (Mission Impossible or general 007 theme)
The transformation is complete. I have infiltrated their ranks. Topics of discussion this week alone have included: what is the best way to get food stains, especially pizza sauce, out of clothes; how can I prepare cauliflower so a toddler will eat it (turns out it's just not possible), and the effective use of the time out.
I race home at lunch to do laundry or vacuum or clean the bathroom or do any of the other things that are difficult to do with a toddler awake and under foot. Before beginning this entry I wormed through a few other blogs while I folded clothes, that were washed at lunch today. A few new items were in the regular mix, items I purchased at a garage sale (talk about suburban mom when I was a city mom I went to resale shops for second hand). I am amazed at the quality of E's new clothes. There is no wear, no tear, not a stain in sight. Did the boy even wear them? (Actually one pair of sweats still had the price tag on them.) What does this family use for laundry detergent and where can I get it?
When I was a city mom E's clothes were so much cleaner. I used Dreft on all his clothes and would soak badly stained clothes in a bucket of OxyClean and water. Obviously the properties of baby poop are different than those of pizza sauce. Perhaps All allergen free isn't a good product -- but it works on my clothes. Maybe the water is different (very possibe, the water out here is awful stuff).
My concerns are different in the 'burbs than they were in the city when E was younger. My main worries then were where am I going to park the car and which jar food will I give him tonight. Now that he eats the same food I do I have to think a lot more about meals. I need to worry about nutrition (hear the playground taunt on that last word?), taste and ease of preparation. The latter is really important because E wants to help cook. His cooking may only be putting the vegetables I just cut into the steamer basket (well away from the heat) or taking garabage to the trash can, but he wants to be in the action, to the point of sometimes not wanting to eat when it's time because he'd rather "cook it".
Tonight was one of those nights he wouldn't stay in his seat. He is a "big boy" now and sits on an Ikea step stool at meals. Tonights he was going to have none of that. I had to tell him repeatedly that he didn't need to "cook" anything else. After finishing his MEELK he asked for juice. I obliged, telling him "2-hands to drink". He stood at the end of the counter and practically poured the juice out because even though he was holding the glass with 2 hands he wasn't paying attention to whether the cup was upright or not. I cleaned up the mess and told him to sit on the rug in front of the door to finish his juice. He sat down and did it again.
TIME OUT! He was to sit on the stool in the middle of the kitchen and be quiet, no talking, no touching anything, no playing with anything. And for the next week he will have to sit in the high chair for meals. The no talking thing was hardest on him and he began to jabber within moments. I was still upset and told him that if he kept talking when I told him not to he would be in the high chair for 2 weeks. He will be in the high chair for 2 weeks.
To be taken off of a time out requires an act of contrition including the apology, usually accompanied by a hug or kiss, and a statement of what will change. Tonight it was "I will pay attention." I got the apology with a hug and a kiss but E refused to say "I will pay attention." I couldn't have a war of wills into the wee hours, he needed to go to bed so I picked him up like a sack of potatoes and carried him upstairs to get ready for bed. While he was sitting on the potty -- one of the night time rituals -- he reluctantly said it.
He may be 2 months from his birthday, but he is definitely in the terrible 2s and my patience is wearing thin. Lord help us!
The transformation is complete. I have infiltrated their ranks. Topics of discussion this week alone have included: what is the best way to get food stains, especially pizza sauce, out of clothes; how can I prepare cauliflower so a toddler will eat it (turns out it's just not possible), and the effective use of the time out.
I race home at lunch to do laundry or vacuum or clean the bathroom or do any of the other things that are difficult to do with a toddler awake and under foot. Before beginning this entry I wormed through a few other blogs while I folded clothes, that were washed at lunch today. A few new items were in the regular mix, items I purchased at a garage sale (talk about suburban mom when I was a city mom I went to resale shops for second hand). I am amazed at the quality of E's new clothes. There is no wear, no tear, not a stain in sight. Did the boy even wear them? (Actually one pair of sweats still had the price tag on them.) What does this family use for laundry detergent and where can I get it?
When I was a city mom E's clothes were so much cleaner. I used Dreft on all his clothes and would soak badly stained clothes in a bucket of OxyClean and water. Obviously the properties of baby poop are different than those of pizza sauce. Perhaps All allergen free isn't a good product -- but it works on my clothes. Maybe the water is different (very possibe, the water out here is awful stuff).
My concerns are different in the 'burbs than they were in the city when E was younger. My main worries then were where am I going to park the car and which jar food will I give him tonight. Now that he eats the same food I do I have to think a lot more about meals. I need to worry about nutrition (hear the playground taunt on that last word?), taste and ease of preparation. The latter is really important because E wants to help cook. His cooking may only be putting the vegetables I just cut into the steamer basket (well away from the heat) or taking garabage to the trash can, but he wants to be in the action, to the point of sometimes not wanting to eat when it's time because he'd rather "cook it".
Tonight was one of those nights he wouldn't stay in his seat. He is a "big boy" now and sits on an Ikea step stool at meals. Tonights he was going to have none of that. I had to tell him repeatedly that he didn't need to "cook" anything else. After finishing his MEELK he asked for juice. I obliged, telling him "2-hands to drink". He stood at the end of the counter and practically poured the juice out because even though he was holding the glass with 2 hands he wasn't paying attention to whether the cup was upright or not. I cleaned up the mess and told him to sit on the rug in front of the door to finish his juice. He sat down and did it again.
TIME OUT! He was to sit on the stool in the middle of the kitchen and be quiet, no talking, no touching anything, no playing with anything. And for the next week he will have to sit in the high chair for meals. The no talking thing was hardest on him and he began to jabber within moments. I was still upset and told him that if he kept talking when I told him not to he would be in the high chair for 2 weeks. He will be in the high chair for 2 weeks.
To be taken off of a time out requires an act of contrition including the apology, usually accompanied by a hug or kiss, and a statement of what will change. Tonight it was "I will pay attention." I got the apology with a hug and a kiss but E refused to say "I will pay attention." I couldn't have a war of wills into the wee hours, he needed to go to bed so I picked him up like a sack of potatoes and carried him upstairs to get ready for bed. While he was sitting on the potty -- one of the night time rituals -- he reluctantly said it.
He may be 2 months from his birthday, but he is definitely in the terrible 2s and my patience is wearing thin. Lord help us!
Monday, September 27, 2004
vocabulary words
That phrase was terrifying in school. You were supposed to learn those particular words, know how to spell them, use them in a sentence and make them part of your regular speech. It was a daunting task. The one word I remember learning as a vocabulary work was "surroundings". It was wonderful knowing it meant everything around you. I was 7 or 8 and it seemed like such a big word it had those double r's and all.
Well now my surroundings are filled with toddler toys and vocabulary is again an important part of my life. E's pronunciation is not the best, but it is damned cute at times. We were practicing naming, counting and matching the other day with a basket full of rattles, finger puppets and small stuffed animals. He has 2 'raffes, 3 e'phants, 2 burdies (one is a regular bird the other is a duck) and he has a rhinus in each of the aforementioned categories. Rhinus is my favorite, I can see Linus carrying his blanket with a giant horn coming out of his head.
The evolution of understanding and vocabulary is very interesting to watch. For the past several months we have gone to the PA'K to play on the 'wings and the slides. This weekend we went on a long walk and we were going to end up at the park. As we got nearer and nearer our final destination E began yelling, as an excited toddler will do, PLAYGROUND! This is the first time I had ever heard him say this word and was amazed by it's clarity.
Last night we went out to eat at IHOP, our favorite restaurant. I asked for extra napkins because a rooty tooty fresh and fruity junior tends to get messy in the hands of a toddler who prefers fingers to a fo'k. As I was wiping his hands he said PAPER TOWEL. That was a surprise. I didn't know he knew that word.
The thing that really floored me this weekend was the trip to Micheal's. We were killing time before the BarReeRee (library) opened so we ambled down each aisle on the hunt for the elusive CIRCLE. He knows some shapes and circles are easiest for him to identify so we were looking for them. We were in the unfinished wood aisle and I was looking at the letters thinking about perhaps putting his name on one of the walls in his bedroom. I picked up an E and asked him what it was and he said, "E". I knew they were working on E in school the other day, because there are 2 boys in his class whose names start with E, but I didn't really expect him to be identifying it so quickly and confidently. I asked him about another letter expecting to get "E" as a response. He correctly identifed "G". Pick me up and dust me off, the boy's a genius.
His ability to properly identify colors is getting better and better too. He really knows owange and can generally get blue, though at times he will say it's green. But if he doesn't know a color it's always purple. I think that's because it's fun to say. "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" was the book selection this month in his classroom. I have been reading him this book since he was 6 months old and he has been able to identify the animals for me for quite some time, but when I asked about colors he never said much. The teacher reads it for a couple of days and he's identifing the next animal and color before the page is turned.
Our woolurd (world) is changing everyday as he connects words with objects and ideas. It's getting really exciting.
Well the house is quiet, E has been asleep for hours and even the neighbors have decided to call it a day. The clocks are tocking to one another. The office clock, the bathroom clock and E's bedroom clock are off by a tick and so in the stillness of night it sounds as if they are carrying on a conversation. I think I'll go listen in.
GOOD NIGHT
Well now my surroundings are filled with toddler toys and vocabulary is again an important part of my life. E's pronunciation is not the best, but it is damned cute at times. We were practicing naming, counting and matching the other day with a basket full of rattles, finger puppets and small stuffed animals. He has 2 'raffes, 3 e'phants, 2 burdies (one is a regular bird the other is a duck) and he has a rhinus in each of the aforementioned categories. Rhinus is my favorite, I can see Linus carrying his blanket with a giant horn coming out of his head.
The evolution of understanding and vocabulary is very interesting to watch. For the past several months we have gone to the PA'K to play on the 'wings and the slides. This weekend we went on a long walk and we were going to end up at the park. As we got nearer and nearer our final destination E began yelling, as an excited toddler will do, PLAYGROUND! This is the first time I had ever heard him say this word and was amazed by it's clarity.
Last night we went out to eat at IHOP, our favorite restaurant. I asked for extra napkins because a rooty tooty fresh and fruity junior tends to get messy in the hands of a toddler who prefers fingers to a fo'k. As I was wiping his hands he said PAPER TOWEL. That was a surprise. I didn't know he knew that word.
The thing that really floored me this weekend was the trip to Micheal's. We were killing time before the BarReeRee (library) opened so we ambled down each aisle on the hunt for the elusive CIRCLE. He knows some shapes and circles are easiest for him to identify so we were looking for them. We were in the unfinished wood aisle and I was looking at the letters thinking about perhaps putting his name on one of the walls in his bedroom. I picked up an E and asked him what it was and he said, "E". I knew they were working on E in school the other day, because there are 2 boys in his class whose names start with E, but I didn't really expect him to be identifying it so quickly and confidently. I asked him about another letter expecting to get "E" as a response. He correctly identifed "G". Pick me up and dust me off, the boy's a genius.
His ability to properly identify colors is getting better and better too. He really knows owange and can generally get blue, though at times he will say it's green. But if he doesn't know a color it's always purple. I think that's because it's fun to say. "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" was the book selection this month in his classroom. I have been reading him this book since he was 6 months old and he has been able to identify the animals for me for quite some time, but when I asked about colors he never said much. The teacher reads it for a couple of days and he's identifing the next animal and color before the page is turned.
Our woolurd (world) is changing everyday as he connects words with objects and ideas. It's getting really exciting.
Well the house is quiet, E has been asleep for hours and even the neighbors have decided to call it a day. The clocks are tocking to one another. The office clock, the bathroom clock and E's bedroom clock are off by a tick and so in the stillness of night it sounds as if they are carrying on a conversation. I think I'll go listen in.
GOOD NIGHT
The Green Bean Monster
The other day at dinner I told E he could have a juice bar, a favorite dessert, only if he ate at least one green bean. He has never been fond of green beans in their natural form. He wasn't even all that fond of them as baby food but he would eat whatever was put in his mouth then. Now it's all "No" and "I don' wan' it". The allure of a juice bar is strong however so he picked up a bean and tentatively put it in his mouth. He pinched off a bit with pursed lips and then did it again. Then the entire bean was eaten, then another and another.
"Mo'e p'ease." I spooned a few more beans on his plate. He ate them.
"Mo'e p'ease." I did it again and he ate all of those. I asked him if he liked them, his relpy was simply "Cookie Mon'ter".
"Are you the Green Bean Monster?"
"Yeah!" He ate all the beans we had.
The next night he wanted nothing to do with the chili mac I made -- he is not big on left overs that are reworked into other things. Chili mac is mac and cheese mixed with leftover sloppy joe, it's not bad but E was having nothing to do with the meat. He would put a fo'k full in his mouth and separate out the 'roni from the meat and spit out the meat. I served green beans with this meal and he pretty much just ate the beans.
He is particular about his beans though, they cannot be in something else. I used some leftover beans in beef stew. He was having none of that, gravy and beans should never meet. He refused to eat dinner.
Green beans are not the only vegetable that he will eat. He loves corn too. Tonight we had lasagna, a dish he has had before and just loved, and left over corn on the cob. I found the little corn holders for the ends of the ears so you don't burn yourself or get too messy with all the fixings. Neither was really a problem tonight. I served the ears unadorned with butter or other toppings and the temperature is what a coworker would call 'piss warm'. Perfect for a toddler. E refused to eat the lasagna and made a meal of an ear of corn.
"Mo'e p'ease." I spooned a few more beans on his plate. He ate them.
"Mo'e p'ease." I did it again and he ate all of those. I asked him if he liked them, his relpy was simply "Cookie Mon'ter".
"Are you the Green Bean Monster?"
"Yeah!" He ate all the beans we had.
The next night he wanted nothing to do with the chili mac I made -- he is not big on left overs that are reworked into other things. Chili mac is mac and cheese mixed with leftover sloppy joe, it's not bad but E was having nothing to do with the meat. He would put a fo'k full in his mouth and separate out the 'roni from the meat and spit out the meat. I served green beans with this meal and he pretty much just ate the beans.
He is particular about his beans though, they cannot be in something else. I used some leftover beans in beef stew. He was having none of that, gravy and beans should never meet. He refused to eat dinner.
Green beans are not the only vegetable that he will eat. He loves corn too. Tonight we had lasagna, a dish he has had before and just loved, and left over corn on the cob. I found the little corn holders for the ends of the ears so you don't burn yourself or get too messy with all the fixings. Neither was really a problem tonight. I served the ears unadorned with butter or other toppings and the temperature is what a coworker would call 'piss warm'. Perfect for a toddler. E refused to eat the lasagna and made a meal of an ear of corn.
Choosing a Mantra
According to those who use a mantra while meditating:
"The chosen word (of the mantra) should represent the Divine Reality or Deity of the individual according to his religious belief or the chosen stanza should reflect the ethical and spiritual values of the individual. The word is so chosen that it draws aspirant’s attention to the Spiritual Reality during the (meditation)."
Things are different for toddlers. They have their own rules for choosing the proper word or phrase as their mantra. The key seems to be current events. E's current favorite is "What happened?" of course there is "What doin'?" and the all time favorite "da dat?" (what's that? for those in need of a translation.) All are delivered in an inquisitive tone with that soft lift in his voice as he finishes. I'm generally patient with E. I've grown much more patient since he was born, but this new phase is testing the limits.
"What happened?" he asks as he points to the construction equipment and orange barrels lining the road near our house. I explain that they are building a road. The answer is unsatisfactory. The mantra appears.
No matter how hard I try I cannot come up with the right answer. The answer that will make the mantra stop. My best bet is to distract him the way Marlin distracts Dory in 'Finding Nemo', "Oh look, something shiny." It rarely works but it is worth a try.
"The chosen word (of the mantra) should represent the Divine Reality or Deity of the individual according to his religious belief or the chosen stanza should reflect the ethical and spiritual values of the individual. The word is so chosen that it draws aspirant’s attention to the Spiritual Reality during the (meditation)."
Things are different for toddlers. They have their own rules for choosing the proper word or phrase as their mantra. The key seems to be current events. E's current favorite is "What happened?" of course there is "What doin'?" and the all time favorite "da dat?" (what's that? for those in need of a translation.) All are delivered in an inquisitive tone with that soft lift in his voice as he finishes. I'm generally patient with E. I've grown much more patient since he was born, but this new phase is testing the limits.
"What happened?" he asks as he points to the construction equipment and orange barrels lining the road near our house. I explain that they are building a road. The answer is unsatisfactory. The mantra appears.
No matter how hard I try I cannot come up with the right answer. The answer that will make the mantra stop. My best bet is to distract him the way Marlin distracts Dory in 'Finding Nemo', "Oh look, something shiny." It rarely works but it is worth a try.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
the key thing
The last couple of days have been the perfect example of "what now?"
This weekend E and I wen to the library as we usually do on Saturday morning. He was cranky and refused to sit for story time. "I don' wan' it." Of course the tiredness didn't prohibit him from being loud in the regular AV department. He got his wish, we are leaving, but NO we are not we must climb the stairs to the second floor and ride the elevator down. As a "what now?" That wasn't too bad.
Putting him down for a nap after we returned home was a struggle. I ended up falling asleep as he played. He hit my arm and yelled in my face "Wake up!"
"That's it you're in the crib for a nap. Yawn. Mommy will just go lie down in her own bed."
Of course finding yourself in your own bed after you have fallen asleep elsewhere means you will NOT sleep. It's strange how you can find comfort in uncomfortable positions and manage to sleep. It just wasn't the same without the penguin beak in my back and the toy car under my leg.
After our naps and a bite to eat we, by that I mean E, had a lot of energy to burn. Let's walk. I grabbed the keys, put a stick in the slider and shut the back door. All was safe inside as we roamed the countryside. We walked across the neighboring gold course, under the road, over the tunnel we had just gone through and back the 6 or so blocks on the sidewalk. The sidewalk is quite close to a beautiful winding street where a pedestrian can't see an oncoming car until they are nearly next to you. It was when we got to the sidewalk that I had to begin carrying E and the toy lawn mower that we had to bring along on our adventure. You never know when something will need to be mowed. E was instructed to hold my hand and agreed but after the second car went by he saide "carry you" which means I carry him. Then he told me he was "kiyrd" which is how he says 'scared'. To get back home we had to walk past the park.
Of course the park must be visited. We must swing on swings and slide down slides and do all the things you do at the park. But it's getting late and we are losing daylight. It's time to go home and "eat eat". "Carry you!" Mommy's back is starting to ache and so E gets a horsey ride which is easier on the back -- ask any chiropractor.
We head to the patio and put the home lawnmower away first. Next stop front door. Deadbolt key is a perfect fit, doorknob works like a charm, OH MY GOD THE CHAIN IS ON THE DOOR. "AH SHIT WE'RE LOCKED OUT, again."
"Lock out?"
"Yes honey we are locked out."
What to do, what to do quick —— drive to the police station and ask for help.
"Lock out? Lock out?" The entire way to the police station E said "Lock out?"
We pull into the desolate parking lot and park the car. I get E out of his seat and walk up the flight of stairs to the main entrance. "Hello, I was hoping we'd never see the inside of this bldg but here we are." I told the woman behind the desk my sad tale of woe. There was an officer standing a few feet from her behind the thick bullet proof glass that separated us from them. He asked questions I thought I had just answered with my statement. Is he hard of hearing, looking for clarification or stupid? I began to lean toward the latter when he asked if I had walked from home.
I was instructed to go home, that an officer would be there to help. The entire way to home E repeated his new mantra "Lock out?" When I returned home there were 2 cars and 2 cops. They got out their flashlights and began asking if all the windows were locked. "Yes or they have the stops on them so you can only open them an inch or two." The first officer's hand reached around the door and tried to move the chain. Then the second officer's hand reached around the door and tried to move the chain. Did they really think I hadn't tried that?
I told them "You have my permission to cut the chain."
This caused them to pause and consider their options. "We could call the fire department, they are the ones with the bold cutters," Officer 1 said to Officer 2. Of course my mind sees the most outrageous things in that moment. I envision a ladder truck pulling up, lights flashing, sirens wailing and a guy runs up with a pair of bolt cutters, snips the chain and runs back into the truck. It's so very Monte Python.
"How about a coat hanger or something?" I suggest. When we were on our walk I saw a wire coat hanger on the ground a few houses away. Officer 2 starts working on the chain with his knife. Officer 1 leaves for a few minutes and returns with a slim jim. He bends and stretches and wiggles. I am holding the door open for the officers because it's a nice thing to do and it affords me the best view of the proceedings and of E who is still asking everyone "Lock out?"
E is growing bored with watching Officer 2's backside and begins to wander away. I try to set the lock on the door closer and go after him. It's not working. Now what? After a quick check Officer 1 informs me that it's on backwards. He wanders away as well and goes to check out the back door. E follows. "EH, EH," I stopped him from trampling the plants and told him to use the path. Officer 1's flash light goes on and illuminates E's way. Just then the door opens.
Hallelujah!
E helped make dinner. He put carrots in the steamer basket (well away from the steamer). He adopted a new mantra as well, "cook 'em". While the carrots steamed E watched a Barney video (it may be worse than I originally thought, but that's a blog for another day) and I called my sister. She had a similar tale to tell. About a decade or so ago the bar to her slider fell into the track locking her on her 2nd floor deck. She was able to MacGyver her way out by tying her shoelaces together to drag a phone over to her so she could call someone with a key to her apartment. Sis and I had a good laugh about both situations.
Dinner and E's bedtime routine were very late because of this "set back" He finally got in bed at 10pm. I feel like such a bad mother.
-------------
Monday we went to the mall to get my sister's birthday present. A trip to the mall after work always means eating out and this time we went to Sbarro. We got there just before the dinner crowd which was a poor bit of planning on my part. The food we got was not so fresh and not so good. But if it's pizza E doesn't care -- he eats it!
After dinner we went to the Disney store for the gift and then visited a couple of nearby children's clothing shops looking for green sweats for his halloween costume. No luck on the sweats so it's time to go home. It's getting late and E needs a bath.
The last few minutes of the trip E wanted to be carried, he was getting tired. I set him down outside the mall entrance and began the search for the keys. Not it the front purse pocket, or the back, not in the pants pockets, not in the backpack...Awh damn not again. I pick E up and walk to the car. There they are, dangling from the ignition waiting to do their job.
I turn and walk back to the mall. E asked "Key go?" This becomes his new mantra. I head for the first store with a visible sales person. GNC. The guy is sitting is some massage chair in the middle of the entrance -- obviously demonstrating the merits of the merchandise. I asked him if mall security handles lock outs, do you have their number, can you call them. I am instructed to wait outside the mall near his store (duh!) and an "officer" will be there soon.
I do as I'm told and the rent a cop shows up quickly. I tell him where my car is—it's in a garage spot—and he says he'll meet me there. After I fill out some paperwork he jumps out of his security vehicle with a slim jim and goes to work.
I hear a chorus of "Key go?" all the way home.
This weekend E and I wen to the library as we usually do on Saturday morning. He was cranky and refused to sit for story time. "I don' wan' it." Of course the tiredness didn't prohibit him from being loud in the regular AV department. He got his wish, we are leaving, but NO we are not we must climb the stairs to the second floor and ride the elevator down. As a "what now?" That wasn't too bad.
Putting him down for a nap after we returned home was a struggle. I ended up falling asleep as he played. He hit my arm and yelled in my face "Wake up!"
"That's it you're in the crib for a nap. Yawn. Mommy will just go lie down in her own bed."
Of course finding yourself in your own bed after you have fallen asleep elsewhere means you will NOT sleep. It's strange how you can find comfort in uncomfortable positions and manage to sleep. It just wasn't the same without the penguin beak in my back and the toy car under my leg.
After our naps and a bite to eat we, by that I mean E, had a lot of energy to burn. Let's walk. I grabbed the keys, put a stick in the slider and shut the back door. All was safe inside as we roamed the countryside. We walked across the neighboring gold course, under the road, over the tunnel we had just gone through and back the 6 or so blocks on the sidewalk. The sidewalk is quite close to a beautiful winding street where a pedestrian can't see an oncoming car until they are nearly next to you. It was when we got to the sidewalk that I had to begin carrying E and the toy lawn mower that we had to bring along on our adventure. You never know when something will need to be mowed. E was instructed to hold my hand and agreed but after the second car went by he saide "carry you" which means I carry him. Then he told me he was "kiyrd" which is how he says 'scared'. To get back home we had to walk past the park.
Of course the park must be visited. We must swing on swings and slide down slides and do all the things you do at the park. But it's getting late and we are losing daylight. It's time to go home and "eat eat". "Carry you!" Mommy's back is starting to ache and so E gets a horsey ride which is easier on the back -- ask any chiropractor.
We head to the patio and put the home lawnmower away first. Next stop front door. Deadbolt key is a perfect fit, doorknob works like a charm, OH MY GOD THE CHAIN IS ON THE DOOR. "AH SHIT WE'RE LOCKED OUT, again."
"Lock out?"
"Yes honey we are locked out."
What to do, what to do quick —— drive to the police station and ask for help.
"Lock out? Lock out?" The entire way to the police station E said "Lock out?"
We pull into the desolate parking lot and park the car. I get E out of his seat and walk up the flight of stairs to the main entrance. "Hello, I was hoping we'd never see the inside of this bldg but here we are." I told the woman behind the desk my sad tale of woe. There was an officer standing a few feet from her behind the thick bullet proof glass that separated us from them. He asked questions I thought I had just answered with my statement. Is he hard of hearing, looking for clarification or stupid? I began to lean toward the latter when he asked if I had walked from home.
I was instructed to go home, that an officer would be there to help. The entire way to home E repeated his new mantra "Lock out?" When I returned home there were 2 cars and 2 cops. They got out their flashlights and began asking if all the windows were locked. "Yes or they have the stops on them so you can only open them an inch or two." The first officer's hand reached around the door and tried to move the chain. Then the second officer's hand reached around the door and tried to move the chain. Did they really think I hadn't tried that?
I told them "You have my permission to cut the chain."
This caused them to pause and consider their options. "We could call the fire department, they are the ones with the bold cutters," Officer 1 said to Officer 2. Of course my mind sees the most outrageous things in that moment. I envision a ladder truck pulling up, lights flashing, sirens wailing and a guy runs up with a pair of bolt cutters, snips the chain and runs back into the truck. It's so very Monte Python.
"How about a coat hanger or something?" I suggest. When we were on our walk I saw a wire coat hanger on the ground a few houses away. Officer 2 starts working on the chain with his knife. Officer 1 leaves for a few minutes and returns with a slim jim. He bends and stretches and wiggles. I am holding the door open for the officers because it's a nice thing to do and it affords me the best view of the proceedings and of E who is still asking everyone "Lock out?"
E is growing bored with watching Officer 2's backside and begins to wander away. I try to set the lock on the door closer and go after him. It's not working. Now what? After a quick check Officer 1 informs me that it's on backwards. He wanders away as well and goes to check out the back door. E follows. "EH, EH," I stopped him from trampling the plants and told him to use the path. Officer 1's flash light goes on and illuminates E's way. Just then the door opens.
Hallelujah!
E helped make dinner. He put carrots in the steamer basket (well away from the steamer). He adopted a new mantra as well, "cook 'em". While the carrots steamed E watched a Barney video (it may be worse than I originally thought, but that's a blog for another day) and I called my sister. She had a similar tale to tell. About a decade or so ago the bar to her slider fell into the track locking her on her 2nd floor deck. She was able to MacGyver her way out by tying her shoelaces together to drag a phone over to her so she could call someone with a key to her apartment. Sis and I had a good laugh about both situations.
Dinner and E's bedtime routine were very late because of this "set back" He finally got in bed at 10pm. I feel like such a bad mother.
-------------
Monday we went to the mall to get my sister's birthday present. A trip to the mall after work always means eating out and this time we went to Sbarro. We got there just before the dinner crowd which was a poor bit of planning on my part. The food we got was not so fresh and not so good. But if it's pizza E doesn't care -- he eats it!
After dinner we went to the Disney store for the gift and then visited a couple of nearby children's clothing shops looking for green sweats for his halloween costume. No luck on the sweats so it's time to go home. It's getting late and E needs a bath.
The last few minutes of the trip E wanted to be carried, he was getting tired. I set him down outside the mall entrance and began the search for the keys. Not it the front purse pocket, or the back, not in the pants pockets, not in the backpack...Awh damn not again. I pick E up and walk to the car. There they are, dangling from the ignition waiting to do their job.
I turn and walk back to the mall. E asked "Key go?" This becomes his new mantra. I head for the first store with a visible sales person. GNC. The guy is sitting is some massage chair in the middle of the entrance -- obviously demonstrating the merits of the merchandise. I asked him if mall security handles lock outs, do you have their number, can you call them. I am instructed to wait outside the mall near his store (duh!) and an "officer" will be there soon.
I do as I'm told and the rent a cop shows up quickly. I tell him where my car is—it's in a garage spot—and he says he'll meet me there. After I fill out some paperwork he jumps out of his security vehicle with a slim jim and goes to work.
I hear a chorus of "Key go?" all the way home.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Tuesday Mourning
The house is finally quiet. The baby is asleep, the weekend guests have gone home and now it's time for a good cry.
This weekend my father visited to watch E on Monday when I went to traffic court. Sunday night he informed me that my cats, Penny and Gwen, have run away. I have only now been able to sob in the silence as I think about what that means.
I had to let them go a year ago when I was told that my constantly recurring colds were really allergies. I cried in the doctor's office when I heard the news. What was I going to do with them? How could I live with them or without them? For 3 years they had been my family. The ones waiting for me when I came home at night, the ones who curled up at the foot of the bed, the ones who sat in my lap as I typed, the ones counting on me for all their needs.
My father took them in and promised they would return to my house (wherever that might be) when I had my allergies under control with shots. This summer Dad came to the new house and worked for 7 weeks to get it to a livable state for someone with allergies. He replaced the carpets with laminate flooring and a whole lot more. While he was away my sister, who lives in the country at the edge of a forest, took the cats. My indoor cats were not allowed in her house because she has a dog and because in their recent ventures into the great outdoors they picked up feline/canine hitchhikers. When my father returned home his house was over run with fleas.
According to initial reports they seemed satisfied with life in the garage. Food, water, a box and plenty of space to explore. The garage door was left ajar so they could come and go as they pleased. Penny became a good hunter, hanging out near the chicken coop which no longer houses chickens but is a favorite hang out for mice. Gwen, my scaredy cat, lived under the stairs in the garage that lead into the house. She came out only for the essentials -- food, water and litter. The last time my sister saw them Gwen had decided to venture out of the garage and they were both spotted in the yard. Since then the food hasn't been going down in the bowl much. There was speculation that Penny had become such a good mouser that dry food was no longer necessary.
According to Dad they haven't been found on the road dead. There have been no "found cat" postings in the local grocery stores, Sis has looked. I don't know if she has posted any "lost cat" flyers but I'd be surprised if she has. We are all hoping they will come back when the weather starts to turn, but I'm not going to hold my breath.
So now the real good cry begins, the realization that I will most likely never see them again, that I will not be able to hug them, pet them, tug gently on a tail as they rub against my leg.
I hope cats don't feel emotions the same way humans do. I hope they do not feel I abandoned them. I have felt abandoned, left alone when I needed someone most -- it sucks big time. I hope they are alive and together and happy wherever they are. Perhaps some family has adopted them. I can only hope.
This weekend my father visited to watch E on Monday when I went to traffic court. Sunday night he informed me that my cats, Penny and Gwen, have run away. I have only now been able to sob in the silence as I think about what that means.
I had to let them go a year ago when I was told that my constantly recurring colds were really allergies. I cried in the doctor's office when I heard the news. What was I going to do with them? How could I live with them or without them? For 3 years they had been my family. The ones waiting for me when I came home at night, the ones who curled up at the foot of the bed, the ones who sat in my lap as I typed, the ones counting on me for all their needs.
My father took them in and promised they would return to my house (wherever that might be) when I had my allergies under control with shots. This summer Dad came to the new house and worked for 7 weeks to get it to a livable state for someone with allergies. He replaced the carpets with laminate flooring and a whole lot more. While he was away my sister, who lives in the country at the edge of a forest, took the cats. My indoor cats were not allowed in her house because she has a dog and because in their recent ventures into the great outdoors they picked up feline/canine hitchhikers. When my father returned home his house was over run with fleas.
According to initial reports they seemed satisfied with life in the garage. Food, water, a box and plenty of space to explore. The garage door was left ajar so they could come and go as they pleased. Penny became a good hunter, hanging out near the chicken coop which no longer houses chickens but is a favorite hang out for mice. Gwen, my scaredy cat, lived under the stairs in the garage that lead into the house. She came out only for the essentials -- food, water and litter. The last time my sister saw them Gwen had decided to venture out of the garage and they were both spotted in the yard. Since then the food hasn't been going down in the bowl much. There was speculation that Penny had become such a good mouser that dry food was no longer necessary.
According to Dad they haven't been found on the road dead. There have been no "found cat" postings in the local grocery stores, Sis has looked. I don't know if she has posted any "lost cat" flyers but I'd be surprised if she has. We are all hoping they will come back when the weather starts to turn, but I'm not going to hold my breath.
So now the real good cry begins, the realization that I will most likely never see them again, that I will not be able to hug them, pet them, tug gently on a tail as they rub against my leg.
I hope cats don't feel emotions the same way humans do. I hope they do not feel I abandoned them. I have felt abandoned, left alone when I needed someone most -- it sucks big time. I hope they are alive and together and happy wherever they are. Perhaps some family has adopted them. I can only hope.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
It's my potty...
E pooped in the potty this evening!
This is a great day. It's strange to think such a mundane activity as taking a dump could cause such excitement but it has, in me at least. He seemed rather unimpressed. He was more interested in showing me that he knew the difference between Blue and Yellow in his Winnie the Pooh book about colors. This impressed the hell out of me as well because just a couple of days ago he wasn't able to match the sound button with the picture of the button in the book.
I know he is a long way from being potty trained and that there will be set backs and misses but this is the first time he has actually made a deposit so to speak. The teachers at daycaare have been working on potty training since he was transfered to the toddler room 4 months ago. "Working with" means making the potty available and making a BIG DEAL out of anyone using the bathroom. Even the teacher gets a round of applause when she flushes.
One evening about a month ago E did a wonderful Red Hot Chili Peppers impersonation (I think it was when they were promoting Blood Sugar Sex Magik). Wearing only socks and sandles he leaned over his potty looking all the world like Anthony Keidis about to be frisked by the cops and began making pissing sounds. PSSSssss PSSSssss PSSSsss. His teacher told me she makes that sound when they are attempting to use the potty so they know what it's supposed to sound like.
Well must go clean the potty :D
This is a great day. It's strange to think such a mundane activity as taking a dump could cause such excitement but it has, in me at least. He seemed rather unimpressed. He was more interested in showing me that he knew the difference between Blue and Yellow in his Winnie the Pooh book about colors. This impressed the hell out of me as well because just a couple of days ago he wasn't able to match the sound button with the picture of the button in the book.
I know he is a long way from being potty trained and that there will be set backs and misses but this is the first time he has actually made a deposit so to speak. The teachers at daycaare have been working on potty training since he was transfered to the toddler room 4 months ago. "Working with" means making the potty available and making a BIG DEAL out of anyone using the bathroom. Even the teacher gets a round of applause when she flushes.
One evening about a month ago E did a wonderful Red Hot Chili Peppers impersonation (I think it was when they were promoting Blood Sugar Sex Magik). Wearing only socks and sandles he leaned over his potty looking all the world like Anthony Keidis about to be frisked by the cops and began making pissing sounds. PSSSssss PSSSssss PSSSsss. His teacher told me she makes that sound when they are attempting to use the potty so they know what it's supposed to sound like.
Well must go clean the potty :D
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Does it go both ways Smoking Ghost?
My foot hurts! It's not a minor annoyance when I'm walking, only when I'm laying down putting no pressure on it at all. When I'm walking it's nearly debilatiating, I walk with a pronounced limp. This started today so I haven't seen a doctor, chiropractor, reflexologist, voodou priestess or witch doctor yet.
13. Lung
17. Diaphragm
18. Solar Plexus
9. Arm
According to "New Choices in Natural Healing" these are the reflexology touch points where the knot of pain is in my foot. My question to all is: Does it go both ways? Could this pain indicate a problem in the aforementioned body parts. I have mild asthma and I could have problems with my lungs -- of course my chest would probably hurt more than it does if it were severe.
I have noticed a smoke smell in my house the past couple of days. As an asthmatic this is particularly troubling. Smoking is NOT ALLOWED in my home (or car) so I know it wasn't one of my guests. It's like the smoking ghost that lived in my last office. Smoking was not allowed in the building but everytime you passed certain points in the hall you could smell cigarette smoke. There were no vents nearby, and no one ever saw anyone smoking, so it was attributed to the smoking ghost.
The Fiesta was a minor success. Everyone seemed to have a good time but I was so busy getting the house together pre-party that I didn't get to the food until everyone was here. Several people helped in the kitchen with different things so I got to visit with the girls but I would rather have been outside with the whole gang. I know I will never be able to have a party completely inside my home because of the smoking restrictions. I also know some people will never spend more than the minimaly required time (grab a drink, take a piss) in my house.
13. Lung
17. Diaphragm
18. Solar Plexus
9. Arm
According to "New Choices in Natural Healing" these are the reflexology touch points where the knot of pain is in my foot. My question to all is: Does it go both ways? Could this pain indicate a problem in the aforementioned body parts. I have mild asthma and I could have problems with my lungs -- of course my chest would probably hurt more than it does if it were severe.
I have noticed a smoke smell in my house the past couple of days. As an asthmatic this is particularly troubling. Smoking is NOT ALLOWED in my home (or car) so I know it wasn't one of my guests. It's like the smoking ghost that lived in my last office. Smoking was not allowed in the building but everytime you passed certain points in the hall you could smell cigarette smoke. There were no vents nearby, and no one ever saw anyone smoking, so it was attributed to the smoking ghost.
The Fiesta was a minor success. Everyone seemed to have a good time but I was so busy getting the house together pre-party that I didn't get to the food until everyone was here. Several people helped in the kitchen with different things so I got to visit with the girls but I would rather have been outside with the whole gang. I know I will never be able to have a party completely inside my home because of the smoking restrictions. I also know some people will never spend more than the minimaly required time (grab a drink, take a piss) in my house.
Saturday, September 04, 2004
The Great Children's Music Debate
The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round...
Yeah mommy! Bus! Bus!
Mommy no sing!
Every morning it's the same thing. I am asked to sing the wheels on the bus and every morning E goes goofy when we see school busses, which are plentiful in the 'burbs especially when you live next door to a school. I was hoping to find a tape or CD with that song on it so someone else could do the singing in the morning -- I'm really not a morning person.
Went to Barnes and Noble with Mom and Sis and E and there was the Great Children's Music Debate. No Wiggles they cried -- the sales lady called them Human Teletubbies. I have done the research on the Wiggles, I like their music and don't mind them. They are married, probably with kids of their own. All but Jeff are trained to be kindergarten teachers -- they met while in early childhood ed classes the Wiggles started as a school project.
I picked up a Sesame Street CD. "Why can't he listen to your radio station?" my sister asked. The glaring look told her not to continue. Then she saw the Veggie Tales CDs and tried to push that on me. "Don't you want him to learn about God and Jesus?"
"He goes to a Christian school and attends mass regularly. He is learning about God. We don't need to bring talking vegetables into the house to teach him anything." Talk about creepy. I've never liked giving inanimate objects the power of speech. I don't mind animals talking but tomatoes give me the willies.
I settled on a Disney CD with Pooh on the cover. The songs are OK but the main thing is that "The wheels of the bus" is on it.
E sings on his own a lot too. The other day when he was sitting on the potty he started to pull on his penis (it's amazing how far a foreskin with stretch) and sing Happy Birthday. Maybe he's confusing potty with party.
Yeah mommy! Bus! Bus!
Mommy no sing!
Every morning it's the same thing. I am asked to sing the wheels on the bus and every morning E goes goofy when we see school busses, which are plentiful in the 'burbs especially when you live next door to a school. I was hoping to find a tape or CD with that song on it so someone else could do the singing in the morning -- I'm really not a morning person.
Went to Barnes and Noble with Mom and Sis and E and there was the Great Children's Music Debate. No Wiggles they cried -- the sales lady called them Human Teletubbies. I have done the research on the Wiggles, I like their music and don't mind them. They are married, probably with kids of their own. All but Jeff are trained to be kindergarten teachers -- they met while in early childhood ed classes the Wiggles started as a school project.
I picked up a Sesame Street CD. "Why can't he listen to your radio station?" my sister asked. The glaring look told her not to continue. Then she saw the Veggie Tales CDs and tried to push that on me. "Don't you want him to learn about God and Jesus?"
"He goes to a Christian school and attends mass regularly. He is learning about God. We don't need to bring talking vegetables into the house to teach him anything." Talk about creepy. I've never liked giving inanimate objects the power of speech. I don't mind animals talking but tomatoes give me the willies.
I settled on a Disney CD with Pooh on the cover. The songs are OK but the main thing is that "The wheels of the bus" is on it.
E sings on his own a lot too. The other day when he was sitting on the potty he started to pull on his penis (it's amazing how far a foreskin with stretch) and sing Happy Birthday. Maybe he's confusing potty with party.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Confessions of an Aliterate
In response to "Aliteracy: a sad rant " by http://pbe56.blogspot.com/
I don't read books regularly, never did. I didn't enjoyed it that much as a kid -- it was always WORK. It was an assignment, it was a punishment, it was what you did out of desperation. I read slowly and sometimes it takes too long to get to the point in a story where I really want to continue. My mind wanders and I can think of a million (ok maybe just 100s) of things that I need to get done or that would be more fun.
Growing up our house was a book-free zone other than school books (how lonely they must have been). My father isn't a reader and my mother wasn't around. Dad had a few books; the Bible, which was rarely opened (as Catholics we took their word on it), "Dibs in Search of Self" and some pop psychology book of the early 70s like "I'm OK, You're OK". The latter 2 were probably gifts from his girlfriend at the time to help him understand her autistic son who shared my father's name. I NEVER saw him read these books. He read the newspaper and that was it. He was busy raising 2 kids on his own, he didn't even watch much TV he was doing other things -- what those things were now I couldn't tell you.
I went to a public school until the 4th grade when I was transferred to a Catholic school. In the 4th grade we were going to learn about mythology in the book series featuring Sam and Ann and their pets Nip, the dog, and Tab, the cat. When I got to the Catholic school I was excited to start the mythology part of the series. I was informed that in that school they finished those books in the 2nd grade. I was 2 years behind everyone and I never really felt too great about my reading abilities since then.
When I went to college as an honors student I was required to read 15 novels from the 19th century in a 2 semester humanities course that also covered philosopy, art history, and political science. This was on top of the Honors English class that had us reading Russian literature of the same period plus the other courses in my full load. The first novel was "Pride and Predjudice" I never finished it. I learned beyond a doubt that I was not a Jane Austen fan. I don't mind the movies but I can't hack the books. "Adjective, adjective, adjective, noun, noun, adjective...verb." (Some action sweety, some dialogue. I have an imagination I'll determine what color her freakin' dress was for myself. Unless it's vital to the story let me do some of the work.) Again starting out behind and never quite catching up wih the pack.
In my English class I met the valedictorian of one of the local schools and she told me that when she got to a word she didn't understand she's just skip it. I was flabbergasted. You're supposed to look it up! You're supposed to use that opportunity to increase your vocabulary. Maybe this is why I was so far behind. I have excellent reading comprehension and a farily good vocabulary for an aliterate maybe this is the reason.
A few years ago I decided I was going to read a "classic". Don't ask why but I decided to tackle Dicken's "David Copperfield". You gave me a lot of grief over choosing such a hard book. I visited death's door while I was reading this book (thank goodness Death was out of town for the week and I got tired of waitig for him.) Sound and direct light were painful so radio and TV were out of the question. All I could do was read in short spurts. I slept with the book in my hand and a dictionary beside me. I looked up several words a page in the beginning, mainly antiquaited words having to do with transportation.
Since then most of my reading has been academic. Text books for my ever-pending MA mostly. I prefer non-fiction. I often find myself making up stories and ignoring the words on the page in front of me when I read fiction. And reference books are the best -- any book you can open to any page and it makes sense -- now that's a good book.
Within the last couple of years my father and I had a conversation about reading -- his current girlfriend reads magazines like crazy and is always buying books. Unlike me though she actually gets a chance to read most of them. Dad and I both wish we were readers, we both wish we enjoyed it more, that it wasn't such a chore. I told him it takes practice to get good at anything. He thinks he's too old though and is resigned to be aliterate.
I am still hopeful. I want E to be a reader. Not the kind of reader his father is, he reads to the exclusion of all else. He has a very strong antisocial streak and would love to fill ALL his time with reading. He even reads on the job. Right now E loves books the way I love books. I love they way they look and feel, if there is a good story in it bonus. I hope he learns to love reading just as much as he loves to look at the pictures now.
Once again the blog has stolen hours of my evening and I must go to bed. I probably should have been reading but I decided to write instead. I can justify blogging as it is my only form of relaxation and entertainment. My new home is the black hole for broadcast media. I have no TV or radio reception here. This is where the Bermuda Triangle got all its best ideas.
I don't read books regularly, never did. I didn't enjoyed it that much as a kid -- it was always WORK. It was an assignment, it was a punishment, it was what you did out of desperation. I read slowly and sometimes it takes too long to get to the point in a story where I really want to continue. My mind wanders and I can think of a million (ok maybe just 100s) of things that I need to get done or that would be more fun.
Growing up our house was a book-free zone other than school books (how lonely they must have been). My father isn't a reader and my mother wasn't around. Dad had a few books; the Bible, which was rarely opened (as Catholics we took their word on it), "Dibs in Search of Self" and some pop psychology book of the early 70s like "I'm OK, You're OK". The latter 2 were probably gifts from his girlfriend at the time to help him understand her autistic son who shared my father's name. I NEVER saw him read these books. He read the newspaper and that was it. He was busy raising 2 kids on his own, he didn't even watch much TV he was doing other things -- what those things were now I couldn't tell you.
I went to a public school until the 4th grade when I was transferred to a Catholic school. In the 4th grade we were going to learn about mythology in the book series featuring Sam and Ann and their pets Nip, the dog, and Tab, the cat. When I got to the Catholic school I was excited to start the mythology part of the series. I was informed that in that school they finished those books in the 2nd grade. I was 2 years behind everyone and I never really felt too great about my reading abilities since then.
When I went to college as an honors student I was required to read 15 novels from the 19th century in a 2 semester humanities course that also covered philosopy, art history, and political science. This was on top of the Honors English class that had us reading Russian literature of the same period plus the other courses in my full load. The first novel was "Pride and Predjudice" I never finished it. I learned beyond a doubt that I was not a Jane Austen fan. I don't mind the movies but I can't hack the books. "Adjective, adjective, adjective, noun, noun, adjective...verb." (Some action sweety, some dialogue. I have an imagination I'll determine what color her freakin' dress was for myself. Unless it's vital to the story let me do some of the work.) Again starting out behind and never quite catching up wih the pack.
In my English class I met the valedictorian of one of the local schools and she told me that when she got to a word she didn't understand she's just skip it. I was flabbergasted. You're supposed to look it up! You're supposed to use that opportunity to increase your vocabulary. Maybe this is why I was so far behind. I have excellent reading comprehension and a farily good vocabulary for an aliterate maybe this is the reason.
A few years ago I decided I was going to read a "classic". Don't ask why but I decided to tackle Dicken's "David Copperfield". You gave me a lot of grief over choosing such a hard book. I visited death's door while I was reading this book (thank goodness Death was out of town for the week and I got tired of waitig for him.) Sound and direct light were painful so radio and TV were out of the question. All I could do was read in short spurts. I slept with the book in my hand and a dictionary beside me. I looked up several words a page in the beginning, mainly antiquaited words having to do with transportation.
Since then most of my reading has been academic. Text books for my ever-pending MA mostly. I prefer non-fiction. I often find myself making up stories and ignoring the words on the page in front of me when I read fiction. And reference books are the best -- any book you can open to any page and it makes sense -- now that's a good book.
Within the last couple of years my father and I had a conversation about reading -- his current girlfriend reads magazines like crazy and is always buying books. Unlike me though she actually gets a chance to read most of them. Dad and I both wish we were readers, we both wish we enjoyed it more, that it wasn't such a chore. I told him it takes practice to get good at anything. He thinks he's too old though and is resigned to be aliterate.
I am still hopeful. I want E to be a reader. Not the kind of reader his father is, he reads to the exclusion of all else. He has a very strong antisocial streak and would love to fill ALL his time with reading. He even reads on the job. Right now E loves books the way I love books. I love they way they look and feel, if there is a good story in it bonus. I hope he learns to love reading just as much as he loves to look at the pictures now.
Once again the blog has stolen hours of my evening and I must go to bed. I probably should have been reading but I decided to write instead. I can justify blogging as it is my only form of relaxation and entertainment. My new home is the black hole for broadcast media. I have no TV or radio reception here. This is where the Bermuda Triangle got all its best ideas.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
'Passion' Sells 4.1M Copies in One Day
Wed Sep 1, 5:30 PM ET
By ANTHONY BREZNICAN, AP Entertainment Writer
LOS ANGELES - The second coming of Mel Gibson (news)'s biblical epic "The Passion of the Christ" sold 4.1 million DVD copies by Wednesday after only one day in stores.
In terms of one-day sales, Fox is describing the movie as the best-selling R-rated film of all time and best-selling non-English language film of all time. Most DVD sales trackers, however, only divide rankings between animation and live-action.
"The Passion," starring Jim Caviezel as Jesus, earned more than $370 million at the North American box office.
Gibson's film was also one of the most controversial movies in years. Besides its violent depiction of the crucifixion, some Jewish organizations complained it might spark a rise in anti-Semitism by blaming ancient Jewish people for killing Christ.
Churches and religious groups were active in trying to promote the movie to their congregations, sometimes buying huge blocks of theater tickets for sale to parishioners. Many DVDs were paid for well in advance and picked up Tuesday.
Filmed in Aramaic and Latin, the movie was sold with English subtitles on VHS for $24.98, and English and Spanish subtitles on DVD for $29.98. Many retailers are cutting the price to $15 to $20, Hettrick said.
Since the "Passion" that went on sale Tuesday includes only the movie — no bonus features or documentaries that are common on most discs — a more fully loaded version of the DVD is likely in the future.>>
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I'd like to see it, never got to the theater when it was playing there. Something about living as a gypsy and needing childcare, and, and, and. Now that I can buy it from WalMart Music for $9.72 maybe I'll get it there and be able to watch it at my leisure. I clicked on that link and the site was unavailable. I'm thinking the orders for this DVD overloaded Sam's Big Computer and it's dead for the time being.
How much money does Mel Gibson need anyway?
One of the sales girls at work today said she's NEVER going to see this movie, "I know the story. I know how it ends -- he dies on a cross, big deal." I couldn't believe it. My opinion of her wasn't too high to begin with. How can you take someone who says "Awesome" every other word seriously. The other day she was complaining. "I'm 25. I'm like an old lady." I'm 10 months from 40 and this complaint didn't sit well with me. I'm not age obsessed (I act 28, look ??, and at times feel 98) but come on.
_________________________________
TV free day. Went to IKEA (home of all things Swedish) after work today to eat and shop. Needed to get a couple of things before the big Fiesta. E had a great time playing with the toys in the children's section and I'm already trying to figure out what I want to get him (and am willing to let him have) for is Bday in November and Xmas. There is a great plush farm set there that he really liked but the trains REALLY kept his attention. Do I want him to have a train set at home or do I want that to be one of the enticements for library visits? The branch near us has a Brio train set and you can get the cars and engine from the librarian -- he loves it.
By ANTHONY BREZNICAN, AP Entertainment Writer
LOS ANGELES - The second coming of Mel Gibson (news)'s biblical epic "The Passion of the Christ" sold 4.1 million DVD copies by Wednesday after only one day in stores.
In terms of one-day sales, Fox is describing the movie as the best-selling R-rated film of all time and best-selling non-English language film of all time. Most DVD sales trackers, however, only divide rankings between animation and live-action.
"The Passion," starring Jim Caviezel as Jesus, earned more than $370 million at the North American box office.
Gibson's film was also one of the most controversial movies in years. Besides its violent depiction of the crucifixion, some Jewish organizations complained it might spark a rise in anti-Semitism by blaming ancient Jewish people for killing Christ.
Churches and religious groups were active in trying to promote the movie to their congregations, sometimes buying huge blocks of theater tickets for sale to parishioners. Many DVDs were paid for well in advance and picked up Tuesday.
Filmed in Aramaic and Latin, the movie was sold with English subtitles on VHS for $24.98, and English and Spanish subtitles on DVD for $29.98. Many retailers are cutting the price to $15 to $20, Hettrick said.
Since the "Passion" that went on sale Tuesday includes only the movie — no bonus features or documentaries that are common on most discs — a more fully loaded version of the DVD is likely in the future.>>
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I'd like to see it, never got to the theater when it was playing there. Something about living as a gypsy and needing childcare, and, and, and. Now that I can buy it from WalMart Music for $9.72 maybe I'll get it there and be able to watch it at my leisure. I clicked on that link and the site was unavailable. I'm thinking the orders for this DVD overloaded Sam's Big Computer and it's dead for the time being.
How much money does Mel Gibson need anyway?
One of the sales girls at work today said she's NEVER going to see this movie, "I know the story. I know how it ends -- he dies on a cross, big deal." I couldn't believe it. My opinion of her wasn't too high to begin with. How can you take someone who says "Awesome" every other word seriously. The other day she was complaining. "I'm 25. I'm like an old lady." I'm 10 months from 40 and this complaint didn't sit well with me. I'm not age obsessed (I act 28, look ??, and at times feel 98) but come on.
_________________________________
TV free day. Went to IKEA (home of all things Swedish) after work today to eat and shop. Needed to get a couple of things before the big Fiesta. E had a great time playing with the toys in the children's section and I'm already trying to figure out what I want to get him (and am willing to let him have) for is Bday in November and Xmas. There is a great plush farm set there that he really liked but the trains REALLY kept his attention. Do I want him to have a train set at home or do I want that to be one of the enticements for library visits? The branch near us has a Brio train set and you can get the cars and engine from the librarian -- he loves it.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
the Glorious 1 hr lunch
I told my boss today I needed my hour lunch back and I was granted the schedule change. I came home for lunch today and checked the mail, made my bed (first time since I've lived here), unpacked 2 boxes, put away 2 baskets of clean clothes, sorted the dirty laundry and hung 2 pictures. It was WONDERFUL!
A couple of months ago Big P. Co., in an attempt to cut costs (save money, suck more life out of its employees), changed from a 37.5 hr week to a 40 hr week. We are not paid anymore but we should be grateful we still have our jobs. We could come in earlier, stay later, or take only 30 minute lunches. I opted for short lunch so I'd have more time with E. It was a BAD decision. I can't get anything done with a toddler up my butt. Grocery shopping is better alone, vacuuming is better alone, cleaning anything is better alone.
From now on I will have 40 minutes at home (I live 10 mintues away) or 50 minutes of shopping time (the shops are much closer to work) at lunch. I can't wait to get this started. The entire rest of the week is booked with shopping for the Labor Day Fiesta at my place this Sunday. YaYa's place is under construction so she isn't doing it the year. I'm making the Chicago tribe trek to the 'blurbs for Mexican fare. I'd rather grill but don't have one yet -- these things take time -- and money. Chix enchiladas, guacamole, carnitas from the produce market, and whatever shows up in the arms of my guests. Can't wait.
It's good to have a party deadline for getting a house in order. So much to do and now I have a really good reason to do it. Dave Barry said something about the purpose of parties was to motivate you to clean your house. So true. If they see unpainted patches so be it, but dirt, never! ba ha ha
It's late and I need to start sleeping at night or I won't enjoy the party this weekend.
A couple of months ago Big P. Co., in an attempt to cut costs (save money, suck more life out of its employees), changed from a 37.5 hr week to a 40 hr week. We are not paid anymore but we should be grateful we still have our jobs. We could come in earlier, stay later, or take only 30 minute lunches. I opted for short lunch so I'd have more time with E. It was a BAD decision. I can't get anything done with a toddler up my butt. Grocery shopping is better alone, vacuuming is better alone, cleaning anything is better alone.
From now on I will have 40 minutes at home (I live 10 mintues away) or 50 minutes of shopping time (the shops are much closer to work) at lunch. I can't wait to get this started. The entire rest of the week is booked with shopping for the Labor Day Fiesta at my place this Sunday. YaYa's place is under construction so she isn't doing it the year. I'm making the Chicago tribe trek to the 'blurbs for Mexican fare. I'd rather grill but don't have one yet -- these things take time -- and money. Chix enchiladas, guacamole, carnitas from the produce market, and whatever shows up in the arms of my guests. Can't wait.
It's good to have a party deadline for getting a house in order. So much to do and now I have a really good reason to do it. Dave Barry said something about the purpose of parties was to motivate you to clean your house. So true. If they see unpainted patches so be it, but dirt, never! ba ha ha
It's late and I need to start sleeping at night or I won't enjoy the party this weekend.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Seasonale depression, the lockout and the ears
Seasonale isn't for me. The website, the ads, all the literature put out by Duramed Pharmaceuticals, Inc., a subsidiary of Barr Pharmaceuticals, Inc. shows women so happy about their lack of periods and lack of pregnancy they're dancing and jumping for joy. You can imagine them saying, "Yea! I only get my period 4 times a year, this is fantastic!"
The fine print says, "Risks with SEASONALE® are similar to those with all birth control pills. Most side effects are not serious and those that are occur infrequently. The convenience of fewer planned menses (4 per year instead of 13 per year) should be weighed against the inconvenience of increased intermenstrual bleeding and/or spotting. Serious risks, which can be life threatening, include blood clots, stroke, and heart attack. Cigarette smoking increases the risk of serious side effects, especially if you are over 35. Women who use birth control pills should not smoke. Some women should not use birth control pills, including women who have blood clots, certain cancers, a history of heart attack or stroke, as well as those who are or may be pregnant. If you are a heavy smoker and over age 35, you should not take SEASONALE®. Birth control pills do not protect against HIV infection (AIDS) and other sexually transmitted diseases."
According to Drugs.com (http://www.drugs.com/meds/seasonale) "The following adverse reactions have been reported in patients receiving oral contraceptives and are believed to be drug related: • Nausea • Gastrointestinal symptoms (such as abdominal cramps and bloating) • Migraine headache • Mood changes, including depression" This is my short list. The complete list was MUCH longer. I felt like I was pregnant — the nausea was that bad and the depression was so bad that death seemed like a good idea. I took Seasonale® for 3 wks and have been off of for a week, the depression is better though not gone completely. Death no longer sounds like a good idea but, as long as E is taken care of, a 2-3 week coma sounds like an appropriate amount of rest.
-----
now what? is about the inevitable hiccups that come along in life, especially life with a toddler. This weekend has definitely had its share. Yesterday we returned our videos to the library, went to the Save-O-Rama warehouse and then came home. We had a gallon of milk and 2 trays (you gotta buy 'em in bulk) of frozen lasagne E actually liked in the store demo and half a slice of the pizza we got from the concession stand. We got home and I took the Wiggles DVDs E had thrown on the floor of the back seat and put them in my backpack, I leaned oven and opened the rear passenger door so I could get E out without unlocking the door. I got out of the car and opened the back driver's side door and got the milk and lasagne. I locked the driver's side door which locks all the doors, shut it and the rear door and walked around the car and got E out. Half way to the house I realized -- did you guess it?--I left the keys in the ignition.
now what? I just moved here a month ago, I know NO ONE. I knock on the neighbor's door and introduce myself and told her my tale of woe. I ask if I can borrow a bit of space in her refridgerator and a phone. The neighbor is kind enough to put the perishable items in her fridge and lets me use her phone. Unfortunately she has 3 yappy dogs who are very likely louder when crated up so I have to take the phone outside. I don't know if I set a precedent with that move but we spent the next 3 hours outside.
I called my mom, who has a house key, and my sister, who has my car key, but they are both 40 minutes away and neither of them was home. I left messages and sat and waited. After 45 minutes the weather had turned cold, the skies were growing darker and the wind was picking up. E and I were in shorts and Ts and I wasn't interested in staying outside in a storm. While going through my bag -- what else was I going to do? -- I found my AAA card and noticed I am still a member. Wish I had thought of that 45 minutes ago. I asked to use the phone again and this time called someone who eventually responded. I thank God we weren't stranded on the side of the road it took about 20 minutes to talk to a real person and at least that long for her to get my information and find someone who could help. I was told "it'll be 90 minutes is that ok?"
"Well it's getting cold, we're wearing shorts and it looks like its going to rain. I'd like to get something quicker but I'll take what I can get".
"Just a minute while I put you on hold again so I can call someone else who might be quicker." 5 minutes into this "hold" the phone batteries died. We waited outside for the next hour and a half hoping someone, anyone, would show up. I took a lawn chair out to the car and tried to get E to nap on my lap - he was so tired but so uncomfortable too. The neighbor's 5 y.o. and his 3 y.o. cousin came out to play. E would attempt to nap no more, He wasn't about to miss anything.
The neighbor's brother arrived and was told of our situation he came out with a coat hanger that had been bent out of shape and offered to open the door. After looking at it and learning it had electronic doorlocks he decided it was not a good idea after all. Perhaps I should call the police to open it.
As we were walking back to the house I saw a tow truck on the street perpendicular to our circle street. I hoped it was for us. As it rounded the circle I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk." "The tow truck is here! The tow truck is here!" The entire operation took about 10 seconds.
By the time we got inside I had a headache from Hades and E was more than ready for a nap. We spent the next couple of hours napping and had a late dinner which he wasn't too interested in. After watching The Best of Kermit the Frog on Sesame Street video we went to bed. I actually was in bed before 10:30.
This morning while I was getting him dressed E complained that his ear hurt. This is a serious thing for any kid but for a kid with tubes it seems even bigger. So I called the doctor's office and scurried our butts in. We haven't changed doctors after moving but we have changed offices. There is one that is only 15 miles away vs. 40 miles away. We get there and his regular doctor has the Sunday hours this week. She takes us in right away, listens to him breathe, looks in his ears and says -- they look good, there is nothing wrong with him. ARGH!!!!!!!! One of his tubes looks like it has moved and is likely to fall out soon but that shouldn't be painful at all.
Everyday it's something. Tomorrow it will inevitably be something related to me not getting enough sleep as it is now 1am. Hope you are all doing well.
Later,
Kalyber
The fine print says, "Risks with SEASONALE® are similar to those with all birth control pills. Most side effects are not serious and those that are occur infrequently. The convenience of fewer planned menses (4 per year instead of 13 per year) should be weighed against the inconvenience of increased intermenstrual bleeding and/or spotting. Serious risks, which can be life threatening, include blood clots, stroke, and heart attack. Cigarette smoking increases the risk of serious side effects, especially if you are over 35. Women who use birth control pills should not smoke. Some women should not use birth control pills, including women who have blood clots, certain cancers, a history of heart attack or stroke, as well as those who are or may be pregnant. If you are a heavy smoker and over age 35, you should not take SEASONALE®. Birth control pills do not protect against HIV infection (AIDS) and other sexually transmitted diseases."
According to Drugs.com (http://www.drugs.com/meds/seasonale) "The following adverse reactions have been reported in patients receiving oral contraceptives and are believed to be drug related: • Nausea • Gastrointestinal symptoms (such as abdominal cramps and bloating) • Migraine headache • Mood changes, including depression" This is my short list. The complete list was MUCH longer. I felt like I was pregnant — the nausea was that bad and the depression was so bad that death seemed like a good idea. I took Seasonale® for 3 wks and have been off of for a week, the depression is better though not gone completely. Death no longer sounds like a good idea but, as long as E is taken care of, a 2-3 week coma sounds like an appropriate amount of rest.
-----
now what? is about the inevitable hiccups that come along in life, especially life with a toddler. This weekend has definitely had its share. Yesterday we returned our videos to the library, went to the Save-O-Rama warehouse and then came home. We had a gallon of milk and 2 trays (you gotta buy 'em in bulk) of frozen lasagne E actually liked in the store demo and half a slice of the pizza we got from the concession stand. We got home and I took the Wiggles DVDs E had thrown on the floor of the back seat and put them in my backpack, I leaned oven and opened the rear passenger door so I could get E out without unlocking the door. I got out of the car and opened the back driver's side door and got the milk and lasagne. I locked the driver's side door which locks all the doors, shut it and the rear door and walked around the car and got E out. Half way to the house I realized -- did you guess it?--I left the keys in the ignition.
now what? I just moved here a month ago, I know NO ONE. I knock on the neighbor's door and introduce myself and told her my tale of woe. I ask if I can borrow a bit of space in her refridgerator and a phone. The neighbor is kind enough to put the perishable items in her fridge and lets me use her phone. Unfortunately she has 3 yappy dogs who are very likely louder when crated up so I have to take the phone outside. I don't know if I set a precedent with that move but we spent the next 3 hours outside.
I called my mom, who has a house key, and my sister, who has my car key, but they are both 40 minutes away and neither of them was home. I left messages and sat and waited. After 45 minutes the weather had turned cold, the skies were growing darker and the wind was picking up. E and I were in shorts and Ts and I wasn't interested in staying outside in a storm. While going through my bag -- what else was I going to do? -- I found my AAA card and noticed I am still a member. Wish I had thought of that 45 minutes ago. I asked to use the phone again and this time called someone who eventually responded. I thank God we weren't stranded on the side of the road it took about 20 minutes to talk to a real person and at least that long for her to get my information and find someone who could help. I was told "it'll be 90 minutes is that ok?"
"Well it's getting cold, we're wearing shorts and it looks like its going to rain. I'd like to get something quicker but I'll take what I can get".
"Just a minute while I put you on hold again so I can call someone else who might be quicker." 5 minutes into this "hold" the phone batteries died. We waited outside for the next hour and a half hoping someone, anyone, would show up. I took a lawn chair out to the car and tried to get E to nap on my lap - he was so tired but so uncomfortable too. The neighbor's 5 y.o. and his 3 y.o. cousin came out to play. E would attempt to nap no more, He wasn't about to miss anything.
The neighbor's brother arrived and was told of our situation he came out with a coat hanger that had been bent out of shape and offered to open the door. After looking at it and learning it had electronic doorlocks he decided it was not a good idea after all. Perhaps I should call the police to open it.
As we were walking back to the house I saw a tow truck on the street perpendicular to our circle street. I hoped it was for us. As it rounded the circle I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk." "The tow truck is here! The tow truck is here!" The entire operation took about 10 seconds.
By the time we got inside I had a headache from Hades and E was more than ready for a nap. We spent the next couple of hours napping and had a late dinner which he wasn't too interested in. After watching The Best of Kermit the Frog on Sesame Street video we went to bed. I actually was in bed before 10:30.
This morning while I was getting him dressed E complained that his ear hurt. This is a serious thing for any kid but for a kid with tubes it seems even bigger. So I called the doctor's office and scurried our butts in. We haven't changed doctors after moving but we have changed offices. There is one that is only 15 miles away vs. 40 miles away. We get there and his regular doctor has the Sunday hours this week. She takes us in right away, listens to him breathe, looks in his ears and says -- they look good, there is nothing wrong with him. ARGH!!!!!!!! One of his tubes looks like it has moved and is likely to fall out soon but that shouldn't be painful at all.
Everyday it's something. Tomorrow it will inevitably be something related to me not getting enough sleep as it is now 1am. Hope you are all doing well.
Later,
Kalyber
Friday, August 27, 2004
The Night Shift is Never Over
The Night Shift is NEVER out of your system. It may go into remission like some kind of cancer but it is never really gone, really.
I worked nights for Big P. Co. for 6 years. I met a few nice people at work but it killed any chance of a normal life, any chance to party -- this is important when you're in your 20s and single, any chance to meet decent men who work regular hours. Well the night shift cancer is back. I haven't been getting to sleep until the wee hours of the morning (or the wee wee hours if you're my son).
It's not for lack of trying at times. I will go to bed and just lie there thinking, "Ok…NOW!" and it never works I'm still awake. Perhaps it's the enormous stress at work, or the list of things going through my head that need to be done. It may even be a song that gets stuck there, "La Dee Da Dee Dum, La Dee Da Dee Dum, What's the Name of that Song?" (To anyone reading this who may have a toddler who has seen the Sesame Street video "What's the Name of that Song?" my apologies I'm sure I have infected your brain with my tune virus.)
Or like tonight perhaps its the night shift. In the past 2 days I have had more energy and have gotten more done than in the past 2 months. Last night it was unpacking some art supplies and other boxes in the office whose contents could easily be put away. 23, 24, 25. The boxes just never seem to end.
Tonight it was cleaning up the utility room. I have been tripping over bottles of detergent and cleaning products as well as misc construction supplies since I moved in -- it's got to stop! After the stuff on the floor was cleared out I sanded the puttied patches on the walls, installed a couple of brackets with hooks on the end so I can have a drying rod when I need it. I even found a piece of metal pipe in the aforementioned construction supplies that is just the right size. I vacuumed the room but stopped short of washing the walls and scrubbing the floor. (I had to patch a few more nail or other holes, things hidden by the junk, so either activity would be a waste of time, besides I have to leave something for a Saturday night.) I also did a load of laundry and changed the sheets on the guest bed (which has to be done in the dark and in silence as the bed is in my son's room and he is asleep).
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the Night Shift doesn't begin until after 9pm when my son finally goes to bed/sleep. That means that between this blog and the work I'm getting done it's often 1 or 2 am before I doze off. It sucks not getting any sleep (my alarm clock says "Mommy" at about 6:30 every morning) but the high of accomplishing something important carries me through until I fully wake up at 2 or 3 pm.
Time for the cute kid stories…
Every week, either Friday after work or Saturday morning, E and I go to the library to get new videos for the week. You can check out 7 total so we get several for him and one for me. Last weekend we exchanged 2 Bear in the Big Blue House, 2 Sesame Steet and 1 Once Upon a Potty for 3 Wiggles and 2 Sesame Street. We went to the library tonight after a rare stop and Mickey Ds for a "hammer cheeeez". He was very excited about going to the library and didn't want to get out of the car to go eat, he kept repeating a word I couldn't understand. It finally dawned on me that he was saying "Library". I told him to call the library the "Book House" so that I could understand him but that he could still try to say that mouthful of a word any time.
It's never ceases to amaze me the things that come out of his mouth. He has a wonderful vocabulary for a 21 month old and the parents of other kids at his daycare center are shocked that he talks let alone so much and so well. He generally speaks in phrases and occassionally will utter a complete sentence -- "I don't want it" "I don't like it". One day last week we were driving home from daycare and out of the blue and as clear as a bell he said, "Mommy, Jesus died for me." I was shocked at the clarity of each word. I have been wondering ever since if he has any idea what those words mean literally or what they mean for his life as a Catholic or a Christian.
I worked nights for Big P. Co. for 6 years. I met a few nice people at work but it killed any chance of a normal life, any chance to party -- this is important when you're in your 20s and single, any chance to meet decent men who work regular hours. Well the night shift cancer is back. I haven't been getting to sleep until the wee hours of the morning (or the wee wee hours if you're my son).
It's not for lack of trying at times. I will go to bed and just lie there thinking, "Ok…NOW!" and it never works I'm still awake. Perhaps it's the enormous stress at work, or the list of things going through my head that need to be done. It may even be a song that gets stuck there, "La Dee Da Dee Dum, La Dee Da Dee Dum, What's the Name of that Song?" (To anyone reading this who may have a toddler who has seen the Sesame Street video "What's the Name of that Song?" my apologies I'm sure I have infected your brain with my tune virus.)
Or like tonight perhaps its the night shift. In the past 2 days I have had more energy and have gotten more done than in the past 2 months. Last night it was unpacking some art supplies and other boxes in the office whose contents could easily be put away. 23, 24, 25. The boxes just never seem to end.
Tonight it was cleaning up the utility room. I have been tripping over bottles of detergent and cleaning products as well as misc construction supplies since I moved in -- it's got to stop! After the stuff on the floor was cleared out I sanded the puttied patches on the walls, installed a couple of brackets with hooks on the end so I can have a drying rod when I need it. I even found a piece of metal pipe in the aforementioned construction supplies that is just the right size. I vacuumed the room but stopped short of washing the walls and scrubbing the floor. (I had to patch a few more nail or other holes, things hidden by the junk, so either activity would be a waste of time, besides I have to leave something for a Saturday night.) I also did a load of laundry and changed the sheets on the guest bed (which has to be done in the dark and in silence as the bed is in my son's room and he is asleep).
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the Night Shift doesn't begin until after 9pm when my son finally goes to bed/sleep. That means that between this blog and the work I'm getting done it's often 1 or 2 am before I doze off. It sucks not getting any sleep (my alarm clock says "Mommy" at about 6:30 every morning) but the high of accomplishing something important carries me through until I fully wake up at 2 or 3 pm.
Time for the cute kid stories…
Every week, either Friday after work or Saturday morning, E and I go to the library to get new videos for the week. You can check out 7 total so we get several for him and one for me. Last weekend we exchanged 2 Bear in the Big Blue House, 2 Sesame Steet and 1 Once Upon a Potty for 3 Wiggles and 2 Sesame Street. We went to the library tonight after a rare stop and Mickey Ds for a "hammer cheeeez". He was very excited about going to the library and didn't want to get out of the car to go eat, he kept repeating a word I couldn't understand. It finally dawned on me that he was saying "Library". I told him to call the library the "Book House" so that I could understand him but that he could still try to say that mouthful of a word any time.
It's never ceases to amaze me the things that come out of his mouth. He has a wonderful vocabulary for a 21 month old and the parents of other kids at his daycare center are shocked that he talks let alone so much and so well. He generally speaks in phrases and occassionally will utter a complete sentence -- "I don't want it" "I don't like it". One day last week we were driving home from daycare and out of the blue and as clear as a bell he said, "Mommy, Jesus died for me." I was shocked at the clarity of each word. I have been wondering ever since if he has any idea what those words mean literally or what they mean for his life as a Catholic or a Christian.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Necessity and Co. Decorators cause Neurosis
When I was house hunting I thought for sure all the places I looked at were mute. Nothing spoke to me. Even though it was empty I knew the moment I walked though the door of my current place I was home. It was built in 1973, decorated soon after that and NEVER changed. It had the half wall, half post divider at the entrance and the open Brady Bunch stairway. The kitchen was tiled, floor to ceiling in white subway tiles that featured flourishes around the edges in harvest gold. Occassionally there was a tile featuring an off-center, highly-stylized tulip in harvest gold and avocado green. I thought the decor was awful, but the layout was good.
Beyond ugly the place was not livable, not because it was in ill-repair but because it had carpet. I have allergies and can't live with carpet it was all going to have to be removed and replaced with a hardwood, tile or laminate floor. Budget restrictions forced the issue and laminate won. Enter Necessity and Co.
My father, from here on out known as St. PawPaw, moved into the place after close and spent the next 7 weeks working all day removing the offending dust mites and their home, gutting the kitchen and replacing it with the beautiful new kitchen I designed (no cabinets were removed, relocated or otherwise altered in the remodeling of this kitchen) and of course installing a house full of laminate flooring. The list of executive decisions was extensive, toddler safety and budgets ruled the day. Necessity and Co. was firmly dug in.
My sister offered me a butcher block countertop for the kitchen. Beautiful, free (the designers loved that part) and installed -- perfect. But wait there's more, she tells me, "It needs to be seasoned. It needs to have oily sealant rubbed into it regularly and you can't get water on it until it's seasoned properly. It could take weeks." I have been so busy actually "living" in my home that I haven't been able to put the stinky, choke the life out of you sealant on it. The neurosis begins.
Laminate flooring is firmly packed cardboard with a picture of wood on it covered in a thin layer of plastic. It looks and works great if the plastic layer is unharmed. To install laminate flooring you have to whack one end with a hammer really hard so the other end's tab will go into the neighboring boards slot. Sometimes when you hit firmly packed cardboard with a a thin layer of plastic on it the a thin layer of plastic chips a bit when it bangs into the neighboring boards. The neurosis grows.
I called the seller and asked what to do about these ocassional chips in the laminate. "Get a small brush or a Q-tip and put water sealer on the exposed cardboard. Whatever you do don't get it wet." The neurosis begins to multiply bunny fashion.
I love my new home but I am going absolutely crazy trying to keep everything in the kitchen dry.
Beyond ugly the place was not livable, not because it was in ill-repair but because it had carpet. I have allergies and can't live with carpet it was all going to have to be removed and replaced with a hardwood, tile or laminate floor. Budget restrictions forced the issue and laminate won. Enter Necessity and Co.
My father, from here on out known as St. PawPaw, moved into the place after close and spent the next 7 weeks working all day removing the offending dust mites and their home, gutting the kitchen and replacing it with the beautiful new kitchen I designed (no cabinets were removed, relocated or otherwise altered in the remodeling of this kitchen) and of course installing a house full of laminate flooring. The list of executive decisions was extensive, toddler safety and budgets ruled the day. Necessity and Co. was firmly dug in.
My sister offered me a butcher block countertop for the kitchen. Beautiful, free (the designers loved that part) and installed -- perfect. But wait there's more, she tells me, "It needs to be seasoned. It needs to have oily sealant rubbed into it regularly and you can't get water on it until it's seasoned properly. It could take weeks." I have been so busy actually "living" in my home that I haven't been able to put the stinky, choke the life out of you sealant on it. The neurosis begins.
Laminate flooring is firmly packed cardboard with a picture of wood on it covered in a thin layer of plastic. It looks and works great if the plastic layer is unharmed. To install laminate flooring you have to whack one end with a hammer really hard so the other end's tab will go into the neighboring boards slot. Sometimes when you hit firmly packed cardboard with a a thin layer of plastic on it the a thin layer of plastic chips a bit when it bangs into the neighboring boards. The neurosis grows.
I called the seller and asked what to do about these ocassional chips in the laminate. "Get a small brush or a Q-tip and put water sealer on the exposed cardboard. Whatever you do don't get it wet." The neurosis begins to multiply bunny fashion.
I love my new home but I am going absolutely crazy trying to keep everything in the kitchen dry.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
And so it begins…
I have a sink full of dirty dishes, baskets full of unwashed laundry, a thin layer of dust has collected on the boxes I have yet to unpack from our move and here I am writing to you. Between a full time job, a full time toddler, and a new home I am stressed to the limit. Occasionally I need something more theraputic than dishes to keep me sane…so now it begins.
A little bit about the players in my life drama.
The lead female, Kalyber (that would be me) is a single mother fast approaching 40 and the end of her rope. She has moved her son, E, from Chicago to the suburbs so he can toddle -- because that's what toddlers need to do. Before the move Kalyber and E spent 3 hours a day in the car, now it's about 40 minutes total.
E is all boy, at 21 months he runs, jumps, climbs, and falls just like a real boy. He is extremely talkative but has a shy streak like all small children.
E's father is not in his life. When Kalyber told him of her pregnancy he slugged her in the arm like a she was a drinking buddy, said "Good luck with that" and walked away. He does pay a bit of child support but not what he owes according to the state and not enough to ease day to day money worries.
The stress level hasn't changed since the move but the stressor sure have. The cost of living went up quite a bit but the income stayed the same. Kalyber's employer, Big P Co., decided it didn't need all those pesky employees after all and started letting people go. They also decided those left behind should not only "pick up the slack" but should also create new products. Kalyber's supervisor decided adding insults would make her a better worker because nothing motivates like fear and criticism.
Now for the cute kid stories…
We are Catholic but until we moved we rarely attended mass in a traditional church. In the city we attended the folk (read "old hippie") mass in our parish's school hall. For the uninitiated most Catholic churches have holy water available at the entrances for the faithful to bless themselves with "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit (Ghost if you're old school)". Now that we attend services in the 'blurbs we go to a traditional mass in a traditional church complete with a cry room and holy water at the entrance.
Two weeks ago I dipped my fingers in the holy water when I entered the church before mass, made the sign of the cross for myself and then for E. That evening as part of our toothbrushing ritual I cupped my hand and filled it with water to rinse out E's mouth. He dipped his fingers into the water, touched his forhead and said "Amen." This weekend when we went to mass with PawPaw, my father, E walked in and saw the container of holy water hanging near the door. He reached out for it so I picked him up so that he could touch it. Now I know where all the holy water goes. Toddlers SMACK their hands into it and it splashes all over the place.
A little bit about the players in my life drama.
The lead female, Kalyber (that would be me) is a single mother fast approaching 40 and the end of her rope. She has moved her son, E, from Chicago to the suburbs so he can toddle -- because that's what toddlers need to do. Before the move Kalyber and E spent 3 hours a day in the car, now it's about 40 minutes total.
E is all boy, at 21 months he runs, jumps, climbs, and falls just like a real boy. He is extremely talkative but has a shy streak like all small children.
E's father is not in his life. When Kalyber told him of her pregnancy he slugged her in the arm like a she was a drinking buddy, said "Good luck with that" and walked away. He does pay a bit of child support but not what he owes according to the state and not enough to ease day to day money worries.
The stress level hasn't changed since the move but the stressor sure have. The cost of living went up quite a bit but the income stayed the same. Kalyber's employer, Big P Co., decided it didn't need all those pesky employees after all and started letting people go. They also decided those left behind should not only "pick up the slack" but should also create new products. Kalyber's supervisor decided adding insults would make her a better worker because nothing motivates like fear and criticism.
Now for the cute kid stories…
We are Catholic but until we moved we rarely attended mass in a traditional church. In the city we attended the folk (read "old hippie") mass in our parish's school hall. For the uninitiated most Catholic churches have holy water available at the entrances for the faithful to bless themselves with "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit (Ghost if you're old school)". Now that we attend services in the 'blurbs we go to a traditional mass in a traditional church complete with a cry room and holy water at the entrance.
Two weeks ago I dipped my fingers in the holy water when I entered the church before mass, made the sign of the cross for myself and then for E. That evening as part of our toothbrushing ritual I cupped my hand and filled it with water to rinse out E's mouth. He dipped his fingers into the water, touched his forhead and said "Amen." This weekend when we went to mass with PawPaw, my father, E walked in and saw the container of holy water hanging near the door. He reached out for it so I picked him up so that he could touch it. Now I know where all the holy water goes. Toddlers SMACK their hands into it and it splashes all over the place.
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