Powered by Blogger.
Welcome to my Weblog!
Welcome to 1 Mother 2 Another! To read my most recent weblog entries, scroll down. To read entries from one category, click the links at right. To read my journey from the beginning, click here. To find out more about me, click here.
Top 5s
Short on time? Click here to go to my Top 5s Page - links to my top five recommendations in every category from Breastfeeding Sites to Urban Living Solutions.

Christmas is WHEN?

Wait, what day is today?

Seriously?

How is it that it felt like Thanksgiving was waaaaaaay too early, so we had aaaaaaaaall this time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and now it's Christma ALREADY? The kids just got out of school -aren't there three or four days of running around and getting errands done before Christmas?

I gotta go. Too much to do.

Peace On Earth, Goodwil To Your Sister

Maddie and Cora are in quite the feisty stage right now, and I’m dangerously close to opening up a can of whoop-ass on both of them sometimes.

I do not, do NOT understand why they are so mean to each other, yet so different with their friends. What is this natural antagonism, this inbred animosity?

I fret that I have instilled some sort of insecurity in each girl: that each is mean to her sister out of some fear of being less-well-loved by Mommy. I worry that I have made each girl feel not as good as her sister. Or even that I walk around trashing my own family members, setting a bad example.

Where Is God When Bad Things Happen

Just read this.

Thank you, Ann Voskamp, for this beautiful essay that gives us hope in these days.

Finding The Words

We’re all still reeling from the Connecticut tragedy, I know. And I have nothing new to say – and nothing that hasn’t been said better, by smarter people – on the subject. We live in a fallen world, and as one local official remarked on Friday, evil did indeed visit that town.

If you’re like me, you’re walking around on a knife edge, one sappy Christmas commercial away from sobbing uncontrollably. I know my children are tired of being squeezed relentlessly, snuggled unashamedly, clutched ridiculously tightly. I am unwilling to let them out of my sight, reluctant to stand even a few feet away in a room of strangers. School today will be a strange thing indeed.

Brian and I wrestled Friday evening with whether or not we should tell the girls what had happened: on the one hand, they have little to no exposure to the news or social media, and with Maddie’s tendency to worry about EVERYTHING we could see her getting incredibly wound up about this if we told her. On the other hand, if we kept this from them and they heard about it at school – we didn’t even want to think about the state they’d be in by pick-up time.

So we decided to tell them.

Learning What's Important

Cora is, for whatever reason, in love with the act of measuring things. She keeps a small tape measure – an automatic roll-up one like people use sewing – in her bedroom, and when we’ve finished with books and prayers for the night she gets out her measuring tape and happily measures, well, all the stuff in her room. She’s said it makes her feel like part of the Cyberchase gang, a math-based cartoon on PBS.

So whenever I get out my industrial metal tap measure – you know, the 25-footer – Cora’s eyes light up and she begs to use it. I pretty much always acquiesce, always reminding her to watch the automatic retraction – it’ll snap your eye out – and leave her to whatever story she’s got going on in her head.

I’ve been working on getting ready for Christmas, and Monday I had my tape measure out preparing boxes for shipping. I left it on a counter and didn’t think anything more about it. But when I went to use it Tuesday to measure out pine garland for our stairs, the tape measure seemed, well, sick.

I Don't Really Want To Know

Yesterday morning I went in to wake up Maddie for school. She’s usually the harder one to wake up, and she’ll often begin to stir in a very, um, crabby fashion, so I usually approach her bed gently, like nearing a wild animal.

But when I gently touched her and lovingly said, “Maddie, it’s time to wake up now!” she opened her eyes wide, gave a huge grin, and stretched happily. 

A Marathon, And What I Learned

A good friend of ours came into town this week to run the marathon; he’d originally been scheduled to run the New York marathon, which was canceled at the last minute due to Hurricane Sandy. He’d been one of our really good friends in New York, so we were thrilled to have any excuse to see him.

Now, I am not a runner. At ALL. I have several friends who run, and I truly don’t get it. But I hear that it’s lovely if you can withstand the pain and there’s nothing quite like a marathon. I’ve also heard that having a cheering squad is invaluable along the way; having friends to scream and jump and encourage you along the route makes you feel a bit less alone, a bit less like giving up.

So I hear.

Morning Person

Maddie is usually the most difficult member of the household to wake up. On school days Cora and I end up in Maddie’s room, snuggled in her bed for a few moments before we get up and get moving. Once Cora’s up she’s up and moving and she’ll be dressed and downstairs in two minutes; Maddie takes exponentially longer and will often come sliding into her seat with sixty seconds to gulp down oatmeal before we leave.

Sometimes, though, she wakes up for whatever reason, and occasionally she’s startled me when I’m downstairs thinking I’m the only one in the house awake; I’ll be doing my devotional or packing lunches and Maddie will pad silently up to me, fully clothed and smiling with pride. These are the mornings I live for.

Yesterday was such a morning.

And There Was Much Rejoicing Throughout The Land

Yes, Daddy is home.

And all is right with the world.

Although Cora said something disrespectful and snappy at bedtime last night after we'd brought Daddy home from the airport, and I corrected her, and she said with a sniff, "Well, I AM still sad that Daddy left, you know . . ."

Yeah, that won't fly any more, kid.

Long-Distance Relationships Never Work

My family has been incredibly fortunate in that Brian’s job requires almost zero travel for work; in addition, he works less than two miles from our house and so is often home for lunch, can have lunch with the girls at school, and can slip out of work to see a school play or something.

In short, the girls see their daddy a LOT. And are quite used to it.

So when Brian told the girls he had to make a three-day trip this week, they seemed unfazed at the announcement. But in retrospect, I think they simply didn’t understand. He traveled once (ONCE!) last year and we survived pretty well, so I figured we’d have a few “I miss Daddy!” at bedtime but would otherwise soldier on. Brian gave each girl a hug and kiss Monday morning and sent them off to school, not to be seen again until LATE tonight.

Mommy's Little Prayer Warrior

We started our Matthew 25/Good Deeds jars over the weekend: every day in December the girls draw a slip of paper from their own jar, and they do whatever that piece of paper instructs for the day. It’ll be something like “write a thank-you note to your teacher” or “tell a friend what you like about her” – simple stuff, but all things that encourage you to love on someone else. At the end of the day each girl will put her piece of paper in a box wrapped like a Christmas present with an opening at the top, and at the end of December we put the box under our tree as our gift to Jesus – all the ways we’ve loved him by loving others this month. The girls look forward to it every year and I confess I enjoy it too.

So on Sunday Cora drew “pray for a stranger” and her brow wrinkled up. “Mommy, how can I pray for someone if I don’t even know them? How do I know what to say?”

All She Wants For Chrithmuth . . .

Maddie’s had several loose teeth for many months now, but after losing one tooth last year the rest have stubbornly insisted on hanging in there ad infinitum. Three or four seem to be hanging by a thread, but have hung there, waving in the wind and taunting us, seemingly untouchable.

It’s gotten so that Maddie has trouble eating most foods; if we get her a taco I have to tear it up into tiny bits because biting into anything is too painful. Maddie occasionally takes a stab at trying to pull one, but for the most part suffers along in relative silence.

Until Wednesday night.

A Habit Does Not A Tradition Make

I am a creature of habit. I delight in things being the same; I find comfort in knowing what’s coming up next, in wrapping familiarity around myself in a new situation. I know this is not unique to me, but it is somewhat unique for someone who spent most of her pre-kids life living the life of a gypsy, moving from town to town and show to show.

And I loved moving on as much as I loved my traditions: moving on always afforded me a fresh start, both literally – if you move every six weeks, you never need to deep-clean your apartment – and figuratively – get in a fight with your neighbor? Wait a few weeks, then put them in your rear-view mirror and don’t look back!

But one thing that moving around a lot forced me to do was take a long hard look at my “traditions” – the supposed deal-breakers I needed for any major holiday or celebration. I remember well the first Easter I was away from my family: I was nineteen, and when I walked into the theatre the Friday before and a well-meaning Jewish friend called out cheerily, “Happy Good Friday!” I burst into tears.

These Things Bear Deliberation

Sunday night Cora came downstairs after bedtime complaining, “Mommy, I can’t get to sleep!”

I was expecting this a bit; after a week off school, Cora’s mornings weren’t starting quite so early any more, and Sunday morning she’d slept until I woke her up at 9 a.m. to go to church. So I wasn’t surprised that at 7:30 p.m., her school-night bedtime, she wasn’t quite sleepy.

“Head on back upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute to give you another snuggle,” I said, sending her on her way. Often the girls will need one last cuddle from me, and when they hear they’ll get it they relax so much in their beds they fall asleep. Cora scampered happily up the stairs and I delayed following her for fifteen minutes while I finished watching my recorded show.

When I finally made it to Cora’s room, she was so silent I felt sure she’d fallen asleep. I slid into her bed and snuggled smugly against her, breathing in her baby-ness that I can still faintly smell.

The Christmas Conundrum

Every year Christmas seems to get here sooner, and my lists seem to get longer: my to-do list, my shopping list, my list of gift recipients, are joined this year by my list of Things to Do for the School Winter Party list, to name just one. The holidays start sooner, but are on us before we know it.

And I am in quite a dilemma every year: one of my love languages is Gifts, so Christmas for me is license to give a ton of gifts to people without seeming over the top or excessive. On the other hand, I’m uncomfortable with what Christmas has become around here, and I keep wanting to dig down through the wrapping paper and tinsel and myriad of children’s shows about Christmas that spend an entire half-hour celebrating Christmas without once mentioning Jesus, and find the heart of Christmas again.

It's A Girl!

My newest niece Julia was born this weekend! Less than two days old right now, and she's already a heartbreaker.

Congratulations, my friends! I am so excited. Julia, you've got your whole life ahead of you, and it will be amazing.

Julia's parents, your life will never be the same. In a good way, I promise.

Staycation Rocks

It's officially Pajama Day. The day we live for at our house.

Don't take off your pjs, lie on blankets on the floor all day, eat cookie dough and watch movies in your pajams, play out side in your pajamas, play Twister in your pajamas, you get the idea.

Favorite time of our staycations. Always.

Just Clever Enough, I Think

Ok, I have nothing nearly as funny as this to show you, so you need to click on the link below. It’s to a buzzfeed article – “Kids Who Are Too Clever For Their Own Good”. I particularly love the one that rants against bagels trying to pass as donuts, the girl who writes a series of threatening letters to the tooth fairy, and the kid who wrote, in response to the question, “I think my mom should do less of this . . .” the simple “Drink wine” with an accompanying picture of Mommy with a glass of cabernet in her hand.

Kids say the darndest things, eh?

Seriously, check this out.

Not Exactly the Answer I Was Looking For, But . . .

Last week I volunteered in Maddie’s class to talk about art; it’s a monthly district-wide program, and I very much look forward to it each time. In both Cora’s class and Maddie’s class, we have the most interesting discussions. I love seeing how children look at art.

And we have the most, um, enlightening discussions.

Box Of Happiness: On Its Way

I love to bake. I confess it. When I was working in theatre, I’d bake furiously on Monday (my day off), then return to the green room Tuesday night with a tray of brownies/cupcakes/cookies/whatever, just to get them out of the house. Even now, when I don’t eat sweets (yes, it’s true. I mean, really, really true) I still love to bake.

So calling this the Most Wonderful Time of the Year would be an understatement for me. When the holidays arrive I’m in a tizzy; it’s as if I’ve been given complete license to go crazy and use fourteen sticks of butter in one session. Which I have done before.

Early November I get out my Hospitality spiral (don’t judge) and flip to a fresh, clean page. There I make a list of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the foods I’m going to make this holiday season, followed by a nifty little spread sheet of baking items – butter, chocolate, eggs, etc. – so I know how much I’ll need total. Then around Thanksgiving I get to baking: just a bit at a time, the recipes are done and pans of brownies or trays of cookies are in the freezer. Everything comes out in early December when I assemble long-distance Christmas boxes for friends and family, which breaks the floodgates and we begin consuming. Heartily.

So that’s my holiday baking ritual – but wait. I left out one essential step.

Ordering from the King Arthur Flour catalog.

A Magnanimous Big Sister

Cora has done a fantastic job adjusting to kindergarten, but the plain truth is that it’s just darn hard. Seven hours a day can wear an adult down, but throw a five-year-old in that situation and make her navigate new friendships and scary bigger kids at the same time, and it’s a miracle all kindergarteners aren’t in therapy.

So most days I can tell how Cora’s doing just by how she hangs out with me as we wait for second grade to be dismissed from school: she’ll often run and fling herself at me, and then happily let me sweep her up in my arms and snuggle, and if she clings extra hard, burrows extra deep, or begins burying her face in my hair then I know it’s been a darn hard day.

Yesterday was such a day, and we only avoided an entire afternoon of tears because of Maddie’s generous sacrifice.

I’ll explain.

Thinking Time

Every Saturday Maddie goes to horseback riding lessons, and the countryside commute before and after has become one of my favorite times of the week. As we drive out to the stable Maddie visibly relaxes, and the country air and quiet roads are almost a truth serum for the girl; a couple miles into the drive she starts talking and usually doesn’t stop until we’re there. The topic’s never the same – just whatever’s on her heart.

This past Saturday Maddie seemed to be thinking a lot about the future.

“Mom,” she began, “I’m not sure I know what I want to be when I grow up. Is that bad?”

This from a seven-year-old.

Well, Now I Don't Know What To Say

Yesterday morning the girls scootered to school and after parking their rides at the bike rack, walked to the school door hand in hand, smiling and chatting with each other about the upcoming day. A teacher passing by looked at them in disbelief and said, "Wow! They how sweet! They look like they actually like each other!"

I smiled smugly and walked my perfect children into school.

After school the girls were models of familial harmony, playing together amicably on the blacktop, scootering side by side all the way home, compromising on every big decision: Who gets to step into the street first to cross it? Which piece of candy from whose candy jar for a treat? And as I watched them, I began to form my next blog in my head, about what a sweet spot we're in right now and how well they get along.

And then we fell apart.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Domestify

Yes, I know "domestify" is not a real word. Just seemed right.

Yesterday I finally started to get my domestic feet back under me after a couple weeks of nursing kids and being sick myself. I spent the whole morning trying to wade through family paperwork, balancing checkbooks and cleaning up old documents to be filled out and such.

A Teachable Election Moment

Maddie came home from school a little upset yesterday. Apparently some of her classmates asked her who she wanted to win the election, and when she told them, “almost all” her friends proceeded to tell her how bad her choice was, and what a terrible person he is, and how bad (BAD!) she is to like him.

When the election first started cranking up in August, we had a long talk with Maddie – that she instigated - and let her know what was going on and how things would work. We made it very clear that everyone has a right to an opinion, and we will not make people feel bad if their opinions don’t line up with ours. We also said in no uncertain terms that anyone running for president deserves respect, and we have to trust that they are honestly doing what they think is best. Likewise, anyone who IS president deserves respect – respect for the office, if not for his ideas and policies.

The way Maddie’s classmates responded to her is not something they just made up: it was learned, either at home or out in the world. And while I appreciate this opportunity for some hard but necessary teaching, I am glad that this thing is winding up.

Time to start healing.

Tithing

A few weeks ago the girls were bored on a glorious sunny day. I could see their need to be outside, so I told them I’d give them each a dollar if they would wash the family mini-van.

My kids will do a lot for a dollar.

The girls were quite excited, and looking at the three cars in our garage or driveway, they sensed a bit more cash to be had. So they wrote up an ad and set it outside in the alley for passersby to see. When this produced no new clients, they went straight for a sure thing: grandma.

The girls offered to wash my mom’s car, and she kindly agreed and dug eight quarters out of her bag. After an afternoon of elbow grease and soapy buckets and bickering and fun, the girls each had two dollars in quarters to show for their efforts.

Which is when the real work began.

Saying "No" Didn't Seem Like An Option

With Maddie entering her third year in public school, our family has seen its fair share of school field trips. Accepting the fact that my child would be hurtling down the highway at around 70 miles an hour without a seatbelt was difficult when she was in kindergarten, but I have grown to understand that I cannot control everything and must just let. Some. Things. Go.

That’s not to say I haven’t been along on those field trips – I’ve followed behind the buses and spent the day hanging out with my child and her classmates at the zoo/arboretum/pumpkin patch many times. Over the course of the past two years I’ve been asked to be an official chaperone, but was never able to because Cora wasn’t in school and children not enrolled at the school couldn’t ride the bus. So Cora and I would follow along, have a great time at the zoo/arboretum/pumpkin patch, then happily get in our quiet car at the end of the day and putter contentedly home.

But now Cora’s in kindergarten.

Halloween Math

2 Kids + 2 sugar hangovers = one very loooooong morning.

Oy vey.

Seeing Fruit

Sometimes, you go through a hard emotional growth spurt with your kids. You have days when they seem to jump from disobedient act to intentional meanness to flagrant testing with nary a pause in between, and if you’re like me you’re driven to your knees several times a day, begging for patience and wisdom.

I’ve been through a lot of that with Maddie this fall. Even starting in the summer, her ego-centricity was breathtaking. Cutting in front of kids waiting patiently in line – not even noticing the other kids, really. Ripping Cora to shreds with a few careless words about the quality of work in a painting Cora just finished. Fighting vehemently with her sister for a toy she didn’t even really want – she just didn’t want her sister to have it.

I’ve been praying hard for Maddie, knowing that there are some things that are simply Not My Job, and changing my child’s heart is one of them. I’ve tried to be patient, trusting God that His seeds will take root and bloom in that sweet girl’s heart.

And recently, I’ve seen signs of new growth.

It's Good To Be Known

Friday night the family had a hurry of clean-up before bedtime. I’d been slacking on it all week since I’d been sick, but Friday night I told the girls everything had to be picked up. “But can’t we leave out a couple games, Mommy?” Maddie asked.

“No, kiddo, tomorrow we’re having people over for dinner and I don’t want to have to clean up the house on my birthday. Fair?” I asked, and Maddie reluctantly nodded.

That night I lay in bed with Cora saying prayers, and I was going through our usual blessings when Cora said, “Oh, I’ve got something to add!” I turned it over to her.

Getting There(ish)

Still sick, with my allergies/cold having settled into a lovely sinus infection. And on top of that, I can no longer hear (hello plugged ears) and am losing my voice.

But I have to believe I'm getting better each day! We celebrated my birthday this weekend and the girls and Brian gave me a lovely, low-key day to hang out, book shop, and enjoy a quiet family dinner. Getting there, I'm sure.

Bear with me.

Another Man Down

No, don't worry, Cora's not sick.

I am.

I don't seem to have what Maddie had - no fever. Just a plain ole cold, but enough to make me draggy and crabby.

Fortunately, both of my children go to school full time now, so I have crawled back into bed after the morning rush and stayed there until pick-up time for the past two days. Canceled a few clients, put my home maintenance on hold, and stayed in bed.

Thank you, Lord, for small graces, like full-time school.

Back To Normal

Maddie woke up fever-free on Friday and it never came back.

Praise the Lord!

We rented a cabin on a farm for the weekend and I was surely glad she was well enough for us to go; she was begging me to let her go
even if her fever came back. But that didn’t happen and she’s almost all better, with just a little congestion and cough left over.

No Change

Still sick here.

Yep.

I did a phone consult with the doc, who said there's a virus going around that does this - fever at night, not so much during the day - and will last 5-7 days.

FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS.

She said to not even come in until it's been seven days or, you know, she gets a lot worse.

Sigh.

Sick And Bored

Sunday night Maddie woke up at 3 a.m. with a fever; I loved on her, told her she couldn’t go to school the next day, and sent her back to sleep. She spent all Monday with no fever and just slight stuffiness, but at bedtime the fever showed back up. Sigh.

Home from school again on Tuesday, and I have to tell you, I’m pretty sure this thing is allergies. I’ve taken Cora to the doctor before for exactly the same symptoms – low to moderate fever, sore throat, slight stuffiness – and she guaranteed me it was allergies. Apparently in addition to causing EVERY OTHER SYMPTOM in the book, allergies can also run a low fever. Which, of course, is not contagious.

But without knowing for certain that it’s allergies, Maddie has to stay home until she’s fever-free. Which means I have one very bored kiddo around the house.

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

Yesterday I went to Cora’s school as a volunteer art lecturer. No, I’m not that good; it’s part of a district-wide program called Art To Go, where everything’s put together for you – pictures on foam board, questions pre-written, everything – and all you do is show up and look really really cultured. I’ve done this for Maddie’s classes in the past and was looking forward to sitting down and talking about art with Cora’s class for the first time.

Note to self – don’t ask kindergarteners such open-ended questions, and then LET THEM ANSWER THEM.

Junie B. Is Back

Maddie discovered Junie B. Jones in kindergarten and we spent a few painful months reading waaaaaaaay too much of that child’s escapades before Maddie finally grew out of the books and moved on to other, more well-written heroines. I was quite pleased to bid Junie B. adieu, and only saved the half-dozen books we’d bought out of sheer thriftiness.

I should have realized I wasn’t finished with the annoying child.

Too Tired

Hit the state fair yesterday, and we had a fantastic time but I'm totally wiped out.

And I can hear all those snickers out there - and you are so wrong. The Texas State Fair is ridiculously cool.

Ant Attack

When I was around five years old I was living in New Orleans, happily playing outside one day. Suddenly I noticed a ticklish feeling on my ankle and leg, and looked down and saw a swarm of red fire ants enrobing my lower limb. I stared in fascination, until the pain registered. And then I started screaming.

I remember that day vividly.

When we moved back to Texas four years ago, I celebrated a return to many of my favorite things in the South – excellent margaritas, even better Tex-Mex food, and winters without shoveling the sidewalk. What I did not look forward to, though, was the return to southern bugs, especially chiggers and fire ants.

It Never Gets Old

Monday was a day off school to celebrate Columbus Day and after the whirlwind of the weekend – a women’s retreat for me, birthday parties with school mates, and more – I felt like we deeply needed some unstructured down time together. Time to veg and hang out and play and bake and watch movies.

In other words, a Pajama Day.

Creature Of Habits

I love the changing of the seasons. It doesn’t even really matter which change we’re talking about – I love them all. Every winter I feel a yearning for hanging out on the grass on a warm spring day, watching trees bud and listening to birds sing. Then after a few months of that, I become restless and develop a yen for sunscreen and lazy pool time – those endless days that seem to stretch on forever, when your kids scream and play for hours and you laugh and chat desultorily with your girlfriends.

And then I have a hankering for the fall.

I See The Line-Waaaay Behind Me

I spent yesterday getting ready for the fall and its inevitable rounds of sickness: I made my homemade cough syrup, a few pots of lip balm for the girls, and some homeopathic cold medicine/immune system booster. I was racing and sweating, bags of dried herbs strewn about the kitchen and pots simmering on the stove. I now have several jelly jars safely in the fridge, with even a couple left over to give to friends if need be.

I think I've officially crossed over into Uber-Crunch Land.

I'm SO Not Ready To Touch That One

A few days ago, Maddie’s class had a competition to give themselves a name – you know, the All-Stars or Cougars or Champions or whatever. Her teacher, Mrs. Hall, stopped me at pick-up that afternoon and said, “Ask your daughter what name she suggested for my class.”

A little while later, I brought it up and said, “So what name did you come up with, Maddie?”

A Way With Words

Said yesterday morning while getting ready for school:

Cora: “Mommy, can I ride my scooter to school this morning?”

Me: “Of course!”

Cora: “Yippee!”

Me: “Why are you so excited about riding your scooter to school?”

Cora: “Because I really love the sound of my shoe softly tapping the pavement when I push.”

And she ran off.

Riding

This fall Maddie made the decision to quit ballet; her level was stepping up to classes twice a week and she simply wasn’t ready for the commitment. And while I understood it, the retired dancer in me was crushed; I know how much I loved dance my whole life and want Maddie to know that joy. But we also want Maddie to find what she loves, so we step back and give her some space to make her own choices.

Horseback riding is something Maddie’s enjoyed for a while; she’s been on a couple trail rides and always loved it. So as I cast about for something to let my introverted, nature-loving, animal lover to try, I instinctively thought horseback riding would be a good fit.

Believe me, we know it can get expensive and it’s not without risk, so Brian and I talked about it a lot. But I felt in my gut it’d be great for Maddie – almost therapy sometimes. So we bought a six-class session and gave it a whirl.

And it’s a match made in equine heaven.

Mean Girls

A few days ago I was walking home from school with Cora and asked, “Did you have a good day at school today?”

“Well,” Cora said matter-of-factly, “One kind of big thing happened. We were sitting on the rug for Circle Time and Sara started saying that I smelled like dog hair. She kept saying it over and over, getting really loud, and all the kids started laughing. And it really hurt my feelings. And so I went into the corner by myself to cry, and then the teacher told Sara to knock it off and then said I could come sit next to her. And mom,” she turned to me, bewildered, with a sad look on her face, “We don’t even have a dog! How can I smell like dog?”

Oh, my baby.

By George, She's Got It

Apparently Cora is reading now.

And I missed it.

Monday night Cora shut herself in her room for a long time, and when Brian finally went to check on her, Cora said, “Daddy, I’m reading now! Do you want to hear it?”

Being a good dad, Brian said, “Of course I would!” while thinking “reading” meant “I have the book memorized and will now recite it out loud to you”.

And that’s how it sounded at the beginning, but it soon became clear to Brian that Cora was really reading. She’d skip a word and he’d say, “No, what’s this?” And she’d stop, look at it, and figure it out one letter at a time. Yep, reading.

It's Like A Little Gang

Maddie’s always loved riding her scooter to school; she’s not quite a bicycle girl yet, but adores zooming along on her scooter, especially since she’s learned a few “tricks” like, well, braking. While Cora was in preschool she’d tag behind on her three-wheel faux-scooter to get Maddie to and from school, gamely pushing along but sensing something was different. And while she’s been patient about her rickety princess scooter, this weekend we finally upgraded Cora to the official Razor club.
Brian and Cora hit Target on Saturday and came home with a bright pink Razor, complete with wheels that light up if you go fast enough. Cora was ecstatic and scooted happily around the house on the wood floor all day. Maddie, a bit envious at how shiny and new Cora’s (otherwise identical) scooter was, handled her jealousy well and managed to be happy for Cora.

Sunday night Cora said, “Mommy, can we stay after school and scooter on the blacktop a bit tomorrow?” The school blacktop, I should explain, is sometimes a fair-weather stomping ground for Maddie’s gang; last spring we’d bring snacks and scooters and bikes and let the kids go crazy in the gorgeous weather for almost two hours while the grown-ups sat on blankets on the grass and chatted. Cora would play with her younger sibling friends or ride her bike a bit, but never had a “big-kid scooter” with which to join in.

Cora was clearly ready to roll.

Where Does The Line Get Drawn?

Earlier this month a mom was arrested in Texas for allegedly allowing her kids to play on scooters unsupervised outside; the charge was child endangerment. Her two kids, aged 6 and 9, were scootering on their cul-de-sac while she says she was watching from a lawn chair. After being taken to jail – her kids clinging to her legs and sobbing – she was held overnight before the charges were dropped.

Apparently an anonymous neighbor made the phone call.

Smells Like Team Spirit

Last Friday we took the girls to their first live football game: our local high school was having their homecoming and playing, of all the luck, mine and Brian’s old alma mater. So how could we pass that up?

Football, in Texas, is just SLIGHTLY less important than religion to most people, and to the rest of the people, it IS their religion. Football is not taken lightly here, and our high school just spent 63 MILLION dollars on a new stadium. Don’t get me started.

But school spirit was high that night, and the girls couldn’t have been more excited if they were going to a Dallas Cowboys’ game. They wore school colors, and brought spirit towels and pom poms. They were ready.

The Return of Backyard Bliss

As I pulled into my driveway Tuesday night from work, the sun was setting and shadows were lengthening all around me. Twilight was upon us, and it was nearly the girls’ bedtime. I idled in the garage a few moments, waiting for the girls to do their typical rush-out-the-door they always do when they hear me come home.

Nothing.

And then in the silence, I heard the faraway sound of girl’s laughter – coming from the back yard. And that’s when I realized –

It’s back yard weather once more.

Can The Bar Even Be Reached?

Monday night one of my advanced acting students approached me with tears in her eyes. A high school junior, she’s been one of my favorite students for years and I was immediately concerned.

“Miss Jen, I really hate to have to tell you this, but I think I’m going to have to drop your class. I just don’t have time for it right now.”

Stunned, I said, “You don’t have time for it? Does the class meet at a bad time?”

She shook her head “no”. “I can see this is going to be a demanding class and I don’t want to let you down with what you want me to accomplish as far as learning lines and keeping up and not disappointing my scene partner and I just don’t have time to learn the stuff and it’s the only time all week that I look forward to – this class is “me” time – but I don’t think I can do it!”

And it all came pouring out.

Bring On The Stinky Onions

The croup is making its rounds here, and between that and walking pneumonia I’ve given the following homeopathic help out so much that onion farmers are lining up to be my very own political action committee. So I thought I’d post it up here and share the love.

For the record, I didn’t make this up. I first read about this over a year ago on Keeper of the Home, and before that we probably had a few hundred thousand people do it back when people didn’t have instant access to a CVS and looked in their back yards for some relief.

And finally for the other record, I’m not a doctor, so don’t listen to me. You know what I mean. If you or your kid has a medical issue, seek professional help and for heaven’s sake don’t say “But this chick I read on the internet said to . . . .”

With the caveats out of the way, here goes.

It's The Little Things That Bring Joy

Is it wrong that, when my daughter mistakenly (and consistently) refers to Justin Bieber as “Justin Beaver”, I feel no small amount of glee?

Example:

Maddie: “Cora, can I play with the Eric (from Little Mermaid) doll now? I need him for my game.”

Cora: “No, Maddie, I’m still playing with him.”

Maddie crossly: “But that means the only guy left for me to play with is the stupid doll that looks like stupid Justin Beaver! What am I supposed to do with him?”

Yes, great satisfaction indeed.

The Rain Dancer

There’s a parable in the Bible about a rich man heading out of town, leaving his estate in the care of three servants. To one servant he gives a small amount of money, to another a medium stake, and to another a small fortune. When he returns, the two servants who’d been given at least a modicum of cash had taken their portions and exponentially increased them; but the servant with the least had buried his cash in the back yard, afraid of losing it. The rich guy, not surprisingly, was displeased and took the small amount away from the poor guy and gave it to the servant who’d been given a huge amount in the first place, as a reward for being such a good steward of his property.

When Maddie was born and I held her in my arms, I looked at the fortune God had just placed in my hands, and vowed to be a good steward with His property.

Stupid Television Show

Thanks a lot, season premiere of Parentood. As if my day weren't emotional enough yesterday, I am now officially weepy at the thought of Maddie going off to college. Yes, I've added worrying about my second grader's imminent departure from home to go on to college to my list-o-crazies.

Wait - she's just now starting to get real letter grades instead of smiley faces and stickers this year; it's not too late to sabotage her academic career!

History Is Different When It's Yours

Today is 9/11, and I don’t think I’ve made a single post on this day before. Eleven years ago, I was awakened in my New York apartment by the phone ringing off the hook with friends frantic to get hold of me. I turned the television on just in time to see the second plane crash into the building right up the street from my husband’s work.

Good Math

The number of years I've now been married: 17

The number of poolside glasses of champagne I consumed celebrating this fact during an overnight anniversary getaway: 2

The number of panicked calls I received from our first-time babysitter who also happens to be seven months pregnant with her first child during said overnight getaway: 0


You are so ready for this, Nikkie. You're going to rock motherhood.

Out-Of-Town Tryouts

Maddie and I were talking over her day yesterday – what she did, what she studied, and so forth – when she said, “Oh, Mommy, good news! Elise and I have already picked out what we’re going to do for the school talent show this year.”

Which is, I should tell you, in May.

“Oh, that is good news! But why are you working on it so early?” I (reasonably, I thought) asked. 

Fallout

Yesterday, school finally caught up with Cora.

Hard.

We sort of made it through the afternoon and dinner and Cora began to create an elaborate make-believe game – a sure sign in my girls that they’ve got some stuff to process. All was going fairly well until Cora blatantly took a bag of Maddie’s and then refused to even share it with Maddie. When I gently but firmly insisted, that was the. Last. Straw. And Cora fled to her room, sobbing uncontrollably.

On The Other Hand . . .

I do miss my girls terribly while they're at school.

On the other hand, I’ve gotten an awful lot done during the day while the girls are school. Dinners made, laundry done, cabinets organized, household running smoothly . . .

Hmmm.

Labor(less) Day Weekend

We had our first three-day weekend as a school family, and boy did we appreciate it.

Saturday was one of the most glorious Saturdays EVER. Brian got up with the girls and when I stumbled out of my room at nearly 9 a.m., he was lying on Cora’s bed doing the voices while the girls played Dollhouse. “Wah, wah,” my husband would say with his eyes closed, and the girls would rush to pick up the doll babies and take care of them. “How long have you been at this?” I asked. He peeled one eye open. “Hard to say,” he mumbled, and drifted back off.

I sent my man back to bed and found out the girls had been playing happily for over an hour, and had not yet had breakfast. And thus it went for much of our weekend.

Still Digging, Apparently

Last year, Maddie and her friends undertook that classic kids’ boredom game, Digging to China. Many of you will remember that Maddie’s posse began assiduously working on a hole to China on their school playground, calculating that they should be finished by sixth grade. Maddie even asked Brian to be there the last day of school in sixth grade – and bring scuba gear for getting through the oceans – so the family could go to China together. Fortunately, the gang called it quits a couple weeks into the project after one mother brought up concerns that their digging might cause shifts in the tectonic plates, triggering earthquakes in other countries. Ever ones to worry about causing other people harm, the girls regretfully called a halt to their diggings.

Until now.

Heart-Full

Cora has impeccable timing: last night I’d juuuuuuuuuust sat down on the couch and pressed “play” on my DVR’d Newsroom when Cora began calling out: “Mooooommy! Moooooooommy!”

I walked into the darkened room and said, “What’s up, bug?”

Cora shuffled around a bit in her bed. “I was just wondering if you might need to get some snuggle right now. Because, you know, if you need some snugs you can, you know, just take some whenever you want.”

And she patted the bed next to her.

What DO I Do All Day?

As I began to tell people this summer that I’d be a baby empty-nester – both kids in full-time school – come fall, I also began hearing the same question over and over again. Sometimes asked wistfully, sometimes bewilderingly, sometimes dripping with envy, but almost always the same question:

“So . . . what are you going to do all day then?”

And you know what’s ridiculous? I often feel the need to give a play-by-play justification of an answer to them. “Well, I’m going to spend hours cooking gourmet dinners, and change the sheets on the bed every day, and of course devote a significant amount of time to caring for the poor.”

New Beginnings

I may have hinted, here and there, that I am a wee bit sad about school starting in general, and my baby starting kindergarten specifically.

A wee bit.

So to everyone who called or emailed yesterday with their condolences –er, sympathy –er, kind words – I say a heart-felt thank you. Deeply.

To those who sent well-meaning words of encouragement along the lines of “this doesn’t have to be an identity crisis”, I thank you for your intention, but you missed my point.

On The Eve Of Kindergarten

Dear Cora:

In a few short hours you will be starting kindergarten. Something irreversible will have begun, and though I’m loathe to see it happen I’m so proud you’re doing this so well. You’re marching forward with joy and anticipation and I’m doing my best to hide my sorrow so it won’t taint your happiness.

For yes, I am sad. You are my heart, my little love, and I will miss your daily presence in my life. And yes, I know you went to preschool last year, but five hours, three days a week is simply not the same as seven hours, five days a week. Last year we had two days a week for pure Mommy and Cora fun, and those two days were the best parts of my week. If I could put myself in your backpack, I surely would: I have spent the past week furiously cooking make-ahead breakfasts and muffins for lunches, labeling water bottles and laminating favorite photos for you to hide in your backpack. I’ve done everything I can, short of drinking Alice’s shrinking potion and stashing myself in your pocket.

Bah, Humbug

I just went through Back To School night with my baby, who is so excited we had to walk outside and practice saying goodbye on the sidewalk, then watch her walk in and find her own way to the classroom.

Go away now. I need to drown my sorrow in donuts.

Yeah, Forget That Other Stuff I Said

I had a great day with the girls yesterday. A fantastic day. We got up early, played at a sandbox park, played in a sprinkler park, ate lunch outside, hung out with my niece, went ice skating and clothes shopping, ate a quick supper, played around the house – a fantastic day.

Which leads me to this: remember the other day when I said I was ready for school, finally able to move forward and to let go?

Yeah, that was what I call a false positive.

Next Stop, Everest

Last week I spent some time with each girl individually, doing whatever fun thing she wanted for a special day together. For Cora, I suggested rock climbing; she’s always been instinctively athletic and coordinated, and it was something I thought she’d enjoy. I mentioned the idea to Cora, who considered it, then vetoed the plan in favor of a trip to our city’s indoor water park.

The waterpark, I should mention, is in the same building as the city’s fitness center, which has, you guessed it, a rock wall. So after we had a fun few hours playing in the pool area, Cora and I sat on a bench and enjoyed a snack while we watched someone climbing. After a few minutes, Cora said thoughtfully, “Is it too late to do rock climbing too?”

Always wanting to encourage my kids to do new things, I said, “Nope!” and we cheerfully raced home to get her sneakers. Twenty minutes later Cora was being tightened into the world’s smallest harness and clipped to the on-staff belayer. Belaying guy? Not sure what the real title is there. At any rate, Cora was snugged up, and she began to climb.

Teacher Letters

Monday afternoon if you had driven slowly through my neighborhood, looking carefully at all the houses, you would have seen several hundred pairs of eyes peeking out at you from behind curtains. Should you turn onto a certain street, you’d hear several collected inhales from behind closed doors – followed by a sharp exhale when people saw it was “just you”.

Were all the mothers in my area hoping for the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes Prize Patrol van? No way, man – we were looking for something much more important.

Our school teacher’s letter.

Nuthin' to Say

I've had my A$$ kicked the past couple of days by a couple of wildly disobedient, out-of-control kids. Totally tag-teamed me into a puddle.

And my parents taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Hence my silence.

A Day As A Soccer Mom

I spent yesterday living as close to the life of a typical soccer mom as I have, and let me say, I was exhausted.

And I don’t think I’ll be enlisting any time soon.

Taking Back The Night

I just realized that as we push our girls’ rising times earlier and earlier to get ready for school, so also do we push forward our girls’ bedtimes, giving me a bigger chunk of “free” time at night.

Huh.

Maybe this early rising isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Getting There

I know I’ve waxed rhapsodic about our recent family vacation, but in the interest of full disclosure I feel honor-bound to tell you about the worst part of our trip – just to even things out.

That would be our first travel day.

Olympic Fever

Anyone else's kids completely entranced by the Olympics?

We recorded it the whole time we were on vacation, so now we're catching up and pretending we don't know the results. Every night we eat dinner in the living room - a HUGE first, I assure you - and watch another evening of DVR'd Olympics. The girls adore the gymnastics portion, of course, but are much more into other sports than I'd anticipated.

A Mile In Her Shoes

When my husband and I go on vacation someplace gorgeous, we love to be outdoors. We’ll explore national parks and pull over at scenic vistas and climb through tunnels and traipse up to see cliff dwellings – love it. And if we’re in Hawaii, our two favorite things to do are hanging out at the beach, and taking long hikes. Pre-kids, we’d do 8-11 mile hikes in a day, then collapse for a couple hours on the beach to clean up and cool down. Heavenly.

Now, we knew going back to Hawaii with kids would be different, and it was. We knew we wouldn’t be able to do our 4,000-feet-in-the-air, clinging-to-a-cliff’s-edge, 11-mile hike. We knew that. But we also wanted to expose the girls to hiking, and see if we could give them a taste of it so they’d love it as much as we do. So we picked out a few of our favorite hikes, ones with really spectacular, one-of-a-kind views very shortly into the hike, and prepared the girls. We grabbed walking sticks, water bottles, hats, and sunscreen, and headed out.

The verdict?

Happy Hikers, the Next Generation.

Asking The Right Questions

Last week I read a series of essays (while lying on the beach, heh heh) entitled Because I Said So, all written by mothers, on a variety of topics but all in some way tied to motherhood. A few of the essays resonated with me, particularly one about a single mom and her thirteen-year-old daughter: as the mom tried to find her way in the newly-single world, she had to take a good look at her daughter and figure out a whole new way to parent, and in the process she asked the question, What is it that makes a good mother?

“As far as she could ascertain, it seemed to boil down to a fairly simple set of issues. A lousy mother was someone who looked at her kid and said, ‘Here’s who I want you to be’ and ‘Here’s what I’m going to give you.’ A good mother was the one who looked at her kid, really looked at her, and asked, ‘Who are you?’ and ‘What do you need from me?’”

I have tried to find a flaw in this – perhaps because it’s sometimes more effort than I’m willing to put out – and I cannot. Who are you? What do need from me? I ask these questions, and my parenting style shifts. Subtly, but distinctly.

I'm Back. Dang It.

Well, I’ve had the vacation of a lifetime and unfortunately it had to end, so I’m back.

Not that I’m bitter.

Seriously, I think that’s the best vacation I’ve ever had – a long week in Hawaii with my family. And yes, I know, Hawaii is amazing, but beyond that, I had a really excellent time with my kids.

This Is Why I Exercise Alone

During the school year, I get up early to work out – not because I’m a morning person, but because if I don’t do it before the day gets going then I don’t do it at all. And if I don’t work out regularly, all my old dance injuries fall apart and I can barely hobble around. So I get up a few times a week at 5:30 a.m. to work out and shower before getting the girls up for school.

But it’s summer now and we’re not on a tight schedule, so I’ve been setting my alarm for 7:30 instead; this lets me sleep in and the girls are usually still asleep by the time I finish my workout video and head for the shower.

Usually.

Conquering An Old Foe

We went over the weekend to a swim party at the pool where Maddie took swim lessons when she was three and four years old. An indoor pool, the space has a nice layout, no truly deep spots, and plenty of pool toys.

And a water slide.

This water slide was Maddie’s arch-nemesis both years of lessons. As the grand finale of every swim class, the slide would loom large over the entire half hour until the class would head down towards it for the last five minutes. One by one, the children would line up, slide down, and splash into the pool.

Except for Maddie.

Still Sorry, But For All Different Reasons Now

A few weeks ago, I wrote about Cora’s recent discovery of the game “Sorry”. I won a couple times, she had a hard time dealing with it, and I was worried it was Candyland all over – all smiles and sunshine until Someone Other Than Cora won: then it was on to screams and throwing of pieces and storming off. Would Sorry be simply Candyland 2.0?

I won’t keep you hanging – the answer is no.

Cora is older and wiser, and after one night of tears and a very good sulk, she decided there’s a better way to deal with losing.

Learning how to win.

Back-To-School Shopping Tip: Bring Tequila

Maddie and a friend went back-to-school shopping yesterday for a couple new outfits for school. In general, Maddie’s good about letting me go shopping for her by myself; she trusts my judgment, gives me a few pointers color- and style-wise, and is happy to see me bring home the bags from a consignment store. But for the first day of school, she’s come to enjoy shopping with a friend – getting excited, squealing over colors and fashions, and gearing herself up for the fall. And yes, it might seem a tad early, but we’re going on vacation (in case I haven’t mentioned it yet today) soon and I don’t want this hanging over my head when we get back.

May I just say, I’m glad it’s over.

It's What We Call A Looong Courtship

A few days ago, Maddie said out of the blue, “Mom, could you set up a play date with Jonathon some time soon?”

Jonathon, in case your memory is as bad as mine, was a boy Maddie went to preschool with – and who she hasn’t seen since then. While in preschool the two were great friends, and swore that they would marry when they were grown-ups. He’s a great kid, really sweet, but again, haven’t seen him in two years. Which is, like, a decade to grown-ups.

Are We There Yet?

We’ve got a big family vacation coming up – we head out the end of next week – and I think I may have gotten the girls TOO excited about it.

Maddie’s read the guide book cover to cover, and loves to debate her favorite restaurants based on nearness to our rental house and the ratings in the book. Cora’s pored over pictures from my previous, child-free trips to the place, and will be able to find her way around any beach blindfolded. We bought both of them a snorkel set and have been using them at our neighborhood pool to make sure the girls are comfortable in fins in the ocean. Now we cannot get them to swim without their fins, which can be disconcerting to the six-year-old playing innocently next to them.

Play Date Etiquette: The Drop-Off

A few months ago Maddie had a play date at a friend’s house, someone whose mother I only casually knew from school. When she returned home a few hours later, her eyes were shining with happiness. “I had the best play date EVER!” she cried. “When can I go over again?”

I smiled. “I’ll talk to your friend’s mom and see what we can set up! What was so fun about this play date?”

Maddie sparkled. “We watched television the whole time, and her mom let us eat a LOT of candy!”

Oh.

There Should Be A Law Against It

Poor Cora was sick yesterday, waking up with vomiting and lying listlessly on the couch all morning. She seems to have recovered quite quickly, but it did force us to stay home and do nothing but lie on the pull-out couch and watch television and drink slushies.

Wait, maybe there shouldn't be a law against it.

Redemption

I had a bad day yesterday.

For a variety of reasons, none of which had anything to do with my kids, a really bad day. Let’s just leave it at that.

After dinner, I fled the house to run errands, leaving my husband to put the girls to bed while I got some space to mentally process what was going on. By the time I came home, the girls were in bed, but not asleep. Cora called me upstairs for a cuddle.

If You Play Hard, You Gotta Pay The Piper

We had an unexpected treat this weekend: friends invited us over to have lunch and swim, and we ended up staying for almost nine hours having a fantastic time. We ate lunch by the pool, swam for hours, changed into dry clothes, let the kids watch movies and play like puppies while dinner was readied, ate dinner, and then swam some more. By the time we went home the girls were exhausted – the good kind of exhausted.

Our friends have a diving board, and Maddie and Cora were all over it. They lined up and jumped in for HOURS. Maddie did “trick” after “trick”: jumping like a pencil, jumping in the straddle splits, and so on. Cora was enamored of the deep part of the pool, and would cling to the side, take a deep breath, then dive down in her snorkel mask, pushing herself down the wall, to touch the bottom of the pool twelve loooooong feet away before popping up again like a cork, smiling insanely.

The girls had a great time.

Mommy' s Little Almost-Teenager

Yesterday morning Cora had a friend over to play. While the young girls giggled happily together, Maddie a bit of the old man out, I took advantage of the pint-sized distraction and cleaned a couple of rooms. Maddie, bored, ambled into where I was and said, “Mom, can I talk to Elise on the phone?” Maddie’s friend has been out of town a couple weeks and my daughter was clearly missing her – as well as looking for something to do that didn’t involve helping five-year-olds dress up the cat.

“Sure, kiddo, let me go get the phone and call Elise’s mom on vacation for you, and she’ll hand you over to Elise if Elise is available.” I was headed towards the house phone when Maddie said, “And Mom? I really think I should get my own phone for Christmas this year.”

The Ultimate Consumeristic July 4th

We have celebrated July 4th several different ways as a family over the years: when we lived in New York, we’d throw a picnic blanket on the floor and watch the Macy’s fireworks show out our window on the horizon. A couple years ago we went to a minor league baseball game and had a fabulous time, with fireworks at the end and everything. Last year we were in Florida and watched distant fireworks from the beach.

This year we discussed our options. There are several places in our area to see quality fireworks; the problem with them all is that they’re all, um, outside.

And That's Why We Do It

Yesterday the girls and I played at the pool all morning with friends, bringing a picnic lunch to prolong the fun. After we got home I hustled the girls into dry clothes and ran a few errands with them before heading back home to get Maddie dressed for ballet. As I scurried both girls out the door, rushing to avoid being late, I handed Cora a bag I’d packed for her with fun stuff to do while Maddie took class: markers, coloring books, and the like.

“Here, can you please carry your bag? I put water and a snack in it,” I said briefly as I struggled into my shoes.

Guess We Don't Have To Worry About Future Frog Dissections Now

Yesterday Brian and I took the girls to a children’s science and technology museum for the afternoon. We had a great time learning about friction with bumper car models and spinning on a top to bring the idea of centripetal force home. Brian and Maddie had just finished building a very nice Lego house and we were all meandering our way back out the door when a staff member approached me and said, “Excuse me, our dissection of a cow’s eyeball is going to begin in two minutes if your daughters would like to come watch.”

I looked at Brian. He looked at me. I took anatomy and did more than my fair share of dissecting so I was happy to go splash around in to some vitreous humors, but what would the girls think?

"Sorry" Doesn't Begin To Cover It

Note to self:

In the future, when trying to defuse a tense situation with squabbling siblings by suggesting a rousing round of Family Board Game Night, kindly do not suggest “SORRY” as the game of choice.

Especially when you’re stupid enough to win.

Though by the time the game is over, you’ve only actually beaten/broken the heart of one daughter, since the first daughter left the game early on sobbing, “But it’s just not FAIR that I get bumped just because you slide! It’s an UNJUST rule! I can’t take this!”

Live and learn.

Maddie Makes A Sandwich

Recently Maddie’s been rather indifferent about food – and by “food” I mean anything but dessert. There is absolutely no ennui in her attitude towards sugar. But for regular meals, she’ll take all morning to decide what she wants for breakfast – half a bowl of cereal – then procrastinate for an hour over lunch, then eat a decent dinner (perhaps because she doesn’t get to choose that meal). This has left me saying, “What do you want for lunch, Maddie?” over and over again, only getting an answer from her right after I’ve sat down and put my feet up to eat my own lunch.

So a few days ago, I finally said, “Maddie, if you do not tell me what you want for lunch in the next five minutes, I will not make anything for you. If you are hungry, you will need to provide for yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I heard from behind a book.

Dishwasher Detergent: Don't Eat This At Home!

One of my all-time favorite sites, Crunchy Betty, posted an article recently on homemade dishwasher detergent. Her sister makes her own, and her one-year-old daughter got into it and ate a fistful of it. One quick call to poison control and they discovered that the fact that it was homemade detergent saved them a trip to the ER.

Making your own household cleaners isn't just cheap and eco-friendly - it's better for the kids, too! Check out her full post (plus a few recipes for homemade dish detergent) here.

And as an obligatory warning note: even homemade cleaners can be toxic. No one thinks your kid should drink a bottle of vinegar straight, for instance. But it's better than the harsh chemicals in store-made cleaners.

A Letter To Maddie's Camp Counselor

Dear Camp Counselor of Maddie’s Day Camp:

Last Friday as Maddie was finishing her breakfast on the last morning of her week-long school-sponsored day camp, she said, “Mom, can you set up a playdate with one of my counselors?” Turns out she had so much fun with her over the week that she wanted to keep the new friendship going. I explained that older girls wouldn’t come over for a play date, but as a babysitter, to which Maddie responded, “Then the next time you go out, will you call her to be my babysitter?”

“I’ll look into it,” I said, then added, “How will I know which camp counselor to ask? You have two of them!”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Maddie replied. “I want you to invite the one who likes kids, not the other one.”

Have you guessed, Camp Counselor? You are the “other one”.

Comedy Isn't For Everyone

At the pool last night Maddie met two older girls, fifth graders who were, of course, incredibly cool to Maddie. They were kind girls and allowed Maddie to attach herself to them for most of the evening. They played games with her and paid attention to her – to an extent. But after a while enough was enough and they paused on the other side of the pool to hang out and gossip, big-girl style.

Maddie, desperate to get their attention back, climbed out of the pool, stood at the edge, and said, “Hey, guys! GUYS!” The girls looked up politely.

“Watch me!” Maddie shouted. “I’m going to say ‘Mickey Mouse’ in slow motion!”

What?

I'm An Amazing Mother When My Children Aren't Around

Maddie and Cora have both been in camp this week, and I have to admit, it’s nice having a couple hours of space to try to get back on top of my domestic life. I adore having the girls out of school, and we’ve positively wallowed in our togetherness – copious hours by the pool, multiple rounds of Go Fish and dance-a-thons, and so on. But as we spend so much time hanging out, other things fall by the wayside: suddenly I’m doing laundry in fits and spurts, and may get three loads washed one day but take almost a week to get them folded and put away. Small things break down in the house and simply don’t get fixed.

And as for housecleaning –well, let’s just say don’t look at my toilets too closely.

Bedtime, Lockdown-Style

A couple people asked me after yesterday’s post to elaborate on our bedtime arrangement – how the girls get to color in their room, etc.

So here it is.

Gifts, Unwrapped

I’ve written a few times before about love languages, and how I can see the girls developing differently in that area. They’re becoming more clearly defined, and I love to see their individuality, even as I see them both happily moving forward and reaching out in each individual language.

Cora is a big Words and Affirmation girl, and is more comfortable saying, “I love you so much, Mommy,” out of the blue, than any other kid I’ve seen. Her comfort with verbal intimacy is humbling, and makes me work harder to meet that and respond to her in her own words.
And while Cora is striving mightily to read and write, she’s not QUITE there yet – she can laboriously sound out “To” and “From” and “Love You” but isn’t quite up to writing letters. So she does the next best thing.

Pound Puppies

I taught all morning yesterday while the girls stayed home with Gamma, and when I returned just in time for lunch I opened the door into my kitchen –

And found a puppy barking on my floor.

No, not a real puppy. Don’t panic.

A Good Day's Night

Our city offers a really great program – free outdoor concerts every Monday during June - and most years we find at least once band we’re interested in seeing. This past Monday, we hit the city park to listen to a Beatles’ tribute band.

And boy, did we have a good time.

A Letter To Madeleine

Dear Maddie:

Last week you asked me to take a picture of you on the day before your birthday, then take a picture on the morning of your birthday, print them both up, affix them to paper (your instructions were specific), and then turn it over to you. You want desperately to see if you notice a difference between your six-year-old picture and your seven-year-old picture.

Don’t bother looking, kiddo. I can see it well enough for both of us.

What has happened this past year? You’ve grown so much – and I’m not talking physically, though a friend of mine described you and a friend of yours, accurately, as “Great Dane puppies” just last week. And I’m not talking emotionally, though the difference between you at the end of kindergarten and you at the end of first grade is night and day.

No, what I’m talking about is how you’ve grown as a unique individual.

Another Birthday Looming

Every day this week Maddie presses me about her upcoming birthday in some fashion: asking if it’s too late to add to her wish list (yes), wanting to know if I’m getting stuff done for her party this weekend (of course), and wondering aloud whether or not she’ll look significantly different on the morning of her birthday.

‘Cause she’s aging and all.

Maybe It's Time For A Little Wuggles In The House

A theatre friend of mine has a daughter about Cora’s age, and the two play together a fair amount. The girls share a love of all things theatrical, and just like Cora, her friend Talia loves to dress up for elaborate “shows” and adores listening to Broadway cast recordings in the car.

A few weeks ago, little Talia started violin lessons, and the session started with the teacher enthusing over how quickly the girl would learn to play simple tunes.

The Ultimate Recycler

Yesterday morning I had to wake the girls up for an early swim lesson. As Cora blinked her eyes open, she rolled over, yawned, and said, “Mommy, everyone should carry around something so we can all catch our tears and save them.”

Cora is a hard sleeper and can have deep, vivid dreams, so I wasn’t sure where this was coming or even if she was fully awake, but I continued the conversation.

Yeah, Because That's Much More Likely

This weekend Maddie and I were driving through some farm country when I spied a curious sight out the window.

“Look, Maddie!” I cried, and pointed to a group of horses – one of whom was wearing what I can only describe as an equine version of a 1950’s rain over-coat. You know the ones: A translucent plastic that folds up into your purse, but when the rain starts Voila! You’ve got a see-through raincoat that’s tailored like a lovely day dress. The horse didn’t seem to mind and was munching away on some hay while sporting a semi-translucent plastic coat, tailored over his whole body. It snapped at the neck, wrapped around his withers, and came partway down his tail, as if made for his measurements.

Shhh.

Hear that?

That's the sound of me not packing any lunch boxes. Of the girls not crabbing sullenly while I prod and cajole them through a morning routine.

And that? That's the sound of me not saying through gritted teeth, "Hurry UP, honey, or you're going to be late! I need you to chew faster, baby, chew faster!"

And that? That's the sound of me not setting an alarm.

Sorry.

No More Pencils, No More Books

Yes, all my northern friends, read it and weep. Today is the last day of school.

Cora’s been out for two weeks and has quickly discovered the joy (sarcasm there) of running errands with Mommy. But it can’t really feel like summer until Sister’s in the same boat, so Cora is eagerly awaiting 2:55 this afternoon.

Change Takes Time

So last week our big project was the re-doing of Cora’s bedroom. Declaring yellow “not pretty any more”, she asked for a pink room, offering Maddie her bedspread, lovely vintage prints of wildflowers, and more as she pink-i-fied her room. Cora’s dream? To turn her room into a ballet haven, complete with a sign on the door saying “Do not come in unless you are a dancer!”

All went well to start, as you probably saw in my last blog. We spackled holes, moved out furniture, taped off trim and ceilings, and primed the whole room. Cora chose to sleep with Maddie that night, and we closed the door on her pristine white room, the only furniture in there her big bed covered in plastic in the center of the room. I tucked the girls into Maddie’s bed and said a cheerful good-night.

And then Cora started crying.

Dishwasher Detergent: Don't Eat This At Home!

One of my all-time favorite sites, Crunchy Betty, posted an article recently on homemade dishwasher detergent. Her sister makes her own, and her one-year-old daughter got into it and ate a fistful of it. One quick call to poison control and they discovered that the fact that it was homemade detergent saved them a trip to the ER.

Making your own household cleaners isn't just cheap and eco-friendly - it's better for the kids, too! Check out her full post (plus a few recipes for homemade dish detergent) here.

And as an obligatory warning note: even homemade cleaners can be toxic. No one thinks your kid should drink a bottle of vinegar straight, for instance. But it's better than the harsh chemicals in store-made cleaners.

We'll Keep Our Day Jobs

Both girls this year have asked to paint their rooms, and Brian and I agreed to give that concession to them as a birthday gift.

Sure, we could shell out five hundred bucks per room to hire someone to do all the hard work, but what would be the fun in that? I remember re-decorating my room a few times as I was growing up, and loved the DIY-ness of it every time. We were operating on a negative budget, but my mom never made me feel like we were doing it to save money: painting and moving furniture and sewing our own curtains was part of the fun of it all.

What Else Has She Figured Out?

Yesterday Cora and I drove past a neighborhood Montessori school housed in a fanciful building replete with towers and royal-like flags.

“Mommy,” Cora said, “That building looks like a castle, but it’s not a castle. It’s really a children’s school.”

Walking The Tightrope

A friend of mine told me that her daughter recently walked out of a bathroom and remarked casually, “Every time I look in the mirror I’m surprised that I’m pretty.”

Nonplussed, my friend pressed the issue and learned that her daughter considers herself unattractive – not because of anything that anyone has said, it’s simply how she sees herself.

Now, my friend and her husband are excellent parents and raise all their children thoughtfully and deliberately, and made the choice a long time ago that they would not dwell on appearances when speaking with their children, especially their daughters. So a compliment from them might sound something like this: “Hey, your outfit looks very pulled together today! I can see that you spent a long time working on it.”

It Must Be The End Of May

School must be drawing to a close: I’ve got something on the calendar every single day, and I have a pile of teacher appreciation gifts waiting to be wrapped and carded.

Between field day and class party day and awards ceremonies and such, I don’t imagine the kids are doing much more learning for the next two weeks. We seem to be flying from event to event to event, and that’s not even counting such things as Cora’s Birthday Weekend Extravaganza we just had (big hit, more on that later), or preschool graduation, or the upcoming recital for both girls.

A Letter To Cora

Dear Cora:
I usually start these yearly letters off by saying something like, “I can’t believe it’s time again – the year flew fast!” And while this year might have been speedy, I can DEFINITELY believe it’s time for a birthday letter.

You, my dear, are straining at the leash to turn five. I have seen such growth in you – and I’m not talking physical, though if you don’t slow down you’ll be swimming nekked by July because you’ll outgrow all the swimsuits I JUST BOUGHT YOU – that I can’t help but be aware of how much you’re growing up. Any traces of babyhood have been firmly erased, and you are drawing in your new self with bold strokes, filling up the pages and eschewing any need for an eraser.

The Sibling Time Warp

Maddie and Cora are almost exactly two years apart. Maddie’s development often seems to catch me by surprise – hey, look at that, she’s rolling over! I can’t believe she recognizes her alphabet! Wow, is she putting her face in the water and blowing bubbles already? That sort of thing. Cora is just the opposite: I’m inclined to think such unfair thoughts as – hey, why isn’t she brushing her teeth as well as Maddie does? When is her attention span going to get better?

It’s not that I’m constantly comparing Cora to Maddie, in a sort of “Well, Maddie rolled over at four months and Cora didn’t do it until five months. Slacker.” way. But with your first child, whatever stage you are in feels like it will go on forever: you will ALWAYS be breastfeeding/pureeing solid foods/changing diapers/potty training/sleep training/whatever. And then suddenly you’re in a different stage.

Busy Week

We've officially hit insanity time in our neighborhood, as school winds down and all the obligatory parties and celebrations come with it.

This week alone, we've got Cora's end-of-year party (preschool ends three weeks earlier than public school) today, which unfortunately conflicts with Maddie's class kickball tournament, so I'm hitting Cora's party while Mom cheers Maddie on. As well this morning Cora is celebrating her upcoming birthday in her school - since it's after school is out - so this morning will find me bringing a dozen and a half mini-cupcakes to her class and reading one of her favorite books aloud while the four-year-olds get sugared up for the day.

Mothers' Day Evolution

Sunday was, of course, Mothers’ Day, and I had a lovely time with my girls, my mother, and my mother-in-law. We ate out both lunch and dinner – decadent, I know – and I took a good long nap in the middle of the day – equally decadent.

When Brian asked me last week what I wanted to do for Mothers’ Day, it reminded me of every day over the past several years he’s asked me that question. And how my answer has evolved over time.
The first couple of times Brian asked me what I wanted to do, I responded, “I do NOT want to change a diaper. All. Day. Long.” And he kindly took over the entirety of that chore. All. Day. Long.

She's Not So Far From Wrong

The other day Cora and I were in a public restroom – Cora sitting on the potty, me staring politely at the back wall. This is how we do it. A moment of silence, and then Cora said amiably, “You know, Mommy, Chiwallas are baby dogs.”

A Chiwalla, in case you wondered, is a Chihuahua. Sure, I could correct her, but who wants to? It’s so darn cute every time she says it.

“Some Chihuahuas are baby dogs, you’re right, honey. But some are grown-up dogs.”

“No, Mommy, a baby dog is called a Chiwalla.”

Teacher Gifts, Part 3

I’ve spent a couple days this week talking about teacher gifts so feel free to catch up before you start reading today. But if you’re already caught up, let’s dive in – to my own ideas for what to give teachers as a “thank you” for putting up with your kid –and, let’s face it, you – for a year.

First off, think about who you want to remember with a little something. For me, it’s the people I see every day, whose paths I regularly cross as my daughters go about their school lives. So if you’ve never had a one-on-one meeting with your school principal and can only vaguely remember what she looks like, then don’t worry about a personal gift; perhaps something small for the whole office staff to share would be great.

Teacher Gifts, Part 2

Monday I ranted (a teensy bit) about end-of-year teacher gifts, and how they’re often stressful – and unnecessarily so.

Today I’m here to make some suggestions.

I spoke with a few friends, all of whom are teachers in the public school system, to get their input on this thing. Here’s what they had to say:

Teachers Gifts, Kinda

I know today's supposed to be my follow-up with suggestions and input on great teachers' gifts, but, well . . .

Had to take my printer apart and fix it.

Spring concert last night for the four-year-old. Late bedtime and too many cookies.

So I'm tired, sorry.

But it'll be here tomorrow, I promise.

End-Of-Year Teacher Appreciation Gifts

It’s that time of year again – when the weather warms up and the days grow longer and everyone is thinking of one thing:

Time to get cracking on the teacher gifts.

Of course, the time to get cracking was a few weeks ago – now we’re in crunch mode. But I’ve been working on them for a couple weeks here, and have a few things to say.

And some suggestions for gifts.


Going It Alone

I’ve talked many times about how parenting is continuously building fences around our children, only to knock them down and re-build them a few feet further out, over and over and over again.

I feel like I’ve done a lot of re-positioning lately.

Maddie’s becoming aware of her independence in new ways, and is tentatively testing it out in different situations. She’ll often shyly ask if she can do something herself – and then move forward hesitantly, but without looking back. And when she’s finished, she glows with triumph -and skips happily back to nestle in my arms.

Demonstrating A Remarkably Lucid Understanding Of Our Government

Overheard yesterday:


Maddie: “It’s too cold to open our neighborhood pool in
May. I’m going to write to Congress and tell them to make it
a law that pools can’t open until June.” (Way to avail
yourself of our governmental system, baby. Due process, or
something, at its finest.)


The Talent Show

Maddie’s school does an annual
talent show – something I distinctly do NOT remember from my
own childhood. Would I have jumped at the chance to get up and do
my thing, or would I have hesitated in fear? I honestly have no
idea.


But Maddie got up and did her thing.


Guest Blog: The Fake Me Sent The Real Me To The Police Station

I know I mentioned my friend Abby's new blog, href="http://www.steadyonmama.com">Steady On, Mama. Today she
writes in about life in the big city - and identity theft. Thanks,
Abby! - Jen




style="letter-spacing: normal; white-space: normal; text-transform: none; font-variant: normal; text-indent: 0px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: normal">
I almost didn't open the envelope.  It looked like junk
mail.  Still, my father in law had taken the time to forward
it to me.  It was strange that someone had me listed at his
address in Atlanta.  I opened it.  And freaked out.

style="letter-spacing: normal; white-space: normal; text-transform: none; font-variant: normal; text-indent: 0px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: normal">
It was a letter from a creditor for $500+ in unpaid Poland Springs
bills.  The only problem:  I don't have an account at
Poland Springs.  Or so I thought.  My immediate
thought:  there is a fraudulent Abigail Liu out there. 
She drinks a lot of water.

style="letter-spacing: normal; white-space: normal; text-transform: none; font-variant: normal; text-indent: 0px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: normal">
My next thought:  how deep does this go?  Every dramatic
identity theft story that I'd ever read in the greasy, dog-eared
pages of doctor's office copies ofclass="Apple-converted-space"> Good
Housekeeping
class="Apple-converted-space"> rose to the
surface.  Miles and miles of unwinding.  Paperwork. 
Lawyers. Creditors banging down the door.  Frozen
accounts.

style="letter-spacing: normal; white-space: normal; text-transform: none; font-variant: normal; text-indent: 0px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: normal">
Lord, have mercy.

Back To Normal

My month-long marathon of rehearsals and
shows is finally over – show, closed; makeup case, put away.


Now to deal with the clean-up.


She Will Make A GREAT Parent

This is not my story, but it’s too
delicious not to tell. Pun intended.


Maddie’s friend Elise has historically disliked chocolate, to
the point that Elise’s friends will often choose a vanilla
cake for a birthday party so “Elise will want some
too.” This is not anything the girl has done to force her way
– it’s simply a measure of how much her friends like
her.


So when Elise asked for a chocolate bunny for Easter for the first
time, to call it huge would be an understatement. Both parents
checked in – yes, she really meant it. Rite of passage, or a
genuine taste change? Who could tell, and who cared. The bunny was
coming, and the subject of much discussion. Elise made it clear
that the bunny was hers – and ONLY hers – and she would
savor it slowly in her own time whilst it remained off-limits to
the rest of the household.


Steady On, Mama

I’ve posted before about other mommy
blogs I really admire; I do enjoy reading other sites on a somewhat
regular basis, mostly just to remind myself that I’m not in
this crazy thing alone. Even words from a stranger can be
comforting when they echo my feelings.


But one site – target="_blank">Steady On, Mama – is not written by a
stranger. It’s written by my best friend Abby,
waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in New York. And I’m so thrilled
she’s started writing! She’s got an incredible talent
for saying what I’m thinking – only better. And now I
can finally keep up with her inner thoughts – and the issues
she wrestles with – along with all the other mommies out
there.


So check it out- I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Not A Game To Be Played Around Strangers

For the first few years of the
girls’ lives, our only car was a 1995 Mazda with a tape deck
and hand-cranked windows. When we added a 2000 mini-van in 2009,
there was still a tape deck, and though the front windows were
powered, the back windows, alas, did not open at all.


So when we got our new car last August, the girls marveled at many
“new” technologies, like touch-screen navigation and
iPod-ready portals, but nothing excited them as much as the power
windows. They are entranced by the power at their fingertips, and
will endlessly roll the windows up and down; Cora is practically
dog-like in her love of hanging an arm or even foot out the window
whilst traveling.


It's Just One Night, Kid

Brian had to go out of town on a business
trip this week – at the last minute he headed to the
northwest early Tuesday morning, coming back last night. And
because I’ve been working so much recently, the girls have
gotten a tad used to Daddy being around.


So he was, ahem, missed.


Tax Day: It's What's For Dinner

Today is officially tax day, and to help
people celebrate (read: spend their anticipated returns) many
restaurants are offering discounts today.


I fully intend to take advantage of this.


You can Google "tax day restaurant discounts" to see what's around
you; href="http://eater.com/archives/2012/04/13/the-epic-national-tax-day-2012-dealfeed.php"
target="_blank">here
is a partial list of nation-wide
stores. The two I took note of were the Maggie Moo's/Marble Slab
free scoop and the 15% off at P.F. Chang's.


I feel Chinese takeout coming on.

Happiness Is An Hour At Starbucks

I’ve written before about the
afternoons Maddie and I have spent during one-on-one times at
Starbucks; we were looking for a place to rest and have a drink in
between events one day, and she quickly fell in love with the huge
leather chairs and almost-as-large cookies. She and Cora have been
having a rough time with my work schedule the past couple of weeks,
and so once a week I’ve carved out an afternoon to hit the
coffeehouse.


And let me tell you, it is absolute greatness.


Are Home Candles A Health Hazard?

As someone always looking to improve the
health of my general household, I’ve written a couple times
about candles. Several people have asked me why
“traditional” candles may not be the best option
– artificial fragrances, lead wicks, and paraffin, a
petroleum by-product, top the list of reasons – but
I’ve never really blogged about it in-depth.


I can tell you that my household uses beeswax or soy candles only,
and that we have no artificial air fresheners or even artificial
scents in the candles. If you’d like to know more about this,
read target="_blank">Keeper of the Home’s recent post
on href="http://www.keeperofthehome.org/2012/04/toxins-in-candles-sad-but-true.html"
target="_blank">using candles in the home
; she links to
several more in-depth articles but in general does a great job
covering the topic.


Because they’re beautiful, but if they’re giving you
asthma, who needs them? Just read a bit and you decide.

They Grow Up So Fast

Yesterday morning as Maddie and I walked
up to the school grounds, she spied a friend of hers coming up at
the same time. “Nathan!” she shouted joyfully and ran
towards him, throwing her arms around him in a fervent embrace.


To be fair, this is how all of Maddie’s girlfriends greet
each other: even though they’ve just seen each friend the day
before, they’ll scream a name, race towards the girl, and hug
her tightly for quite some time. If there’s still a distance
to walk after the meet-up, the two girls will hold hands for the
rest of the way.


You could see that Nathan was not quite down with the public
display of affection, and he smiled and said, “Ok, ok,
OK!” as she hugged him. But he did not break out of it. And
then as they walked the rest of the way together, Maddie firmly
holding his hand through the crosswalk, you could see
Nathan’s neck turn bright red, twin spots of flame lighting
up on his cheeks.


When they got across the street Nathan, still holding on, said
haltingly, “Maddie, why so huggy today?”


Which was as close as he came to complaining.


“No reason!” Maddie responded blissfully. And then
walked him the rest of the way to the door.

Part-Time Mother

I started rehearsals for a show last week.
I don’t really do shows any more; I truly love being home
with the girls and between rehearsals and performances shows are a
big time commitment – not to mention a sacrifice to everyone
else around you who is picking up the slack for you. But a show
came up with a role I’ve always wanted to do and a relatively
low commitment time-wise, and Brian encouraged me to go for it.


I only rehearse for four hours a day – but those hours happen
to be from 7-11 p.m. So while I’m home for the girls most of
the time during the day, I leave right before bedtime, which is a
crucial snuggle/wind down time for both girls. And then
there’s the fact that I get home at midnight or later, and
get up at 5:30 to fix breakfasts, pack lunches, and start the next
day.


So I am tired.


Painless Generosity

Yesterday the girls tore through their
Easter baskets, cracking open eggs in a mad dash to discover all
the candy they’d gotten. What they found was that the Easter
bunny had shopped exclusively at Whole Foods – and so the
eggs were, um, a tad less exciting.


But listen, I have issue with turning Easter into Christmas Two
– baskets replacing stockings so that they’re bulging
with gifts rather than just a few chocolates, the Easter bunny
being the guy who gets the credit for all the good deeds, and so
on. On top of that, I’m supposed to serve my
food-dye-sensitive kid a basket of food dye (a.k.a. “the
stuff that makes her ADD”) and high-fructose-corn-syrup? I
don’t think so.


Pre-Egg-Hunt Jitters

Cora’s got her pre-kindergarten
Easter party today, and I have to confess I’m nervous on a
few different levels.


One, today’s party signals the opening of the refined sugar
floodgates for the extended Easter holiday. Cora’s been
bringing home jelly beans all week, and tomorrow’s just going
to ratchet up the junk food quotient exponentially. And how do you
tell your child you’re going to throw away 70% of whatever
she gets?


In secret, of course.


She Likes To Sniff Things

Overheard recently:


Maddie walked out of a restaurant, saw a stray beer bottle cap
lying on the ground, and bent to pick it up.


At which point Cora came over and said:


“Trust me, Maddie, those do NOT smell good!”


Which disturbingly implies first-hand experience with the
subject.

Living Without Healthcare

Brian started a new job recently –
our choice, thankfully, and not a switch made due to a layoff
– and as is standard these days, we will spend the first
ninety days of his new employment without any work-provided health
insurance.


We are not, of course, living completely without health care
– we purchased 90-day private insurance to cover anything
major that will come up. But it is, essentially, major medical
coverage, which means no “hey I think I have strep
let’s pay a little office co-pay and find out” kind of
thing. Office visits, prescription refills, all these things are
off the table until a huge deductible is met – which
hopefully it won’t be.


So we are, in essence, living without day-to-day healthcare.


We prepared as best we could: we got 90-day refills on our daily
prescriptions, made sure all our well-visits were up-to-date, that
sort of thing. So we’ve done what we can, and are generally a
healthy family and hoping we cruise through those first 90 days
relatively uneventfully.


But it does change the way we look at things.


When Did I Become THAT Parent?

Yesterday Maddie had a neighborhood friend
over to play in the back yard for a bit after school. Though she
lives on our street, the little girl is a grade ahead of Maddie and
plays a ton of sports after school, so we haven’t seen her
much this year.


When she walked through our back gate yesterday, I saw a shy and
gawky second grader.


“Hey, Anna, how are you?” I smiled at her from my pile
of weeds.


“Good,” she said, looking around.


Silence.


Girl Meets Roller Blades

Maddie has been asking for a while to take
ice-skating lessons; she loves going for a free-skate with the
family, and did a mini-camp last year for a few days, learning how
to fall safely, basically. We’ve had less success with
roller-skating, though, so when she asked me if she could have a
pair of roller skates for cruising around the neighborhood I had to
think about it.


First, of course, we had to find a way to get the skates. Maddie
and I talked about different things we could work on in her life to
earn a pair of skates, and we settled on her relationship with her
sister. Since February, Maddie’s been working hard on showing
honor to her sister, putting her first, deferring to her when
there’s a choice to be made. I’m not saying it’s
perfect but she’s shown a lot of improvement just in how well
she listens to her little sister.


Isn't There Some Sort Of Sampler Platter?

Maddie’s been enamoured of baseball
ever since she saw her cousin play a high school game about a month
ago; I found a bat, glove, and ball set a couple weeks later at a
consignment sale and she’s been “playing” almost
every day since then.


And when I say “playing”, I mean she is the ONLY
batter, and the grown-up pitches while Cora video-tapes and cheers
Maddie on.


So when Maddie begs to play baseball in the fall, I have to pause
and say, “Do you REALLY want to play the game? Or just bat
for a couple hours?” To which she will earnestly reply,
“Just bat! Can you do that?”


Put A Sock On It

About six weeks ago I placed a big order with Mountain Rose Herbs, gathering a fair amount of dried herbs for various lotions and salves I was making for the family. One of the herbs I needed was dried lavender buds, so I ordered a bag. And since the medium-sized bag is always, like, a quarter more than the small-sized bag, I upsized it. A week later, I realized just how big a medium bag of lavender buds really is.

I’ve been casting around trying to find some uses for the dried lavender buds before they completely lose their smell and potency; I know I have around six months, but still, I want to make them count and get my quarter’s worth. I’m that cheap.

At the same time, I was wrestling with Cora having trouble getting to sleep at night – she kept complaining of growing pains. And as I searched for ways to help her out that didn’t automatically involve a shot glass of ibuprofen, someone mentioned to me the idea of hot packs for the little legs.

And I figured out how to kill two birds with one stone’s weight of lavender buds. I made sock buddies.


Oh, Now I Understand

Last night Cora held up her smallest
stuffed panda, about two inches tall and said:


“Mom, you know my tiny tiny panda, ‘Tiny Tiny
Panda’? Well, do you know why Tiny Tiny Panda’s name is
‘Tiny Tiny Panda’? It’s because he’s VERY
tiny and is a panda. And VERY is worth two
‘tinys’.”


Thanks for clearing that up.

Girl Campers

Every “staycation” Brian and I
try to come up with new things for the girls to try: a day-trip
somewhere new, seeing a sport live for the first time, that sort of
thing. And the girls have been asking about camping out for a while
now – one of Maddie’s best friends is a regular camper,
heading out on weekends in either a pull-along camper or a tent. So
we figured that this spring break was an ideal time for us to try
camping out – in the back yard.


And when I say “us”, I mean everyone but me.


Listen, I love me some nature. I could sit outside and watch the
crickets hop all day. I’ll go on nature walks for hours,
looking up animals in my bird books or counting the petals on a
flower to figure out its classification.


But at the end of the day, it’s time to go inside and lie
down on a nice, comfy mattress.


Rainy Day? Get Your Goo On

Yesterday we had some much-needed rain in
our area; thunderstorms all night and morning, giving the plants
the water they need but keeping me and Cora inside on one of our
precious few Cora and Mommy days.


But when the day is rainy outside, that just means it’s the
perfect day for stirring something up inside.


We did plenty of baking yesterday: we made a double batch of the
girls’ favorite (and very healthy) breakfast cookies; a batch
of raspberry granola bars; and a batch of dark chocolate, low-sugar
granola bars (those are mine, so keep your mitts off). We also
tested an extremely cool href="http://www.keeperofthehome.org/2012/03/the-battle-for-a-no-fail-nourishing-popover.html"
target="_blank">wheat-free popover recipe
that we both
loved.


But by far the best recipe of the day was the recipe for Goo.