Last night, we went out for fish. It was Friday in Wisconsin, after all. Of course, Greg was the only one who actually ate fish. Allie had a hot dog, which she and her appliance struggled with. Julia had mini corn dogs, which she ate and then asked for more. I had chicken.
At the end of the meal, the waitress brought the ubiquitous little leather folder with our check. Julia reached out before Greg could grab it and snagged it. Greg asked her if she wanted to pay the bill and she said, "Yeah! Gimme a dollar!"
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Switched, but didn't want to
Damn. I was forced to switch my Blogger account to Google when I signed in today.
For months, I've been ignoring their requests to try the Beta version of Blogger. Then I've ignored the statements about how they're out of Beta and don't I want to change to the new, exciting crap they have available.
No. I do not want to change. I like things the old way, and if any of my stuff is messed up, I'm going to be pissed.
Now I'm all perturbed, and I can't think of something else to write when I'm perturbed. Aren't most people resistant to change? Yes, they are. And I don' t like the new font they have me typing in right now.
Oh, they promised nothing was going to change. They're full of it.
For months, I've been ignoring their requests to try the Beta version of Blogger. Then I've ignored the statements about how they're out of Beta and don't I want to change to the new, exciting crap they have available.
No. I do not want to change. I like things the old way, and if any of my stuff is messed up, I'm going to be pissed.
Now I'm all perturbed, and I can't think of something else to write when I'm perturbed. Aren't most people resistant to change? Yes, they are. And I don' t like the new font they have me typing in right now.
Oh, they promised nothing was going to change. They're full of it.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Mildly sweet stories
This morning, Greg was getting ready to leave for work. He'd already kissed Allie and Julia goodbye and was heading towards me, as I was making Allie's lunch, to kiss me goodbye.
Allie went running after him and said, Wait! She grabbed a napkin off the table, wrote quickly with a marker, and held it out to her father. The napkin said, Press, and she'd drawn a giant button in the middle. When Greg pretended to press the button, she threw down the napkin and attacked him with a hug.
*******
Julia and Allie got free mini piggy banks last night when they went to the grocery store with Greg. There's a new bank inside the store that's trying to drum up business. Today, Julia wanted to bring her piggy bank with her to daycare, to show it to her friends. Of course, she wanted to have some additional coins to put in her bank.
I grabbed my wallet and all I had for change was a dime. She took it and put it in her bank, then she asked for something big. I went over to our little change dish and grabbed a quarter for her. She said, Is that big? I told her quarters are as big as coins get (most of the time). She put it in the slot and said, Is dere more big money in dere?
Sure, honey. It's the magical change dish! Quarters without end. Not.
Allie went running after him and said, Wait! She grabbed a napkin off the table, wrote quickly with a marker, and held it out to her father. The napkin said, Press, and she'd drawn a giant button in the middle. When Greg pretended to press the button, she threw down the napkin and attacked him with a hug.
*******
Julia and Allie got free mini piggy banks last night when they went to the grocery store with Greg. There's a new bank inside the store that's trying to drum up business. Today, Julia wanted to bring her piggy bank with her to daycare, to show it to her friends. Of course, she wanted to have some additional coins to put in her bank.
I grabbed my wallet and all I had for change was a dime. She took it and put it in her bank, then she asked for something big. I went over to our little change dish and grabbed a quarter for her. She said, Is that big? I told her quarters are as big as coins get (most of the time). She put it in the slot and said, Is dere more big money in dere?
Sure, honey. It's the magical change dish! Quarters without end. Not.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Political overtones
Greg is downstairs watching the State of the Union address and procrastinating about some work he should be doing. I am upstairs, refusing to listen to Bush talk, just on principle. The guy's an idiot and he has stupid ideas, so why would I listen to his propaganda on things he's not going to succeed at doing. The only good thing about all of these politicians announcing recently that they're running for president for '08 (because the election process is way too dragged out) is that it starts the countdown in my mind for when Bush will be gone.
Tomorrow morning, I'll read a little about the speech in the newspaper, preferably the section where they analyze the claims Bush makes and present the facts on each issue. He's usually stretching the truth or pontificating with oodles of wishful thinking.
Greg and I have always taken the girls with us when we exercise our civil rights to vote, since Allie was an infant. Gosh, guess who I'll be voting for in November, 2008. Anyone but George W. Bush!
Tomorrow morning, I'll read a little about the speech in the newspaper, preferably the section where they analyze the claims Bush makes and present the facts on each issue. He's usually stretching the truth or pontificating with oodles of wishful thinking.
Greg and I have always taken the girls with us when we exercise our civil rights to vote, since Allie was an infant. Gosh, guess who I'll be voting for in November, 2008. Anyone but George W. Bush!
Monday, January 22, 2007
Transformation
About three years ago, my boss at the time decided that we needed our offices painted. Because I work in Human Resources, most of us have private offices and we could all choose our own colors. When she came up with the idea, I had no idea how terrible things would turn out to be.
My boss chose a creamy tan color for her office, which is really nice because it's pretty bright and neutral and her office is now my office. My office at the time was gray, so I chose a creamy light yellow that unfortunately turned out to be a rather bright yellow. One co-worker chose a weird kind of puke green color, another a seagreen color, and another pink.
My boss told the receptionist at the time that she could choose the colors for the department bathrooms, for our conference room, for the outer hallway, and for the reception area and inner hallway. Our company color is blue, so she chose a pretty dark blue for the conference room and a slightly lighter blue for the men's bathroom. For the women's bathroom, she chose a mauvey purple color, which is really unfortunate because the ceiling light/fan does not have a bright bulb. It's like going into a little cave to pee. For the outer hallway, she chose peach. For the reception area and inner hallway, she chose the same mauvey purple.
The end result should have been obvious even before any paint hit the walls, just from the description I've given. Our office looks god awful. I mean, ugly, weird, and, as one of my former co-workers used to say, a lot like an Easter egg.
We've lived with all of this color for three years, except that when we got some new filing cabinets in the front office area about a year ago, we painted one wall white. I became boss about a year ago and I've been waiting for the building maintenance people to come and paint the rest white too, which they promised to do when they had time. They've never had time.
This week, the era of weird color is partially coming to an end. We're painting the inner hallway rice paper (white), at least two more walls in the reception area the same white, my old yellow office (which now has a male occupant) a tan color, the puke-green office (which is temporarily vacant) the same tan, and the women's bathroom white. If we have time and paint left, we're going to paint at least a couple of walls in the pink office white (that office now has an occupant who says she is not a pink person).
The conference room actually looks pretty good because it's a bigger room. I don't really see the men's bathroom and they haven't complained, so that's staying blue (plus they have a nice bright light, so it's not bad). The seagreen office is vacant and probably will be for awhile, so I'm leaving that. I would love to do the peach outer hallway over in white, but I am supposed to be getting some human resources work done this week, so that probably won't happen.
Today me and my benefits guy spent several hours giving the inner hallway two coats of rice paper. I can't believe what a dramatic difference it makes. I've been working in a freaking cave! It's so bright that we seriously talked about whether we should take a bulb out of one of the fluorescent fixtures that light it. It looks so much better, I'm amazed.
I did give myself two gargantuan slivers when I was taping the molding, so that sucked. Fortunately, our company nurse is right downstairs and he put on his lighted magnifiers, dug around with a scalpel, and got them out. He earned his salary for this week just for helping me, in my opinion.
I also am already feeling aches and pains from my unnatural postures today. Unnatural, by the way, because I normally spend all day sitting on my ass typing at a computer or talking on the phone. Today I was squatting, stretching, and standing on a ladder for several hours, which is coincidentally the same types of activities that our 1100 manufacturing employees do every day.
My workers comp people and the occupational health staff talk about work hardening for newly hired employees all of the time. That's what I got today, some work hardening, and some environmental transformation. Mauvey purple, be damned!
My boss chose a creamy tan color for her office, which is really nice because it's pretty bright and neutral and her office is now my office. My office at the time was gray, so I chose a creamy light yellow that unfortunately turned out to be a rather bright yellow. One co-worker chose a weird kind of puke green color, another a seagreen color, and another pink.
My boss told the receptionist at the time that she could choose the colors for the department bathrooms, for our conference room, for the outer hallway, and for the reception area and inner hallway. Our company color is blue, so she chose a pretty dark blue for the conference room and a slightly lighter blue for the men's bathroom. For the women's bathroom, she chose a mauvey purple color, which is really unfortunate because the ceiling light/fan does not have a bright bulb. It's like going into a little cave to pee. For the outer hallway, she chose peach. For the reception area and inner hallway, she chose the same mauvey purple.
The end result should have been obvious even before any paint hit the walls, just from the description I've given. Our office looks god awful. I mean, ugly, weird, and, as one of my former co-workers used to say, a lot like an Easter egg.
We've lived with all of this color for three years, except that when we got some new filing cabinets in the front office area about a year ago, we painted one wall white. I became boss about a year ago and I've been waiting for the building maintenance people to come and paint the rest white too, which they promised to do when they had time. They've never had time.
This week, the era of weird color is partially coming to an end. We're painting the inner hallway rice paper (white), at least two more walls in the reception area the same white, my old yellow office (which now has a male occupant) a tan color, the puke-green office (which is temporarily vacant) the same tan, and the women's bathroom white. If we have time and paint left, we're going to paint at least a couple of walls in the pink office white (that office now has an occupant who says she is not a pink person).
The conference room actually looks pretty good because it's a bigger room. I don't really see the men's bathroom and they haven't complained, so that's staying blue (plus they have a nice bright light, so it's not bad). The seagreen office is vacant and probably will be for awhile, so I'm leaving that. I would love to do the peach outer hallway over in white, but I am supposed to be getting some human resources work done this week, so that probably won't happen.
Today me and my benefits guy spent several hours giving the inner hallway two coats of rice paper. I can't believe what a dramatic difference it makes. I've been working in a freaking cave! It's so bright that we seriously talked about whether we should take a bulb out of one of the fluorescent fixtures that light it. It looks so much better, I'm amazed.
I did give myself two gargantuan slivers when I was taping the molding, so that sucked. Fortunately, our company nurse is right downstairs and he put on his lighted magnifiers, dug around with a scalpel, and got them out. He earned his salary for this week just for helping me, in my opinion.
I also am already feeling aches and pains from my unnatural postures today. Unnatural, by the way, because I normally spend all day sitting on my ass typing at a computer or talking on the phone. Today I was squatting, stretching, and standing on a ladder for several hours, which is coincidentally the same types of activities that our 1100 manufacturing employees do every day.
My workers comp people and the occupational health staff talk about work hardening for newly hired employees all of the time. That's what I got today, some work hardening, and some environmental transformation. Mauvey purple, be damned!
Global warming?
We got six inches of new snow yesterday. And our snowblower is broken (or, at least, Greg has given up trying to get it to start). I don't have the faintest idea myself how to start or use a snowblower, so during one of the short periods yesterday when it wasn't snowing, our family foursome went out and shoveled.
We weren't really out there very long--our driveway isn't much (especially compared to, say, my parents' driveway--but they have a working snowblower). One of our neighbors saw us outside and came across the street to do our sidewalk. That was very sweet--Greg has regularly used our snowblower to do the sidewalks of other neighbors of ours, but I don't think he's ever done Lori's.
It was light, fluffy snow, thankfully. And now, everything is looking very Winter Wonderlandish. It's supposed to warm up a little today, so maybe the snow will get wetter and the girls will be able to pack it and make a snowman. We haven't made any snowmen yet this winter, despite this being our third good snowstorm.
And last night, the snow made everything outside so bright that after we turned out the lights to head to bed, both Greg and I were looking for a full moon or something. No moon, just lots and lots of frozen precipitation. Lots and lots.
We weren't really out there very long--our driveway isn't much (especially compared to, say, my parents' driveway--but they have a working snowblower). One of our neighbors saw us outside and came across the street to do our sidewalk. That was very sweet--Greg has regularly used our snowblower to do the sidewalks of other neighbors of ours, but I don't think he's ever done Lori's.
It was light, fluffy snow, thankfully. And now, everything is looking very Winter Wonderlandish. It's supposed to warm up a little today, so maybe the snow will get wetter and the girls will be able to pack it and make a snowman. We haven't made any snowmen yet this winter, despite this being our third good snowstorm.
And last night, the snow made everything outside so bright that after we turned out the lights to head to bed, both Greg and I were looking for a full moon or something. No moon, just lots and lots of frozen precipitation. Lots and lots.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Dreams and aspirations
Allie was asking me about growing up. We discussed that she'll be able to drive a car (Mommy will be teaching her that one, I'm sure) and have a job and maybe a family. Julia heard us and asked what we were talking about.
Allie said we were talking about work and how when Julia grew up, she could be a doctor or a dancer or president or an artist.
Julia said, with great excitement, "I want to be a butterfly!"
Allie said we were talking about work and how when Julia grew up, she could be a doctor or a dancer or president or an artist.
Julia said, with great excitement, "I want to be a butterfly!"
Thursday, January 18, 2007
No, Greg is not dead
I headed upstairs tonight and told Greg, "I'm going to blog, and I'm going to blog about you." He grunted in response. See, ladies out there, we may have been married for 10 years, but our communication skills are still top-notch.
Anyhow, to respond to an inquiry I got earlier tonight, no, Greg's hands are not broken. Yes, it has been since approximately December 27th, 2006, that he last blogged (yes, that is last year, people) but he is also not dead--witness the witty repartee that we engaged in above.
He says he doesn't feel like blogging, so he's been (purposely or not) leaving it to me to fill the gap in news about our family by me blathering on about illness and dental issues and sores and boils (those latter two topics as he would have).
So just as a non-health-related update, I want to report that our new couch was delivered today. It was relatively cheap, but it has a queen sleeper like the old one and we figure we'll try to get it to last for at least five years, until the girls are older and less likely to spill grape or cherry kool-aid on it. Then we'll buy a better quality one.
I put up four flyers at work advertising that our old couch was available for free, and we found out today that we have a taker (which is a good thing, because it's in the dining room and Marcia's going nuts because she can't run the sweeper in there). A sweeper, by the way for those of you not born in Illinois, is a vacuum cleaner. Yes, Marcia, Greg's mom, is staying with us this week, and because of that, our house is cleaner than it's been since we moved in (it was new then, oh lo that eight years ago).
Besides the obvious benefits of having a mother-in-law staying here who likes to clean, she's also been tremendously helpful to us by taking care of Julia, being here for the Moxi repairman (gotta have our TV), and being here for the couch delivery. And tomorrow she's going to be here for the old couch pickup too, so we get our house back to normal by the weekend. Maybe we should kidnap her permanently. Did I mention she cooks too? We love you, Marcia.
And to my parents, who were here last week caring for Julia and Allie, we love you too.
Here's a public thank you to all of you for everything. And we can't forget Greg's father, Dave, who's driving all the way to Wisconsin to retrieve his wife this weekend. Thank you too, Dave.
So look, Greg, I didn't write just about you after all.
Anyhow, to respond to an inquiry I got earlier tonight, no, Greg's hands are not broken. Yes, it has been since approximately December 27th, 2006, that he last blogged (yes, that is last year, people) but he is also not dead--witness the witty repartee that we engaged in above.
He says he doesn't feel like blogging, so he's been (purposely or not) leaving it to me to fill the gap in news about our family by me blathering on about illness and dental issues and sores and boils (those latter two topics as he would have).
So just as a non-health-related update, I want to report that our new couch was delivered today. It was relatively cheap, but it has a queen sleeper like the old one and we figure we'll try to get it to last for at least five years, until the girls are older and less likely to spill grape or cherry kool-aid on it. Then we'll buy a better quality one.
I put up four flyers at work advertising that our old couch was available for free, and we found out today that we have a taker (which is a good thing, because it's in the dining room and Marcia's going nuts because she can't run the sweeper in there). A sweeper, by the way for those of you not born in Illinois, is a vacuum cleaner. Yes, Marcia, Greg's mom, is staying with us this week, and because of that, our house is cleaner than it's been since we moved in (it was new then, oh lo that eight years ago).
Besides the obvious benefits of having a mother-in-law staying here who likes to clean, she's also been tremendously helpful to us by taking care of Julia, being here for the Moxi repairman (gotta have our TV), and being here for the couch delivery. And tomorrow she's going to be here for the old couch pickup too, so we get our house back to normal by the weekend. Maybe we should kidnap her permanently. Did I mention she cooks too? We love you, Marcia.
And to my parents, who were here last week caring for Julia and Allie, we love you too.
Here's a public thank you to all of you for everything. And we can't forget Greg's father, Dave, who's driving all the way to Wisconsin to retrieve his wife this weekend. Thank you too, Dave.
So look, Greg, I didn't write just about you after all.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
American successor
Paula Abdul had better watch her ass.
The latest (sixth, if you're counting) edition of American Idol began last night with a compilation of auditions from Minneapolis and, tonight, from Seattle. And yes, of course, I'm aware that this show is a copy of Pop Idol (is that the right title?), which was a British hit first.
A 16-year-old girl from Madison, which is about 20 minutes from us, was chosen for the next round on the show last night. Our local news channel highlighted her selection after the show concluded, and then managed to talk over every word she sang as they told her story. We missed her actual audition on the original show, so that was annoying.
I'm not a big fan of this show. I tend to catch the introductory shows because they're on sequential nights for hours, then I kind of follow what's going on by reading updates in the newspaper, then maybe I'll catch part of the finale.
Tonight, our family sat down together to watch some of the "unusual" (to say the least) people who auditioned in Seattle. And that's why Paula had better enjoy her gig while it lasts.
Another train wreck of a singer got up and started singing, and Julia took her thumb out of her mouth and said, "He's not a good shinger." You got that one right, little girl.
The latest (sixth, if you're counting) edition of American Idol began last night with a compilation of auditions from Minneapolis and, tonight, from Seattle. And yes, of course, I'm aware that this show is a copy of Pop Idol (is that the right title?), which was a British hit first.
A 16-year-old girl from Madison, which is about 20 minutes from us, was chosen for the next round on the show last night. Our local news channel highlighted her selection after the show concluded, and then managed to talk over every word she sang as they told her story. We missed her actual audition on the original show, so that was annoying.
I'm not a big fan of this show. I tend to catch the introductory shows because they're on sequential nights for hours, then I kind of follow what's going on by reading updates in the newspaper, then maybe I'll catch part of the finale.
Tonight, our family sat down together to watch some of the "unusual" (to say the least) people who auditioned in Seattle. And that's why Paula had better enjoy her gig while it lasts.
Another train wreck of a singer got up and started singing, and Julia took her thumb out of her mouth and said, "He's not a good shinger." You got that one right, little girl.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Oh, the throbbing!
Sorry, just my small attempt at getting some of the google hits that Dan's managing over at All That Comes With It by repeating the names of some birds in a recent post.
I know I've been writing a lot lately about being sick, but this afternoon was kind of memorable. I had to drive to one of our other plants for something and I was only there for a few minutes before I turned around and started back. It was a pretty nice day for a drive--sunny, the roads have pretty much cleared up from the 5 inches of snow we've gotten over the last three days, and Wisconsin Public Radio was discussing something somewhat interesting.
I am going to have to have a root canal, and I'm on the waiting list for the endodontist. They're going to call when they have an opening and I'll have 2 hours to drop everything and get up there, to be relieved of the pain that's had me popping Tylenol at an alarming rate.
As I left town, I noticed that my already-you-know-that-you-can-usually-expect-it late afternoon throb was starting in my jaw, but it wasn't too bad, so I started out. It's a 45-minute trip and within 15 minutes, my jaw really started to hurt. By 30 minutes, I was calculating how many more miles I had to go. There isn't really anywhere to stop on this trip to buy Tylenol and I stupidly didn't have any with me.
I pulled up at the plant I worked at and went straight to the vending machine that dispenses commonly used medications. I popped in my quarter and trudged up the stairs to the bubbler to swallow my relief. You would not have wanted to get in my way as I headed towards those pills. I told Greg when I got home that if he had held those pills from me and required me to murder someone to get them, I'd have asked him who he wanted killed.
My whole face and head felt throbbing and tight and tense and sensitive and hot and hurt. By the time I swallowed those pills, the pain had moved up as far as my eye socket and even that hurt. Bizarre.
20 minutes later, I felt perfectly normal. Let us now all bow down and give thanks for modern pharmaceuticals. The pharmaceutical companies may perpetrate the biggest ripoffs of consumers in modern and ancient history, but god knows, they do give people what they need.
I know I've been writing a lot lately about being sick, but this afternoon was kind of memorable. I had to drive to one of our other plants for something and I was only there for a few minutes before I turned around and started back. It was a pretty nice day for a drive--sunny, the roads have pretty much cleared up from the 5 inches of snow we've gotten over the last three days, and Wisconsin Public Radio was discussing something somewhat interesting.
I am going to have to have a root canal, and I'm on the waiting list for the endodontist. They're going to call when they have an opening and I'll have 2 hours to drop everything and get up there, to be relieved of the pain that's had me popping Tylenol at an alarming rate.
As I left town, I noticed that my already-you-know-that-you-can-usually-expect-it late afternoon throb was starting in my jaw, but it wasn't too bad, so I started out. It's a 45-minute trip and within 15 minutes, my jaw really started to hurt. By 30 minutes, I was calculating how many more miles I had to go. There isn't really anywhere to stop on this trip to buy Tylenol and I stupidly didn't have any with me.
I pulled up at the plant I worked at and went straight to the vending machine that dispenses commonly used medications. I popped in my quarter and trudged up the stairs to the bubbler to swallow my relief. You would not have wanted to get in my way as I headed towards those pills. I told Greg when I got home that if he had held those pills from me and required me to murder someone to get them, I'd have asked him who he wanted killed.
My whole face and head felt throbbing and tight and tense and sensitive and hot and hurt. By the time I swallowed those pills, the pain had moved up as far as my eye socket and even that hurt. Bizarre.
20 minutes later, I felt perfectly normal. Let us now all bow down and give thanks for modern pharmaceuticals. The pharmaceutical companies may perpetrate the biggest ripoffs of consumers in modern and ancient history, but god knows, they do give people what they need.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Reinhard Ulrich, RIP
I got a message yesterday from an old college friend (she's not old, but college was kind of a long time ago) about the death of one of my favorite professors. Reinhard Ulrich was 77 and died of cancer. He was a wonderful man, who had a lot to do with my becoming confident that I could actually handle college and subsequently, life.
Well, to tell the truth, when I first sat down in his class, my self-confidence took a beating. Then later I started to believe I could really handle college. You see, I didn't really know anyone who had attended college when I moved to campus. I wondered if I could really handle it and I was convinced that almost everyone was smarter than I was.
Second semester of my freshman year, I was chosen for my college's honors series, based on my first semester's grades. Reinie (as we called him behind his back) led that Freshman Honors class (I wonder if he was brave or if he got stuck with us). The first couple of classes, the class discussed Picasso and Great Books.
When I say the class, I mean most of other people in the room discussed those things and definitely not me, because I'd never heard the phrase Great Book in my life and although of course I knew Picasso was an artist, I couldn't have told you any particular piece of art that he sculpted or painted.
What turned the tide was when we got the syllabus for the class (by the way, I'm sure it's not a surprise that I had no idea what a syllabus was when I started college), I bought the books, and I started reading Plato. Even though I thought the whole allegory of the cave thing was pretty bizarre, I had some semi-intelligent things to say in class and I gained confidence every week. That was mostly due to Reinie, who someone managed to never make you feel like you had said something stupid even when you pretty much did.
I'll always remember him talking about his "beasties," his German accent (it was the first time in my life I'd spent any appreciable time with someone not born in America), and his kindness. He died much too soon, before he could make men and women out of even more raw freshmen. Lakeland won't be the same without his presence.
Well, to tell the truth, when I first sat down in his class, my self-confidence took a beating. Then later I started to believe I could really handle college. You see, I didn't really know anyone who had attended college when I moved to campus. I wondered if I could really handle it and I was convinced that almost everyone was smarter than I was.
Second semester of my freshman year, I was chosen for my college's honors series, based on my first semester's grades. Reinie (as we called him behind his back) led that Freshman Honors class (I wonder if he was brave or if he got stuck with us). The first couple of classes, the class discussed Picasso and Great Books.
When I say the class, I mean most of other people in the room discussed those things and definitely not me, because I'd never heard the phrase Great Book in my life and although of course I knew Picasso was an artist, I couldn't have told you any particular piece of art that he sculpted or painted.
What turned the tide was when we got the syllabus for the class (by the way, I'm sure it's not a surprise that I had no idea what a syllabus was when I started college), I bought the books, and I started reading Plato. Even though I thought the whole allegory of the cave thing was pretty bizarre, I had some semi-intelligent things to say in class and I gained confidence every week. That was mostly due to Reinie, who someone managed to never make you feel like you had said something stupid even when you pretty much did.
I'll always remember him talking about his "beasties," his German accent (it was the first time in my life I'd spent any appreciable time with someone not born in America), and his kindness. He died much too soon, before he could make men and women out of even more raw freshmen. Lakeland won't be the same without his presence.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Depression
My cat just died, one of my best employees unexpectedly gave notice and I have to try to do his work myself (with one other person's help) until I find a replacement, I've only received four resumes for the job this week, I was already behind in my old job duties before this came up, my teeth hurt and I'm afraid I'm going to need a root canal, I'm still taking an antibiotic and I don't like taking medicine, Julia gave me her cold, I haven't been sleeping for crap lately, I fired a guy today who has a wife and two kids at home (he deserved it, but I feel badly for them), the restaurant we went to tonight had a heating vent above our table that blew really hot air from right on top of us every five minutes which dried out my contact lenses until I didn't think I'd ever be able to peel them off my eyes, and our sleeper sofa mechanism broke and we have to buy a new couch.
On the good side, we have banana bread, chocolate ice cream, fudge cookies, and Nestle Tollhouse bar cookies in the house. We never have this many treats around, so I guess things are looking up.
On the good side, we have banana bread, chocolate ice cream, fudge cookies, and Nestle Tollhouse bar cookies in the house. We never have this many treats around, so I guess things are looking up.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Overhauling
What would you change about your house if you had, say, $150,000. You can't move, you have to remodel your current home. And you have to spend it all on remodeling, you can't use it for anything else.
Greg and I have been in our house for eight years now and we've talked maybe a little more than occasionally about what we'd do to our house if we won the lottery (this fantasy might become a little closer to reality, by the way, if we actually played the lottery more than twice per year). Greg always says that we'd move to a brick house; he has this serious obsession about brick houses, but moving is not in the rules.
First, I'd bump out the entire back of the bottom story. Our living room is kind of small, to the point that we have only ever had it arranged one way, because the couch will only fit on the wall by the big windows.
Next to the living room, I'd bump out the dinette. We have to have a tiny little table (from Ikea, naturally) because that's the only size that will fit. You can get six people around it, as long as they don't mind being cozy and you don't mind that you don't actually have room for any food, just the plates, glasses, and silverware.
Then next to that, I'd bump out the kitchen, not so much because I think we need a bigger kitchen (though Greg has ideas on that front if he cares to contribute), but because on the other side of the kitchen is the doorway to the mud room. If we bumped out the kitchen but kept it the same size, we could make the mud room bigger and I'd actually have room to fold my clean laundry and maybe leave out an ironing board and have a bigger closet for all of the stuff that first comes into the house through the back door that's also in that room.
Then I'd probably go upstairs and bump out our master bathroom. I'm not the whirlpool tub kind of person, which is good because we don't have one, but it would be nice to have a double vanity, at least.
Then I'd bump out our master bedroom a little. We actually have a really nice sized master bedroom, but if it was even larger, we might be able to split off a small study full of bookshelves. Then me or Greg could be on the computer in the corner of our room without having to try to be quiet for the one trying to get to sleep.
And that's it. All of these bumpouts are on the back of the house, so we could just take off the back of the house and do the expansion everywhere at once. As a bonus, even though Allie doesn't need a bigger bedroom, she'd get a little more space too.
OK, that's my $150,000. How about you?
Greg and I have been in our house for eight years now and we've talked maybe a little more than occasionally about what we'd do to our house if we won the lottery (this fantasy might become a little closer to reality, by the way, if we actually played the lottery more than twice per year). Greg always says that we'd move to a brick house; he has this serious obsession about brick houses, but moving is not in the rules.
First, I'd bump out the entire back of the bottom story. Our living room is kind of small, to the point that we have only ever had it arranged one way, because the couch will only fit on the wall by the big windows.
Next to the living room, I'd bump out the dinette. We have to have a tiny little table (from Ikea, naturally) because that's the only size that will fit. You can get six people around it, as long as they don't mind being cozy and you don't mind that you don't actually have room for any food, just the plates, glasses, and silverware.
Then next to that, I'd bump out the kitchen, not so much because I think we need a bigger kitchen (though Greg has ideas on that front if he cares to contribute), but because on the other side of the kitchen is the doorway to the mud room. If we bumped out the kitchen but kept it the same size, we could make the mud room bigger and I'd actually have room to fold my clean laundry and maybe leave out an ironing board and have a bigger closet for all of the stuff that first comes into the house through the back door that's also in that room.
Then I'd probably go upstairs and bump out our master bathroom. I'm not the whirlpool tub kind of person, which is good because we don't have one, but it would be nice to have a double vanity, at least.
Then I'd bump out our master bedroom a little. We actually have a really nice sized master bedroom, but if it was even larger, we might be able to split off a small study full of bookshelves. Then me or Greg could be on the computer in the corner of our room without having to try to be quiet for the one trying to get to sleep.
And that's it. All of these bumpouts are on the back of the house, so we could just take off the back of the house and do the expansion everywhere at once. As a bonus, even though Allie doesn't need a bigger bedroom, she'd get a little more space too.
OK, that's my $150,000. How about you?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I have enough holes, thank you
For the last three days, our local paper has been running a series on the current popularity of tattoos, piercing, branding, and scarification. That last one, if you didn't know, is the process of purposely cutting your skin with scalpels (or a dull stick I guess, if you're into the pain and infection aspect of it) to leave intentional scars.
For some reason, I started talking about this at work with our receptionist, who is maybe 25 or so. I had noticed, of course, that she has a nose piercing and some holes in her ears, but I found out just how obtuse I am.
She actually has two tattoos, one on the top of her foot and one she just had started three weeks ago, in the middle of her upper back between her shoulder blades. She has a bar piercing that goes all the way across the top of her left ear (so two different holes). She has four piercings at the top of her right ear. And she has the nostril piercing.
The biggest shocker, however, is that she has a tongue piercing that I never noticed, even though she's been working with us for three months. I really need new glasses, my god. She tried to make me feel better by explaining that she's become very expert at laughing and talking with her mouth mostly closed and when she demonstrated, I realized that she's absolutely practiced at hiding her piercing. I swear to god, I never noticed a thing and I see her every single work day.
I talked about the newspaper series with her and that the writer had emphasized how long some piercings take to heal. There's this one place called the tragus that's part of your ear and the newspaper said that it never really heals after piercing, ever. That's when she admitted that she's had three of the four holes in her right ear for 9 or 10 months and they still haven't healed.
Greg and I actually talk about tattoos with Allie all the time, telling her how stupid she would be to get one (the comment section is at the bottom of the post, people). I'm not sure if she or Julia will completely rebel in 11 (or 14 1/2) years and decide a tattoo is the perfect way to really piss off her parents.
Just in case, I think I'll remember our receptionist's story about her ear not healing. And if her ear ever falls off from infection, Allie's going on a road trip to visit her!
For some reason, I started talking about this at work with our receptionist, who is maybe 25 or so. I had noticed, of course, that she has a nose piercing and some holes in her ears, but I found out just how obtuse I am.
She actually has two tattoos, one on the top of her foot and one she just had started three weeks ago, in the middle of her upper back between her shoulder blades. She has a bar piercing that goes all the way across the top of her left ear (so two different holes). She has four piercings at the top of her right ear. And she has the nostril piercing.
The biggest shocker, however, is that she has a tongue piercing that I never noticed, even though she's been working with us for three months. I really need new glasses, my god. She tried to make me feel better by explaining that she's become very expert at laughing and talking with her mouth mostly closed and when she demonstrated, I realized that she's absolutely practiced at hiding her piercing. I swear to god, I never noticed a thing and I see her every single work day.
I talked about the newspaper series with her and that the writer had emphasized how long some piercings take to heal. There's this one place called the tragus that's part of your ear and the newspaper said that it never really heals after piercing, ever. That's when she admitted that she's had three of the four holes in her right ear for 9 or 10 months and they still haven't healed.
Greg and I actually talk about tattoos with Allie all the time, telling her how stupid she would be to get one (the comment section is at the bottom of the post, people). I'm not sure if she or Julia will completely rebel in 11 (or 14 1/2) years and decide a tattoo is the perfect way to really piss off her parents.
Just in case, I think I'll remember our receptionist's story about her ear not healing. And if her ear ever falls off from infection, Allie's going on a road trip to visit her!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Medicine all around
In our continuing fight against family illness, Julia and I are now on medication. Julia has been getting Tylenol intermittently for fever and she also has a nasty cough and runny nose, poor child. I called my dentist this morning because I have an infected cheek/face, and I'm on an antibiotic as a precaution. So I am quite ready for all the members of my family to regain their health, starting ohhh, now.
In other news, Allie seriously needs to work on her writing at school. Julia is going to waste away if she doesn't start eating something more substantial than cottage cheese and fruit snacks, and the weather is getting freezing cold again (in other words, back to normal January temps).
I think it's time for me to develop Seasonal Affective Disorder. Too bad I'm not a sunlamp person.
In other news, Allie seriously needs to work on her writing at school. Julia is going to waste away if she doesn't start eating something more substantial than cottage cheese and fruit snacks, and the weather is getting freezing cold again (in other words, back to normal January temps).
I think it's time for me to develop Seasonal Affective Disorder. Too bad I'm not a sunlamp person.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Brush your teeth
Seriously, if you haven't brushed your teeth in the last couple of hours, go do it right now.
Otherwise, you could end up like me right now, in serious pain from the "simple" filling I got at the dentist this afternoon.
In the past, I've had root canals, fillings, crowns, bleaching, bonding, teeth pulled, and an implant. This, at this moment, is right up there with how I felt before I got my root canals, painwise.
I took some Tylenol and can't take anymore for another 1 1/2 hours. I've been icing my cheek for the last hour.
My mouth still hurts. I'd moan if it didn't hurt to open my mouth. I guess I can moan with my mouth shut?
Otherwise, you could end up like me right now, in serious pain from the "simple" filling I got at the dentist this afternoon.
In the past, I've had root canals, fillings, crowns, bleaching, bonding, teeth pulled, and an implant. This, at this moment, is right up there with how I felt before I got my root canals, painwise.
I took some Tylenol and can't take anymore for another 1 1/2 hours. I've been icing my cheek for the last hour.
My mouth still hurts. I'd moan if it didn't hurt to open my mouth. I guess I can moan with my mouth shut?
Illness continues to stalk our home
The latest victim, Julia. She came out with a croupy cough starting early yesterday morning, and by the time she woke from her nap in late afternoon, she was up to a temp of 103.
Some Tylenol made her feel better and she even played a little later in the day. At this point, it appears to just be a cold. Julia loves her Tylenol. Maybe the fact that it's bubble gum flavored has something to do with that.
I remember loving the orange taste of the baby aspirin I chewed as a kid, so who I am to talk. My sisters and I did know better than to eat the chocolate Ex-lax when we weren't sick, however!
Nowadays, some pharmacies have flavor additives for nasty tasting medicines that aren't made just for kids. As long as our kids are still stymied by child-proof caps, I guess that kind of flavoring is a good thing.
In better news, little Ashton Wade came home from the hospital last Friday. I think he weighs a little over 4 lbs. right now. Here's hoping his family has a smooth transition to becoming a fivesome and that he continues to flourish.
Some Tylenol made her feel better and she even played a little later in the day. At this point, it appears to just be a cold. Julia loves her Tylenol. Maybe the fact that it's bubble gum flavored has something to do with that.
I remember loving the orange taste of the baby aspirin I chewed as a kid, so who I am to talk. My sisters and I did know better than to eat the chocolate Ex-lax when we weren't sick, however!
Nowadays, some pharmacies have flavor additives for nasty tasting medicines that aren't made just for kids. As long as our kids are still stymied by child-proof caps, I guess that kind of flavoring is a good thing.
In better news, little Ashton Wade came home from the hospital last Friday. I think he weighs a little over 4 lbs. right now. Here's hoping his family has a smooth transition to becoming a fivesome and that he continues to flourish.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Memories of Piggy
I feel a little better emotionally prepared today to tell some favorite stories about Pig, who died two days ago at age 13.
Greg picked Pig initially at the humane society because she was the only kitten who wasn't making a lot of noise. As soon as her got her in the car to take her home, he realized how mistaken he was on that front. She fit in Greg's hand and was basically a ball of black, brown, and tan fur (a tortoiseshell).
Initially, her name was Grendel, after the monster in Beowolf. No one knew what Greg meant when he explained that, because Greg didn't know any other English majors at the time. Her name became Pig, because of her appetite.
Pig was eventually spayed and front declawed. Before that happened, Greg lived in a townhouse apartment with open carpeted stairs. He remembers sitting in his living room, watching her use her little needle-sharp claws to climb up the stairs backwards, hanging upside down.
Upstairs in the townhouse, there was a rather thin wooden railing around the stair opening. Pig loved to walk along the top of the railing, even after the day when Greg was sitting in his living room and Piggy fell from the top floor to land on the carpeted first floor. Greg says she laid there winded for a minute and then got up, acting out the traditional cat posture of "I meant to do that."
Once Greg and I started dating, I told him that I thought Pig would love to look out his screened front door (his windows were kind of high up and Pig loved to look at birds). I set her up on a chair in the doorway and Greg and I started to watch TV. A few minutes later, we both heard Pig meowing rather frantically. We figured out that she's leaned against the screen and fallen out the bottom of the screen where it was torn. Poor Pig had never been outside and she was completely freaked by finding herself on the front porch.
When Greg and I moved in together, Pig had to adjust to having another cat in the house (my cat, Butterscotch--who died four years ago) and to a new house. It was not easy for her. I don't think she even came out of the spare bedroom for the first two weeks. However, when we moved to an apartment in Wisconsin and they were starting from neutral territory, Pig was the brave one who explored all of the floors of the townhouse first.
Pig and Butterscotch fought a lot initially. Greg and I used to hate it when we'd be in bed, absolutely sound asleep, and the cats would chase each other completely across our bodies. There was inevitably a paw or three that would hit you right in the middle of your chest or stomach and suddenly, shockingly steal your breath.
I pretty much have always gotten up in the morning earlier than Greg. Pig and I quickly developed a routine of her waiting on the floor by the bathroom cabinet until I finished putting in my contact lenses, then she'd get intense loving for at least three or four minutes each day.
We used to say that Pig was coming to 'have sex' when she'd get these fits where she demanded intense petting from various people--Greg, me, my mom, and my sisters, especially.
Before she developed diabetes, Pig was quite a fat cat. When Butterscotch got sick, we didn't even realize that she was eating all of his food until we noticed how thin he'd gotten and how she was really porking up (bad pun). We put her on a diet after his death and she was in much better shape until she really got thin from diabetes.
Pig was always very gentle with our girls, though I think she resented how these squealing things took up our laps when she wanted to sit down and get some love. One of her last routines was waiting until Allie and Julia came downstairs right after waking up. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, usually with a blanket over their legs. Then Pig would jump up by Allie and settle down for a period of intense petting while the girls watched morning TV and ate some breakfast.
During the last night she was alive, Pig had gone downstairs to the basement to use her litterbox (or try to) and then she stayed downstairs, hiding under one of our futons. I went looking for her when I got up and she came out so I could pet her. I knew I was probably saying goodbye.
I carried her upstairs with me and she had a little drink of water. A few minutes later, I woke the girls and they settled on the couch. As sick as she was, Pig still went over to the couch as usual to get some love from Allie. I had to lift her up because she was so weak.
We loved her so much.
Greg picked Pig initially at the humane society because she was the only kitten who wasn't making a lot of noise. As soon as her got her in the car to take her home, he realized how mistaken he was on that front. She fit in Greg's hand and was basically a ball of black, brown, and tan fur (a tortoiseshell).
Initially, her name was Grendel, after the monster in Beowolf. No one knew what Greg meant when he explained that, because Greg didn't know any other English majors at the time. Her name became Pig, because of her appetite.
Pig was eventually spayed and front declawed. Before that happened, Greg lived in a townhouse apartment with open carpeted stairs. He remembers sitting in his living room, watching her use her little needle-sharp claws to climb up the stairs backwards, hanging upside down.
Upstairs in the townhouse, there was a rather thin wooden railing around the stair opening. Pig loved to walk along the top of the railing, even after the day when Greg was sitting in his living room and Piggy fell from the top floor to land on the carpeted first floor. Greg says she laid there winded for a minute and then got up, acting out the traditional cat posture of "I meant to do that."
Once Greg and I started dating, I told him that I thought Pig would love to look out his screened front door (his windows were kind of high up and Pig loved to look at birds). I set her up on a chair in the doorway and Greg and I started to watch TV. A few minutes later, we both heard Pig meowing rather frantically. We figured out that she's leaned against the screen and fallen out the bottom of the screen where it was torn. Poor Pig had never been outside and she was completely freaked by finding herself on the front porch.
When Greg and I moved in together, Pig had to adjust to having another cat in the house (my cat, Butterscotch--who died four years ago) and to a new house. It was not easy for her. I don't think she even came out of the spare bedroom for the first two weeks. However, when we moved to an apartment in Wisconsin and they were starting from neutral territory, Pig was the brave one who explored all of the floors of the townhouse first.
Pig and Butterscotch fought a lot initially. Greg and I used to hate it when we'd be in bed, absolutely sound asleep, and the cats would chase each other completely across our bodies. There was inevitably a paw or three that would hit you right in the middle of your chest or stomach and suddenly, shockingly steal your breath.
I pretty much have always gotten up in the morning earlier than Greg. Pig and I quickly developed a routine of her waiting on the floor by the bathroom cabinet until I finished putting in my contact lenses, then she'd get intense loving for at least three or four minutes each day.
We used to say that Pig was coming to 'have sex' when she'd get these fits where she demanded intense petting from various people--Greg, me, my mom, and my sisters, especially.
Before she developed diabetes, Pig was quite a fat cat. When Butterscotch got sick, we didn't even realize that she was eating all of his food until we noticed how thin he'd gotten and how she was really porking up (bad pun). We put her on a diet after his death and she was in much better shape until she really got thin from diabetes.
Pig was always very gentle with our girls, though I think she resented how these squealing things took up our laps when she wanted to sit down and get some love. One of her last routines was waiting until Allie and Julia came downstairs right after waking up. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, usually with a blanket over their legs. Then Pig would jump up by Allie and settle down for a period of intense petting while the girls watched morning TV and ate some breakfast.
During the last night she was alive, Pig had gone downstairs to the basement to use her litterbox (or try to) and then she stayed downstairs, hiding under one of our futons. I went looking for her when I got up and she came out so I could pet her. I knew I was probably saying goodbye.
I carried her upstairs with me and she had a little drink of water. A few minutes later, I woke the girls and they settled on the couch. As sick as she was, Pig still went over to the couch as usual to get some love from Allie. I had to lift her up because she was so weak.
We loved her so much.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Mom of the Year
I'll be waiting for my award after this one.
Today, I took both girls to the dentist. It was Julia's first time. I should emphasize, by the way, that Allie adores going to the dentist. It's a pediatric dentist office, which I insisted on because of my sister, Pam, who went on dental visits with me when I was a kid and who refused to open her mouth despite any threat or bribe (and yes, she paid for that in a big way later in her childhood).
This dental office has a movie theater theme, with many movie posters on the walls, movie theater fold-down stadium-style seats, a mannequin ticket taker at the registration desk, a big screen TV continuously showing movies that's dressed up with velvet curtains like a theater, and film wallpaper spooling around the walls. Each reclining plush dental chair has a personal flatscreen television showing children's movies, plus the regular TV screens around the walls that show other movies.
Children wear fancy sunglasses so they don't get the bright dental light in their eyes. X-rays are presented as taking photos of their teeth, and there are an extraordinary number of prizes, jewelry, and stickers available after each visit is completed.
And there are other pretty standard kid dentist features, like puppets with oversize real teeth to teach brushing, different toys to hold (all movie themes here), the gas nasal mask presented as an elephant's nose, etc.
At Allie's first dental visit, the technician took care to ask her flavor preference, gave her a ride in the chair, let her pick the pink sunglasses, demonstrated each tool on her hand first, and so on. She thought it was all wonderful and as soon as we finished, she immediately wanted to go back and see the dentist again.
Despite me and Allie talking up the dentist, Julia wasn't so sure she wanted to go. Allie's exam was first and she passed everything with flying colors, as normal. Julia was a little tentative watching her at first, then she was pretty interested in everything that was happening. I allowed myself to get hopeful (big mistake).
Julia got in the dental chair with only a little urging. She enjoyed the ride up and down in the chair. Then the technician started to show her the soft brush (which polishes her teeth) and Julia didn't want that anywhere near her hand, let alone in her mouth. She accepted a drink from the water sprayer, but didn't want the suction thing to come close. It went downhill from there.
Before long, she was sitting in my lap in the chair (because she wouldn't sit by herself anymore), holding her hands over her mouth while me, Allie, and the technician (who irritatingly keep referring to Julia as her "new friend") tried to convince her to open her mouth. We all tried talking. We resorted to threats. We got limited success with bribery.
We all gave up, but she still needed to be examined by the dentist himself. Dr. Wilson came over and Julia wasn't haven't any of it. She was done. She didn't want to hear anything about how the doctor just wanted to look and wouldn't give any ouchies or put anything inside her mouth. She was finished with this whole dentist thing.
So I leaned her back in my arms and she started to scream. Loudly. And kick the technician (until I grabbed her legs). Did I mention that this is one big, really open dentist office. I would guess that at least 30 people could hear her yelling.
The good news is that because she was screaming, the dentist actually got a really good review of her mouth. She doesn't have any cavities (which is surprising, considering how she loves to chew her toothbrush and swallow toothpaste instead of brush) and her teeth are developing normally (despite the thumbsucking, which we need to convince her to stop, hopefully by her next appointment--at which time she'll be about the age that Allie was when she quit).
Julia was thrilled to get out of the office and go get macaroni and cheese for lunch. I took her back to daycare, took Allie back to school, and went back to work. And I only have ten more gray hairs to show for my day.
Today, I took both girls to the dentist. It was Julia's first time. I should emphasize, by the way, that Allie adores going to the dentist. It's a pediatric dentist office, which I insisted on because of my sister, Pam, who went on dental visits with me when I was a kid and who refused to open her mouth despite any threat or bribe (and yes, she paid for that in a big way later in her childhood).
This dental office has a movie theater theme, with many movie posters on the walls, movie theater fold-down stadium-style seats, a mannequin ticket taker at the registration desk, a big screen TV continuously showing movies that's dressed up with velvet curtains like a theater, and film wallpaper spooling around the walls. Each reclining plush dental chair has a personal flatscreen television showing children's movies, plus the regular TV screens around the walls that show other movies.
Children wear fancy sunglasses so they don't get the bright dental light in their eyes. X-rays are presented as taking photos of their teeth, and there are an extraordinary number of prizes, jewelry, and stickers available after each visit is completed.
And there are other pretty standard kid dentist features, like puppets with oversize real teeth to teach brushing, different toys to hold (all movie themes here), the gas nasal mask presented as an elephant's nose, etc.
At Allie's first dental visit, the technician took care to ask her flavor preference, gave her a ride in the chair, let her pick the pink sunglasses, demonstrated each tool on her hand first, and so on. She thought it was all wonderful and as soon as we finished, she immediately wanted to go back and see the dentist again.
Despite me and Allie talking up the dentist, Julia wasn't so sure she wanted to go. Allie's exam was first and she passed everything with flying colors, as normal. Julia was a little tentative watching her at first, then she was pretty interested in everything that was happening. I allowed myself to get hopeful (big mistake).
Julia got in the dental chair with only a little urging. She enjoyed the ride up and down in the chair. Then the technician started to show her the soft brush (which polishes her teeth) and Julia didn't want that anywhere near her hand, let alone in her mouth. She accepted a drink from the water sprayer, but didn't want the suction thing to come close. It went downhill from there.
Before long, she was sitting in my lap in the chair (because she wouldn't sit by herself anymore), holding her hands over her mouth while me, Allie, and the technician (who irritatingly keep referring to Julia as her "new friend") tried to convince her to open her mouth. We all tried talking. We resorted to threats. We got limited success with bribery.
We all gave up, but she still needed to be examined by the dentist himself. Dr. Wilson came over and Julia wasn't haven't any of it. She was done. She didn't want to hear anything about how the doctor just wanted to look and wouldn't give any ouchies or put anything inside her mouth. She was finished with this whole dentist thing.
So I leaned her back in my arms and she started to scream. Loudly. And kick the technician (until I grabbed her legs). Did I mention that this is one big, really open dentist office. I would guess that at least 30 people could hear her yelling.
The good news is that because she was screaming, the dentist actually got a really good review of her mouth. She doesn't have any cavities (which is surprising, considering how she loves to chew her toothbrush and swallow toothpaste instead of brush) and her teeth are developing normally (despite the thumbsucking, which we need to convince her to stop, hopefully by her next appointment--at which time she'll be about the age that Allie was when she quit).
Julia was thrilled to get out of the office and go get macaroni and cheese for lunch. I took her back to daycare, took Allie back to school, and went back to work. And I only have ten more gray hairs to show for my day.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Rest in peace, gentle soul
Pig died today. She was 13 years old.
Greg got her as a kitten, from the humane society, about a year before he and I met. She had a wonderful, peaceful life full of attention from her loving slave Greg until he moved in with me. Then she gained another slave.
I don't think Pig knew she was even a cat at that point. She used to sit on the counter in Greg's bathroom and meow at the cat in the mirror.
She was a very sweet cat, with very soft fur, and she was always gentle, even with our girls. We are all going to miss her tremendously.
Goodbye, sweet Piggy. I hope you're in kitty heaven, rolling in catnip, resting on the softest of pillows, and dipping your paw into huge glasses of frothy milk. We love you.
Greg got her as a kitten, from the humane society, about a year before he and I met. She had a wonderful, peaceful life full of attention from her loving slave Greg until he moved in with me. Then she gained another slave.
I don't think Pig knew she was even a cat at that point. She used to sit on the counter in Greg's bathroom and meow at the cat in the mirror.
She was a very sweet cat, with very soft fur, and she was always gentle, even with our girls. We are all going to miss her tremendously.
Goodbye, sweet Piggy. I hope you're in kitty heaven, rolling in catnip, resting on the softest of pillows, and dipping your paw into huge glasses of frothy milk. We love you.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Illness all around
I've said it before and I'll say it again (because you can't stop me)--sometimes it seems that the purpose of the holidays is to get together with your family and friends and exchange germs. After all, you get over the germs that you yourself had and since it is winter, what else is there to do but get new ones and feel miserable again.
The latest victims are our daycare provider and her older son, Jaden. Rather mysterious high fevers. So today, the girls went to a daycare center that's affiliated with Greg's work.
The last time they were there (I think more than 2 years ago), Julia cried and sobbed and was hysterical that Daddy was leaving. And unlike how those things usually go, where the child forgets about Daddy or Mommy by about 3 minutes after they leave, she continued to cry and sob. Greg actually had to leave work and bring her home.
Fortunately, today went just fine. Julia doesn't remember her last visit there and I don't think Allie really does either. When it came time for Greg to leave, both of them were too busy looking at all of the new toys to pay much attention and it sounds like they had a busy, fun day. Except for the three naughty boys that Julia told me threw things.
The weather has continued to be very mild, especially for January, but it's also been cloudy, gray, and often misting or raining almost every day. We're projected to have three more days of 45-50 degree weather before Mother Nature remembers that we live in Wisconsin and the temperature drops back to normal (5 degrees or so).
In other news, Pig the cat is not recovering well from her vet visit last week. She went back to the vet today for fluids and to be fed through a tube. She's home and listless tonight but we're taking her back tomorrow for more treatment. We're crossing our fingers that she'll rally tomorrow and get through this. Poor Piggy.
The latest victims are our daycare provider and her older son, Jaden. Rather mysterious high fevers. So today, the girls went to a daycare center that's affiliated with Greg's work.
The last time they were there (I think more than 2 years ago), Julia cried and sobbed and was hysterical that Daddy was leaving. And unlike how those things usually go, where the child forgets about Daddy or Mommy by about 3 minutes after they leave, she continued to cry and sob. Greg actually had to leave work and bring her home.
Fortunately, today went just fine. Julia doesn't remember her last visit there and I don't think Allie really does either. When it came time for Greg to leave, both of them were too busy looking at all of the new toys to pay much attention and it sounds like they had a busy, fun day. Except for the three naughty boys that Julia told me threw things.
The weather has continued to be very mild, especially for January, but it's also been cloudy, gray, and often misting or raining almost every day. We're projected to have three more days of 45-50 degree weather before Mother Nature remembers that we live in Wisconsin and the temperature drops back to normal (5 degrees or so).
In other news, Pig the cat is not recovering well from her vet visit last week. She went back to the vet today for fluids and to be fed through a tube. She's home and listless tonight but we're taking her back tomorrow for more treatment. We're crossing our fingers that she'll rally tomorrow and get through this. Poor Piggy.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Year
Julia does not eat. We fix food that we know she likes and she often looks at it, plays with it, then says her tummy hurts or that she's done and she gets down from the table.
I think the child subsists on cottage cheese, fruit snacks, chicken nuggets and cereal. Tonight, the girls got the following on their plates: pigs in a blanket (hot dogs wrapped in buttery crescent rolls), macaroni and cheese (Kraft, of course), and cottage cheese.
Julia was in one of her no-I-don't-want-cottage-cheese moods, even though it's often all she eats for dinner. She picked some of the roll off her hot dog, complained that her macaroni and cheese was hot (as it cooled and congealed on her plate), and didn't touch her cottage cheese.
So of course, we knew she'd be asking for fruit snacks later. And, after her bath, she did. I told her she could have melon, a banana, or grapes. She said, "I show you what I want," and went off to the refrigerator.
I wasn't watching too closely and she didn't call me over, so I wasn't sure exactly what she was doing as she dug in the vegetable and fruit drawer. Finally, I asked her what she was up to and she said she was getting oranges.
She walked past shortly, on her way downstairs to ask Daddy to peel some for her, with a mesh sack of oranges slung over her shoulder like Santa Claus. I couldn't help smiling, and she caught me looking at her as she circled back to get some napkins.
It's fun to have an independent 3 1/2 year old. Happy New Year!
I think the child subsists on cottage cheese, fruit snacks, chicken nuggets and cereal. Tonight, the girls got the following on their plates: pigs in a blanket (hot dogs wrapped in buttery crescent rolls), macaroni and cheese (Kraft, of course), and cottage cheese.
Julia was in one of her no-I-don't-want-cottage-cheese moods, even though it's often all she eats for dinner. She picked some of the roll off her hot dog, complained that her macaroni and cheese was hot (as it cooled and congealed on her plate), and didn't touch her cottage cheese.
So of course, we knew she'd be asking for fruit snacks later. And, after her bath, she did. I told her she could have melon, a banana, or grapes. She said, "I show you what I want," and went off to the refrigerator.
I wasn't watching too closely and she didn't call me over, so I wasn't sure exactly what she was doing as she dug in the vegetable and fruit drawer. Finally, I asked her what she was up to and she said she was getting oranges.
She walked past shortly, on her way downstairs to ask Daddy to peel some for her, with a mesh sack of oranges slung over her shoulder like Santa Claus. I couldn't help smiling, and she caught me looking at her as she circled back to get some napkins.
It's fun to have an independent 3 1/2 year old. Happy New Year!
Friday, December 29, 2006
Shopping sucks
I can't believe that some people (including my sisters, in a big way) love to go shopping. I went to the mall today, the big mall on the west side of Madison that I try to avoid because I don't have the store locations memorized.
I always end up parking at the wrong end of the structure, which is the pits, not because I don't need the exercise of walking but because if I carry a reasonably heavy shopping bag in my right hand for any period of time, my fingers go numb (old tendonitis thing).
And there were an insane number of people in this mall for a Friday afternoon. It was quite obvious that at least half of the city's residents that got gift cards for Christmas were there, using the cards up before they started losing value (that's been on the news a lot lately, but I think they're talking about cards unused after a year, people, not after a week!).
I'll admit that the reason I was at the mall at all was to return a few things that Greg got me. I now have a new favorite store to hate--Coldwater Creek. They had two women working at the checkout/return desk and it literally took half an hour for me to get to the front of the line and do my return.
There were people in line both in front and behind me who were not even doing returns. They just wanted to buy something from this store. You have got to be freaking kidding (guess what word I wanted to type there, but my mom reads this blog and she hates swearing, let alone the "f" word).
I was very, very happy to get out of there. Breathe in, breathe out.
Now I can concentrate on looking forward to doing Christmas with my family this weekend. Just what my children need--more toys! I'm kidding, I'm incredibly grateful I have a family that wants to give my children gifts (did I mention they're the only grandchildren?).
We're going to rent the storage locker for all the new stuff on Tuesday.
I always end up parking at the wrong end of the structure, which is the pits, not because I don't need the exercise of walking but because if I carry a reasonably heavy shopping bag in my right hand for any period of time, my fingers go numb (old tendonitis thing).
And there were an insane number of people in this mall for a Friday afternoon. It was quite obvious that at least half of the city's residents that got gift cards for Christmas were there, using the cards up before they started losing value (that's been on the news a lot lately, but I think they're talking about cards unused after a year, people, not after a week!).
I'll admit that the reason I was at the mall at all was to return a few things that Greg got me. I now have a new favorite store to hate--Coldwater Creek. They had two women working at the checkout/return desk and it literally took half an hour for me to get to the front of the line and do my return.
There were people in line both in front and behind me who were not even doing returns. They just wanted to buy something from this store. You have got to be freaking kidding (guess what word I wanted to type there, but my mom reads this blog and she hates swearing, let alone the "f" word).
I was very, very happy to get out of there. Breathe in, breathe out.
Now I can concentrate on looking forward to doing Christmas with my family this weekend. Just what my children need--more toys! I'm kidding, I'm incredibly grateful I have a family that wants to give my children gifts (did I mention they're the only grandchildren?).
We're going to rent the storage locker for all the new stuff on Tuesday.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Sound asleep
Poor Pig, she's home from the vet after a long day and she will feel better as a result of her adventure, but probably not too soon.
We were really concerned early last night because she wasn't drinking. Then we had to take up her food and water at 8 last night because she was going to be put under today.
This morning, the girls and I took her in. The vet put her to sleep, gave her an antibiotic shot, pulled her loose tooth, cleaned the rest of her teeth, gave her fluids, expressed her anal glands (don't ask), cleaned her ears, and prescribed ear drops for a week and capsule antibiotics for two weeks. $288.52.
We couldn't pick her up until after 4 and she even then was still a little wobbly. Pig was very happy to get out of her cat carrier and I was relieved when she went over to her water dish and started drinking. The vet's assistant said she needed to keep drinking tonight to wash out the last of the anesthesia.
Now she's been home for a few hours and she's snoring with her head under the Christmas tree. I can hear her from across the room.
We were really concerned early last night because she wasn't drinking. Then we had to take up her food and water at 8 last night because she was going to be put under today.
This morning, the girls and I took her in. The vet put her to sleep, gave her an antibiotic shot, pulled her loose tooth, cleaned the rest of her teeth, gave her fluids, expressed her anal glands (don't ask), cleaned her ears, and prescribed ear drops for a week and capsule antibiotics for two weeks. $288.52.
We couldn't pick her up until after 4 and she even then was still a little wobbly. Pig was very happy to get out of her cat carrier and I was relieved when she went over to her water dish and started drinking. The vet's assistant said she needed to keep drinking tonight to wash out the last of the anesthesia.
Now she's been home for a few hours and she's snoring with her head under the Christmas tree. I can hear her from across the room.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
And now, the cat
This morning, Pig wended her away around everyone's feet, mewing repeatedly. Not meowing--that's not her style--just mewing rather piteously.
She's a champion at faking that we've forgotten to feed her, so we didn't pay too much attention. When Greg came downstairs, he checked her water dish and cleaned and refilled that (I'd already put food down for her).
Then we all went off on our individual days.
After an entire year in my new job, I spent about 4 1/2 hours this afternoon cleaning out files and making new files to clear off my desktop and tabletop. Tedious, dirty (since my office is located inside a factory), but ultimately satisfying.
When I got home, Greg was sitting on the floor petting Pig. It turns out that one of her bottom teeth, one of the big ones on the corner of her lower left jaw, is loose--in fact, pushed out at a weird angle.
She's 13 1/2 years old, so this kind of thing is rather to be expected, but you still feel sorry for her. She desperately wants to drink but apparently that's quite painful. She did eat about 1/3 of her normal amount of food, but still, something obviously has to be done.
So tomorrow morning, Pig is going to the vet to be put to sleep--not permanently, just with an anesthetic! They'll take care of the loose tooth and check her out for other issues.
We used to be religious about taking our cats in for annual checkups, but since Butterscotch died and we later found out Pig has diabetes, we've kind of been letting things slide. Frankly, it was a relief not to have to chase the Pig from under the furniture to get her into the cat carrier every year.
Nonetheless, Pig is off tomorrow to be seen. I hope she doesn't read this post in the meantime or we'll never find her.
She's a champion at faking that we've forgotten to feed her, so we didn't pay too much attention. When Greg came downstairs, he checked her water dish and cleaned and refilled that (I'd already put food down for her).
Then we all went off on our individual days.
After an entire year in my new job, I spent about 4 1/2 hours this afternoon cleaning out files and making new files to clear off my desktop and tabletop. Tedious, dirty (since my office is located inside a factory), but ultimately satisfying.
When I got home, Greg was sitting on the floor petting Pig. It turns out that one of her bottom teeth, one of the big ones on the corner of her lower left jaw, is loose--in fact, pushed out at a weird angle.
She's 13 1/2 years old, so this kind of thing is rather to be expected, but you still feel sorry for her. She desperately wants to drink but apparently that's quite painful. She did eat about 1/3 of her normal amount of food, but still, something obviously has to be done.
So tomorrow morning, Pig is going to the vet to be put to sleep--not permanently, just with an anesthetic! They'll take care of the loose tooth and check her out for other issues.
We used to be religious about taking our cats in for annual checkups, but since Butterscotch died and we later found out Pig has diabetes, we've kind of been letting things slide. Frankly, it was a relief not to have to chase the Pig from under the furniture to get her into the cat carrier every year.
Nonetheless, Pig is off tomorrow to be seen. I hope she doesn't read this post in the meantime or we'll never find her.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Sick girl update
Since our girls slept in the car on the way home yesterday, we let them stay up an hour past their normal bedtime, until we said we weren't opening any more toys--play with what we've already unboxed!
True to what I told Marcia, sick girl Allie slept through the night, until 5:30 this morning when she called me. She asked for water and sipped a little, then she threw up violently three times over the next hour and a half.
We had thought she was getting better since she made it through the whole day yesterday without tossing her cookies, but no such luck. And she still had a fever.
Mid-morning, I took her to the doctor because this is either the third or fourth day of this crap. We like Dr. Tom, but there was nothing he could do except look at her and charge us $120 for 6 minutes. Oh, well, we know now it's not appendicitis or something.
By the time we got home, Allie was asking if she could try to eat. She and Julia are both napping right now and so far, Allie's kept down the cereal she had for lunch.
Julia's days, however, of hogging all the new toys are probably limited. Allie's been lying languidly on a couch for a long time, and now the sharing (I mean fighting) will soon commence!
True to what I told Marcia, sick girl Allie slept through the night, until 5:30 this morning when she called me. She asked for water and sipped a little, then she threw up violently three times over the next hour and a half.
We had thought she was getting better since she made it through the whole day yesterday without tossing her cookies, but no such luck. And she still had a fever.
Mid-morning, I took her to the doctor because this is either the third or fourth day of this crap. We like Dr. Tom, but there was nothing he could do except look at her and charge us $120 for 6 minutes. Oh, well, we know now it's not appendicitis or something.
By the time we got home, Allie was asking if she could try to eat. She and Julia are both napping right now and so far, Allie's kept down the cereal she had for lunch.
Julia's days, however, of hogging all the new toys are probably limited. Allie's been lying languidly on a couch for a long time, and now the sharing (I mean fighting) will soon commence!
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry Christmas!
Hello, we're home, thank goodness. I truly love to visit my in-law's home--it's very comfortable, they're wonderful company, we get to see all of Greg's family members, my parents-in-law sleep near our kids so we don't get woken up in the night, the food is wonderful. But.
They all live almost 4 hours away and just the anticipation of the long journey home is enough to add a sour note of dread to our every visit.
Plus there's more. Allie threw up in the car on the way down on Saturday and we thought it was just carsickness.
Then she spiked a fever on Christmas Eve day, she threw up several more times, and she's been completely uncharacteristically quiet and listless considering there are piles of new toys everywhere.
Meanwhile, Julia missed her nap yesterday, both girls slept poorly last night, and both woke up early today. On the way home in the car this afternoon, they both fell asleep for a good two hours. That was a blessing.
So now we're home, Santa came here too so there were even more fun things to unwrap, but neither girl has eaten well since this morning.
Allie managed to barely make it through the day without throwing up but she still has a low-grade fever, Julia is still healthy, we're feeling OK if tired, and tomorrow, no one has to go anywhere and no one is visiting.
I really hope the girls sleep in, but I think the scent of new toys will waft upstairs and wake them up early. That's a big part of what their Christmas is about, after all.
I hope you all got what you wanted for Christmas, even if that was just a day off from work. Happy Holidays!
They all live almost 4 hours away and just the anticipation of the long journey home is enough to add a sour note of dread to our every visit.
Plus there's more. Allie threw up in the car on the way down on Saturday and we thought it was just carsickness.
Then she spiked a fever on Christmas Eve day, she threw up several more times, and she's been completely uncharacteristically quiet and listless considering there are piles of new toys everywhere.
Meanwhile, Julia missed her nap yesterday, both girls slept poorly last night, and both woke up early today. On the way home in the car this afternoon, they both fell asleep for a good two hours. That was a blessing.
So now we're home, Santa came here too so there were even more fun things to unwrap, but neither girl has eaten well since this morning.
Allie managed to barely make it through the day without throwing up but she still has a low-grade fever, Julia is still healthy, we're feeling OK if tired, and tomorrow, no one has to go anywhere and no one is visiting.
I really hope the girls sleep in, but I think the scent of new toys will waft upstairs and wake them up early. That's a big part of what their Christmas is about, after all.
I hope you all got what you wanted for Christmas, even if that was just a day off from work. Happy Holidays!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Sing, sing a song
Allie's concert turned out to be pretty entertaining today, for a grade school event.
She did a fine job singing her 60s tunes. That was the theme--her music teacher is retiring after this year and so Mrs. Baker did a show with music through the decades. The first graders thus ended up singing the aforementioned "Yellow Submarine" and "Puff the Magic Dragon."
Other classes did do some Christmassy songs, including the dreadful "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," which was somewhat highlighted by Allie's principal, Mr. Jamison, putting on a dress and wig (he's normally pretty bald) and pretending to get run over.
They also had kids dressing up as Bing Crosby and Doris Day, Elvis, and the Beatles.
The biggest hit of the concert, though, had to be when the kindergarteners sang "Rubber Duckie" from Sesame Street and Allie's two gym teachers were pushed out in a cardboard bathtub, wearing only swim trunks and Bert and Ernie heads.
Allie thought the funny part was their handheld bubble machines. I thought it was her age 25ish gym teacher scrubbing under his arm with a scrub brush, while her age 50ish gym teacher waved and tried to stay down in the tub.
Good clean fun!
She did a fine job singing her 60s tunes. That was the theme--her music teacher is retiring after this year and so Mrs. Baker did a show with music through the decades. The first graders thus ended up singing the aforementioned "Yellow Submarine" and "Puff the Magic Dragon."
Other classes did do some Christmassy songs, including the dreadful "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," which was somewhat highlighted by Allie's principal, Mr. Jamison, putting on a dress and wig (he's normally pretty bald) and pretending to get run over.
They also had kids dressing up as Bing Crosby and Doris Day, Elvis, and the Beatles.
The biggest hit of the concert, though, had to be when the kindergarteners sang "Rubber Duckie" from Sesame Street and Allie's two gym teachers were pushed out in a cardboard bathtub, wearing only swim trunks and Bert and Ernie heads.
Allie thought the funny part was their handheld bubble machines. I thought it was her age 25ish gym teacher scrubbing under his arm with a scrub brush, while her age 50ish gym teacher waved and tried to stay down in the tub.
Good clean fun!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Older child update
Today at school, Allie made a gingerbread house (actually a graham cracker house, but let's not be picky).
Each family of each student was assigned something to contribute. Our contribution was just a box of graham crackers; fortunately we weren't in the "make royal frosting" group. If you don't know, royal frosting is the glue that keeps gingerbread houses together and I believe it's quite challenging to keep the stuff from turning into a block of concrete after you mix it.
Allie told us all about her construction while we ate dinner tonight. Actually, me, Greg, and Allie ate--Julia's had a low-grade fever for two days and so she's gone anorexic on us.
Allie said that she had 1/2 hour to decorate her house, but it sounded to us like she ended up using about six pounds of candy. We get to bring the thing home on Thursday, after her school concert, so we'll see.
Ah, yes. The All-School Sing. Mustn't call it a Holiday Concert, lest someone get offended and sue the school district.
And what songs is my daughter going to be singing for this lovely "holiday" event, you may ask? Well, two of them are "Puff, the Magic Dragon," and "Yellow Submarine."
Feel free to comment if you like.
Each family of each student was assigned something to contribute. Our contribution was just a box of graham crackers; fortunately we weren't in the "make royal frosting" group. If you don't know, royal frosting is the glue that keeps gingerbread houses together and I believe it's quite challenging to keep the stuff from turning into a block of concrete after you mix it.
Allie told us all about her construction while we ate dinner tonight. Actually, me, Greg, and Allie ate--Julia's had a low-grade fever for two days and so she's gone anorexic on us.
Allie said that she had 1/2 hour to decorate her house, but it sounded to us like she ended up using about six pounds of candy. We get to bring the thing home on Thursday, after her school concert, so we'll see.
Ah, yes. The All-School Sing. Mustn't call it a Holiday Concert, lest someone get offended and sue the school district.
And what songs is my daughter going to be singing for this lovely "holiday" event, you may ask? Well, two of them are "Puff, the Magic Dragon," and "Yellow Submarine."
Feel free to comment if you like.
Monday, December 18, 2006
He's here!
Ashton Wade, 3 lbs., 9 oz., 16 inches long. Born Sunday, December 17, 2006 (almost 10 weeks early, but breathing on his own).
Congratulations to Karina and Larry as they add little Ashton to their family. Big brother Jaden and big sister Mariah are excited (probably more because their mom will be coming home soon after being hospitalized on bedrest for 7 weeks or so, but nonetheless).
Congratulations to their entire family! I hope everything goes smoothly and that Ashton will be home soon. He needs to get busy on being the state's best baby ever!
Congratulations to Karina and Larry as they add little Ashton to their family. Big brother Jaden and big sister Mariah are excited (probably more because their mom will be coming home soon after being hospitalized on bedrest for 7 weeks or so, but nonetheless).
Congratulations to their entire family! I hope everything goes smoothly and that Ashton will be home soon. He needs to get busy on being the state's best baby ever!
Saturday, December 16, 2006
A case study
Julia was playing with Allie's Leapster game tonight when bedtime came. We went upstairs so the girls could brush teeth and go potty and she wanted to keep playing even when she finished those tasks and crawled into bed.
She cried when I told her she had to give it up, so I told her I would put it on top of her dresser and that she could have it as soon as she woke up. Meanwhile, Greg had crawled into Allie's bed to pretend he was going to sleep with her. I went downstairs to watch TV.
This is what happened after that in Julia's head:
1. I'm not tired. I want my game.
2. I can't reach the game.
3. I could reach the game if I was taller.
4. I would be taller if I had a stepstool.
5. There's a stepstool in Allie's room.
6. I'm going to get out of bed to get the stepstool and get my game.
7. No one will be able to figure out that I'm being naughty.
8. Time to get out of bed.
9. I'm opening the door.
10. I'm going into Allie's room for the stepstool.
11. Oh, oh. Daddy's in here!
12. I'm going to lie!
Daddy said, Julia, why are you getting the stepstool? Julia said, I need to get my teddy bear.
Unfortunately for Julia, Daddy followed her into her room. Now the game is in Mommy's and Daddy's room.
She cried when I told her she had to give it up, so I told her I would put it on top of her dresser and that she could have it as soon as she woke up. Meanwhile, Greg had crawled into Allie's bed to pretend he was going to sleep with her. I went downstairs to watch TV.
This is what happened after that in Julia's head:
1. I'm not tired. I want my game.
2. I can't reach the game.
3. I could reach the game if I was taller.
4. I would be taller if I had a stepstool.
5. There's a stepstool in Allie's room.
6. I'm going to get out of bed to get the stepstool and get my game.
7. No one will be able to figure out that I'm being naughty.
8. Time to get out of bed.
9. I'm opening the door.
10. I'm going into Allie's room for the stepstool.
11. Oh, oh. Daddy's in here!
12. I'm going to lie!
Daddy said, Julia, why are you getting the stepstool? Julia said, I need to get my teddy bear.
Unfortunately for Julia, Daddy followed her into her room. Now the game is in Mommy's and Daddy's room.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Stuff
More than a month ago, Greg fired the girl who was trying to become our latest regular cleaning lady. I call her a girl because even though she was starting her own cleaning business with a friend, she couldn't have been more than 23 years old.
We gave her a try and the first time she cleaned, which was supposed to be her "super stupendous get your house in order for the first time" cleaning, she did a terrible job. I mean really terrible, where you wonder what she did in your house for two hours, or more.
The biggest disadvantage of this situation, besides the fact that Greg and I both really hate cleaning and so our house is now pretty darn dirty, is that it's become really, really messy.
When we've had a cleaning lady, we always aggressively tidied our house every two weeks, right before they visited, so they would spend more time making things spic and span and less time picking up and moving things.
We have not aggressively tidied the house in a long, long time and, as a result, we have stuff everywhere. I'm typing this sitting in a chair in the living room, and I can see the following items without even turning my head:
Many, many children's books, one of Allie's school notebooks from last year that she likes because she has many drawings in it, the bridle and harness from a toy horse (it's pink, of course), a Highlights magazine, a Leapster handheld game (pink), magazines (motorcycle and entertainment), tissues, crumpled napkins, Happy Meals toys times four, Allie's diary, dress-up shoes that Julia was wearing the other night (pink), a picture frame that talks that both girls like to record messages on, a Hello Kitty purse (pink), a fabric rose (pink) that has a bendy stem, a toy car, Julia's blankie (pink), Greg's laptop and about five different computer cables (I'm not typing on that computer), a Magic Eight Ball, an empty bottle of Gatorade, a giant ball, a newspaper, a 2007 calendar, a puzzle, binoculars, a toy lipstick (pink), a rock, a wand that goes with a Magic Dora hair growing doll (but the doll has been missing in action for ages), an Elmo birthday blow-out, a Christmas ornament, a CD, a stray sock, an eyeglass case, a toy golf ball, a fruit snack wrapper, a drawing that Allie made at daycare, the remote that we only use to change the TV to watch DVDs, a painted pumpkin that had better go in the trash before it rots into the carpeting, a pewter tooth fairy container, a plastic bottle that used to hold cookie decorations and that Julia has now filled with water, part of the vacuum cleaner hose extension, a Halloween pillow, the (pink) reel to a Disney Princess projector (but we don't know where the projector is), a (pink) purse full of pens, a magnet, a "cleansing wipes" container that Julia appropriated and filled with who knows what else, a hair band (pink), a white tube that I don't know the origin of, a Skydancer launching contraption (pink) with no Skydancer, two daughters watching "Polar Express," and a cat.
Christmas is coming. We'll clean for Christmas, right? Goodness, I hope so!
We gave her a try and the first time she cleaned, which was supposed to be her "super stupendous get your house in order for the first time" cleaning, she did a terrible job. I mean really terrible, where you wonder what she did in your house for two hours, or more.
The biggest disadvantage of this situation, besides the fact that Greg and I both really hate cleaning and so our house is now pretty darn dirty, is that it's become really, really messy.
When we've had a cleaning lady, we always aggressively tidied our house every two weeks, right before they visited, so they would spend more time making things spic and span and less time picking up and moving things.
We have not aggressively tidied the house in a long, long time and, as a result, we have stuff everywhere. I'm typing this sitting in a chair in the living room, and I can see the following items without even turning my head:
Many, many children's books, one of Allie's school notebooks from last year that she likes because she has many drawings in it, the bridle and harness from a toy horse (it's pink, of course), a Highlights magazine, a Leapster handheld game (pink), magazines (motorcycle and entertainment), tissues, crumpled napkins, Happy Meals toys times four, Allie's diary, dress-up shoes that Julia was wearing the other night (pink), a picture frame that talks that both girls like to record messages on, a Hello Kitty purse (pink), a fabric rose (pink) that has a bendy stem, a toy car, Julia's blankie (pink), Greg's laptop and about five different computer cables (I'm not typing on that computer), a Magic Eight Ball, an empty bottle of Gatorade, a giant ball, a newspaper, a 2007 calendar, a puzzle, binoculars, a toy lipstick (pink), a rock, a wand that goes with a Magic Dora hair growing doll (but the doll has been missing in action for ages), an Elmo birthday blow-out, a Christmas ornament, a CD, a stray sock, an eyeglass case, a toy golf ball, a fruit snack wrapper, a drawing that Allie made at daycare, the remote that we only use to change the TV to watch DVDs, a painted pumpkin that had better go in the trash before it rots into the carpeting, a pewter tooth fairy container, a plastic bottle that used to hold cookie decorations and that Julia has now filled with water, part of the vacuum cleaner hose extension, a Halloween pillow, the (pink) reel to a Disney Princess projector (but we don't know where the projector is), a (pink) purse full of pens, a magnet, a "cleansing wipes" container that Julia appropriated and filled with who knows what else, a hair band (pink), a white tube that I don't know the origin of, a Skydancer launching contraption (pink) with no Skydancer, two daughters watching "Polar Express," and a cat.
Christmas is coming. We'll clean for Christmas, right? Goodness, I hope so!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Colors of the wind
How did it end up that my girls, like millions of other little girls worldwide, are addicted to pink?
Now I realize that we parents start them out right away with pink outfits of every kind, but at the time, they are too little to do more than puke and pee on the clothing. They certainly aren't focusing on what color they're surrounded by.
Julia is 3 and by now it's completely ingrained. She loves pink shirts, pink pants, pink socks, pink shoes, pink dress-up clothes, pink toys, and, of course, her pink blankie. She'll generally wear other colors (thank god), but as soon as I wash her pink things, she wants to wear them again.
We put a pretty good effort into not having Allie be a girly girl, completely to no avail. We (and our families) bought her trucks and Matchbox cars and bats and balls, dinosaurs and golf clubs and lots of Legos, and she'd make castles out of the Legos for her dinosaurs. Nothing was mentioned about anything pink.
Then I'd tell her a story at night about a princess named Allie and this is how it would go:
Me: Once upon a time, there was a princess named Allie who lived in a magical castle. What color was the castle, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And the castle had a beautiful tower attached to it. What color was the tower, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And in the tower was Princess Allie's beautiful bedroom. What color was the door, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me (laughing): And inside, she had a beautiful bed with a huge canopy. What color was the bed, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: One day, Princess Allie was playing in her room when she decided to go outside and take a ride on her magical horse. What color was the horse, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And what was the horsey's name, Allie?
Allie (long pause): Jack!
(Every animal was named Jack in Allie's world at this age, including Jack the First, a fish, and Jack the Second, another fish. Both quickly died and went to heaven.)
Me: So Princess Allie took a wonderful ride on Jack the pink horse through the beautiful countryside filled with amazing trees. What color were the trees, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And there were also wonderful smelling flowers everywhere. What color were the flowers, Allie?
Allie: Pink------and purple!
Me: So Princess Allie had a wonderful ride through the forest and when she got tired, she went back to the pink castle for a snack. What did she have for her snack, Allie?
Allie (another long pause): Cookies!
Me: And what kind of cookies were they, Allie?
Allie: Pink cookies!
Me: And with the cookies, Princess Allie had a refreshing drink. What did she have to drink, Allie?
Allie: Pink milk! (At the time, we mixed Allie's milk with strawberry milk powder so she'd drink more, so her milk often was really pink.)
Me: So Princess Allie finished eating her pink cookies and drinking her pink milk and she went to the pink tower and climbed the stairs to the pink door and opened it to find her pink room and her pink bed and she laid down and took a wonderful nap. Time to go to sleep now, Princess Allie.
The amazing part is that Julia was a baby when we started doing that story, so she didn't hear it with all of Allie's pink answers. Three years later, after a long gap from me doing it with Allie at all, I started doing it with Julia, when Allie was in her own room.
All of Julia's answers were also, Pink! Maybe it's genetic?
Now I realize that we parents start them out right away with pink outfits of every kind, but at the time, they are too little to do more than puke and pee on the clothing. They certainly aren't focusing on what color they're surrounded by.
Julia is 3 and by now it's completely ingrained. She loves pink shirts, pink pants, pink socks, pink shoes, pink dress-up clothes, pink toys, and, of course, her pink blankie. She'll generally wear other colors (thank god), but as soon as I wash her pink things, she wants to wear them again.
We put a pretty good effort into not having Allie be a girly girl, completely to no avail. We (and our families) bought her trucks and Matchbox cars and bats and balls, dinosaurs and golf clubs and lots of Legos, and she'd make castles out of the Legos for her dinosaurs. Nothing was mentioned about anything pink.
Then I'd tell her a story at night about a princess named Allie and this is how it would go:
Me: Once upon a time, there was a princess named Allie who lived in a magical castle. What color was the castle, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And the castle had a beautiful tower attached to it. What color was the tower, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And in the tower was Princess Allie's beautiful bedroom. What color was the door, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me (laughing): And inside, she had a beautiful bed with a huge canopy. What color was the bed, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: One day, Princess Allie was playing in her room when she decided to go outside and take a ride on her magical horse. What color was the horse, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And what was the horsey's name, Allie?
Allie (long pause): Jack!
(Every animal was named Jack in Allie's world at this age, including Jack the First, a fish, and Jack the Second, another fish. Both quickly died and went to heaven.)
Me: So Princess Allie took a wonderful ride on Jack the pink horse through the beautiful countryside filled with amazing trees. What color were the trees, Allie?
Allie: Pink!
Me: And there were also wonderful smelling flowers everywhere. What color were the flowers, Allie?
Allie: Pink------and purple!
Me: So Princess Allie had a wonderful ride through the forest and when she got tired, she went back to the pink castle for a snack. What did she have for her snack, Allie?
Allie (another long pause): Cookies!
Me: And what kind of cookies were they, Allie?
Allie: Pink cookies!
Me: And with the cookies, Princess Allie had a refreshing drink. What did she have to drink, Allie?
Allie: Pink milk! (At the time, we mixed Allie's milk with strawberry milk powder so she'd drink more, so her milk often was really pink.)
Me: So Princess Allie finished eating her pink cookies and drinking her pink milk and she went to the pink tower and climbed the stairs to the pink door and opened it to find her pink room and her pink bed and she laid down and took a wonderful nap. Time to go to sleep now, Princess Allie.
The amazing part is that Julia was a baby when we started doing that story, so she didn't hear it with all of Allie's pink answers. Three years later, after a long gap from me doing it with Allie at all, I started doing it with Julia, when Allie was in her own room.
All of Julia's answers were also, Pink! Maybe it's genetic?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Updates
Pig, the cat, did not throw up her dinner last night, nor did she throw up her canned cat food breakfast this morning (beef stew, that one). No word yet on the poop.
I did make it to the vet today and I asked if was very harmful if we treated her occasionally with canned cat food. They said it was fine, as long as she doesn't start ignoring her regular cat food while she waits for the canned.
They also said canned cat food tends to be very fattening, but Pig used to be a much, much bigger cat, so we're not afraid of her gaining a little weight. And we don't give her cat treats (unlike my sisters, whose cats get probably 30% of their diets from treats!).
In another update, our daycare provider is still hospitalized but she's doing OK. She hasn't been home since they admitted her the first week of November. I told her mom (who's doing most of the work of keeping the daycare open) that this baby had better not have colic and that he'd better be the best baby ever, after all the trouble he's caused before birth.
I also think he'd better never throw up on his parents, be a brat or talk back, fight with his siblings, break any bones, drive wildly, or date girls his parents don't approve of. This baby should win the best baby title of Wisconsin and go to the finals for best baby of America, top five at least.
I did make it to the vet today and I asked if was very harmful if we treated her occasionally with canned cat food. They said it was fine, as long as she doesn't start ignoring her regular cat food while she waits for the canned.
They also said canned cat food tends to be very fattening, but Pig used to be a much, much bigger cat, so we're not afraid of her gaining a little weight. And we don't give her cat treats (unlike my sisters, whose cats get probably 30% of their diets from treats!).
In another update, our daycare provider is still hospitalized but she's doing OK. She hasn't been home since they admitted her the first week of November. I told her mom (who's doing most of the work of keeping the daycare open) that this baby had better not have colic and that he'd better be the best baby ever, after all the trouble he's caused before birth.
I also think he'd better never throw up on his parents, be a brat or talk back, fight with his siblings, break any bones, drive wildly, or date girls his parents don't approve of. This baby should win the best baby title of Wisconsin and go to the finals for best baby of America, top five at least.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Clucking all around
Ever since our cat, Pig, was diagnosed with diabetes over a year and a half ago, she's been on a prescription dry cat food that runs $38 a bag. Expensive, yes, but we elected not to put her on insulin, so we thought it was the least we could do. She seems to be doing fine with just the special diet, anyway.
We've known that we were almost out of dry food for her for ages, and our vet is open on Saturday, but nonetheless, neither Greg nor I went to the vet to get more food for her.
So tonight we went to the grocery store and bought canned cat food to get her through until tomorrow. We bought a rotisserie chicken for ourselves, so we got a chicken blend for her.
To say that we have a happy cat right now is a huge understatement. She ate and ate and licked the plate and ate some more. Her little stomach must be filled to bursting. And tonight, if she doesn't throw up from the richness of the change in diet, she's going to sleep the sleep of the blessed.
We've known that we were almost out of dry food for her for ages, and our vet is open on Saturday, but nonetheless, neither Greg nor I went to the vet to get more food for her.
So tonight we went to the grocery store and bought canned cat food to get her through until tomorrow. We bought a rotisserie chicken for ourselves, so we got a chicken blend for her.
To say that we have a happy cat right now is a huge understatement. She ate and ate and licked the plate and ate some more. Her little stomach must be filled to bursting. And tonight, if she doesn't throw up from the richness of the change in diet, she's going to sleep the sleep of the blessed.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
201
I've had this blog since June, 2003 and my last post about Julia learning to lie was number 200.
Dan at allthatcomeswithit.com, meanwhile, is at just under 200 posts and he started his blog in January of this year.
I've looked back and there were times in the past when I only blogged twice in a month. I've been doing a lot better recently, and it coincides with finally starting to feel like my work life is under control. That's somewhat under control for the first time in 2 1/2 years, by the way.
I just hope the crap doesn't hit the fan next year. I look at blogging as a way to keep family and friends informed of what our family is up to, but it's also a way to write down the little stories about our daughters that I won't remember in five years.
And don't ask me how I am with their baby books. So this, this is for them. I love you two!
Dan at allthatcomeswithit.com, meanwhile, is at just under 200 posts and he started his blog in January of this year.
I've looked back and there were times in the past when I only blogged twice in a month. I've been doing a lot better recently, and it coincides with finally starting to feel like my work life is under control. That's somewhat under control for the first time in 2 1/2 years, by the way.
I just hope the crap doesn't hit the fan next year. I look at blogging as a way to keep family and friends informed of what our family is up to, but it's also a way to write down the little stories about our daughters that I won't remember in five years.
And don't ask me how I am with their baby books. So this, this is for them. I love you two!
Friday, December 08, 2006
Wait until she's 13 1/2
This evening, I gave my children Eggo waffles for dinner. Now I don't need any eye-rolling from any of you over that. They had some protein earlier because they ate nuts when we first arrived home. Julia also had some cottage cheese (which she loves, for some reason) and Allie ate some fruit.
Greg was working late and I didn't bother to try to make something nicer for us for dinner because Greg and I needed to eat more of the amazing chicken soup/stew he made the other night and I knew the girls would never eat it.
As she ate her third Eggo, Allie managed to get a whole bunch of syrup on one pants leg. When she finished eating, she took off her pants and put them in the laundry room, so she was walking around wearing a warm shirt, undershift, panties, and socks. And she grabbed a blanket.
Julia is a naked-preference girl, so she immediately wanted to take off her pants too. She came up to me and said, Mommy, my pants are wet, can I take them off? I said, what? She said, I got water on my pants, can I take them off?
I looked suspiciously at her pants and asked where she was that she got water on them. She changed her story, and said, I spilled milk on them and they're wet, can I take them off?
I said, where are they wet, Julia? She looked down at her dry pants and said, Mommy, look, they're dirty. She bent over and pointed to an imaginary spot on the cuff. She said, Mommy, can I take them off?
I told her that her pants weren't really wet, were they, but you want to take your pants off, right? And she said yes. So I told her she could take them off.
My almost 3 and a half year old daughter has learned to lie. This is an important developmental step, right? And not an indication of trouble ahead!
Greg was working late and I didn't bother to try to make something nicer for us for dinner because Greg and I needed to eat more of the amazing chicken soup/stew he made the other night and I knew the girls would never eat it.
As she ate her third Eggo, Allie managed to get a whole bunch of syrup on one pants leg. When she finished eating, she took off her pants and put them in the laundry room, so she was walking around wearing a warm shirt, undershift, panties, and socks. And she grabbed a blanket.
Julia is a naked-preference girl, so she immediately wanted to take off her pants too. She came up to me and said, Mommy, my pants are wet, can I take them off? I said, what? She said, I got water on my pants, can I take them off?
I looked suspiciously at her pants and asked where she was that she got water on them. She changed her story, and said, I spilled milk on them and they're wet, can I take them off?
I said, where are they wet, Julia? She looked down at her dry pants and said, Mommy, look, they're dirty. She bent over and pointed to an imaginary spot on the cuff. She said, Mommy, can I take them off?
I told her that her pants weren't really wet, were they, but you want to take your pants off, right? And she said yes. So I told her she could take them off.
My almost 3 and a half year old daughter has learned to lie. This is an important developmental step, right? And not an indication of trouble ahead!
Santa -- check!
Last night, Greg and I took the girls to see Santa at one of our local malls. We like that mall because the Santa has a genuine white beard and because he seems like such a jolly, happy soul. No, really, the local newspaper profiled him last year and he seems like a wonderful man, who's been playing Santa for something like 15 years.
As we were driving, the girls were both talking to themselves, which is pretty normal. They don't usually talk to each other, but each of them will be telling stories to herself or talking to a toy or something.
Greg and I paused in our conversation and that's when we noticed that Julia was reciting, "Oatmeal, Oakmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina. Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina."
We looked at each other and started smiling and the recitation continued, "Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina." Then she threw in a new one, "Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Princess. Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Princess, Princess."
We have no idea what it meant, but because she wasn't reciting, "Kill Mommy, Kill Daddy, Kill Allie," we didn't interrupt her.
As we were driving, the girls were both talking to themselves, which is pretty normal. They don't usually talk to each other, but each of them will be telling stories to herself or talking to a toy or something.
Greg and I paused in our conversation and that's when we noticed that Julia was reciting, "Oatmeal, Oakmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina. Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina."
We looked at each other and started smiling and the recitation continued, "Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Ballerina." Then she threw in a new one, "Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Ballerina, Princess. Oatmeal, Oatmeal, Princess, Princess."
We have no idea what it meant, but because she wasn't reciting, "Kill Mommy, Kill Daddy, Kill Allie," we didn't interrupt her.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Bulbs and sobs
Greg, Allie and Julia decorated our new Christmas tree tonight while I did a mountain of dishes at the other end of the house. That's one of the things I like the most about our house--that the entire back side is our active living space. Living room, dinette, and kitchen, all on the sunny side of the house.
So I could glance over at any time and see what so-godawful-ugly-and-I-thought-we-threw-it-away-years-ago ornament that the girls were exclaiming over as pretty and placing in a prominent place on the tree.
The evening wasn't complete until both girls had brief crying spells, which wouldn't have been so bad except that Greg picked up the video camera and filmed them sobbing. Julia dropped a glass ornament and cried, and Allie was too afraid to come close to the running vacuum cleaner to pick up an ornament hook so Daddy yelled and she cried.
The tree looks great and Greg bought our first Christmas gift for someone when he ran to the store tonight. So now all we have to do to be ready for the season is buy the perfect gift for everyone we know in the world, attend numerous holiday functions (including some food preparation), take the girls to see Santa, make and decorate Christmas cookies, figure out exactly when we're traveling for the holidays, and write and send Christmas cards.
Oh, I'm sure that last one doesn't have a chance of happening. I haven't sent Christmas cards for probably four years, unfortunately. We do wish everyone a happy holiday however!
So I could glance over at any time and see what so-godawful-ugly-and-I-thought-we-threw-it-away-years-ago ornament that the girls were exclaiming over as pretty and placing in a prominent place on the tree.
The evening wasn't complete until both girls had brief crying spells, which wouldn't have been so bad except that Greg picked up the video camera and filmed them sobbing. Julia dropped a glass ornament and cried, and Allie was too afraid to come close to the running vacuum cleaner to pick up an ornament hook so Daddy yelled and she cried.
The tree looks great and Greg bought our first Christmas gift for someone when he ran to the store tonight. So now all we have to do to be ready for the season is buy the perfect gift for everyone we know in the world, attend numerous holiday functions (including some food preparation), take the girls to see Santa, make and decorate Christmas cookies, figure out exactly when we're traveling for the holidays, and write and send Christmas cards.
Oh, I'm sure that last one doesn't have a chance of happening. I haven't sent Christmas cards for probably four years, unfortunately. We do wish everyone a happy holiday however!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
No smelly
Last night, we went shopping and bought our Christmas tree. It's going to be our Christmas tree for an indefinite period of time because it's a fake tree--my first fake tree ever.
Even when I lived alone for years, I always had a small real Christmas tree. And this one doesn't smell. It makes me sad, even though I realize it's a sensible decision. At least the cat likes it just as well.
We also had a rare occurrence last night. I've been navigating my way around life for probably about 33 or so years. Back then was when my dad gave me a map for the first time and explained how they worked.
I have a good sense of direction and, for example, manuveured Greg and me all over London and Paris without even once getting us lost or even turning us in the wrong direction.
But last night, we left a parking lot and I said, hey, we can avoid going back to the main road to get to Farm & Fleet if we cut through here, and Greg said, makes sense.
Umm, I got a little messed up. 10-13 minutes worth messed up. Oh, well. I guess I'm not perfect.
No comments unless you want to tell your own "getting lost" story!
Even when I lived alone for years, I always had a small real Christmas tree. And this one doesn't smell. It makes me sad, even though I realize it's a sensible decision. At least the cat likes it just as well.
We also had a rare occurrence last night. I've been navigating my way around life for probably about 33 or so years. Back then was when my dad gave me a map for the first time and explained how they worked.
I have a good sense of direction and, for example, manuveured Greg and me all over London and Paris without even once getting us lost or even turning us in the wrong direction.
But last night, we left a parking lot and I said, hey, we can avoid going back to the main road to get to Farm & Fleet if we cut through here, and Greg said, makes sense.
Umm, I got a little messed up. 10-13 minutes worth messed up. Oh, well. I guess I'm not perfect.
No comments unless you want to tell your own "getting lost" story!
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Memories of days gone past
Both of our girls have sucked their thumbs, and Julia still does. Allie decided to stop when some new kids came to our daycare and the baby sucked it's thumb. She wanted to be the big girl and she was able to stop. She was about four years old.
What made her able to quit cold turkey was that she put away Dolly. Dolly, her soft pink fabric doll, who went everywhere with us for at least two years.
We took Dolly with us when we visited Greg's dad, Mike, in Florida when Allie was two. We had a lovely morning on a pontoon boat on the intercoastal waterway and at one point, when we were flying along, Dolly got blown overboard.
I screamed at Greg, who screamed at his dad, and we both yelled, We have to go back and get Dolly! Thank god, she floated, because we had only brought one Dolly with us (out of the five we eventually owned). We rotated them so they all wore out equally.
Likewise, Julia has her comfort object, her pink blankie. Blankie has likewise traveled everywhere with us. Unfortunately, there is only one Blankie, so she's getting pretty ragged.
I'm looking forward to the day when Julia stops sucking her thumb, but I know I'm going to be sad too. It's the last big babyish thing she still does, in her necessary quest to become a big girl.
What made her able to quit cold turkey was that she put away Dolly. Dolly, her soft pink fabric doll, who went everywhere with us for at least two years.
We took Dolly with us when we visited Greg's dad, Mike, in Florida when Allie was two. We had a lovely morning on a pontoon boat on the intercoastal waterway and at one point, when we were flying along, Dolly got blown overboard.
I screamed at Greg, who screamed at his dad, and we both yelled, We have to go back and get Dolly! Thank god, she floated, because we had only brought one Dolly with us (out of the five we eventually owned). We rotated them so they all wore out equally.
Likewise, Julia has her comfort object, her pink blankie. Blankie has likewise traveled everywhere with us. Unfortunately, there is only one Blankie, so she's getting pretty ragged.
I'm looking forward to the day when Julia stops sucking her thumb, but I know I'm going to be sad too. It's the last big babyish thing she still does, in her necessary quest to become a big girl.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Shopping is a task
I've been trying to remember when was the earliest date that I ever had all of my Christmas shopping finished.
It was probably when I was a kid, when I only shopped for my parents. Now, I'm pretty happy if I finish my shopping by about December 20th.
This year, Greg and I have scheduled a shopping day for the girls for December 14th. We're getting to the point now where we have to watch what wrapping paper we use for them.
I distinctly remember two years ago, when Allie was four, and she said, Look Mom! Santa uses the same wrapping paper that we do!
Fortunately, we're not to the point yet where we have to make extensive efforts to hide the gifts.
When that time comes, we'll just stock up on fake spiders and the gifts will be safe from all investigation. There's nothing the girls hate more.
Did I mention that I haven't even started my shopping yet this year?
It was probably when I was a kid, when I only shopped for my parents. Now, I'm pretty happy if I finish my shopping by about December 20th.
This year, Greg and I have scheduled a shopping day for the girls for December 14th. We're getting to the point now where we have to watch what wrapping paper we use for them.
I distinctly remember two years ago, when Allie was four, and she said, Look Mom! Santa uses the same wrapping paper that we do!
Fortunately, we're not to the point yet where we have to make extensive efforts to hide the gifts.
When that time comes, we'll just stock up on fake spiders and the gifts will be safe from all investigation. There's nothing the girls hate more.
Did I mention that I haven't even started my shopping yet this year?
Friday, December 01, 2006
Resilience
This morning seemed like a pretty typical morning.
I woke the girls, got them downstairs and got them apple juice, went back upstairs to get dressed, picked out clothes for them, went downstairs, and got them each something to eat (Allie's been on a peanut-butter-and-jelly-toast kick for awhile now and Julia had plain toast, so that wasn't too bad).
Then I got each daughter to change clothes, packed up Allie's backpack for school (don't forget my homework, Mom!), stacked up what I need to bring to work for the day, found Julia's mittens, and found Allie's and Julia's boots since we had a mini-blizzard today.
I don't know how, but Julia's feet seem to have grown in the last three weeks or so, because the boots that fit her last month now were too small.
I read Allie her school hot lunch menu before I started looking for the next size up boots for Julia in the back hall closet. The only lunch entree that Allie would possibly consider eating was cheese quesadillas. I told her that was available and added that dessert was chocolate pudding, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wrinkle her nose and say she wanted cold lunch.
Greg often packs her lunch but he'd already left for work. But she wrinkled her nose and I told her that if I had time, I'd pack her a lunch, otherwise she was going to have to eat the quesadilla.
It took me a few minutes to find Julia's boots, so I didn't make her a lunch, and the three of us headed off into the snow.
Four and a half hours later, I had just finished eating my own not-very-good-cafeteria-food-but-there's-no-way-I'm-going-out-in-the-snow lunch when my phone rang. The woman said she was the health aide at Fox Prairie school and I said, oh oh.
It turns out that Allie ate part of a quesadilla at lunch. She said it was burnt (which I doubt) and that the cheese was chunky (congealed, most likely). Aren't I a good mom for making her eat this?
She got over to the garbage can to throw out her garbage, bent down to pick up her dropped mitten, and she got a mouthful of stomach bile in her mouth.
She said she ran to her classroom and spit it out in the garbage can. Then she asked her teacher if she could go to the office, whereupon they called me, saying that Allie had thrown up and was warm (feverish) and could I come.
Greg and I did some brief planning and I left to get her and take her home, until Greg could finish something and drive home. Then I'd leave to go back to work for a meeting.
When I saw her, she was lying on a cot next to a garbage can , looking very flushed and miserable. Of course, she was still wearing her snow bibs.
We went home and she got on the couch and started watching TV. Greg called to say he was on his way home and about 15 minutes later, Allie said she was starving and could she have something to eat.
I gave her a banana and said we'd see how she kept it down. She ate it and about five minutes later, she asked if we could go outside and play in the snow.
Hmm.
Her daddy was not happy that he took a half day off to come home and watch her and now she wasn't ill. We talked about taking her back to school, but weren't sure they would take her (or if they did, we'd be the worst parents in the world to make her go back).
Allie had a bad lunch, and then she was better. What lesson have we learned, people?
I woke the girls, got them downstairs and got them apple juice, went back upstairs to get dressed, picked out clothes for them, went downstairs, and got them each something to eat (Allie's been on a peanut-butter-and-jelly-toast kick for awhile now and Julia had plain toast, so that wasn't too bad).
Then I got each daughter to change clothes, packed up Allie's backpack for school (don't forget my homework, Mom!), stacked up what I need to bring to work for the day, found Julia's mittens, and found Allie's and Julia's boots since we had a mini-blizzard today.
I don't know how, but Julia's feet seem to have grown in the last three weeks or so, because the boots that fit her last month now were too small.
I read Allie her school hot lunch menu before I started looking for the next size up boots for Julia in the back hall closet. The only lunch entree that Allie would possibly consider eating was cheese quesadillas. I told her that was available and added that dessert was chocolate pudding, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wrinkle her nose and say she wanted cold lunch.
Greg often packs her lunch but he'd already left for work. But she wrinkled her nose and I told her that if I had time, I'd pack her a lunch, otherwise she was going to have to eat the quesadilla.
It took me a few minutes to find Julia's boots, so I didn't make her a lunch, and the three of us headed off into the snow.
Four and a half hours later, I had just finished eating my own not-very-good-cafeteria-food-but-there's-no-way-I'm-going-out-in-the-snow lunch when my phone rang. The woman said she was the health aide at Fox Prairie school and I said, oh oh.
It turns out that Allie ate part of a quesadilla at lunch. She said it was burnt (which I doubt) and that the cheese was chunky (congealed, most likely). Aren't I a good mom for making her eat this?
She got over to the garbage can to throw out her garbage, bent down to pick up her dropped mitten, and she got a mouthful of stomach bile in her mouth.
She said she ran to her classroom and spit it out in the garbage can. Then she asked her teacher if she could go to the office, whereupon they called me, saying that Allie had thrown up and was warm (feverish) and could I come.
Greg and I did some brief planning and I left to get her and take her home, until Greg could finish something and drive home. Then I'd leave to go back to work for a meeting.
When I saw her, she was lying on a cot next to a garbage can , looking very flushed and miserable. Of course, she was still wearing her snow bibs.
We went home and she got on the couch and started watching TV. Greg called to say he was on his way home and about 15 minutes later, Allie said she was starving and could she have something to eat.
I gave her a banana and said we'd see how she kept it down. She ate it and about five minutes later, she asked if we could go outside and play in the snow.
Hmm.
Her daddy was not happy that he took a half day off to come home and watch her and now she wasn't ill. We talked about taking her back to school, but weren't sure they would take her (or if they did, we'd be the worst parents in the world to make her go back).
Allie had a bad lunch, and then she was better. What lesson have we learned, people?
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Children
Last night, I watched a TV show about a family in Arkansas with 16 children. The mom and dad are about my age, but they married when the dad was 19 and the mom was 17.
They've had two sets of twins, so there have been 14 pregnancies, but the mom has still been pregnant for an entire decade. They're the Duggars, if you're interested in Googling.
Tonight, Allie and Julia were well-behaved at a book fair at Allie's school, OK at a restaurant, and naughty after that because they wouldn't stop fighting over a stuffed mouse that Allie got in a school kit today.
In their bath later, Allie and Julia were completely annoying. They fought over a new bar of soap. They complained about who got to get out of the bathtub first. Julia cried about having her hair partially blow-dried. Allie was scared to go in her room to get her pajamas because the light wasn't on.
They kept complaining about the mouse, asking for it repeatedly even after Greg put the mouse in timeout, and frankly, making noise by either asking for it or yelling at their sibling about it while I was trying to listen to my favorite current show, House.
Last night, I felt sorry for the Duggar kids, because they're never going to have the opportunity for the kind of one-on-one attention and love that I can give my two kids.
Tonight, I'm glad I just have two. Grr.
They've had two sets of twins, so there have been 14 pregnancies, but the mom has still been pregnant for an entire decade. They're the Duggars, if you're interested in Googling.
Tonight, Allie and Julia were well-behaved at a book fair at Allie's school, OK at a restaurant, and naughty after that because they wouldn't stop fighting over a stuffed mouse that Allie got in a school kit today.
In their bath later, Allie and Julia were completely annoying. They fought over a new bar of soap. They complained about who got to get out of the bathtub first. Julia cried about having her hair partially blow-dried. Allie was scared to go in her room to get her pajamas because the light wasn't on.
They kept complaining about the mouse, asking for it repeatedly even after Greg put the mouse in timeout, and frankly, making noise by either asking for it or yelling at their sibling about it while I was trying to listen to my favorite current show, House.
Last night, I felt sorry for the Duggar kids, because they're never going to have the opportunity for the kind of one-on-one attention and love that I can give my two kids.
Tonight, I'm glad I just have two. Grr.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Interlude
I'm sitting on the couch with my work laptop because in a minute, I'm going to work on some interview questions I need for tomorrow.
Greg went downstairs with the girls to play with his new GameCube, but just now, Julia came back up. She sat down next to me and asked if I would get Elmo on my computer.
I told her I was sorry, but that Mommy has to do some work, so I can't get Elmo right now. I asked her if she wanted to watch TV and she said, no, I want to watch you work.
So she's sitting snuggled up next to me, with her head on my shoulder, watching me type.
She's a sweetie.
I give it three minutes, max.
Tick, tick, tick.
OK, she lasted about 1 1/2 minutes. It was still sweet.
Greg went downstairs with the girls to play with his new GameCube, but just now, Julia came back up. She sat down next to me and asked if I would get Elmo on my computer.
I told her I was sorry, but that Mommy has to do some work, so I can't get Elmo right now. I asked her if she wanted to watch TV and she said, no, I want to watch you work.
So she's sitting snuggled up next to me, with her head on my shoulder, watching me type.
She's a sweetie.
I give it three minutes, max.
Tick, tick, tick.
OK, she lasted about 1 1/2 minutes. It was still sweet.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
'Tis the season
It was a gloomy, gray, initially foggy day today. Damp, unpleasant, but pretty dang warm--almost 60 degrees.
I did a little shopping this afternoon (not for Christmas presents, though) and as I drove home, I saw three different people putting out their Christmas lights.
For probably the last five years, our Christmas lights have been put out, either by me or by Greg, in a cold wind (with freezing hands trying to bend stiff wiring) because we waited too long into December.
It's obligatory in our neighborhood to do something Christmas-light-wise. We normally do the minimum of something on the railings of our porch and decline to compete with the obsessive people on every other block.
But today I decided, OK, we don't have to turn the lights on yet (since it's still November), but hey, I'm going to put out the Christmas lights.
And the kind of Christmas lights I like, not the ones we've been doing the last few years that Greg likes--he likes big, globby glass bulbs like we used to have on our Christmas trees 30 years ago.
So Allie and I went outside with little white lights and did part of the porch railing. Then we came in and got some little multi-colored lights and added those too. Both light strands are programmable, so they flash and sparkle and travel like crazy.
I was informed by Allie that the lights look awesomely cool and I think they look great. Much flashier than normal, with minimal work and in warm weather. As Jaime Oliver, the Naked Chef, would say, Easy peasy.
Except that Greg hates them. He thinks we threw them up in a mess and he doesn't like the small lights. I think Greg is a scrooge. He should be grateful he isn't going to be outside freezing his ass off in three weeks.
I'm full of righteous indignation. If I knew how to do it, I'd post a picture and take votes on how people think our lights look. Will my husband take up this challenge?
I did a little shopping this afternoon (not for Christmas presents, though) and as I drove home, I saw three different people putting out their Christmas lights.
For probably the last five years, our Christmas lights have been put out, either by me or by Greg, in a cold wind (with freezing hands trying to bend stiff wiring) because we waited too long into December.
It's obligatory in our neighborhood to do something Christmas-light-wise. We normally do the minimum of something on the railings of our porch and decline to compete with the obsessive people on every other block.
But today I decided, OK, we don't have to turn the lights on yet (since it's still November), but hey, I'm going to put out the Christmas lights.
And the kind of Christmas lights I like, not the ones we've been doing the last few years that Greg likes--he likes big, globby glass bulbs like we used to have on our Christmas trees 30 years ago.
So Allie and I went outside with little white lights and did part of the porch railing. Then we came in and got some little multi-colored lights and added those too. Both light strands are programmable, so they flash and sparkle and travel like crazy.
I was informed by Allie that the lights look awesomely cool and I think they look great. Much flashier than normal, with minimal work and in warm weather. As Jaime Oliver, the Naked Chef, would say, Easy peasy.
Except that Greg hates them. He thinks we threw them up in a mess and he doesn't like the small lights. I think Greg is a scrooge. He should be grateful he isn't going to be outside freezing his ass off in three weeks.
I'm full of righteous indignation. If I knew how to do it, I'd post a picture and take votes on how people think our lights look. Will my husband take up this challenge?
Saturday, November 25, 2006
I want, I want
Since August, Julia has been a coveting machine. As soon as her July 30 birthday was over, it seemed, she began saying that she wanted every single toy shown on television commercials for her birthday.
We would mostly ignore her, or we'd tell her that her birthday was over. At some point, we told her that if she wanted something, it would have to be for Christmas.
So for the last three months already, every single time there's any kind of toy commercial on (and especially if it's for something pink and plastic), Julia says, "I'm getting that for Christmas."
Do you have any idea how many toy commercials are on every day? Even on the channels that aren't aimed at kids, there are a lot. I'm guessing about six per hour, and it's ramping up now that Christmas actually is coming.
I've taken to telling her, "No, Julia, you're not getting that." She completely ignores me.
Yesterday Allie held a toy out of her reach and told Julia she could have it if she would stop saying, "T'm getting that for Christmas." It didn't work, needless to say.
Before too long, Christmas will be over, Allie's birthday will pass, and Julia can adjust her mantra to, "I'm getting that for my birthday." I, personally, can wait. This has to be a phase, right?
We would mostly ignore her, or we'd tell her that her birthday was over. At some point, we told her that if she wanted something, it would have to be for Christmas.
So for the last three months already, every single time there's any kind of toy commercial on (and especially if it's for something pink and plastic), Julia says, "I'm getting that for Christmas."
Do you have any idea how many toy commercials are on every day? Even on the channels that aren't aimed at kids, there are a lot. I'm guessing about six per hour, and it's ramping up now that Christmas actually is coming.
I've taken to telling her, "No, Julia, you're not getting that." She completely ignores me.
Yesterday Allie held a toy out of her reach and told Julia she could have it if she would stop saying, "T'm getting that for Christmas." It didn't work, needless to say.
Before too long, Christmas will be over, Allie's birthday will pass, and Julia can adjust her mantra to, "I'm getting that for my birthday." I, personally, can wait. This has to be a phase, right?
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thank god for Tupperware
Well, the Thanksgiving holiday is over and my refrigerator may never be the same.
It's been stuffed to the gills for so many days that it's tough to see any of the shelves, even after the big meals are over. We have a plethora of plastic leftover containers stacked up and up.
The only item on the menu that didn't really turn out was the stuffing. It baked a little too long and got dry.
But the turkey and the ham and the carrots and the pies, etcetera etcetera were very good. The company was lovely, even though my husband lost $12 or so playing cards. You're welcome, Dad. Enjoy your newfound wealth.
And the best part is that even though it really, really seems like Sunday, it's only Friday night. Yay!
Happy extended weekend.
It's been stuffed to the gills for so many days that it's tough to see any of the shelves, even after the big meals are over. We have a plethora of plastic leftover containers stacked up and up.
The only item on the menu that didn't really turn out was the stuffing. It baked a little too long and got dry.
But the turkey and the ham and the carrots and the pies, etcetera etcetera were very good. The company was lovely, even though my husband lost $12 or so playing cards. You're welcome, Dad. Enjoy your newfound wealth.
And the best part is that even though it really, really seems like Sunday, it's only Friday night. Yay!
Happy extended weekend.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Ready, set . . .
It's almost Thanksgiving--the eating holiday!
Greg and I both took the afternoon off today, me to prepare baked goods and Greg to get in another ride on his motorcycle. We're having unseasonably warm temperatures, so he's getting his ass out there before the snow flies again.
I made homemade pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and Bavarian apple torte. Mmmmmmmm.
I love pumpkin pie with whipped cream and I love the apple torte, which is just a butter crust, cream cheese with sugar/vanilla/egg, and then cinnamon apples on top.
They aren't family recipes, so I'm not going to add them to Dan's contest, but they are good.
My parents are already here for the holiday and my sister Claudette and brother-in-law Mike are coming this evening and that's all we're having for guests. I asked my mom if she thought it would be OK if I had a little slice of pie, since it's just us family.
Pardon my french, but we're going to have a shitload of food left over. Besides the baked goods, Greg is planning:
deviled eggs
deep-fried turkey
ham
mashed potatoes
sweet potatoes with bananas (that's a new recipe, we'll see how it comes out)
stuffing
scalloped corn
glazed carrots
coleslaw
baked beans
rolls
We're planning to eat tomorrow about 1 p.m. If you don't have anywhere to be, feel free to stop by for the gorging. If we run short of pie, I'll arm-wrestle you for the last piece.
Greg and I both took the afternoon off today, me to prepare baked goods and Greg to get in another ride on his motorcycle. We're having unseasonably warm temperatures, so he's getting his ass out there before the snow flies again.
I made homemade pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and Bavarian apple torte. Mmmmmmmm.
I love pumpkin pie with whipped cream and I love the apple torte, which is just a butter crust, cream cheese with sugar/vanilla/egg, and then cinnamon apples on top.
They aren't family recipes, so I'm not going to add them to Dan's contest, but they are good.
My parents are already here for the holiday and my sister Claudette and brother-in-law Mike are coming this evening and that's all we're having for guests. I asked my mom if she thought it would be OK if I had a little slice of pie, since it's just us family.
Pardon my french, but we're going to have a shitload of food left over. Besides the baked goods, Greg is planning:
deviled eggs
deep-fried turkey
ham
mashed potatoes
sweet potatoes with bananas (that's a new recipe, we'll see how it comes out)
stuffing
scalloped corn
glazed carrots
coleslaw
baked beans
rolls
We're planning to eat tomorrow about 1 p.m. If you don't have anywhere to be, feel free to stop by for the gorging. If we run short of pie, I'll arm-wrestle you for the last piece.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
He's the man
I've written before about how I love James Bond movies, so it was really cool that Greg and I (like other people that Greg links to) were able to see the new Bond movie (for us, on Sunday night).
It was excellent. Long! Things kept moving, though, so it was very good. We were OK that we didn't get home to put the girls to bed as we had thought, because we were off having an adult mini-adventure, thank you very much. We very rarely get to go to adult movies.
I loved the first chase sequence. I liked it when he got the best of M. I liked it when he actually deferred jumping into bed with a woman to chase a clue, instead of forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. The airport scenes were cool.
OK, I really liked it. Greg did too, though it certainly showed Daniel Craig's torso more than it did any half-naked women.
Other than Sean Connery, I have a new favorite Bond. Not that any of the others were really a competition to Sean, but Daniel is. I can't wait for the next one!
It was excellent. Long! Things kept moving, though, so it was very good. We were OK that we didn't get home to put the girls to bed as we had thought, because we were off having an adult mini-adventure, thank you very much. We very rarely get to go to adult movies.
I loved the first chase sequence. I liked it when he got the best of M. I liked it when he actually deferred jumping into bed with a woman to chase a clue, instead of forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. The airport scenes were cool.
OK, I really liked it. Greg did too, though it certainly showed Daniel Craig's torso more than it did any half-naked women.
Other than Sean Connery, I have a new favorite Bond. Not that any of the others were really a competition to Sean, but Daniel is. I can't wait for the next one!
Monday, November 20, 2006
Paying my dues
When I first graduated from college, I was meticulous about paying bills. Actually, I've always been meticulous about money.
I remember getting my first savings account when I was 9 and then most Fridays, when my parents did their banking (remember when you went to the bank every Friday to do your banking for the week?), I would make $1 and $3 deposits.
I always saved more than I spent and when I started working at 16, I saved even more. Later, my parents paid my tuition for college, but I had a work-study job and I never asked them for any additional money for living expenses.
By the time I graduated, I had a rather large chunk of student loans to pay off and I steadily worked away at them until I was debt free. Then I bought my first new car and my condo.
So, you can see, pretty fiscally responsible.
So now I'm 41 and I put off paying bills like nobody's business. I'm lucky if I can make myself sit down and do it twice per month.
Oh, I'm never late on anything. I make sure I check due dates and write the checks I need to write (no, I don't do online banking), but balancing all those direct deposits, ATM withdrawals, and grocery store checks written just seems like such a chore.
And it is. Tonight, I sorted through a huge stack of mail, threw out a ton of papers that Allie produced at school, opened some bills, sorted about six or seven EFT direct deposit forms, recorded two and a half pages of checks written earlier, and paid about five bills. It took me about an hour and a half.
Who wants to do that. Do you have a bad financial habit? Are you one of those people who just believes the balance the bank gives you?
Do you think the bank could just be screwing us all? That is, in addition to the remarkable fees they charge nowadays . . .
I remember getting my first savings account when I was 9 and then most Fridays, when my parents did their banking (remember when you went to the bank every Friday to do your banking for the week?), I would make $1 and $3 deposits.
I always saved more than I spent and when I started working at 16, I saved even more. Later, my parents paid my tuition for college, but I had a work-study job and I never asked them for any additional money for living expenses.
By the time I graduated, I had a rather large chunk of student loans to pay off and I steadily worked away at them until I was debt free. Then I bought my first new car and my condo.
So, you can see, pretty fiscally responsible.
So now I'm 41 and I put off paying bills like nobody's business. I'm lucky if I can make myself sit down and do it twice per month.
Oh, I'm never late on anything. I make sure I check due dates and write the checks I need to write (no, I don't do online banking), but balancing all those direct deposits, ATM withdrawals, and grocery store checks written just seems like such a chore.
And it is. Tonight, I sorted through a huge stack of mail, threw out a ton of papers that Allie produced at school, opened some bills, sorted about six or seven EFT direct deposit forms, recorded two and a half pages of checks written earlier, and paid about five bills. It took me about an hour and a half.
Who wants to do that. Do you have a bad financial habit? Are you one of those people who just believes the balance the bank gives you?
Do you think the bank could just be screwing us all? That is, in addition to the remarkable fees they charge nowadays . . .
Friday, November 17, 2006
Stocking Up
Greg has been slowly purchasing the ingredients for our Thanksgiving feast next week. We don't have an especially huge refrigerator, so one thing he's delayed buying so far is the actual star of the show, Mr. Turkey.
In the past, my husband has baked turkeys, brined and baked turkeys, and deep-fried turkeys. This year, just to change things up, he's going to brine and deep-fry.
I guess the latest trend is actually to smoke a turkey or make one on the grill (which has the advantage of freeing up oven space), but we're going to stick with something more tried and true.
We're only having four additional people for dinner. Since he also bought a ham, you had better all bring your appetites.
Next week, I'm starting on the pies!
In the past, my husband has baked turkeys, brined and baked turkeys, and deep-fried turkeys. This year, just to change things up, he's going to brine and deep-fry.
I guess the latest trend is actually to smoke a turkey or make one on the grill (which has the advantage of freeing up oven space), but we're going to stick with something more tried and true.
We're only having four additional people for dinner. Since he also bought a ham, you had better all bring your appetites.
Next week, I'm starting on the pies!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Questioning
In the mail today, we got a questionnaire to complete from the local school district. Julia is now eligible for early childhood education, if she isn't meeting certain developmental goals.
Among many other things, we had to figure out if Julia knew how to count to three or five, for example (Julia counted to eleven, then said firteen [13] then sisteen [16]). We had to see if she knew her colors. We asked her to jump with both feet. We asked questions about whether something was over or under. We asked "what do you do with an apple" and "are you a boy or a girl" and "what's your name" and "how old are you"?
She did great. I don't think, based on our responses, that we'll be getting a call from the school district. Julia's pretty normal, and that's a wonderful thing.
About three weeks ago, we went to Allie's school for a parent-teacher conference. She's doing just fine too. She's having a little trouble with reversing the order of her letters and numbers occasionally, which I think is at least partially due to being a lefty. Her teacher says it's not necessarily that and that it's perfectly normal.
I remember when my parents went to parent-teacher conferences for me. Even though I was a good student, it was always a little nerve-wracking knowing they were talking to my teacher. I can't imagine what those conferences were like for the parents of the "BAD KIDS."
Let's hope I never have to find out!
Among many other things, we had to figure out if Julia knew how to count to three or five, for example (Julia counted to eleven, then said firteen [13] then sisteen [16]). We had to see if she knew her colors. We asked her to jump with both feet. We asked questions about whether something was over or under. We asked "what do you do with an apple" and "are you a boy or a girl" and "what's your name" and "how old are you"?
She did great. I don't think, based on our responses, that we'll be getting a call from the school district. Julia's pretty normal, and that's a wonderful thing.
About three weeks ago, we went to Allie's school for a parent-teacher conference. She's doing just fine too. She's having a little trouble with reversing the order of her letters and numbers occasionally, which I think is at least partially due to being a lefty. Her teacher says it's not necessarily that and that it's perfectly normal.
I remember when my parents went to parent-teacher conferences for me. Even though I was a good student, it was always a little nerve-wracking knowing they were talking to my teacher. I can't imagine what those conferences were like for the parents of the "BAD KIDS."
Let's hope I never have to find out!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
New worries
Every work day, Julia goes to a small family daycare just up the hill from our house. Allie gets off the bus after school and walks to the same daycare. Then Daddy comes by about an hour and a half later and picks them both up at once. We know they get wonderful care there and it's wonderfully convenient.
Our daycare provider, who we love and needless to say our children love, is pregnant. She's been having complications for awhile (though you wouldn't have know it to see her or talk to her) and things worsened last week. She went to her OB/GYN for a check and boom, they admitted her to the hospital for observation.
We thought it was going to be overnight, then it was going to be two nights, and we found out at the end of last week that she's likely going to be hospitalized until she has the baby. She's only at 26 weeks, so she would normally have 14 weeks to go yet.
We're scared and nervous for her, for her unborn child, her husband, her other two kids, the rest of her family, and, of course, for ourselves. Our family isn't religious, but hers is, so for her sake I'm saying a prayer that she, her baby, and everyone else in her family is going to come through this OK.
Us, well . . . It's so absolutely godawful to be thinking about ourselves in this situation, but of course we can't help it. We're worried about how well things are going to work out with the daycare staying open (right now, the plan is for various relatives of hers to help out at least through the end of the year).
We're worried about Julia adjusting to not seeing her (though of course, her own children will have things so much worse that it seems petty to mention it), and about Julia adjusting to her new caretakers (though I'm sure they're all wonderful people and we already know some of them).
We're worried about where Allie will go if the daycare has to close, since we can find all-day daycare for Julia somewhere if necessary, but figuring out where Allie goes when she gets off the bus is a little more complicated.
And I'm concerned most of all about how she's going to make it through this period. Laying in a bed in a hospital, alone for a good part of the time, worrying about everything and everyone. And unable to make things change.
We have options to handle our fears. She doesn't have a whole lot. So please, say a prayer for her and her family to get through this OK.
Our daycare provider, who we love and needless to say our children love, is pregnant. She's been having complications for awhile (though you wouldn't have know it to see her or talk to her) and things worsened last week. She went to her OB/GYN for a check and boom, they admitted her to the hospital for observation.
We thought it was going to be overnight, then it was going to be two nights, and we found out at the end of last week that she's likely going to be hospitalized until she has the baby. She's only at 26 weeks, so she would normally have 14 weeks to go yet.
We're scared and nervous for her, for her unborn child, her husband, her other two kids, the rest of her family, and, of course, for ourselves. Our family isn't religious, but hers is, so for her sake I'm saying a prayer that she, her baby, and everyone else in her family is going to come through this OK.
Us, well . . . It's so absolutely godawful to be thinking about ourselves in this situation, but of course we can't help it. We're worried about how well things are going to work out with the daycare staying open (right now, the plan is for various relatives of hers to help out at least through the end of the year).
We're worried about Julia adjusting to not seeing her (though of course, her own children will have things so much worse that it seems petty to mention it), and about Julia adjusting to her new caretakers (though I'm sure they're all wonderful people and we already know some of them).
We're worried about where Allie will go if the daycare has to close, since we can find all-day daycare for Julia somewhere if necessary, but figuring out where Allie goes when she gets off the bus is a little more complicated.
And I'm concerned most of all about how she's going to make it through this period. Laying in a bed in a hospital, alone for a good part of the time, worrying about everything and everyone. And unable to make things change.
We have options to handle our fears. She doesn't have a whole lot. So please, say a prayer for her and her family to get through this OK.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Overload
There are three people on three different computers in our house right now.
Greg is on his laptop on the couch. Allie is on our desktop in her room. I'm on our other desktop in our bedroom.
Greg is playing a word game. Allie is playing a drawing game. I was cruising the internet.
Julia is napping, like a good three-year-old. If she wakes up, however, she can have this computer to play with Elmo.
I have my work laptop home, so I can keep cruising the net if I want to. I don't think I want to.
Greg is on his laptop on the couch. Allie is on our desktop in her room. I'm on our other desktop in our bedroom.
Greg is playing a word game. Allie is playing a drawing game. I was cruising the internet.
Julia is napping, like a good three-year-old. If she wakes up, however, she can have this computer to play with Elmo.
I have my work laptop home, so I can keep cruising the net if I want to. I don't think I want to.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Winter wonderland
We're in the midst of our first snowstorm of the autumn. All over the state (and region, really), cars are sliding into ditches and some people are getting hurt. As an adult, snowstorms cause me to (at least mildly) worry about my family and friends.
It got me thinking about being a kid. When I was little, it seemed to snow a lot more and a lot more often.
I remember the snowbanks in the front yard of the house we lived in at the time and how they were always enormous. Dad and my sister Pam would get out there and shovel (Pam still likes to shovel, for some strange reason) and they'd throw the snow up higher and higher.
Then my sisters and I and all the kids of the neighborhood would build elaborate snow forts, complete the piles of snowballs for the next snowball fight, and places to sit, and windows, if we could manage it. I hated getting a snowball in the face more than anything.
I remember going ice skating at the rink next to my grade school. We couldn't wait for the city to brush the new snow off the rink with a big circular brush attached to the front of a jeep.
I also remember being on the rink one night when they were brushing it and having to leap for our lives into a snowbank to avoid getting run over. We were way too close, considering he wouldn't have been able to stop on the ice.
The city would turn the back entrance of my school (the entrance we used every morning and for recess) into a warming house for the rink, so there'd be thick black mats protecting the floors for months at a time.
I remember going out to play with rough wool snow pants on, and coming in with the cuffs and knees so crusted with snow that they would hardly bend. My pants and my sisters' pants would drip and be soaked for ages, drying in the back hallway, next to our mittens and hats.
I started wearing glasses in the third grade, and I remember being outside for so long that when I came in, it didn't seem like my glasses were ever going to thaw out so I could see again.
And since we didn't have money for a snowblower, I remember being resentful of people who did. They had perfect edges where they'd cleared their sidewalks, so we'd walk along to school and purposely kick our feet to knock down the edges. Not enough so they'd have to shovel or anything, but enough so their sidewalk didn't look nicer than my family's.
And then we'd wait for the next snowstorm. With anticipation, instead of worry. But my kids have inherited that mood of anticipation from me. Tomorrow, maybe we'll make a snowman together. And enjoy the beginning of winter.
It got me thinking about being a kid. When I was little, it seemed to snow a lot more and a lot more often.
I remember the snowbanks in the front yard of the house we lived in at the time and how they were always enormous. Dad and my sister Pam would get out there and shovel (Pam still likes to shovel, for some strange reason) and they'd throw the snow up higher and higher.
Then my sisters and I and all the kids of the neighborhood would build elaborate snow forts, complete the piles of snowballs for the next snowball fight, and places to sit, and windows, if we could manage it. I hated getting a snowball in the face more than anything.
I remember going ice skating at the rink next to my grade school. We couldn't wait for the city to brush the new snow off the rink with a big circular brush attached to the front of a jeep.
I also remember being on the rink one night when they were brushing it and having to leap for our lives into a snowbank to avoid getting run over. We were way too close, considering he wouldn't have been able to stop on the ice.
The city would turn the back entrance of my school (the entrance we used every morning and for recess) into a warming house for the rink, so there'd be thick black mats protecting the floors for months at a time.
I remember going out to play with rough wool snow pants on, and coming in with the cuffs and knees so crusted with snow that they would hardly bend. My pants and my sisters' pants would drip and be soaked for ages, drying in the back hallway, next to our mittens and hats.
I started wearing glasses in the third grade, and I remember being outside for so long that when I came in, it didn't seem like my glasses were ever going to thaw out so I could see again.
And since we didn't have money for a snowblower, I remember being resentful of people who did. They had perfect edges where they'd cleared their sidewalks, so we'd walk along to school and purposely kick our feet to knock down the edges. Not enough so they'd have to shovel or anything, but enough so their sidewalk didn't look nicer than my family's.
And then we'd wait for the next snowstorm. With anticipation, instead of worry. But my kids have inherited that mood of anticipation from me. Tomorrow, maybe we'll make a snowman together. And enjoy the beginning of winter.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Paul Harvey
And now, the rest of the story of last Saturday.
Greg's alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. I tried (unsuccessfully) to go back to sleep until he left the house at 5:15. He kissed the girls before he left, so at 5:20, Allie called me to her room, sobbing because she was sad that Daddy left.
At 5:25, after I got her calmed down, Greg called to say he was on the highway with a flat tire and needed us to come with the other car. I woke up Julia from a sound sleep, told Allie to put on some pants, and started downstairs, only to realize that I'd forgotten to put pants on.
After a brief delay, we got on our winter coats and buckled up and drove out to where Greg was stuck. Greg and I scooped up the girls and put them in their carseats in the other car (at least his car was warm) and Greg had to leave to catch his flight. He was scheduled to leave at 6:50 and it was already 5:45 (and he had a good 20 minutes more to drive to the airport).
The three of us girls sat on the side of the state highway until 6:05 or so, talking about why we were awake and what was going to happen when the tow truck driver Daddy had called showed up. It's still dark at that time on cloudy mornings and Greg doesn't have a flashlight in his car. I asked the tow truck driver if he could just put on our spare tire (or as the girls took to calling it, the baby tire), rather than tow us. Thank goodness, in a five-year-old car, it wasn't flat too.
Another 15 minutes and $52.50 later, we drove home. Naturally, at this point, having the girls go back to sleep, as I would gladly have done, was out of the question. So we stayed awake and mid-morning, I started trying to find a place to get four new tires put on (we should have replaced these tires months ago).
Two places said they were first come, first served for appointments and one said they were already backed up four hours. Then I called Tires Plus and asked if they made appointments and the guy said, sure, come in at noon. I confirmed that putting on the tires would take about an hour. Perfect!
We drove up to Madison, a trip of about 20-25 minutes normally, most of which is on a two-lane highway. The tow truck driver had warned me not to drive on the compact spare tire at any faster than 50 miles per hour, so we drove just a little under 50. Considering weekends are supposed to be relaxing for most people, there are a lot of really pissed off people on the roads on Saturday mornings. I kept looking in the rear view mirror to see how many cars were lined up behind me. When a bunch finally passed, I even got honked at and motioned to. Loads of fun.
So we showed up at noon at Tires Plus and registered. Then we walked a block and a half to a restaurant for lunch (in the cold wind). Then we walked back and Julia fell and skinned her knee. Then she wouldn't walk anymore. Did I mention that she weighs 30 lbs. now and she feels like more in a winter coat, hat, and shoes that light up?
We got back to Tires Plus and our car was back in the same stall in the parking lot. Correction, it was in the same stall in the parking lot, and hadn't been moved, because the baby tire was still on the front wheel.
I asked at the desk if they were going to start on our car anytime soon and the desk person said, I don't know what you were told but our computer shows we expect to finish your car about 2:15. It was about 1:10. I said, are you going to bring it into a service bay anytime soon. He said, yours will be the next car serviced, as soon as a bay becomes available.
I said, are you close to being finished on any of the cars currently in the bays. He said, we'll get to it as soon as possible (in other words, no). I said, we're leaving. He apologized. I said, we're leaving. He had to take the charge off my credit card and we were on our way.
I was not going to drive home with that tire. I was not going to try to go somewhere else. Julia and Allie were both wiped out at this point from waking so early and it's not fun to sit in a stinky (rubber scented) dirty tire shop for hours with a football game on the TV and try to entertain two crabby, tired girls.
We drove to the airport, which was conveniently only about two miles away. When we got there, I realized that though I'd spoken to Greg during his layover, I hadn't asked where he'd parked my car. There's a pretty good sized ramp at this airport, plus long-term surface parking.
Assuming that Greg would go for the more expensive ramp parking because his company is paying for it, we headed in there. I immediately realized that we were going to be very lucky to find our car quickly. And our luck finally changed. We found it in just a couple of minutes and a couple of levels (nice spot, honey!).
I pulled the car out, parked the other car in the same spot, transferred the girls, transferred his intake ticket for the ramp, wrote a quick welcome home note, and we left.
And we managed to do it within 15 minutes, so there was no charge for being in the long-term parking ramp (shades of Fargo, averted).
Greg will be home on Thursday and he'll have to drive my car to work on Friday while I take one more trip to my work with the compact spare. Then Saturday, when we have two cars and can leave one and GO AWAY, SO WHO CARES HOW LONG IT TAKES YOU TO FIX IT, we'll get it fixed.
I am quite convinced we should have done this ages ago. Consider me reformed when it comes to tire maintenance.
The day ended well. The girls both took naps in the afternoon, Julia a long one and Allie a short one. We went to a McDonald's playland in the evening and they both had a blast. And at the end of the day, I have a car with four good tires (at least at the moment).
How was your weekend?
Greg's alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. I tried (unsuccessfully) to go back to sleep until he left the house at 5:15. He kissed the girls before he left, so at 5:20, Allie called me to her room, sobbing because she was sad that Daddy left.
At 5:25, after I got her calmed down, Greg called to say he was on the highway with a flat tire and needed us to come with the other car. I woke up Julia from a sound sleep, told Allie to put on some pants, and started downstairs, only to realize that I'd forgotten to put pants on.
After a brief delay, we got on our winter coats and buckled up and drove out to where Greg was stuck. Greg and I scooped up the girls and put them in their carseats in the other car (at least his car was warm) and Greg had to leave to catch his flight. He was scheduled to leave at 6:50 and it was already 5:45 (and he had a good 20 minutes more to drive to the airport).
The three of us girls sat on the side of the state highway until 6:05 or so, talking about why we were awake and what was going to happen when the tow truck driver Daddy had called showed up. It's still dark at that time on cloudy mornings and Greg doesn't have a flashlight in his car. I asked the tow truck driver if he could just put on our spare tire (or as the girls took to calling it, the baby tire), rather than tow us. Thank goodness, in a five-year-old car, it wasn't flat too.
Another 15 minutes and $52.50 later, we drove home. Naturally, at this point, having the girls go back to sleep, as I would gladly have done, was out of the question. So we stayed awake and mid-morning, I started trying to find a place to get four new tires put on (we should have replaced these tires months ago).
Two places said they were first come, first served for appointments and one said they were already backed up four hours. Then I called Tires Plus and asked if they made appointments and the guy said, sure, come in at noon. I confirmed that putting on the tires would take about an hour. Perfect!
We drove up to Madison, a trip of about 20-25 minutes normally, most of which is on a two-lane highway. The tow truck driver had warned me not to drive on the compact spare tire at any faster than 50 miles per hour, so we drove just a little under 50. Considering weekends are supposed to be relaxing for most people, there are a lot of really pissed off people on the roads on Saturday mornings. I kept looking in the rear view mirror to see how many cars were lined up behind me. When a bunch finally passed, I even got honked at and motioned to. Loads of fun.
So we showed up at noon at Tires Plus and registered. Then we walked a block and a half to a restaurant for lunch (in the cold wind). Then we walked back and Julia fell and skinned her knee. Then she wouldn't walk anymore. Did I mention that she weighs 30 lbs. now and she feels like more in a winter coat, hat, and shoes that light up?
We got back to Tires Plus and our car was back in the same stall in the parking lot. Correction, it was in the same stall in the parking lot, and hadn't been moved, because the baby tire was still on the front wheel.
I asked at the desk if they were going to start on our car anytime soon and the desk person said, I don't know what you were told but our computer shows we expect to finish your car about 2:15. It was about 1:10. I said, are you going to bring it into a service bay anytime soon. He said, yours will be the next car serviced, as soon as a bay becomes available.
I said, are you close to being finished on any of the cars currently in the bays. He said, we'll get to it as soon as possible (in other words, no). I said, we're leaving. He apologized. I said, we're leaving. He had to take the charge off my credit card and we were on our way.
I was not going to drive home with that tire. I was not going to try to go somewhere else. Julia and Allie were both wiped out at this point from waking so early and it's not fun to sit in a stinky (rubber scented) dirty tire shop for hours with a football game on the TV and try to entertain two crabby, tired girls.
We drove to the airport, which was conveniently only about two miles away. When we got there, I realized that though I'd spoken to Greg during his layover, I hadn't asked where he'd parked my car. There's a pretty good sized ramp at this airport, plus long-term surface parking.
Assuming that Greg would go for the more expensive ramp parking because his company is paying for it, we headed in there. I immediately realized that we were going to be very lucky to find our car quickly. And our luck finally changed. We found it in just a couple of minutes and a couple of levels (nice spot, honey!).
I pulled the car out, parked the other car in the same spot, transferred the girls, transferred his intake ticket for the ramp, wrote a quick welcome home note, and we left.
And we managed to do it within 15 minutes, so there was no charge for being in the long-term parking ramp (shades of Fargo, averted).
Greg will be home on Thursday and he'll have to drive my car to work on Friday while I take one more trip to my work with the compact spare. Then Saturday, when we have two cars and can leave one and GO AWAY, SO WHO CARES HOW LONG IT TAKES YOU TO FIX IT, we'll get it fixed.
I am quite convinced we should have done this ages ago. Consider me reformed when it comes to tire maintenance.
The day ended well. The girls both took naps in the afternoon, Julia a long one and Allie a short one. We went to a McDonald's playland in the evening and they both had a blast. And at the end of the day, I have a car with four good tires (at least at the moment).
How was your weekend?
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
324
That's how many trick-or-treaters (or as my family calls them, halloweenies) that we had visit our house last night in two hours.
That's a pretty good year. I don't think it's a record. The second year we lived in our house, the weather was warm and kids were out for a long time, even young ones. That year I think we topped 350.
Most people I've talked to say that they get anywhere from 30-50 kids. Why do we get so many more? We live on the corner of a pretty busy street and we live on a cul de sac.
Plus Greg puts some effort into our decorations. This year, we had the traditional full-size mummy man, fog machines, black lightbulbs, and strobe lights. Yes, plural strobe lights. I now have epilepsy.
Trick-or-treating started at 6:00 and Greg started off around the neighborhood with the girls. I sat in a lawn chair on the new front porch and waited (we never bother to sit inside or you'd just have the front door open all night).
I had two kids come up. The little ones are pretty freaked out by the mummy, so I'd call, "It's OK. We're nice! It's just pretend." Then I waited and looked down the street to see who else was coming.
There was a group of kids coming out of the house across the street and some came around the corner and some appeared from up the hill and within 3 minutes, I had 25 or so kids. Then in another 5 minutes, I was already up to 50 kids. Yes, we keep track. It's a tradition in my family.
We made it most of the way through the 2 hours before we ran out of candy, until about 7:40. That's pretty good--the first year we lived here, we had no idea of what to expect and we ran out of candy in 20 minutes. Greg ran back to the store twice before we gave up and turned out the light.
We're cash-poor now because we spent all of our money on candy (literally about $50), but at least we had fun. Happy belated Halloween to you!
That's a pretty good year. I don't think it's a record. The second year we lived in our house, the weather was warm and kids were out for a long time, even young ones. That year I think we topped 350.
Most people I've talked to say that they get anywhere from 30-50 kids. Why do we get so many more? We live on the corner of a pretty busy street and we live on a cul de sac.
Plus Greg puts some effort into our decorations. This year, we had the traditional full-size mummy man, fog machines, black lightbulbs, and strobe lights. Yes, plural strobe lights. I now have epilepsy.
Trick-or-treating started at 6:00 and Greg started off around the neighborhood with the girls. I sat in a lawn chair on the new front porch and waited (we never bother to sit inside or you'd just have the front door open all night).
I had two kids come up. The little ones are pretty freaked out by the mummy, so I'd call, "It's OK. We're nice! It's just pretend." Then I waited and looked down the street to see who else was coming.
There was a group of kids coming out of the house across the street and some came around the corner and some appeared from up the hill and within 3 minutes, I had 25 or so kids. Then in another 5 minutes, I was already up to 50 kids. Yes, we keep track. It's a tradition in my family.
We made it most of the way through the 2 hours before we ran out of candy, until about 7:40. That's pretty good--the first year we lived here, we had no idea of what to expect and we ran out of candy in 20 minutes. Greg ran back to the store twice before we gave up and turned out the light.
We're cash-poor now because we spent all of our money on candy (literally about $50), but at least we had fun. Happy belated Halloween to you!
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