I would like to introduce you all to the big hunk of metal that is currently serving no function in our kitchen other than using up valuable cabinet real estate.
We are now going on nearly three weeks without a dishwasher. Something about the company sent us the wrong parts blahblahblah.
We get to collect some sort of award if this goes on past a month, right?
Thanks to Chris, I was directed to this article about political bumper stickers.
And now all I can think about is that I want Obama to win because his bumper sticker is more aesthetically pleasing.
That may be shallow, but, dude, I’m going to have to look at that sticker for, like, EIGHT WHOLE MONTHS.
We scored Jen and her roommate for seven hours in a row to watch all of our kids and Chris and Alex. I’m not sure whether to call them brave or naive. But I’m fairly certain that no one will have to press the issue of family planning on either of them even again.
Anyway, we waged war against our basement and Susie and Doug tackled their garage.
This is instance #876 where I am reminded that life is completely different than pre-kids. In the old days, cleaning the basement meant a day of hard work, and, oh, I might miss my afternoon nap. Today? Weeks in the planning and at least an hour or two packing and prep work the night before of lunches, clothes, diapers, etc.
Although we’re not totally done, I’m proud to say there’s room for tricycles and balls and running and play.
As of a few days ago, Ellery officially weaned. I’m not exactly sure when our last nursing session was, and for that, I’m actually grateful. I hate goodbyes. I’m someone who likes to pretend that the last time I’m going to see someone before they move or go on holiday is actually the second-to-last time. The last time of anything is just always kind of morose and a big bummer and I hate that feeling of turning, walking away, and knowing things will never be the same as they were just moments ago. So it was best that it was all a little unclear, or I might have had some over-analyzed, emotional breakdown.
Anyway, the writing had been on the wall for some time. Ellery was never much of a comfort nurser…she was mostly there for the meal. When solid foods came along, she was far more interested in those. And nursing was rarely a quiet event these days, as she was far more intrigued by the going-ons in the lives of Neko and Shep than the snack bar on the couch. So between real food and competing entertainment, she was dropping nursing sessions right and left.
And as it plays out, it seems to have been a good time for both of us. She doesn’t seem to be missing it and I haven’t had any discomfort. I feel like we had some unspoken agreement that it was time.
I know it sounds a little schmaltzy and sentimental to give it this much thought, but I’ve spent a good part of the last five years nursing a baby, so it’s a little bittersweet to think those days are behind me. But I’m less sad than I thought I’d be. I’m a bit nostalgic, thinking we’re nearing the end of “baby” days. Ellery turns one in two weeks, and before I know it, she’ll be a toddler. I know everyone says it, but it really does seem like yesterday that Neko was Ellery’s age, and now she’s this walking talking kid with opinions and feelings and long legs and, oh, did I mention the opinions?
While I’m a bit down, I’m excited about what lies ahead, too. In a few years everyone will be potty trained and able to buckle themselves into the car unassisted. Each person will be able to carry their own stuff, and the possibilities for family outings and vacations will increase exponentially. We can go out to dinner and have conversations instead of simply performing crisis management. And maybe, just maybe, someday Tom and I will wake up in the morning before they do. And feel well-rested.
There’s good stuff ahead, I’m thinking.
And in the short term? I’m looking forward to ceremonially burning all my stretched-out, dingy, clinical cotton nursing bras and buying some new ones that fit. You know, as soon as I figure out what size I really am.
We’ve been struggling with breakfast these days. We make breakfast, but they don’t eat it. And then we shuffle them into the car to go to school or some other destination, and suddenly they’re hungry. So breakfast? It needs to be portable.
Muffins are a great answer, but I’ve been struggling with creating the perfect one. There are those really yummy ones that have no nutritional value, which, of course, they love. Then there are the really healthy ones that are chock full of nutrients, but they just pick out the raisins and leave the rest for the dogs.
But I think I’ve struck upon a happy medium. I start with a Dr. Oetker muffin mix. Then I add a whole chopped apple, a generous amount of raisins, finely grated carrots, several scoops of protein powder, and some extra cinnamon. Yes, these muffins are pretty high in sugar, but they’re pretty high in other nutritional value once I’ve packed all that other stuff in, too. And the kids? They gobble them up. In and out of the car!
Next time, I think I’m going to sneak in ground flax seed as well. Let’s see how far I can push the envelope.
Now if I can just figure out which box in the basement contains my muffin top pans…
When I die, I wish to be reincarnated as Lauren Child so that I can create the amazing collage-y illustrations that I adore in our new favorite books and DVDs about a boy named Charlie and his little sister Lola.
Okay, maybe I don’t need to BE her, but I do want to do those amazing illustrations. Plus, I want every outfit that Lola wears to immediately be made into a real outfit and stashed in our closet.
But back to the actual stories. What I truly love about these characters is that they are siblings who actually get along and love one another. Every book is narrated by Charlie and begins, “I have a sister named Lola. She is small and very funny.”
Since the books originated in the UK, all the characters on the DVD speak with an English accent. Neko has picked up some of the intonations, and sounds a bit like Madonna these days.
Other than Charlie and Lola, the other character that has staying power is a dog named Sizzles that Lola and her friend Lotta promise to keep an eye on at the park (and promptly lose). Of late, there has been a heavy campaign to change Daisy’s name to Sizzles.
I was super-excited to find this re-release of Pippi Longstocking updated with illustrations by Child. I’ve put it on the list for future bedtimes.
All around the world, as the sun begins to wane, people gather in their kitchens and prepare an evening meal. Many of these people have children. In my career as a parent, this is the one thing I still cannot figure out. How do people do it? How do you peel the children off for long enough to prepare a meal for which the preparation is a bit more complicated than “cook for six minutes on HIGH”?
Some people use television. This would be fine if I could actually count on both of my children being glued to the television for 30 consecutive minutes at the same time. This has happened, oh, I dunno, like three times in my parenting career. So that’s not useful. Others say, “I simply tell them they have to leave me alone.”
I tried this today. I informed everyone that I needed 30 minutes to cook dinner. Neko, in frustration, promptly went to her bedroom and fell asleep. I suspect the subconscious passive-aggressive in her of thinking, “Evict me from the kitchen? I will foil you by sleeping, thereby totally ruining any chance you have of a smooth bedtime.” (Plan successful.)
Ellery, my ever-sunny baby, burst into tears and continued to sob unless I was holding her. And Shep, literally, had to have skin-to-skin contact for the full dinner prep time.
As I cooked, I began hurling kitchen implements to the floor, just hoping I could distract them for long enough to chop an onion. I managed captivate Shep for a few minutes with these magnetic spoons.
Just as all the behavior started to get better, Shep and Ellery developed a nasty cold. One of those where they’re so congested they wake up every hour all night but never at the same time colds.
I swear, being a parent really is an amazing experience, but it’s punctuated with all these potholes.
Blogging, however, has taken a back seat to the crud.
On the upside, however, Neko doesn’t seem to have gotten this round of sick. This might prove to me that this fabled thing I keep hearing about called “immunity” may not be as mythical as I suspected.
A few weeks ago, when we got snowed in on a Saturday, we decided it would be a great idea to start unpacking all those thousands of boxes in the basement. Turns out, this is a really great idea for a couple with no children, and, say, 72 uninterrupted hours on their hands. But for a couple with three kids who have maybe twice in their lives played quietly in the corner? Not so much.
Needless to say, we got just to the point where you’ve taken out all the boxes, unpacked just enough that there’s a pile of boxes of trash, a pile of boxes for Goodwill, and a pile of boxes of thing you care about and they’re all mixed into one big explosive pile that you can barely walk through.
Anyway, for the past month, the basement has been pretty much unusable. We take the kids down there periodically, but it’s more like one of those school exercises where the nuclear bomb has exploded, and you have to try to figure out how to survive in this brave new world. Neko and Shep have piled packing paper into the jungle gym and the bounce house, and created little pathways in between. We keep losing Ellery in between boxes.
So today, in lieu of basement time? A morning shower with a special bonus. Apples IN the shower. I’m sure that’s in some Montessori book somewhere.
Dear ToyWiz,
Recently someone asked my four-year-old daughter what she would like for Xmas. She replied, “A purple unicorn.” Thanks to the power of the internet, a purple Beanie Baby unicorn arrived on my doorstep a few days later.
Then some other clever soul asked my two-year-old son what HE would like for Xmas. Having just heard his sister’s answer, he replied, “A yellow unicorn. With a guitar.”
Terrific. Purple unicorns are hard to find, but matching yellow ones? Really hard. But I found one on your Amazon store. I ordered on December 12th, thinking that would be plenty of time. And I chose you over other retailers since you are an Amazon reseller. My trusty Amazon. I then found a small stuffed guitar, and declared myself well prepared.
Until a day ago, when I received an email stating simply that my order has been cancelled. No reason, just cancelled. After chatting for a long time with some Amazon representative in India, we think the reason is simply incorrect inventory. But let me tell you, nothing is more frustrating than visiting the same web page to see that you still claim it’s in stock. WTF?
I know, this whole online retail thing is new territory for all of us, but I kind of feel like I just got dumped by my first love. No warning, just online betrayal. And the worst part? I was broken up with via email, with no explanation.
I’m not the kind of woman who goes postal over a Beanie Baby, but when you come between a boy and his unicorn? Expect a few waves.