The Battle of the Fish

Sibling rivalry has begun.

We have gotten little glimpses of it, but the events of Wednesday evening were a very clear picture of what we have in store.

On Wednesday evening Nate and I had errands to run. I wanted to go to World Market to pick up some dishes for Thanksgiving; Nate needed new thermals from Dick's. The stores are next to each other, so we each took a kid and went our separate ways. I took Ted because Henry + fragile sparkly things = disaster but Ted is much more cautious and respectful. While we were there, Ted fell in love with a fish. The fish is a bright plastic clown fish with a green worm-on-a-string at his mouth and when you pull on the worm, the fish's tail flaps back and forth. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" I heard over and over while my dishes were being wrapped.

Nate caught up to me and we all got in the car. I'd purchased the fish for Ted and hadn't thought to get anything for Henry. (I thought that Nate, upon seeing Ted with the fish would divine that I expected him to let Henry pick something out too. We don't normally let the kids pick something out just for going along, but I was feeling indulgent.)

The whole way home Ted flapped the fish's tail. "He's wagging his tail, Mommy!" Henry grew more and more desperate in the adjacent car seat. Two-thirds of the way home he was weeping "FSH FSH FSH" and pointing to the toy.

When we got home I needed to make dinner, a task much more easily accomplished without monkeys trying to climb up my leg, so we sequestered the kids. I convinced Ted to let Henry have a turn with the "fsh" while Ted watched a video in his room. This involved a couple of tears, but the toy was surrendered without huge amounts of protest and I took the fish to Henry, still crying with grief in the family room.

Henry giggled and cooed at the fish. He pulled the worm and watched the tail flap. "FSH!" When he'd thoroughly examined it, he went up the stairs to Ted's room.

He opened the door, brandished it at Ted and took off running down the hall. Ted was in hot pursuit, "Give it back, Henry!" Henry, realizing that Ted was gaining on him, threw the fish down the stairs, giving me the opportunity to pick it up and squirrel it in a closet.

Henry often surprises up with his resourcefulness and cheek. Considering that he's not even two yet, we expect we will have many Henry stories to tell as the years pass.

The Mystery of the Cookie Cutter

I have lots of cookie cutters that I've gotten from various sources. I've purchased many of them myself- there's a site that I like using- great prices, fast service- it's this one:

Others were handed to me in their ubiquitous fruitcake tins, complete with a strip of masking tape and the words "Cookie Cutters" written across the tape in black permanent marker.

Some of them are easy to identify. The teddy bears, bells, pine trees and gingerbread men are obvious. Some are less so- the Christmas wreath is plain enough when it's decorated, but not as identifiable before adornment. Some are more obscure- Santa with a pack or a reindeer can sit to the side, unincluded until halfway through the cookie making process when someone declares, "I know what that is!" Is it a bear? Or a dog? Or a sheep? Who knows? Clearly that one is some type of quadruped and the kids will enjoy decorating it how they see fit.

Then there are the other ones that remain a mystery.

I finally figured out how to determine what those cookie cutters represent: ask a three-year-old.

I have one cookie cutter that I'd routinely pull out just to try to solve the mystery. "What is this?" Most people wouldn't even venture a guess.

One person declared it was a leprechaun with a very large penis. "Come on," I asked,"why would someone make a cookie cutter in the shape of a leprechaun with a very large penis?" "Well," she retorted, "If you're so sure that's not what it is, then tell me- what is it?" I had no answer for her- I'd been trying to figure it out for a couple of years. Since I had no answer for her, she declared herself right.

I finally found out what it is.

"Ted," I asked yesterday while making gingerbread cookies with the kids, "What is this cookie cutter supposed to be?" Without pause he answered, "It's a penguin, mommy!" That's much more appealing than the leprechaun. My other mystery cookie cutter was identified as "A rabbit wearing a hat, Mommy!" Very well then.

Anyone want a penguin cookie?

Smiles, Smiles Everyone!

I have recently joined Facebook. I have been surprised by the number of people who have re-connected with me there. I have caught up with friends I lost touch with, some more than twenty years ago.

I go to the profiles and if they have photo albums I will often take a few minutes to look at the pictures they have uploaded. The snapshots of my friends' lives are truly inspiring. I see such love and joy and affection beaming out from my computer screen.

I am a sap. I am glad about that. I have been brought to tears by the happy pictures of my old friends. It brings me true joy to know that the people I care about have so much in their lives.

So keep posting the pictures my friends because you often make my day better. :)

Editorial Comments Re-thought (Or Use a Stamp, Please!)

I read my news online by-and-large. I receive the local paper on Saturday and Sunday only and sometimes I don't have the time to read it- occasionally it will go into the recyclable-paper bag almost completely unread.

It's easy enough to click on the news links when I take a few minutes each day to check my email and catch up with my fellow bulletin-board members. I've got a couple of news sites saved so that's often how I receive my news. I try to stop reading once I reach the bottom of the article but occasionally I can't stop myself and continue reading.

What comes after the text of the article are the viewer-supplied editorial comments. The vitriol and ignorance contained in these missives is always startling.

I think it's simply too easy to provide comments. Anyone with a computer can dial in their viciousness for all to ponder- no stamp required.

My grandfather used to carefully craft letters to the editor. He was a wordsmith and an educator- he wrote his letters because he felt that his opinion could change something he viewed as wrong. He was proud when a letter was published. He was very careful about what he wrote- every word was thought-out.

I wonder what he would think if he read some of the things that I have read in the editorial comments- offerings such as "but anyway maybe turning urselfs into some kind of stupid tactics is too complicated and i hope people wont peak on you or i hope it last!" (I culled that gem, verbatim, offered as a full sentence, from something I read today.)

I've heard it said said that people should have something invested in what they own in order to get them to treat it with respect. Perhaps the same is true with opinions. If editorial comments could not be made anonymously and required some kind of investment, such as a stamp, then the quality of what is being offered would be better contemplated and maybe even worth reading.

Maybe these sites should have some kind of terms:
Before submitting your editorial comment you must check the box:
"By checking the box I certify that my opinion is valuable, contains an opinion worth sharing, is not overly repetitive, has been edited for content and grammar...."

I believe that most people don't read the terms they're agreeing to with those "check the box" notifications though, so maybe a $.42 stamp would be a better investment to require.

Until that time comes to pass, I'm going to continue to try to keep myself from reading beyond the text of the articles!

Good Stuff

I really like my 3-year-old. Ted's turning into quite a character and I really like him. He's stubborn as a mule and won't do anything he really doesn't want to. Sometimes his logic doesn't make sense to me, but we've figured how to work with each other in a very satisfactory way.

I've always loved the mulish little cuss, but I'm really developing a fondness for him that is different than the love that I have.

I think what's changed is that he's really coming into his own as a person. Over the last couple of months his physical skills have taken huge strides- he can climb a ladder for example, or walk on a balance beam. At the same time his verbal skills have increased exponentially. He can tell me about things that happen when I'm not around, or add his own details to a story. He will volunteer things about a picture- what the characters are doing or how they are feeling.

He's started treating us a little better as well. He's more inclined to say "please," "thank you" or "you're welcome" and he will put his dishes in the dishwasher, help me dry the dishes, bring me things or throw things away.

He shares his opinions and has them on just about everything- plaid button-down shirts with collars if you please.

With his increase in independence I have some relief. An opinionated child who is unable to express his preferences can be frustrating. "What? What do you want? I'm trying to give you what you want and I just can't figure it out." This is something I have said more than once to my children, whether the recipient has been the wailing infant at 3 AM or the toddler who's thrown himself on the floor because I pulled fresh socks out of his dresser (???)

He doesn't always get what he wants. He asked for peanut butter and jelly today just as I finished cutting up his grilled cheese sandwich. He had the grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. It's easy enough to grant his other requests though- he wants shirts with collars? That's fine with me.

At least I'm not trying to guess about everything any more.

He's still a stubborn little cuss but at least now I know what's causing him grief because he can clearly tell me about it. Neither one of us is as frustrated as we used to be and our relationship is flourishing. One of his current favorite things to do is stand on a chair in the kitchen and watch me cook- I explain every step to him. I LOVE sharing this time with him.


So far this stage is my favorite.

Betsy's Got a Brand New Bag

I've finally given gardening a try.

I've always considered myself to have a black thumb- every time I tried to grow something it quickly failed and died, leaving me sad and guilty-feeling.

This year was different. I have my son's Tot Time teacher to thank for it really. For one of our crafts Miss Susan gave all of the toddlers a small flowerpot, some dirt and marigold seeds. Ted was never much interested in the crafts (New Thing! Must not enjoy New Thing! Not until it is My Idea!) but when we got home he took some real interest in it.

We planted the seeds in the pot he'd affixed his stickers to, watered them and put the pot on the kitchen windowsill. We watered the pot every day and checked it for sprouts. Just about the time I was figuring I must have killed the marigolds without them ever sprouting, little green blades appeared on the surface of the soil. We got excited (me more than Ted I think) and watched them grow. Soon they were about two inches tall. But like all of my prior experiences, the leaves started to look depressed and the plants developed a lean. I started to get sad- I'd been here before more than once and I knew what was coming.

Outside! Maybe I should move them outside and let Mother Nature take over. She's not nearly as homicidal as I when it comes to plants!

So the pot went outside on a wall and the leaves righted themselves and recovered. They were doing just fine until we had a bad storm. The storm knocked the pot off the ledge and the little seedlings lay ruined at the base of the wall, surrounded by dirt and pieces of broken pot.

For the first time ever it looked as if my plants were going to survive and we were done in by outside forces. I was dejected.

But not yet beaten.

Off to the local gardening center we went. "I'm a rookie," I explained to the man in the green apron, "but if this is going to be our project, I think we need a vegetable- something we can actually harvest. I have no idea what I'm doing or where to start, so load up my cart with everything I'll need."

Our tomato plant has been glorious. We'll get nearly 30 tomatoes from it all told. They're not all perfect, but they're pretty darned tasty; the petunias that surround them have bloomed heartily all summer long.

The marigolds that we salvaged from the wreckage are lush and blooming. The cucumber didn't fare as well, but we got 4 cucumbers from it and I think I know where I went wrong with that one. I have harvested each of the basil plants a couple of times and still have much more than I can use. The mint got transplanted next to the house. I went back and got vincas and impatiens and they have carpeted the area where I planted them. I went back again and got lantana and superbells and the butterflies come and visit them daily.

The house that we live in is not ideal for gardening- we have lots of shade, but I have places where I can put pots. I have plans for my garden next year already and I'm excited by the possibilities. I dreamed of radishes last night.

I tend to go all in with a new project and I'm trying to rein in my enthusiasm so that I don't go overboard- I am still a rookie really- just a rookie with a good first season. I don't need a huge grow light or a greenhouse kit or a new house.... yet.

A Suggestion

What's up with "serving suggestions" on containers of food? Have you ever noticed them? I'm always curious who comes up with these things because I don't understand the reason behind them. A can of soup will have a picture of the soup that is inside the can but it's been put in a bowl with a spoon in it. Next to the picture will be the text "serving suggestion."

Can people really not figure out that the soup can be put in a bowl? Does the manufacturer actually need to suggest that a spoon is the appropriate utensil? Because if the consumer really is that stupid then why does the manufacturer think that same consumer can read the words "serving suggestion?"

Frozen dinners are another one- it will show the frozen dinner, cooked and put on a plate. "Serving Suggestion." It's cooked and put on a plate to remind the purchaser that it shouldn't be devoured frozen, box and all, I suppose.

Serving Suggestions- just another one of those things that makes me scratch my head.

I'm a Dork

It's been a busy summer around here.

We just got back from vacation- my second in a month- and I have a lot to write, but the evening is my time for writing. But I can't write anything while I'm watching the Olympics.

I first got into the Olympics in 1980. I was 15 years old and I made an Olympic scrapbook from newspaper clippings and my brother's copy of Sports Illustrated, my parents' copy of Time magazine and anything else I could get my hands on.

Ever since then I have been a total dork about the Olympics. I get teary every time our national anthem is played. Every story of courage and obstacle makes me feel pride even though the stories are not mine and I know none of the athletes. I don't know why I get so choked up about all of it, but I do.

I have new pictures I need to upload and stories to tell. I will be back. Just as soon as the Olympics are over.

A Toy Rant

I'm mad at Curious George. Not the Curious George. A Curious George. Specifically, this Curious George.

Ted recently turned 3 and we had a party for him. My sister was in town and rather than having four different family events to go to, we decided to streamline our week and have one big family party and say it was for Ted's birthday.

One relative called and asked what to get Ted for his birthday. I explained to her that really the party was to get family together, but if she really wanted to get a gift she should go to the grocery store and spring $2 for one of those balls in the big wire basket in the aisle by the cash registers.

Being conscientious, she instead went to Target and carefully selected Tub Time Curious George, spending approximately ten times what a grocery store ball would have cost. I can see why she would have chosen it- everyone loves Curious George, right? And he blows bubbles! What's more fun than bubbles if you're a 3-year old? But the toy is a dud. It is difficult to work and the reason it's marketed as a tub toy is because if you don't hold it exactly upright, it vomits soap from its mouth. Oh, and you're not supposed to get it wet. Really.

Toys should be made better than that.

I have come to believe that toy manufacturers look at the public as a prey species. Just as the guys at the bait shop will tell you what the fish are biting on, I imagine the toy execs sitting around highly-polished long tables, wearing expensive suits, trying to figure out how to get the most money from our wallets. What will lure out our cash?

I believe their tactics fall into one of two categories:
1. They can make good toys
2. They can make crappy toys and slap Curious George or Mickey or Dora or Diego or Spongebob on it and watch it fly off the shelves.

By putting a beloved figure on a crappy toy, they create the lure. The fish are biting. As parents we know that our children will light up when they see their favorite character peeking out from behind the paper. It's Mickey! And he came to my house! To play with me! As harried shoppers we see a familiar face and think "Surely Spongebob wouldn't endorse a crappy toy. I know Spongebob and he wouldn't stand for something like that." Our children see the ads on TV and that toy becomes the one that they really really want. And so out come the credit cards. Out comes the cash.

I am lucky that I have some time to shop. I generally do my pre-shopping from this chair. I read reviews. Hundreds of them. I winnow down my choices. I am glad my children are disinclined to watch much TV- they don't clamor for the crappy toys yet. Over and over I see the same thing- toys that are designed to make you buy more toys- like this one: It has a Mickey Mouse that plugs into four small holes. The car seats one figure and it only works when the figure is plugged in- meaning it won't work if you lose Mickey or don't have another figure from the same series to plug into it. Not only is this difficult to get plugged in right if you're still working on your fine motor skills, but Mickey has a tendency to go on walkabout in my house. Without my intervention this toy rarely works.

Toys that just plain don't work, like George. (It worked exactly once.)

Toys that only work with the cars or figures that come with it- the Mickey car being a prime example. Many of the car ramps also fall into this category. (I am not including train sets or building sets in this category- in those cases consumers know beforehand that they are buying part of a set- it's not a surprise.)

Toys that are not durable. One car ramp that I declined to purchase had reviews that said over and over "It falls apart every time I try to move it."

------------------------------------

I have put nearly-new toys in my recycle bin and I cringe when I do it. The money that was spent on the purchase was spent in good faith. It was spent in the hopes that the toy being purchased would be beloved. Not recycled.

Toy manufacturers ought to be ashamed of themselves for producing crappy toys. The Amazon reviews of the George toy gave it 1 1/2 stars, only because reviewers can't give less than 1 star. Even the good reviews said that the toy didn't work, but their kid liked it anyway because it was Curious George. That's not good enough.

The toy industry ends up being able to take advantage of those people who don't have the time to research their toys and those who don't have the ability to. I have a couple of relatives who wouldn't know how to begin to research a toy.

I don't know how to put an end to it. I can't ask everyone I know to start putting in the kind of time that I do simply because it's important to me. If there are any toy executives out there who happen to stumble across this blog, though, I'm talking to you. And I sure hope you have a conscience.

For award-winning toys, go here or here or do your own search- there are lots of good toys out there- you just have to go looking for them.

Curious Nostalgia

I miss the viruses of my youth. Really.

I finally have my voice back. I got a cold and lost my voice for six days. SIX! Laryngitis and I are old friends. I have occasionally gotten it- maybe once every two years or so- for my entire life. I remember getting it in grade school. My voice would be hoarse and I'd lose my voice for maybe half of the day- the rest of the day it would be patchy. The next day I'd sound like Kim Carnes (Remember "Bette Davis Eyes?") and then I'd be fine. None of this six day BS.

The stomach viruses of my youth were nothing compared to what we have now either. Ted got some infernal virus called "rotavirus" when he was a year old and threw up for 8 days. EIGHT! And that's normal for that virus.

When I was a kid, other kids would get sick and they'd be out of school for a day. Two days in a row meant that either they were REALLY sick (like they had leukemia) or it meant that their mom was a worry wart. Nobody threw up for more than a day.

Some people miss the television shows or the department stores of their youths. Not me. I miss the viruses.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I could make all kinds of lame excuses for why I've been bad at making it here lately. I haven't posted since March, even though my blog address is in my e-mail signature. You'd think that would make me a more regular poster. Ha! Peer pressure be damned!

I do have folks who nudge me occasionally- you haven't written anything in a while.... Yeah, I know that.

The truth is that I'm busier than I ever thought I'd be as a stay-at-home mom. This evening by the time I got the kids put to bed and the dishwasher started, it was 10 minutes until 9. I had a busier day than most- I went to the zoo with a friend and her 2 kids, came back and made lunch for everyone, put the kids down for naps, ran to Gabriel Brother's to find some cheap t-shirts for Ted for the Summer, came home and played with the kids, made dinner, played with the kids, put them to bed and cleaned the kitchen (sort of.) It only took me about 12 minutes to make dinner however and there were many things that I did not do today- no laundry, no menu planning, no bill paying, no grocery shopping, no school, no library, no crafts, no cleaning other than the kitchen, no errands. It's now 20 past 9 and I'll be going to bed in another half-hour or so. My day is spent.

I still have a hard time putting my finger on it when people ask me how I fill my time though. To the question "What do you do all day?" I tend to answer "Everything" or "Good Lord, what don't I do?" because "Raise children" seems even more vague than those responses.

I don't really know why I don't have more time to write- I suppose it's because I go through phases with everything and right now I'm simply not in a writing phase. I'm in a quilting/knitting/crocheting phase, so I'm more likely to spend my discretionary time doing that instead. But my projects are starting to pile up as well.

My time is slipping by. I don't know where it's going, but I will tell you that I spent a full hour today as both of my kids together climbed on me and I tickled them while they screamed and laughed and begged for more. I was lying on the floor and Henry would tuck himself under my chin and roll over so that his belly was right there, prime for raspberries and Ted would roll over my back laughing and shouting "more!" I consider that to be an hour very well spent.

When I sit down and make a budget, I have carefully taken notes that explain my spending habits. I know how much money a week I spend on coffee or lunch or groceries. I suppose I could make a time budget for myself and try to account for the minutes of my day. It might help explain where my time is going. It might also help me answer the question "What do you do all day?" I suppose I'll get right on that. Ha!

Maybe when people ask me what I do all day I should respond "I play with my children."

A Mellow Buzz

A mellow buzz. I expect that's what she wanted, my beloved relative whom I will not out with the story of her Friday night. She's a lightweight, that one, and not well versed in cocktails. She probably just wanted a mellow buzz. Had she known the volume of alcohol that a Long Island Iced Tea has in it, I'm sure she wouldn't have ordered one in the first place..... let alone two..... and a half....

I have no issues with lightweights. They are cheap companions who often get to forgo the dragging the next day that many of their compadres will inevitably experience. She should know what to order in a bar. So, too should my other friends who fall into this category, so I figured I'd blog some choices for my lightweight friends.

Some General Rules:
Avoid any drinks that refer to destruction. Drinks that have the following words: eraser, melting, meltdown, wreck or flaming are likely to be potent.

Likewise, avoid most drinks that have sexual references. These drinks are often sweet and intended to contain enough alcohol to lower a girl's inhibitions. (Men are unlikely to order a drink with a sexual innuendo. "I'd like to have a Sloe Comfortable Screw...." or "I'd like to have a Busted Rubber" are not words many men want to say in public. I expect you'd have to be in certain bars to hear that spoken by a man and the gal I'm primarily writing this for is unlikely to be in those bars.) An exception to this rule is Sex at My House. You can have Sex at My House.

Avoid drinks with the word "Nazi." They most likely have Jagermeister in them. Don't go there.

Avoid drinks with the word "Irish" in the name- these usually fall prey to the stereotype that the Irish are heavy drinkers and pack an inevitable punch. Most of them also have whiskey in them and if you don't like to drink, you probably won't like whiskey anyway.

Avoid Martinis. Many of them have almost no filler and are one different alcoholic beverage on top of another. If there is a mixer, it's often just an ounce.

Avoid drinks with references to pain. I can think of several drinks with the word "screaming" in them. No, no, no.

Finally, no "iced teas." Whether it's a Long Island, a Boston or any of the others, it's likely out of your league.

What you should be looking for if you are a lightweight is a drink with a low proof alcohol and a lot of mixer in it. If you have a glass of something in your hand then you still get to be a part of the party, so order a drink that you can sip for a long time. Good examples of this are the Amaretto Sour or the Sloe Gin Fizz. Wine Spritzers are another good bet- wine's proof is generally about half of what sloe gin is; you use more wine in a spritzer, but I expect that the actual alcohol volume would be roughly the same.

Avoid shots. Just say "no." If you do a shot then you end up having no drink in your hand. The effect of the alcohol in the shot takes a bit to reach full fruition and it's too easy to make a poor drink choice at this point if you are a lightweight. If you can truly order a shot (again something low volume only) and then sip a soda for the next hour, fine. I think it's better to resist temptation.

Get used to saying "Heavy on the...." to the bartender as in "Rum and Coke, heavy on the Coke." The bartender will respect you for knowing your limits. Bartenders don't like having really drunk people in their bar. It's a greater responsibility, more work and sometimes that work includes clean-up of the worst kind. Bear in mind that the lightweight should always order their own drinks. Sometimes "friends" like to "have fun" with an unsuspecting lightweight and get them polluted. Any two ingredient drink is a good option so long as the lightweight makes the request heavy on the mixer. If you ask for it in a tall glass, the bartender will usually use the same amount of alcohol but use enough mixer to fill up the glass. I would suggest making this clear with your barkeep so that there's no room for misunderstanding.

If you are a lightweight and belly up the the bar, here are some drink options:

Amaretto Sour: 2 oz Amaretto, fill with sour mix.
Melon Sour: 2 oz Midori, fill with sour mix
Sloe Gin Fizz: 2 oz Sloe Gin, top with sour mix, shake, splash with soda water
Sloe Poke: 2 oz Sloe Gin, top with cola
Wine Spritzer: Fill wine glass 3/4 with ice, fill 3/4 with desired wine, fill with soda water
Amore-Ade: 1 1/2 oz Amaretto, 1/2 oz. Triple Sec, fill with soda water
Sex at My House: 1 oz Amaretto, 1 oz Framboise, fill with pineapple juice
Bitch Fight: 1 oz Peach Schnapps, 1 oz Orange Liqueur, dash of lime juice, fill with cranberry juice, shake
Fuzzy Fruit: 2 oz Peach Schnapps, fill with grapefruit juice
Fuzzy Navel (with caution): 2 oz Peach Schnapps, fill with orange juice. When I was a bartender, this was the recipe for Fuzzy Navel. I have seen new books add a shot of Vodka to this drink. We used to call that a Hairy Navel. In the current guide I have the recipes for Fuzzy Navel and Hairy Navel are identical.)
French Summer: 1 oz Framboise, fill with soda water
Cherry Life Savor: 2 oz Amaretto, fill with cranberry juice

So happy drinking, my lightweight friends. Enjoy your nights out and enjoy the following day too.

All of the drink recipes come from here: For my money, it's the best drink book out there and I thank the author for making such a comprehensive guide.

I Thought So!

I re-read my post from yesterday. In it I mentioned that Henry was on the verge of walking.

Yeah.

Yesterday afternoon Henry turned away from the window where he was standing and took his first step into my arms.

It's hard to describe the emotions that come bubbling up from such a feat. In that single step he moved away from babyhood to toddlerhood. With that single step he reminded me that he will be my last baby and he's not going to be a baby for much longer. I'll call him a baby until he is truly walking- not just a step here and there, but now that he's realized that he, too, has this gift of bi-pedal ambulation, he's been all about practicing.

That is, when he's not being pinned by his brother.

I Being Noxious!

We all officially have cabin fever. It's February 23, we've seen the sun maybe twice since November and the kids have taken up Big Time Wrestling as their main hobby.

Our new slogan is "As long as nobody's actually bleeding, it's OK."

Seriously- the kids (remember that they're only 1 and 2) have taken up full-contact wrestling as a way of relieving the constant boredom. Screaming is a common background noise if you call our house.

And before you start thinking of other things to do, bear in mind that we take them outside to play. We go to the mall. And to the pool. And to the park. And we separate them and take them on separate excursions in the afternoon (one of the major benefits of Nate's schedule.) The kids are bored roughly 5 minutes after we return from any outing. We've also bought them new toys and taken them to the library every week. Still they are bored.

Sometimes if Henry is hollering, I'll make eye contact with Ted who is often laying across Henry, pinning him to the floor, and he'll slide off Henry and say to me "Be Nice to your Brother!" And sometimes I'll say to Ted "Quit being obnoxious." He looks at me with pride and replies, "I being noxious!"

Well, yeah- you are being noxious.

Spring is around the corner- the corner is a little farther away than I'd like, but March in Ohio brings the occasional glorious 70 degree day. We'll be able to go to the park and actually use the slides once or twice in March. I can't wait. neither can the kids. Henry is on the verge of walking and I know that chasing them around the park will be a two-person job this summer, but at least we'll be outside. We'll be able to let the kids play in the sandbox on the balcony and run around in the yard. Hopefully the screaming will subside. There's a lot of laughter too- they really do enjoy rough-housing with each other- the screaming is what is trying though.

In the meantime I'll be stuck inside for the most part with the relentless baby and Ted. We'll be watching the snow fall and I'll be peeling them apart when it appears that blood will soon be flowing. Henry will be getting into everything- emptying trash buckets and trying to reach the toilet. Ted will be trying to relieve his boredom.

How will Ted do that? By being noxious.

Sweet Relief

It's been going on for three weeks now, so I am going to commit it to writing.


Henry is sleeping through the night.


In case you didn't hear that, HENRY IS SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!



Something changed- I have no idea what it was, but Henry suddenly went from waking up 2-4 times a night to a child who sleeps through. I now have my patience and energy back. The bags under my eyes are fading and I've returned to the level of competence I used to enjoy. I am fairly sure that my days of going to the grocery store without a list are behind me, but at least now I am well-rested enough that I don't forget half of the things written on the list that I have in my hand while I shop.

Woo Hoo!

What a Difference a Haircut Makes

Henry transformed from a baby to a little boy yesterday.

The "after" picture isn't great, but it's the best we have at the moment. We'll take him for professional pictures sometime within the next week.

Oh Henry!

Oh, Henry! I don't know how many times a day I say it. He's exasperating. He's into EVERYTHING all of the time. he's relentless.

He does not like to sleep and fights it as though he'll die if he falls asleep. I have tried every method suggested to me and nothing works. Last night it took me an hour and forty-five minutes to get him to sleep. I placed him in his crib six different times. Finally I nursed him until he fell asleep and held him on the pillow in my lap for an extra five minutes to make really sure that he was asleep before gently transferring him to his crib. His eyes flew open and he howled with protest. I shut the door so that I could collect myself before snatching him back up. I was tired, frustrated and even a little angry at my baby. I'd had a 13 hour day already (not counting the hour during which they both napped- a minor miracle unto itself) and I was raw around the edges, so I waited before going back into his room.

He was quiet. Then he began crying afresh. Then he was quiet. Then he cried. This cycle sometimes happens when he is finally winding down for the night, but it's unpredictable. Sometimes he winds down and goes to sleep. Sometimes he winds himself up and goes into a full-out screamfest. I never know which one it's going to be until it's over.

I stood at the top of the stairs for fifteen minutes while he went through this cycle of crying and quieting. I wanted my day to be done. I wanted a little bit of time to myself before heading to bed.

Henry is 11 months old and I still don't get him. He has no routine that he sticks to. He's still a mystery to me. I am surprised by this. I study my children and Ted has been so easy to read- Is he cranky? If so then he's
1) Hungry
2) Tired
3) Overwhelmed
That's Ted's list.

Henry's list is different.

Is Henry cranky? If so then he's
1) Hungry
2) Tired
3) Suffering from some mystery ailment that I'll never be able to decipher
More often than not, it's number 3. Last night was this way. I'd given him some Tylenol in case he was teething (he's chewing on his fingers these days) but he didn't want me to hold him. He didn't want me to put him down. He wasn't hungry. His pjs weren't binding. His diaper was fresh and dry. It was comfortable in the house. He was clearly tired, but he wouldn't go to sleep.

Mostly Henry is bubbly, happy and engaging. I couldn't love him more. He's cuddly with both Nate and myself and he adores his brother. When he's being difficult, though, he has no rival. He is immensely frustrating. I hope it's a phase as opposed to him asserting a part of his personality that will manifest itself in various ways in the future. I just can't figure out this child of mine.

Oh, Henry! What am I going to do with you?