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.