If a picture paints a thousand words...

...then why not paint your face?


...and the table, and the chairs, and...

Praise the Lord for washable markers!

(Sing with me, won't you? "She sees the dining room and wants to paint it black...")

Unexpected Postal Regulations

My thought is, they're routing people to the website out of necessity, now that only dogs can use the actual post office. I always suspected something like this was going to happen.

It's all relative, I suppose...

I dreamed last night that I drove my car into a rather large body of water. Some sort of bay. I was driving my Oldest somewhere, and realized I was taking this incredibly unprotected bridge too fast, and before I knew it, there was nothing I could do, we were going into the water.

I tried to hold on to the car with my legs as I swam to shore, and I thought I'd done it, but as I climbed out of the water I realized that what I'd been holding was a suitcase, and most of its contents had fallen out along the way. (Don't even get me started on what I believe this means about my psyche.) My husband came to help me, and subsequently was fired.

In my dream, all I could think about was my brother's wedding- how could we get to the wedding when we had no car and the Man had no job?

I woke up 1/2 hour late for work. So my first thought this morning was "SHIT! I'm late! But hey, at least my car isn't in the bottom of a bay."

Politely Tyrannical

We've been working on manners with our Small One. Just the basics, you know, please, thank you, no thank you. She's doing pretty well, I must say.

An unexpected downside, though, is how beautifully she incorporates manners into her natural two year old tyranny. "NO THANK YOU!!!!", she'll yell, as we put her into bed. Or try to get her to eat, or put her into her carseat, or whatever else she's protesting at that moment. We don't get the normal two year old "NO NO NO NO!" tantrum, we get a "NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU!!!!!"

"I need a candy cane for dinner!" quickly changes to "May I PLEASE have a candy cane for dinner?" which then disintegrates into full fledged wailing "MAY I PLEASE..."

Well, you get the picture- never has a dictatorship been run with such good manners.

My favorite, though, was the other day when I was having a beer. She asked what I had, I told her it was a beer, and the following conversation ensued:

Small: "I need a beer."

Me: "No, my darling, you do not need a beer."

Small: "I need a beer in my MOUTH." (pointing)

Me: "Nope, beers are not for little girls."

Small: "May I PLEASE have a beer?"

Well... since you asked so NICELY...

The Finer Points of Pet Ownership

We have a dog. He's a cute little dog, the kind of dog you'd expect to see in a movie, trotting along beside his young owner down a dirt road, towards the old fishing hole. We suspect that he's a cross between a Jack Russell terrier and a Shih Tzu, leading us to smugly assert that we do indeed know Jack-Shih't.

This is our dog:



He was acquired back when Middle Child was this girl:



At the time, she was showing herself to be a very responsible young lady, babysitting, saving her money, making wise decisions in general. These days, not so much.


Middle Child has left the building, by the way. In the fall, she decided that there were greener pastures to be trodden over at her dad's house- I protested, and held out for quite awhile, but in the end she tortured me into letting her go. As she was preparing for the move, her brother asked her whether she intended to take the dog with her, and she gave him an emphatic NO. Dogs are too much trouble, too much work. (I could have told her that the same applies to teenaged girls, but I bit my tongue.)

Anyway, shortly after that conversation, she was grumbling about some dog related task she'd been asked to perform, and the Man asked her, "Do you remember when we GOT the dog, and you promised to be the best dog owner EVER, and always take care of him, and be responsible for him?"

She rolled her eyes, hard, and said, "I have taken that back SO MANY TIMES by now."

(Should I tell her there are no takesies backsies in pet ownership?)

Small at Play

I was at my computer today, attempting to get some work done, and my Small One was playing with her little people behind me. She just got a new minivan for the little people, and it's all very exciting. I suddenly tuned into what she was saying in time to hear the following conversation:

(and yes, my 2 year old does use different voices for the different characters in her games)

Voice 1: You need a get out a there!

Voice 2: No, I not need a get out a here, I just a little baby!

Voice 1: No, you not a little baby, you a CAMEL. You get out a there!

Voice 2: Noooo, I not a camel, I a little baby!

You realize, I had to turn around and check this out. What was happening is that a camel from the Noah's Ark set had somehow gotten into the back seat of the minivan, and the dad of the family was trying to make the VERY reasonable point that it was sitting in the baby's seat. They argued back and forth about this a few more times, and finally, the camel was defeated.

"You're right," he said sadly, "I a camel."

To the little dad's credit he said "Oh, it's ok."

So, that was kind of him, I think.

Another random act of kindness has been happening today... I have a Nativity set that is a prized possession of mine, not because it's valuable, or even particularly decorative, but because it was handed down to me from my mother. It's the Nativity set I remember from my childhood, and that "baby Jesus" will always be the official baby Jesus replica to me.

This year, because my Small One has gotten over her phase of putting everything in her mouth, I risked putting the Nativity on the coffee table where she could have access. She's utterly delighted by this and has spent hours today recreating the Bethlehem scene, sometimes adding her own touches, like bringing a giant pink pig for a visit. But the most remarkable thing to me is this: she can't STAND that the baby is in a manger. Because let's face it, a manger is not a comfortable place.

She went through her toys and found a little crib. "Baby Jesus need a sleep in his OWN bed!" she announced. The giant pig agreed wholeheartedly. The engineer from the train set held the baby Jesus and gave him kisses. All in all, a lovely scene.

I'm hoping not to be such a slacker in 2009, and I'm also hoping to get a few blogs in over the holiday weekend, but in case I don't say it, I hope you all have a blessed and happy holiday season, and a peaceful Christmas.

Sad Moment in a Jolly Season

Just thought it fitting to let you all know of the passing of a small adventurer.

Yes, Sputnik the hamster died last week. Ironically, he died a peaceful death in the still of the night- alive at bedtime, passed on before breakfast. After a lifetime of escaping the confines of his little home for the perils of cats and dog and toddlers and electrical cords (which he considered a delicacy), he apparently died of natural causes. We're thinking old age, because he was huge when we got him, and never got any bigger, so we're thinking he may have been long in the tooth even then. And of course, hard living can age a guy.

RIP, little Sputnik, you will be missed.

But not replaced. And not because you could never be replaced in our hearts...no, just because I'll be dipped and fried before I'll have another rodent in the house.

Stay tuned, as the Oldest lobbies for a hedgehog. (I WISH I were making that up.)

Almost a month!

Is it sadder that I've neglected this blog for almost a month, or sadder that I have unfinished blog entries waiting for me to post them?

My problem has been multifaceted. I find myself bogged down by things that I'm not sure how to handle, and certainly not with humor. This lack of humor obviously impedes my creative process, because I promise you all do NOT want to know the thoughts going through my head these days. My inspiration is low. In addition, my household of crazies is keeping me ultra busy these days, and there are very few moments in the day for me to think, much less create.

How am I having the time to blog right now? Ah, for that I must credit a beautiful thing called Yo Gabba Gabba, a kids' show starring these guys:

Now, some of the music is admittedly a little irritating, but the messages are good, (share, keep your hands to yourself, try new foods, clean up after yourself) and while the orange guy looks a little disturbing to me, my Small One is enthralled. We rented a dvd from Netflix, and 100 times a day she says to me, urgency in her voice, "I NEED to watch Yo Gabba Gabba".

For the record, I do NOT let her watch it as many times as she thinks she needs to, but tonight, we've had a huge amount of quality time, so I'm not feeling too guilty about sitting behind her using the laptop while she sings and dances with these weird looking dudes.

The reason for all the quality time? Christmas tree time! Whee! Yes, another holiday ritual through which I DRAG my surly teenagers, forcing cheerfulness all the way! Sing it with me- "It's the holiday season, so whoop dee doo!" Every Christmas, I plan a decorating night, with tree decorating, cookie baking, Christmas related crafts, snacks and treats, friends invited- the works. Every year, the teenagers act like I'm torturing them, but secretly, they enjoy it. (Yes, they do. Shut up.)

Here is proof they actually enjoyed it last year:

This year, we didn't take pictures. But THIS year, there's something new! This year is the first year my Small One understands what's going on!!! How cool is that? Last night her dad brought the tree in while she slept, so she awoke this morning to a pine tree in the living room. She SQUEALED, and when I came in a found her standing, openmouthed but smiling, in front of it. When she saw me, she turned and said "That's MY Christmas tree!" Tonight, of course, she spent much of the time either dismantling ornaments or lying under the tree in a trance, looking at the lights, but hey, at least she's into the spirit of the thing.

We've been working on the concept of Christmas. Santa Claus is an easy one, she visited him last year and there are pictures she likes to talk about with us. The deeper meanings are trickier for a two year old, but we've been working on learning about baby Jesus, and that seems to please her. She likes to point out baby Jesus in any nativity scene she sees. I've been feeling pretty good about this, until she pulled this guy out of the ornament box tonight:


Yes, most of you will recognize that guy- he's Yukon Cornelius, from the Rankin Bass version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. But Small One, she doesn't know Rudolph, much less Yukon Cornelius. She picked the little guy up out of the box, hugged him, then got really excited and held him up for us to see.

"Look!" she said, gleefully, "It's Baby Jesus!"

NEED! NEED! NEED!

My Small One is generally a pretty amusing creature. Pleasant. Entertaining. Mostly cooperative. I really enjoy her, most days.

THIS day? Not so much. "NEED! NEED! NEED!" has been the rallying cry of the day. The child has been insane. In the membrane.

Oh, she's had sparkling moments of being her own sweet self, like when she stood in front of her daddy's closet imitating me as I cleaned out my closet, or when she "helped clean" the bathroom by polishing the sink with a paper towel while I scrubbed the toilet.

Actually, my favorite moment of the day was when she enforced sharing for the pets... I asked her to set a dish of egg yolks down for the cat, but she decided she needed to make him share with the dog. ("NEED SHARE, KITTY!") She'd hold the dish in front of the cat for a minute or two, then yell at him to share, and hold it in front of the dog for a minute or two before yelling at HIM to share and giving it back to the cat. It was pretty funny, I must admit.

And my other favorite moment just happened. The Man is home now, so he's taking a shift with the insane toddler, and I could hear her yelling at him in the kitchen. "NEED NEED NEED, DADDY! (Unintelligible toddler babble, babble, babble, babble) NO-NO, DADDY! NEED DAT!" but then she came running back to my room, where I've holed up with the laptop. She ran to me, lay her head on my knee, smiled and said "Hi, Mommy! How YOU, Mommy?" Who could help but smile back at her? She's a mess, for sure.

Back to the egg yolks, though... my LEAST favorite part of the day was the moment that created the dish of egg yolks in the first place, an incident that I like to call "Egg Apocalypse 2008". I accidentally left the carton of eggs on the counter when I went to do a run of laundry, and the Small One pulled the whole carton down onto the floor! To make matters worse, since I was in the back of the house gathering laundry, she managed to walk all over the place looking for me, dripping eggy goo all the way. AAARRRGGGHH!!!!

Well, I'll say this much for her- she was upset about it. Deeply troubled by the mess, and the waste of the eggs- which is new for me, because Oldest at that age would have been downright gleeful, and Middle Child wouldn't have troubled herself to try and reach the eggs. When I was cleaning her off, I asked my Small person why she made such a mess, and she said, through tears...

"NEED NEED NEED cheese eggs, Mommy!"

Lax to the Max

Yeah, so I don't blog too often these days! It's not my fault, I can't help it, life moves too fast for me. ;o)

Small One was, in fact, a very aggressive trick or treat-er, commanding us to "go that way!" right before she took off in whatever direction at a dead run, sometimes saying trick or treat, sometimes telling people her name, sometimes just asking for candy. Usually said "thank you", though, so it's all good.

I meant to blog over Halloween weekend, actually, because I got super excited that my friend Kat is doing giveaways every weekend for 10 weeks:



And she started it off with giving away all sorts of "Wicked" related goodies! Wowza! My Middle Child would give her left arm (well, maybe not-thanks Lilly) for Wicked tickets, and perhaps a lesser body part for other "Wicked" paraphernalia. Must...win...giveaway...save...MC's...body parts...

But, I got distracted. Because I was trying to get ready for a big surprise for my mom's birthday.

Then, of course, the election was upon us. Despite the hype, I was in and out of the polling place in about 3 minutes. Took the Small One with me, and she was charming and well behaved, but we were in there JUST long enough to have a run in with an obnoxious mama... you know the type, probably it was her first baby, and truly, the ONLY baby ever worth having, certainly the best one to grace THIS planet, not to be touched or viewed by other, lesser humans. She really should keep it home, is all I'm saying.

Here's what happened. We were waved over to the table where high maintenance mama and her precious offspring were signing in, (I'll call them HMM and PO from here on out) and my Small said "Ooh! A baby!". Didn't make a move TOWARDS the baby, stood about 2 feet away, holding her own baby doll with both hands. Then when we went to the voting booth, we walked down to the one next to HMM and PO. The woman turned to me with PANIC on her face, and said "I don't want your child touching my baby!!!!!!", pronouncing the word "child" as though she meant "disgusting street urchin" or maybe "poisonous snake". I said "Oh, don't worry, she won't touch her." (Again, Small is standing 2 feet away from the carriage, which is one of those that's pretty high off the ground ANYWAY, and also again, she's holding a babydoll in both hands. Not even considering touching little PO.)

HMM goes into full freak-out mode. Flaps her arms a la Wallace and Gromit. Says, in a DESPERATE tone, "I would move away from your booth, but I've already started voting!!!!!!" I said "Oh WHATEVER, Lady! I'll move. Come on, Small, this Lady doesn't want you to touch her baaaabbbbeeeee." Yes, I was sarcastic. But I moved. After I sneezed on her baby. Was that wrong? Actually, I didn't sneeze on her, but I hope SOMEONE did, because what I really wanted to do was lick her.

After we voted, we hit the road! Whee! For the second year in a row, we drove 6 hours to pop in on my mom for her birthday. Next year, we can't possibly pull the same trick, because it'll hardly be a surprise if we keep doing it every year! "Yawn... when are Amy and Small One showing up for my surprise birthday party?"

But, readers, you'd have been proud of me. I got all crazy domestic before the trip. I made lasagna and chocolate chip cookies- two batches! One to leave here to feed the folks staying home, one to take with us so we didn't have to say "Surprise!!! Feed us!!!" And these weren't ordinary cookies either, folks... no, these were Jessica Seinfeld Cookies, complete with super sneaky vegetables in them. (They were chick peas, and no, you can't tell they're even in there.) I made a double batch of Jessica Seinfeld's mac & cheese, too! I made turkey meatballs. I brought fruit and vegetables. I was so super organized, I didn't even recognize me.

My mother was surprised, the visit was relaxing, movies were watched, games were played, no one spent too much time in the kitchen, we even squeezed in a trip to the beach. Small One was well behaved and stuck beautifully to her regular schedule... the only downer on the trip is that she seems to have caught a cold. Probably from that germy little election day baby.