Yesterday I picked up Helen at daycare, and she had a meltdown as we got to the front door. I think she wanted to play outside, and I was wearing shoes that hurt, and a linen suit that I just wanted to get OUT of already, and if she could just pick herself up off the porch and come inside for a minute ... well, you and I both know she's almost two, so that didn't work. So I hauled her up and carried her in, and that's when the meltdown started. I changed my clothes in my bedroom while she laid on the living room floor, wailing.
Usually when she gets to wailing, she wants her pacifier. The pacifier is for sleep time only. She knows this. I tell her this whenever she asks for it, and a quick distraction usually works. This time, it didn't.
I tried ignoring the fit. I tried reminding her that she doesn't get anything by crying, that she needs to ask nicely, and to say "please" if she wants something.
Ah, who are we kidding? Toddlers learn to throw fits because that gets the attention - negative or positive, it gets the attention because parents usually react to a fit. Normally I use distraction and it has been successful in the past. But I think she's at the age where independence and a need for control is rearing its ugly head. Last night, distraction wasn't going to work at all. So I tried very hard to just ignore the wailing. Occasionally, if she seemed to quiet down, I would remind her that she needed to ask nicely for her pacifier, instead of screaming for it. Hearing my voice seemed to make it all much, much worse.
It was about 30 minutes of pure toddler fury. At times she was so upset, watching this little girl have a gigantic fit, complete with the stomping feet and the flying fists, was actually pretty funny. I hate to say that I laughed, but I really, really did.
She finally stopped crying and wandered into the kitchen. I came in, and she showed me something she had pulled out of the cabinet. She wasn't crying anymore. I asked her if she was ready for dinner. She was. She got whatever she asked for, as long as she said "please." And it worked. The rest of the evening was fine.
This morning when she woke up, she went into full-throttle fury mode again. The difference was, I had about 4 minutes to get out the door for work. So I didn't have time for the ignoring, or the patient reminding about asking nicely. Parenting books never tell you how to deal with a time crunch like this, and all I knew to do was to keep moving, with a struggling crying toddler who was furious at me for not giving her a pacifier. So everything was no. No pants, no shirt, no sandals. Oh, ESPECIALLY no sandals.
I had worked so hard to get a clean diaper and clothes on a squirming target fighting me every step of the way, and of course I was having my own little meltdown about starting the morning this way. Somehow, it wasn't nearly as funny as it was the day before. So I decided I'd head to the car, strap her in her toddler seat, and have some free hands to put the sandals on. We headed downstairs, and as I grabbed my purse, Helen kept wailing, "No sandals, no sandals!" through giant, sobbing tears. Walking toward the door, I replied, "Oh no, Helen, it's ALL sandals, ALL the time!"
I got the sandals on. I dropped her off at daycare. I MIGHT go get her tonight. We'll see.
5.03.2007
5.02.2007
Roommates I Have Known, Part 4
Once Olivia transferred, we managed to convince the Housing Office that Samantha could move from her room across campus to join us. They fell for it, and Samantha was in.
Samantha fit right into the room. A petite girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, she was originally from England, and came to America when she was 10. I remember one time she showed me her green card, which was actually a nice shade of pink. Who knew?
She and I got along very well. She was a quiet girl around new people, but once I got to know her, she had a really dark sense of humor that I loved. We stayed up late a lot our freshman year, getting to know each other and talking about all the things from our hometown. Since we both went to high school in the same town, she and I were convinced we knew each other before college and just forgot that we ever met. Maybe we did, maybe we never did. But today, knowing her as well as I do, I think it was because we were destined to become best friends.
She and Cari had both decided to rush a sorority our sophomore year, and I remember the sisters coming to Megan and I ahead of time to let us know they'd be breaking into our room in the early morning hours to get them. This struck me as really funny, because during our freshman year, the girl next door to Samantha rushed Chi Omega. The sisters made a HUGE racket, banging on her door and screeching loudly at about 6 a.m. I remember stirring in my sleep, thinking "What was that?" I didn't know that Samantha flung open her door and glared at all of them. One of the girls smiled and said, "Sorry!" in that sing-song girly voice that isn't really sorry at all.
Samantha slammed her door as hard as she could.
I tell you, if the girls hadn't woken up everyone up with the screeching, that door slamming did the trick. I was on the other side of Sam's room and holy cow, it rattled our windows. The Chi Omegas treaded quietly out of our hall and never made another peep.
Samantha was legendary that day. All of us on the hall were awed by her. So when the sorority came to get Samantha and Cari for their own initiation (NOT the Chi Omegas, thankfully), instead of the hoopla we witnessed the previous year, the sisters tiptoed in with flashlights and snuck both of them out quietly. What a contrast.
Our own Tuesday night parties in the Chalet continued. But with two sorority girls as roommates, I tagged along with them to the off-campus parties on the weekend. Most of our school's social life came from the Greek system. One fraternity in danger of losing its charter from dwindling membership attracted the attention of some of our guy friends, who saw it as an opportunity to rebuild the group as their own. So we joined their parties on the weekends, too.
The campus started a shuttle bus system that we used to travel to the nearby apartments off-campus. There was a theme song for these rides that a few people reading this blog will be able to sing along with immediately: "Ride the shuttle bus, get your money's worth ..." And now that I've reminded you of it, I DARE you to get this song out your head by tomorrow. :)
Both Samantha and I were dating "older" men, and late that spring term everything got really messy. Samantha was always there to listen and always knew the right thing to say. She was incredibly supportive. I can only hope I was the friend she needed then, too.
Both Cari and Samantha, who were taking German, decided to spend fall term of their junior year studying in Vienna, Austria. That would leave me without a roommate for one term. Cari's planned roommate for her junior year, a sorority sister named Jen, needed a roommate for that term, too. So she & I paired up in an off-campus apartment that fall, waiting for our roommates to come back to the USA.
It was a terrible horrible no good very bad time. Jen was up to that point just a nodding acquaintance of some people I ate lunch with regularly. She seemed normal enough for the first few weeks, but it turns out she was a touch crazy in the head, and it all started coming loose that year. She had a boyfriend that I think enjoyed pushing all of her buttons at once and stepping back to see what happened. I sort of kept my head down and tried to ignore it.
But there was also some serious drama with the fraternity and boyfriends and good friends that all happened for no good reason whatsoever. And the whole time, my best friend was halfway around the world, speaking German every day. She and I wrote each other constantly, and sometimes saved up our money to call each other. I remember pouring out my heart in a very long letter about all the terrible things that were happening, and she called me very early one morning to talk about it. I had kind of gotten better by the time she called, but hearing her voice on the phone brought it all back right away and I think I spent most of our precious few minutes on the phone crying. I still have her letters, filled with lots of No Ways! and How Could Theys?! - as many as she could fit into the left side of a postcard. I tell you folks, that is a true friend.
Samantha came back to school in January, and we managed to secure the apartment next door. I remember the rent was something ridiculous like $400 a month for a two-bedroom. The place was originally built as government housing for returning Vietnam veterans. It was a dump, but it was OUR dump. We made the best of it with some of our parents' cast-off furniture and kitchen stuff.
Speaking of kitchen stuff, this is where the baked beans on toast figures in prominently. I'm sure she can chime in with all of my weird stuff, too. But this blog entry is about HER. :)
Sometimes we had our own parties in that apartment. But the best one, I remember her mom sent me some money to buy her a cake for her 21st birthday. Samantha was a little younger than the rest of us because of the age differences for grade school in England. So all of us had been 21 for quite a while, and we decided to celebrate her birthday in style. For college students, "style" is code for "get a keg." I had been to plenty of parties with kegs, but never had one in my own place before, and never had one since then. We bought ballons, made snacks, invited all the neighbors and cranked up the music. It was a great party and I know Samantha had a lot of fun, too. I can't wait to show her kids the pictures one day.
Six months after we graduated, I heard our apartment building burned down over Thanksgiving Break. I lived nearby and came back to town often, so I drove over to see the damage. Sure enough, there was a shell of a building left, surrounded by orange consruction fencing. It was shocking to see it. I just stood there, staring at it for several minutes, not saying anything.
The fire started two apartments away from ours. There were lots of rumors flying around, but that particular apartment was the home of two younger girls we knew from the fraternity parties, one of whom smoked constantly. However it started, though, I can't imagine coming back from the holiday and seeing everything GONE. This was a place where I had stored the precious few things I'd managed to collect and call my own. My computer, my entire music collection, my clothes, and those super bath towels my sister had given me. I couldn't imagine starting over with nothing.
I got some renters insurance for my own place, pronto.
Since graduation, we've both lived in plenty of different cities. We've called and written and emailed to stay in touch. I was in her wedding, and many years later, she was in mine. I've spent weekends at her house, enjoying her children and chatting with her husband. We've even had some very rare girl time to ourselves. She has morphed into a wonderful chef, a mother of two darling kids, and a very responsible homeowner. After a long career in the legal field, she stayed home to take care of her kids, and now teaches science to junior high students.
This is the dark sense of humor girl I spent so many nights in college hanging out with, laughing over something ridiculous at 2 a.m. at Dunkin' Donuts, or singing Nine Inch Nails in the car at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down. I tell you, life takes some strange turns. I'm just so glad she's still here to laugh about it all with me. And also to help me remember it. :)
Samantha fit right into the room. A petite girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, she was originally from England, and came to America when she was 10. I remember one time she showed me her green card, which was actually a nice shade of pink. Who knew?
She and I got along very well. She was a quiet girl around new people, but once I got to know her, she had a really dark sense of humor that I loved. We stayed up late a lot our freshman year, getting to know each other and talking about all the things from our hometown. Since we both went to high school in the same town, she and I were convinced we knew each other before college and just forgot that we ever met. Maybe we did, maybe we never did. But today, knowing her as well as I do, I think it was because we were destined to become best friends.
She and Cari had both decided to rush a sorority our sophomore year, and I remember the sisters coming to Megan and I ahead of time to let us know they'd be breaking into our room in the early morning hours to get them. This struck me as really funny, because during our freshman year, the girl next door to Samantha rushed Chi Omega. The sisters made a HUGE racket, banging on her door and screeching loudly at about 6 a.m. I remember stirring in my sleep, thinking "What was that?" I didn't know that Samantha flung open her door and glared at all of them. One of the girls smiled and said, "Sorry!" in that sing-song girly voice that isn't really sorry at all.
Samantha slammed her door as hard as she could.
I tell you, if the girls hadn't woken up everyone up with the screeching, that door slamming did the trick. I was on the other side of Sam's room and holy cow, it rattled our windows. The Chi Omegas treaded quietly out of our hall and never made another peep.
Samantha was legendary that day. All of us on the hall were awed by her. So when the sorority came to get Samantha and Cari for their own initiation (NOT the Chi Omegas, thankfully), instead of the hoopla we witnessed the previous year, the sisters tiptoed in with flashlights and snuck both of them out quietly. What a contrast.
Our own Tuesday night parties in the Chalet continued. But with two sorority girls as roommates, I tagged along with them to the off-campus parties on the weekend. Most of our school's social life came from the Greek system. One fraternity in danger of losing its charter from dwindling membership attracted the attention of some of our guy friends, who saw it as an opportunity to rebuild the group as their own. So we joined their parties on the weekends, too.
The campus started a shuttle bus system that we used to travel to the nearby apartments off-campus. There was a theme song for these rides that a few people reading this blog will be able to sing along with immediately: "Ride the shuttle bus, get your money's worth ..." And now that I've reminded you of it, I DARE you to get this song out your head by tomorrow. :)
Both Samantha and I were dating "older" men, and late that spring term everything got really messy. Samantha was always there to listen and always knew the right thing to say. She was incredibly supportive. I can only hope I was the friend she needed then, too.
Both Cari and Samantha, who were taking German, decided to spend fall term of their junior year studying in Vienna, Austria. That would leave me without a roommate for one term. Cari's planned roommate for her junior year, a sorority sister named Jen, needed a roommate for that term, too. So she & I paired up in an off-campus apartment that fall, waiting for our roommates to come back to the USA.
It was a terrible horrible no good very bad time. Jen was up to that point just a nodding acquaintance of some people I ate lunch with regularly. She seemed normal enough for the first few weeks, but it turns out she was a touch crazy in the head, and it all started coming loose that year. She had a boyfriend that I think enjoyed pushing all of her buttons at once and stepping back to see what happened. I sort of kept my head down and tried to ignore it.
But there was also some serious drama with the fraternity and boyfriends and good friends that all happened for no good reason whatsoever. And the whole time, my best friend was halfway around the world, speaking German every day. She and I wrote each other constantly, and sometimes saved up our money to call each other. I remember pouring out my heart in a very long letter about all the terrible things that were happening, and she called me very early one morning to talk about it. I had kind of gotten better by the time she called, but hearing her voice on the phone brought it all back right away and I think I spent most of our precious few minutes on the phone crying. I still have her letters, filled with lots of No Ways! and How Could Theys?! - as many as she could fit into the left side of a postcard. I tell you folks, that is a true friend.
Samantha came back to school in January, and we managed to secure the apartment next door. I remember the rent was something ridiculous like $400 a month for a two-bedroom. The place was originally built as government housing for returning Vietnam veterans. It was a dump, but it was OUR dump. We made the best of it with some of our parents' cast-off furniture and kitchen stuff.
Speaking of kitchen stuff, this is where the baked beans on toast figures in prominently. I'm sure she can chime in with all of my weird stuff, too. But this blog entry is about HER. :)
Sometimes we had our own parties in that apartment. But the best one, I remember her mom sent me some money to buy her a cake for her 21st birthday. Samantha was a little younger than the rest of us because of the age differences for grade school in England. So all of us had been 21 for quite a while, and we decided to celebrate her birthday in style. For college students, "style" is code for "get a keg." I had been to plenty of parties with kegs, but never had one in my own place before, and never had one since then. We bought ballons, made snacks, invited all the neighbors and cranked up the music. It was a great party and I know Samantha had a lot of fun, too. I can't wait to show her kids the pictures one day.
Six months after we graduated, I heard our apartment building burned down over Thanksgiving Break. I lived nearby and came back to town often, so I drove over to see the damage. Sure enough, there was a shell of a building left, surrounded by orange consruction fencing. It was shocking to see it. I just stood there, staring at it for several minutes, not saying anything.
The fire started two apartments away from ours. There were lots of rumors flying around, but that particular apartment was the home of two younger girls we knew from the fraternity parties, one of whom smoked constantly. However it started, though, I can't imagine coming back from the holiday and seeing everything GONE. This was a place where I had stored the precious few things I'd managed to collect and call my own. My computer, my entire music collection, my clothes, and those super bath towels my sister had given me. I couldn't imagine starting over with nothing.
I got some renters insurance for my own place, pronto.
Since graduation, we've both lived in plenty of different cities. We've called and written and emailed to stay in touch. I was in her wedding, and many years later, she was in mine. I've spent weekends at her house, enjoying her children and chatting with her husband. We've even had some very rare girl time to ourselves. She has morphed into a wonderful chef, a mother of two darling kids, and a very responsible homeowner. After a long career in the legal field, she stayed home to take care of her kids, and now teaches science to junior high students.
This is the dark sense of humor girl I spent so many nights in college hanging out with, laughing over something ridiculous at 2 a.m. at Dunkin' Donuts, or singing Nine Inch Nails in the car at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down. I tell you, life takes some strange turns. I'm just so glad she's still here to laugh about it all with me. And also to help me remember it. :)
5.01.2007
This is no ordinary love
For my birthday this weekend, I got a camera. A really nice camera. Is it possible to love a piece of electronics this much? Well, I do. I don't care who knows it. My camera & I are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
For the camera junkies out there, it's a Canon Digital Rebel XTi. It came with a lens kit for the zoom (18-55 mm). In two days, I took 70 pictures. Each of them are over 3MB. My laptop literally groaned when I uploaded them last night.
A few months ago I moved most of our pictures on our computer to an external hard drive, to give us a little breathing room on the laptop. And now I finally understand the point of all those terrabyte drives. It's so I can store 18,000 pictures of my child that I will take this year.
I plan on becoming quite the photographer of my child. Just look how good* the pictures already are!
Helen celebrates NFL draft day with her daddy in her new Tennessee Titans gear.
* - "good" is my opinion.
For the camera junkies out there, it's a Canon Digital Rebel XTi. It came with a lens kit for the zoom (18-55 mm). In two days, I took 70 pictures. Each of them are over 3MB. My laptop literally groaned when I uploaded them last night.
A few months ago I moved most of our pictures on our computer to an external hard drive, to give us a little breathing room on the laptop. And now I finally understand the point of all those terrabyte drives. It's so I can store 18,000 pictures of my child that I will take this year.
I plan on becoming quite the photographer of my child. Just look how good* the pictures already are!
Helen celebrates NFL draft day with her daddy in her new Tennessee Titans gear.
Helen needs a haircut. Really, really needs a haircut. But I can't bring myself to cut those curls. Also, I will laugh at whoever thinks she can sit still for a haircut. Ha!
At her cousin's birthday party, Helen contemplates which to smear on her face first - ice cream or cake.
Here we have a rare shot of the photographer, as she reluctantly lets someone else use her PRECIOUSSSSSSSSS.
* - "good" is my opinion.
4.26.2007
Roommates I have known, Part 3
Megan, Cari & Olivia
About a week before fall term started, I found out from the Housing Office that I would be living in a converted study room in the basement with 3 other girls. Um, what? I didn't know any of the other 3 girls. We met as I moved my stuff in that first day. Samantha, meanwhile, was stuck on a freshman hall across campus.
For some strange reason that no one on campus could explain, this basement study room had a large bathroom with four separate shower stalls. To make it a room for us, they took out all of the study carrels and put in furniture - beds, closets, dressers & desks, all lined up in neat rows. Of course, we promptly rearranged everything.
One of the nearby freshman halls adopted us, and their RA nicknamed our room the Chalet. I think she was trying to be ironic, considering our room was at the lowest elevation on campus.
Returning students spent months popping in the door, thinking it was still a study room. We had serious air conditioning problems those first few weeks. The maintenance staff came by nearly every day to take care of something new. It took some getting used to, but we managed to make the best of it.
The no-window thing turned out to be a giant blessing in disguise. I could nap for hours in the pitch-black dark.
Megan was a senior who wanted a single room on-campus. Instead, she got 3 sophomore roommates. She was an art major and spent most of her time in her studio, working on projects. She was kind of a strange egg at times, seemingly quiet and tuning us out - but genuinely nice. I learned everything I know about straightening a black woman's hair from her, watching her spend hours washing and drying and flat-ironing her hair once a week.
Cari was a very tall girl, with long blonde hair. She came from an all-girls school, and still wore her plaid skirt to class on special occasions. Cari had a huge music collection, and more importantly, a television. So now we could have our "90210" nights! She was incredibly fun to hang out with, but she needed her alone time. Living with 3 other girls, the room was rarely empty, but sometimes I would come home from class to see her sitting on her bed, with her headphones on and music blasting. She'd wave, but the headphones didn't come off.
I don't recall what the problem was one week, but I had been down in the dumps about something and my Chris Isaak CD had been playing for 3 days in row. Every time I came into the room, I turned it on. Finally, on the third day, Cari very nicely but firmly asked me if I could play something else - ANYTHING else. She was kind enough to let me mope for a bit, and she let me know it was time to MOVE ON, ALREADY.
Every so often, Cari would ask me to trim her long hair, so she wouldn't have to pay for a haircut. I'm not sure why she asked me, but it did make me realize I did not have a future in a beauty salon.
The four of us loved to take road trips off-campus with the windows down and the radio blasting a favorite tune. We usually ate dinner together, and kept each other company on a walk to the Student Center. Without any hallmates nearby, or an RA to sneak past, our basement room felt like real freedom. We were determined to enjoy it. Some of our guy friends would come over to hang out once a week and play cards or watch a movie. We called it our Tuesday night drinking club. Oh, we were so daring back then!
I've left Olivia for the end. Olivia was the odd one in the bunch. Moody would be the best word to describe her. She was either a little too eager, or completely miserable. She had a really crazy laugh that reminded me of a donkey braying. Sometimes she was so depressed, she turned into a little black hole in the room that sucked out all the energy. The mood swings came on suddenly, and without warning. It made it difficult to live with her, and eventually we just settled for having minimal contact with her. Well, as minimal as you could when you were all in the same room.
The final straw though, was when she started jogging at 5:30 a.m. None of us got up before 8 a.m., so having an alarm go off at that hour, combined with turning on a light, showering and getting dressed - well, it was rude. Asking her to jog later was like provoking an angry boar. She had to jog then, and no other time would work for her. She refused to get up without the alarm, the light, or the shower. So after a few weeks of this, the 3 of us had a meeting and decided Olivia had to go. She could talk to the Housing Office and find another place to live, but she couldn't live with us anymore.
Years later, as I watched the first season of MTV's Real World, I felt like I had already done that show in the Chalet. We were strangers in a new place, and having three roommates instead of the usual one magnified all of our attitudes and quirks. Virtually no privacy made it even tougher. If we had any other living situation, dealing with Olivia might have turned out very different. But at the time, we saw no other solution.
We told her the news at a McDonald's off-campus, and she ended up crying and running off to the parking lot. I went out there to talk her down and get her back into the car so we could go home. Over Christmas break, she transferred to a state school in her hometown. Maybe because I was the one who talked to her in the parking lot that night, she decided I wasn't part of the meanies who kicked her out, but for months I got letters and phone calls from her. It was all just idle chit-chat, keeping me posted on her new life. She seemed happier, or else she was determined to show me she was better off at her new school.
Samantha, who had been living across campus, replaced Olivia after the Christmas break. I'll save that story for tomorrow.
About a week before fall term started, I found out from the Housing Office that I would be living in a converted study room in the basement with 3 other girls. Um, what? I didn't know any of the other 3 girls. We met as I moved my stuff in that first day. Samantha, meanwhile, was stuck on a freshman hall across campus.
For some strange reason that no one on campus could explain, this basement study room had a large bathroom with four separate shower stalls. To make it a room for us, they took out all of the study carrels and put in furniture - beds, closets, dressers & desks, all lined up in neat rows. Of course, we promptly rearranged everything.
One of the nearby freshman halls adopted us, and their RA nicknamed our room the Chalet. I think she was trying to be ironic, considering our room was at the lowest elevation on campus.
Returning students spent months popping in the door, thinking it was still a study room. We had serious air conditioning problems those first few weeks. The maintenance staff came by nearly every day to take care of something new. It took some getting used to, but we managed to make the best of it.
The no-window thing turned out to be a giant blessing in disguise. I could nap for hours in the pitch-black dark.
Megan was a senior who wanted a single room on-campus. Instead, she got 3 sophomore roommates. She was an art major and spent most of her time in her studio, working on projects. She was kind of a strange egg at times, seemingly quiet and tuning us out - but genuinely nice. I learned everything I know about straightening a black woman's hair from her, watching her spend hours washing and drying and flat-ironing her hair once a week.
Cari was a very tall girl, with long blonde hair. She came from an all-girls school, and still wore her plaid skirt to class on special occasions. Cari had a huge music collection, and more importantly, a television. So now we could have our "90210" nights! She was incredibly fun to hang out with, but she needed her alone time. Living with 3 other girls, the room was rarely empty, but sometimes I would come home from class to see her sitting on her bed, with her headphones on and music blasting. She'd wave, but the headphones didn't come off.
I don't recall what the problem was one week, but I had been down in the dumps about something and my Chris Isaak CD had been playing for 3 days in row. Every time I came into the room, I turned it on. Finally, on the third day, Cari very nicely but firmly asked me if I could play something else - ANYTHING else. She was kind enough to let me mope for a bit, and she let me know it was time to MOVE ON, ALREADY.
Every so often, Cari would ask me to trim her long hair, so she wouldn't have to pay for a haircut. I'm not sure why she asked me, but it did make me realize I did not have a future in a beauty salon.
The four of us loved to take road trips off-campus with the windows down and the radio blasting a favorite tune. We usually ate dinner together, and kept each other company on a walk to the Student Center. Without any hallmates nearby, or an RA to sneak past, our basement room felt like real freedom. We were determined to enjoy it. Some of our guy friends would come over to hang out once a week and play cards or watch a movie. We called it our Tuesday night drinking club. Oh, we were so daring back then!
I've left Olivia for the end. Olivia was the odd one in the bunch. Moody would be the best word to describe her. She was either a little too eager, or completely miserable. She had a really crazy laugh that reminded me of a donkey braying. Sometimes she was so depressed, she turned into a little black hole in the room that sucked out all the energy. The mood swings came on suddenly, and without warning. It made it difficult to live with her, and eventually we just settled for having minimal contact with her. Well, as minimal as you could when you were all in the same room.
The final straw though, was when she started jogging at 5:30 a.m. None of us got up before 8 a.m., so having an alarm go off at that hour, combined with turning on a light, showering and getting dressed - well, it was rude. Asking her to jog later was like provoking an angry boar. She had to jog then, and no other time would work for her. She refused to get up without the alarm, the light, or the shower. So after a few weeks of this, the 3 of us had a meeting and decided Olivia had to go. She could talk to the Housing Office and find another place to live, but she couldn't live with us anymore.
Years later, as I watched the first season of MTV's Real World, I felt like I had already done that show in the Chalet. We were strangers in a new place, and having three roommates instead of the usual one magnified all of our attitudes and quirks. Virtually no privacy made it even tougher. If we had any other living situation, dealing with Olivia might have turned out very different. But at the time, we saw no other solution.
We told her the news at a McDonald's off-campus, and she ended up crying and running off to the parking lot. I went out there to talk her down and get her back into the car so we could go home. Over Christmas break, she transferred to a state school in her hometown. Maybe because I was the one who talked to her in the parking lot that night, she decided I wasn't part of the meanies who kicked her out, but for months I got letters and phone calls from her. It was all just idle chit-chat, keeping me posted on her new life. She seemed happier, or else she was determined to show me she was better off at her new school.
Samantha, who had been living across campus, replaced Olivia after the Christmas break. I'll save that story for tomorrow.
4.25.2007
Roommates I have known, Part 2
Debbie
After the Christmas break, Debbie showed up to replace Holly. She was a sophomore on our freshman hall, probably after losing some kind of housing lottery. She had taken a break after her freshman year - the details were sketchy, but I always suspected she had a nervous breakdown. Now after a year and some change, she was back in school.
The first night back, a student group hosted a big Registration Night party for the entire campus. We went to the party together with some hallmates, and I left early, but Debbie didn't come home that night. She had left a number near the phone of some mysterious guy named Todd, and as I was leaving for my 8 am class that morning, I left a message on Todd's answering machine. I didn't know her very well, but I was worried about her and wanted to make sure nothing had happened to my brand-new roommate of exactly one day. She called me shortly after lunch to say she was fine, and to thank me for worrying about her. From then on, she let me know if she would be out all night, which was not often. I felt weird for calling at the time, but these days you never know. There can be some strange people out there.
Speaking of which, Debbie was a drama major. She taught me that actors do not practice; instead, they rehearse. I never understood the distinction, but she repeated it over and over, so maybe she was right. I would read lines with her a lot. She did some one-act shows that I thoroughly enjoyed, and performed in one A.R. Gurney play that I still look for in bookstores.
Debbie was rail-thin, with light brown hair and very dark brown eyes. I have loads of pictures from my freshman year, and Debbie is somehow missing entirely. But she reminded me of a character on Blossom called Six, with her trendy fashion clothes and permed hair. And she was a very thoughtful roommate - I still have some of her little notes or comic strips that she often left for me, encouraging me to do well on a test or to have a good day.
At the end of the year, Debbie & I talked about rooming together again. We lived next door to two girls that we had clicked with, and we decided that the four of us would sign up to live in a sophomore suite together. About a week before the deadline, I found out that Debbie & one of the girls next door had secretly abandoned that plan and signed up to be Freshman Advisors together. FRADs lived on a freshman hall and helped the Resident Advisors. Samantha (the other girl next door) and I were stunned.
So the two of us scrambled to get a room together, and ended up on a very long waiting list. We spent all summer calling the Housing Office to find out our status. As a result of their decision to live together and leave us behind, Samantha & I were thrown into what would become unprecedented housing chaos on our campus. Turns out there was a giant shortage of rooms that year. We cursed Debbie and our neighbor often. Somehow, we manuvered through it all, and Samantha would become not only my roommate, but also one of my very best friends. With the benefit of hindsight, today I can be thankful for all of that chaos.
Late in my sophomore year, I heard Debbie left school again. There were some roommate struggles and grade issues, and perhaps the college experience just wasn't what she wanted it to be. I don't remember staying in touch, but I must have, because a year later, I was invited to her wedding. She got married in her tiny hometown's theater, up on the stage.
I was the only one from our school who showed up. I don't remember who she married. But I vividly recall the flower girl spent the entire ceremony running back and forth on the stage, crying. The reception was small and awkward. It was far too warm to be outdoors, and yet we all were. But I'd never seen her happier or more beautiful. That stage was the perfect setting for Debbie, and she played her role flawlessly that day.
I haven't heard from her since then. I keep meaning to dig up her last name and look her up on IMDB.org, to see if she ever made it big in acting.
After the Christmas break, Debbie showed up to replace Holly. She was a sophomore on our freshman hall, probably after losing some kind of housing lottery. She had taken a break after her freshman year - the details were sketchy, but I always suspected she had a nervous breakdown. Now after a year and some change, she was back in school.
The first night back, a student group hosted a big Registration Night party for the entire campus. We went to the party together with some hallmates, and I left early, but Debbie didn't come home that night. She had left a number near the phone of some mysterious guy named Todd, and as I was leaving for my 8 am class that morning, I left a message on Todd's answering machine. I didn't know her very well, but I was worried about her and wanted to make sure nothing had happened to my brand-new roommate of exactly one day. She called me shortly after lunch to say she was fine, and to thank me for worrying about her. From then on, she let me know if she would be out all night, which was not often. I felt weird for calling at the time, but these days you never know. There can be some strange people out there.
Speaking of which, Debbie was a drama major. She taught me that actors do not practice; instead, they rehearse. I never understood the distinction, but she repeated it over and over, so maybe she was right. I would read lines with her a lot. She did some one-act shows that I thoroughly enjoyed, and performed in one A.R. Gurney play that I still look for in bookstores.
Debbie was rail-thin, with light brown hair and very dark brown eyes. I have loads of pictures from my freshman year, and Debbie is somehow missing entirely. But she reminded me of a character on Blossom called Six, with her trendy fashion clothes and permed hair. And she was a very thoughtful roommate - I still have some of her little notes or comic strips that she often left for me, encouraging me to do well on a test or to have a good day.
At the end of the year, Debbie & I talked about rooming together again. We lived next door to two girls that we had clicked with, and we decided that the four of us would sign up to live in a sophomore suite together. About a week before the deadline, I found out that Debbie & one of the girls next door had secretly abandoned that plan and signed up to be Freshman Advisors together. FRADs lived on a freshman hall and helped the Resident Advisors. Samantha (the other girl next door) and I were stunned.
So the two of us scrambled to get a room together, and ended up on a very long waiting list. We spent all summer calling the Housing Office to find out our status. As a result of their decision to live together and leave us behind, Samantha & I were thrown into what would become unprecedented housing chaos on our campus. Turns out there was a giant shortage of rooms that year. We cursed Debbie and our neighbor often. Somehow, we manuvered through it all, and Samantha would become not only my roommate, but also one of my very best friends. With the benefit of hindsight, today I can be thankful for all of that chaos.
Late in my sophomore year, I heard Debbie left school again. There were some roommate struggles and grade issues, and perhaps the college experience just wasn't what she wanted it to be. I don't remember staying in touch, but I must have, because a year later, I was invited to her wedding. She got married in her tiny hometown's theater, up on the stage.
I was the only one from our school who showed up. I don't remember who she married. But I vividly recall the flower girl spent the entire ceremony running back and forth on the stage, crying. The reception was small and awkward. It was far too warm to be outdoors, and yet we all were. But I'd never seen her happier or more beautiful. That stage was the perfect setting for Debbie, and she played her role flawlessly that day.
I haven't heard from her since then. I keep meaning to dig up her last name and look her up on IMDB.org, to see if she ever made it big in acting.
4.24.2007
Roommates I have known
One of the blogs I read regularly posted an entry about his old college roommates. It's inspired me.
Holly
My first roommate was a blue-eyed, blonde-haired pale girl from Ohio. Both of us came from small church schools, and both of us were a little anxious about our transition to a college campus. We channeled that anxiety into discussing the color theme for our first dorm room. The floors were tiled, but they sold small carpets to fit the room. We spent hours trying to pick a carpet color to match our comforters. Mine: blue with white stripe. Hers: large pink & blue flowers. We settled on a dark rose carpet. We figured it would hide the stains better than beige.
After the dance, some of the guys came back to our hall. Holly was out with some of the girls, so I invited the crowd to hang out in our room. There were about 8 of us in that very small room, playing music and getting to know each other. When she came in later that evening, you'd think she had walked in on a naughty game of Spin the Bottle. Her frosty demeanor threw a chill on the room.
I don't think she ever got over that experience.
But on the whole, she was a pleasant person, although far more conservative than I was. She called me a "Whiskey-palian" as I left for church with a hallmate, which was pretty irritating. And she didn't like my bed lamp. I got down to a 15-watt bulb before the complaints stopped. Little did I know how much a lamp would factor into my college living conditions the next year.
Holly enjoyed the cafeteria more than most of us did. It was as much terrible food as you wanted to eat. One redeeming quality: a soft-serve ice cream machine. The dreaded Freshman 15 was a very real fear for most of us, and after noticing Holly eating two or three cones, some of the girls on our hall took it upon themselves to strictly ration her to one helping per meal. She would sneak an extra cone out of the cafeteria on her way out, but they still caught her. She was teased mercilessly about all that ice cream. I probably should have stood up for her a little more than I did, but I kept thinking, "Three cones, Holly? That's just asking for it."
So I shouldn't have been surprised when Holly told me a week before Christmas vacation that she wasn't coming back. She transferred to her older brother's college closer to home, a Christian college where she wouldn't be allowed to have boys in her room. I sent her a Christmas card when I got home, and never heard from her again.
I wondered if she had any fun at her new school. I hope no one teased her about eating too much.
Holly
My first roommate was a blue-eyed, blonde-haired pale girl from Ohio. Both of us came from small church schools, and both of us were a little anxious about our transition to a college campus. We channeled that anxiety into discussing the color theme for our first dorm room. The floors were tiled, but they sold small carpets to fit the room. We spent hours trying to pick a carpet color to match our comforters. Mine: blue with white stripe. Hers: large pink & blue flowers. We settled on a dark rose carpet. We figured it would hide the stains better than beige.
Rose-colored carpet? Who does that?
Fast-forward to Orientation Week. Each freshman girls' hall matched up with a boys' hall to give us a "brother hall" for the year. That first night on campus, we paired up with a boy from our brother hall for a square dance. In the fall of 1990, as pop was falling out of favor and grunge was knocking on the front door, we were far too cool for square dancing. For some reason I'll never understand, we did it anyway.After the dance, some of the guys came back to our hall. Holly was out with some of the girls, so I invited the crowd to hang out in our room. There were about 8 of us in that very small room, playing music and getting to know each other. When she came in later that evening, you'd think she had walked in on a naughty game of Spin the Bottle. Her frosty demeanor threw a chill on the room.
I don't think she ever got over that experience.
But on the whole, she was a pleasant person, although far more conservative than I was. She called me a "Whiskey-palian" as I left for church with a hallmate, which was pretty irritating. And she didn't like my bed lamp. I got down to a 15-watt bulb before the complaints stopped. Little did I know how much a lamp would factor into my college living conditions the next year.
Holly enjoyed the cafeteria more than most of us did. It was as much terrible food as you wanted to eat. One redeeming quality: a soft-serve ice cream machine. The dreaded Freshman 15 was a very real fear for most of us, and after noticing Holly eating two or three cones, some of the girls on our hall took it upon themselves to strictly ration her to one helping per meal. She would sneak an extra cone out of the cafeteria on her way out, but they still caught her. She was teased mercilessly about all that ice cream. I probably should have stood up for her a little more than I did, but I kept thinking, "Three cones, Holly? That's just asking for it."
So I shouldn't have been surprised when Holly told me a week before Christmas vacation that she wasn't coming back. She transferred to her older brother's college closer to home, a Christian college where she wouldn't be allowed to have boys in her room. I sent her a Christmas card when I got home, and never heard from her again.
I wondered if she had any fun at her new school. I hope no one teased her about eating too much.
4.18.2007
For her next trick, she'll floss her teeth.
Like any good mother, I cut up Helen's food and give it to her in tiny, kid-sized bites. All the experts say parents should do that so they don't choke on their food.
Really, and I'm telling you the God's honest truth here, all it does is encourage Helen to see how many of those little pieces she can fit in her mouth at one time. Turns out IT'S FAR TOO MANY, HELEN.
One night I made corn on the cob, and out of curiousity I handed her a half-cob to see what she'd do with it. It took some explaining, but she finally believed it was corn. She must have thought it always grew in tupperware containers.
After I showed her how to take a bite, she proceeded to eat 2 whole ears all by herself.
Really, and I'm telling you the God's honest truth here, all it does is encourage Helen to see how many of those little pieces she can fit in her mouth at one time. Turns out IT'S FAR TOO MANY, HELEN.
One night I made corn on the cob, and out of curiousity I handed her a half-cob to see what she'd do with it. It took some explaining, but she finally believed it was corn. She must have thought it always grew in tupperware containers.
After I showed her how to take a bite, she proceeded to eat 2 whole ears all by herself.
4.16.2007
Little Backpack
A quick shout-out (with pictures) to Helen's Uncle K., who came back from his Spring Break with a Hello Kitty backpack for her.
I do not have any pictures of Cousin M wearing the backpack, which is a shame, really. He loved that thing.
Ladies, you know nothing goes with a new purse better than a gorgeous new outfit for spring. She even has new sandals, too. You can see she's thrilled about it. (/sarcasm) I'm having a hard time getting her to ever wear the sandals. She really prefers her sneakers.
And here she is, just being a cute kid.
4.12.2007
Munchkin Land
One lazy Sunday, Brian volunteered to pick up lunch for all of us at McDonalds. He came back with a Happy Meal for Helen that had a TOY. The TOY turned out to be a tiny Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, made by Madame Alexander.
My sister had a Madame Alexander doll that was well-loved in its day. She called it "Bah-bee" and took it with her everywhere. She would rock it and put it to sleep in the toy cradle. It was a beautiful little baby doll, albeit a little dirty, and when I saw that Madame Alexander tag on Helen's new TOY, I had to get the entire Wizard of Oz set.
I hopped online to see how many other characters they had. Turns out there were eight, and Tin Man was somewhere in the middle. So I had missed some, and I would have to visit McDonalds often to keep up with the new toys coming out.
That sounded like way too much work. So I went right to Ebay, where I found about a zillion auctions of the entire set, unopened. One had a very reasonable Buy-It-Now price, so I Pay-Pal'd the seller with my lightning quick internet reflexes. Within a week, the dolls arrived. But since we're so diligent about checking the mail around the Wyatt House, we didn't get them until yesterday.
They are just so darn CUTE. It appears the Tin Man is an early favorite with Helen, but I think they're all fantastic. Oh yes, I will be playing with these for the next few days.
In fact, after Helen went to bed last night, I set up a photo session so I could show you the dolls!
Here are the sisters - the Wicked Witches of the East and the West - see the red shoes?
Here's a tiny Munchkin with Glinda, the Good Witch of the North -
Here we have Cowardly Lion and Tin Man. The Lion has a long tail which you can barely see.
And at last, here's Dorothy, and the Scarecrow she'll miss most of all -
I talked with Brian last night about all the characters they could have made. Oh, say for example, I don't know, but maybe the FREAKIN' WIZARD OF OZ. Also, I suggested the Flying Monkey, but Brian told me he wasn't interested in giving Helen nightmares just yet. Good call, Brian.
Little-known fact: when I was about 12, the youth group in my church held a performance of The Wizard of Oz. It's all pretty fuzzy in the memory banks, but I sang one line as the "Munchkin Coroner." (YES, I SANG IN PUBLIC, STOP LAUGHING!!) In case you've forgotten the line, it goes as follows, very heavy on the vibrato:
As Coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her,
And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead!
Please, please hold your applause until the end. Thank you.
I remember watching this movie as a kid, when I must have been about 5 or 6 years old. You all may remember that it used to air once a year, and every kid got to stay up late to watch it. I was in my pajamas, with a big bowl of popcorn. I hid my face in the pillow when the Flying Monkeys showed up. And Mom could do the perfect Wicked Witch cackle, which would make your skin crawl. It's amazing how the scary parts of that movie pop out now, even thought it's nearly 70 years old.
I'll get the DVD someday for Helen to watch. We'll stay up late, with popcorn. And when she comes to me later with a nightmare about a Flying Monkey, I'll know why.
My sister had a Madame Alexander doll that was well-loved in its day. She called it "Bah-bee" and took it with her everywhere. She would rock it and put it to sleep in the toy cradle. It was a beautiful little baby doll, albeit a little dirty, and when I saw that Madame Alexander tag on Helen's new TOY, I had to get the entire Wizard of Oz set.
I hopped online to see how many other characters they had. Turns out there were eight, and Tin Man was somewhere in the middle. So I had missed some, and I would have to visit McDonalds often to keep up with the new toys coming out.
That sounded like way too much work. So I went right to Ebay, where I found about a zillion auctions of the entire set, unopened. One had a very reasonable Buy-It-Now price, so I Pay-Pal'd the seller with my lightning quick internet reflexes. Within a week, the dolls arrived. But since we're so diligent about checking the mail around the Wyatt House, we didn't get them until yesterday.
They are just so darn CUTE. It appears the Tin Man is an early favorite with Helen, but I think they're all fantastic. Oh yes, I will be playing with these for the next few days.
In fact, after Helen went to bed last night, I set up a photo session so I could show you the dolls!
Here are the sisters - the Wicked Witches of the East and the West - see the red shoes?
Here's a tiny Munchkin with Glinda, the Good Witch of the North -
Here we have Cowardly Lion and Tin Man. The Lion has a long tail which you can barely see.
And at last, here's Dorothy, and the Scarecrow she'll miss most of all -
I talked with Brian last night about all the characters they could have made. Oh, say for example, I don't know, but maybe the FREAKIN' WIZARD OF OZ. Also, I suggested the Flying Monkey, but Brian told me he wasn't interested in giving Helen nightmares just yet. Good call, Brian.
Little-known fact: when I was about 12, the youth group in my church held a performance of The Wizard of Oz. It's all pretty fuzzy in the memory banks, but I sang one line as the "Munchkin Coroner." (YES, I SANG IN PUBLIC, STOP LAUGHING!!) In case you've forgotten the line, it goes as follows, very heavy on the vibrato:
As Coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her,
And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead!
Please, please hold your applause until the end. Thank you.
I remember watching this movie as a kid, when I must have been about 5 or 6 years old. You all may remember that it used to air once a year, and every kid got to stay up late to watch it. I was in my pajamas, with a big bowl of popcorn. I hid my face in the pillow when the Flying Monkeys showed up. And Mom could do the perfect Wicked Witch cackle, which would make your skin crawl. It's amazing how the scary parts of that movie pop out now, even thought it's nearly 70 years old.
I'll get the DVD someday for Helen to watch. We'll stay up late, with popcorn. And when she comes to me later with a nightmare about a Flying Monkey, I'll know why.
4.11.2007
Bubbles
Helen got a new toy for spring. Unlike real mowers, it isn't very noisy, it doesn't cut grass, and it makes a lot of bubbles.
She took her new mowing duties very seriously.
Her daddy was very excited about her first lesson in yard work, until she started mowing in circles. We'll have to work on making nice, straight rows.
She took her new mowing duties very seriously.
Her daddy was very excited about her first lesson in yard work, until she started mowing in circles. We'll have to work on making nice, straight rows.
We live next door to some homeowners who've started their own Crabgrass'R'Us store, so we've had to be ever-vigilant with our lawn. Helen's new skills may come in quite handy.
4.10.2007
Kiss Me
Remember Easter morning, when your parents let you have CANDY for BREAKFAST?
Helen had 3 Hershey kisses before I hid the rest of the basket. While she napped, I ate the rest of them. I don't think she'll fall for that trick next year.
And hey, look, mom! It's her Easter dress! With hairbows!
4.09.2007
Mine-field
Two-year olds are something to really admire.
No, really, stay with me here.
They are single-minded in their pursuit of whatever occurs to them at that moment. Juice? Toys? Hair pulling? They have a laser-like focus on it. It's refreshing really, in this world of ADD and 200 channels and drive-through wedding chapels, to find someone who's devoted to carrying out a task from start to finish.
This weekend, the task was "mine." As in, that's mine, what's yours is mine, Mine Mine ALL MINE. Oh, and in case you weren't clear on that, right over there, I don't what it is, but it's MINE!!!!
My sister and I tried teaching them the concept of sharing and taking turns but a toddler will not be deterred for long. Sometimes it worked, but then a few seconds later, they remembered that the toy was MINE and suddenly it's right back to mothers mediating again. They had meltdowns over balls and rocking buffaloes and Legos. I think sippy cups were involved at one point, but I'm not really sure. I've kind of blocked it all out with wine.
So, as long as we had two of something, we were good. Two books, two balls, 800 legos - they played like champions, running around and laughing. I loved watching the sheer joy on their faces as they saw each other in the morning.
The weather did not cooperate this weekend. In fact, like most lawns in our neighborhood, our newly green bushes are now a frozen, withered brown. So instead of taking the kids for a planned outing to the zoo's annual Easter Egg Hunt, we had an Easter Egg Hunt in our living room. Helen got it immediately. She zipped around the room, snatching up eggs. Cousin M sort of trailed along behind, picking up a couple that she missed. He definitely picked up speed in Round 2. I can't wait to see them in an official hunt with a couple hundred more kids.
Later that day, we took the kids to the mall and let them play in the kids' zone near the food court. Then we took them to the bookstore to pick out their own Easter presents. Yes, you read that right. They chose a bunch of books, but when we got home, the books had magically disappeared. Toddlers are SO EASY to fool!
They're also easy to wear out. After two full days of playing, Helen took a FOUR HOUR NAP on Sunday.
Maybe Cousin M can come back next weekend, too!
See if you can spot the kids hiding in all the toys:
Cousin M says the buffalo is MINE:
And Helen's got a BIG smile for everyone here:
No, really, stay with me here.
They are single-minded in their pursuit of whatever occurs to them at that moment. Juice? Toys? Hair pulling? They have a laser-like focus on it. It's refreshing really, in this world of ADD and 200 channels and drive-through wedding chapels, to find someone who's devoted to carrying out a task from start to finish.
This weekend, the task was "mine." As in, that's mine, what's yours is mine, Mine Mine ALL MINE. Oh, and in case you weren't clear on that, right over there, I don't what it is, but it's MINE!!!!
My sister and I tried teaching them the concept of sharing and taking turns but a toddler will not be deterred for long. Sometimes it worked, but then a few seconds later, they remembered that the toy was MINE and suddenly it's right back to mothers mediating again. They had meltdowns over balls and rocking buffaloes and Legos. I think sippy cups were involved at one point, but I'm not really sure. I've kind of blocked it all out with wine.
So, as long as we had two of something, we were good. Two books, two balls, 800 legos - they played like champions, running around and laughing. I loved watching the sheer joy on their faces as they saw each other in the morning.
The weather did not cooperate this weekend. In fact, like most lawns in our neighborhood, our newly green bushes are now a frozen, withered brown. So instead of taking the kids for a planned outing to the zoo's annual Easter Egg Hunt, we had an Easter Egg Hunt in our living room. Helen got it immediately. She zipped around the room, snatching up eggs. Cousin M sort of trailed along behind, picking up a couple that she missed. He definitely picked up speed in Round 2. I can't wait to see them in an official hunt with a couple hundred more kids.
Later that day, we took the kids to the mall and let them play in the kids' zone near the food court. Then we took them to the bookstore to pick out their own Easter presents. Yes, you read that right. They chose a bunch of books, but when we got home, the books had magically disappeared. Toddlers are SO EASY to fool!
They're also easy to wear out. After two full days of playing, Helen took a FOUR HOUR NAP on Sunday.
Maybe Cousin M can come back next weekend, too!
See if you can spot the kids hiding in all the toys:
Cousin M says the buffalo is MINE:
And Helen's got a BIG smile for everyone here:
4.06.2007
TWO toddlers = TWICE the fun
Aunt M. and Cousin M. are visiting us this weekend. They arrived last night and as Cousin M. walked in the door, the two kids shrieked with excitement. They both began running around the house at full speed, with Cousin M. saying "Come on, Helen! Come on!" Occasionally, Helen would stop to scream at the top of her lungs. I had to pull out the typical mom-line, "Helen, inside voices, please." They were just so excited, and it was really fun to watch them so happy together.
Later, after everyone had settled down a bit, the kids started dragging out the toys. At one point, while he was moving them around, Cousin M. tripped and fell, and from the behind the sofa we heard a voice say, "I am OKAY."
My sister and I could NOT. STOP. LAUGHING.
There's lots of Cousin Fun planned for the weekend, if the weather cooperates. I'll be sure to post pictures and hopefully some more good stories, so be sure to check back here on Monday.
And I hope you all are OKAY, too.
Later, after everyone had settled down a bit, the kids started dragging out the toys. At one point, while he was moving them around, Cousin M. tripped and fell, and from the behind the sofa we heard a voice say, "I am OKAY."
My sister and I could NOT. STOP. LAUGHING.
There's lots of Cousin Fun planned for the weekend, if the weather cooperates. I'll be sure to post pictures and hopefully some more good stories, so be sure to check back here on Monday.
And I hope you all are OKAY, too.
4.03.2007
The Long March
Last month, Brian spent a Sunday walking 26.2 miles with a 35-pound backpack.
On purpose.
Several months ago, our Navy friend W. mentioned a marathon march in New Mexico that commemorated the Bataan Death March from World War II. Brian, being male, said "Sure, that sounds great!" He got a pair of boots and a backpack like the military guys wear, and went out for a breezy 6-mile hike near our house.
He came back with no skin on his heels. Seriously.
So, after a trip to the podiatrist and a sporting goods store for hiking shoes, and SEVERAL bandaids later, he continued with the training hikes. He got up to 19 miles before the actual marathon event, and that particular one left him feeble for a few days.
I made lots of jokes about making sure the life insurance was paid up, asking our agent if something called Bataan Memorial DEATH March would invalidate our policy, speculating as to how I would spend the life insurance proceeds, etc. It was endlessly amusing (to me, anyway), and at the same time a little bit worrisome to realize that Brian would be hiking a marathon with a giant pack on his back. Athletic events like this can cause heart attacks, strokes, dehydration and serious sun damage.
So I did what any loving wife would do. I reminded him to use sunscreen.
Brian got to town early to register, but everyone else was getting in late at night. Late arrivals meant very little sleep the night before the race. Everyone knew this ahead of time, and then Brian learned at registration that participants would have a long wait at the security checkpoint before parking on the military base. They recommended leaving the hotel around 3:30 am.
Which meant NO sleep before the race. Optimal, don't you think?
Despite all of this, they managed to have a good time. No bad attitudes, no complaining, just set out and hike and get it done. And all three guys finished the race. W. called me afterwards to mention that I shouldn't go spending the life insurance just yet. A few days later, Brian came back with gorgeous pictures, aching calves, and a strong desire to do this again next year.
(I mentioned the part about him being male, right?)
This is W. and T. setting out at first light - W. has the orange camelback:
On purpose.
Several months ago, our Navy friend W. mentioned a marathon march in New Mexico that commemorated the Bataan Death March from World War II. Brian, being male, said "Sure, that sounds great!" He got a pair of boots and a backpack like the military guys wear, and went out for a breezy 6-mile hike near our house.
He came back with no skin on his heels. Seriously.
So, after a trip to the podiatrist and a sporting goods store for hiking shoes, and SEVERAL bandaids later, he continued with the training hikes. He got up to 19 miles before the actual marathon event, and that particular one left him feeble for a few days.
I made lots of jokes about making sure the life insurance was paid up, asking our agent if something called Bataan Memorial DEATH March would invalidate our policy, speculating as to how I would spend the life insurance proceeds, etc. It was endlessly amusing (to me, anyway), and at the same time a little bit worrisome to realize that Brian would be hiking a marathon with a giant pack on his back. Athletic events like this can cause heart attacks, strokes, dehydration and serious sun damage.
So I did what any loving wife would do. I reminded him to use sunscreen.
Brian got to town early to register, but everyone else was getting in late at night. Late arrivals meant very little sleep the night before the race. Everyone knew this ahead of time, and then Brian learned at registration that participants would have a long wait at the security checkpoint before parking on the military base. They recommended leaving the hotel around 3:30 am.
Which meant NO sleep before the race. Optimal, don't you think?
Despite all of this, they managed to have a good time. No bad attitudes, no complaining, just set out and hike and get it done. And all three guys finished the race. W. called me afterwards to mention that I shouldn't go spending the life insurance just yet. A few days later, Brian came back with gorgeous pictures, aching calves, and a strong desire to do this again next year.
(I mentioned the part about him being male, right?)
This is W. and T. setting out at first light - W. has the orange camelback:
This is a bagpiper that kept up with them for the first 7 miles, without a break:
This is my favorite picture - I love the view in the distance, and all of the footprints in the dirt:
4.02.2007
Trouble, with a capital T
This morning, I came in to get Helen out of her crib. As I leaned in to pick her up, I noticed her bare bottom. It's cute and adorable, in that special way that only baby bottoms are, but it also means something very important is missing.
I found her diaper on the floor next to her crib. The bars are pretty close together, so she had to either stand up and toss it over the side, or shove it between the bars. In other words, it didn't just FALL off and SLIP OUT of the crib.
So I (naively) asked, "Helen, did you take off your diaper?" She looked up at me with a big grin and said, "No-oooo."
I think this is where the robot starts screaming "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!"
I found her diaper on the floor next to her crib. The bars are pretty close together, so she had to either stand up and toss it over the side, or shove it between the bars. In other words, it didn't just FALL off and SLIP OUT of the crib.
So I (naively) asked, "Helen, did you take off your diaper?" She looked up at me with a big grin and said, "No-oooo."
I think this is where the robot starts screaming "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!"
The one where I get teary-eyed
I went to our local pizza place on Sunday night to pick up dinner, and discovered that's when the local high school shows up to eat together.
The noise hit me in the parking lot. But I waded in, knowing that I had a to-go order ready and waiting.
The line was a mile long. I got nervous that our pizza would be cold toast by the time I paid for it. But an alert cashier herded me up to the secret extra register, ahead of all the teenagers. As I stood in line, Helen watched everyone. She didn't even seem fazed by the decibel level. I guess it's nothing compared to a room full of 2-year olds.
I literally got antsy just standing there, waiting in all of that crowded noise. I wanted to pay and leave and just breathe. Finally, I scored my pizza and as I headed out, another older lady was taking her pizza to go, too. We both smiled as we made it out of the door. "Wow, that was crazy, huh?" I said to her as I headed to my car. "I thought I had it rough today with a fussy toddler, but that was so much louder."
"It won't be long until she's one of them," she replied, pointing to Helen.
I recoiled in horror. Helen? A teenager? NO WAY.
And then it occurred to me, YES WAY. She's getting older every single day, and one morning I'm going to wake up and take her to the nail salon so she can get a manicure for her prom. I'm going to freak out when I look at her, all dressed up and ready to go. When she trips a little coming down the stairs in her high heels, I'm going to remember the time she first crawled up those stairs. Or the first pair of shoes I bought her. Or all the times I put her hair in pigtails.
I'm also going to be wondering why Brian is muttering in the corner, cleaning that shotgun.
But really, she's growing FAST. I see little babies at daycare and can barely remember bringing her at that age. I've looked at hundreds of pictures of her during that first year and it's such a blur. None of it seems real. Did we actually buy a house and paint and put in new carpet and move in, while I held her the entire time? The second year is whizzing by even faster. Talking, potty training, Barbie. There it goes. Don't blink!
So my question is this: if I buy her prom dress now, will it cost me less because of inflation, or will it cost me more, because geez Mom, that's like, SO not the style right now? (eyes roll, heavy sigh) Because at this rate, it'll feel like she needs it next year.
The noise hit me in the parking lot. But I waded in, knowing that I had a to-go order ready and waiting.
The line was a mile long. I got nervous that our pizza would be cold toast by the time I paid for it. But an alert cashier herded me up to the secret extra register, ahead of all the teenagers. As I stood in line, Helen watched everyone. She didn't even seem fazed by the decibel level. I guess it's nothing compared to a room full of 2-year olds.
I literally got antsy just standing there, waiting in all of that crowded noise. I wanted to pay and leave and just breathe. Finally, I scored my pizza and as I headed out, another older lady was taking her pizza to go, too. We both smiled as we made it out of the door. "Wow, that was crazy, huh?" I said to her as I headed to my car. "I thought I had it rough today with a fussy toddler, but that was so much louder."
"It won't be long until she's one of them," she replied, pointing to Helen.
I recoiled in horror. Helen? A teenager? NO WAY.
And then it occurred to me, YES WAY. She's getting older every single day, and one morning I'm going to wake up and take her to the nail salon so she can get a manicure for her prom. I'm going to freak out when I look at her, all dressed up and ready to go. When she trips a little coming down the stairs in her high heels, I'm going to remember the time she first crawled up those stairs. Or the first pair of shoes I bought her. Or all the times I put her hair in pigtails.
I'm also going to be wondering why Brian is muttering in the corner, cleaning that shotgun.
But really, she's growing FAST. I see little babies at daycare and can barely remember bringing her at that age. I've looked at hundreds of pictures of her during that first year and it's such a blur. None of it seems real. Did we actually buy a house and paint and put in new carpet and move in, while I held her the entire time? The second year is whizzing by even faster. Talking, potty training, Barbie. There it goes. Don't blink!
So my question is this: if I buy her prom dress now, will it cost me less because of inflation, or will it cost me more, because geez Mom, that's like, SO not the style right now? (eyes roll, heavy sigh) Because at this rate, it'll feel like she needs it next year.
3.26.2007
Moving Up
Friends of ours were on TV this weekend! One of Brian's groomsmen from our wedding, along with his wife & son, appeared in an episode of TLC's "Moving Up."
The basic premise is that two couples buy new homes and spend 3 months with a film crew, renovating the houses. Then the former owners come back to see what you've done with the place. The viewings are all filmed so the new owners see what the old owners said.
Our friends run a business called Nashville Ghost Tours, and the show took the opportunity to let them run with a spooky theme in one of the rooms. This FREAKED OUT the former homeowners. They asked if our friends were Satan worshippers! Ha. (The answer is: only on weekends.)
In the meantime, the former owners of our friends' home are a pair of newlyweds, each with a child they brought into the marriage. They're finally getting their first place together, only to discover serious structural issues in the kitchen. Budget problems force some tough choices, and there doesn't appear to be a lot of good interaction between them during the show.
The scuttlebutt is that they were on the verge of divorce during the renovations. For anyone who's made some improvements to their own home, I'm sure you're familiar with the stress that kind of work can cause a marriage. The premiere of the show has been delayed for months, and then our friends recently heard they're now divorced. It's a shame, and I can't help but wonder if they would have made it without the stress of the renovations or the pressure to perform for the cameras. There are bits and pieces of the episode that definitely serve as foreshadowing. I wonder how hard it was for them to watch it this weekend as it aired for the first time.
In the meantime, watching our friends try to handle homeownership for the first time was hilarious. Before they got started, they bought books to try to learn as much as possible. Everything from how to paint - or more importantly, how to tape up trim BEFORE painting. How to remove a toilet. How to break up tile. How to lay hardwood floor. All of their talent, or lack thereof, was on national television for everyone to see. I think it served as the much-needed comic relief in the episode.
See here for details on the next viewing of the episode. See here for details about Nashville Ghost Tours. TLC used some footage of our friend in his tour guide costume in the episode. If you're ever in town, be sure to put the tour on your list of things to do.
The basic premise is that two couples buy new homes and spend 3 months with a film crew, renovating the houses. Then the former owners come back to see what you've done with the place. The viewings are all filmed so the new owners see what the old owners said.
Our friends run a business called Nashville Ghost Tours, and the show took the opportunity to let them run with a spooky theme in one of the rooms. This FREAKED OUT the former homeowners. They asked if our friends were Satan worshippers! Ha. (The answer is: only on weekends.)
In the meantime, the former owners of our friends' home are a pair of newlyweds, each with a child they brought into the marriage. They're finally getting their first place together, only to discover serious structural issues in the kitchen. Budget problems force some tough choices, and there doesn't appear to be a lot of good interaction between them during the show.
The scuttlebutt is that they were on the verge of divorce during the renovations. For anyone who's made some improvements to their own home, I'm sure you're familiar with the stress that kind of work can cause a marriage. The premiere of the show has been delayed for months, and then our friends recently heard they're now divorced. It's a shame, and I can't help but wonder if they would have made it without the stress of the renovations or the pressure to perform for the cameras. There are bits and pieces of the episode that definitely serve as foreshadowing. I wonder how hard it was for them to watch it this weekend as it aired for the first time.
In the meantime, watching our friends try to handle homeownership for the first time was hilarious. Before they got started, they bought books to try to learn as much as possible. Everything from how to paint - or more importantly, how to tape up trim BEFORE painting. How to remove a toilet. How to break up tile. How to lay hardwood floor. All of their talent, or lack thereof, was on national television for everyone to see. I think it served as the much-needed comic relief in the episode.
See here for details on the next viewing of the episode. See here for details about Nashville Ghost Tours. TLC used some footage of our friend in his tour guide costume in the episode. If you're ever in town, be sure to put the tour on your list of things to do.
3.21.2007
3.20.2007
Independence
In stark contrast to the entry below, Helen sometimes decides that she can do something on her own. Not knowing when she needs help, and when her head will start spinning furiously in circles, is a little bit scary.
For example, these days she wants to climb into her high chair. She's been pretty good at it, but when her shoes get in the way, she gets stuck. Then I try to help her sit down. Sometimes she is okay with that. Other times she screams so loudly, I think the neighbors must be dialing DHS.
During one of the screaming jags this weekend, I was reminded of an amusing blog entry by Mimi Smartypants that I read shortly after Helen was born. MS has a small child named Nora who is darling and quite smart. Now that Helen is racing toward her 2nd birthday, I thought I'd share this memorable bit of the entry with you all:
Nora was going through my purse and found something.
Nora: What is this?
Me: That's my business card.
Nora: Where's Nora's business card?
Me: Oh, I don't think you have a business card!
Nora: I have business card? I have business card right now? Please?
We moved on to other topics and she forgot all about it, but ever since I have been wondering what a two-year-old's business card would say. In Nora's case, I'm thinking something like
For example, these days she wants to climb into her high chair. She's been pretty good at it, but when her shoes get in the way, she gets stuck. Then I try to help her sit down. Sometimes she is okay with that. Other times she screams so loudly, I think the neighbors must be dialing DHS.
During one of the screaming jags this weekend, I was reminded of an amusing blog entry by Mimi Smartypants that I read shortly after Helen was born. MS has a small child named Nora who is darling and quite smart. Now that Helen is racing toward her 2nd birthday, I thought I'd share this memorable bit of the entry with you all:
Nora was going through my purse and found something.
Nora: What is this?
Me: That's my business card.
Nora: Where's Nora's business card?
Me: Oh, I don't think you have a business card!
Nora: I have business card? I have business card right now? Please?
We moved on to other topics and she forgot all about it, but ever since I have been wondering what a two-year-old's business card would say. In Nora's case, I'm thinking something like
NORA!
Nora do it.
Nora do it.
Nora do it.
BY HERSELF!
(phone number)
Nora do it.
Nora do it.
Nora do it.
BY HERSELF!
(phone number)
3.16.2007
An S.O.S.
Last night Helen had a hard time eating her orange Jello with a spoon. She got a little bit of it on the spoon, brought it up to her mouth, then the Jello slid off and she ate a spoonful of nothing.
She LOVES to eat Jello, but she's at the age now where she really wants to eat with a spoon. So she held up the spoon and said, "Help. Help. Help."
It melted my heart, it really did. I put some Jello on the spoon and she leaned down to eat it. We finished the plateful with me feeding her, and she was happy.
I realized at that moment, even though I have the pictures of my pregnant body, and I was in the room and I know I delivered a baby, this child is so unlike me. I NEVER ask for help. Even if I need it desperately and someone's offering, I usually refuse. It amazed me that she tried once, maybe twice, and then she said, "Help. Help. Help." I don't know how to do that.
Sometimes I honestly wish I could be more like that little girl.
She LOVES to eat Jello, but she's at the age now where she really wants to eat with a spoon. So she held up the spoon and said, "Help. Help. Help."
It melted my heart, it really did. I put some Jello on the spoon and she leaned down to eat it. We finished the plateful with me feeding her, and she was happy.
I realized at that moment, even though I have the pictures of my pregnant body, and I was in the room and I know I delivered a baby, this child is so unlike me. I NEVER ask for help. Even if I need it desperately and someone's offering, I usually refuse. It amazed me that she tried once, maybe twice, and then she said, "Help. Help. Help." I don't know how to do that.
Sometimes I honestly wish I could be more like that little girl.
3.08.2007
Big Smiles
Helen has begun to recognize the camera and now demands to have her picture taken. This morning I ended up with about 7 pictures of her before she decided the photo session was over.
This is the best-focused of the bunch, and it's a great example of the Happy Camper I get up with every morning:
She doesn't have to mainline caffeine to smile like that in the morning. Disgusting, isn't it?
This is the best-focused of the bunch, and it's a great example of the Happy Camper I get up with every morning:
She doesn't have to mainline caffeine to smile like that in the morning. Disgusting, isn't it?
3.05.2007
And she meant it.
On Sunday night Helen handed me a DVD case and asked me to open it for her. It was an old movie of Michael Keaton's called "Johnny Dangerously." I was pretty sure Helen didn't want to watch it, but might prefer a Muppet DVD instead. As I opened the case, I tried to lead the conversation in that direction.
Me: Helen, do you know what this DVD is called?
Helen: (grabbing the disc from me) MINE!!!
Truer words were never spoken.
Me: Helen, do you know what this DVD is called?
Helen: (grabbing the disc from me) MINE!!!
Truer words were never spoken.
3.02.2007
My very own howler monkey
Brian & I talked to our Navy friend W. last night. He very kindly offered me some advice on getting Helen to sleep at a decent hour.
His advice was inspired by a movie called "The Rundown" starring The Rock and Seann William Scott.
I haven't seen this movie, but Will described the crucial scene to me. The Rock and Seann are in the jungle, caught in one of those classic rope traps hidden under a pile of leaves. They're dangling upside down by their ankles from a sturdy tree branch, way up high, when a howler monkey from a nearby tree attacks The Rock. Seann screams, "Establish dominance! Establish dominance!"
For clarity, there's a picture from the scene here.
Anyway, that's Will's advice to me. Establish dominance.
Trouble is, I think that's Helen's approach as well.
His advice was inspired by a movie called "The Rundown" starring The Rock and Seann William Scott.
I haven't seen this movie, but Will described the crucial scene to me. The Rock and Seann are in the jungle, caught in one of those classic rope traps hidden under a pile of leaves. They're dangling upside down by their ankles from a sturdy tree branch, way up high, when a howler monkey from a nearby tree attacks The Rock. Seann screams, "Establish dominance! Establish dominance!"
For clarity, there's a picture from the scene here.
Anyway, that's Will's advice to me. Establish dominance.
Trouble is, I think that's Helen's approach as well.
3.01.2007
Just tell me where to mail it
My sister got a new puppy last month - a gorgeous Labrador Retriever named Shadow:
My family has used the same veternarian since I was 7 years old. So my sister didn't even think twice about where to take the puppy for his first appointment.
I think it always takes our vet by surprise to see us in his office. We must perpetually live on as those same little children in his head. Then we show up with our own pets and families, plus our own checkbook to pay for the visit. It has to be startling him to spin the years by that quickly.
I called my sister to chat today. She was in the backyard with the puppy and my nephew, trying to get the dog to finish his business before they spent the afternoon trapped inside by tornadoes. I could hear my nephew whooping & hollering the background, and every so often, my sister would stop to tell him it was not okay to feed the puppy those rocks. Or to throw the rocks over the fence. Or to run with the rocks. In general, he should leave the rocks alone entirely. You get the idea.
Anyway, my sister told me that the vet and my brother-in-law had hit it off at the appointment. They talked big truck tires and enjoyed every minute of it.
Today, the vet called her to check on him. (the puppy, not my brother-in-law.)
My sister said, "Want a dog?"
Apparently Shadow was all a-twitter with the approaching severe weather, and was making a complete ninny of himself in the backyard. He was nipping at my nephew, he was running away from my sister, and he was doing everything EXCEPT the specific item on the agenda he was there to do.
When you throw in a rowdy little boy who was guilty of aiding and abetting the puppy, I had one very frazzled sister on the phone.
I think if the vet had called 15 minutes later, he would have gotten a free toddler, too.
My family has used the same veternarian since I was 7 years old. So my sister didn't even think twice about where to take the puppy for his first appointment.
I think it always takes our vet by surprise to see us in his office. We must perpetually live on as those same little children in his head. Then we show up with our own pets and families, plus our own checkbook to pay for the visit. It has to be startling him to spin the years by that quickly.
I called my sister to chat today. She was in the backyard with the puppy and my nephew, trying to get the dog to finish his business before they spent the afternoon trapped inside by tornadoes. I could hear my nephew whooping & hollering the background, and every so often, my sister would stop to tell him it was not okay to feed the puppy those rocks. Or to throw the rocks over the fence. Or to run with the rocks. In general, he should leave the rocks alone entirely. You get the idea.
Anyway, my sister told me that the vet and my brother-in-law had hit it off at the appointment. They talked big truck tires and enjoyed every minute of it.
Today, the vet called her to check on him. (the puppy, not my brother-in-law.)
My sister said, "Want a dog?"
Apparently Shadow was all a-twitter with the approaching severe weather, and was making a complete ninny of himself in the backyard. He was nipping at my nephew, he was running away from my sister, and he was doing everything EXCEPT the specific item on the agenda he was there to do.
When you throw in a rowdy little boy who was guilty of aiding and abetting the puppy, I had one very frazzled sister on the phone.
I think if the vet had called 15 minutes later, he would have gotten a free toddler, too.
2.28.2007
Sleep is for the birds
Helen's transition to the new toddler room has produced an unexpected side effect. Namely, that she wants to stay up late. I usually put her to sleep between 7:30 and 8:00. The past couple of weeks, she wouldn't go until 9:00. This week, I got her to go down at 11:30. That's rough on everyone, but especially her when she's still asleep in the morning and I'm ready to leave for work.
I think she’s forming a Toddler Union. It's obvious. The whiny demands of a toddler who won't be ignored, going on a hunger strike at random meals, secret meetings with other toddlers while I'm at work - plus all those posters and picket signs hidden under her crib.
If this new bedtime goes on much longer, I may file have to a grievance with the shop steward. Waiting until contract time to talk about it will take far too long, and I’d just end up losing a lot of cheese and apples and milk in the negotiating.
So we’ve been discussing it nightly.
Me: (rocking Helen, who has a pacifier and a bottle) Go to sleep, Helen.
Helen: (takes bottle out of mouth, smiles) Hi, mommy!
Me: (grits teeth) It’s time for sleep, Helen.
Helen: (throws pacifier)
Me: (looks at clock and sighs)
I think she’s forming a Toddler Union. It's obvious. The whiny demands of a toddler who won't be ignored, going on a hunger strike at random meals, secret meetings with other toddlers while I'm at work - plus all those posters and picket signs hidden under her crib.
If this new bedtime goes on much longer, I may file have to a grievance with the shop steward. Waiting until contract time to talk about it will take far too long, and I’d just end up losing a lot of cheese and apples and milk in the negotiating.
So we’ve been discussing it nightly.
Me: (rocking Helen, who has a pacifier and a bottle) Go to sleep, Helen.
Helen: (takes bottle out of mouth, smiles) Hi, mommy!
Me: (grits teeth) It’s time for sleep, Helen.
Helen: (throws pacifier)
Me: (looks at clock and sighs)
2.27.2007
A new toy
Brian's been ordering car parts like a maniac since the 1966 Mustang came back from the paint shop.
For those of you who don't know, there's a car that's been part of our lives, weekends, and garage since early 2005. It belongs to a friend in New Orleans who kindly allowed Brian to take on a new project. Brian has taken the entire thing apart to restore it.
The car has spent a lot of time sitting in a body shop or a paint shop, waiting for busy people to get around to working on it. So it hasn't lived in our garage the entire time. But the pieces are everywhere in our house. Seats in the guest room. Glass in the closet. Dashboard gauges on the kitchen table. Stacks of Mustang magazines and car part catalogs and mechanic manuals everywhere.
Now that the body and paint work are both done, all that's left is to put it back together.
That sentence implies a certain amount of simplicity. Really, there's still some significant stuff left to do, not to mention interpreting a few diagrams in the manual that look suspiciously like Helen's artwork. But everything is (slowly) coming together.
Last week, new chrome trim parts arrived at the house.
They were packed in a not-insignificant amount of bubble wrap. Brian took it apart, set it aside, and later that evening at dinner he told Helen about the "bubbles."
It's now one of Brian's favorite words to get Helen to say. She pronounces it "buh-bullsh."
Any bubble-wrap popping addicts out there? (Mom, raise your hand. Higher.)
Meet the newest one in the family:
For those of you who don't know, there's a car that's been part of our lives, weekends, and garage since early 2005. It belongs to a friend in New Orleans who kindly allowed Brian to take on a new project. Brian has taken the entire thing apart to restore it.
The car has spent a lot of time sitting in a body shop or a paint shop, waiting for busy people to get around to working on it. So it hasn't lived in our garage the entire time. But the pieces are everywhere in our house. Seats in the guest room. Glass in the closet. Dashboard gauges on the kitchen table. Stacks of Mustang magazines and car part catalogs and mechanic manuals everywhere.
Now that the body and paint work are both done, all that's left is to put it back together.
That sentence implies a certain amount of simplicity. Really, there's still some significant stuff left to do, not to mention interpreting a few diagrams in the manual that look suspiciously like Helen's artwork. But everything is (slowly) coming together.
Last week, new chrome trim parts arrived at the house.
They were packed in a not-insignificant amount of bubble wrap. Brian took it apart, set it aside, and later that evening at dinner he told Helen about the "bubbles."
It's now one of Brian's favorite words to get Helen to say. She pronounces it "buh-bullsh."
Any bubble-wrap popping addicts out there? (Mom, raise your hand. Higher.)
Meet the newest one in the family:
2.24.2007
Segway RULES
Click here to check out the hot Segway action from last weekend.
The video is only about a minute long, and Helen screams through the whole thing. She was highly peeved that I stepped away from mothering her for that one minute. I was within 10 feet of her the whole time, in plain sight, but you wouldn't know it from the decibel level she managed tosingle-handedly produce.
Dear Reader, welcome to my world.
In the meantime, I managed to one-up George Bush and NOT fall flat on my face. Extra bonus points for me.
Let me know in the comments if you have any trouble viewing the video.
The video is only about a minute long, and Helen screams through the whole thing. She was highly peeved that I stepped away from mothering her for that one minute. I was within 10 feet of her the whole time, in plain sight, but you wouldn't know it from the decibel level she managed tosingle-handedly produce.
Dear Reader, welcome to my world.
In the meantime, I managed to one-up George Bush and NOT fall flat on my face. Extra bonus points for me.
Let me know in the comments if you have any trouble viewing the video.
2.22.2007
Legal Ramifications
Last night, after putting Helen in her crib, I was heading back to the living room to catch the end of an exciting basketball game, when I fell down the stairs. About halfway down, my bare foot skidded on the carpet and flew off the stair. I lost my balance, and fell on my back and left leg. It brought a quick tear to my eye. I tried not to scream because, you know, heaven forbid I wake up Helen! But I did yelp loudly enough to startle Brian out of his chair.
Since I was the clumsy kid in the family, you won't be surprised to hear that's not the first time I've fallen on the stairs. Once or twice with Helen, even. And it's really painful - I actually rug-burned a big spot my back the last time, and the mark is only just now starting to fade.
I winced a little getting out of bed this morning, and I've already got a nice bruise on my thigh. So I went to the site supervisor and asked about filing a worker's comp claim. I was picturing a couple of days off from the daily grind, making sure I didn't strain my back and that I gave the bruise some time to heal properly.
Get this - the site supervisor said I had already punched out for the day at the crib! Since I wasn't on the clock, I didn't qualify for worker's comp.
Hmmm. Not on the clock, eh? So when Helen woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning, I could have gotten overtime?
That trip downstairs from Helen's room was not part of my commute home from work. I may have to get a lawyer involved to get this claim pushed through.
Since I was the clumsy kid in the family, you won't be surprised to hear that's not the first time I've fallen on the stairs. Once or twice with Helen, even. And it's really painful - I actually rug-burned a big spot my back the last time, and the mark is only just now starting to fade.
I winced a little getting out of bed this morning, and I've already got a nice bruise on my thigh. So I went to the site supervisor and asked about filing a worker's comp claim. I was picturing a couple of days off from the daily grind, making sure I didn't strain my back and that I gave the bruise some time to heal properly.
Get this - the site supervisor said I had already punched out for the day at the crib! Since I wasn't on the clock, I didn't qualify for worker's comp.
Hmmm. Not on the clock, eh? So when Helen woke up at 4:00 a.m. this morning, I could have gotten overtime?
That trip downstairs from Helen's room was not part of my commute home from work. I may have to get a lawyer involved to get this claim pushed through.
2.19.2007
She Blinded Me with SCIENCE
This weekend Helen and I drove south for a little visit with the extended family. It was her cousin M's birthday, and we celebrated with a trip to the local science museum for kids.
Now, you may be asking yourself, what in the world could a child under the age of 2 (as far as the admissions clerk at the counter knows) do at a science museum? You would be surprised. It's fully loaded with kid-friendly stuff they can't break. They get to TOUCH EVERYTHING. For a kid, I don't think there's a better day to be had. So what if I can't explain basic science principles to her yet? "Wait a second, I can touch this and you won't tell me NO?" That rocked her world.
We started with the giant game of Mousetrap, where the tiny wooden balls roll around on tracks and levers. It's mesmerizing for adults and kids alike:
Then we figured out how lightweight plastic balls float on water - did you know it's just a giant game of "get my sleeves soaking wet"?
The kids ran around for about 2-3 hours, loving everything they saw, and we enjoyed it, too. My sister and I had an especially good giggle at this exhibit:
But the big highlight of the day for the grownups? We got to ride a Segway! I have video of my journey, and once I figure out how to post it here, I'll put a link up for everyone to see.
And a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY! to Cousin M. He's turned the big T-W-O! It's a momentous occasion. He's so mature for his age - speaking in complete sentences, and sharing his toys like a champ. So I'm guessing the giant meltdowns and temper tantrums will commence in 5, 4, 3 ...
2.12.2007
Here's What's Cooking
For Christmas, my mother gave me a cooking class. It turned out to be a 3-course Valentine's Date Night meal for couples at the local chef store. You know, the place with the monster gas stoves and every utensil you never knew you needed.
The class was a few hours on Saturday afternoon, so we got a sitter for Helen, and I got all dolled up to go cook something other than macaroni & cheese.
The kitchen was full with six couples and two chefs. Each couple was paired up with another couple, so once we had our instructions, the four of us stood around looking at each other, like "who's gonna separate the yolks?"
All different skill levels were represented. I felt kind of sorry for the couple we cooked with. Chopping fresh veggies presented a major problem for both of them. Either they eat out A LOT, or they must be pretty good at heating stuff in the microwave.
The class was a few hours on Saturday afternoon, so we got a sitter for Helen, and I got all dolled up to go cook something other than macaroni & cheese.
The kitchen was full with six couples and two chefs. Each couple was paired up with another couple, so once we had our instructions, the four of us stood around looking at each other, like "who's gonna separate the yolks?"
All different skill levels were represented. I felt kind of sorry for the couple we cooked with. Chopping fresh veggies presented a major problem for both of them. Either they eat out A LOT, or they must be pretty good at heating stuff in the microwave.
Another group just let one girl do everything. She chopped green onions like one of those fancy cooking shows where everything flashes by so fast, it's a little scary. I was jealous of her, wishing I could use a knife like that.
Brian & I made a vinaigrette for a DELICIOUS spinach salad with dried cherries, toasted walnuts & blue cheese. We also made lump crab cakes with a yummy avocado salsa, and butterfly shrimp (breaded & fried) with a tangy aeoli sauce. There was also a beef tenderloin not really worth mentioning, but the dessert was creme brulee.
We were supposed to use their kitchen torches to make our own caramelized sugar, but the torches weren't working. None of them would stay lit long enough. The chefs said they never use those little kitchen torches in restaurants, and they don't really recommend them for home use, either. One of them worked in a restaurant with 3 different flavors of creme brulee every night (!), and they used a real blowtorch. At that point, several of the guys in the class offered to head down to the hardware store to pick one up.
After watching them struggle to get the sugar browned for us, and then enjoying that delicious dessert, I realized maybe a blowtorch for Christmas wasn't such a bad idea after all.
In all, the class took just over 3 hours, including the dining portion where we all made yummy noises. Obviously we don't have that kind of time at home to cook with Helen around (when we get home from daycare, she throws off her jacket and says "Eat!"), but it was good to see how easy it is to make some of these things.
We'll definitely have those crab cakes again soon.
2.06.2007
Helen and the Pacifier
On this blog, there are several pictures of Helen using a pacifier. For many parents, a pacifier is something of a godsend, while some see it as a necessary evil, and for others it's just plain evil. I can actually see all sides of the argument. From the day Helen was born, I actually encouraged her to take the pacifier, and she did very well with it. The first couple of months of an infant's life are typically fraught with gas pains and sleepless nights, and to top it off we had an early delivery, so if there's one thing she could take comfort in, I gladly provided it.
A friend gave us the pacifier as a gift in a bag full of baby stuff. It's a style of pacifier that I'd never seen before, and have spent Helen's entire life tracking down replacements at Target. Sort of a butterfly shape, it looked far too big on her as a baby. For a short time, she preferred it upside down. She eventually grew into it, and needed it more often than not. Especially on car rides, that pacifier became a crucial component of our lives. Everything comes to a screeching halt when you look for a pacifier. Not having it usually means a crying fit until it's located. But when that crying stops - ah, what bliss.
In January, Helen moved up to a new room at her daycare. It's a little early for this transition to a full-blown toddler room, but I've requested it because Helen is talking A LOT, and also eating with a spoon. It may not sound like much to anyone except her proud parents, but these two skills put her well ahead of her entire class. I wanted to make sure she was in a room full of kids already doing the same things.
As a bonus, it's a room full of new kids to teach her fire-alarm pulling skills.
But very quickly, we had a run-in with the teachers over the pacifier. It turns out that in the baby rooms, Helen got her pacifier at naptime, and at "stressful" times during the day. Essentially if she asked for it, her teachers gave it to her. I picked her up every evening and 4 days out of 5, she'd have it.
In the new room, however, it's a rule in our state that kids can't walk around with pacifiers. They can have them at naptime, but that's it. Because I let her have it at home as much as she wants, it was tough to go to daycare and play by different rules. Frankly, I was pretty skeptical about this law. But I sighed and made the effort to change it up this weekend. We put the pacifier away at a time in the morning when she wasn't looking for it, and kept it hidden all day except for her naptime and bedtime. Two days in a row. I was fearing the worst.
She didn't even notice.
I'm serious. It's like, "Pacifier? I didn't need it that much. Whatever, mom."
I remember the pacifier song she sang every night as an infant as I rocked her to sleep - holding it up, singing to it, then putting it back in her mouth, sometimes continuing to hum a little with it in her mouth. (My mom said I did the same thing as a baby.) Or when Helen wasn't quite through giving me grief over something, but she had the paci in her mouth - she'd sort of grunt and fuss behind it. Oh, how I laughed at that early version of backtalk.
When she's crying, it's so easy to hand her something that stops the crying 95% of the time. Do you have anything that works so well in your life? Don't you wish you did, just a little bit?
Maybe I'll have a harder time letting go of the pacifier than Helen will.
A friend gave us the pacifier as a gift in a bag full of baby stuff. It's a style of pacifier that I'd never seen before, and have spent Helen's entire life tracking down replacements at Target. Sort of a butterfly shape, it looked far too big on her as a baby. For a short time, she preferred it upside down. She eventually grew into it, and needed it more often than not. Especially on car rides, that pacifier became a crucial component of our lives. Everything comes to a screeching halt when you look for a pacifier. Not having it usually means a crying fit until it's located. But when that crying stops - ah, what bliss.
In January, Helen moved up to a new room at her daycare. It's a little early for this transition to a full-blown toddler room, but I've requested it because Helen is talking A LOT, and also eating with a spoon. It may not sound like much to anyone except her proud parents, but these two skills put her well ahead of her entire class. I wanted to make sure she was in a room full of kids already doing the same things.
As a bonus, it's a room full of new kids to teach her fire-alarm pulling skills.
But very quickly, we had a run-in with the teachers over the pacifier. It turns out that in the baby rooms, Helen got her pacifier at naptime, and at "stressful" times during the day. Essentially if she asked for it, her teachers gave it to her. I picked her up every evening and 4 days out of 5, she'd have it.
In the new room, however, it's a rule in our state that kids can't walk around with pacifiers. They can have them at naptime, but that's it. Because I let her have it at home as much as she wants, it was tough to go to daycare and play by different rules. Frankly, I was pretty skeptical about this law. But I sighed and made the effort to change it up this weekend. We put the pacifier away at a time in the morning when she wasn't looking for it, and kept it hidden all day except for her naptime and bedtime. Two days in a row. I was fearing the worst.
She didn't even notice.
I'm serious. It's like, "Pacifier? I didn't need it that much. Whatever, mom."
I remember the pacifier song she sang every night as an infant as I rocked her to sleep - holding it up, singing to it, then putting it back in her mouth, sometimes continuing to hum a little with it in her mouth. (My mom said I did the same thing as a baby.) Or when Helen wasn't quite through giving me grief over something, but she had the paci in her mouth - she'd sort of grunt and fuss behind it. Oh, how I laughed at that early version of backtalk.
When she's crying, it's so easy to hand her something that stops the crying 95% of the time. Do you have anything that works so well in your life? Don't you wish you did, just a little bit?
Maybe I'll have a harder time letting go of the pacifier than Helen will.
It was a *Super* Bowl of Shrimp
On Sunday, Brian and I took Helen with us to a friend's house for a SuperBowl party. We brought the required football snacks - namely, some shrimp (a fresh catch from the grocery store that morning). I make a mean cocktail sauce, so we were looking forward to enjoying some good food and company.
Upon arrival, I counted kids. There were 6 altogether, which ups the noise factor by a factor of 25. Aside from the 7-month old daughter of the party hosts, Helen was the youngest. She's not the best on stairs, so after we got the food set up (more on that later), I kept running up to check on her. There was a gigantic playroom upstairs, complete with a kiddie electric train set which I enjoyed more than anyone. The three oldest boys were watching Cars, in between figuring out how to cause maximum damage to each other with minimum parental involvement. Making sure Helen didn't get caught in the crossfire so meant missing most of the first half and about 90% of the commercials.
Thank god for the internet. Everything from SuperBowl Sunday is listed on ifilm.com, so I'm totally caught up.
Back to the food. As we were unpacking everything, I unwrapped the seafood and noticed something odd. The shrimp didn't look - well, COOKED. So I asked Brian, "Hey, did you get these steamed, or are the shrimp raw?" Oh no, he assured me they were cooked. Doubtful, I picked one up and watched it sort of flop over. He said, "I think you're used to the grey shrimp, but these are the pink kind, and they are cooked." To test it, he peeled one, dipped it in cocktail sauce and ate it.
If you've met my husband, you already knew those shrimp were raw.
About an hour later, Brian was decidedly not feeling well. Of course, with Peyton Manning's pride on the line, we didn't leave the party until the game was over. But when the game was over, we were speeding down the interstate.
Two days later, he's still trying to get the taste of raw shrimp out of his mouth. And oh, how I giggled - to myself, of course.
Upon arrival, I counted kids. There were 6 altogether, which ups the noise factor by a factor of 25. Aside from the 7-month old daughter of the party hosts, Helen was the youngest. She's not the best on stairs, so after we got the food set up (more on that later), I kept running up to check on her. There was a gigantic playroom upstairs, complete with a kiddie electric train set which I enjoyed more than anyone. The three oldest boys were watching Cars, in between figuring out how to cause maximum damage to each other with minimum parental involvement. Making sure Helen didn't get caught in the crossfire so meant missing most of the first half and about 90% of the commercials.
Thank god for the internet. Everything from SuperBowl Sunday is listed on ifilm.com, so I'm totally caught up.
Back to the food. As we were unpacking everything, I unwrapped the seafood and noticed something odd. The shrimp didn't look - well, COOKED. So I asked Brian, "Hey, did you get these steamed, or are the shrimp raw?" Oh no, he assured me they were cooked. Doubtful, I picked one up and watched it sort of flop over. He said, "I think you're used to the grey shrimp, but these are the pink kind, and they are cooked." To test it, he peeled one, dipped it in cocktail sauce and ate it.
If you've met my husband, you already knew those shrimp were raw.
About an hour later, Brian was decidedly not feeling well. Of course, with Peyton Manning's pride on the line, we didn't leave the party until the game was over. But when the game was over, we were speeding down the interstate.
Two days later, he's still trying to get the taste of raw shrimp out of his mouth. And oh, how I giggled - to myself, of course.
1.24.2007
From the Mouths of Babes
Last night Brian had a chat with Helen.
Brian: Helen, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be a doctor?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to be a dentist?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to be a teacher?
Helen: No.
(You get the idea. Astronaut, scientist and librarian all get the same response from Helen.)
Brian: (grasping at straws) Are you going to be a telephone operator?
Helen: (vigorously nods head yes)
Brian: Are you going to own the phone company?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to a good college?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to get good grades?
Helen: (nods, a little uncertainly)
Brian: Are you going to get straight A’s?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to live at home forever?
Helen: (vigorously nods head yes)
(Brian went ahead and increased his 401k contribution this morning.)
Brian: Helen, what are you going to be when you grow up? Are you going to be a doctor?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to be a dentist?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to be a teacher?
Helen: No.
(You get the idea. Astronaut, scientist and librarian all get the same response from Helen.)
Brian: (grasping at straws) Are you going to be a telephone operator?
Helen: (vigorously nods head yes)
Brian: Are you going to own the phone company?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to a good college?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to get good grades?
Helen: (nods, a little uncertainly)
Brian: Are you going to get straight A’s?
Helen: No.
Brian: Are you going to live at home forever?
Helen: (vigorously nods head yes)
(Brian went ahead and increased his 401k contribution this morning.)
1.16.2007
Overheard
This evening, I was changing Helen's diaper when Brian snuck into the room to surprise Helen.
Brian: Helen!
Helen: Da-da!!
Brian: Who loves you special?
Helen: Da-da!!
Brian: And who's the smartest in the whole wide world?
Helen: Ma-ma!!
Jennie: (laughing hysterically)
Brian: (through gritted teeth) And who's going to pay all of your college tuition?
Helen: Da-da!!
Jennie: (doubled over, still laughing)
Brian: (leaves room)
Brian: Helen!
Helen: Da-da!!
Brian: Who loves you special?
Helen: Da-da!!
Brian: And who's the smartest in the whole wide world?
Helen: Ma-ma!!
Jennie: (laughing hysterically)
Brian: (through gritted teeth) And who's going to pay all of your college tuition?
Helen: Da-da!!
Jennie: (doubled over, still laughing)
Brian: (leaves room)
1.13.2007
Check out the new 'do
You know that Neil Diamond song, "Forever in Blue Jeans"?
Without ado, I give you: Forever in Pigtails.
Without ado, I give you: Forever in Pigtails.
1.02.2007
Next up: Movie Rights
This year my sister gave me a wonderful Christmas present: she published my first book.
On the sly, she used a self-publishing site called Lulu.com, and organized all of my blog posts through the end of the year into a handy hardcover edition, complete with pictures.
I'm already looking forward to giving copies of this book to any dates that Helen manages to slip past her father, with certain entries tabbed and highlighted. "And here, young man, is the story of Helen's first poo. I hope you enjoy it."
On Christmas morning, Mandy showed me the website on her laptop, on a page that looks very similar to any book listed on Amazon. And I cried, and cried, and cried. I'm an author! For real!
I absolutely ADORE the title, Listening Twice, which refers to this entry.
The first copy has already been purchased. That should zoom me right to the top of the Bestseller List (in our neighborhood), don't you think?
You can visit the page, purchase the book online, preview the first few pages, or even review it. I'm giving my readers a link to it here. Very reasonably priced, although it can't compete with the free archives on the blog.
It's a milestone that someone else achieved for me, and now that it's done, I can try it on my own one day. That's such an exciting feeling, and I can't thank my sister enough for that gift.
By the way, we don't get anything from the sale of this book, except the satisfaction of knowing that Helen can throw it away, and I can order another one.
On the sly, she used a self-publishing site called Lulu.com, and organized all of my blog posts through the end of the year into a handy hardcover edition, complete with pictures.
I'm already looking forward to giving copies of this book to any dates that Helen manages to slip past her father, with certain entries tabbed and highlighted. "And here, young man, is the story of Helen's first poo. I hope you enjoy it."
On Christmas morning, Mandy showed me the website on her laptop, on a page that looks very similar to any book listed on Amazon. And I cried, and cried, and cried. I'm an author! For real!
I absolutely ADORE the title, Listening Twice, which refers to this entry.
The first copy has already been purchased. That should zoom me right to the top of the Bestseller List (in our neighborhood), don't you think?
You can visit the page, purchase the book online, preview the first few pages, or even review it. I'm giving my readers a link to it here. Very reasonably priced, although it can't compete with the free archives on the blog.
It's a milestone that someone else achieved for me, and now that it's done, I can try it on my own one day. That's such an exciting feeling, and I can't thank my sister enough for that gift.
By the way, we don't get anything from the sale of this book, except the satisfaction of knowing that Helen can throw it away, and I can order another one.
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