Tis the Season ... to tear out my hair.

It's getting harder to buy gifts for my parents. They're the kind of people who go out and buy what they want. That leaves precious little ideas about what to give them for Christmas. And believe me, I've given it a lot of thought.

When my father walks into an Apple Store, the salesmen all say "Norm!" and the stock price zooms up. That can't be a coincidence.

My mother, the Alpha Geek in the family, has a computer monitor the size of Kentucky sitting on her desk. It's tough to see what else she could use, besides a bigger desk.

I'm honestly happy for them. We kids are on our own, and they finally get to take care of themselves. Goodness knows they deserve it. I'm looking forward to deserving it one day, too! But now I'm stuck figuring out what to get them for Christmas. Here's my list so far.

Dad: white socks.
Mom: maybe some cream-colored socks?

You can see where this is headed: a one-way ticket to Yawn City on Christmas morning. So if anyone has better ideas, step up to the plate and take a swing.

All I Want for Christmas

BRIAN: You need to make a Christmas list for me. Or else I'll have to get you a bowling ball. Or a blowtorch.

ME: (silent, thinking of what I might want)

BRIAN: Okay?

ME: Yeah. I don't want to get a blowtorch for Christmas.

BRIAN: It's not really a blowtorch, as much as a cutting torch.

Classified Listings

Last week, for no apparent reason, Helen woke up at 12:15 a.m. She stayed awake until nearly 4 a.m., passed out for an hour, then was up for good.

I, on the other hand, spent the day in zombie mode. Apparently I promised everyone money and loads of free time, too. This morning, everyone called to remind me of it.

Next time, I need to remember to take the day off.

So I was complaining to a friend about not getting any sleep, and behold, there's a website that understands my pain. Here's a t-shirt I could have ordered instantly:





Unfortunately, they don't have any sizes over 18 months, and Helen "bowl full of jelly" Wyatt outgrew that size the day she learned about macaroni and cheese.

She's her mother's daughter, to be sure.

(I think they're also limited to 18 months because the kid catches on to the FOR SALE sign bit after a while.)

Anyway, the shirt made me laugh on a day I really, really needed it. But if I bought it, made her wear it and then took her to daycare, you can bet DHS will be following me home.

Mmmm, cookies.

While Helen & I were napping this afternoon, Brian went to the store. I awoke to the delicious smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

Brian: There's nothing better than cookie dough icing on top of a cookie.

Me: Really?

Brian: (takes a bite) Oh my god!

Me: What?

Brian: I can actually feel my hips expanding!

Cheeky Monkey

When do you stop wanting to kiss baby cheeks all the time?

I was scrolling through photos we've taken of Helen over the past year, and what surprised me was how many pictures I have of Helen where we're kissing her. Top of head, little baby hand, you name it. Both Brian & I, caught in the act.

I kiss that little baby's cheeks a LOT. When she gets up in the morning, I get her out of her crib and give her a big hug with lots of kisses. While we're playing, sometimes I grab her and kiss her cheeks until she starts giggling. When I get her out of her high chair after dinner, she gets a big kiss before I put her down. Of course, that's after she's been cleaned up - the ravioli nights would be a disaster for both of us if I didn't wash her face first. Yuck!

And I know that kissing stops eventually, because our parents aren't kissing on us all the time. And I'm wondering, why? Do you still want to, and you just don't because we're all adults here? Do the teenage years ruin it for you? Is it because I don't have those impossibly squooshy soft baby cheeks anymore?

I'm curious. Really. If you have a theory, feel free to leave it in the comments.

In the meantime, I'm kissing those cheeks for all I'm worth.

Halloween Night

We didn't practice "Trick or Treat." We didn't show Helen how to carry her candy bucket. We didn't even tell her to what to do when she got to the door.

We didn't have to do any of those things. At 18 months, Helen is a Halloween pro.

She picked through bowls of candy, and she said "dah-doo" (thank you) and "bye." She said "woof woof" to the puppies and "shee-shee" to the kitties. And she charmed the heck out of all of the neighbors.

I tell you, there's nothing more fun than a little kid on Halloween.

Except when she goes to bed at 8 and her parents get to eat all the candy.

Getting ready to go out in her Piglet costume, exchanging pacifier for candy bucket:



Running to the next house:



I love this picture! She's peering in the door (can you see the homeowners?):



PICK THE M&Ms, HELEN:



Checking out the candy back at home:



Twizzlers rock!

Pumpkin Patch - AGAIN

South of our house is a giant farm with a pumpkin patch. In the fall, they open up on the weekends for people to bring their kids to see the goats and sheep and cows and chickens. They set up a maze in the cornfield, and they pile up hay bales in one of the barns for another maze. They have horseshoes and bean bag tosses and giant checker games. There was a slide for the kids, and little tractors for them to ride. And don't forget the giant tractor rides for the whole family. Clearly, this place was set up for a fun time.

The house itself was built just before the Civil War. They had a couple of cabins and sheds and several barns all around. It was a huge patch of land, and despite the hundreds of people enjoying the gorgeous fall afternoon with us, I really liked all the room. It was one of those days when you think, wouldn't it be great to have a farm and all that land to yourself, and just spend your days working at home?

And then you think of milking cows on Christmas morning, and those rainy days when getting out seems like the last thing you want to do, and you realize farm work is way harder than your cushy day job.

But for a little while it was a nice dream.

Here's Helen tossing the beanbag:



And here she is, about to go down the slide for the 30th time:





And here she is, enjoying the farm:

Beans Beans Beans!

This entry is for S., my roommate in college and still one of my closest friends. S. hails from jolly old England. Freshman year she told one of our hallmates that they all wore black on 4th of July.

Is it any wonder we're friends?

After the time in the dorms, we shared our first apartment together. We mainly cooked for ourselves, and it was junior year that I learned about her favorite meal: baked beans on toast.

This meal really tested the bonds of friendship, not to mention my gag reflex. Even though I grew up in the southern United States, I can't eat baked beans. They're a staple at every family reunion, church picnic, and most barbeque joints. And I have passed them up every time. Something about them just tastes wrong to me.

And there was S., putting them on toast! Of course it got all soggy, but she loved every bite. Later I learned it's not just S. who eats this odd meal; it's a well-known favorite of English folks everywhere, from childhood on. Yuck!

To be fair, I think that's how she felt when I ate all those Kraft dinners.

I know Helen has eaten baked beans at school, because I've seen the words "Beanie Weenie" on her lunch calendar. But that's the American version, with cut-up hot dogs. It's a meal with enough sodium to rival your saltshaker. Minus the hot dogs, I thought I'd finally give the beans a try at home with her. Something about having a kid - you get to correct all your own food mistakes. Maybe this one will eat all the asparagus I never did. Or maybe she'll like lima beans. You never know. Baked beans? Why not?

And of course, the whole time she was eating them, she kept saying "Mmmmm!" She finished the bowl and asked for more.

All right, Helen, I'll refill the bowl - but you can't pay me to add the toast.





UPDATE: She just ate a whole crumpet. Now we'll have to move to Liverpool!

Home Improvement

I realized that I've left you all hanging on the TV update. It's installed and sitting pretty above our mantel.

But Brian noticed right away that the high definition channels weren't as crisp as they could be - definitely not what we saw in the store. When the images on the screen moved, the picture got very pixelated. And the regular channels weren't very good at all. The blue TV did regular channels much better.

Some moron at the customer service center tried to tell us that's what TV looked like in larger sizes. Yeah, right.

Anyway, this Friday someone's coming out to replace the video board. So hopefully, I'll be able to tell you next week that the TV looks fantastic and we're loving it.

But really,in spite of it all, that's already happening.

Yes, it's fun, but it's also a lot of responsibility.

Yesterday Helen and I went to Target. Daycare takes the kids out twice a day, and it's getting cold enough here to need a coat. Helen has grown a bit since last winter, so we needed to go shopping.

It's never a good idea to let me into a Target supervised by only a 17-month old.

Helen is now the proud parent of a Fisher Price baby. She held that doll all the way to the register, where there was a bit of a struggle to get it scanned. There was an even bigger struggle when we got home and I tried to get the doll out of its packaging.

The baby came with a little bottle, and after spending a lot of time (at her insistence) "feeding" the baby, I've taught her how to do it. I tried to teach her how to "burp" the baby, but she just hugs her instead.

Fly the friendly skies of Las Vegas.

Email exchange from last month:


To: X, Y, Z
From: Me
Subject: This weekend

Vandy is a 33-point favorite to win, over a Division 1 school? Granted, it's Temple, but still!


From: Z
To: X, Y, Me
Subject: Re: This weekend

Early prediction: Vandy loses.


From: Y
To: X, Z, Me
Subject: Re: This weekend

Vandy by 42.


From: Me
To: X, Y, and Z
Subject: Re: This weekend

With all these predictions, someone should pony up and be the bookie!


From: X
To: Y, Z and Me
Subject: Re: This weekend

Helen. She cannot go to jail.


From: Me
To: X, Y and Z
Subject: Re: This weekend

This is the first time Vandy has been this big of a favorite since Vegas started keeping up with the data. I might put money on this game.

From: X
To: Y, Z and Me
Subject: Re: This weekend

You need to let Helen stand on her own. She needs to spread her wings and fly. Like a bird. A glorious bird, who takes bets.

You can only hold on to them for so long.


From: Me
To: X, Y and Z
Subject: This weekend

Helen would make a terrible bookie. She'd spend it all on Twizzlers. She really likes Twizzlers.

The Great Pumpkin

This morning we passed a local church with a front yard full of pumpkins.

Actually, this was the same pumpkin patch we visited last year with Helen at 4 months old, where I propped her up against giant pumpkins to get some cute pictures. She would slump over, I'd prop her back up, and take a few more shots.

This year, she wouldn't even stand still. I could barely get her to look at the camera, she was so excited to pick up the little pumpkins and carry them around.

I really don't know a better way to get in the mood for Halloween than to watch a little kid get this thrilled.

This worked out differently in my head.

Mounting a TV over the fireplace means figuring out how to hide those pesky cords. So Brian spent Monday night drilling a couple of holes in the wall for power cords and cables. Actually, he spent some of early Tuesday morning on that project, too. But he finally conceded to the Carpentry Gods that the drilling was not going to work without the right drill bit.

So, after a trip to Home Depot, Tuesday night's work went a lot faster. He made it through 2 studs to bring the cord down to an outlet he created next to the mantel, and after I went to bed, he put up part of the mounting bracket for the television.

(I would put up pictures of this stuff, but right now the hard working crew at Blogspot is out for a manicure. So I'll try to edit them in later.)

He also created a second outlet for the satellite dish hookup and the phone line. That required a trip to the crawlspace, to pull the lines from the current location across the living room to the new spot.

For those of you who have not visited your home's crawlspace before, I learned an important fact on Tuesday night. Brian came back from his trip under the house and shared with me that we had "millions of spiders."

Now, I don't know about you, but I get the heebie-jeebies whenever I see a bug. As a kid, I was not typically afraid of bugs. I carried around roly-polys, I played with caterpillars, I watched ants scurry around, but a chance encounter in a bathroom with a cockroach the size of my foot changed all that in a hurry.

And for many years I've owned a cat who delights in taking care of any pest problem I might have, and even tortures them, too. So, at the end, there's no more bug, and as a bonus, it's died a horrible, lingering death. It's a win-win in my book.

But now, I have to sleep each night on a bed which stands on a layer of carpet and plywood subflooring and wooden joists, knowing that mere inches below all of that lies a breeding, teeming layer of spiders.

(Sorry - did I mention sleep? My eyes aren't actually shut. It's more like a panicky, "eyes wide open" look.)

Back to the project! On Wednesday night, which should have been the easiest of all, it took 3 hours and another trip to Home Depot to get one lone cable through the brick outside of the house, into the crawlspace and up through the floor. As a bonus, tonight Brian will get to re-crimp the cable since one end didn't survive the trip through the brick wall.

I'm now taking bets as to how many more trips to the hardware store are left in this project. Please feel free to make your guesses in the comments. The winner gets a free consultation with an experienced TV installer, who may or may not be deathly afraid of spiders.

TV Land

Last year we bought a gigantic Zenith television for an absolute steal at a friend's employee pricing sale. Brand-new DLP TV, more than 60" of viewing pleasure, with a few good reviews already online.

But about 5 months later, we noticed a small blue streak along the lower left-hand corner. The manufacturer's warranty was only 90 days, so we were pretty worried that there was some very expensive going wrong with our gorgeous TV.

After a bit of Googling, it turns out we were right to worry - the light engines were defective in this model. Reviews were scathing by this time as most owners were seeing the problem, and since they paid retail, I can understand their wrath. By then Zenith was well aware of the defect, but since it was outside of their warranty period, they were only too happy to replace the part after you gave them quite a lot of money first. Money which we didn't really want to spend, not knowing if the new part was also defective.

In the meantime, our TV screen turned more and more blue. For a while, it held steady at about half the screen. But eventually, it went ALL blue. This is a picture of the Monday Night Football game, to show you what we've been watching:



Fun, huh? It means every team plays on Boise State's blue field. It means having conversations like "Who's in the dark uniforms? Georgia? Okay, got it."

We got a quote to repair it, but the estimate was a bit shocking. Not willing to spend more to fix the TV than we bought it for, we hemmed & hawed for months. Finally, we decided to cut our losses and go for a new TV. Brian shopped and read reviews and talked to the guys at Circuit City and Best Buy. Then he'd come home and tell me all about it.

Plasma. LCD. DLP. Rear-projection. Warranties. Surround sound. Receivers. HDMI cables. Satellite dishes. My head spun.

But after 8 months (!), Brian finally settled on one model. He took me to look at it, I loved it, and he proceeded to swing a fantastic deal, along with a 5-year warranty. Plus (you'll have to take my word for it), it's really pretty.



But it's going to take a lot of work to put that thing on the wall.

(to be continued)

Best Wishes to the Happy Couple

One of my college roommates got married yesterday. C. has found the love of her life and decided to settle down with him. After watching the two of them at their reception, I think they'll be supremely happy.

She & I reconnected after I moved to town a few years ago to be with Brian. I knew she was from this area, but didn't know she was still here after we all went our separate ways at graduation. So imagine my surprise when I was headed to my car after work one day and saw her standing on the sidewalk. Once we recognized each other, I think the squealing could be heard a couple of blocks away. Now we "do lunch" at our favorite little restaurant nearby and spent a little quality girl time catching up on all the latest news.

The wedding was very small - just family and a couple of friends. I felt very privileged to be invited, and best of all, I finally got a chance to meet her parents. Lovely people. Her dad and her new husband both tried pretty hard to get the dirt on our college years, but since most of my stories implicate both of us, I kept my mouth shut.

Much love and congratulations, C. - Brian & I wish you many happy years together!

And no, I won't post that picture of C. dressed like an early 80s Madonna for a frat party. Your dad offered money, which is tempting, but no. ;)

You Can Sail the Seven Seas

Our friend W. is in town this weekend for a golf tournament. W. was stationed in the Navy at Pearl Harbor a few years back, and graciously allowed us to stay in his home for a week-long vacation to Hawaii.

Now W. is stationed in DC. More administrative work than boat duty, but he's in DC, so there's a normal routine and a nightlife. He's single and young and clearly quite unsure what to think of a weekend with a married couple and a baby. The highlight of our evening is watching Helen run around the living room. For those of you who remember your single years, you may be thinking, "Yeah, just give the man a drink already."

On our trip to Hawaii, this guy took us to one of the best karoke bars in Waikiki Beach, where 99 cent mai-tais encouraged the guys to sing "I Want It That Way" by the Backstreet Boys. Tonight, Helen kept pulling up her shirt to show us her belly button.

I'm sure he'll carry these memories of domestic bliss with him for a long time after this weekend is over.

New Clothes

It's September - time to shop for back-to-school clothes! Remember getting in the car with your mom and your little sister to go shopping, just a little bit peeved because you could have gone to the pool one last time? Remember picking out new shoes that hurt your feet, and those dark, stiff jeans? Remember having a hard time trying on sweaters when it was still 100 degrees outside? Remember spending several hours arguing with your mom over what you really wanted to wear?

Yeah, Helen's only 15 months old. This year, no argument from her on clothes shopping.





I especially love those jeans. They fit her in the belly but they're WAY too long. So I had to cuff 'em.

But I noticed something weird last night - when I took the jeans off so she could take a bath, her legs were this weird shade of blue. Turns out the dye on the jeans had rubbed off on her skin.

Did anyone else's mother buy them new clothes for school that turned them into a Smurf? Just wondering.

Garanimals

Sunday the Wyatt family went to the zoo. It's a pretty nifty place, designed more as an animal preserve than a zoo. There are lots of walkways through shaded forests or bamboo jungles, with wide open spaces for the larger animals. The selection of exhibits are fewer in number than most zoos, but it's a quality place, and we enjoyed the afternoon.

My favorite part of the place is the elephant savannah. They have a huge field built up with rocks and ponds and shaded areas for the elephants to wander around, and a nice path for the visitors encircles it with several different viewing areas to choose from, depending on where the elephants might be. We lucked out and spotted them close by at the first spot we stopped, so I pulled up the stroller to the fence, leaned down and pointed at the three large grey elephants nearby. "Helen," I said, "Can you see the elephants?"

"Noooooo ..." she replied.

I point again. "There they are, Helen, can you see the elephants?" Again: "Noooooo ..."

I lean down and try to look through the fence from her vantage point in the stroller. Maybe there's a fence post in the way, or she's too far down to see them uphill. Nope, she's got a great view. Two handlers come out, apparently to walk the animals around, and as they start to move, I point them out again. She's watching, but always saying, "Noooooo ...:

The exact same thing happened at the giraffe exhibit, and the tiger exhibit. The only animals she really "saw" were the meerkats. She kept meowing and woof-woofing at them.

I've decided that "Noooooo ... " must actually mean "Yes, that's a perfect view, Mommy, and thanks for pointing it out to me" in toddler-speak.

I had to adjust my high expectations for our trip to the zoo very quickly. She was old enough to pay attention, but the things I thought would interest her, she didn't even notice. The things that I didn't see, I could hardly peel her away from. Like, she was absolutely thrilled by the sight of water. A small rushing stream near the lemurs, or a pond near the petting zoo - didn't matter. It was water, and she wanted to look at it. Same with pulling leaves off all the bushes that we passed by, or watching the other kids nearby. And Helen loved the swings in the children's play area. I couldn't believe my camera got pictures of her in the swing, but it came through in a big way.





Good thing it didn't cost us anything to bring a child under 3 to the zoo. Next time, I'll save the gas money and just lead her outside to the water hose.

Helen learns "Touchdown!"

We had friends over for ribs and football on Saturday. Helen was really excited to see our friend S. He's one of those guys who has energy to spare for a kid. Totally ready to play, and way more fun than an actual parent. At one point, Brian said, "Helen, come give Da-da a hug," and Helen ran straight for S. Brian's still hurting a little from that one. Little tip, Helen - try that again, and you won't ever get the keys to the car.

We also had the Amazing Babysitter over for the food and games. Helen had a ball eating cheese and crackers with us. She dipped her cracker and ate the cheese, then dipped the (soggy) cracker back in the cheese.





Now that I think about it, the cheese was all hers after that.

Good News

It's been about 2 weeks since the mortifying conversation with the daycare teacher about Helen needing to have rules.

It was a pretty rough week after that - she spent most mornings at school crying, wanting her pacifier, asking for a morning nap that they don't allow. That was frustrating for everyone.

So I spent last weekend making sure Helen stuck to the daycare schedule, instead of taking an extra morning nap. Voila! Much happier kid the next week at school. Several days I called to check on her, and she was definitely improving.

Those of you unfamiliar with daycare may not know that the babies get daily reports. Every day since she was 8 weeks old, I've taken home a report on the day's activities:



With the report, the parents know what the child ate, what the diapers were like, and how long they napped.

I found out quickly how important it is to know this stuff, because Helen will sometimes eat very little at lunch and then proceed to chew my arm off when I get home. Check the report - "ate very little of my main item." Hmm. Got it. Helen, I'm cooking it at light speed, sweetie. Stop gnawing on my elbow.

Last week, the notes along the side had included details from her teacher about being cranky, crying or asking for her pacifier. This week, the notes were a little nicer. Then, there was Friday's note:



That teacher, I'm not sure if she was giving us a compliment, or simply toying with me. Either way, Brian & I laughed a lot. LISTENED TWICE.

It's way more than we ever get from her at home.