Out of the housepet stage

"Here, Lindsay, you hang on to the duck."

"Duh."

"Yeah, that's a duck!"

"Duh."

Studying pays off

The professor announced at the start of class today that she'd graded the exams and that there was no bell curve - that people either did very well or very badly. She said the mode grade was a high B.

I thought, there's no way I blew the exam. I figured I was looking at a high B, and well, that's just fine. After class, the professor passed them back to us. On the back of the exam, she'd written:

IDs = 61 1/2 out of 63
Comparison 1 = 17 out of 19
Comparison 2 = 18 out of 18
____________________
96 1/2

I can hardly believe it. I got an A!

Fifty cent words

"I am always a little apprehensive about getting my
hair cut."

Unlikely

Directly after I explained to my 4-year-old how unlikely it is we would have to call the police, of course, I had to call the police.

My next door neighbor asked me to collect his mail and newspapers while he and his wife traveled South to her eldest son's school. It's "March Madness" and he's a team captain. He was very excited about the trip. He said, in his drawl, "Well, I just thought we shouldn't have a stack of mail and newspapers advertising we were gone so that someone came and stole the stereo."

I noticed as I was washing the dinner dishes that there were several lights on in the house that weren't on when I'd served dinner. I was surprised to see a male figure walk across the darkened kitchen. I hesitated though. They have 4 kids between them. I had no idea if one or more were staying in the house, or if someone was over perhaps to feed the cat. I decided that the neighbor probably wouldn't have asked me to collect mail if someone were feeding the cat or if his kid(s) were there, and called the police.

There were 3 cruisers outside in 2 minutes. I saw the police walk around the perimeter of the property, and then it was quiet for a long time. Forty minutes passed, the cruisers still on the street. So I thought, well something must've been going on...

After I tucked Lindsay into bed, and in the middle of Lauren's story, an officer arrived at my door. He'd set two bottles on my porch. "Good evening, Ma'am. Did you call about the neighbor's house?"

"Yes, Officer." I replied. "I was concerned that I was sending in the police to bother my neighbor's cat sitter."

"Oh, no, Ma'am." he answered. "There were quite a lot of teenagers there with a couple of kegs of beer and bottles. I guess that their son had decided he'd have a party."

I nodded. "Oh."

"So we ended it a little early."

"I see. Well, thank you, Officer. You have a good night."

I went back upstairs and explained to Lauren why I'd called the police, because I didn't know if it was safe for me to go over there. I called the police and they checked it out, and they found that the neighbor's son was at the house when he wasn't supposed to be.

"Oh." said she.

"And Lauren?"

"Yeah?"

"Probably when you're a teenager, this is a bad neighborhood to try and have a keg party when your parents are away."

"Ok, Mom."

Riiight.

Aftermath of Child Assault Prevention week at school

"And then we will go play outside, I will keep a lookout for strangers. And then if I see one, I will holler, 'Stranger' and we will go hide. And then we can go inside the house and shut the door. And then if the stranger comes to the door we will NOT answer it, we will stay quietly inside and the stranger will think no one is home and go away. And then we should know that we must never be left alone inside the house."

Adoration

Lindsay and Lauren, February 2007

People are watching

I have an old friend who I've fallen out with. It happens. We were tight through college. I got married, I moved. He's pretty much in the same place. We'll call him Jean Marc.

I found recently that he has a blog, and really, I don't want to be reading it. He writes almost painfully intimate details about his life and our mutual friends. He called recently, and yet I could not bring myself to admit I was following the blog because it seemed just too much. I pretended as though the "news" was new, but really, it was the last 2 weeks' worth of posts.

He posted an open question recently about this woman he's involved with - and really one doesn't have to know him well to know this relationship is doomed. He's just not into her, she's way into him. I couldn't resist commenting, "Dump her. Come on. Why are you wasting her time, dude?" anonymously. It was too painful to not comment, but now, of course, I am having commenter's remorse. If he wanted me to read his blog...well, know.

I write intimate details about my life on the Internet. I have accepted that occasionally that means I get an email from that kid Tommy I had a crush on in 7th grade laughing that he found me through my blog. And "Oh my God, Heather, you are still the same laugh riot/freak who wore black and smoked cigarettes/mess and a half you were in high school!" And really, what can I say but yes. Yes I am. That's me. Why do I have trouble saying, "Jean Marc, you're a mess. Get a new therapist, stop journaling your failures, and pursue relationships with women who want the same things as you do. For [expletive]'s sake, you're almost 35." But I won't. I will just try to stop reading his blog.

Using both hands and a flashlight

I love the expression "Couldn't find her own ass using both hands", but it occurs to me that She who will be called only Nanny can't find her ass using both hands and a flashlight.

It probably surprises none of you to hear that she never had discussed the involvement of children with the bride and groom - she unilaterally decided they weren't invited, and second, although she was trying to make plans to select and purchase Lauren's flower girl dress, she never consulted the bride. She had sent me email last week that it absolutely must be ordered in the next 3 weeks.

This morning I received this gem:

Hope you had a good weekend! We will put the dress on hold the bride wants the girls to get their dresses first.

I'm not sure that even requires further comment.

A little bit of navel gazing

Because after a week of pictures, I feel the need to say something of substance...

The exam was hard. Of the 100 or so pieces, there were 10 identifications and 2 comparisons. I'd never taken a "slide exam" before. It's stressful. I know there were a couple of answers I just couldn't tease out of my head. Frustrating, because I really felt I'd be able to nail the ids.

I said a lot of tremendously stupid stuff last week, ranging from just being unthoughtful to falling into the trap of my own rage. I am trying to focus on that I behaved badly, but I owned it and apologized. That shows growth over the last year, rather than compounding it by making it other people's fault (eg, because Nanny is crazy doesn't really give an excuse to go off on her, my reactions are my own responsibility) or by behaving as though nothing had happened. It doesn't help that the compounded effect of my mouth runneth over means Alec has gotten phone calls over the past week from various family members asking whether I've completely lost my mind. And I will admit, Internets, that the idea of a padded cell appealed briefly this week - at least then someone else would cook and do the laundry.

Quiet week

Sorry it's been such a quiet week. I have been busily preparing for my first exam in art history class. I have over 100 objects to remember the artist, the title, the place, and the period. I feel pretty comfortable with those facts, it's the artistic terms like chiaroscuro and sfumato that are swimming around my head.

Happy Valentines

We are happy valentines Chez Stoll. All three girls got flowers:

Mom's flowers

Lauren's flowers

Lindsay's flowers

And a present for Alec:

Front walk Chez Stoll, through the dining room window.

No, I didn't shovel, honey. But you didn't grow the flowers either...and I still love them.

And I took this last one yesterday for Karen. I thought about how much I loved to see Lindsay wear Lauren's hand-me-downs, so I tried to take a picture of Lindsay wearing "Bugs on Parade", however, she said, "Mama. It's nap time."

Lindsay calls it quits.

Her fan club

Lauren is the kid in the class everybody likes. I can't say I truly understand what constitutes popular at age 4. This was what the teachers told us way back when she was a toddler in daycare - the other kids just like her - her peers, the older kids. Anyway, I'm not complaining...it's certainly better than the alternative.

And so, this wasn't the first time I have been approached by a fellow parent in a store, child tagging behind, with an awed whisper, "It's Lauren!" But this time, it was in the Target a couple towns away, in the art supply aisle. Classmate's dad appeared to be by himself. He looked at me vaguely, trying to place where he knew me. Looked at Lauren.

"Hey," I said.

"Our kids are in the same class..." he exclaimed.

"Yep."

"Mine is Nicole."

"This is Lauren." I replied. Lauren looked at me. "He's Nicole's dad."

"Oh..." she said. "Hi, Nicole's dad."

"Wow...This is Lauren?! Oh my goodness. Nicole is always talking about Lauren."

I chuckled. "Yes, they must be friends at school. Lauren talks about Nicole too."

"Wow. I have to go get her..." He returned a couple minutes later with Nicole, who had been admiring princess dresses a couple aisles away with her grandmother.

So we admired princess dresses with Nicole for a while, and then Lauren and I had one of our conversations that went like this:

"K. We're going to have to finish up our shopping so we can head home. I don't want to have to drive in the snow."

"I'll drive."

"Well, you know, Lauren, when you can actually drive the car, that will be a relevant offer, but right now, it's not. We're going in a couple of minutes."

"When I'm sixteen, I can drive..."

"True. But that isn't going to help me this afternoon."

Classmate's dad alternated between looking surprised and amused by this exchange.

Twelve small steps

"Hi, my name is Lauren..."

"Hi, Lauren."

"I never lie to other people..."

"That's great."

"I only lie to myself..."

"Oh. Not so great..."

Situation normal

I'm feeling that tug of guilt this afternoon.

Studying catch as catch can is tough and doesn't make for dynamic parenting. I've been distracted today by various things. There have been almost constant requests for notes, and exchanging email with my professor and fellow classmates. Although we talked about school, read a couple of stories, and had a couple of meals together, I've been largely a bore to be around.

Lindsay and I waited for Lauren at the bus stop. The bus was a couple minutes early today, and it was clear that AlphaMom's kid was expecting to be picked up. I sort of stood around, seeing if A.M. or her oldest son emerged from their house on the corner. As the bus pulled away, both she and her tall boy flew out of the house. They caught the bus before it turned the corner. I felt sort of bad, like I should've been more proactive, and yet, I can't help but be annoyed that I'm always the one standing out for 10 minutes at the bus stop because I live farther away...and she wanders out of her house when the bus arrives.

We crossed the street, and walked up the incline toward the house. About 3 houses from ours lives StepMom who has 2 stepkids and 3-month old twin girls. As we passed their house, both babies were screaming as she loaded them and her 6-year-old stepdaughter into her mini-van. She had a car seat in her hand and looked bedraggled.

"Hi there."

"Ever have one of those days," she sighed.

"Yep. Every single day." I laughed.

She started to say something else, and Lauren said loudly that she had to use the bathroom, so I waved back and we finished walking up the hill.

As I got in the house, I felt awful. Geez, she really had her hands full. Yeah, I've been trying to study all day, but Lindsay was in the snugli in a reasonably good mood despite her constant running nose and drool for cutting 2 teeth, and Lauren, although in a rush, was also in a pretty good mood. It might have been nice to offer her a hand, I scolded myself. No wonder you don't make friends in the neighborhood.

My mommy the blogger

Another weird shot from Lauren's camera. I don't know that I'm actually blogging in this picture, but since there are about a half dozen pictures at the laptop, her perception is either I am often at the computer or it's just too hard to take a picture of me standing up.
And this one is titled: Daddy, Fashionista.

Lindsay

Lindsay at 8 1/2 months, February 2007

An action shot of Lindsay, sitting up on one knee, picks up and drops her teething ring. This is a common position, she uses it to turn around toward the bent leg, pushing off on the straight leg. It appears to be a study in holding her upper body straight as she bends and straightens her legs, part of her quest to stand unsupported in the center of the room. She favors her left hand. Also, socks have suddenly become unpopular.

Report card

I was surprised to find Lauren's report card in her purple folder today. I found I had that familiar sense of vertigo as I opened the envelope.

As Lindsay so eloquently put it, "Uh oh."

I realized as I looked over her exemplary report card, that I need a serious attitude adjustment regarding grades. Do I really want Lauren to experience the dread I experienced in middle school over bringing home a blue honors card versus a red high honors card? I felt the world crashing around my ears over the few C's I earned in middle and high school.

I read through it, and said, "Your teacher says you're doing really well in school. Keep up the good work!"

Lauren grinned. "Thanks!"

And we left it at that.

Come home, your girls miss you

Bye, bye, Baby

Lindsay is growing in leaps and bounds. But more than that, she's evolved into quite an endearing little person. The itty bitty baby is gone, and I can already see the toddler emerging.

She's not into pulling herself up on stuff, but rather, she tries to stand in the middle of the room. She will crawl along, and slide her feet under her a la downward facing dog of yoga fame, land on one knee to hold her upper body straight. It is as though she is training herself in the art of standing. She is expert at crawling, sitting, turning her body mid-sit and changing direction.

Her vocalizations are starting to become deliberate sounds. Alec and I heard her first distinct word about a week ago, "Mama!" She repeated it until she got fed. This week, she's been working on "Uh oh!" She was surprised by Seamus jumping on the bed while she was sitting on it. When I said "Kitty", she responded with "Psssst" as though she was calling the kitty.

She continues to enjoy eating baby food, and likes everything she's tried except green beans, which she usually spits. She enjoys gnawing on a Zwieback cookie with her very sharp tooth. I noticed today there is a second tooth starting to erupt.

She hates getting dressed, and loves to have her tooth brushed. She opens her mouth and makes a "Nuh nuh nuh" sound. She loves bath time. She prefers to recline, feet in hands, a toe or two to nibble on and watch Lauren play with toys.

Weird religion

We've been reading a book nearly nightly about Passover. It's a great little book that explains the story of Exodus, as well as the symbols used during a Seder. We usually attend at least one, so I figured this year it would make it a little less boring for her if she knew what was going on and why.

I had a little trouble explaining WHY the door is opened for Elijah the Prophet. She insisted that the illustrator did a "Very bad job because you can't see him". I tried to explain that you don't actually see him. Pouring him a glass of wine and opening the door for him is symbolic. She didn't like that answer. I mean, if you're going to open the door, someone better show up.

We've also been talking about Saints Valentine and Patrick. Now, the story of Saint Valentine is a bit more concrete, but Saint Patrick and the Irish snakes? She demanded, "So where are the snakes now? Did he put them on a plane and send them somewhere else?"

I have no answers.

Small, petty, and stupid

I didn't get enough sleep last night. I knew as I had trouble falling asleep, that I only had a precious few hours until Lindsay would demand a snack, but what I didn't count on was Lauren in and out of my room from 2:30 until 5 AM, culminating in Lindsay deciding that she was neither hungry, nor needing a diaper change, she just wanted to whine at me.

So, the day didn't start off with stellar parenting...and to cap it off, the second day of "Nanny says" and "Nanny lets me" had me glowering. "Nanny says I need a hair cut" was the final straw. I have no idea why, but there it was. And a four-and-almost-a-half-year-old who is tired and whiny going on and on about how hungry she is for lunch to then proceed to drop most of her macaroni on the floor and then complain that "Nanny doesn't make me eat leftovers". I think I said things that weren't particularly nice about how she's not old enough to understand multiple sets of rules and I was quite certain THIS was the last overnight for a while, and there would be A Nap this afternoon after school and there would be Bedtime By 7:30 PM Sharp in the jabbing tone my mom reserved for our overnights with grandparents and too much candy, staying up too late, and no rules.

But, really, it just boils down to a couple of points. I can't stand being undermined. And then there's all the toys and clothes. And she said to Lauren that she buys stuff for her so I don't have to...like I don't want to. And every fun thing I try to do today winds up not being as cool as the stuff Nanny did, so now I feel small. And petty. And stupid. Because, it IS stupid.

I'm the Mom. That's my job. It's my job to say no, to set limits and boundaries, and sometimes that isn't fun. A lot of the time, that isn't fun.

Oh puleease...

"Do you need help unzipping your parka?"

"Yes, please, Mom."

"Don't forget to take your snack and your folder out of your backpack."

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been going to school for years. I know to take out my snack and folder out."

"Ok, honey."

"You don't have to remind me."

Me, worry?

I have mixed feelings discovering that the 2 unnamed algae eaters are not dead. They were darting about Lauren's 6 gallon tank this morning, seemingly happy in the green, murky tank. Mixed feelings because this means we can't break down the tank. We also have a languishing 20 gallon saltwater tank in our living room, which is the slum home of Marlin the Black Percula. No, I didn't mean that as a slur. It's not his fault the tank is dank. And all of our pets are black.

I'd been enjoying the little glimpses Mimi's blog offers into life with Dad. Today's post had me particularly concerned though. I know you can't tell people who are newly in love anything. But sure as the engine light comes on in your car the moment you've passed the "Next Exit 27 Miles" sign on the highway, I feel I should warn her or something. Dad is a great guy. If you get stuck on a desert island, in an elevator, or in New York City traffic, he will manage to keep you laughing the entire time...but Mr Fix-It he ain't. If the repair goes beyond what can be mended with either duct tape or an electric screwdriver, he's got the super on speed dial.

I realize that getting spoiled at the grandparents is a part of all kids' lives. But sheesh, with the whining, sassing, and just bad manners the day after an overnight with Nanny and Poppy, it leaves me wondering who benefits from these visits. Oh, and if anyone is keeping score? The fruit snacks were in the goody bag for the ride home. I've only mentioned she can't eat those oh, every time her snacking habits come up. *sigh* I think it will have to be a while until the next sleepover.

As the bowl flushes

Not only do I regretfully have to announce the demise of Candy III, but also the remaining 2 Cookies and the algae eaters, yet unnamed.

We're thinking that Alec's saltwater tank savvy just doesn't translate cross-platform to freshwater...and also, that maybe Candy IV will be one of those magnetic fish.

A meme for Saturday

I tagged myself for this meme from Gemosophy:

1. My Rock Star Name: Cindy Hilltop

2. My Movie Star Name: Victoria Dark Chocolate

3. My "Fly Girl" Name: HAN

4. My Detective Name: Emerald Aardvark

5. My Soap Opera Name: Anne Hartford

6. My Superhero Name: The Green Syrah

7. Futuristic Name: Miracle Rocket Dog

You can do it too! Here's how:

1. (your first pet, a street name you lived on as a child)
2. (grandfather/grandmother on your mom's side, your favorite candy)
3. (first initial of your first name and first two or three letters of your middle name)
4. (favorite color, favorite animal)
5. (middle name, city where you were born)
6. ("The", your favorite color, your favorite drink)
7. (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne, the name of your favorite shoes)

Happy Groundhog Day!

Yes, that's Steve Burns. And yes, he does look very different with no hair.

Changes

"May I please change my birthday to Valentine's Day?"

"What? No. You can't change your birthday, honey. It is the anniversary of the day you were born."

"But Valentine's Day is a special day."

"Your birthday is also a special day."

"Can I decide what to do on my birthday?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Mom."

You get what you pay for

That's what Dad always says.

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On some Mondays...

"On some Mondays, it's Martin Luther King's birthday. But, he's dead. So he doesn't have cake."

Lauren on the phone with a classmate.