Thankgiving weekend

Lauren in her Native American costume for the Thanksgiving sing-along

Alec and Lindsay on the carousel

Lauren, Lindsay, and Epiphany riding the Christmas train

Making our own traditions

We had prepared the "pumpkin" (it was actually butternut squash) pie from scratch on Wednesday along with the cornbread, and started brining the turkey. The turkey and roasted spiced sweet potato recipes were the one we'd used last year, but the sage and chestnut stuffing, brussel sprouts sauteed with pancetta, pear, walnut and bleu cheese salad were all new recipes.

We wore jeans yesterday. The television blared the Macy's parade and then football. I was relieved to be able to do laundry, including stripping the beds and washing the sheets. I know that probably sounds ridiculous, but there was always so much pressure growing up to uphold this imposed formality that was void of normalcy, that something as simple as folding sheets was grounding. It felt good to be barefoot.

Being home this weekend means we can put up our Christmas tree, which feels so much less pressured than it always did trying to squeeze into a weekend in December when we're being pulled in so many directions.

Giving thanks

I'm thankful that my children are fortunate enough to know 5 of their great grandparents.

I'm thankful for the wisdom and guidance from our parents, even if sometimes they behave like crazy people. Sometimes we behave like crazy people also.

I'm thankful for the strength of my brothers, and for my sister-in-law Maria, the love of my brother Ben's life.

I'm thankful that my sister is still with us.

I'm thankful for the love, perspective, and support of my husband who is still the smartest person I know.

I'm thankful for my daughters who keep me grounded in the present, bring love and laughter to my life, and remind me that every day is a blessing.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A bonus video

Lindsay demonstrates that the strength in marketing of children's toys. Sorry this one is a bit dark.

Lindsay at 18 months

Lindsay,

I captured this picture of you today at breakfast so that someday when you're big you can see what a serious little person you were. You're eating oatmeal with walnuts, honey, and bananas, and carefully using the spoon to retrieve the oatmeal and picking out the slices of banana with your fingers.

Lindsay, November 2007

We moved you out of your high chair and into a booster at the table last week. You seem to enjoy eating with the family, and simultaneously decided it was no longer acceptable to use plastic toddler utensils, and insist on using a regular teaspoon and salad fork like your sister does.

Tomorrow marks your half birthday, and you will be 18 months old. I forget sometimes you're not bigger than that because you're so independent. You insist on walking from the house to the car, and remind me when I put you in your car seat "Seatbelt on!" You've warmed up to the idea of playing at the gym daycare during the week and call it, "Play with the kids" as you say,"Go now. Play with the kids." I'm surprised at your affinity for new words - it's between 3-5 per day now, and for Daddy, who travels every week, it's an even bigger shock.

You're still very tough on your big sister, and often pull her hair or give her a smack upside the head when you're playing together. More often, she plays and you play along side her - taking care of a doll, or in the play kitchen.

I love you,
-Mama

Texting and other modern conveniences

I've been receiving a lot of text messages lately. Some of them from people I don't know. One of them claiming to be my favorite student and asking me if I was at the musical. "Sorry wrong number," I wrote back to receive a last message: "Oh my b."

Last night I received one that said: "We're at CBs and nine drag queens are here."

Not recognizing the number, and stumbling over where CBs (Manhattan, maybe?) might be, or whether it might be expected that there would be transvestites (9 of them), I wrote back, "Yay. I love a parade." because I couldn't think of what else to say. Maybe they were expecting this? Maybe they were inviting me to come see it, ala Lucky Chengs? "Where are the rest of them?" was a close second option for a response. "We just had to leave," the text-er wrote back. "Are they pretty?" I asked. "Have you seen Some Like It Hot?" was the question in response.

After a few messages, I pieced together that it was Nick messaging, whose number isn't in my cell, and that he and Jessie were at the local steakhouse - a Charlie Brown's - when the party of pretty men arrived.

For your viewing pleasure

Comprending concepts

The language development in the past two weeks for Lindsay has been really remarkable. The process of learning to communicate I found fascinating with both girls. Lauren was (and still is) a collector of words. She had probably a hundred or so words when she began pairing them. Lindsay's focus is phrases. Technically, her first word was three words strung together, "Here you go" she would say, handing over her blankets in the morning. If you read Worst Mama, you heard that I made her angry enough in the car that she used her first formal sentence, which was, "I want my drinky, Mama!" I noted today that when I hand her something - a drink, a banana, a cracker - she says, "Cue cue" for Thank you.

Lauren is in the phase right now where I am constantly having to spell words for her. Each week, they formally learn a word - to read, spell, and write it. She sings songs about these words. She came home with a miniature composition book and began drawing pictures of various objects outside (a tree, a bag of leaves, a scarecrow) and attempting to write the word underneath. She wrote "lef bag" and "skercro", and I wrote the words underneath them as neatly as I could manage.

Say cheese

About to snap a picture of the girls, I said, "Say cheese!"

Lindsay looked around, interested. "Cheese!"

"Look over here, Lindsay!"

"Cheese...and crackers?!"

Parroting

Lauren (from time out): I'm sorry, Mommy.

Lindsay: I sorry, Mommy. So sorry.



Me: Are you hungry?

Lindsay: Hungy, Mommy. So hungy.

Jersey Kabuki

My neighbor Ed the ex-Marine is out in his front yard wearing his pajamas and a bright blue bathrobe.

Perhaps came out to get his paper?

Ah yes. Bliss. He tucks it under his left arm.

He turns.

But something is amiss.

He looks around the corner.

He darts into a bush.

Something is wrong. Someone is missing.

He ducks behind his shrub and returns holding a small black cat. This cat recently started appearing on the scene. She is black and looks startlingly like my cat Shannon except she wears an orange collar (Shannon's is black).

He places the cat gently next to the food bowl on his front steps, and returns into the house with his newspaper, victorious.

And another one bites the dust

All and all, I am dissatisfied with my little borough over this Halloween season. As you know, my candy was swiped. I'll give you that leaving $25 worth of candy in a bowl in your yard is sort of tempting, but my neighbors do it every year. Perhaps it was the Cadillac selection - peanut butter cups, almond bars, malted milk balls, and chocolate covered toffee bars that were just too good to pass up dumping the bowl into his pillow case.

But today, discovering that all the remaining jack-o-lanterns in our neighborhood were smashed in the street put me over the top. Especially since mine, pictured above, was in the garbage the day after Halloween because it was rotten. It was such a poor harvest this year that I'd put out some of my indoor decorations to round out our display. I've labeled the fake ones.

Would you believe someone swiped 2 of my fake pumpkins? Why would someone need to do that? What could you possibly do with 2 rubber pumpkins? They don't splat satisfyingly on the pavement.

I liked those pumpkins. Lauren and I picked them out together when she was 3. We put them out around the house. Every year since, she's gotten excited to see the decorations come out. I know I can buy new rubber pumpkins. But it was my stuff and someone didn't care and just took it. I think that sucks a whole lot.

A bird in the house is worth how many in the bush?

Yes, you read that right. Sitting eating lunch with Lindsay yesterday, I'll admit I was a bit preoccupied. I was probably reading and eating, or chatting and eating. Although the jingle of Lauren's wind chimes in her room struck me as strange since I knew the windows were all closed, it didn't register there might be something amiss.

After Lindsay decimated her cream cheese sandwich, I scooped her up to put her down for a nap upstairs. As I turned into her bedroom, something flew past my head, brushing my ear. I screamed, ran downstairs and out of the house. Breathing fast, I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket. It appeared I didn't have the number for animal control programmed into my phone, but the non-emergency police number would do.

"Hi, this is Detective Scott..."

"Hi. This is Epiphany Alone and I live at this address. There's something flying around my second floor..."

"Uh...something?"

"I don't know if it was a bird or a bat...I screamed and ran..."

She laughed.

"No, seriously. I have no idea what it was, I just got out of there with my baby."

"Ok, I will send a patrol car over..."

The 7-foot tall policeman wasn't as amused that now he had to go upstairs, open a window, and shoo the bird out of the house. He did so as politely as he could muster, though he did quietly wonder aloud why I couldn't have just opened a window myself.

"It's all set, ma'am," he said, handing me a bird poop-stained towel.

"Thanks very much." I said.

What's that you say?

"One of the kitties is sad because he doesn't have an ear."

"Yeah, but that means you can make fun of him."

Lauren pulls a sad face. "Aw, Mom! Why would you make fun of the poor kitty?"

"What? It's not like he can hear."

"Aww, Mom!"

Here kitty kitty

Lindsay's interpreted that we're teaching her what animals say so that she can communicate with that animal. I noticed recently that whenever one of the cats walks by she says, "Me-yow!" as though in greeting.

She's decided Seamus, our cantankerous elder cat, is snuggly. Whenever she approaches him, she tries to hug him. He is very patient, as he was when Lauren was a tot, and will allow the light slappy petting and the occasional ear pull. Lindsay's hugs are the full-body type where she falls on him, "Me-yowing" as soothingly as an almost 18 month old can manage. She gave him a hug last night while he was eating his dinner, and he just continued chewing, barely acknowledging the 20 pound monkey on his back.

Yeah, I'm probably going to overlook the next bathroom peeing incident...

The Halloween Recap

Happy first day of Nablopomo, guys! Blog until the Internet explodes!

We had a very nice Halloween Chez Stoll. Lindsay and I went to the Y. Lindsay dressed up as Tinkerbell, and I went to yoga class. When I came down to get her, she was conning those Pillsbury cookies that you slice and bake from some woman who called herself Grandma. "She ate 3 already," she said. "She just kept asking for more."

Lindsay as Tinkerbell

We headed over to Lauren's class party. I read the kids a story. We had a snack of pretzels and juice. We played Ghost Bowling (Lindsay's bowling game with those plastic ghosts you hang from trees over them) and Halloween Twister (we glued ghosts, jack o' lanterns, witches, and black cat faces on top of a Twister game). We colored faces on printed jack o' lantern templates.

Kindergardeners playing Halloween Twister

After that, Lindsay and I had some humus for lunch at the picnic table we frequented last spring when Lauren was in PM Pre-K. Then we attended the Halloween sing along assembly and the annual costume parade.

My neighbor across the street's "graveyard"

We went out trick or treating around 5 PM, which was early this year because of the extra week of daylight savings. It meant that we walked a couple of blocks without finding houses with candy, which was actually OK, because it meant we had a pretty small haul this year. Because we were out, we left a bowl of candy unattended. It didn't last very long.

Before someone ignored the "Take one treat, please" and dumped the lot into their bag.

Green Puppy and Blue, anxious to go out

Trick or Treating is hard work...

When we got home around 6:30, Lauren asked that I take a picture of her face paint. The girls were tired, as was I from pulling them around in their wagon. We all went to bed pretty early last night.

Happy Halloween!

Scary and not fun

Alec is in Dallas this morning, and off to Berlin later today. Yes, Germany. Which makes my morning routine very exhausting and rushed no matter what time I get myself out of bed.

It was all going fine - girls were dressed and finishing their breakfast - until the critical moment we had to leave. Suddenly Lauren became a whiny mess who couldn't put on her own coat or backpack while I struggled to get Lindsay into her parka. "Get on your coat...I don't care if it's zipped," I snapped in my drill-sergeant voice, "Put on your backpack, get out the door!" I had Lindsay tucked under one arm with her parka, and the other opened the trunk and unfolded the stroller. "Coat!" Lindsay said. "Yes, I know we have to put on your coat," I said dryly.

"Mom, I need help zipping up."

I put Lindsay's coat on and tucked her into the stroller, zipping and buckling as one motion. "You really need to be a little more independent," I scolded as I struggled with her zipper.

Merrrow!

"Hey, it's Seamus!"

"Stay here, Seamus, I will be back to feed you in a few minutes." I said, pushing the stroller, "Come on, Lauren, we have to hustle or you'll miss the bus."

We made it to the stop with chatting time to spare. Just as the bus pulled to the stop a block away, Seamus walked into the middle of the street.

"Oh my gosh," said one of the dads, "Whose cat is that?"

"Mine," I replied. "Seamus! Get out of the street!" I parked the stroller and ran out into the intersection, scooping up the cat.

"He's sure dressed for Halloween," the dad said.

Of course, now I have a freaking out cat, a kid to put on the bus, and another kid to somehow get home in her stroller. I verbally ushered Lauren on the bus as Seamus finally struggled free and ran back across the street, fortunately traffic still was stopped for the bus, and made his way home.

As he followed me inside, he had the irrepressible arrogant air of a teenage boy. I was really hungry, he meowed.

Just words

The day my parents brought my little sister home, I crept into her room to watch her sleep. She came home from the hospital dressed in a white onesie with little yellow duckies on it with matching booties on her teeny feet. I leaned my chin against the rail of the crib and watched her sleep for a long time, inhaling the scent of powder that hung on the air. I remember feeling she was fragile, and there was some risk she wasn't a permanent fixture in our lives.

She was a scrawny baby with barely any blonde hair atop her head and huge blue eyes. Her first two years were marked with diagnoses I didn't understand at age 12. She spat up every meal and wasn't gaining enough weight.

My most concrete memories of her were when she was 2 or 3 and used to like to dress up in pink and purple, a little blur of sandy ringlets. She was so girly, like a little doll. The sister I'd always wanted.

She was 6 years old when I told her it wouldn't be long before I went away to college. She cried angry tears at me. "You..." She searched for the worst word she could think of, "...bug," she erupted.

I went away to college. I got married. I moved to the Midwest and settled in New York. She was 14 when she came down to spend time with Alec and I in our little apartment, singing Brittney Spears songs. We laughed and laughed. My brothers are really funny people. My sister is genuinely the funniest person I know.

We spent a few days together when Lauren was about 5 weeks old when I basically ran away from my life for a week, overwhelmed by motherhood, seeking refuge with my mom and my grandmother. It was a few months after she had a terrible car accident and had wrapped her car around a telephone pole. She seemed different, but we watched her run and she smiled and carried baby Lauren around to meet her friends.

It is a lifetime ago.

Lauren's lifetime.

I just wish she could find peace in her life. I want her to live her dreams, whatever they are. Because the idea of a world without her is far too dark for me to even imagine.

Better parenting

One of my dear friends once said that a lot of parenting is an effort to re-parent ourselves - to correct the wrongs of our parents so that each generation is a little smarter, better than the last. He doesn't have children. I add that, not because I think he's wrong, but because it provides some context. In the real world, not every parenting decision falls into this category. A lot of my parenting is down-and-dirty, split second decision-making. I do the best I can. Sometimes it isn't good enough.

I'm going to take a breath here and say this is just an observation. If you happen to be my parent you can probably take this very personally and decide never to speak to me again, but that would really suck so I hope you don't.

The single-most failure of my parents' parenting was in preparing me to have adult relationships. I don't know if they thought they'd have more time to accomplish that and the ill-timed failure of their relationship got in the way, that it was someone else's job (the school), or since no one taught them it was something that I was supposed to learn on my own.

When I was seventeen, I took my first trip to Planned Parenthood. One of my high school friends had just had a pregnancy scare and I decided I didn't want to be in that position. I didn't discuss this with my parents, as I didn't discuss any of the other details with them either. The boyfriend I was with was not my first lover. At that time, you could buy up to 12 months worth of pills directly from them. I bought 6 month's worth because that was how much cash I had on me when I was there. When I got home, I put the box in my bottom drawer under some clothes and put the current pack in my top drawer so I'd remember to take them every morning.

Although it wasn't the usual for my mother to put away my laundry, she claimed she found the pack in my top drawer this way. She screamed. Why had I done this without talking to her first. Didn't I know about the horrible side effects of the Pill? I was too young to be having sex!

I don't think I engaged her in this conversation. I listened to her scream for a while, and then I said coldly, "I'm not talking about this with you. If you want to ground me, that's fine...but I really don't have anything to say."

She threw the pack of pills on the table. "Fine."

We never spoke again about it.

Ever.

Why did I do it without talking to her? We'd had exactly one previous conversation about sex when I was 12. She seemed terribly uncomfortable. I already knew the details, and this conversation was just Hell. When I'd asked her about sex when I was 9, she refused to talk about it, so the awkward conversation 3 years later just sent along the message that she was not someone to talk to.

Did I know about the horrible side effects? Yes. A doctor informed me of some pretty mild side effects as juxtaposed with having an abortion or being a teen mom. I also knew that while condom use protected well against sexually transmitted diseases, it wasn't most effective at preventing pregnancy. I thought, and of course this is some chip-on-my-shoulder teenage impetuousness, that I was making a pretty responsible choice.

Was I too young to be having sex? Probably. I was already doing that though, so it seemed like a dumb topic.

What would I have said to my seventeen year old?

This is the hard one. I'd imagine the teenagers are interested in sex earlier than that these days. I'd like to think I'm not coming off to my girls as being unapproachable (though did my mom think the same thing?).

I'd probably still ask if she was having any side effects from the pill, because they can be common and there are so many formulations now that you can try if one doesn't agree with you. I'd remind her that while the Pill protects from pregnancy, it doesn't against sexually transmitted diseases - the most common of which can be symptom-free in women. I'd say that respect is very important in sexual relationships and to make sure she was being both respected and respectful. Beyond that, I don't know. I probably need to figure it out, because I'll probably have to have this conversation twice.

Friday morning

Some mornings I drive Alec to the train station. On the way back, Lindsay and I discuss which animals say what.

"What does the kitty say?"

"Mee-yow."

"What does the cow say?"

"Mu-ooo."

We drove to Target this morning to buy paper goods. As I went to take Lindsay out of the car seat she said, "Crackers?"

"No, honey. We've got to go into the store."

She put on her biggest, fake-est cry. Then she slapped the top of her head and pulled her own hair.

Seriously.

What IS that?

Picking the perfect pumpkin and other alliterative adventures

"I'd like a thermos made out of steel, like that one Nicole has..."

"Oh, ok. We can get one at Target the next time we're there."

"I think we should pay for it."

"Hmm?"

"I think we should not steal it."

"Oh, I see you're pointing out that steel, the metal, and steal, take something sound the same."

"Yes."

"That's called a homonym."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Homonyms sound the same, but are spelled differently and have different meanings."

"Cool."

There were four in the bed and the little one said

"Hi, Kitty. Me-yow!"

Signs that it's not going to be a very good day

From shotgun camp

Sunday's soccer game

That's Lauren kicking the ball. Andrew is mostly obscured by Ely, and Paul is standing on the right.

I don't know who those two moms are in the background wearing white shirts and jeans. They look buff though.

As part of my campaign

I'll let you know right now that it did flit through my head yesterday morning that I couldn't remember how many diapers I'd been through the day before. I usually tote around 3-5 of them and a package of wipes. Not those polite little recyclable containers, because I find they don't dispense moist wipes at critical moments.

It was a particularly stinky mess I'd cleaned up when I reached into the diaper bag and drew back empty handed. "Oh no." I said.

"What's up," Karen asked from the kitchen.

"No diapers." I was thinking, oh right, one change at the gym, two at Kim's yesterday. Three diapers gone.

"Oh," Karen said casually, "No problem. I might have some."

Karen is the quintessential hostess, so it would not surprise me if she did have a package of diapers even though her baby is nearly seven in the same way that my Gramma Jean (whose birthday is today - Happy Birthday, Gramma!) always has several different brands of cigarettes tucked away in her freezer in case you should run out even though she hasn't smoked since she was in her thirties.

"No," she said. "I'll just send Chris to get some at CVS."

The menfolk with Ross in tow went to get some diapers while we kept Lindsay in the kitchen. Karen was preparing salads for dinner and I was enjoying a beverage. Lindsay splashed happily in Pixie's water dish.

"I can move them if you'd like," I said.

"No need." Karen replied. "There's not much damage a little bit of water's going to do to the kitchen."

Lindsay wandered back and peed on the floor a couple of inches from my feet. "Oh, I see we didn't make it to diapers." As I stood up, I noticed that she'd also fertilized the floor. "Oh no." I said. "Poop."

"No problem," Karen said. We cleaned the mess together with paper towels. She sprayed the floor with some Method cleaner and all was right with the world, until we realized that poop had just been a distraction.

Why yes, that is my naked toddler giving herself a beer bath in a puddle of cat water.

Another day, another Mommy driveby

Lindsay has learned when we approach a counter when doing errands that she gets a lot of attention if she says "Hi!" loudly. She's reluctant to say "Bye!" although she can. Sometimes she gives a little waves, but oftentimes she just sort of stares.

It's a beautiful autumn day here - the leaves are starting to fall from the trees in shades of tan, yellow, and orange, and it's a humid 75 degrees. Lindsay's dressed in a pink t-shirt and a floral skort (skirt with shorts underneath).

As I was signing the "I don't want to talk to the pharmacist" paperwork for the 3 prescriptions I was picking up, an elderly man began talking to Lindsay.

"Why don't you have on your shoes?"

I didn't turn to acknowledge the speaker, because he hadn't asked me a question. I could've explained that she just takes off her shoes and that she'd managed to lose one of her shoes (purchased at Nordstrom) 2 weeks ago when the weather was cool enough to worry about socks. I took a step back so that I could keep Lindsay in my line of sight, but continued signing forms.

"It's silly that you don't have shoes on! A baby needs shoes!"

I handed the cashier my credit card.

"Your feet must be cold. Is that why you're holding them?"

I picked up the pen to sign my receipt.

"What's he got on his eye? A stye?"

"She has a hemangioma." I replied with my back to him, as I handed the cashier my receipt. "Thank you," I said as pleasantly as I could muster to the cashier.

"Bye bye," the man said to Lindsay flapping his hand at her. She stared back. "He doesn't say much does he?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and left without a word.

From her highchair perch

"Daddy? Mama? Daddy? Mama? Wuv ooh."

Romantic getaways

I'd been deliberately evasive about our weekend plans. "We're going camping," I'd told my friends.

That wasn't untrue. We stayed in a cabin a little way outside Binghamton. It had neither running water nor electricity. I prepared for this by spending the night before at the Holiday Inn, my previous idea of "roughing it". We went up with Alec's cousin Elissa and her fiance, Dan, trying to figure out who we were actually going to meet up there and why there was such a long prelude about the dog.

Shotgun camp.

What?!

Shotgun camp.

No, seriously. What did you do this weekend?

We spent the weekend at an intensive clinic to learn how to use a shotgun.

I was, as Lauren likes to say, more than a little apprehensive. On Saturday morning, I took copious notes in my composition book:

Your gun should always be unloaded if you're not firing it
It should always be pointed in a safe direction even if you know it's unloaded
Keep your finger off the finger off the trigger unless you're firing it

I learned how to load and shoot. I actually managed to hit some of the clay pigeons and steel plates despite having a short arm length and a cross-dominant eye. I have a good sized bruise against my left shoulder. But I expected I would learn a lot. I expected at the end of the weekend to have actually managed to shoot. I didn't expect it would be as much fun as it was. It was really great.

Number 3

Lauren and Paul at halftime on Sunday. United won (both sides, in fact).

Wild and sordid things

I almost have too much to write about this morning. Recall that line from Ghostbusters? "Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together - mass hysteria." Welcome to my yesterday.

My neighbor Ed stopped me last night to ask me if I have a huge black cat.

"Why yes, I do. A huge black cat with no tail."

He narrowed his eyes. "And he hates people?"

"Well, I don't know about that. He's a nice cat to us."

"My daughter Holly said it was your cat and he won't let anyone pet him."

"Yes, that's possible. He's only been out for a couple of days, he'll warm up."

"He was setting the motion detectors off back of my house..."

"Oh..."

"And was in my garage..."

"Oh, sorry..."

"Well, it's alright, I mean, there's a raccoon and a skunk living together in my garage..."

"Um, really?" I bit my lip.

He nodded vigorously. "They used to live under the front porch but I put moth balls there."

Note to self: moth balls keep animals from living together in sin.

Photo credit: Jerry McCrea/The Star-Ledger

On a serious note, we had an incident at the high school yesterday. Rumors were flying about a gun having been brought into the school. Bus stop conversation revealed that that wasn't so - there was a report of suspicious activity in front of the school, the middle and high schools (share a campus) followed lock down procedure, and the building was searched by the police. Nothing was found, well, except that the procedure is flawed and needs to be reviewed.

It's scary. I jokingly complain about the attitude of some of the staff at Lauren's school, but these are the people who are charged with executing these plans in assuring our children's safety. I'm not feeling good about that. Perhaps I'm seeing the exception and not the rule, but they seem pretty dissatisfied with their jobs.

My friends tell me these days I have volunteer-itis. I wanted to be involved because from the sidelines it seems that a lot of things go on that don't make a lot of sense. I'm involved now and still things don't make sense. I felt we'd achieved a victory by drafting that the kids can't be punished by taking away their recess, but that's meaningless if they're not safe on the playground, y'know?

I have no answers today.

Old cat, new tricks

Seamus is in the midst of some sort of mid-life crisis. He has been sneaking out of the house like a truant teenager. It seems he would prefer to spend his evenings alfresco, and come home in the afternoon for a snack and a trip to the litter box. Yesterday, around 2 PM, I heard him trying to open the front screen door with his paw. When it didn't work, he called with a loud meow for me to open it for him.

He hasn't messed the downstairs bathroom since we've been letting him out, though, I've been closing it when he comes in.

Shannon is happier, anyway. She's eating more. It's usually most apparent that Seamus is in a bad mood when Shannon drops some weight because he won't allow her downstairs.

I wonder if everyone else's cats are as neurotic as mine...

The worst birthday party ever

You know how much I enjoy parties. Heck, I had 3 of them this summer alone. Four if you count the dozen or so friends who had barbecue with us after the garage sale last weekend. I've become much better at keeping things pretty simple, finessing simple salad recipes, not spending 3 days cleaning my house for a 2 hour party.

During one of the summer street fairs, the girls and I visited the pottery/ Asian Arts center on Main Street. We toured the pottery studio, peeked in at the dance floor, and Lauren danced as they played their drums. The proprietress told me that they had birthday parties there, where the kids would paint figurines, enjoy a brought-in birthday cake, and then finish off the afternoon by playing drums and dancing around on their dance floor. About 6 weeks ago, I came back, was regaled with the same party scenario a second time, and paid my $50 deposit. "You can bring in any food and drink you'd like," she said. "And we just charge per piece, so about $15 per child."

So we ordered Lauren a Carvel Ice Cream Princess cake, and bought wine, cheese, crackers, and fruit. I had invited all the parents, figuring we would relax with snacks while someone else ran the show.

When we arrived, 15 minutes before party time, no one there knew we were supposed to be there. The woman working the pottery studio called Song, who was supposed to be our instructor. "She's about a half hour away."

So, Karen, Chris, and I set up our snacks, and I thought, well, 15 minutes late isn't too horrible. There was a Rutgers game yesterday at 3 and it was possible she was in traffic.

At 20 minutes past, the kids were restless. I went upstairs and selected pieces for all the kids. I realized Song was upstairs doing paperwork. "The kids are waiting..." I said. "I think we need to get started before they start running around the studio..."

She said, "Oh ok, I just got in, sorry. I will be right down."

She came down and began setting up paints and palettes for the kids, and passed out brushes. We parents hung back with our wine as the kids happily painted. About 20 minutes later, they were done and restless again, Song was nowhere to be found. We moved our pieces, cleared the palates, brushes, and paints, washed the kids up, and had Lauren start opening presents. Alec prepared the cake.

After cake, Song was still nowhere to be found. The kids were full of sugar and ready to run around. Alec and I looked at each other, weighing our options.

"I think we should just clean up and leave."

"I can't believe this." Alec said. "What was supposed to happen?"

I sighed. "This was the worst birthday party ever." I blinked away tears. But as I looked around, the kids seemed pretty happy. They'd painted stuff and eaten ice cream cake. As far as they were concerned, this had been a tremendous success.

From the Bronx Zoo

In the catbird's seat

We took a trip to the Bronx Zoo yesterday since the kids have off from school for Rosh Hashana. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and cool. "It'll be an easy drive," I told Fred, "since it's a holiday." I was right about the drive, but the Zoo was packed. It was the busiest either of us had ever seen it. Having avoided the huge line to enter, and survived the 40 minute food court line with 4 children in tow, here are some pictures I took in the Children's Zoo.

Paul and Lauren looking at the fish tank

Nicole and Lauren are a conjoined twin turtle

Fred feeding the sheep

Lindsay eating her raisins on the car ride home

A snapshot

I like this picture. It was taken in October 2002 and marked the first time I went out after Lauren was born. I look tired and pale. I even look a little pissed off. More accurately, I'm terrified and I thought the only way to get through that was to white-knuckle it. I'd fought a hard path to becoming a parent, and it was nothing like I'd thought it would be. I mean, I knew that babies wake up at all hours, but I don't think you can know what waking up every 2 hours for 4 months is like until you do it. You go through times where you're just too tired to even cry about it. At 28 in this picture, I had magical thinking that I would have kids and the rest of everything would suddenly become perfect. I think I've done some growing up since then.

For the year and change I've written this blog, I've known the title Abandon Hope doesn't suit it. There have been plenty of times - stretches of many years even - that I've felt faithless and deserted. But these past 5 years, I haven't been there. I haven't been dancing in fields of wheat either.

Yesterday I realized that the title of these over 600 little glimpses of my life, some of them funny and some of them whiny and annoying is Screw Perfection. A week before my 33rd birthday I realize that the times I'm happiest are the ones where I throw my hands in the air and don't try to be the perfect mom, wife, sister, daughter, or friend. It doesn't mean that I don't have plenty of personal goals, it just means that among them trying to be perfect isn't working for me. It's actually downright toxic.

So there it is. Screw Perfection.

What the hell is wrong with people?

Lindsay is cute as the dickens. She's just could-eat-her-up adorable. I know that. She's also a very tenacious little person who believes she can do just about anything. That's very cool, sure, but also hard when anything is to stand up in the shopping cart, yell "Whee!", and then plop down on one's bottom.

The woman who cooed over Lindsay in the line at Target didn't surprise me. She seemed very pleasant at first. She said hi, Lindsay said hi back. The woman was taken aback, as everyone is, because Lindsay is a small person and usually mistaken for younger. The woman held her hand in front of Lindsay, thinking she was going to hand her the stray clothing tag she held in her hand, but this is a Lindsay game where she pretends she will hand it to you, snatches it away, and then laughs. After this, the woman held her hand to be "slapped five", which Lindsay didn't oblige.

It was when the woman asked Lindsay if she wanted her to hold her that I became uncomfortable. By the time she asked Lindsay if she wanted to go for a walk around the store and pick out some candy that the adrenaline began pumping through me so fast that my ears were ringing.

I quickly scooped Lindsay up and held her on my hip. Lindsay snuggled her forehead against my cheek.

I'm sure she thought this was a perfectly pleasant interchange. I smiled and proceeded on to the checkout saying, "Bye bye, lady!" cheerfully rather than "What the hell made you think you were going to pick my daughter up out of my shopping cart and walk her around the store while I checked out, person I haven't met?"

My dad has a saying that goes something like "never attribute to malice what could be more easily explained by stupidity". I'm trying to hold out a little more faith for people than that, but damn, I was so certain in that moment this woman was trying to get her hands on my toddler. Too creepy.

Lauren is 5!

All that fun stuff

Today is Lauren's 5th birthday. Happy birthday, my big little girl! It seems like yesterday we tucked you swaddled in our arms and tried everything to get you to sleep. Now we cajole, and sometimes negotiate, and still hear you telling stories to your stuffed animals well after bedtime. You dress yourself most days in clothes that actually match, down to velcro shoes (can't tie yet) and socks. Your silly sense of humor cuts your seemly constant chatter. These days a fart joke makes you laugh like nobody's business.

Your usually sunny demeanor occasionally breaks into general irritation at how slow the rest of the world is, particularly your parents. You roll your eyes and sigh through pursed lips.

You've developed an appreciation for that little person who joined our family 15 months ago and get her in a way I don't. You're usually much better at guessing what she wants, even when it's rewarded with pulled hair or a smack on the head.

I love you, Lauren. Have a great birthday!

My own first day of class was excellent. I'm looking forward to it. The subject matter is somewhat tough - it's a biomedical course about AIDS - but it's a freshman level course so it seems pretty well-laid out.

What else? We did a major purge of stuff through a garage sale on Saturday. What didn't get sold got set curbside and it seems there are only a few items left for tomorrow's garbage day: a rusted sprinkler that was in our front yard when we moved in, a couple of lawn chairs circa 1980 that we'd purchased at a garage sale for a dollar apiece, the fan we removed from the dining room (its hardware has been picked out) and a few books.

We decided that we can't cook in a second car and our falling-apart 21-year-old refrigerator probably won't make it another 6 months, so we measured the cabinets we acquired in Alec's dad's house remodel, and got some paint, tile, and floor samples from the Depot. In laying out the kitchen, Alec discovered that we probably need to purchase a couple additional cabinet pieces. Which isn't a big deal. It just seems that money adds up very fast in the kitchen with a couple of thousand dollar appliances (and those aren't low-end, but they aren't the high-end either...) and the cost of counter top (geez! I would have to cash out both college accounts to have granite). The couple of things we've settled on long ago were a black-and-white checkerboard floor, white appliances (I think stainless steel is going to look dated shortly), and a tiled back splash. Although I had not initially liked the maple cabinets (I wanted white), I think it will work out well. The paint color has me swooning. Did you know yellow kitchens make for domestic discord? And that blue is an unappetizing color? So much to think about...

First day of school

Lauren awoke with Dora hollering "Come on! Let's GO! Vamonos!" from her little red alarm clock at 7 AM. She sleepily got out of bed, brushed her teeth and hair, and dressed herself for her first day at school.She came downstairs to her usual breakfast: a multigrain waffle cut into dip-able slices, a half an apple sliced similarly, a half tablespoon of honey for dipping, and a half glass of soy milk. She wore the pink sweater set she'd picked out at Macy's for her first day of kindergarten. After breakfast, I gave her the small box containing the tiny silver charm with the letter L with a diamond chip in it. "So you always remember how much Daddy and I love you, and your first day of kindergarten." She beamed.

We walked the mile to school, so we could be there early to set up for the PTO-sponsored breakfast for the parents. For the first time, she didn't complain that the walk was too long. We arrived at school, and set up in the cafeteria, meeting our friends Katie, who is in Lauren's class, and Mackenzie, who is a year ahead. Although I hadn't intended to, I waited in the library with the girls while the kindergarten teachers retrieved their students, and then walked with them to their classroom.

"I like kindergarten so much that after 30 years, I still come here every day," Lauren's teacher said cheerfully as she introduced herself to her new students and their parents. "We're going to discuss where we put our stuff when we come in every morning, so," she said smiling, "it's time to say goodbye to our parents..." She nodded in our direction.
I blew a kiss at Lauren.

She wiggled her way across the room and gave me a hug and a kiss.

"Have a great first day of school! I will see you at the bus stop."

"OK. See you later, Mom." She ran back to her place on the carpet and waved goodbye.

The last day of summer vacation

Lindsay, riding the carousel at Central Park

Yesterday, we were at school stuffing folders for the PTO. We met Lauren's new teacher and saw her classroom. The teacher seemed very nice, and the classroom is the second from the front door, close to the cafeteria and the nurse's office. Lauren is very excited about her first day of kindergarten tomorrow.

The last day of summer was spent with friends. We ventured into New York City to Central Park. We played on the playground, rode the carousel, visited the zoo, and ate ice cream. I don't think we could've scripted a better end to vacation.

I hope Lauren remembers this summer - lazy days at the pool, hanging out at her friends' homes, our great San Diego vacation with family, and some great day trips with friends to the zoos and beach.

Party pictures

The birthday girl and Auntie Jules

Grampie

Nick and Jack

Lindsay applauds Sybil's cake

Alec tries on Lauren's present

Lindsay after her shower with Mama

Auntie Jules and a skeptical looking Lindsay

Lauren enjoys her presents

Riding the carousel with Daddy

A few moments

Lindsay is napping and Lauren is at soccer camp, so I thought I'd take a few minutes to catch up.

San Diego was fantastic. I don't think I've had as much fun on vacation as I had on that one. It was wonderful to have a little window into James' life, to see his apartment and meet his roommate, but mostly just to hang out was really spectacular. We went to a game at Petco Park, saw Sea World, hung out at Ocean Beach, where Ben had his first swim in the Pacific Ocean and we all rode waves together, and saw most of the San Diego Zoo. My brothers and Maria are just about the ideal vacation companions - they're all relaxed and don't stress over who gets where when. We arrived at Sea World and the Zoo pretty much when they opened, because our girls were up at 7 AM every day. They joined us around lunch time, which meant we could get all the kiddie rides out of the way, and Lindsay pretty reliably fell asleep as we were walking around.

We're going to schedule a vacation next summer, probably on the East Coast. James said he'd come to Jersey. He really hates Jersey, so he must've had a good time.

She shoots, she scores!

Lauren, Katie and Coach Spencer

Katie scores!

Princesses