I guess it's better than 'I saw it on TV'

"Mom, come meet our new ladybug!"

"Oh, you found a ladybug? How old is it?"

"It is 12 years old," Lauren replied, as she counted its spots. "And it is yellow."

"Cool. A yellow ladybug."

"I am just glad it is not white."

"Oh?"

"Because white ladybugs are cursed."

"They are?"

"Yes. I read it in a book."

Master Negotiator

"So, we wanted to know if we swept off the steps and the front porch, will we earn a quarter?" Lauren asked.

I closed my eyes, thinking about this. "You each want a quarter?"

Lauren nodded.

"Well...ok. I suppose it is worth 50 cents..."

Lindsay piped up, "Actually, I want four dollars."

I laughed.

Lauren added. "Wow. I didn't think to ask for four dollars..."

Lindsay said nothing and continued to stare at me earnestly.

"I'm going with 50 cents..."

"Ok," Lauren said happily.

Lindsay scowled and picked up her broom. Glancing over her shoulder, she muttered, "I'm going with four dollars."

Of course my first post in forever is about poop

After months of "She'll do it when she's ready" to reading every potty preparation resource on the Internets, to knock down drag out fights to get this little person to at least try to go potty, Lindsay decided it was worth going for the promise of toys. Little miss thing has been in dry "pantalettes" for the entire day.

I was beginning to sweat sending my daughter to college in Princess Pull-Ups.

Omnious milestones

Here's Lindsay having her post vaccination treat - a strawberry frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles. She felt the Ming Ming sticker didn't match up with her pain and suffering, and hey, I can always go for an iced coffee.

At 3 years old, Lindsay weighs 26 pounds and is 35 inches tall. The doctor tells me that is just shy of the 10th percentile for both height and weight. She stubbornly refused to speak to or in front of the doc, he had to go out of the room to observe her language skills (which are considerable) and laughed when the answer to all his questions was "when she feels like it" (eg, Does she use the potty? When she feels like it. Does she eat well? When she feels like it.) The nurse batted an eye at "She doesn't drink milk" (why are they so obsessed with milk?), but the doctor did not. He also diagnosed the angry itchy patch inside her elbow as eczema, which was a relief because we thought it might be ringworm and it just won't go away. It was doing better for a while with tea tree oil, but now it isn't. He recommended hydrocortizone cream, which also seems for crap.

Simple questions, weird answers

"Good morning, Lindsay!"

She replied through her thumb, nestled in between the stretched stitches of Hatty and The New Color Wonder, "Mornin', Mom."

"How did you sleep?"

"Like a pig."

Stifling a laugh, I asked, "A pig?"

She snored loudly, snorted, and then replied with a laugh, "Yeah, like a pig."

Not a toddler anymore

Here's my big girl:

Lindsay, April 2009

What I'm good at

"Don't you have a very big stroller?" Lindsay asked.

"No, grown-ups don't get to ride in strollers, but it's okay because I am a very good walker."

"No. You are a very good pusher."

I laughed, "I am a good pusher?"

"Yeah, you push my stroller good."

Epiphany's Earth Day

I'm in a bit of a mood right now. Linds just threw up her breakfast, which was oatmeal and orange juice which I have to say has to have the foulest smell and most disgusting texture of anything that could come out of a person. And? This was INSIDE the couch. Who sits inside a couch? Lindsay. Also? If you have Method products while they may kill ants, they absolutely don't touch something that stinks. I sprinkled some lavendar essential oil but really it is just adding to the awful smell.

Oh, and? Small child who dropped my hairbrush in the potty (the only reason I can fathom why the hairbrush and now MY HAIR smell like pee), Mama says, "grr".

Yesterday, I had to take the Mazda to the dealer to have one of my airbags replaced. It was not functioning properly, but did not deploy. It meant I had to leave my car most of the day, but since it was a warrantee repair, I was rented a free car from Enterprise. The well-dressed young man (they really have a very snazzy staff there) picked me up, helped me move my two car seats, and entertained Lindsay while I installed them. He was entirely smitten with Lindsay, who in typical Lindsay fashion refused to speak with him and would only shake her head. It went something like this:

"It's nice to meet you, Lindsay. You can call me "E". "

Lindsay shook her head.

"Can you shake my hand?"

Lindsay shook her head.

"Are you excited to ride in my silver car with your Mommy?"

Lindsay shook her head.

When we got to the office, things remained terse.

"Do you want to get the white car," he pointed, "Or that big black one?"

Lindsay shook her head.

I completed the paperwork to rent the white Corolla. E vacuumed it and moved the carseats into it for me. As I installed Lindsay's seat, he said, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Lindsay - I hope I see you later. Will you wave goodbye?"

Lindsay shook her head.

Things didn't improve when I returned with both girls later.

"Hey, Lindsay. Welcome back! Can I get a wave?"

Lindsay shook her head.

"Is that your sister?"

Lindsay shook her head.

"Would you like a little rubber car? I have one for your sister..."

Lindsay shook her head.

"Alright, well. Maybe another time."

Her face crumpled and lower lip began to quiver. Suddenly, she was shrieking, and of course, poor E felt terrible. He tried to hand her the car, but she only would agree for him to give me the car and she took it from me, still sniffling. Despite this, E drove me back to the dealership and offered to keep the kids in the car with him while I ran into to sign the paperwork and pick up my keys. When I returned, Lindsay threw her car at E, and Lauren was kicking the back of his chair. I found out later that they were playing keep away with the rubber cars, this was after Lauren erupted into tears that he took her car away, and when I put Lindsay into her seat in my car, she asked, "Is E coming with us?"

Poor E.

A very long week

Alec was out of town last week, and that always makes for a long week.

My dishwasher was broken. Which isn't a big deal unless you bake 3 loaves of bread and a batch of bagels, and then it's a huge pain in the ass. But y'know that hubs came home, took it apart and fixed, I can just push that button and my dishes come out clean and hot.

I have a paper due next week, which, unfortunately will mean another week of only 144 character updates from me. I'm not terribly stressed about the paper. I keep having little bursts of inspiration - yesterday during class, I managed to outline it a bit, and I wrote another piece of it during the sermon at church today. Once I have time to sit down and weave these bits together, it should be fine.

Lindsay started Mommy & Me at a new preschool. Lindsay never wants to do what anyone else is doing, so it is instead of this nice bonding time where we sing songs, me singing songs and chasing Linds around trying to get her to sit still for two freaking minutes while every other kid in the room is doing exactly what they are supposed to with their mommies holding little babies in their laps. There was a 10 minute "I don't want to have a snack tantrum". I'm hoping this preschool will work for her for the fall, but so far it is just making me want to pull out my hair.

I was approached today to speak about the things I'm doing with our food, and I am feeling sort of anxious about the idea. I feel like the things I'm doing now are good and work for me and my family, but the thought of it framed like "this is how to do it" seems jarringly wrong to me. I have to think about it some more.

Preacher, Mountain Lion

"Rosa Parks was a mountain lion." Lauren announced during supper.

"Oh? How was Rosa Parks a mountain lion?"

"Mountain lions 'fight the fight for what is right'," she chanted.

"So, you don't agree with the book that Rosa wouldn't get up because she was
tired?" [One of the statements her reading book made was that some people
think Rosa didn't get out of her seat because she was too tired.]

"She was tired! She was tired of racism. She couldn't stand it anymore, so she
wouldn't stand up."

I replied, "That makes a lot of sense."

"Martin Luther King was a mountain lion," she continued. "He 'fights the fight
for what is right'. And he was a preacher."

"Yep."

"He had a dream about black people having the same things as white people..."

"Yep." I said. "Martin Luther King thought everyone should have the same rights."

"Well. Everyone SHOULD have the same rights." She rolled her eyes.

"Yep."

"Pastor Seth is a mountain lion."

"Oh?"

"He fights the fight for people who weren't born here because he thinks that
everyone should have the same rights. He 'fights the fight for what is right'."

"Mmm hmm."

"Except on Sunday."

"Hmm?"

"On Sunday, he is preaching."

Beep

I posted last week about being frustrated my washing machine has a broken part. It turns out last week also saw a shelf in my brand-spanking-new (well, Mudda bought it for me in August) refrigerator, and the keyfob for my car. The shelf and keyfob were not more than a hassle, really. Remember when we used to use a key to get into a car? Well, I had to use my key. I'd not noticed until now that there's only one keyed entry on the car - the driver's side - and not into the passenger door or the trunk, as I recall on my vehicles made before 1990.

Lindsay had a nap, and awoke grumpy. I was carrying Linds under an arm, kicking and screaming, along with her shoes. I had my denim jacket with my keys in the pocket under my other arm. I realized I had to set Lindsay, still screaming down, to get the keys out of my pocket. I did, picked her up and went to unlock the door with the key. Somehow I managed to set off the panic system, so the horn began beeping and all the lights flashing. Without a working keyfob, there's no way to turn it off.

Beep beep beep, honked the car as I unlocked the doors. Beep beep beep, as I put Lindsay into her carseat, no longer kicking and screaming, but with wide eyes. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. I started the car. Beep beep beep. Locked and unlocked. Beep beep beep. I stepped away from the car and called the service center. Beep beep beep. There's no off switch. Beep beep beep. "Maybe it will work over the phone if you call your husband?" Beep beep beep. Neighbors have begun gathering in my driveway, making their own suggestions of Alfredo who replaces watch batteries. But now it is 3:15 and I am late to get Lauren. "Can I drive the car with it going off?" I asked the mechanic impatiently. "You will probably get pulled over." He replied. "Well, I can live with that," I replied.

"They'll hear ya comin'," my neighbor Ed added helpfully.

As it turned out, the horn stopped beeping once the car was in drive, and as long as you didn't open or close a door, or put the car into park, the car was silent. Of course, I had to open the door to let Lauren in, and a small crowd gathered to see why some maniac mom was honking her horn and flashing her lights. Beep beep beep. I rolled down the window, "My car is broken, so sorry," I shouted at the staring crowd who nodded sadly in reply. Beep beep beep. "It's been doing this for a half hour now," I added. Beep beep beep.

I drove the car to the dealership. My new friend Stu the mechanic gave my girls each a package of cookies, replaced the batteries in my fob, and set us off on our merry way within 30 minutes, all for no charge.

Signs of the apocalypse

I am the Queen of the Mommy Driveby. My youngest child is often shoe-less (who knew so many people were offended by tiny bare feet?) and coatless.

Today, not one, but TWO people complimented my parenting.

People? The world is ending. Take cover!

I stopped to get a cup of coffee as I was leaving the grocery store. Linds was in the cart, parked a couple feet behind me. A woman, decked out in jogging gear was behind me in line. I turned to check on Lindsay, and she said, "Your daughter doesn't know her name."

I thought, um, no she doesn't know you. But instead said, "Lindsay is feeling shy today," and smiled goodbye, as I headed to put some milk in my coffee.

An older Asian man approached me, "You are an excellent mother!"

I must've looked shocked. "Thank you." I said, uncomfortably.

"I heard you talking to your daughter before," he said, "It is so smart you are teaching her not to talk to strangers!"

"Oh. Thanks," I replied. "Have a nice day!" I quickly put the lid on my coffee and we headed to the car. Linds and I discussed the groceries as I loaded them in. She wanted a strawberry and some crackers. I handed her the strawberry, which she quickly de-stemmed, and tucked the box of crackers under my arm as I buckled her into her car seat. Then I opened the box and handed to her.

"Wow, you really need an extra arm, don't you?"

I looked up at the woman getting out of her car opposite mine.

"Oh, ha ha." I replied.

"Unloading groceries, getting the kid in the seat, and giving her a snack at the same time."

"An extra arm would be really great!" I agreed. "Have a good day!" I said quickly running the shopping cart to its corrale.

Seriously. If you have a storm cellar, you might want to head down there now...

Happy girls at Friendly's

Sounds from Chez Stoll

*crashing sound of Lindsay taking the drawer of markers out of Lauren's plastic storage drawers*

*Lauren running in from the dining room* "Linds, are you OK?"

"Yep. Got the markers."

"Cool! Come on, SuperLindsay!"

"I want to be a Superpony..."

"Alright, come on, SuperponyLindsay, let's go color!"

"Alright!"

Learning things with Lindsay

Today we made our weekly trek to Target. It was ostensibly to get paper which I ran out of in the middle of helping Alec with 4 months' worth of expense reports, maple syrup, and apple juice. Lauren let me know if I was going to Target, she'd finished the "Ivy and Bean" book I'd bought her there, and if they have more, she'd like another one (or Captain Underpants...though she was sure I'd gotten those at the church thrift shop, and we discovered I'd gotten one that she hadn't read...ooh!).

Lindsay and I have been working on a couple of things - letters and potty. She's not vaguely interested in either. Yesterday, she managed to go about 2 hours (from an hour before dinner time until bath time) wearing and not peeing on Elmo underpants, but insisted on her Dora pull-ups this morning (ah well). While perusing the "young children's educational" section, she chose a book called "Dora and the Different Colored Easter Eggs" which teaches colors in English and Spanish. Unfortunately, I only know how to pronounce the primary colors in Spanish. Luckily, the very helpful Target staff was willing to help out (talk about a full service operation!)

And speaking of learning things, I found this note after Lindsay and I took a nap yesterday:

"I am allone downstairs. Please come and see me when you wake up!"

It was written very neatly on an unlined notecard in pencil. Although there was a mispelled word (though it might be that she combined "all" and "alone"), the capitalization and punctuation were both correct...

Just kidding

Apparently I just have to write that I might be on hiatus and then I suddenly have a lot to say.

Last night was Ash Wednesday, so we were at church. Lauren found out that the pastors' kids were playing in the nursery during the service, so since I was singing in choir and Linds was going there anyway, I dropped her off there.

"Hey, Olivia is here."

"Of course she is."

"Mom, did you know that Pastor Patty is Olivia's mom?"

"Actually Olivia has two moms."

"Oh!" she said. "I have two dads."

"Um. No, you don't."

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully, "Alec is my dad, but God is also my father."

"Oh...huh. I guess I hadn't thought of that," I said.

***

Lindsay sang the Not Perfect song at Lauren.

"I'm not perfect," replied Lauren. "But you're not perfect either, Lindsay."

"I AM PERFECT," she shouted.

"No, you're not," Lauren sang.

"I AM PERFECT!!!"

"No, Lindsay, the only perfect person is Jesus." Lauren explained.

"AND LINDSAY!"

Extracurricular

I bought a book at the beginning of the school year with activities in it geared toward the first grader. As with so many things, I had good intentions. A way to feed Lauren's intellectual curiosity. The book had remained until yesterday on the shelf in the downstairs bathroom.

We were sitting together at the dining room table, she with pencil and homework package. Every week they receive this - a list of spelling words with spelling exercises and a few pages of to drill whatever math skill they're working on. I sat reviewing my philosophy essays, writing things like Anselm: God is something that which nothing greater can be conceived.

"What's in the 'Everything Your First Grader Should Know' book?"

"Lessons about different subjects."

"Can we do one?" She set down her pencil. "I only have one more sentence and one more page of math."

"Sure." I retrieved the book. "What subject? Oh, how about Art?"

"Really?! Art is in there? That's so cool!"

We read about color and looked at a painting by Monet next to another by Whistler, and at the end of the lesson, the assignment was to draw something twice - first in bright, vibrant colors and then in dark, somber colors.

She probably spent an hour working on these two. We talked about which one she liked better, though I think you can probably tell by the grinning sun...

For the time capsule

"Com'on Wa-Ren lets pway I spy. I say, 'I spy wid my widdle eye...somsing...bwue.' Wa-Ren! How come you not guessin'? I sayed 'I spy wid my widdle eye...' Wa-Ren!!! I SPY WID MY WIDDLE EYE!!!"

Secret mucus

Wow, that's even a double entendre.

Lindsay has been announcing all day, "Yellow cheese has a secret!" I'm telling the Internet - the secret is cheese. I have no idea what that means.

Lauren brought home a book today about the common cold. She did an impressive job reading about viruses and bacteria. One of the ways your body heals itself is by producing extra mucus. Lauren asked, "What's mucus?" "Snot." I replied. She looked utterly horrified and disgusted. I think if the next sentence in the book hadn't been about ushering germs out your nose via the extra mucus, she wouldn't have believed me.

Shannon

In memory of Shannon the Cat Stoll, April 1997-January 2009

I hope that there is a kitty Heaven with a warm radiator for little Shannon to hide behind.

She had the highest-pitched meow of any cat I've ever known. She sounded like a kitten, even as a full-grown cat.

She hated being picked up. And she would not sit on your lap. You could pet her but only if you sat really still and didn't pursue her if she jumped down.

She was wary of any non-catfood offered to her, except tuna. She would eat meat, but only if you weren't looking directly at her.

In every place we lived except our current house, her favorite place was the top of the cabinets. In our house, her favorite place was inside the box spring of our bed.