Because it's an election year

is really the reason that I haven't been able to update the blog in 4 (four?!) months. Charlie is a political junkie and although it may be difficult to discern his actual party affiliation (blame the moderators), he is not afraid to respond to the tough questions  with concise, decisive language.

An artistic temperament?

Sadly, I am not artistic, but my children have at least a hope of having some talent because they stand to inherit a genetic predisposition to artistic abilities from both sides of their family tree. As illustrated by this morning's comments, Henry may have inherited an artistic ability, or at least an artistic temperament.  After his breakfast, Henry likes to draw on his easel (he prefers the natural morning light). This morning, preempting my daily tooth-brushing reminder...

Henry: Mommy, I will brush my teeth after I am done with my creation. Do not ask me to brush my teeth until I am done, please. If you interrupt my work to tell me to brush my teeth, then I will not be able to finish my creation.
Me: You have until I am done brushing Charlie's teeth to finish your CREATION. Then, it will be time for you to brush your teeth.
Henry: Mommy, when you talk, it interrupts me, and I cannot hear what the drawing is saying to me.
I place Charlie on the ground. He toddles towards the easel. Smile wide. Eyes sparkling with mischief. Broken crayon in sticky hand.
Henry: Mommy! Mommy, pick up Charlie. No, Charlie! Charlie respect my creation.  Charlie, respect my cre-a-tion!

Poor Henry, when will his genius be recognized? Must he suffer this bourgeois life?

A good first impression.

This week marks the transition of the kids to a new "school year" at daycare. Henry has new teachers and a lot of new classmates. Charlie has the same teachers and friends but a new room. The daycare was closed all last week in order to prepare for this transition.

On the first day of the new year, Henry's class had kind of a "what I did on my one week break" discussion.  The teachers posted the responses for all to read.

Many children shared stories of going to the zoo and museums, visiting grandparents, playing outside, swimming...

What did Henry tell his class that he did on his week off?
"We had parties and watched TV."

Really, Henry? Really? This is what you shared with everyone. You went to the zoo and a museum. You visited grandparents, you took a plane, you swam in a pool, you went to a park, you even made some jewelry! I swear, new teachers and fellow parents, we didn't actually spend the entire week watching TV all day because we were too hung over from our parties at night. It was just that one day. And, really, you should have been there because that party was E P I C.

Meg-a-lif

Yesterday morning Henry asked me if he could have a meg-a-lif to eat. I said, "A what?" He repeated, "A MEG-A-LIF." I said that I didn't know what a meg-a-lif was. He said, "You know, when I ask Daddy for a snack and he says (Henry takes a robotic tone) meg-a-lif."

Mike often responds to inquiries with either a crisp "affirmative" or "negative"*.  And often, Henry's requests for snacks prior to dinner are met with a simple "negative."



*This tendency to respond with either affirmative or negative could be the result of years in the Navy or just years of watching Star Trek.

Dog Sundae - In which I stretch out a nonevent at the ice cream shop into a really long story

"One chocolate milkshake, one dino sundae, and a single scoop of Oreo ice cream, please, " is what I said to the woman working at our favorite ice cream place. Mike and I had taken Henry there as a special treat for behaving so well during his Dr appointment. Henry's favorite treat is the Dino Sundae, which is as it sounds, a dinosaur cookie stuck in a sundae.
The woman replied, "A chocolate milkshake, a dino sundae and a what?"
I repeated, "A chocolate milkshake a dino sundae and a single scoop of Oreo, please."
She said, "OK, that's a chocolate milkshake, a dino sundae and a single scoop of Oreo. Coming right up."
I am painstakingly transcribing this banter because I want to emphasize that the phrase dino sundae was spoken at least four different times during the exchange.
She returns to the counter, totals up the items, and then passes them through the window: the Oreo scoop, the milkshake, and a small dish that contained the tiniest, most perfectly spherical scoop of vanilla ice cream you have ever seen, placed next to a dog bone-shaped cookie. I glanced around looking for another customer who had forgotten their order. Usually, I am the type who meekly accepts the wrong order just so that I can avoid engaging in any additional dialogue that will only just exacerbate the original miscommunication. However, this time, since the order was intended for a 3 year old who had been hopping wildly about making up songs about how much he loved and couldn't wait to consume his Dino Sundae!!, I didn't want to deal with a meltdown. So, I said to the woman, "Oh, I asked for a Dino Sundae."
She politely, yet firmly, clarified my order, "You asked for a dog sundae."
I have to admit, I really admired her composure in this situation. Who cares about the customer always being right, she was poised and unyielding in her interpretation of events:  I gave her the wrong order, and I was unclear.
I was flummoxed about what to say next (see, this is exactly why I usually just accept the wrong order in the first place! Now, I had to respond and engage).
I started to say, "Oh, I'm sorry, but I meant..." but then I changed tactics. She was direct and polite, I'll be direct and polite. I didn't accept blame for the misunderstanding, nor did I blame her. I just said in response, "I need a Dino Sundae." and then I pointed to the PICTURE OF THE DAMN DINO SUNDAE RIGHT NEXT TO THE COUNTER because, you see, the Dino Sundae is one of their signature items and is probably ordered 100 times a day so it is not very likely that someone would order something like a dog sundae. What is a dog sundae, anyway?  Do people order sundaes for their dogs? I wanted to explain that there is no way that I accidentally misspoke and said dog sundae because I didn't know they existed, there is no picture of them on the menu board unlike every other item offered at the stand, I don't have a dog, and if I did have a dog, I just don't think I would be the type of person who would buy the dog its own sundae. But I didn't say any of that.
She returned a minute later with a dino sundae. I thanked her for the items, and then, because I am weak and couldn't stand not having closure on a non-event and even though it so was not my fault, I still said, "And I am sorry about the misunderstanding."
To which, she responded, laughing and in a cheery tone, "Oh, yeah, I was wondering what you were talking about with the dog sundae. I had never heard of that!"
So, wait... WHAT? She had never even heard of a dog sundae? She thought she heard a customer order an item that was not on the menu, she then proceeded to assemble what she envisioned the nonexistent menu item to look like (without requesting any further clarifications from customer, coworkers or supervisor, I might add), charged money for the newly created menu item (she must have estimated a price point?), and then rejected the idea, even the faintest possibility, that the customer never asked for this item in the first place. Wow. That person could teach me a thing or two about self-confidence.

Pizza wars

Last night we read a bedtime story about attending a pizza party...
Henry: I like pizza parties.
Me: (fairly certain that Henry had never actually attended a pizza party) Maybe you can have a pizza party with your friends someday? I went a pizza party once, and it was fun.
Henry: Well, I went to a pizza party when I was a baby.
Me: One time, when I was a little girl, my Brownie troop went to the Pizza Hut on a field trip and I got to make my own little personal pizza with whatever I wanted on top.
Henry: (clearly not impressed) Well, one time, I went to a party and it was with my friends but we rode in a school bus to a big skyscraper building and there was a egg and the egg cracked open and there was a pizza inside and I ate it except it wasn't a pizza it was just a shadow of a pizza so I had to take the space shuttle then rocket then airplane and then go down the slide with Daddy into the garden. The pink rose garden that we planted and it smelled so nice. A giant bird looked at us and flew away. We went inside the house and my friends were there for a party with bubbles everywhere and we had pizza.
Me: OKAY. I GET IT. YOU WIN.

I see trees of green

To tell you the truth, I have never been a fan of the song "What a Wonderful World."  I don't hate it, mind you. I would have at one time, perhaps, uncharitably described it as treacle, but that is only because my stone-cold heart  is uncomfortable with basic human sincerity. Perhaps because of this earnestness, Henry loves it. I had been catching snippets from time to time, he would sing just a quick phrase out of context "red roses too... " or "... the colors of the rainbow so pretty..." and I would think to myself,  what is that from? That sounds so familiar!  The other morning as I was dropping him off in his classroom, all of the children were quietly, happily, and cooperatively working on activities in small groups. Henry joined one group right away. I allowed myself an extra moment to just take in that scene alone - perfect, progressive old Italian educator - inspired preschool at work. Then, something extraordinary happened. Music was playing in the classroom and the song "What a Wonderful World" began. Suddenly, I noticed all of the children gently swaying and singing softly to themselves. They all knew the song (clearly a classroom favorite), and everything seemed so calm and peaceful and everyone seemed so kind to one another.

So now, dammit, not only do I kind of love the song, it even prompts an emotional response (I know, I know) because for now on, every time I hear "What a Wonderful World", I will remember Henry as a three year old wearing his Spider Man t-shirt singing softly along with his friends.

Happy First Birthday, Charlie Bear*

Charlie turned 1 year old yesterday!  This picture was taken a few weeks ago as his birthday was celebrated on three separate occasions. We celebrated his birthday with cake about 3 weeks when Nana and Granddad were visiting. All of the pictures that I managed to take were ones of Charlie trying to eat the cake remains directly off the plate. His second celebration happened when Aunt Amy (Mamie) came to visit last weekend. For that celebration, Henry and Mamie made homemade sugar cookies with gobs of buttercream frosting (delicious cookies, by the way - so soft and lethal. One cookie can give you the sugar shakes. Just imagine their effect on a 3 and 1 year old!). Half of the cookies were frosted with pink icing, and the other half were frosted with green icing.  Finally, last night, on his actual birthday, we had our third and final celebration. We went to a Mexican restaurant. For dessert, we had ice cream and churros (did I mention that I am now addicted to churros? It is my Latin roots). The boys each got a balloon although only one balloon arrived home intact. We drove to the restaurant separately. I warned Mike as he was loading the children into his car, "Don't let Charlie hold his balloon on the drive home. I am worried he will somehow wrap the string around his neck or pop the balloon with his little razor sharp baby teeth and then choke on the balloon pieces. Henry can hold the balloons." Mike said, "Eh, I think it will be fine -  Its a two minute drive." I was a few cars behind them and I noticed a red balloon on the side of the road. That looks familiar, I thought... sure enough, as they were driving home, Henry convinced Mike to roll down his window and then he somehow let go of his balloon and (I believe) gave it a slight push in the direction of the open window and well, we came home with one balloon. Charlie's balloon.

The minute we arrived home, I think Mike and I were suddenly and simultaneously hit by the additive effect of raising a baby plus a toddler for a full year. We were overcome by exhaustion. Literally. It was all we could do to bathe the kids and put them to bed. In fact, the kids went to bed very early, which means that they cried out after lights out for a few minutes longer than usual but we were too tired to even feel bad about it. Actually, we laughed. We laughed when they cried out in harmony. I tried to summon the energy to finish cleaning the kitchen, to wash the bottles for the next morning, but I had to rest before I could tackle that job. We both crashed on the couch to recharge our batteries. We both fell asleep for a little bit. Then, we woke up and went to bed at 9:30 pm!  This never happens. We didn't set our alarm clocks (on a weekday, of all things!) and woke up after 7am. That is a lot of sleep, but I still feel tired today. In fact, I must look more tired and more disheveled than usual because this morning when I was dropping the kids off at daycare, someone asked me with an empathetic head tilt and tone, "Oh, is Mike out of town for work this week?" That is never a good sign.


*"Charlie Bear" is Charlie's nickname. It is our creative and unexpected twist on the classic children's toy Teddy Bear.  I mean it, look it up. This Teddy Bear is a real thing.

Top o' the morning to you

Click here to see Henry's first St. Patrick's Day.  He was 6 months younger than Charlie is now, I had forgotten how red Henry's hair was at one time.

Technically, St. Patrick's Day is tomorrow, but for the boys, it's today because of their school celebration. Their daycare doesn't miss a chance to celebrate a holiday. Also, their daycare doesn't miss a chance to have a parade.  So, here's Charlie dressed in his finest green attire. It just so happens that his finest attire is green - a green plaid shirt/cord overall combo. He is also sporting an heirloom (read: stained hand-me-down) bib and a vintage (read: clean hand-me-down) cap. I love his wisps of hair showing under the cap - his green ensemble really emphasizes the red in his hair. Our little Irish lad. I have a sneaking suspicion that he will be able to fetch a kiss or two today.

The boys have been learning about St. Patrick's Day at school, too. In addition to looking at a basket of potatoes (yes, that happened), Henry learned about leprechauns and rainbows and pots of gold. He also learned that if someone isn't wearing green on St. Patrick's Day, he is allowed to pinch them. I have a feeling I am going to regret being the one to have taught him that last tradition.  According to Charlie's class report, he and his baby friends learned about the color green and "St. Patrick, the Irish Catholic."

We moved!

After several months, we finally got the official word on the house that we put in an offer for in August (as they say, "nothing short about a short sale!"). Just before Christmas, and I mean days before Christmas, we learned that we were closing on the house on Jan 6. Since the holidays, it has been a whirlwind: house inspection, furnace breaks in existing house on coldest day of winter, Charlie gets sick, closing on new house, Mike and I pleasantly and maturely negotiate paint colors, dry wall repair/plumbing update/carpet cleaner/cable installation/alarm system installation/termite inspector, Granddad and Mike spend 7 full days painting every room in new house, Charlie gets his first tooth, pack, move, unpack, Charlie gets 4 new top teeth on the same day, clean old house, Henry gets sick, Charlie gets sick again, and take a breath, that brings us to now. Since we closed on the new house, we have made 14 trips to Lowe's, Home Depot, and Ace Hardware, considered 62 paint colors, and have visited the pediatrician 4 times. I am quite tired, and I am sick of living out of boxes, but slowly, the house is coming to together. On the morning of our last day in the old house, Mike and I reflected on leaving the rental:
M: Bye old house and so long to getting trapped in the master bath
J: So long to getting trapped in the main bath... And while I am on the subject, so long to getting trapped in the office for several hours and resorting to taking the door off its hinges and busting out the door knob to escape (true story)
To clarify, the rental had several doors but only a few of them worked properly.
M: Bye tall condo complex in our backyard that blocked out the daylight and whose tenants peered at our every move like we lived in a fishbowl.
J: Bye rickets!
M:  Bye colony of crickets living in the basement
J: Bye family of squirrels living in our attic
M: Bye dangerous storm drain in the front and back yard
J: So long to extensive, intricate 17-pt turns just to park the car in the driveway

Of course, there are also a lot (really just 3 that I think of) reasons to miss that house:
1. Henry learned to walk and to talk in that house.
2. It was Charlie's first home.
3. The oven was so small that it didn't take a long time to preheat.

 Despite donating two pickup trucks' worth of stuff, we still filled up an entire moving truck. In fact, there wasn't enough space in the truck and we had to make several additional trips by car.

Although they can easily fit into one box, these two items come with their own clothes and accessories that require storage space.

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We have space and a guest room so please come to visit!