(Before you read this, go read the previous post so you know what I’m doing if you notice me digging in your archives.)

I have 14 days to finish planning Rachel’s birthday party. It will be at park with a female clown-magician. She’s decided on a unicorn theme. I am really grateful we steered her away from Barbie. That was not going to happen. Not a big Barbie fan.

The bigger issue for me now is her scrapbook. I promised her I would finish her scrapbook by her birthday. I started it three years ago and am really ready for it to be done. I’ve got 12 days to complete the thing. The big push. After this, I’ll do Hannah’s scrapbook and then I’m done with scrapbooks. Ofoto has a great album that you can create. I’ll do that every year. And of course, there’s the blog. I can take selected posts from this and make a little book for each them to read when they are older.

When I was growing up we always had a special family breakfast on birthday mornings. The birthday girl wasn’t allowed to leave her bedroom until the table was set and all the presents wrapped. Then the birthday girl would get to use the “gold” silverware at breakfast. Very exciting. We ate on our special plates and drank from white wine goblets and opened presents from the family. Everyone made cards.

We need to get a birthday ritual going in our house soon. What were your birthday rituals?

That’s me at six. A bad hair day. I didn’t let my mom brush my hair very often.

I’ve got this idea for a new feature. Each week I will write a catalog-type description of somebody’s archives, which will briefly highlight interesting things that I find when I’m digging around.

So, if it looks like someone is spending an awful lot of time on your blog it probably is me. I’ll start with people who comment here regularly and who I haven’t yet linked to in one of my posts. Then I’ll start moving my way down the blogroll. If you aren’t on my blogroll and would like to be, or, if you are on my blogroll but don’t want me digging around in your archives, Email me.

Don’t worry, though, I will be nice. According to Michele Agnew, I am Inspiring and Kind-hearted.

Thanks, Michele. I love my flowers!

Last weekend, Hannah turned 18 months. Rachel thought we should have a party, but was satisfied with by a rite of passage we invented for the occasion. We put sprinkles (just a dash) on Hannah’s strawberries announcing that since she is one and a half, she can have sprinkles. All weekend, Rachel kept looking at Hannah babbling away at her, and she would remark “She’s really talkin’ now.” (Now that she’s one and a half and all)

So, I’ve been thinking about Hannah this week and how to describe her at one and a half. I know I’ve called her wild woman. The truth is, she is so many things. One minute she’s gently bending her head to coo and talk to a baby. The next minute she’s off running wildly. One minute she’s sitting at the table with a bowl but pointing to the empty spot in front of me and suggesting with her gestures and a sweet “Mama?” that I should have a bowl, too. The next minute both of our bowls are being tipped over or poured into each other. One minute she’s Pebbles, speaking softly to her doll and putting it to sleep, or singing sweetly. The next minute she’s Bam-Bam, lifting up the entire (toy) changing table, carrying it across the floor, and throwing it.

When she’s not Wild Woman, Pebbles or Bam-Bam, she’s Linus, dragging around her blanket with her thumb in her mouth, taking 30 second cuddles with Mama.

I love this age so much, but at the same time of all the ages I’ve experiences so far, with both children this has been the most challenging. At two, when they are talking, at least I can say things like, “I’ll talk to you when you are finished whining,” or something boring like that. I can walk away, and they’ll know why.

When we’re having our little play sessions there are moments that I feel so in control. Like last week, when I had set up the water table set up in the courtyard and was sitting at the bistro table enjoying my coffee while she happily played. I was feeling very smug. And then the moment suddenly turned and she was digging up the dirt from the plant and putting that in the water and there was mud on her clothes. I was a little irritated but went with it. And then she started eating the dirt. And then the dirt got in her eyes and I was suddenly washing her eyes out in the kitchen sink and there was mud all over me and the floor.

Sometimes we are having a wonderful game of clean-up. “Bye-bye” we say as we put all the toys away. I turn my back to move on to the next activity, but for Hannah the game is not over. She is dumping all of the toys out again.

The truth is I am so NOT in control most of the time. Often, our wills are going entirely opposite directions. And yet, we are so entirely bonded. Sometimes it feels like we are one person–one heart. And I wonder what the lesson is here. Is God just having a little fun with me? Or is it something more. If I was in control would the sweet moments be too much–too sugary and no longer sublime? Or would they be so sublime that we would never want our toddlers to grow up? Is that it? Because as much as I struggle, I am entirely charmed by my dear one-and-a half year old. But in two years I will be saying, I’m so glad that is over. And maybe that’s the way it should be.

I have mentioned in a number of my posts that Hannah loves to climb. I have also noted how she is fearless. The problem is, Hannah, at 18 months, still does not completely understand gravity. Well, to be more exact, she doesn’t understand that gravity doesn’t automatically cause her to land in my arms. What can I say? I have a tremendous fear of heights. When she’s climbing onto chairs and tables, I’m there pull her down or catch her. When she’s climbing up the stairs, I’m right behind her ready to put my hand her against back when she gets careless. I know I need to let her fall, but when?

That “when” is impending on me. This summer, for a month, I’m going to participate in a seminar during the weekdays and she’ll be watched by family and a babysitter. I am deeply afraid that she’ll be launching off some high place expecting to fall into someone’s arms and no one will be there to catch her. So, I know my job right now is to teach her about falling, and how to climb stairs by herself. I tried to teach her how to go up and down the stairs safely yesterday, and she enjoyed the lesson, but kept falling deliberately into my arms at various points as if THAT were part of the game. So….back to lesson one: falling. This afternoon, Rachel was standing on a plastic storage box (about 18 inches high) trying to reach her dresses in the closet and Hannah climbed on up there with her. It was the perfect height to fall without getting hurt, so I just watched and let her fall a few times. When we moved into another room I took two storage boxes and let her climb up on them and fall. Occasionally, she would reach out for me, to get me to catch her, or help her down, but I didn’t respond, and she either fell or got off safely. And….she loved it. It kept her busy for an hour.

Rachel at one point wanted to go and help her get up and down, but I told her that Hannah needed to learn how to balance. Then Rachel got very excited about it and starting balancing in very interesting poses all around the room. When Dad got home, Rachel told him about how Hannah was learning how to balance.

And I can’t help comparing Hannah’s balancing to my own experiment at balancing this summer. The seminar I’m participating in is a month long, with no other commitment than those weeks. The problem is, it takes place far from where we live–across the country, actually. That’s not all bad, because it is right near my family. I am taking the girls with me and my husband will join us for some of the stay. My mother-in-law will also come out to help for a week. We will stay two houses away from my sister and her four kids, who my kids adore. In many ways, it works out perfectly. I will be getting paid to participate in the seminar. The seminar schedule is not grueling, with many short/half days. It’s a rare opportunity to be with my family and wear my historian hat again. And yet, I still worry about leaving my kids every weekday. On an anxious day, I worry about that. On a better day, I think about talking to other historians again; drinking coffee and having lunch with no children at my side; and having uninterupted discussions. And I wonder about this balance thing….and exactly where I will find mine. I am excited and terrified at the same time…and that is not a bad thing. Wish me luck! I will need it.

(story abridged due to the fact that the author has PMS)

LAST NIGHT
9:30: PMSy but not yet bitchy. Happy with new template. Write post. Take nice bath. Go downstairs to clean up a little and take garbage out. Look forward to getting upstairs by 10:00 to read a book for a half hour. Look forward to getting to bed on time for the third night in a row. But wait. Let me get my keys and purse set out for the morning. Can’t find my keys. Start looking. (When I have PMS I tend to lose things.)

10:00-11:30: Looking for keys. Look everywhere. In toy boxes. Under coach. In the garbage that I just took out. Extremely unpleasant garbage search. We have a child in diapers. Am bitchy now. Close to weepy. Go to bed later than ever without finding my keys. Anxious. Tired. Have to pee about 5 times before I fall asleep because PMS puts pressure on my bladder. Wake up several times with anxious thoughts about anything that crosses my mind.

THIS MORNING
6:30: I’m up and looking for my keys but I’ve kind of given up. Husband is angel and doesn’t lecture. That’s good for him because I’ve got PMS. And I’m sleep-deprived.

7:10: Husband finds keys lying on couch. The same couch that I’ve already pulled out from the wall several time to look underneath. The same coach with the seat cushions that my fingers searched between many times. Those fingers found crumbs, but no keys. I’m grateful, but too tired to be really happy.

10:00: After exercise, mood improves. Husband calls to see how I’m doing. Mood improves further.

TONIGHT
Bitchy no more, but don’t you dare lecture me about my keys.

Honestly, though, PMS was never a problem for me before kids. What the hell is going on here?

I have a new look and I am so happy with it I can’t stop staring at it. There’s a tub full of water waiting for me, but I am so busy admiring my new home I can’t seem to make my way over there.

Thank you Tamara, at Cybervassals! You are wonderful. You got it exactly right.

If anyone is considering a template makeover, consider her. She is highly versatile. That’s why I picked her. She is also very fun to work with.

I also owe a huge thank you to MommaK, for suggesting that I go with a museum theme. Thank you!

Also thanks to all of you who offered words of advice when I asked for some. I lierally took your adjectives and forwarded them onto Tamara. She took them and ran.

Hmmm….I feel like I should be thanking the Academy somewhere, too.

Anyway, I am giddy wih delight. I hope you like it, too. Let me know if there are any kinks I have to work out.

Now…my bath.

Rachel has developed an interest in wiping Hannah’s nose for us. Yesterday, she announced: “That can be my chore.” So two minutes ago I watched Rachel turn Hannah around, put one arm around her, and wipe her nose with a tissue.

Ahhh. Will somebody peel me some grapes now, too.

I have a vague feeling that this morning as I lay in bed half asleep a certain three year old turned on the television in our room and watched Bear in the Big Blue House. I have a vague feeling that I remembered that it is TV Turnoff week. And I have a vague feeling that I decided to go back to sleep. I needed my sleep if I was going to direct a week of no TV. And I believe one has to be awake to know that a TV is being turned on. No?

We redeemed ourselves, though. No television was turned on once mom and dad gained consciousness.

What have we done today in our free time? During Hannah’s nap we played games.

Not a big fan of Chutes and Ladders. The board is very confusing to a three year old. If you can’t read double-digit numbers it’s hard to know which direction to go. I have to admit I did get a bit of a thrill sliding down the chutes. Wheeeeeeee.

Cootie. Well, let’s just say Mom and Dad got a little punchy during our third round of the game. “Here, you can take over for me, I’ll do that.” Giggle. Giggle. By the way, Daddy is not supposed to take the “pretty eyes,” because he’s a boy. But you knew that, didn’t you.

On a normal day, we play games after dinner. Tonight I think I’ll suggest something else. Maybe Mom will drag out the guitar–subject everyone to some real fun. They can just tell inside jokes about me and giggle their hearts away. I really won’t care. If they laugh too hard, we’ll drop “Wheels on the Bus” and move to something really fun. “Motorcyle Mama…”

Today we received a hand-out from Rachel’s school informing us that next week is TV Turnoff Week. Interesting timing. Although Rachel doesn’t watch much television, I do let her watch when I’m cooking dinner (okay, I admit it, that’s not the only time she watches). This week, however, it has become harder and harder for her to transition from the TV to the dinner table. Last night I warned her a number of times that if she didn’t pull herself together she would watch no television today. She didn’t do it. So, today was a day of no television.

TV Turnoff week seemed to me to be a good opportunity to break her from her early evening habit. So I started the hard sell. “Rachel, look a this!” I said. “Your school says next week is TV Turnoff week!” “What’s that?” she asked. “Well, you don’t watch any TV and instead you take walks after dinner, you work on puzzles together, play games, play stories.” She seemed somewhat interested, “But, why can’t we watch TV?” “Because if we watch TV we don’t have time to do fun things like play games.” I wasn’t sure if my sales pitch was going to go over because we do play games even on days that she watches TV. I was staring at a page of the handout that said, “New Stanford Research Shows Less TV=Less Agression.” I needed a new line of argument so I used it: “People that watch too much television sometimes become mean.”

Innocently, she asked, “Like you?” (!!!!)

“Like me? I’m mean?” She looked embarrassed and then said no. I regained my composure and calmly asked, “When was I mean to you? You can tell me.” I assumed she was going to mention me hissing and snapping at her to get back into bed the night before (after she had come in our room for the 5th time).

Instead she said, “When you say I can’t watch TV.”

You think she got me, don’t you? Nooooooooooo. Well, short-term, yes. But, that isn’t the end of the story. The first thing she told her Dad when he got home from work was that next week was TV turnoff week and we were going to be taking walks, playing games…

Did I tell you that in my latest job performance review it was determined that I am great at marketing things to three year olds?

I think I’ll dust off that crock-pot for next week. And since I’m still the boss, I’m making an exception for Desperate Housewives, Idol, and The Apprentice.

It’s not completely new for Hannah to be sticking her tongue out of mouth. For a few weeks now, she’s been sticking it out of her mouth as she giggles a wicked deep cackle. Today, though, has been a weird day for the tongue. First of all, she’s been pointing it–like Kiss. In addition to pointing the tongue, she’s been licking my shirt–just for fun. Then tonight she started imitating Charlie (our dog), panting with her tongue out of her mouth, and then she actually licked Charlie’s fur. Charlie is in the process of blowing her coat, so Hannah suddenly had a mouthful of fur. Hannah frequently puts strange things in her mouth. Hannah also can’t stand any strange textures in her mouth. When she has a strange texture in her mouth, she sticks her fingers in there and literally gags herself trying to get it off her tongue. She’s thrown up quite a number of times doing this. So tonight she had this dog hair in her mouth and she was gagging herself trying to get it off her tongue. Finally she just grabbed the bottom of my shirt and licked it to get the hair off, as if licking my shirt was no big deal.

The pointy tongue? I can take it or leave it. The shirt licking thing has got to go.

The gagging thing? Do I have a choice? Let’s just say it’s part of the wild woman mystique.

Darn. I missed it. Yesterday was Thank You Fairy Blog Mother Day. Thank you MommaK for kindly reminding us.

To those who aren’t familiar with this holiday, it is the day you thank the lovely folks who inspired you to blog, or helped you find comfort and guidance in the process. At least that’s the way I understand it.

Though she is more of an inspiration than a Fairy Blog Mother, the first person I have to mention is Catherine Newman, who writes an internet column for ParentCenter called Bringing Up Ben and Birdy. She also has a new book out, Waiting for Birdy. It is getting fantastic reviews. I’m almost certain she has never read my blog. She has 250,000 readers. I started reading her column when I was 8 months pregnant with Hannah. I found myself laughing out loud at a time when nothing else was very funny to me. (Let’s just say I’m not exactly pleasant to be around when I’m 8 months pregnant.) She is an amazing writer. Her journal made me believe that it is possible to write about the incredible high’s and low’s of parenting without having it be cliche. I started to pay more attention to the details of my daily life as a mother, started listening and remembering the words Rachel was using, and suddenly I was writing in my head. I started journaling.

Many, many months later, I read an article in the New York Times about moms that blog. I also learned I could start a blog without knowing anything about HTML. I opened one, copied my journal entries in it (for my family), and started writing new posts. No one but my family was reading it, but I was writing daily, so I kept up.

The blogworld, however, seemed a little cold and lonely to me. I didn’t know any bloggers and what I was reading seemed very snarky. I enjoy reading snarky in small doses, but it’s just not me. So I was feeling very alienated.

Then I found Michele Agnew’s site. I have already written about Michele here. I will just say now that I don’t know that I would still be blogging without her. Single-handedly she has created a vibrant, friendly community of very different people, all creative. Everyone is invited to be a part of it. All you have to do is follow the ground rules when you are on her site: be respectful of each other. So thank you, Michele. You are a fairy god mother to us all. I consider you a friend. If you have not met Michele, go over and meet her. You will feel welcome.

I don’t know whether to call this next group Fairy Blog Mothers or Fairy Blog Friends. They all came through my site when I was Michele’s site of the day. Actually, I think Paul Sveda came a little earlier. He saw a this post expressing my frustration with not knowing HTML. He was sick at the time. He offered to help and pointed me in the right direction. Then three blogging moms came through, put their arms around me and said “let’s be friends.” I can always count on them to help out when I need advice, or to just leave a comment even when I’ve just written the most boriing post ever. They are: MommaK, J & J’s Mom, and Average Mom.

Now, a month or more later, there are many more of you I can count on to come and read and say hello. I want so much to name all of you. I know exactly who you are. I am afraid that if I try I will leave someone out. So, when I get new template up I will start a regular feature that will allow me to thank each of you individually.

I will thank you all because I put my heart here on my blog. I put it here because even my closest friends don’t want to hear all of this stuff (Who has time?). And though I am often too intense, or sentimental, or boring, or cheesy, or goofy, you come back again and again and you muster up comments to let me know that you like me anyway. Thank you all, old friends and new!

if you are a lurker, please take this opportunity to introduce yourself. You may then feel free to go back to lurking and I will know to feel grateful to you, too.

Do not fall asleep while reading this. Just sneak away quietly when you feel a yawn coming on.

1. I’m getting a template makeover and saw a sample today. Very exciting!

2. Vonzelle is my favorite American Idol contestant–followed by Bo and Constantine. I would like to see the three of them as the final three, but that won’t happen. Carrie will be there, and I have a sneaking feeling that Anthony will end up knocking one of them out because he’s got the teeny-bopper fan base. If it were up to me, he’d be out next. He did sing well tonight, though. Heck, they all did.

3. There is nothing that hits the spot more than a freshly made peanut-butter and jelly sandwich and nothing more revolting than one that has been sitting in a lunch box for a few hours.

4. When I post a new post, the “new” marker on blogroll lists does not show up next to my blog name. When it’s been about 10 hours since I’ve last posted, it suddenly appears and remains there for several hours. Would that be blogroll problem or a blogger problem and should I really care?

5. School parking lots seem incredibly dangerous to me, but I’ve never heard of anyone being killed in one. If you have, I really don’t want to know about it. I worry enough as it is that a three foot preschooler is going to run behind me just as I’m pulling out.

6. I have allergies right now. The over the counter Clariten isn’t quite doing the trick. I get allergies from two things: stress in times of transition, or dust and mold. I am usually allergic to other people’s houses, not my own (when I have to sleep in them, I mean). Whether this is due to dust, mold, or transition is a mystery. Is my current itchy nose a symptom of transition or a musty house? Or…am I suddenly developing outdoor allergies? Do you know?

7. Thanks to a comment left by Paul Sveda on my blog (who is a truly amazing photographer, go visit him and wish him a belated happy birthday) someone found my site by googling “nudophobia.” Now I have to google nudophobia and find out what it is. When I do, should I just click on the link to my site to find out?

8. I think I just linked to Paul without cutting and pasting from blogger help. That is a breakthrough! I won’t know that until I do a preview. Hold on. Yes I did! I do have room in my brain for HTML code!

9. Following MommaK’s lead I was going to do a post tonight thanking my Fairy Blog Mothers, but am posting these random thoughts instead. It is easier to do while watching American Idol. (Woo-hoo, I did that link without blogger help, too). I will have to do a belated thank you tomorrow.

I have other random thoughts but you have all stopped reading this post already so I won’t continue.

I’m back. One more random thought. You have to watch The Office. It’s hilarious. Bye now. I’m going to wath it. No, I’m actually going to watch it. And you’re not reading this anymore anyway.

Nudophobia=fear of nudity (duh) I’m a little slow.

.

I told Rachel this morning that I was dropping Hannah off at the daycare for a few hours and she almost started crying. She has this fear that If I leave Hannah there, we will never get her back. She thought I should stay there with her. Eventually, Rachel acccepted that I was going to leave Hannah there and then she started worrying that I was going to be lonely here alone in the house. After thinking about it for a while, she said, “Well, Charlie (our dog) will be here to keep you in compy (company).” I laughed to myself imagining myself off with Charlie hiking in the hills.

And here I sit, alone in the house, debating whether I should call the day-care provider because as I was closing the door I heard Hannah crying behind me. Is she still crying? Should I call? Should I wait by the phone? What a complete dork I am.

So this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to call and the day-care lady is going to tell me that Hannah is playing happily. Then I’m going to get on the treadmill and shower. Then I’m going to make a dozen important phone calls.

And you’re not going to call me pitiful. Right?

Update: I called. She’s playing happily. Off to the treadmill.

If my Dad were alive, it would be the 40th anniversary of his marriage to my mom today. When they married she was twenty-three, he was thirty-five. They met each other when my mom was an upperclassmen at a Catholic liberal arts women’s college in Minnesota. He had graduated from the partner men’s college years before. The occasion of their first meeting was a talk given by my father at my mother’s college. She was in charge of the committee that had invited him to speak. At that time, he was director of pre-Peace Corps, international development organization, very much like the Peace Corps. My mother was interested in serving overseas after graduating. When they met, a friendship started….and probably a few sparks, but my father had made a commitment not to get married and instead dedicate his life to his cause (he had also trained to be a priest, but decided not to take vows). He made it charmingly clear to my mom that he had decided not to get married.

After finishing college, my mother spent three years teaching in Africa through a Catholic service organization. She and my father exchanged letters during this time. Near the end of her three years, my mother let it be known that she had received three marriage proposals. She was interested in knowing his intentions. When she returned to the states, my father picked her up in New York and drove with her back to Minnesota. Charmingly again, my uncle was with them. A week or so later, on a snowy day, my father picked my mom up at my grandparents house. They took a walk in a snowy canyon. She was wearing a red turtleneck sweater. He proposed. They sat on a log. This was the story we heard over and over again as children.

My grandmother had about a month to prepare for the wedding. They were married in the local Catholic church and had their reception in the firehouse. My grandmother made the wedding and bridesmaid dresses. My mom’s dress was very nice, made in a Jackie Onnaisis style. I should know, because I wore it at my own wedding. I used to also wear the red turtleneck (engagement) a lot when I was a teenager.

Despite his awkward start, my father was a loving and devoted husband. They had a fulfilling, rich and happy life together. They were intellectual and spiritual soulmates. They felt a calling from God to service and they dedicated their lives to it. I have never felt that kind of a calling, so it is very much of a fascination to me.

It’s been almost ten years since my father died. I called my mom this morning to wish her a happy anniversary.

We stayed up late last night watching a movie on Oprah’s Oxygen channel. Halle Berry was in it and I don’t even know the name of it–something about a wedding. It was four hours long unbeknowst to us and it hooked us. It ended at midnight. Very good movie. Is Halle the most beautiful woman ever, or what?

Anyway, I’m tired. And grumpy. You try having a discussion about what swing set to get on six hours of sleep. Any advice on good wooden swing-sets for small yards?

I’m sure I’ll be fine after another cup of coffee. It’s a good day for a trip to the Farmer’s Market

Happy Sunday everyone!

Grandma Rose Outfit
Originally uploaded by raehan.

My Grandma Rose has made each of her great-grandchildren a quilt. Our girls love theirs. In fact, if we lost either of them, I don’t know how we would recover.

She also gave one to each of her grandchildren. In addition, every Christmas we would get a new hat-gloves-scarf set knitted by her.

I like to joke with my sisters about how as the youngest I always got the leftover colors, usually blue or green. The thing we really laugh over is this set of Mexican dolls given to us by a family friend. My sisters’ dolls are girls, dressed in traditional Mexican festival dresses, jewelry and all. Mine is boy doll dressed in shorts. We never talked about the discrepancy at the time, which makes it all the funnier when we talk about it now.

My mom still has them. The thing is, the boy doll is adorable to me now. And you know what? Look at this picture. I sure seem happy with the color I got that year. I think I was five.

Thank you, Grandma!

Louise Feeding Her Child, Mary Cassett, 1899, Portland Art Museum

I have become a huge fan of Mary Cassett, the only American painter to exhibit with the original impressionists.

According to the Art Institute of Chicago, Casset’s frequent theme of mothers caring for their own children was a sign of the times.

“The many paintings, pastels, and prints in which Cassatt depicted children being bathed, dressed, read to, held, or nursed reflect the most advanced 19th-century ideas about raising children. After 1870, French scientists and physicians encouraged mothers (instead of wet-nurses and nannies) to care for their children and suggested modern approaches to health and personal hygiene, including regular bathing. In the face of several cholera epidemics in the mid-1880s, bathing was encouraged not only as a remedy for body odors but as a preventative measure against disease.”

The Child’s Bath, Mary Cassett, 1893, Art Institte of Chicago

It has been brought to my attention that my sidebar is acting funny. It looks normal on my browser. What does it look like on yours? Is it down a bit? If so, would you please tell me what your browser is? Thank you.

By the way, I am not sick. I know my emotion thingy has been saying that for about three days now. I’m not very good at changing that. When I first got it I always had it on sleepy because I write all my posts at night when I’m, well you know, sleepy. And then one night I felt like I was getting sick. And then forgot to change it.

I’m not a good recharger either. Don’t try calling me on my cell-phone.

Pajamas were on, teeth were brushed, and yet it wasn’t quite bedtime. So, I leaned up against Rachel’s bed and took a breather while the girls played. While Hannah was handing me books, Rachel was petting a toy stuffed cat (who strangely enough had one of Rachel’s sweaters on). While she was petting it she was giving me a pretend lesson in how to stroke a cat. Then she announced, “She’s fourteen-seven.” “Who’s fourteen seven?” I dared to ask. “My sweetheart.” she answered. “What’s fourteen-seven?” I asked. “A number.” Glad we got that cleared up.

Anyway, the play progressed. Hannah kept escaping and running towards our room–heading for her usual destination, the closet. During one of my attempts to reel her back I saw a tape measure on the floor. I had been measuring Rachel because my husband’s cousin is going to make her a dress (yay!). I picked up the tape measure and started rolling it up tightly. I was about halfway through when Hannah grabbed the other end and started heading for the closet. This actually happened a more than once and finally I surrendered. It became a game. Hannah was leading us while Rachel and I held on to the end. I told Rachel that we were holding on to the tape measure because we were trying to find our way through a blizzard. I think I was thinking of that scene in the Little House Books where Pa had to walk to the barn hanging on to a rope because he couldn’t see through the storm. My mind then turned to memories of playing blizzard when I was a kid. We’d play in the snow, wandering around with a sled in a group. Someone always pretended to have a broken leg during this game and we were always searching for food.

This made me think of a fantstic book my sister, wonderful book giver that she is, gave to Rachel.

Roxaboxen, by Alice McLerren.

Even if you don’t have children, you will enjoy it. It’s based on a true story about a place in a desert where a group of children came back to play year after year and let their imaginaions run wild.

What are your best memories from your years of child play?

Okay, J & J’s Mom, I have answered your wonderfully thoughtful interview questions. They were so thoughtful, if fact, that I had to think about them for quite a long time. So imagine me thinking today while I was entertaining 3 pre-schoolers (who am I kidding? They were entertaining themselves.) and a toddler. While they dressed up as ballerinas, beaded necklaces, made princess crowns, played “mommy” and doctor and “mommy” doctor, I was thinking about time travel, “what if’s” and sneak peaks.

This whole process has made me remember something about you J & J’s Mom. The questions were so good that I thought to myself, she would make a good teacher. And then I remembered that you mentioned you had been a teacher. So now I know that in addition to being funny, generous, strong, and brave, you are also a great teacher.

Thanks for the questions. Here goes.

1. You are a history buff are you not? If you could slip in and out of the past…where would you go and why?

I wouldn’t call myself a history buff. To me a history buff is someone who has an astonishing ability to rattle off dates and battles and that is definitely not my strength. Although I certainly have mastered the important dates and invents in my field, what I am particularly good at is asking questions, making connections, and interpreting. In other words, I think of myself more as a detective than a Jeopardy champ.

Okay, now to the fun part. Where would I go? If I were to live for a while in an era, I would choose periods that were exciting for women. It would be fun, I think, to go back and be part of the middle-class communities in nineteenth-century America t fighting for various reforms: abolition, moral reform (i.e temperence), women’s rights, labor reform, urban reforms, etc. I would love to be able to go and be a part of the 1848 Woman’s Rights Convention at Seneca Falls, New York. Incidentally, I did NOT specialize in women’s history, I simply would like to meet these very interesting women and feel their passion and excitement–and their disappointments and frustrations, too. Also, I am very interested in women’s networking.

If I was an anonymous time traveler who was more of an observer than a participant in history, I think I’d like to go to all my favorite cities and see them at different points in history: St. Andrews, Scotland when it was a medieval port and pilgramage hotspot; New York at all periods in history, particularly when Central Park was wilderness; London (where do I start? Okay, let’s take it from the English Civil War and keep going.), Kyoto, Paris, Berlin….visit all of my old haunts but in a different era. Cool, huh?

2. You have the opportunity to sneak a peek into a “famous” person’s diary but you are only allowed to read one entry. Who’s would it be and what would it say?

I’m drawing a blank, except to say I would like to read Pope John Paul II’s diary and read an entry revealing what he thought of George W. Bush. What would it say? I certainly wouldn’t presume to know for sure….but if rumors are right there might be a good deal of criticism of Bush’s foreign policy. (Is this going to get me into big trouble? I’m just answering a question honestly here.)

3. You have essentially married your first love. Have there been others? If not, do you ever think about “what if”? Name 3 reasons why your hubs is “the best Daddy ever”.

There have not been any other loves. I had many intense crushes before him, as well as several very brief relationships (hell I was 18 when I met him), but no real give and take love relationships. No, I don’t think “what if?” First of all, I’m not a “what if” kind of a person, never have been. Second of all, when we started our relationship we were long-distance for several years (with intense intervals together), so I think we had plenty of time to experience, or at least contemplate the ‘what if?’. And it was quite the opposite of what I wanted. So….if I think “what if” about anything it more in the sense of: “Every obstacle was in our way, and somehow we knew to hold out and hang in there and go for it. And I’m glad that part is over, and what if we hadn’t been that wise?” And at that thought, my mind draws a blank. Because I love my life, as challenging as it has been at times, and it is I life I have forged together with my husband–my best friend, soulmate and prince. We can sometimes both be as stubborn as mules, but we are quite a match, in my opinion.

“Best Daddy Ever” Question
First of all, that title was given to him by Rachel. I think he is the “Best Daddy Ever” for our family, though I am sure there are many daddies in other families that our worthy of having the same title bestowed on them by their own children. To help answer your question, I interviewed Rachel twice about it. To her it seems to be a very simple matter. The first time I asked she said, “Because he married you, and because he is very nice.” The second time she was in her Daddy’s arm and she answered, “because he cuddles me.” If you were to interview me (which in fact you are doing) and ask why he is the Best Daddy Ever for my children, it is because he reads them books every night, and he plays board games with them, and he tickles them, and he gives them baths, and he loves them immensely. This is not a particularly important factor, but he’s quite pleasant to look at, too.

4. You have traveled all over the world. Money is no object. Where would you build a house/live and why?

If I didn’t have to think about having an income, I would live…….see that’s a hard one for me. I love where i am living now (but I can’t tell you where that is–let’s just say Pacific TimeZone, U.S., cause you know that already). I would like to have more land and at the same time be near to a great city. My answer is, I don’t know for sure. If money was no option, I think I would own several places: one where we are now with more land, another in a city–like London or New York, and a third one in Scotland somewhere–rustic and near the water. If we wanted to spend time in other places we would rent. You know, come to think of it, if money was truly no object, I think we’d just rent everywhere. Owning three places would be a big burden.

5. You are stranded on a desert island for and indefinite amount of time…what 3 things would you hope to have with you and why?

1. My husband; 2. My daughter; 3) my other daughter. If they don’t qualifiy as things, I would hope to have something with which to clean water, something with which to light fires, and something with which to provide shelter. And I am too ignorant to know what these three things would be.

CAN I INTERVIEW YOU?

The way I understand this game/meme is that I am supposed to interview anyone who would like to be interviewed next. If you would like me to interview you, leave a comment here saying so. When I have your questions ready I will notify you and you then come back here to get the questions. Okay? If you want to be interviewed by me and think I don’t know you well enough, tell me anyway. First, I may know you better than you think. Second, if I don’t know you I will go visit you at your site and meet you.

It’s spring break this week and we have most of our mornings booked with playdates, but not this morning. So, at about 8:30, when it felt like we had already been up for hours, I remembered that there is a farm about 30 minutes north that has drop-in visiting in the mornings. So….we were off–and it turns out the only visitors of the morning.

We pet baby goats, baby chicks, and rabbits. Spotted a lone goose, just sitting. Brushed and rode ponies (well, I didn’t ride of course). Peeked into a nest that contained a dove sitting on eggs that would never hatch because her partner might not be a male after all.

It was a perfect spring day. Sunny, but not too hot. Green, but not too wet.

Next time, do you want to come with us?

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve got the bug now to get a new template. Yours are all so purty. I might just ask for one for my birthday. Maybe you could give me some advice.

The problem is I am no good with ideas for designs. When I was a kid I used to stare at a blank piece of drawing paper and never quite know what to do with it. I feel just as inadequte now.

There are different approaches I could take: A cartoon representing me in some way, but what would it look like? Or I could take the photo image approach–you know a beautiful flower template, city views, etc.; or, I could pick a new persona, but Hoss has cowboy all tied up, and to be honest, I’m a little too dorky to pull anything like that off.

So…….Here are some questions for you. You can answer any or all. Take your pick. Just help me out in whatever way you can?

1. Use your imagination and describe an appropriate template for moi. Or at the very least, point me in a good direction. If I use any of your ideas I promise I will honor you somewhere in my sidebar when it’s all done.

2. Advise me on web design companies. Anything you want to share: experiences, pricing, etc. If you want you can Email me! this information.

Thank you so much. You may go now.

P.S. When I started out on this blog two months ago, I was so green to it all that I honestly thought all of you had made your designs all by yourself with no professional help, and I felt so inadequate. It still takes me forever to even link to anybody in a post. So be impressed when I do. Or at least imagine me going to blogger help and cutting and pasting html code. Is there a better way? Yes, I know, implant it into my brain. That’s a thought.

I did something very wonderful today. I treated myself to a facial. I’ve been slowly losing some weight. When I started doing so, I intitially set all sorts of rewards for myself to take as I reach various weight-loss goals and I haven’t rewarded myself to anything. So…when I was talking to a friend of mine that does facials I set an appointment…and ooooh she is so good. My skin is glowing.

The only other time I had a facial was when I was like 7 months pregnant with Hannah. Not a good time for a facial. The facialist (is that the term?), who by the way was not my friend–someone different, wanted me to lie on my back, and you are not supposed to do that when you are pregnant, so I kept edging over to my side and she kept trying to reposition me. She obviously had never been pregnant. This time around it was so much better.

There is something else I’m excited about. I finally arranged to have someone watch Hannah for me for a few hours two mornings a week. There is this woman who used to be a teacher at Rachel’s old day-care (when I worked part-time). She now has a day-care out of her home. She’s very sweet and a certified Montessori teacher. Anyway, she takes drop-ins, which is amazing around here, and doesn’t charge very much. I got glowing recommendations from her by mothers who are using her, so I thought I’d give it a try. I took Hannah there last week and had a chat with this woman. Hannah loved visiting and cried when it was time for us to leave, which was reassuring. The two other toddlers who were dropped off when Hannah and I were there, were very happy to be dropped off. So, we’re going to start slowly next week, just an hour the first time and then take it from there.

I just need a little space and time to do the simple things (phone calls, etc), so that when I’m with Hannah I can focus more on her and not be running in place trying to do these things but getting nothing done. This will also give me some alone time with Rachel this summer when she doesn’t have pre-school. I have no family living near me to help out.

These are the top five things I am planning to do with my free hours:

1. Go to a library and just sit. Read a magazine. Browse. Enjoy going to the non-children sections of the library. Enjoy not having to stop a child from pulling books off shelves.
2. Garden. Go to gardening stores and shop for flowers to plant. Enjoy not having to rush through this.
3. Finish staining our wooden fence. I started this last summer and didn’t quite finish.
4. Make important phone calls without having to wait until naptime or sneak into a private room hoping no one has a crisis in the middle of your importan call.
5. Head for the hills and hike….with just my dog. No child in a backpack. No stroller.
6. Coffee. Sit in a coffeeshop and drink coffee slowly. Or tea.

7. Finish free-time activities and rush eagerly to pick up gorgeous children.

Excuse me if I sound like I’m gloating here. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve done these very simple things. It’s really only a few hours, so this is probably ambitious, and perhaps Hannah will have a hard transition to the babysitter, but I don’t want to worry about that right now.

The really big news here is that I’m letting go….just a teensy bit. Wish me luck!

What do you do when you have a few hours of personal space? Give me some ideas, if you’d be so kind.

Mama taught me a new game. It’s called potty. Actually, i call if “ba,” just like cup (”ba”) and bath (”ba”).

Anyhoot,I was scared at first. I walked up to the potty and started lifting my shirt as if I needed to change my diaper and she took the diaper off and tried to sit me on the potty. I started to scream, but then I realized this potty is really just like a chair. And chairs are just about my most favorite things in the world. Along with shoes, strollers and babies. So, now i know it really is a fun game after all.

This is how you play:

Go to the potty and say “ba.” Then after mamma puts you on the potty, sit there looking really smug. After about three minutes of this mom will try to take you off. Protest loudly. Settle down again and smile, looking really tickled and smug. Then start grabbing the toilet paper and shoving it into the potty. There’s usually a space between your thighs that will allow you to do this. After you have half the roll shoved into the toilet, mama will get frustrated and put her hand over the toilet paper roll. Start picking little pieces of paper off the roll in the spaces between her fingers. Push those into the potty. When mamma starts saying no again, start trying to feed her the little pieces of toilet paper.

After a while you will be ready for something new. Slide off the potty. Walk over to step stool on the sink and wash hands. Mama and I disagree about how this part should go. She thinks my pants should be pulled up. I think they should stay pulled down to my ankles.

After this mom will probably have had it and pick you up and lie you down to put your diaper back on. Tolerate it. Let her take a breath.

When she’s done, walk back over to the potty and repeat game. The game should last about 45 minutes or until Mama has had it for good.

Editorial Note: Hannah does not seem to understand that this game should involve putting anything but toilet paper into the potty.

QUOTE OF THE DAY: “Last one to the rockin’ egg!” Rachel, running up and down the hallway with Hannah.

Today I remembered something that I haven’t thought about in a long time. When I was a junior in college I took a semester leave and went to live in Japan for five months. I was a guest student at a girls college in Kyoto. It was a great experience for me, but that�s not what this particular memory is about. When I returned home from Japan I stayed with my parents until school started up again. They lived in Manhattan, upper west side, right above Columbia University. To make a long story short, I came down with a horrible flu/cold and at the start of this flu my parents were out of town for a day. I received a notice in the mail that a paycheck from Japan was at the post office (I had done a bit of tutoring while I was there). Eager to get this check, I went out in the cold, windy winter air. It was February. The post office was in Harlem. Columbia is right on the edge of Harlem. It was a longer walk to the post office then I had anticipated and when I got there I had to wait on line. The closer on line I got to the clerk, the stranger I felt. I was dizzy and having a hard time standing up. When I got to the window, I leaned against the counter said something like �I need help� or �I feel like I�m gong to faint� and then everything turned yellow. I woke up on the floor with lots of people surrounding me and people helping me as we waited for the police to come. At some point during this period, a homeless man handed me a yellow post-it note. I looked at it later. He had drawn a little portrait of me to make me feel better, a stick figure with a smiling face on it. Above it, were the words, �Angel Face.�

I love New York and this is probably one of my favorite memories.

I think I may still have the post-it note and I�d love to find and scan it onto this post, but I just cleaned my office and I want to enjoy it this way for at least 36 hours or so. While I’m enjoying my office, Hannah will be guest posting. She has something she’d like to tell you. Stay tuned.

It turns out my fearless one-year old might have a fear after all. Does anybody know the word for intense fear of a shirt being pulled over one’s head? Go ahead, make one up.

Symptom of phobia: deep grating scream when shirt approaches, indicating that subject is truly frightened.

The other factor is she’s got quite a tummy on her and is proud of it. Who wants a shirt on with a tummy like hers, right?

Everyone’s playing it, you know. So I will, too. It all started with aka_Monty, who made the game up.
Here are the directions:
1. Choose a search engine, click on “Images”
2. Choose a 5 random blogfriends
3. Think of a word that you think best describes
your blogfriend.
4. Do an IMAGE SEARCH on that word.
5. Pick the image that best fits your pal & post

The thing is, I’m a Gemini, and can’t make up my mind. I used two adjectives instead of one. What’s a Gemini to do?

Since all of these bloggers are funny, I took that adjective out of the running.

J & J’s Mom GENEROUS AND STRONG

Old Horsetail Snake NAUGHTY
Note: This is about the only presentable image of naughty I could find.

MommaK LOYAL AND INVITING

Honestyrain SMOOTH AND QUIRKY

Michele INVITING AND GRACIOUS

And then I owe one to aka_Monty, the creator of this game, right? IMPULSIVE AND TRUE

Whew. I did it. If you were not on this list and want me to image you, too, please let me know. And Monty, that was way too much work!

Here are the images others found for me:

MommaK

J & J’s Mom

P.S. I honestly don’t think anybody read my boring “My Office” post except Elle who was sweet enough to muster up a comment. If you do care about the pile on my desk, however, I would like to report that it is much smaller today. The tax documents are now off my desk and onto someone else’s desk and I am much closer to making a decision about this summer than I was yesterday. My stress levels are down.

I am working on aka-monty’s image game but am slow, so slow. If all goes well, I’ll have something posted by tomorrow. I have some good ones, though. It’s just adding all those links that slows me down.

In the meantime a little story for you:

A few weeks ago Rachel was going through a thing where she’d ask at random times throughout the day, “Why do you love me?” Initially my answer was “Because you are wonderful and you are my daughter.” Sometimes I added, “because you are funny,” which annoyed her because she does not want to be funny, so I dropped that part.

One day I tried to mix it up a bit, so I elaborated, “Because you are wonderful, and you are thoughtful, and you are a good big sister….(blah, blah).” I finished and she was silent for a few seconds and then said blankly, “What?”

The next time we tried this conversation she decided to lead me through it. “Why do you love me?” “Because you are wonderful…” “Do you love me because I have curly hair?” Oh..so that’s how this conversations is supposed to go.

The strange thing about the curly hair answer is, though she has great spiraling curly blond hair, she doesn’t like it. She’s a confident kid, I swear. She just wants to be someone else: Rebecca with straight hair. A piece of advice, don’t tell your child what the second choice name was for her/him (ours was Rebecca).

I have spent the evening organizing my office. I have a decision to make about whether to commit to something this summer (whether to wear my historian hat or not) and I figured that if I organize my office, maybe I will find some clarity. Clarity where are you? I was starting to find some early this evening when my desk was clear and I had just finished a helpful conversation with my husband. Now its late and after two hours of filing and sorting papers my desk is full again with a pile of things to do (though small and neat, it is still a pile of things I’d rather not worry about). Last night I hung a large memo board that hadn’t been hung since before our move to this house (almost exactly a year ago) and now that board is also full of to-do lists–some urgent, some not.

And this office, it represents both sanity and chaos to me. My past and my present are all intermingled here. Hidden away in my Ikea office furniture are letters written from many countries: Jerusalem, Japan, Scotland. There are also notebooks full of research that represents years of my life and my energy. There are layers of photos–photos of my children, of my husband and I when we were children. And there is my work table where I have my scrapbook things set up. I promised Rachel I would have her scrapbook finished by her birthday in May, so there’s a lot of work ahead this month. And then there is my desk–full of bills, pre-school memos, bills, tax documents, birthday party information, registration information for a class that I’m planning to take next fall. This is me, this room. This is what my brain feels like. It’s all competing for attention–my past, my present, my future, my deadlines. And still, I love this room. Because it is mine. It contains my heart, and my sweat, and my hopes.

As much as I love this chaotic office, one of the things I love about blogging is that my blog is like this great office that never gets cluttered and messy, and I do find clarity here. And I laugh, and I remember, and I find order and definition in this life of mine. Even though it all might look like a mess to you.

You know those hormones that come and inhabit your body when you are pregnant and nursing. Well, I’ve got this feeling that there are quite a number of such visitors that came and then decided never to leave. Before pregnancy, you see, PMS was never a big deal for me–maybe a few unexplained weepy days. Now, after two kids, it sometimes feels like my whole body is going to explode. (This is why I now exercise regularly–so I don’t explode–theoretically at least) In addition to the wicked PMS, is this strange sentimentalism that creeps up on me. I get weepy about the most unexpected things. Like last week when I heard that Johnny Cochrain died, I got a little weepy hearing about it and I had absolutely no attachment to him whatsoeve before his death. I, like most of the country, thought O.J. was guilty. But here I was, thinking “Johhny I hardly knew ya” and tearing up. And then there are the little things that make me want to cry, like the little flippant remarks Rachel makes that take me off guard. “Have a nice bath,” she said the other night as she scurried into bed after going to the bathroom and I was preparing the water. Or this evening when I was making clay figures with her and the news was on in the background and she suddenly turned around looked at the television and said, “I like this show….this mom and dad show. Nice.” with a very serious look on her face, and then turned back around to finish her project. My hormones go nuts at things like this. And when Hannah pats my back when I’m holding her….or laughs her laugh—the hormones surge up making my eyes and heart all tingly. And then there’s my husband, who let me sleep in this morning and took Hannah out to give me a break. My heart is bursting with warm fuzzies. And all the bloggers I am meeting, who are all so unique and creative, and funny or thoughtful or both. My hormone friends are standing up and cheering you all on. It is the strangest thing. And not so bad. If they would only stop fogging my brain up everything would be fine.

And no, I am most definitely not pregnant.

Elizabeth Nourse, The Mother (1888)
Cincinnati Art Museum

You know that moment when you are sick and you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck because it’s the middle of the night and the baby is crying and you force yourself to get up. And you pick up the baby and sit down, settle in and then you look down….

Elizabeth Nourse captured that moment for me. This is it.

Except she’s not wearing worn out pajamas, like me.

So, I took the girls out for ice-cream yesterday afternoon and on the way home Rachel asked, “What if I had one hundred ice-cream cones?” Boring Mommy Smarty-pants killed the mood; “You wouldn’t be able to hold all those ice-cream cones, would you?” A minute later, Rachel out-smarted Mommy Smarty-pants. “Well, we could juggle them!” Oh yeah. Didn’t think of that, did I?

If anyone has been following the two-week saga of my attempt to move Hannah from a morning to an afternoon nap, here’s an update. I thought I won the battle, but I lost it in the ninth inning. Yesterday, we made it through another long morning. The poor thing was so ready to nap that every five minutes she would lay down on the floor and suck her thumb for thirty seconds. Still, we got through the morning. She got a five minute nap on the way to picking Rachel up. I then was able to put Hannah to sleep at the same time as her big sister and she slept almost two hours and for the first time in two weeks did not wake up in a god-awful mood. It seemed to signal a victory for Mommy Smarty-pants.

HOWEVER, this morning by 9:30, bless her, the poor little thing was so tired I took pity on her and put her in her crib. We were out for a walk and I think she was falling asleep in the stroller with her eyes open and then after I stroked her hair and woke her up she had this sad little cry all the way home. What was I thinking? After I put her down she slept for two hours. No afternoon nap, but she was not too grumpy. What the heck, the morning nap schedule is easier anyway. So what if I’m house-bound most of the day. There’s always blogging, right?

Anyway it’s settled I think. She’s in charge. I’m not. I had dreams of getting out of the house with her in the mornings, but I’ll just have to wait it out. You were right Average Mom; you can’t change a nap time. It is what it is. And Mommy Smarty-pants isn’t so smart after all.