Dear Hannah,

You are two! I am amazed. I am proud. I am in awe of my beautiful, wild, calm, sweet Hannah.

How can I describe you when all I want to do is watch you, with my jaw and heart dropped open. How does one describe a little girl who carries a little truck in one hand and a doll in another. Who is so attached to her blanky and yet so completely fearless at times. Who is so independent, and so in love with her mommy.

How do I describe my love for you? I can’t. It’s too big, too endless. Instead, I will tell you about you at two.

You are tall. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are fast and athletic. Your big, calm eyes have turned from blue, to hazel and now perhaps brown. You have just mastered the art of jumping with two feet firmly in sync. In fact, you can pull your feet up high and deliberately land on your bottom. I am no longer afraid of you jumping off high places, like I once was. You have learned to be wary of heights and can handle stairs safely, with a parent’s watchful eye.

You like your babies. “Pink Baby,” “Purple Baby,” and “Jo-Jo.” (But know we not to give you the OTHER pink baby, which you for some reason refer to as “daddy’s pink baby.”) You sleep with them at night, and also with your panda bear. We heard you this morning saying goodnight to them all. When came in you had them all lying next to each other, tummies down and looked to me with a proud face. You used to put them good-night by placing them all between the crib rail and the wall, face toward the wall. I think they must be more comfortable in their new position.

You like your little cars and those silly McDonald’s handheld computer games that you call your ‘ipods.” You like only one video. A 1990s concert of Barney and Friends at Carnegie Hall.

You love your blanket and your thumb.

You love cuddling with your mommy. Every 10 minutes for 30 seconds. You love holding my hand when you eat.

And you love playing with your Dad and sister.

You wake up grumpy, but go to bed singing lullabies with me like you are in a German Biergarten, rocking back and forth. You first ask for “Bye Baby” (Rock-a-bye Baby), then you ask for “Boy” (Danny Boy). Finally we sing a very long version of “Goodnight Hannah” sung to the tune of Good-night Ladies. This is when I understand the world through your eyes, Hannah. You sing goodnight to all the people you have taken into your heart. “Noo-night Rachel,” “Noo-night Rachel and Hannah’s Daddy.” And also goodnight to every friend, their parents, their noses, their books. And good night to me, “Hannah’s Mommy,” you say looking into my eyes. And you teach me how stongly we all belong to each other. Hannah’s Mommy. Mommy’s Hannah. Rachel’s Hannah. Hannah’s Daddy. Hannah’s Nay-Nay. Nay-Nay’s Mommy. We all adjoined and connected in these interesting ways.

You are independent. You run when it’s time to be with a babysitter or go to preschool. You reach the door 20 steps ahead of me and start clammering to play. When your little best-friend, “Nay-Nay” is visiting with Maria (”Nay-nay house”), you don’t want me very close to you. I think I must cramp your style. If I get too close you hold out your hand like a traffic guard and say “No!”

You are brave. You are only afraid of your shadow sometimes. “Shadow nice” we tell each other, as you cling to me with trepidation. You can hug big bears and go back for more.

You are talking, putting four and more words together. “Hannah make it, paper baby, Mama” you say, showing me a drawing you made, a scribble that perhaps is a baby. “Did it, Mama!” You say again, pointing to the paper with excitement.

You started crawling at six months, walking at ten months. You were a climber (wiping sweat from my brow). A hummer. You always hummed a little tune to match the vibrations of your running as you ran across the flour. You were in tune with the earth, with your world, with your physicality.

I watch you Hannah, in awe of everything you are that is different from me. And then I get stunned each time I find an old photo of me at your age and see you in my eyes, in my expression. How can that be?

It has always been that way, Hannah, and I hope it always will be. You defy categorization. You can not quite ever be captured.

When you were first handed to me you looked like a weathered war general. A few hours later you were all cleaned up and we were alone in the hospital room. We looked at each other and the world stopped turning. Your eyes so beautiful and calm. My gorgeous girl.

I have a feeling that’s how it always will be. I will have those moments. The world will stop as we look into each others eyes.

And then it will always start again, and I will have to sit back and watch my amazing, sweet Hannah.

Thank you for two wonderful years.

Hannah’s Mommy loves Mommy’s Hannah more than words can capture.

I can only show Elmo off because you know the history of my cakemaking.

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Quote of the day:

Me (to Rachel): I’m not mad at you. I just don’t like it when you ask the same question over and over again.

Rachel: I don’t like it either. It makes me sad, too.

Midterm? Done.

Birthday Party? Sunday.

Write a Novel? Month of November.

Am I crazy?

Are you asking me? The crazy woman?

Four more days until the official start of NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month.

Here is the scoop:

“National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved. Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly. Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap……”

You better believe I will be writing a lot of crap

Here’s my update. I have no plot, but a general sense of who the players are. The main character is an archivist/mom (Wow! What a stretch.) and most of the excitement will take place in her head and in history as she looks over old letters asking questions about her father. Which leads to other questions….and discoveries.

In the end, I hope it will not be so much a novel about her and her father, as a novel about the divisions in this country (past and present) and the heartbreak and joys of being a visionary here, on either side of the spectrum. I also have a feeling that in the end it will steer away from being a book about a man, her father, to being a book about being a strong women in this country. We shall see.

I don’t write fiction. I’m going to try. And a lot of it is going to be crap. I don’t think I’ll be sharing much of it here, but perhaps little peeks. I don’t know. I’m going to take it as it comes.

I’ll probably put myself on a real blog schedule in November, posting twice a week on say, Tuesdays and Fridays, or something like that. Yes, yes, I can’t stick to schedules, but I’m going to try. Mr. G, my 4th grade science teacher, told us never to use the word can’t. (There’s a future post. Amazing teachers in my life.)

Here’s my list of blogging buddies doing this too. Question mark means I’m unsure of your status. If you’re not on here, let me know and I’ll add you.

Interstellar Lass
Angie
Mamacita
Catherine/Fountain Pen
J Star
Indigo
Tamara
Vicki
Judy
Stephanie
Poopie
Zee
Elle

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And for those who know my cake-making history, I am going to attempt to make an Elmo cake.

Really.

If you know me, you know that’s braver than trying to write a novel.

I will post my letter to Hannah on Sunday or Monday.

Or earlier.

I don’t have to stay on schedule until November.

This exchange took place five minutes ago;

Me: Rachel, get your shoes on, please.

Rachel: (Teasing look in her eye) No.

Me: Rachel, don’t say no to me.

Rachel: Yes, my beautiful Queen.

Her joke writers are getting good.

And I liked the sound of that.

Note: My midterm is tonight. I’m coming around tomorrow (and possibly tonight after the test) to catch up on all your happenings. Have missed you all.

I’ve been studying for my midterm, so have had little time to think about posts. I’m missing visiting you, but will come around soon.

Meme time. If you have ever tagged me for a meme, I’m not ignoring you, I just forgot. Now is the time to remind me. I don’t have these moods often.

Interstellar Lass tagged me with this one. Go congratulate her on finishing her marathon!

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

The Results” (drum roll)
“Why did the doggie step on a can? Because it’s all mushy.” Curious? Read the whole post, here.

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And Angie tagged me with this one. Go help her with baby boy clothing referrals. She’s not interested in just blue.

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Buy a baby grand piano and start taking lessons again
2. Take singing lessons from a seasoned blues specialist
3. Work in an archive (as an archivist or researcher again)
4. Take my children to Scotland to show them where we lived
5. Make my farming ancestors proud by developing a green thumb
6. Get back to my pre-mommy weight
7. Live abroad again

7 things I can do:
1. Communicate with children
2. Sing on key
3. Dream something up and pursue it
4. Teach a college class of 120 students without a teaching assistant, though I choose never to exploited that way again.
5. Create a damn good museum exhibit on a $200 budget and with no paid assistant
6. Make my husband and girls laugh
7. Make myself laugh
(and I’m afraid that just about exhausts my ability to make people laugh)

7 things I cannot do:
1. Dance to choreography
2. Schmooze well or long with someone I don’t like
3. Get to bed on time
4. Play the tuba
5. Speak Italian
6. Have someone take a flash photo of me and not have my eyes closed in the photo (seriously)
7. Stick to a self-imposed schedule

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. Humor
2. Compassion/kindness
3. Intelligence/conviction
4. Laughs at my jokes
5. Legs
6. Face
7. Father of my children

7 things that I say most often:
1. It’s late and I have no friggin idea. (no I don’t SAY that)
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7. okay, maybe “Do you want to cuddle?”

7 celebrity crushes:
1. Rachel and Hannah’s Daddy
2. Jon Stewart
3. Gwyneth Paltrow
4. Catherine Newman
5. Everyone else on my blogroll……

Good night folks!

Once again, going to a pumpkin farm tomorrow!

An interesting thing happened this week. Rachel and I went on separate vacations and a shrew and a brat stood in our places. We got back from vacation today and welcomed each other back. We decided that it was two cousins that took our spaces, and we are SO glad to have each other again. Welcome back, we told each other tonight before bed. Whew.

It’s been a rough couple of days, but we’re back on track.

And no, it really had nothing to do with the haircut. That was resolved quite amicably in the end.

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Hannah will turn two on Sunday. We’ll celebrate quietly as a family. Her party will be the following week.

My sweet Hannah. Can I put it into words?

I’ll try next week if I don’t get swamped with party preparations.

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Kitty, originally uploaded by raehan.

I have had Feline Friday envy for too long. Who started the tradition, by the way? I’ll link you here.

I am going to do a stream of consciousness about this photo and set the timer for two minutes.

I think I was in third grade when this photo was taken of me. I loved my cats, but they didn’t like to cuddle as much as I wanted to. This is cheesecake, one of our three cats. She was actually incredibly affectionate and quite neurotic. I had an interesting fashion sense, didn’t I? I like the stripes under the fashion sweater. The bandana on top of it all is an incredibly brilliant move on my part, I think.

Look at my face and look at Cheesecake’s face. Can you see why I longed for a dog growing up. I wanted kisses. She didn’t.

But a great cat. One of a kind. When we took her camping she would follow us for miles on long hikes, like a dog. No, we weren’t trying to lose her out in the woods.

Happy weekend everyone! I’ll be taking the weekend off while I study for a midterm and admire my brand new two year old.

A few weeks ago, my family and I were out for breakfast together. Hannah, who turns two next week, was struggling with her Dad over a cup of milk. She wanted to hold it by herself. He wanted to keep a hand on the bottom of it to keep it steady. I completely understood why he wanted to hold that cup steady. For some reason, however, I gave him a patronizing look, raised my eyebrows annoyingly, and said, “Independence.” He knew what I was referring to. The wonderful teachers at Rachel’s preschool have been encouraging us to let our children do things by themselves. A minute after Dad took his hand off of the bottom of the cup, Hannah flipped the straw out of her cup so forcefully that quite a few droplets of milk flew over table onto a lady sitting behind us. Of course, I felt I had to explain to her what had happened. I didn’t want her imagining she had been spit on or anything. Yeah. I’m sure my explanation relieved her tremendously. Oh, just droplets of milk landing on me? Why that’s so pleasant.

This experiment-in-Indepedence-gone-bad contrasts with another experiment I had around the same time. We were at a local event where a big costumed bear was present. At Hannah’s age, Rachel was terrified of costumed characters. I wasn’t sure what Hannah’s reaction would be. I had some time alone with Hannah and brought her to the bear. In my overbearing way, I suggested that she give the bear a hug. She backed off and seemed frightened, but still curious. I gave up, and decided to lay low and not interfere, to give this independence thing a try. I became the observer.

It was so deeply toucing observing Hannah manage her own fears. At first she got close to the bear only from the side and each time the bear turned around to face her, she’d run back toward me. Gradually, she moved in front of the bear and would run away only when the bear held out its hand. The next step for Hannah, was touching the bear’s hand. Then finally she gave the bear her first hug.

I still have that image of Hannah with her arms behind her, in preparation for the hug, walking quickly toward the bear. She must have held that position, arms raised up behind her consciously, until the bear finally saw her and turned to her. After the hug, she ran back toward me with a big smile on her face. She went in for hugs after that, again and again, each time looking like a little airplane on a runway with her arms behind her. When she gave each hug she leaned her chest into the bear, but still kept her arms raised up behind her.

Rachel showed up a bit afterwards with her Dad. She watched Hannah hug the bear, but was still too nervous to try it herself. Not wanting her to feel ashamed, I decided she needed to show off to me, so we went to a climbing structure that she had finally managed to climb. The structure was a look-out tower, so high it was only for kids four and older. A rope ladder led up to a platform about 12-15 feet off the ground. Rachel was nervous, but took her time with her step, proud to show me that she was brave enough to climb that high. I watched her climb it and started to think about how paralyzed I am by my fear of heights. What have I been missing? If I confronted my fear of heights with bungy jumping or some such thing, would that free me? And look at that other mother, I thought, letting her two year old climb the rope. Is she nuts, or am I nuts to protect my children so neurotically, hovering over Hannah constantly when she’s climbing.

After some time, we were ready to head back over to Hannah and Dad. I took Rachel’s hand to help her step off the rope. At that brief moment, I heard this whooshing and felt a rustling of wind behind my back. And then a thud.

I looked, in shock, at the two year old on the ground. He had fallen from the platform so high above. Fortunately, he had landed on his stomach. We gasped and stood there in those few seconds. After I don’t know how long, probably 4 seconds, it felt like 30, he moved his head and started crying.

When we finally left the scene I was shaken so deeply I could feel it physically.

I know I received some answers that day. I’m just not quite sure what they were, except for the definite “No” to the skydiving. That came through loud and clear.

I fear I will retain my neurotic fear of heights to an old age.

Why is that both comforting and sad to me?

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Speaking of Independence, guess who took her child scissors and chopped her little sister’s hair this afternoon while mom was cleaning up in the kitchen 20 feet away. One side of her head was all chopped and scraggly. The funny thing is the first thing I noticed was that Hannah was standing on a little chair without a diaper on. Then I noticed that she had huge clumps of hair in her hands. Then I noticed that Rachel was awfully quiet. Then I noticed that Hannah looked a little like Cyndi Lauper.

I swear I thought they were playing with the doctor kit when I heard Rachel say, “Did that hurt?” Doesn’t that sound like someone giving someone a shot to you?

I was able to make a late afternoon appointment at the hair cutters. Hannah is now sporting a Dorothy Hamill cut. ( When I mentioned this to Rachel, she insisted that Dorothy Hamill couldn’t be famous because she didn’t know who she is and if you are famous everyone knows who you are.)

Ending on the Independence theme, Hannah is starting the two year old program at Rachel’s school tomorrow. It’s three mornings a week. She is so excited about it, she ran into the classroom this morning thinking it was time to start already. Then when we picked Rachel up she again darted wildly toward the classroom, wanting to say “good-bye” to her future teacher.

Oy. They are showing me the way, aren’t they? Taking me by the hand and leading me through this Independence maze.

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As if this post wasn’t long enough, I am finally feeling ready to do a big meme blow-out, except I don’t remember all the people I owe memes to. If I owe you one, remind me here and I will oblige. I’m sorry I’ve been so bad. I am not always in the meme mood, but I feel one coming on.

An interesting thing has been happening in Raehanville. The sun has been setting, and that sun just might be me.

“What does it feel like being loved like that?” my husband used to ask me good-naturedly, as my two girls clung to me and even my dog stared at me as if I were the love of her life. And I knew what he meant. It really was like I was a big Sun being orbited by these other beings in my family.

And how did it feel? Well, it felt hot. And overwhelmingly heavy sometimes. And uncomfortably, sweating-of-the-brow type blissful. Or sometimes, not uncomfortable, but perfectly blissful, sweat and all.

But things are changing here, as I’ve said. I don’t know quite know how to describe it other than to say my girls are becoming healthy, confident, independent creatures.

And I am no longer the sun.

I’m not sure what I am, really. Maybe a big Jupiter, and all in my family are gravitating around each other now, rather than exclusively around me.

And it is good. And beautiful really.

This is all so vague, I know.

You’ll have to just trust me on this one. Until I’ve accepted it all, this seems to be all I know how to say.

Right now this sun is just a teeny bit, whole-lot-of sad. But I don’t want to admit it. That’s why I can’t seem to write about the details.

Yet.

But they will come.

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To answer your questions, dear readers:

Mistress Mary asked, “Did you miss us?”
Why do you think i was lurking around your sites the whole week? Yes!

Mrs. Darling asked “I want the post of everything you accomplished. And at the same time tell us how it felt to be an “unblogger”. Were you tempted to write or were you relieved you didn’t have to blog?”
List of acomplishments: Basically I accomplished a 90% complete decluttering of my house, including playroom, all closets, and office. Good Will made out like bandits and the garbage pick-up folks have their work cut out for them. I also read a lot for my course. Filed everything in my office. Learned how to use iCal on my mac and entered all upcoming events on it. You get the picture. Was I tempted to blog? I was not tempted to post until the very end, and by then I had gotten out of the practice of writing and it was/is hard to get going again. As you can see.

Hoss asked, “You call that a hiatus?”
Well, Hoss, I never called my break a hiatus, but if a hiatus is supposed to be 20 times longer than the break I took then we all better start banging on Bonnie’s door and telling her to take a break instead of a hiatus.

Last night I saw a movie in a theater. Yes, a theater. It was “In Her Shoes.”

I thought it would be good, since I love Toni Collette. It was, in fact, great.

Cameron Diaz and Shirley McLaine had exceptional performances. And that cute guy from “Love Actually,” the one that was secretly in love with Kira Knightly, was a lead. Beautiful, beautiful movie. My favorite part was Diaz’s relationship with a man in the nursing home. There was one scene that gave me chills I was so touched.

Okay, maybe it was a bit of a chick flick.

Yes, I cried.

And then someone’s cell phone went off.

I am so tempted to write a post describing all that I accomplished this week, but that was why I stopped blogging. I had so much to do that I was in danger of turning my posts into a series of “To Do” lists and proposed daily schedules. I bored my family with such schedules when I was a teenager. The summer before I went to college I spent weeks trying to come up with a daily schedule for college. It included a 9:30 bedtime.

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha………….

(Yes, I entertain myself.)

There are even more embarassing aspects of this schedule, but I won’t tell. Not tonight anyway.

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Real post coming on Tuesday.

Favorites Gallery

This is a list of YOUR favorites from your own writings. We started it last summer, and It is an evolving list that will remain highlighted on my sidebar.

If you are not on this list and you want to be, e-mail me or leave a comment below. I have not delibaretely left anyone off, so if you gave me links and I forgot to add them, please remind me.

If you have favorites on here already and want to add or change, let me know.

Happy Reading!

aka Monty
Angie
Arethusa 1,Arethusa 2, Arethusa 3
Arjun 1, Arjun 2,Arjun 3
Average Mom
Auntie M
Big Little Sister 1, Big Little Sister 2, Big Little Sister 3
Bonnie
Buffi 1, Buffi 2, Buffi 3, Buffi 4, ,
Carmi 1, Carmi 2, Carmi 3, Carmi 4
Carol, Carol 2
Catherine/Fountain Pen
Christine 1, Christine 2
Claire
Cori 1, Cori 3
Cybervassels/Tamara
Hillbilly Mom 1, Hillbilly Mom 2, Hillbilly Mom 3
Holly
Hoss’s Book Chapter 1, Hoss Chapter 2, Hoss Chapter 3, Hoss, Chapter 4, Hoss, Chapter 5
Interstellar Lass, Lass 2, Lass 3, Lass 4, Lass 6
Jean-Luc 1Jean-Luc 2
J & J’s Mom
Kate, Kate 2, Kate 3
Kiki, Kiki 2, Kiki 3, Kiki 2, Kiki 3
Last Girl on Earth 1, Last Girl 2, Last Girl 3
Leanne
Lucinda Lucinda 2
Mamacita
Marie/Practigal 1, Marie 2
Merideth 1, Meredith 2, Meredith 3
Minerva 1, Minerva 2, Minerva 3
Mistress Mary 1, Mistress Mary 2
Mrs. Dort, Mrs. Dort
Mrs. Mogul 1, Mrs. Mogul 2, Mrs. Mogul 3
Muzik Dude 1, Muzik Dude 2
MommaK 1, Momma K 2, Momma K 3, Momma K 4
Poopie 1, Poopie 2, Poopie 3
Running2ks-1, Running2ks-2, R2K-3
R2K-4, R2K-5, R2K-6
Shane
Sleeping Mommy
Sarcasmom
Shelli,Shelli 2,Shelli 3
StephanieStephanie 2Stephanie 3
Square Slant 1Square Slant 2,
True Jersey 1, True Jersey 2
Vicki

Weary Hag 1Weary Hag 2, Weary Hag 3
xtessa 1, Xtessa 2

Is anyone else doing this? I’m going to need company. Does anyone want to join me?

I figure I will never run a marathon. This is my marathon.

Now help me. You know me. What kind of novel do you imagine me writing? I have a vague sense of where I might go with this, but I’m not set on it.

Suggest a few characters if you have time.

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Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends!! I hope you are enjoying your long weekend. What do Canadians eat on Thanksgiving? What is the Canadian Thanksgiving story?

That Thursday Thirteen wiped me out of things to talk about. Either that or I’m just plain tuckered out from the week.

In lieu of my Halloween clown face photo, which I can’t find now, here are my sisters and I when I was two or three. I wasn’t a “bum” THAT year.

Happy Weekend Everyone! I’m off to a pumpkin patch.

I’m the youngest, the bunny looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Okay, I’m going to try this Thursday Thirteen thing. I’m procrastinating, okay?

1. Is it Thursday, already?
2. Darn, it’s Thursday.
3. So that means tomorrow is Friday
4. Yay, it’s Thursday.
5. I have an assignment due tomorrow for an online class I’m taking. I did it last night but am worried that I didn’t do it right, so am not quite ready to send it. This class makes me feel a little bit like I’m in that recurring dream I used to have when I was in graduate school. I used to dream that I was suddenly back at my high school because I hadn’t taken enough classes. I would wander around the hallways going to some classes, but there were other classes I was not showing up for. And in my dream, there was this sense of dread that I would never leave high school. Then I would wake up and think, what the hell would it matter if I didn’t graduate from high school? I have a masters degree. So anyway, this online class gives me a sense of dread that there is this class that I’m not showing up for. And I am feeling it today.
6. It’s pre-nap time. My girls are playing night-night together. In this game, Hannah never wants me to participate, it’s her time with her older sister. Rachel, however, would like me to play with. If I follow Rachel’s lead and try to get into the game, Hannah holds up her hand like a crossing guard and says “Noooo!”
7. We have a very small backyard and have finally made the decision to get rid of the grass and put down more flagstone. We have clay soil and the grass turns into a swamp in the winter. The people doing the job for us are a Vietnamese couple and their one assistant. The wife is so cute. She comes wearing designer jeans and feminine floppy hat and gets down to business, looking so pretty. I can’t help wishing I was her. I think I have a little crush on her or something.
8. I’m having anxiety over the paint decisions. I have a hard time being patient with the whole process. That’s why I’m not good with crafts. I want it done now!! Skip from step one to step 9. That’s why I run into problems.
9. Even though Hannah likes her space when she’s playing with someone, she often wants to hold my hand when she’s eating in her high chair. While she’s holding my hand she sometimes puts her head on the table and puts her thumb in her mouth.
10. Rachel wants to be a bride for Halloween. I’m so glad she didn’t want to be a princess, but I have mixed feelings about the whole bride thing. Was I the only one that was a bum every Halloween for about 4 years in a row. Actually, when I was five I was a clown and used my mom’s lipstick to draw a big clown mouth around my lips. It didn’t wash off for about a week and every day walking home from school the crossing guard would ask me what was on my face. I need to find a photo of me in that clown costume. Actually it was really a clown-bum costume that I put together.
11. Hannah is going to be JoJo the clown. She is excited now, but I have this fear that she’s going to take a look at the bride costume and want to be a bride, too. One bride is enough.
12. Mom, forgive me, but I have to tell this Halloween story. One year when I was a kid, my Mom made me go trick-or-treating the night before Halloween because she heard that it was going to rain on Halloween night. No one had any candy ready. It didn’t rain on Halloween. And yes, mom, I love you anyway and thank you for giving me a story that makes me laugh 20 some years later.
13. My bedroom window ovelooks a glorious California oak tree. I’m looking at it right now. The weather is also glorious today. I love October.

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

(leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

1. Interstellar Lass
2. Sleeping Mommy
3. Angie
4. MommaK
5.Catherine
6.Uzi
7.Leanne
leave your link in the comments and I’ll link you here.

Leanne’s rules for Thursday Thirteen
Thirteen things is all I ask for, and what do you get in return? Linkage! If you do it, leave a comment here and link me to your Thursday Thirteen. I will be sure to update my entry with links to yours, and then you can continue the chain if you like! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

So, do you want to know how our day went? Yes?

Where did I leave off? Oh yes. At the crack of dawn, Rachel was sleeping in the crook of my arm due to an earache. Eventually, I got up and started getting ready for the day, while she slept. There would be no preschool.

Unknown to me, Hannah also had an ear infection. I should have seen the signs. Hannah didn’t eat her breakfast. Then as soon as we cleared the dishes she kept crying to eat. The stupid five dollar dancing witch–the one that dances to the song “Super Freak”– the impulse buy– was no longer a source of communal dancing. No, this morning it was Hannah’s witch and don’t you dare even look at it or prepare to suffer Hannah wrath. “Miiiiiiiiine!” she would cry, running across the room and taking “Super Freak” into her arms lovingly. Imagine an hour of screeching and that would be the first few hours of my morning. Add to that real hitting from Hannah. Despite what I’ve written in the past, this is uncharacteristic of her. Normally, she’s a sweet kid. She definitely was off. Couldn’t quite focus.

After the doctor, we had to kill time in the drug store while we waited for the prescriptions to be ready. I have so many memories in that store. These 30 minutes of walking around with a sick child, looking desperately for something to do. Rachel as a baby, with a fever. Rachel as a toddler, with a fever. Memories of walking around staring at the seasonal aisles blankly-Halloween, Christmas..until cold season was through. Hannah, who this morning had not been on pain reliever since I had not known she had an infection, was clearly uncomfortable as we walked the aisles. In fact, I was not myself. Normally I don’t give in to requests for toys when I take the girls shopping. Today I left the drugstore with two new “babies” for the girls. I picked up a copy of Vogue for myself. Yes, I needed an escape.

Then we are back home. Hannah is crying because the new dolly’s hat isn’t fitting right on her head. This goes on for a few hours until I put them both down for naps.

When they wake up, I let them both watch “Concert Barney.” This is a video that we inherited from Rachel’s teenage cousins. In other words, it’s Barney from the early 1990s. Rachel watched it when she was Hannah’s age. We put it away when she outgrew it. On a whim last week, I introduced it to Hannah, who until then had never showed an interest in television. Barney is now a celebrity in our house again. Anyway, it is after naps and Hannah is snuggling with me and watching while I flip through the pages of Vogue.

The main story in the current issue of Vogue is about Gwyneth Paltrow, someone who I have come to appreciate over the years. As I read the article, I started to identify with her a little bit. She’s a mother, too. She wakes up early, plays with Apple, put her down for a nap, just as I did my first years of motherhood. See. We’re alike. In fact, we’re about the same height, so if you take twenty pounds off me, perhaps I’d look a tiny bit like her. Add a few acting awards, fashion shows, some power yoga, and rock-star friends and I’d be her. You get the idea. In my mind I was morphing into Gwyneth.

So there I am, Gwyneth, reading about myself. I am sophisticated, but down-to-earth, the interviewer is explaining. I am shopping at designer stores, but missing my dear Apple and wanting to rush right back to her.

And then Rachel interrupts me from my Gwyneth self with an excited cry, “Mom! She dances like YOU!”

I look up and see THIS creature gyrating her hips and talking like a baby.

She’s pretty, too. Right?

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Okay, update. I asked Rachel to show me again the part of the video where Baby Bop dances like me. This time I was not in a Gwyneth moment and was actually flattered because Baby Bop was dancing pretty well…..in a 1990s, trying-to-be-hip kind of way.

And Rachel meant it as a compliment, so I’ll take it.

Rachel has been very loud lately. She almost always wakes up in the mornings in a cheerful, talkative mood, but lately it’s like the volume has been on overdrive. Yesterday evening, more than 10 times we had to ask her to keep the volume down.

“Just not so loud,” we’d say.

“We’re not young whippersnappers anymore,” I explained.

“What?” she asked blankly.

“I don’t really know what a whippersnapper is either,” I admitted.

Last night she came into our room and told me her ear hurt. I gave her some Tylenol. A few hours later, she came in again with the same complaint. I gave her some Motrin. Ear infection, undoubtedly. She never admits that her ear hurts until it’s very bad. I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection between the noise level and her ears.

She has a history of ear infections. She doesn’t get them very often anymore, I’ll take her into the doctor this morning.

The good news, she spent the last hour of the morning sleeping in the crook of my arm in our bed. I don’t get to hold her close as often as I used to.

Oh sleep, I miss you.

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Update: Rachel has an ear infection. Hannah (!) has a double ear infection.

Upside: We’re out of the monotonous preschool routine.
Downside: Grumpiness abound.

Frequent pattern of conversation during Hannah’s recent diaper changings.

Hannah lightly slaps her own leg and smiles coyly.

Me: Don’t hit Hannah. That hurts.

Hannah: (Smiling still.) Huwt Daddy?

Me: No. Don’t hurt Daddy.

Hannah: Huwt Daydoh (Rachel)?

Me: No. Don’t hurt Rachel.

Hannah: Huwt Charlie?

Me: No. Don’t hurt Charlie.

I’m hoping this stage ends quickly.

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I seem to have an awful lot of readers from Canada. I’ve travelled all over Europe and spent considerable time in Asia but know shamefully little about Canada, my neighbor. As a little girl, I travelled with my family to Montreal. As a honeymooner, I spent three weeks in British Columbia and fell in love with it.

So Canadians, tell me a few things I should know about your region of Canada. And if I don’t know you, please introduce yourself. I will post your comments here.

Better Safe Than Sorry says: “I live in mississauga,ontario, it’s part of a region called the gta, which is short for greater toronto area. toronto is an international city, so you’ve probably heard of it, one of it’s big sites is the cn tower, which is visible to the eye from my home. mississauga is about 10-15 minutes from toronto, depending on traffic, it’s a city on its own, but considered to be a bedroom community of toronto. mississauga borders onto lake ontario, which i can also see from my home. canada celebrates thanksgiving a week tomorrow, in case you were planning on making pumpkin tarts to send to me, you should probably get them done tomorrow!”

Marie says: “Toronto is a wonderful city! I’m not in Canada, but from western NY, Toronto is a popular destination. It’s only a 3-hour drive from Rochester, so it’s the place to go for plays, musicals… (It’s more like 6 hours to drive to NYC.) Pre-family I went often — saw Phantom of the Opera, Beauty & The Beast, Miss Saigon in Toronto. It’s very easy to get around Toronto too, with their beautiful subway. One thing I like about Canada is that it is so CLEAN. And there are flowers every where. Ottawa is also beautiful - with the wonderful old parliament buildings, and annual tulip festival.

Arethusa says: “Ummm…it’s nice here, come visit”

Michele says: “I could list countless things I love about Canada. However, for now I simply want to introduce you to Joe. In 2000, the passionate words of Joe’s Rant (which was in fact a beer commercial) tugged at the patriotic heartstrings of Canadians. The ad, which poked fun at Americans’ incorrect perceptions of Canada, was a huge hit with Canadians. The rant does make me smile. What also makes me smile is my many friends who live in that wonderful country just south of Canada.

Carol says: “I am a Canadian, born on the beautiful prairies in a small town. I love the sky, grass, wind and space. Canadians are known for being polite and I have to admit I am pretty polite and if I am not polite I feel guilty about it. I love it up here although there were a few snowflakes that fell today and I hate winter driving,still.

Tamara says: “Well. You know what they say about the weather up here. If you don’t like it, wait five minutes…You knew I was Canadian right? I just love it. It’s big, It’s diverse. We have Joe. Part of our country just can’t grow trees. We have a Queen, which is kinda cute, and snow, and rain, and autumn in the Gatineau’s. That’s the best part about where I live (Ottawa). Gatineau Park. I’ll take some pictures this fall and send them your way. They will make you cry.

Raehan says: Sigh. “I need to go visit. I wanted to anyway, because of all of you, but then Joe convinced me completely.”