Air non-freshener

I'm just going to say that if you ever see a fragrance called "Dead rodent in the wall," don't buy it. Unless as a practical joke or to drive away potential guests.

Boys overheard

I've been reading about the terrific necessity of free play, and I think we do pretty well with that in our house. It's called "ignoring the kids." Then they create war zones with their Nerf guns or snake train tracks around rolls or wrapping paper or make up carnival games where they throw stuffed animals at landmarks around the house for points (10 points for the windchime!)

I just caught them slapping their bellies in the bath in some sort of 2 man drum circle. I really couldn't orchestrate them better if I tried.

Day After

I hate how Christmas kind of blows it's load in one day and then we sit around aimlessly waiting for New Year's Eve. There should be more second and third day traditons. Like today should be "share a pastry with some neighbors around brunch time" day and tomorrow should be "evening cocktails with friends day." And then we could have white elephant exchange day. I would put up the snap on camisole dickies that I got in my stocking. Do you think my MIL was giving me a hint?

Wow wow wow!

Aldo woke up and found the presents that we wrapped and added to under the tree. Not the Santa presents, of course, but the ones from mom and dad. He quickly did the accounting and figured that there were 4 MORE presents.

The excitement is real around here. The boys discuss Santa's itinerary even though I haven't introduced NORAD's Santa Tracker. We've still discussing the implications of the Portable North Pole's message to the boys. Owen knows he is on the naughty watch (because of some bad choices in school and is aware of the possibility he'll get nothing but a clump of dirt (lump of coal.) It's heavy stuff.

I haven't figured out a way to stem the avalanche of toys that hits us tomorrow, but some might disappear before the new year to make an appearance sometime next summer. I am glad that the boys really got into playing Uno and Jenga and that they feel like they've missed something if I've given out homeless sockings without them.

A non-school morning

Aldo couldn't reach the oatmeal crock in the fridge so he was a little grumpy when he greeted me with "Oatmeal please, pretty mommy sweetheart." Owen came in and just flopped on the bed with his feet up near my pillow.

I heated up the oatmeal, made to specifications--with raisins, dates, walnuts, cinnamon, and a splash of milk. I take the walnuts as a small victory because Aldo refused walnuts for months. Every morning, I'd make his oatmeal and then add walnuts to the leftovers for me. But then, out of the blue, he announced that he's ready to try walnuts and that, in fact, he likes them. I'm waiting for that to happen with mushrooms.

Anyhow, Owen requested fried egg and English muffin. Aldo finished his oatmeal and asked for his usual, "and what Owen has." And Pandora played Disco for us.

The stale helium balloons we've had for three days are still playable and they've been trying to figure out how to play catch with them. I taped one up to the livingroom doorway and they've been swatting it with swim noodle light sabers as a makeshift pinata.

And now I 'm typing this while sipping coffee mixed with sweetened condensed milk. Did you know they sell it in a reclosable squeeze bottle? I found it in the Mexican food section, but it reminds me most of the coffees I had in Vietnam. Sure, they had those individual dark coffee filters dripping directly into your cup and I'm using Starbucks instant, but close enough.

I like these non-school day mornings. I can't quite handle that we're giving them up for kindergarten.

Mario Kart Wii

Aldo and I had a date last week and I rented a game to rival Owen's Laser Tag date with Greg and the Adventure Guides. Although it's hard to beat Laser Tag, I combined Mario with a trip to TGI Fridays where they have BLUE DRINKS!!! that TASTE LIKE SODA!!! and the waitress bring you 3 extra maraschino cherries!!! Not to mention the brownie sundae.

I am at the moment watching the kids play Mario Kart on the Wii while I write this. Parent supervision doesn't get much easier than this.

Since this is screen time, I'm probably just allowing another layer of ADHD to settle on top of their bouncy boy brain cells, but at least they're playing nicely together and uh, learning to drive? If the freeways of the future have giant menacing mushrooms and crabs that take out cars, my boys have a head start.

Inconvenience

I try to keep up my continuing education for this mom job and what I keep learning is that everything that makes life a little easier combines to make my kids prone to obesity, ADHD, and cancer in the future.

Childcare makes kids more aggressive and impulsive later in life. Oh well.
I have to console myself with the fact that I think our Montessori program is pretty good about taking care of the kids and teaching them how to get along. When asked, Aldo recently told me that his teachers weren't nice because when you hit someone they get angry at you. That's a sign of quality right there.

And television viewing--it enables me to take a shower or get the dinner cooked and dishes washed, but at what cost? Childhood obesity, an inability to pay attention to things and rampant materialism. My kids don't watch that much television, but probably just enough to put them in the danger category. Are we really expected to pay full attention to them every minute that they're home? Who does that?

Family dinners are supposed to help heal the damage done by the rest of the day, but now making dinner is getting harder because...

Basically all canned foods contain BPA which mimic estrogens contributing to breast and endometrial cancer and early puberty in girls and low sperm and prostate cancer in boys. I just restocked the pantry with cut green beans (which the boys LOVE,) and kidney beans which I'm going to use today in chili with the canned tomatoes. I don't know how to replace these. Good thing red wine is still supposed to be good for me.

And then lunch! Just this week, there's the news that eating red meat doesn't cause heart disease but serving deli meats and processed meats does. We love turkey bacon and turkey sandwiches. I've always felt a little relieved that we don't do the red meats, but now I don't know what to put in lunch boxes if I can't stock turkey slices. Sure, sometimes I make quesadillas or put in dumplings, but there are a lot of school days and only so much on the leftover menu.

Even being online while talking to your children teaches them that it's okay to text while having conversations and not pay full attention to people around us. And I'm doing that right now.

The Mother and Son Dinner

It's tonight! We've been looking forward to this all year. It's like a prom for moms and young boys (aged 3-10) so this is the first year Aldo can go. And you can dress up--as super heroes for this year's theme. That Princess Leia outfit is turning out to be useful.

Last year, they had insects and reptiles we could touch (including hissing cockroaches and a centipede,) and "Survivor" games where we relay races to make a jigsaw puzzle. The dinner was edible but forgettable (spaghetti? taco bar?) but Owen remembers the dessert in loving detail: chocolate pudding with gummy worms sticking out of it. We got an ugly coconut tiki to take home when we won the door prize. It was awesome.

Greg would be so envious--if he weren't on the four-day fishing trip of his dreams.

Dizz-ze-nee-land!

We stayed in Disneyland until the 7:00 dance party parade. It was a Monday with a chance of rain and I think that helped with the crowds. Most rides we only waited 10 or 20 minutes. It was weird--in the Haunted Mansion we went right in to the elevator room.

I don't think Greg wanted to push a wheelchair and I am impatient and a fast walker, so we didn't do the wheelchair. It didn't seem worth it.

Oh, they loved everything. Even though they weren't chosen for Jedi training, they thought it was cool. The loved their drivers licenses at Autopia, shooting things with Buzz Lightyear, and perhaps most of all, the bunkbeds at the hotel.

California Adventure seems like the overflow waiting room for Disneyland. There aren't as many rides and it's just not as cool. Maybe being a Californian makes the theme seem a little bland. I'm glad we did that one first.

I have 4 loads of laundry to do now. :laundry: And two still excited kids at home while I do it. A naked boy in a clone trooper mask just tripped on his own pajamas. Parenthood is so surreal.

Ask Nicely

I've been training to ask the boys nicely. This involves the word "please" and the lack of the whine or the scream in the voice.

But they've taken it to the next step and somehow have learned to say, "Pretty Mommy Sweetheart, can I PLEASE have a cookie?" If that sounds a bit coached, that's because it might have been a suggestion. Greg requests, "Daddy, Best Daddy in the world who I love so much...."

But Aldo just created his own. He asked, "Can I play Blue, Pretty Mommy? Because you make the best food?" We're going to have to watch this kid.

Shoplifting

Our first deliberate shoplifting incident happened last Thursday. They craftily hid the wind-up toys in their pockets and proudly revealed them to me when they got home. The toys were promptly confiscated and a lecture ensued. Owen's defense: "Aldo told me to take it." I totally believe him.

I took them back to the scene of the crime, put the toys in their hands and told them to go say sorry for taking them. I asked the saleslady if we needed to call the store police, or if they only did that the second time it happened.

She asked the boys, "What do you think? Should we call the police this time or the second time?" Owen smiled and said, "Third time."

Sigh.

When you live with a 3-year-old

When you walk with a dog, you are alerted to every other living animal in sniffer range--bird, bug, or ground squirrel.
When you drive with a dog, you can't hear anything above the sound of the air blowing through the crack of the window.

When you live with a 5-year-old, every new person you run into will be informed that he is, in fact, five years old, that he used to be four, but not anymore. A five-year-old girl wants to wear make-up. A five-year-old boy loves his (toy) gun--even if he isn't allowed to have one until have one until he's 7.

When you walk with a 5-year-old, he might shoot everything he sees with his pointer finger pistols until he is caught and told to stop.

When you live with a 3-year-old, he will tell you every time he farts. Sometimes with details.
You will consider stealing disposable seat covers for your own bathroom until he learns aim.
You are proud of his backwards pants and wrong-footed shoes because he got dressed by himself.
When you live with a 3-year-old, he will show you how much he loves you on his fingers.

New Pens!

I just went to Sears to spend my new Christmas gift card, (thanks Aunt Liz!) and picked out some gardening tools which is exactly what I was hoping to find. And they had an Office Depot next door.

As it happened, I needed some new colorful paperclips. So, I walked in and found instead new pens. I got a very pretty little turquoise number and bought its refill. And a Ultra fine Sharpie collection called Couleurs Cafe (with an accent.) They have earl grey, blueberry, pomegranite, hibiscus and mocha.

Delicious.

Oh, and I got a pencil box for Owen because he needs writing utensils for all his writing and stuff.

And then a the checkout counter, they had paperclips.

I'm going to break out Earl Grey right now to write down a recipe.

Owen's Christmas pictures

These are the pictures Owen took with the camera Santa brought him. They were all taken on Christmas day.

Here is Aldo looking intently at a gift under the tree.



Santa brought Aldo a Clone Wars trooper helmet --just like Owen's so now they don't have to fight. Thank you, Santa.



This may be the best picture of Greg that I've got. He usually has a look of reluctance or "Can you take it already?" in pictures, but Owen got him to smile.

This is Greg from Owen's eyeline.

Aldo playing with a remote control toy. It's marvelously loud.

Here is another remote control toy. Notice how Owen got in good and close to get the detail. They love remote control toys.

An impressionistic capturing of the dining room table.

The Christmas tree?

Study of Harriet's foot at the edge of her bed with large-eyed toy near her shoulder.

Goldie--another favorite toy of the year. I like the way he chose the slightly off-center portrait.

And a hand-held video game, literally.

That's the end of the gallery showing. All works available for purchase.

The unexpected

We've gotten the routines of boy-raising down, I'd say, but it's those sudden unexpected things that keep getting me. The sudden hunger/exhaustion that can turn a reasonable child into a screaming brat, the poop in the pants that can happen anytime and anywhere because the three-year-old thinks the toilet seat is too cold, and then there's the scary stuff: the illnesses that turn serious just at the hour the doctor's office closes for the weekend, the accidents and daring games they like to play.

Two days ago, Owen was having a minor meltdown which I diagnosed as tiredness and had him lie down in my bed. Aldo and I were sitting in the livingroom when our next-door neighbor stopped by to talk about taking care of her aging stray cat. I jumped around the hedge to see where the cat slept, but had to come running back after I heard Owen's panic shrieks coming from our house. I ran in picturing blood, but found him still in bed, wrapped up inside my duvet cover. He had crawled in and couldn't find his way out.

I hope that's the scariest story I ever have to tell about this subject.

Pictures by Owen 2009

How does my child see me? An interesting and largely hypothetical question. Unless your kid gets a hold of your camera.

A little off -center? I guess that's accurate.

He sometimes looks down on his brother. (Look at those chubby cheeks and pouty little lips!)

Harriet at rest.

An interesting perspective.
_____________________________________________

At Starbucks, "Please pretty mommy can I take some pictures?"

Who can say no to this face?

Not me, obviously. Especially not when we're out on a Mommy-Owen date.

I edited out the ones of the light fixtures and window shades.

He gets a new camera from Santa in less than a week. It'll be interesting what comes out of that. Stay posted.

Things the kids have been saying

Aldo:

I want nothing.


I'm not sleepy.


I love my puppies.

I want the blue one because blue is my favorite color.

Look! Barack Obama!
Look! Palm tree!
Look! Cactus!
Look! American flag!
(there are more variations on this theme. It should be pointed out that pictures of Tiger Woods sometimes get claimed as Barack Obama.)


Owen:

I love you ...one hundred!!!!

I'm always tired and I always want to play.

When I grow up, I'm going to have 3 kids, 2 boys and 1 girl. Their names are Aldo, Yoda, and Amanda.

Sneaky strep

I took Owen in to the pediatrician today because the fever has not gone away--it's been 5 days and it's getting higher. I don't even know how high because I'm not sure if I can trust the thermometer, much like my car's speedometer. The doc and I came up with 103.4 at the office.

His lungs are clear (yay!) ears look good (yay!) so they did a throat culture just in case. I told the pediatrician that the blue fingernails were from the egg-dying and not a reason for concern. Well, it turns out they can have a strep infection without a sore throat. So, penicillin it is.

Tomorrow if he's sufficiently better, we're heading to the ball game to eat nachos and participate in American culture. Today he's going to sleep some more and watch DVD movies.

An autobiography in 5 chapters (it's short, really)

I saw this and really liked the simplicity and depth:

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
by Portia Nelson
I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault. It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place but, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

PS It doesn't really have anything to do with anything going on right now, so don't strain yourself guessing. I just saw it recently. Unless it would be low abdominal strength which really doesn't warrant poetry.

Dance music

Ah, the boys love dance music. They are both very good dancers and they'll tell you themselves. "I've got a lot of moves," says Owen. Their favorite music is "rock and roll" which is anything with a fast beat including hip hop. Owen is also working on his human beatbox technique. Maybe he'll be in a group called the Skinny Boys.

Their dad has started the custom of driving to school, parking in the lot, unbelting them and then turning up the rock and roll for them to dance in the car to. They love it and demand it when I take them to school too. This morning's rock and roll song was a club song that repeated "Another night out, another dance floor." Owen stood up on the back seat and spanked himself to the laser beats and Aldo looked around in the car seats for dropped snacks.

I can't think of another song that reflects my life less and now it's stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I am googling "silly putty how to remove from clothes," and roasting a chicken for dinner.

The boys also love to sing the song "Oh, hot damn. This is my jam. Keep the party into the A.M." I've tried to change the lyrics to "Eggs and ham, apricot jam. Eat your breakfast in the A.M." but it's not taking.