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.
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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.

Non-naptime conversations

Ah, the little ones are growing up so fast and are talking more and more. Owen and I have our best chats during our "rest times" which are not naps, but take place in my bed with our heads on pillows. Today he wanted to talk about "when he gets big," so we talked about how tall he was going to be (like Daddy) and how many dogs he wanted (8) and how many children (9) and what kind of person he would marry. He said that he wanted me to choose "his new mommy" which is what he calls his future wife. I'll have to remind him of that later. For now, I just told him that he would not find a new house or get married or have children until after college. Just trying to plant that seed in his brain now. He thought maybe he'd have all girls because we had all boys and my family was all girls. He's thinking some deep thoughts.

Aldo wakes up early and jumps out of his crib to toddle out to see what's available on the counters. And then he comes in to see if we're awake (we usually are but pretend to be asleep until the last minute.) I offered him an egg and pumpkin pie for breakfast (his stated favorite food) and he said, "That'd be cool." Funny little two-year-old.

That global warming thing

'Tis the week before Thanksgiving and it is still so hot here. Not just "unseasonably warm" but "record breaking heat" hot. It makes it hard to think holiday thoughts. I'm waiting for the eBay shipment of four footed pajamas that we need for the winter, but it's starting to seem like winter will never come. Like the Heat Miser has a grudge against us or we're living in the opposite of Narnia waiting for the White Witch to save us from the wildfires.

We've got the wading pool up in the backyard and the kids were playing with squirt guns today (or as non-weapons Mommy is trying to call them "water squirters." It is not catching on.)

I'm in the process of making the ever popular photo calendars, but there is a serious dearth of scenes autumnal or wintry.