He can count to 12. This afternoon he counted twelve steps down to the bottom of the stairs, but Matt says he counted to 12 last night.
I remember being small (maybe five?) and impatiently counting the seconds it would take for my mother to drive home. I distinctly remember being somewhere in the middle of the neighborhood, looking around and counting, "five hundred and three . . . five hundred and four . . . five hundred and five . . ."
Such pestering may come back to haunt me, perhaps starting now.
No matter, though. I'm too busy laughing.
Carmen is supposed to have been asleep for the past hour and a half. Instead she's playing on the bed and with my drawers, singing Humpty Dumpty ("dumpty dumpty wall. dumpty dumpty fall. again.") or Hickory Dickory Dock or something. At least she's making her own music. C&D think I'm a walking jukebox, and request their favorite hits often. For instance, if I'm singing something else and David wants to hear Itsy Bitsy Spider, he'll put his face directly into mine. "Piiiiiiiider. Piiiiiiiiiiider," he'll say until I sing the song about the spider that probably shouldn't have been climbing that water spout to begin with. Or if he's eating, and it's too quiet, he'll ask for his favorite, the Rainbow Song. "Rainbow Song," he say, looking at me as if I were a waitress and he was ordering coffee and a sandwich. In other words, I'm not supposed to say "no."
We close on the house today, so I might as well rescue her and get her ready to leave.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Holy Moly
David can count to seven. Holy moly. Yesterday he could do to six. He just woke up that way, counting flowers on a tortilla warmer. The day before he was counting bits of cranberry sauce on his plate, up to four. Holy moly. Where did he learn that?
Monday, November 20, 2006
Another man in a wig? and other news
Did you hear? The U.S. Mint has given up on the golden Sacagawea dollars first released in 2000. They haven't given up on the concept of a dollar coin, however. Instead, they're hoping that in 2007 we'll happily use their new dollar coins, decorated with pictures of dead presidents on them.
Give me a break!
Nothing against the presidents, but every other piece of U.S. currency already has a picture of a dead old man on it. The Sacagawea dollar, on the other hand, was special. It had a picture of the ultimate American supermom, a goodwill ambassador who spoke multiple languages and helped guide a caravan of nervous and awestruck men through unfamiliar territory, all while raising a little boy. The coin is the most beautiful and elegant piece of American currency I've even jingled in my pocket. And the image of mother and child is a heckuva lot more inspiring than a picture of (yet another) man in a wig. (Image courtesy Wikipedia.)
And in other news . . . we've mostly, but only mostly, settled in at the new place. All of my books and papers are still in boxes, but the den, kitchen, bedrooms, and bathrooms are in order. In addition to finishing out the living room, we've still got a long list of repairs, tweaks, and tightenings, so we think we know how we'll be spending the upcoming holiday weekends. C&D don't allow a lot of time for that kind of thing, however, preferring long stroller rides to the playgahround and visiting with all of our friendly new neighbors. This new state of chaos allows even less time for posting than I had hoped, but I'm hoping that if we can all sit tight, we'll be back on track by the end of the year.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Why Why Why?
The hardest part about moving has been explaining to people that I am perfectly aware I am moving my little toddler-children into a two-bedroom house with no yard and smack dab in the jumbled-up zoning-free center of the fourth largest city in the U.S.
Yes, two bedrooms. By modern housing standards, they are small; the master bedroom is 14'x17' and the second bedroom is about 10'x12'. If we really need to find more space we could always convert the garage, but that's not likely. What small bedrooms mean is that we can't buy large furniture or hoard a decade's worth of clothing in our closets. When we tell each other good night we won't have to yell from one wing of the house to the other. Isn't all that a good thing? Anyway, is a master suite, children's suite, and gameroom/loft the size of Belgium actually necessary? In fact, should we even pretend that the spacious McMansion of American dreams is a mainstream expectation when a significant fraction of this city's population will go to bed hungry tonight, with siblings, parents, and grandparents crammed into a dark one- or two-bedroom apartment? And are Carmen and David better off if they grow up assuming that they must have those American essentials--bedroom, television, bathroom--of their very own when one of the most common complaints of the 21st-century modern society is the family that has grown distant despite living under the same roof?
The other benefits of the neighborhood outweigh the fact that we'll have to share bathrooms and not all have bedrooms to entertain friends. (Instead, there's the living room with 18' of floor-to-ceiling windows, a breezy balcony, or funky private patio screaming for strings of Christmas lights and a DJ.) We'll be able to walk places, like school, the library, the grocery store. We'll have a diversity of friends and learning resources at our fingertips.
And parks. Lots of parks. When they are through worrying about the bedrooms, people worry about the fact that I have no yard at the new place. But I can't hide my delight. A 1/4 acre plot of St. Augustine grass is one of the most boring, understimulating, all-around awful constructions of the 20th century. "But where," people ask, "will the babies play?" Let me put it in writing that the neighborhood kids on Carvel, where we are moving from, rarely play in their backyards. Instead, they play on the street, making my car the end zone. Or they beg their parents to take them to the park, where they don't have to worry about kicking balls over fences, or breaking windows with softballs that weren't, after all, so soft. So what's the big deal about all that fenced-in grass, anyway? So when C&D need to climb and holler like monkeys, or run and dance like colts, we can walk to a park and meet some new monkey-friends, or drive out to the country where we can run past the pastures and sink our hands in the loose dirt the chickens scratched for us.
Underneath these arguments is a deeper sense of reasoning that I don't discuss much because some things are just too hard to talk about in polite company. But it's this: We're really doing an experiement, I guess, trying to live city-style in a so-called city that's really one big suburb. Call, it, maybe, "city lite." By walking more and driving less, relying on public spaces like parks rather than our own private ones, and living closer to several sources for local, organic, and/or sustainably-grown food, we'll be better able to live more consciously, and show C&D that there is a better way than living in Houston's newest housing development, shopping according to the advertisements at the Super-Duper MegaMart and spending a significant part of their lifespan on the freeway while their buttocks mold to the seat of the minivan. The new place will rely 100% on wind power for a source of energy, and some minor modifications should easily make the new house more energy-efficient. We hope that C&D will learn that by buying an existing house with no yard, we are preserving, someplace, 1/4 acre of parkland or pasture or Big Thicket forest or rich loamy cropland above a Brazos river bottom. We hope that when C&D look back at growing up in the funky grey house they'll proudly consider themselves a kind of urban pioneer, settling in the city to avoid the exurban landscape of concrete and TruGreen Chemlawns, and doing our part in the day-to-day to ultimately create more of what we really want: cleaner air, greener spaces, wilder places.
Yes, two bedrooms. By modern housing standards, they are small; the master bedroom is 14'x17' and the second bedroom is about 10'x12'. If we really need to find more space we could always convert the garage, but that's not likely. What small bedrooms mean is that we can't buy large furniture or hoard a decade's worth of clothing in our closets. When we tell each other good night we won't have to yell from one wing of the house to the other. Isn't all that a good thing? Anyway, is a master suite, children's suite, and gameroom/loft the size of Belgium actually necessary? In fact, should we even pretend that the spacious McMansion of American dreams is a mainstream expectation when a significant fraction of this city's population will go to bed hungry tonight, with siblings, parents, and grandparents crammed into a dark one- or two-bedroom apartment? And are Carmen and David better off if they grow up assuming that they must have those American essentials--bedroom, television, bathroom--of their very own when one of the most common complaints of the 21st-century modern society is the family that has grown distant despite living under the same roof?
The other benefits of the neighborhood outweigh the fact that we'll have to share bathrooms and not all have bedrooms to entertain friends. (Instead, there's the living room with 18' of floor-to-ceiling windows, a breezy balcony, or funky private patio screaming for strings of Christmas lights and a DJ.) We'll be able to walk places, like school, the library, the grocery store. We'll have a diversity of friends and learning resources at our fingertips.
And parks. Lots of parks. When they are through worrying about the bedrooms, people worry about the fact that I have no yard at the new place. But I can't hide my delight. A 1/4 acre plot of St. Augustine grass is one of the most boring, understimulating, all-around awful constructions of the 20th century. "But where," people ask, "will the babies play?" Let me put it in writing that the neighborhood kids on Carvel, where we are moving from, rarely play in their backyards. Instead, they play on the street, making my car the end zone. Or they beg their parents to take them to the park, where they don't have to worry about kicking balls over fences, or breaking windows with softballs that weren't, after all, so soft. So what's the big deal about all that fenced-in grass, anyway? So when C&D need to climb and holler like monkeys, or run and dance like colts, we can walk to a park and meet some new monkey-friends, or drive out to the country where we can run past the pastures and sink our hands in the loose dirt the chickens scratched for us.
Underneath these arguments is a deeper sense of reasoning that I don't discuss much because some things are just too hard to talk about in polite company. But it's this: We're really doing an experiement, I guess, trying to live city-style in a so-called city that's really one big suburb. Call, it, maybe, "city lite." By walking more and driving less, relying on public spaces like parks rather than our own private ones, and living closer to several sources for local, organic, and/or sustainably-grown food, we'll be better able to live more consciously, and show C&D that there is a better way than living in Houston's newest housing development, shopping according to the advertisements at the Super-Duper MegaMart and spending a significant part of their lifespan on the freeway while their buttocks mold to the seat of the minivan. The new place will rely 100% on wind power for a source of energy, and some minor modifications should easily make the new house more energy-efficient. We hope that C&D will learn that by buying an existing house with no yard, we are preserving, someplace, 1/4 acre of parkland or pasture or Big Thicket forest or rich loamy cropland above a Brazos river bottom. We hope that when C&D look back at growing up in the funky grey house they'll proudly consider themselves a kind of urban pioneer, settling in the city to avoid the exurban landscape of concrete and TruGreen Chemlawns, and doing our part in the day-to-day to ultimately create more of what we really want: cleaner air, greener spaces, wilder places.
To David and Carmen
Good Morning!!! "precious babies!!" I was thinking
about you this morning in music class with Dad and
Mommy with the movers. I was thinking about the
"Hokey Pokey" dance we learned on Saturday with me.
You learned it so well, you could probably show your
music teacher how to do the "Hokey Pokey". It was so
much fun being with you over the weekend; the singing,
the dancing, the reading, and the lunch, and picking
up toys so "we can eat" and "nack time" were all fun.
And before Grandpa and I left, we did one last "Hokey
Pokey" dance and then as we were leaving, David, you
made us laugh when you said to Grandpa, "Bye Pokey".
In fact, we laughed and played all the time. Grandpa
worked so hard on painting the new house, we wanted it
to be pretty.
I was thinking about your nap time today in the "new
house". Hope it went well.
Keep dancing and laughing.
Love you mucho,
Grama
about you this morning in music class with Dad and
Mommy with the movers. I was thinking about the
"Hokey Pokey" dance we learned on Saturday with me.
You learned it so well, you could probably show your
music teacher how to do the "Hokey Pokey". It was so
much fun being with you over the weekend; the singing,
the dancing, the reading, and the lunch, and picking
up toys so "we can eat" and "nack time" were all fun.
And before Grandpa and I left, we did one last "Hokey
Pokey" dance and then as we were leaving, David, you
made us laugh when you said to Grandpa, "Bye Pokey".
In fact, we laughed and played all the time. Grandpa
worked so hard on painting the new house, we wanted it
to be pretty.
I was thinking about your nap time today in the "new
house". Hope it went well.
Keep dancing and laughing.
Love you mucho,
Grama
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Moving Day
Tomorrow we move to the new house, newly painted and cleaned by my parents, and then babyproofed and carpeted my Matt (the floors are mostly quarry tile, painted concrete, and pine). And I got to play general contractor while my mom took a turn at baby-wrangling.
I'm going to miss our little house, the house that we bought because it was cheaper than rent and halfway between Sugar Land and Rice. I'm going to miss our neighbors, our breezy screened porch, and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees in our shady backyard. I'm going to miss my happy little spots of ruellia and Gulf Coast muhly, now cotton-candy pink, and my azaleas, and the little bluestem that rustled when the wind blew. I'm going to miss my red maple, the one that dropped its leaves at all the wrong times, and the American Holly that we bought at Teas Nursery last Christmas. I'm going to miss the massive (does Matt do anything small?) bird feeder that Matt built and placed outside my window so I could watch the birds (but mostly squirrels) while I studied, and the blue dining room that grown-ups hated but kids loved. I'm going to miss the hardwood floors Matt and I refinished ourselves, although I won't miss the squeaks.
With a slide and a bouncy layer of rubber mulch in the patio, a fresh coat of pretty green paint (Aloe Essence, the card said), and some friendly new rugs, the new place is already feeling like ours.
But I'm still a little bit sad. That's okay, I think.
Even though we've been so busy, C&D have had plenty of time to make us all laugh, laugh, laugh. Maybe if I work hard I can get some pictures and videos posted soon. They are the Cutest Babies in the World. (Say what you want about toddlers or kids, but C&D are babies. In fact, they'll be my babies until forever, maybe longer.)
DSL will go down later tonight; we should be back online by Tuesday or Wednesday, when I've found a place to put the 'puter and keyboard.
I'm going to miss our little house, the house that we bought because it was cheaper than rent and halfway between Sugar Land and Rice. I'm going to miss our neighbors, our breezy screened porch, and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees in our shady backyard. I'm going to miss my happy little spots of ruellia and Gulf Coast muhly, now cotton-candy pink, and my azaleas, and the little bluestem that rustled when the wind blew. I'm going to miss my red maple, the one that dropped its leaves at all the wrong times, and the American Holly that we bought at Teas Nursery last Christmas. I'm going to miss the massive (does Matt do anything small?) bird feeder that Matt built and placed outside my window so I could watch the birds (but mostly squirrels) while I studied, and the blue dining room that grown-ups hated but kids loved. I'm going to miss the hardwood floors Matt and I refinished ourselves, although I won't miss the squeaks.
With a slide and a bouncy layer of rubber mulch in the patio, a fresh coat of pretty green paint (Aloe Essence, the card said), and some friendly new rugs, the new place is already feeling like ours.
But I'm still a little bit sad. That's okay, I think.
Even though we've been so busy, C&D have had plenty of time to make us all laugh, laugh, laugh. Maybe if I work hard I can get some pictures and videos posted soon. They are the Cutest Babies in the World. (Say what you want about toddlers or kids, but C&D are babies. In fact, they'll be my babies until forever, maybe longer.)
DSL will go down later tonight; we should be back online by Tuesday or Wednesday, when I've found a place to put the 'puter and keyboard.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Distracted?
Packing, Big Thicket annual meeting tomorrow (Cong. Brady showing up, and lots of other people, besides), C&D have both battled colds and the resultant sleepless nights, I strained my back, and this week visited every store in the Galleria area to find the Perfect Shirt to wear with my Perfect suit. Oh, and, right, I had to buy shoes. (I didn't want to visit every store in the Gallera area to do this. I hate buying shoes. So instead of dealing with the usual shoe-shoe foo-foo, I drove to one store off Post Oak, explained what I needed, and just handed over my credit card. At least that one thing was relatively easy.)
So, with so much to do, I am probably a little distracted. It maybe shouldn't be suprising, then, for you to find out that today after finally finding the Perfect Shirt (and Perfect Choker and Perfect Earrings) I inhaled dinner and for dessert ate an entire Chinese fortune cookie. Yes, the entire cookie. I ate my fortune. Sometime mid-chew I realized that there was something, ah, particular in my mouth, and extracted a piece of partially-dissolved, entirely masticated paper. I tried to retrieve my fortune, but, alas, it was long gone.
So now I have to go back to Shanghai Joe's and get another cookie. Fine by me. I like fortune cookies, and I like Shanghai Joe's. And, anyway, the sushi chef said she missed the babies and wanted to see them. I'll pick up another cookie when we swing by, maybe as soon as next week.
So tomorrow we present to the community the report that I edited, and I also get to do my quarterly treasurerly things. Since C&D don't know how to attend a day-long meeting, they are staying home with Matt (who does know how to attend a day-long meeting; don''t want to imply he doesn't). Tomorrow night we'll all kick our shoes off, collapse in a heap, and swap stories.
Great pictures lately. I'll post them when I can.
So, with so much to do, I am probably a little distracted. It maybe shouldn't be suprising, then, for you to find out that today after finally finding the Perfect Shirt (and Perfect Choker and Perfect Earrings) I inhaled dinner and for dessert ate an entire Chinese fortune cookie. Yes, the entire cookie. I ate my fortune. Sometime mid-chew I realized that there was something, ah, particular in my mouth, and extracted a piece of partially-dissolved, entirely masticated paper. I tried to retrieve my fortune, but, alas, it was long gone.
So now I have to go back to Shanghai Joe's and get another cookie. Fine by me. I like fortune cookies, and I like Shanghai Joe's. And, anyway, the sushi chef said she missed the babies and wanted to see them. I'll pick up another cookie when we swing by, maybe as soon as next week.
So tomorrow we present to the community the report that I edited, and I also get to do my quarterly treasurerly things. Since C&D don't know how to attend a day-long meeting, they are staying home with Matt (who does know how to attend a day-long meeting; don''t want to imply he doesn't). Tomorrow night we'll all kick our shoes off, collapse in a heap, and swap stories.
Great pictures lately. I'll post them when I can.
Monday, October 09, 2006
A Mess by Any Other Name . . .
is not the same. Today, right before bed, David opened the hall closet and pulled out an old tube of Christmas wrapping paper. He unrolled it and the house quickly filled with the loud crinkle of paper while I cleaned up the last remnants of dinner. Within a few minutes I found C&D walking over the paper, by this time unrolled like a red carpet through the entire length of the kitchen. Crackle, crackle, four feet marched up and down on the paper. Carmen was saying something as she marched . . . and I eventually made it out to be "oh-de-brish," or, in English, "over the bridge." She was marching on a paper bridge. I didn't have the heart, especially after hearing that, to put the paper away so I left it out a little while longer.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Can't Resist
I'm supposed to be busy. I'm supposed to be listing the rest of my things on eBay, and checking on my Craigslist responses for the things I have posted there to sell. But I had to post here, first.
Yesterday someone came to pick up our deep freeze. You don't need a deep freeze when you take your babies to Whole Foods two-plus times per week because they like going there as much as the park. And if somebody cooed and oohed and gave you free cookies and fruit and juice everytime you went to the grocery store, wouldn't you be there just as often?
Carmen and David watched as our new friend backed his truck up to the garage, loaded the freezer, and then waved goodbye. Except that David didn't just wave goodbye,
he did this:
and this:
and this:
That's my boy!
Matt says that he does this all the time. I guess I've never noticed, because I'm generally on the other side of the door. Now I know why I have to clean that glass so often. I thought I was just cleaning handprints. But maybe now instead of cleaning it twice a week, I should clean it twice per day?
I also wonder who else has received such a lovely adieu. Perhaps I should attach a sign to the door, along with the "Shhh, knock quietly" sign. It would read something like, "We do not assume liability for any mistakes, misstatements, falsehood, or squashed, drooly faces in the statements, opinions, representations, and anything else from the little people in this house. Anything they say or do, especially if it is embarrassing, but not necessarily if it is brilliant, is neither endorsed by this family nor does it necessarily reflect our beliefs. Especially the embarrassing parts."
Yesterday someone came to pick up our deep freeze. You don't need a deep freeze when you take your babies to Whole Foods two-plus times per week because they like going there as much as the park. And if somebody cooed and oohed and gave you free cookies and fruit and juice everytime you went to the grocery store, wouldn't you be there just as often?
Carmen and David watched as our new friend backed his truck up to the garage, loaded the freezer, and then waved goodbye. Except that David didn't just wave goodbye,
he did this:
and this:
and this:
That's my boy!
Matt says that he does this all the time. I guess I've never noticed, because I'm generally on the other side of the door. Now I know why I have to clean that glass so often. I thought I was just cleaning handprints. But maybe now instead of cleaning it twice a week, I should clean it twice per day?
I also wonder who else has received such a lovely adieu. Perhaps I should attach a sign to the door, along with the "Shhh, knock quietly" sign. It would read something like, "We do not assume liability for any mistakes, misstatements, falsehood, or squashed, drooly faces in the statements, opinions, representations, and anything else from the little people in this house. Anything they say or do, especially if it is embarrassing, but not necessarily if it is brilliant, is neither endorsed by this family nor does it necessarily reflect our beliefs. Especially the embarrassing parts."
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Power to the People (In Charge)
I really like how now the American public can rely on the good ol' television set to teach their children everything they need to know. Now, in addition to the squeaky CTW franchises and the sugar-coated cartoons on Nickelodeon, we have a channel specifically geared to babies called BabyFirstTV. With 24/7 programming that changes every five minutes (yes, I said five minutes) that addresses everything from baby signs to counting to art, we can just place our progeny in front of the television set and watch those little geniuses get smarter by the minute. With an automatic breastmilk machine (because, after all, breastfed babies are smarter babies), we'd have a real Boob Tube! Let the baby "soothe itself" (i.e., cry its lungs out) to sleep and we needn't worry about the baby at all!
C&D probably watch three hours of television every week, on average, usually while I am trying to prepare dinner. I think it is too much. There is a wall between the kitchen and living room, however, so it's hard to watch them from the kitchen, and it's hard for them to resist wanting to be where they can see me (or be underfoot). I'm hoping that after moving into a house with an open floor plan I'll be able to cook a little more without relying on the DVD player. (Rachel, I will be in debt to you forever.) Regardless, setting Baby in front of a television is now almost a necessity, born out of our social and cultural givens: Mommy at home (alone) with baby, cooking dinner (alone) in her kitchen, (alone) in her suburban house, on a quiet (and lonely) suburban street. There is no safe place for baby to toddle off to, and no one to watch the baby, so we look for the remote and turn the television on, if it isn't already.
With pressures on mother and baby to be smarter, sweeter, and more savvy than ever before, it's no wonder that DirecTV is offering BabyFirstTV. But an infant-centered television channel reminds me just a little bit of 1984 (the book, not the year). I'm sure any similarities are lost on BabyFirstTV's target audience, but let's think about this. We're taking our most vulnerable minds and exposing them to messaging designed by individuals more concerned with serving themselves than each other: business people (oh, right, and the "education specialists" paid by those business people). In other words, our children are learning precisely the messages that someone thought would ultimately yield the most profit . . . and power. Hmm. Funny circumstance that to turn on the television, you press the button labeled "Power"?
C&D probably watch three hours of television every week, on average, usually while I am trying to prepare dinner. I think it is too much. There is a wall between the kitchen and living room, however, so it's hard to watch them from the kitchen, and it's hard for them to resist wanting to be where they can see me (or be underfoot). I'm hoping that after moving into a house with an open floor plan I'll be able to cook a little more without relying on the DVD player. (Rachel, I will be in debt to you forever.) Regardless, setting Baby in front of a television is now almost a necessity, born out of our social and cultural givens: Mommy at home (alone) with baby, cooking dinner (alone) in her kitchen, (alone) in her suburban house, on a quiet (and lonely) suburban street. There is no safe place for baby to toddle off to, and no one to watch the baby, so we look for the remote and turn the television on, if it isn't already.
With pressures on mother and baby to be smarter, sweeter, and more savvy than ever before, it's no wonder that DirecTV is offering BabyFirstTV. But an infant-centered television channel reminds me just a little bit of 1984 (the book, not the year). I'm sure any similarities are lost on BabyFirstTV's target audience, but let's think about this. We're taking our most vulnerable minds and exposing them to messaging designed by individuals more concerned with serving themselves than each other: business people (oh, right, and the "education specialists" paid by those business people). In other words, our children are learning precisely the messages that someone thought would ultimately yield the most profit . . . and power. Hmm. Funny circumstance that to turn on the television, you press the button labeled "Power"?
Monday, September 18, 2006
I Hear
Fiona, this one's for you:
Tonight, as Carmen snuggled up next to me and tried to fall asleep, she told herself one of her favorite stories. It's called I Hear; it's a board book and not much of a story book, but she likes it very much anyway. The night went like this:
Snuggle, roll, flip, flop, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . birt. Twee, twee, twee."
Kick, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . gog. Ruff, ruff, ruff!"
Kick, kick, asleep.
I have been working on a post for several days, but keep running out of time to finish it. The usual story, I guess.
I MUST be sleeping (that's a usual story too, isn't it?), but here's a couple tidbits for the grandmas:
1) A couple of weeks ago, Carmen invented a game called "I'm Asleep." David started playing the game a few days later. It goes like this: Baby puts head down on couch, bed, or other soft, cushy space. Baby is often tired, and is using this opportunity to rest a bit, but doesn't want yet to succomb to sleep. Baby signs sleep and says, "I sleep. Shhhhhh." Baby puts finger over lips and then pretends to sleep (usually eyes stay open, though). And then I nod my head and quietly put my own finger to my lips. Shhhh. Then the baby sits up quickly, signs awake, and says, "I wake!" To play this game properly, repeat sequence at least 29 times, and always remember to think it's funny.
2) Today was the second day of music class, which C&D like very very very much. Carmen sits in my lap and says and signs "More sing!" whenever the group stops singing. David walks around and flirts with everyone sitting in the circle, smiling and nodding and running back to me when they get too close. Seeing all the other children, mostly aged two through four, is the absolute highlight of their week. Today, just before I loaded C&D into the car, I told them we were going to school. C&D know the signs for school and pay attention, and usually follow up saying and signing school with signing "paytenshun!" Anyway, after hearing "school" they ran to the front door, reaching to the handle to get out to the car. When I buckled Carmen into her seat, though, she started to cry. "Potty." Oh, oh. So I took her back in. "Gool," she said, and I pulled up her pants and took her back out. "Potty," she said as soon as she sat in her carseat. Oh, man. Pants down. "Nooooooo! Gooooool!" Okay. Pants up. Back in car. "Potty!" Breathe. David started to whimper. "Potty." Oh, no. So I brought them back inside. They cried, of course, because they wanted to go to school. So I made a mental note to bring some extra diaper wipes, just in case, and marched out. I began to wonder how many years I had before me of being late due to potty problems ("are you sure you don't have to go?"). Then I figured that once they understood their bladders, they'd be at the perfect age for losing things, like backpacks, glasses, shoes, homework, and permission slips for the day's field trip. I realize now how much fortitude my mother really did have, gathering me and my brother to drive across town in stop-and-go rush-hour traffic to the good schools, our eyes sleepy and our stomachs nervous because yes, once again, we were running late. I decided next week we would aim to leave at eight o'clock for our nine o'clock class, just in case. We did eventually make it there only 30 minutes late, just in time for a handful of songs and the opportunity to tell everyone not only hello, but goodbye. And C&D were very happy to see their potties when we got home.
Tonight, as Carmen snuggled up next to me and tried to fall asleep, she told herself one of her favorite stories. It's called I Hear; it's a board book and not much of a story book, but she likes it very much anyway. The night went like this:
Snuggle, roll, flip, flop, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . birt. Twee, twee, twee."
Kick, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . gog. Ruff, ruff, ruff!"
Kick, kick, asleep.
I have been working on a post for several days, but keep running out of time to finish it. The usual story, I guess.
I MUST be sleeping (that's a usual story too, isn't it?), but here's a couple tidbits for the grandmas:
1) A couple of weeks ago, Carmen invented a game called "I'm Asleep." David started playing the game a few days later. It goes like this: Baby puts head down on couch, bed, or other soft, cushy space. Baby is often tired, and is using this opportunity to rest a bit, but doesn't want yet to succomb to sleep. Baby signs sleep and says, "I sleep. Shhhhhh." Baby puts finger over lips and then pretends to sleep (usually eyes stay open, though). And then I nod my head and quietly put my own finger to my lips. Shhhh. Then the baby sits up quickly, signs awake, and says, "I wake!" To play this game properly, repeat sequence at least 29 times, and always remember to think it's funny.
2) Today was the second day of music class, which C&D like very very very much. Carmen sits in my lap and says and signs "More sing!" whenever the group stops singing. David walks around and flirts with everyone sitting in the circle, smiling and nodding and running back to me when they get too close. Seeing all the other children, mostly aged two through four, is the absolute highlight of their week. Today, just before I loaded C&D into the car, I told them we were going to school. C&D know the signs for school and pay attention, and usually follow up saying and signing school with signing "paytenshun!" Anyway, after hearing "school" they ran to the front door, reaching to the handle to get out to the car. When I buckled Carmen into her seat, though, she started to cry. "Potty." Oh, oh. So I took her back in. "Gool," she said, and I pulled up her pants and took her back out. "Potty," she said as soon as she sat in her carseat. Oh, man. Pants down. "Nooooooo! Gooooool!" Okay. Pants up. Back in car. "Potty!" Breathe. David started to whimper. "Potty." Oh, no. So I brought them back inside. They cried, of course, because they wanted to go to school. So I made a mental note to bring some extra diaper wipes, just in case, and marched out. I began to wonder how many years I had before me of being late due to potty problems ("are you sure you don't have to go?"). Then I figured that once they understood their bladders, they'd be at the perfect age for losing things, like backpacks, glasses, shoes, homework, and permission slips for the day's field trip. I realize now how much fortitude my mother really did have, gathering me and my brother to drive across town in stop-and-go rush-hour traffic to the good schools, our eyes sleepy and our stomachs nervous because yes, once again, we were running late. I decided next week we would aim to leave at eight o'clock for our nine o'clock class, just in case. We did eventually make it there only 30 minutes late, just in time for a handful of songs and the opportunity to tell everyone not only hello, but goodbye. And C&D were very happy to see their potties when we got home.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
What DO I say?
Life BB (Before Babies) was in a lot of ways very different.
For instance, we could leave the house on a moment's notice. We could stay up past bedtime on a school night (well, I could, Matt couldn't). We didn't need to plan our day around an afternoon nap. We didn't need to restrict eating out to outdoor restaurants with concrete floors.
Now, it takes us a little longer to get out the door. Sometimes we never even make it. The house is dark (except for the computer monitor) by eight o'clock. The house is quiet every afternoon for Baby Siesta. And right now I'm craving squid, saag paneer, and an assortment of other foods not available at the local kidproof eateries.
The hardest thing, however, is this: BB, I was recognized as an an expert in my professional field, and in my personal life. People assumed I knew what I was doing. Now, as I mosey around town with my two little people, I am suddenly in dire need of advice. C&D need cribs, spankings, and American cheese. I need to participate in lots of MNO's (Mothers' Night Out, for the uninitiated) and put on a little makeup for my husband. I listen politely, then smile and nod, and my acting skills improve daily.
The other part of the baby routine is Mommy Talk. You know, the kind of talk that strangers do when they are looking for polite conversation, and rather than ask about work, politics, or the weather, they ask about poop, sleep, and Gerber carrots. Sometimes the conversations go like this:
How are they sleeping?
David still wakes up at night.
Do they sleep in the same crib?
No, actually, one sleeps with me in one room and the other with my husband. Everybody gets more sleep that way.
Oh, well, at least they're not in your bed!
Heh, heh . . .
And then today, it wound up like this:
I put my baby's bedroom as far from my bedroom as possible. I don't want to have to hear her when she wakes up.
I looked at the baby, who was dangling bored and uncomfortable from a baby swing while her mother talked and gave the swing an occasional push. The woman hadn't given me advice, but her easy confidence suggested that she expected I would agree with and even appreciate her nifty nighttime trick. No way would Baby's cries and whimpers interfere with Mommy's busy schedule. I smiled and nodded in a neighborly way, then changed the subject. Thinking about the conversation later, I wondered why some people think it's right to demand convenience--and compliance--from a person who can't even yet talk in a full sentence. I also wondered why I didn't say anything in response. Somehow, it's okay for someone to proudly admit--to a stranger, no less--to ignoring their baby, but I could only just smile and nod, afraid of inviting any criticism if I dared to disagree.
Would I say anything next time? Probably not. Walking through big-box baby retailers and looking at the wide assortment of baby bouncers, cribs, playpens, baby monitors, sleep-through-the-night books, and Baby Einstein videos suggests that the Ideal Child is a convenient child, and the Ideal Mother makes sure her child is convenient. I already feel like I'm swimming upstream and against the current; why swim even harder? I'm too tired as it is.
At the same time, I don't self-sacrificially throw myself on the ground and let C&D walk all over me (and not just because Carmen likes to stand and bounce on my bladder). The other Mommy talk I hear too often is:
Don't forget to make time for yourself.
Yes, I want to say, and you are currently infringing on it. But really, since you haven't even bothered to ask me, what do you think I do all week? Play Pat-a-Cake and dolls? Why do people assume that I now include "parent" in the list of Things I Am, my life has become slow and in need of stimulation? Do I LOOK boring? Or do you think my life is brimful of nervewracking baby-induced chaos and I need to run out of my house screaming every Thursday for Happy Hour? If I wore the socialist feminist book that I read last week on my head, would you not tell me to make time for myself? Hey, look, it's 12am, I'm making time for myself! In fact, if you weren't so low on my list of priorities, I could provide you with a portfolio of all of the paid work, volunteer projects, and personal projects I've undertaken since January 2005. But it's going to take me a while because I'm busy with other, more important, things, so let me pencil it into my calendar and tell you to expect to see it, oh, gee, never? And, lastly, if you're confused because I have to adhere to the Baby Clock, won't on a whim go out to lunch at 2 o'clock, get my nails done on a Saturday (ew, sorry, that wasn't my thing even BB), or stay out late with you on a random weekday, well, I don't know what to say, really.
What DO I say?
For instance, we could leave the house on a moment's notice. We could stay up past bedtime on a school night (well, I could, Matt couldn't). We didn't need to plan our day around an afternoon nap. We didn't need to restrict eating out to outdoor restaurants with concrete floors.
Now, it takes us a little longer to get out the door. Sometimes we never even make it. The house is dark (except for the computer monitor) by eight o'clock. The house is quiet every afternoon for Baby Siesta. And right now I'm craving squid, saag paneer, and an assortment of other foods not available at the local kidproof eateries.
The hardest thing, however, is this: BB, I was recognized as an an expert in my professional field, and in my personal life. People assumed I knew what I was doing. Now, as I mosey around town with my two little people, I am suddenly in dire need of advice. C&D need cribs, spankings, and American cheese. I need to participate in lots of MNO's (Mothers' Night Out, for the uninitiated) and put on a little makeup for my husband. I listen politely, then smile and nod, and my acting skills improve daily.
The other part of the baby routine is Mommy Talk. You know, the kind of talk that strangers do when they are looking for polite conversation, and rather than ask about work, politics, or the weather, they ask about poop, sleep, and Gerber carrots. Sometimes the conversations go like this:
How are they sleeping?
David still wakes up at night.
Do they sleep in the same crib?
No, actually, one sleeps with me in one room and the other with my husband. Everybody gets more sleep that way.
Oh, well, at least they're not in your bed!
Heh, heh . . .
And then today, it wound up like this:
I put my baby's bedroom as far from my bedroom as possible. I don't want to have to hear her when she wakes up.
I looked at the baby, who was dangling bored and uncomfortable from a baby swing while her mother talked and gave the swing an occasional push. The woman hadn't given me advice, but her easy confidence suggested that she expected I would agree with and even appreciate her nifty nighttime trick. No way would Baby's cries and whimpers interfere with Mommy's busy schedule. I smiled and nodded in a neighborly way, then changed the subject. Thinking about the conversation later, I wondered why some people think it's right to demand convenience--and compliance--from a person who can't even yet talk in a full sentence. I also wondered why I didn't say anything in response. Somehow, it's okay for someone to proudly admit--to a stranger, no less--to ignoring their baby, but I could only just smile and nod, afraid of inviting any criticism if I dared to disagree.
Would I say anything next time? Probably not. Walking through big-box baby retailers and looking at the wide assortment of baby bouncers, cribs, playpens, baby monitors, sleep-through-the-night books, and Baby Einstein videos suggests that the Ideal Child is a convenient child, and the Ideal Mother makes sure her child is convenient. I already feel like I'm swimming upstream and against the current; why swim even harder? I'm too tired as it is.
At the same time, I don't self-sacrificially throw myself on the ground and let C&D walk all over me (and not just because Carmen likes to stand and bounce on my bladder). The other Mommy talk I hear too often is:
Don't forget to make time for yourself.
Yes, I want to say, and you are currently infringing on it. But really, since you haven't even bothered to ask me, what do you think I do all week? Play Pat-a-Cake and dolls? Why do people assume that I now include "parent" in the list of Things I Am, my life has become slow and in need of stimulation? Do I LOOK boring? Or do you think my life is brimful of nervewracking baby-induced chaos and I need to run out of my house screaming every Thursday for Happy Hour? If I wore the socialist feminist book that I read last week on my head, would you not tell me to make time for myself? Hey, look, it's 12am, I'm making time for myself! In fact, if you weren't so low on my list of priorities, I could provide you with a portfolio of all of the paid work, volunteer projects, and personal projects I've undertaken since January 2005. But it's going to take me a while because I'm busy with other, more important, things, so let me pencil it into my calendar and tell you to expect to see it, oh, gee, never? And, lastly, if you're confused because I have to adhere to the Baby Clock, won't on a whim go out to lunch at 2 o'clock, get my nails done on a Saturday (ew, sorry, that wasn't my thing even BB), or stay out late with you on a random weekday, well, I don't know what to say, really.
What DO I say?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
I did have a camera for:
I did have a camera yesterday when two of the neighborhood kids dug through my recycle bins and fashioned themselves armor in order to battle with each other, and also fight against a younger sibling's 3-foot long plastic alligator. After I made peace with the fact that they were digging through my trash, my mom (here this week), Matt, and I all laughed and laughed as we watched them from our front windows. This was even funnier than the time they tried to plant an egg in my grass. David stood at the living room window, watching with what seemed to have been absolute adoration. "Hat," we would occassionally say and sign to us, and then go back to watching them swing at each other with sticks.
Then this morning, after a trip to the dry cleaner's, David fell asleep in the car. That's not a cigar, it's a pretzel rod. At least the pretzel rod was easier to extract than the slimy half-chewed mango slices he often falls asleep with.
Wish I Had a Camera
Had two back-to-back showings for the house this evening. The first was during dinner, when we took the babes to the Galleria. Carmen called it the "'ria." There isn't a word she doesn't try to say. Having her around is like having a pet parrot.
We had already been to the Galleria this morning, but they didn't mind going again. This morning the cosmetics counter staff at Neiman Marcus gave Carmen her own little NM bag with a sample of Guerlain's new fragrance, Insolence. "Girl!" Carmen said and signed when she looked at the folded card holding the eau de toilete, and then proceeded to play with the card and perfume for the next several minutes. The staff twirled Carmen's hair and wiped David's nose with a Bobbi Brown tissue when he cried (because Carmen cried, and she cried because she wanted to walk around and touch everything on the display shelves). I couldn't believe it. I have walked through Neiman Marcus (usually on the way to and from getting my hair cut) at least 300 times and I have never been presented with a sample of perfume, and I have maybe been spritzed only once. Ever.
We spent the first part of this evening playing and then eating dinner in the Macy's wing. No samples from Macy's, although we did have a delicious dinner, and Carmen got to show Matt that she knows how to say and sign octupus and fire truck (sign and say firefighter, say truck, and then most importantly, wail like a siren).
David has been feeling like a Velcro-baby lately, always wanting to be stuck to Mama unless we're out of the house and he's too distracted to miss me very much. He had no symptoms of Velcro-ness at all this evening during the second showing of the house, when he climbed the ten-foot big-kid swirly slide at the school playground and slid back down, fast and slippery like the Olympic luge. I wished I had a camera to capture that ear-to-ear, blissfully happy smile. I'll have to make sure he can slide again.
Carmen was partner-dancing with my mother this afternoon and David can do all the movements to Itsy Bitsy Spider. It's time to start pushing our Wee Folklorico project along. We talk to someone this month.
We had already been to the Galleria this morning, but they didn't mind going again. This morning the cosmetics counter staff at Neiman Marcus gave Carmen her own little NM bag with a sample of Guerlain's new fragrance, Insolence. "Girl!" Carmen said and signed when she looked at the folded card holding the eau de toilete, and then proceeded to play with the card and perfume for the next several minutes. The staff twirled Carmen's hair and wiped David's nose with a Bobbi Brown tissue when he cried (because Carmen cried, and she cried because she wanted to walk around and touch everything on the display shelves). I couldn't believe it. I have walked through Neiman Marcus (usually on the way to and from getting my hair cut) at least 300 times and I have never been presented with a sample of perfume, and I have maybe been spritzed only once. Ever.
We spent the first part of this evening playing and then eating dinner in the Macy's wing. No samples from Macy's, although we did have a delicious dinner, and Carmen got to show Matt that she knows how to say and sign octupus and fire truck (sign and say firefighter, say truck, and then most importantly, wail like a siren).
David has been feeling like a Velcro-baby lately, always wanting to be stuck to Mama unless we're out of the house and he's too distracted to miss me very much. He had no symptoms of Velcro-ness at all this evening during the second showing of the house, when he climbed the ten-foot big-kid swirly slide at the school playground and slid back down, fast and slippery like the Olympic luge. I wished I had a camera to capture that ear-to-ear, blissfully happy smile. I'll have to make sure he can slide again.
Carmen was partner-dancing with my mother this afternoon and David can do all the movements to Itsy Bitsy Spider. It's time to start pushing our Wee Folklorico project along. We talk to someone this month.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Memory Card is Full
The memory card is full. Time to post some pictures while I achive and store some of the more memorable moments lately. Today's memorable moment? David lifting his shirt and adhering bee stickers to his little tummy-tum-tum, fixing his shirt back down, and then lifting it again to apply more stickers. Funny little kid.
Sorry so many of these pictures are blurry. I either need a faster camera, or slower babies.
Playing at the school the day after a rain, a few weeks ago:
I forget that C&D can reach just about anything on the kitchen table or counter, now. I had cherry babies, cherry walls, and a cherry Learning Tower in the time it took to go to the car and bring in two bags of groceries. That would have been, what, 30 seconds, maybe?
David wearing some of his favorite bling. He wears it proudly whenever he comes across it in his toy basket.
Playing in the dirt at the George Ranch. The chickens keep it nice and loose.
Carmen at the George Ranch, wearing one of the few hats she'll wear without complaining.
Playing in my Dad's F-150:
Playing with the clown noses we got from the library for reading our books. The trick is to squeeze the nose and say, "Honk!"
One of the reasons why the glider is now in the bedroom:
The reason God invented daddies:
Just a little dizzy:
David's turn:
Keys!
Playing in my dad's truck:
Sorry so many of these pictures are blurry. I either need a faster camera, or slower babies.
Playing at the school the day after a rain, a few weeks ago:
I forget that C&D can reach just about anything on the kitchen table or counter, now. I had cherry babies, cherry walls, and a cherry Learning Tower in the time it took to go to the car and bring in two bags of groceries. That would have been, what, 30 seconds, maybe?
David wearing some of his favorite bling. He wears it proudly whenever he comes across it in his toy basket.
Playing in the dirt at the George Ranch. The chickens keep it nice and loose.
Carmen at the George Ranch, wearing one of the few hats she'll wear without complaining.
Playing in my Dad's F-150:
Playing with the clown noses we got from the library for reading our books. The trick is to squeeze the nose and say, "Honk!"
One of the reasons why the glider is now in the bedroom:
The reason God invented daddies:
Just a little dizzy:
David's turn:
Keys!
Playing in my dad's truck:
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Packing Story
Matt, boxing things up: "This is the house where we really figured out who we are. We went from building an entertainment center [that could hold a 27" TV] to trying to get rid of it [who needs TV?]."
Matt thinks the entertainment center would make a terrific wardrobe.
Matt thinks the entertainment center would make a terrific wardrobe.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Dear Babies
Dear Babies,
Today we gave the realtor a big fat check to serve as earnest money on a new house. Your new house will have one fewer bedroom (2) than this current house, and no yard to speak of. This, by American standards, is a Very Uncommon Thing to do. In fact, some people might think we are outright crazy.
So, in order to better articulate why we are moving to such a house while also explaining to our family and friends that we really think we aren't crazy (mostly), your dad wrote a white paper. This is the way it goes:
Matt's White Paper
Whenever Microsoft does something that they thing is really brilliant, but everyone else thinks is less bright, they issue a “White Paper” to try to explain why they did what they did (as if they use a different color paper for everything else)
Today we gave the realtor a big fat check to serve as earnest money on a new house. Your new house will have one fewer bedroom (2) than this current house, and no yard to speak of. This, by American standards, is a Very Uncommon Thing to do. In fact, some people might think we are outright crazy.
So, in order to better articulate why we are moving to such a house while also explaining to our family and friends that we really think we aren't crazy (mostly), your dad wrote a white paper. This is the way it goes:
Matt's White Paper
Whenever Microsoft does something that they thing is really brilliant, but everyone else thinks is less bright, they issue a “White Paper” to try to explain why they did what they did (as if they use a different color paper for everything else)
So consider this a white paper on why we are thinking of living in a house that’s built like a cruise ship.
But they’re becoming more social, and our little corner of the city is becoming kind of small for the babies. Almost every day they want to go for a ride in the car – to the store, to a park with better playground equipment, more playmates, and less mosquitoes than our fenced backyard, to a music class, to feed the ducks. In our little corner of the neighborhood, most people are really happy to have just enough financial resources to have a little apartment or little house, and there’s not enough additional money flowing around to support amenities in the way of classes, nice parks, preschool, and even nicer grocery stores.
All of these things are back in town, and so looking forward, we see ourselves doing lots and lots and lots of driving. And with the odds of Joyce finding work outside of the central city pretty low, she’ll be driving into town to work, too.
So we figure, let’s move into town. Seems simple so far.
And off to School We Go
As in the rest of this country, segregation is alive and well in
The school that the C&D attend will go a long way towards shaping what they see is “normal”. If all of their friends get taken to school by the live-in nanny and picked up by mom in her Jaguar, then that will seem normal. But we’d like them to have a broader perspective on the world than what they see at the high-end section of the Galleria.
The fourth neighborhood school is in a more urban neighborhood, but it draws from a true cross-section of the city. Multi-million dollar homes sit a half mile away from subsidized housing projects. The school does well because of a high level of parent involvement, and it has programs (like art, music, PE) which most public elementary schools in
In the same neighborhood is a public Montessori elementary school which is just getting started. Some parents like it, and some don’t – but because it is just starting it’ll be tough to understand its level of quality for a few years. It is a magnet school, and seems like you can transfer to it fairly easily regardless of where you live – but it’ll be nice to be close to school in any case. The city’s magnet school for gifted and talented kids is close by, too.
There are lots of different types of housing in that area, known locally as Montrose. Apartments, duplexes, townhomes, and single-family homes with yards sit literally right next to each other. There’s no zoning, which can be both a bad and a beautiful thing. The population is full of people who can probably be best described as liberal types – college students, young professionals, artists, musicians, and families. Our vegetable co-op is nearby, and you can walk to the city’s flagship Whole Foods. Montrose is as close as
Your housing options in Montrose are basically:
1) A house with a big yard, built in about 1920. Beautiful old houses, and within our price range with a bit of a stretch.
2) A townhouse built in the last 5-7 years (
3) A few (very few) townhomes built in the late 1970’s-early 1980’s, when
Kids = Yard!
If Mom stays home with the kids, a suburban yard can be a beautiful thing. The kids come home from school at
But what if Mom is working, too? It’s next to impossible to find a job that doesn’t run from 8-5. So the kids are in an after-school program of some sort, where they can play on really nice playground equipment, or learn art and music, or whatever. And once everyone gets home at 5 or
Lots of kids grow up in the city without a yard, and lots of parents raise those kids without a yard, and they all seem to come out OK. We’re not adamantly against having one (although in all respects a small or no yard is ultimately more sustainable than everyone living on a ¼ acre of grass), but we just can’t see ourselves using it much, or paying a huge premium on a place to live just to have one. A yard has some investment value, but so do lots of other things, so that’s not really reason to have a yard, either. Some outside space is a useful thing –space to grow a few plants or play in a little swimming pool or whatever. We use that type of space in our screen porch all the time and can’t see giving it up. But the townhouse—we refer to it as The Ship around here—has that space in an 18’x18’ patio, and a breezy balcony off the kitchen, as well. If you throw a big party, the yard is useful for that day, on the three days of the year when everyone is willing to stand around outside (remember, this is
Lastly, the very lack of yards, or the very small yards in this area, is precisely why it has so many walkable amenities—the place is dense. The Ship is roughly ½ mile to Whole Foods, ½ mile to Fiesta, ½ mile to Poe Elementary, ½ mile to
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Oops.
Today is apparently August 26th.
I guess that means C&D turned 19 months three days ago. Oops. I had completely forgotten.
No surprise, though. We've been busy.
I know, there isn't a time when we're not busy. I never post and say, "Well, it's been pretty boring around here!" But lately, really, we've been busy.
First of all, C&D keep us on our toes. Well, okay, maybe not on our toes. More like, on our feet. Off to the park, off to rock horses, off to bounce balls, to sing, to dance, to stop everything and run to the potty so they can do their business, get up, and turn around, while sticking their index finger perilously close to the product of their bowels and bladder tell anyone within earshot, "pee-pee!" or "poo-poo!" Or, Carmen's favorite, "Did it!"
And then this weekend we began the process of buying a new house. We knew that at some point we would want the babes to be closer to a good school, my work, and the places we visit most. After a possible opportunity to leave Houston fell through, we decided to buckle down and commit to living here. After some casual browsing we realized that the areas we most like (and that are also convenient to Matt's work) are rapidly growing out of our price range, so we began to look more seriously. We knew that once a liveable, lower-priced property emerged on the market, we would need to pounce on it. And then, just as soon as we started looking, we found it. It's a sunny mod townhouse designed by William Stern. There are only two bedrooms, but the master bedroom is big enough that when C&D are ready for their own sleeping space we can creatively split it. The living area upstairs--we call it "the deck" as if the house were a ship--is bright and sunny, with large windows and an open kitchen, living, and dining room. The babes will have a large 18'x18' patio downstairs and a breezy patio off the kitchen upstairs to enjoy, and we will be within walking distance of several great parks. We will also be close to grocery stores (including Whole Foods), schools, and interesting public spaces like the Menil Collection. We're sad at the thought of leaving our neighbors and our little house, but have always known that sooner or later, we'd have to move on, and I guess this is pretty much it.
C&D caught colds this week and Carmen's nose is stuffy. I'm going to help her get back to sleep.
I guess that means C&D turned 19 months three days ago. Oops. I had completely forgotten.
No surprise, though. We've been busy.
I know, there isn't a time when we're not busy. I never post and say, "Well, it's been pretty boring around here!" But lately, really, we've been busy.
First of all, C&D keep us on our toes. Well, okay, maybe not on our toes. More like, on our feet. Off to the park, off to rock horses, off to bounce balls, to sing, to dance, to stop everything and run to the potty so they can do their business, get up, and turn around, while sticking their index finger perilously close to the product of their bowels and bladder tell anyone within earshot, "pee-pee!" or "poo-poo!" Or, Carmen's favorite, "Did it!"
And then this weekend we began the process of buying a new house. We knew that at some point we would want the babes to be closer to a good school, my work, and the places we visit most. After a possible opportunity to leave Houston fell through, we decided to buckle down and commit to living here. After some casual browsing we realized that the areas we most like (and that are also convenient to Matt's work) are rapidly growing out of our price range, so we began to look more seriously. We knew that once a liveable, lower-priced property emerged on the market, we would need to pounce on it. And then, just as soon as we started looking, we found it. It's a sunny mod townhouse designed by William Stern. There are only two bedrooms, but the master bedroom is big enough that when C&D are ready for their own sleeping space we can creatively split it. The living area upstairs--we call it "the deck" as if the house were a ship--is bright and sunny, with large windows and an open kitchen, living, and dining room. The babes will have a large 18'x18' patio downstairs and a breezy patio off the kitchen upstairs to enjoy, and we will be within walking distance of several great parks. We will also be close to grocery stores (including Whole Foods), schools, and interesting public spaces like the Menil Collection. We're sad at the thought of leaving our neighbors and our little house, but have always known that sooner or later, we'd have to move on, and I guess this is pretty much it.
C&D caught colds this week and Carmen's nose is stuffy. I'm going to help her get back to sleep.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Forgotten
I have almost forgotten there was a time (like, say, last week) when they couldn't talk. Now, they can both say and sign so many things. We have conversations, we follow directions, we dance with our dolls and feed the stuffed horses hay. We follow each other around and imitate each other like a household of parrots.
We say and sign when we are hungry and when we are thirsty, we make jokes (Carmen with a dolly in her arms: "Wa! Wa!" Me: "Carmen, is the dolly hungry?" Carmen drops the dolly on the floor and guffaws.). They ask for their shoes when they want to go outside or walk around when we are out, and they ask for a ride in the car when they are bored. They ask me to sing, and sing, and sing, and we move our hands together to the music. When we are singing along to the songs on the radio they clap at the end of the songs. When Carmen hears the One Fine Day soundtrack, she demands to dance with her crab puppet, while David dances with a penguin. After dinner she runs around with her hand in an oven mitt, calling it a duck. David runs around with the broom after our meals, reminding me that I should sweep the floor. We are not afraid of thunder. Well, not too afraid. Carmen can identify red, and sign most of the colors of the rainbow (and she can sign "waymbo," too) while she draws oblong "sow-kows" on the back of the diagrams from Matt's work. When he comes home, C&D run to the door saying "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" while Carmen will sometimes look at me and say in a small, clear voice, "Mahm-ee."
And yesterday David looked at me and tried to say and sign I Love You.
In the midst of all her growing and changing, Carmen's sleep has become even more fitful. Sometimes she gives up sleeping on her own altogether, like when at four in the morning two days ago I found her straddled across the small of my back, bouncing up and down. When I called her name she responded "diapuw" and after a quick potty and change, I rocked her to sleep while pretending to be interested in the early, early news shows. She craves the opportunity to rest her head in my elbow, my arm straining to hold her sprawling body toward me, as if at night she suddenly remembers she is small and young and afraid and needs the physical reassurance and comfort that she hadn't wanted all day. David, on the other hand, wakes from his naps early so that he can finish them in my lap while my arm goes numb and I stare out the window. So, in case I had forgotten what it was like, I feel like they are the restless sleepers of a year ago.
When babies are born, some things are forgotten. Excited relatives forget their manners, demanding "How are the babies?" on the telephone before a proper howdy-do. Parents forget when they have eaten or slept or showered, keeping track only of their babies' needs and habits. And when Matt's mother sent pictures of her visit to Houston to the family this week, she titled it, "Our Trip to Houston to Visit Twins Carmen and David." Matt and Joyce? Oh, yeah, they live there, too. But we all know the real purpose of the visit.
It is midnight and I have forgotten to go to bed. I probably should. Good night.
We say and sign when we are hungry and when we are thirsty, we make jokes (Carmen with a dolly in her arms: "Wa! Wa!" Me: "Carmen, is the dolly hungry?" Carmen drops the dolly on the floor and guffaws.). They ask for their shoes when they want to go outside or walk around when we are out, and they ask for a ride in the car when they are bored. They ask me to sing, and sing, and sing, and we move our hands together to the music. When we are singing along to the songs on the radio they clap at the end of the songs. When Carmen hears the One Fine Day soundtrack, she demands to dance with her crab puppet, while David dances with a penguin. After dinner she runs around with her hand in an oven mitt, calling it a duck. David runs around with the broom after our meals, reminding me that I should sweep the floor. We are not afraid of thunder. Well, not too afraid. Carmen can identify red, and sign most of the colors of the rainbow (and she can sign "waymbo," too) while she draws oblong "sow-kows" on the back of the diagrams from Matt's work. When he comes home, C&D run to the door saying "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" while Carmen will sometimes look at me and say in a small, clear voice, "Mahm-ee."
And yesterday David looked at me and tried to say and sign I Love You.
In the midst of all her growing and changing, Carmen's sleep has become even more fitful. Sometimes she gives up sleeping on her own altogether, like when at four in the morning two days ago I found her straddled across the small of my back, bouncing up and down. When I called her name she responded "diapuw" and after a quick potty and change, I rocked her to sleep while pretending to be interested in the early, early news shows. She craves the opportunity to rest her head in my elbow, my arm straining to hold her sprawling body toward me, as if at night she suddenly remembers she is small and young and afraid and needs the physical reassurance and comfort that she hadn't wanted all day. David, on the other hand, wakes from his naps early so that he can finish them in my lap while my arm goes numb and I stare out the window. So, in case I had forgotten what it was like, I feel like they are the restless sleepers of a year ago.
When babies are born, some things are forgotten. Excited relatives forget their manners, demanding "How are the babies?" on the telephone before a proper howdy-do. Parents forget when they have eaten or slept or showered, keeping track only of their babies' needs and habits. And when Matt's mother sent pictures of her visit to Houston to the family this week, she titled it, "Our Trip to Houston to Visit Twins Carmen and David." Matt and Joyce? Oh, yeah, they live there, too. But we all know the real purpose of the visit.
It is midnight and I have forgotten to go to bed. I probably should. Good night.
Monday, July 31, 2006
She called me Mommy!
Finally. Tell David he's next.
I wonder if she'll remember tomorrow? A few days ago, when she woke up the first word out of her mouth was "tractor." That word she hasn't forgotten.
I wonder if she'll remember tomorrow? A few days ago, when she woke up the first word out of her mouth was "tractor." That word she hasn't forgotten.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Bigger and Better Than Ever
Well-baby checkup today. I schlepped them all the way in to the doctor's office to have him tell me they're fine. Fine? They're not fine, they're marvelous!
C&D enjoyed talking to the doctor as he counted their fingers and toes, but did not appreciate the feeling of his stethoscope on their backs. After that, the visit accelerated downhill. I think they wondered if they were going to get poked. Despite just calling them "fine," he does get credit for always being calm despite their Dolby-Stereo yowling at every visit.
Heights and weights:
Carmen weighs twenty-seven pounds, two ounces, and measured at 32" tall. Today I found her lifting her shirt and patting her round little belly.
David weighs twenty-four pounds, six ounces, and measured 31.5" tall. Today I found him lifting up my shirt and checking to make sure it was still me under there. That's all I can figure, anyway. What else would he be looking for? As long as he doesn't do that at the grocery, I don't mind, so I just let him look around. Then later he pulled on the collar of my shirt and looked down. Yep, still a mama under that shirt.
Yesterday morning Carmen refused to eat her oatmeal. She signed ice cream (our code word for yogurt) and then walked over to the refrigerator to try to open the door. I don't think I'm in charge, anymore.
C&D enjoyed talking to the doctor as he counted their fingers and toes, but did not appreciate the feeling of his stethoscope on their backs. After that, the visit accelerated downhill. I think they wondered if they were going to get poked. Despite just calling them "fine," he does get credit for always being calm despite their Dolby-Stereo yowling at every visit.
Heights and weights:
Carmen weighs twenty-seven pounds, two ounces, and measured at 32" tall. Today I found her lifting her shirt and patting her round little belly.
David weighs twenty-four pounds, six ounces, and measured 31.5" tall. Today I found him lifting up my shirt and checking to make sure it was still me under there. That's all I can figure, anyway. What else would he be looking for? As long as he doesn't do that at the grocery, I don't mind, so I just let him look around. Then later he pulled on the collar of my shirt and looked down. Yep, still a mama under that shirt.
Yesterday morning Carmen refused to eat her oatmeal. She signed ice cream (our code word for yogurt) and then walked over to the refrigerator to try to open the door. I don't think I'm in charge, anymore.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Can they stay this way forever?
Today David lifted my shirt to kiss my back, my belly, or my shoulder no less than a dozen times. When I was standing, he would lift my pant legs and kiss my shins. He rolls on the floor with Carmen and kisses her knees, her hair, her elbow, her heel. At the Learning Tower, he leans toward her and kisses her shoulder while she squirms and giggles.
Carmen has been attempting a new word or a new sign every day. New words and signs include library, cooking, rock, pink, red, dump truck, daffodil, and, her longest one yet, pumpkin seed butter. "Pumpkin seed butter?" Couldn't she try something easier?
And she is becoming quite expert at scolding the cat, waggling her finger in his face and saying something about biting (I'm assuming she's telling him not to).
Can they stay this way forever, tender and generous and curious and funny and oh-so-independent . . . but still mine to soothe and hold whenever the mood strikes us?
Carmen has been attempting a new word or a new sign every day. New words and signs include library, cooking, rock, pink, red, dump truck, daffodil, and, her longest one yet, pumpkin seed butter. "Pumpkin seed butter?" Couldn't she try something easier?
And she is becoming quite expert at scolding the cat, waggling her finger in his face and saying something about biting (I'm assuming she's telling him not to).
Can they stay this way forever, tender and generous and curious and funny and oh-so-independent . . . but still mine to soothe and hold whenever the mood strikes us?
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Games (Twin) Toddlers Play
This blog entry says it better than I ever could. Unwise ideas, yes, but still so much fun!
The original post about the games toddlers play is at Mom 101.
The original post about the games toddlers play is at Mom 101.
Pfoooooh . . .
The babes are outside with Matt taking a bath. When he poured in the hot water, he hadn't yet added enough cold, so the water was very warm. Carmen stuck her hand in, signed hot and said "haaaaaah," and then blew out of her mouth, pfooooh, indicating I should blow on it to cool it off. I laughed at the thought of blowing on their bathwater.
They're back from the bath. We horsed around on the floor for a bit and David lifted my shirt and gave my back several kisses. That is his favorite place to kiss.
Circus today. We got tickets from the library for reading lots and lots of books. We didn't think the babes would enjoy the circus itself (even though the ticket agent kindly gave us center seats), but we did spent a good hour visiting the animals and watching the preshow on the floor of the arena. The preshow was as good, if not better, than the circus--it gave the babes the opportunity to watch the acrobats and clowns directly at the rings, and no cannons, whips, or brain-rattling motorcycles were involved. We were also able to control what of the antics of the clowns C&D watched--when a clown fell off his chair, Carmen cried in sympathy. When the same clown started hitting another with a juggling club, we moved on to the Chinese acrobats. We're sure C&D don't need any ideas about using their toys in unsanctioned ways.
The babes' favorite animals to visit were the zebra and the elphants, which we signed for again and again.
They're back from the bath. We horsed around on the floor for a bit and David lifted my shirt and gave my back several kisses. That is his favorite place to kiss.
Circus today. We got tickets from the library for reading lots and lots of books. We didn't think the babes would enjoy the circus itself (even though the ticket agent kindly gave us center seats), but we did spent a good hour visiting the animals and watching the preshow on the floor of the arena. The preshow was as good, if not better, than the circus--it gave the babes the opportunity to watch the acrobats and clowns directly at the rings, and no cannons, whips, or brain-rattling motorcycles were involved. We were also able to control what of the antics of the clowns C&D watched--when a clown fell off his chair, Carmen cried in sympathy. When the same clown started hitting another with a juggling club, we moved on to the Chinese acrobats. We're sure C&D don't need any ideas about using their toys in unsanctioned ways.
The babes' favorite animals to visit were the zebra and the elphants, which we signed for again and again.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
What happened to my basket?!
I put the big baskets away this morning. Maybe I should have left one out. Bad mama. Carmen tried to push him around in it, anyway, but David didn't react favorably so she gave up on that activity.
It's official
David is called "Day-dee." Sweet!
We're also working hard to say earring and turtle ("tur-tur," according to David).
But I'm still Daddy, and Daddy is still Daddy, too. More often, though, we're just "eh, uh, uh!"
Now off to get more of baby kisses (on my arm, on my back, on my leg, on my face) and persaude them that oatmeal (again!) is a perfectly exciting breakfast. Maybe I will also give them some of the pumpkin seed butter I made yesterday. They liked it as much as the goat yogurt (i.e., a lot!).
We're also working hard to say earring and turtle ("tur-tur," according to David).
But I'm still Daddy, and Daddy is still Daddy, too. More often, though, we're just "eh, uh, uh!"
Now off to get more of baby kisses (on my arm, on my back, on my leg, on my face) and persaude them that oatmeal (again!) is a perfectly exciting breakfast. Maybe I will also give them some of the pumpkin seed butter I made yesterday. They liked it as much as the goat yogurt (i.e., a lot!).
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Once she starts, she can't stop
Carmen rolling around in bed, trying to get to sleep:
"Hi, hi. Hi, hi. Ah-tchu. Ah-tchu. Wow. Wooooow. Wow. Wow! WOW!"
Sweet dreams, silly.
More words that we remembered as we walked with the babes through the Galleria today:
Up -- Carmen sometimes says, "puh," rather than "up"
Down -- said with emphasis, more often by Carmen than David, and she actually got the "n" sound in there tonight. Good trick. (We rode the glass elevators tonight, and Carmen liked announcing when we were going up or down. Last week she could only say down, which is inconvenient for an elevator.)
Squirrel -- "skwll," but this one's tricky! I'm impressed that they would even try it.
Spoon -- "sp" by David or "spnnnn" by Carmen, this one's tricky without the ASL sign
Fork -- "fowk," another tricky word that only Carmen attempts
Bathtub -- "battub," another Carmen word
Baby -- "Bay-bee"
Light -- "light," but this is a Carmen-only word
Ducks -- ducks (did I write down this one already?). Carmen says and signs "duck" whenever she sees a fountain, because there are fountains in the artificial ponds where she has seen ducks. So that means if she sees a sprinkler, she says, "DUCK! DUCK!" Today, she saw a broken water main on W. Alabama. Well, technically she saw a broken water main. But really, she saw a small gurgling fountain conveniently placed in the middle of the street. Duck, duck!
Pretty -- "Pet-tee," a Carmen word that she uses most when she puts on one of their Mardis Gras-style beaded necklaces
Boo -- like "peekaboo," but it sounds like "bew!"
Ah-choo! -- This first was "aaahhhh-too!" but both C&D have nearly perfected the art of the imitated sneeze. Not sure where they learned it, but they think sneezes (and burps, but those are harder to imitate) are ridiculously funny. So sometimes they sneeze, and I sneeze back. Or I say, "Bless you!" and look surprised, and they sneeze again. Silly, silly, silly little people.
And they can say "wow," of course. Wow!
Hurray for ASL. I'd have a hard time interpreting any of these words if they weren't accompanied by the sign. Especially words like "squirrel." Who'da thunk it?
More before-bed antics tonight. David has gotten good at getting into a small Ikea basket without tipping it over; I think his legs are just long enough, now, that he can step into it comfortably. Tonight after a before-bed snack (more yogurt, but thankfully, less mess than last night), David crawled into the basket. Matt wanted to floss (which Carmen likes to imitate, incidentally, any time she finds a piece of string) and have a whole three minutes to himself, so he urged Carmen to go push David in the basket. Bedtime was much later than usual tonight. Can you guess why?
(Carmen is clapping because she is frustrated that David is all done. She learned to clap when she is angry because I clap loudly when I want to distract the babes from fighting. It's funny, and I'd much rather her clap than hit or bite.)
Sometimes Carmen just looks for trouble. While we were eating at the Galleria, David decided he was finished and bored and started throwing out his food. I held his hand while I scooped out his bowl and he put his teeth over my arm, contemplating a bite. Just as he was about the clamp down, I said "ow!" and pulled my arm back. Carmen, I guess, wanted some of the attention for herself, and stuck her arm in David's mouth, hoping he would bite it. "Ow!" she said with feeling. In thirty years will she have a role in any class-action lawsuits?
"Hi, hi. Hi, hi. Ah-tchu. Ah-tchu. Wow. Wooooow. Wow. Wow! WOW!"
Sweet dreams, silly.
More words that we remembered as we walked with the babes through the Galleria today:
Up -- Carmen sometimes says, "puh," rather than "up"
Down -- said with emphasis, more often by Carmen than David, and she actually got the "n" sound in there tonight. Good trick. (We rode the glass elevators tonight, and Carmen liked announcing when we were going up or down. Last week she could only say down, which is inconvenient for an elevator.)
Squirrel -- "skwll," but this one's tricky! I'm impressed that they would even try it.
Spoon -- "sp" by David or "spnnnn" by Carmen, this one's tricky without the ASL sign
Fork -- "fowk," another tricky word that only Carmen attempts
Bathtub -- "battub," another Carmen word
Baby -- "Bay-bee"
Light -- "light," but this is a Carmen-only word
Ducks -- ducks (did I write down this one already?). Carmen says and signs "duck" whenever she sees a fountain, because there are fountains in the artificial ponds where she has seen ducks. So that means if she sees a sprinkler, she says, "DUCK! DUCK!" Today, she saw a broken water main on W. Alabama. Well, technically she saw a broken water main. But really, she saw a small gurgling fountain conveniently placed in the middle of the street. Duck, duck!
Pretty -- "Pet-tee," a Carmen word that she uses most when she puts on one of their Mardis Gras-style beaded necklaces
Boo -- like "peekaboo," but it sounds like "bew!"
Ah-choo! -- This first was "aaahhhh-too!" but both C&D have nearly perfected the art of the imitated sneeze. Not sure where they learned it, but they think sneezes (and burps, but those are harder to imitate) are ridiculously funny. So sometimes they sneeze, and I sneeze back. Or I say, "Bless you!" and look surprised, and they sneeze again. Silly, silly, silly little people.
And they can say "wow," of course. Wow!
Hurray for ASL. I'd have a hard time interpreting any of these words if they weren't accompanied by the sign. Especially words like "squirrel." Who'da thunk it?
More before-bed antics tonight. David has gotten good at getting into a small Ikea basket without tipping it over; I think his legs are just long enough, now, that he can step into it comfortably. Tonight after a before-bed snack (more yogurt, but thankfully, less mess than last night), David crawled into the basket. Matt wanted to floss (which Carmen likes to imitate, incidentally, any time she finds a piece of string) and have a whole three minutes to himself, so he urged Carmen to go push David in the basket. Bedtime was much later than usual tonight. Can you guess why?
(Carmen is clapping because she is frustrated that David is all done. She learned to clap when she is angry because I clap loudly when I want to distract the babes from fighting. It's funny, and I'd much rather her clap than hit or bite.)
Sometimes Carmen just looks for trouble. While we were eating at the Galleria, David decided he was finished and bored and started throwing out his food. I held his hand while I scooped out his bowl and he put his teeth over my arm, contemplating a bite. Just as he was about the clamp down, I said "ow!" and pulled my arm back. Carmen, I guess, wanted some of the attention for herself, and stuck her arm in David's mouth, hoping he would bite it. "Ow!" she said with feeling. In thirty years will she have a role in any class-action lawsuits?
But wait, there's more!
Matt and I realized this morning that I neglected to mention several more words that the babes have been working on, lately. They almost always sign the word that they are trying to say, so our odds of guessing correctly are higher than they would be, otherwise. For instance:
Potato -- tha-tu
Down -- dow!
Broom -- boom
Bread -- breah
Bear -- bayer
Bubble -- boble
Thank you -- ta-tu
Block -- blah
Sit -- ssss! (while signing sit)
Ball -- ball, or baw
Cracker -- Ta-tur
Uh-oh -- Ah-oooo!
Oh (the cereal) -- Oooooooooo!
Peach -- psh (while signing peach)
Banana -- nanananan (Carmen's version) or anananan (David's version)
Today Carmen gave me a case of the warm fuzzies. We were outside playing with a doll and I told her that the doll was crying and needed milk. She cradled it, nursed it, and then held it to her heart and signed sleep. David wanted to play with the doll, so I brought the second doll from inside, as well as the camera. Then I told Carmen the doll needed milk again. It's sleeping, she said. Then she held the baby like this:
<
Later, David gave the dolls a ride in the stroller:
We don't play with our rocking horses as much as we used to when we go outside, now. A few weeks ago David rocked so hard that his horse bucked him right over the reigns. The horses have attachments that allow them to become ride-on toys, but the babes can't push the horses as ride-ons with the same wild gusto that they could rock. I'll have to keep checking the consignment store for a rodeo-worthy ride.
Speaking of rodeo-worthy, I finally found a hat that Carmen will wear for more than 10 seconds--a straw cowboy hat from the George Ranch. Yee-haw, little lady.
Carmen has learned the power of "ow." The other day she and David were horsing around on the futon. David opened his mouth wide and contemplated taking a bite on her fat little thigh. Carmen looked around for Mommy to the rescue. "Ow, bi(te)!" she said, putting her fingers together to sign hurt. Poor David. She won't let him get away with anything, anymore.
She's even figured out how to climb the tower that a few days ago he was able to enjoy all by himself. David's favorite activity is to climb the tower, turn on the clock radio on the counter, and dance a little jig. When he's hungry he can just help himself to whatever I've left on the counter, a box of crackers, or some freshly-washed grapes. I don't mind, although I do wish he wouldn't bite into his grapes, suck out the juice, and then drop the pulp and skin on the floor. It's messy. I might rather he do that, though, then climb from the tower onto the table or the counter, which he is capable of doing.
Potato -- tha-tu
Down -- dow!
Broom -- boom
Bread -- breah
Bear -- bayer
Bubble -- boble
Thank you -- ta-tu
Block -- blah
Sit -- ssss! (while signing sit)
Ball -- ball, or baw
Cracker -- Ta-tur
Uh-oh -- Ah-oooo!
Oh (the cereal) -- Oooooooooo!
Peach -- psh (while signing peach)
Banana -- nanananan (Carmen's version) or anananan (David's version)
Today Carmen gave me a case of the warm fuzzies. We were outside playing with a doll and I told her that the doll was crying and needed milk. She cradled it, nursed it, and then held it to her heart and signed sleep. David wanted to play with the doll, so I brought the second doll from inside, as well as the camera. Then I told Carmen the doll needed milk again. It's sleeping, she said. Then she held the baby like this:
<
Later, David gave the dolls a ride in the stroller:
We don't play with our rocking horses as much as we used to when we go outside, now. A few weeks ago David rocked so hard that his horse bucked him right over the reigns. The horses have attachments that allow them to become ride-on toys, but the babes can't push the horses as ride-ons with the same wild gusto that they could rock. I'll have to keep checking the consignment store for a rodeo-worthy ride.
Speaking of rodeo-worthy, I finally found a hat that Carmen will wear for more than 10 seconds--a straw cowboy hat from the George Ranch. Yee-haw, little lady.
Carmen has learned the power of "ow." The other day she and David were horsing around on the futon. David opened his mouth wide and contemplated taking a bite on her fat little thigh. Carmen looked around for Mommy to the rescue. "Ow, bi(te)!" she said, putting her fingers together to sign hurt. Poor David. She won't let him get away with anything, anymore.
She's even figured out how to climb the tower that a few days ago he was able to enjoy all by himself. David's favorite activity is to climb the tower, turn on the clock radio on the counter, and dance a little jig. When he's hungry he can just help himself to whatever I've left on the counter, a box of crackers, or some freshly-washed grapes. I don't mind, although I do wish he wouldn't bite into his grapes, suck out the juice, and then drop the pulp and skin on the floor. It's messy. I might rather he do that, though, then climb from the tower onto the table or the counter, which he is capable of doing.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Live Feed from Houston, Texas
The babes think whole goat milk yogurt, sweetened with a splash of maple syrup, is divine. They can't slurp it up fast enough, and eventually try drinking it straight from the bowl. David tries to say "go-gur," but today decided that he would just sign ice cream. Same result:
I found out recently that the CBS reality show Big Brother had a new twist for its fourth season--a 24/7 live video feed. At any given moment a viewer could plug in to watch the houseguests eat, bicker, and otherwise get on each other's nerves.
A live feed from my house would look something like this (last night, anyway):
This is a game invented by Carmen, and it goes on until Carmen can no longer stand up. Note that Matt isn't pulling her around . . . Carmen is self-propelled. The best time to play this game is right before bedtime, of course. Note David climbing up and down the Learning Tower. That game goes on until he finds something more interesting, like, for example, a basket of fruit
or a box of crackers.
Those are the only pictures we've taken lately. The babes move too fast, otherwise. We are talking quite a lot, now, and signing even more. We know now how to say potty (pah-ee), hi, bye, trash truck (ta-rah ta-ruh), tractor (ta-tuhr), truck (ta-ruh), down (DOWn), cow (cow or dow), horse (hoss), shopping (poppin), diaper (peeper), poopoo (poopoo), cat (ta!), time (for Baby Signing Time and Signing Time, this is just Carmen's), duck (duh!, this is just Carmen's), zebra (be-bra, this is just Carmen's). We try to say motorcycle (da-da-da-dah, while signing), helicopter (da-da-dah, while signing), elephant (da-da-dah, while signing), book (buh), fish (fshhh). The babes call Matt Daddy, but sign Mommy. David calls me Daddy, too. Carmen tries hard to make important statements using her ASL: Daddy work car "BYE!" while David is prone to using his baby babble for making long unintelligible lectures about the nature of the universe. We can say "bzzzzzz!" like the washing machine when it buzzes.
Music is as important as ever. David prefers to partner dance, with me holding him and swinging around the living room floor. Carmen will dance anywhere, anyhow, at the slightest bit of music, even if she is in her stroller. To compensate for her confinement she will hold onto the front bar and bounce up and down, up and down. She bounces in Saks, she bounces at the grocery, she bounces to the music of the band at Central Market while she eats her dinner. In her carseat she nods her head while David kicks his foot. She tried to sing along with me once (to a Dixie Chicks song), but she hasn't again. Probably she isn't sure how to match my off-key singing.
Busy days are happy days. Trips to the grocery become expeditions. The babes know that Whole Foods and Wal-Mart have fish tanks, and Kroger does, too. We tell everyone "hi," demand to taste the merchandise, and then say "bye" on our way out. David often gives mini-lectures to anyone who will hear them, while Carmen lowers her head and tries not to smile.
We are still afraid of the bouncy, and, in fact, are afraid of anything that seems to have a life of its own, like a collapsible springed tunnel. We are no longer afraid of the trash truck, but David is afraid of thunder and Carmen is afraid of the static on the television that happens when she turns it on, maxes out the volume, and then puts on, say, channel 125 (we don't have cable).
We are addicted to Kashi TLC crackers. David thinks it's fun to soak them in juice and feed them to me. I think it's less fun, but will eat them, anyway.
We are sleeping better, although Carmen's nights have been rough, lately. No wonder--she is sprouting four molars this week.
At sight or sound, we point out every plane and helicopter we find. We take tractor rides at the farm and cry when the rides are over. We like to snort back at small steers and touch horses on the nose.
And we prefer jumping on the couch and climbing the furniture to gymnastics class. Yesterday was their second class. They liked watching the other children, especially the older gymnastics flipping and rolling at another section of the gym, but they don't like Coach Lisa. Yesterday she persuaded David to hang from the trapeze bar. Nervously swinging, he was about to crack a smile when she let him fall on the cushions below. David howled. "You aren't hurt," she said. Of course not, but he was offended and surprised, anyway, and to David, that's just the same if not worse. Then Carmen cried because David cried. The rest of the visit they didn't want to have anything to do with Coach Lisa or her gym equipment, and clung to my shirt or shorts until nearly the end of the session. Last week she tried to persuade them to do somersaults. That didn't work so well, either. I think that's as it should be. I would be extraordinarily annoyed if someone twice my height picked me up at the waist, flopped me on a pillow, and then clapped. The other children didn't mind, but at 18 and 19 months, most if not all had already taken multiple gymnastics and Gymboree classes, so they were accustomed to being bounced by complete strangers, and were not even slightly interested in what the other children were doing.
The gym class is supposed to be free play, but it turns out that since this is the summer and there are "camps" going on all day for Shannon Miller hopefuls, the baby Tumblebugs need to share the gym equipment. That means that if the babes want to spend the whole 1/2 hour at the trampoline, they can't. They have to keep moving from one area to the other as a group. And that's too bad, because that 1/2 hour at the trampoline (with a pit of foam blocks to dive into!) was the very reason I signed up, and it was the only piece of equipment that the babes immediately liked.
It isn't especially fun or cost-effective to sit in the middle of a large gymnasium with fifty pounds of baby in my arms while other children jump, flop, and tumble, so I pulled the babes out of the class. Maybe in the fall, when Coach Lisa's antics are forgotten (or will they say, "oh, that's the lady that DROPPED me, let's get out of here!"), the babes can revisit the gym on the explicit direction that if they want to do nothing but bounce on the trampoline, they can. Until then . . . there's always the couch.
I found out recently that the CBS reality show Big Brother had a new twist for its fourth season--a 24/7 live video feed. At any given moment a viewer could plug in to watch the houseguests eat, bicker, and otherwise get on each other's nerves.
A live feed from my house would look something like this (last night, anyway):
This is a game invented by Carmen, and it goes on until Carmen can no longer stand up. Note that Matt isn't pulling her around . . . Carmen is self-propelled. The best time to play this game is right before bedtime, of course. Note David climbing up and down the Learning Tower. That game goes on until he finds something more interesting, like, for example, a basket of fruit
or a box of crackers.Those are the only pictures we've taken lately. The babes move too fast, otherwise. We are talking quite a lot, now, and signing even more. We know now how to say potty (pah-ee), hi, bye, trash truck (ta-rah ta-ruh), tractor (ta-tuhr), truck (ta-ruh), down (DOWn), cow (cow or dow), horse (hoss), shopping (poppin), diaper (peeper), poopoo (poopoo), cat (ta!), time (for Baby Signing Time and Signing Time, this is just Carmen's), duck (duh!, this is just Carmen's), zebra (be-bra, this is just Carmen's). We try to say motorcycle (da-da-da-dah, while signing), helicopter (da-da-dah, while signing), elephant (da-da-dah, while signing), book (buh), fish (fshhh). The babes call Matt Daddy, but sign Mommy. David calls me Daddy, too. Carmen tries hard to make important statements using her ASL: Daddy work car "BYE!" while David is prone to using his baby babble for making long unintelligible lectures about the nature of the universe. We can say "bzzzzzz!" like the washing machine when it buzzes.
Music is as important as ever. David prefers to partner dance, with me holding him and swinging around the living room floor. Carmen will dance anywhere, anyhow, at the slightest bit of music, even if she is in her stroller. To compensate for her confinement she will hold onto the front bar and bounce up and down, up and down. She bounces in Saks, she bounces at the grocery, she bounces to the music of the band at Central Market while she eats her dinner. In her carseat she nods her head while David kicks his foot. She tried to sing along with me once (to a Dixie Chicks song), but she hasn't again. Probably she isn't sure how to match my off-key singing.
Busy days are happy days. Trips to the grocery become expeditions. The babes know that Whole Foods and Wal-Mart have fish tanks, and Kroger does, too. We tell everyone "hi," demand to taste the merchandise, and then say "bye" on our way out. David often gives mini-lectures to anyone who will hear them, while Carmen lowers her head and tries not to smile.
We are still afraid of the bouncy, and, in fact, are afraid of anything that seems to have a life of its own, like a collapsible springed tunnel. We are no longer afraid of the trash truck, but David is afraid of thunder and Carmen is afraid of the static on the television that happens when she turns it on, maxes out the volume, and then puts on, say, channel 125 (we don't have cable).
We are addicted to Kashi TLC crackers. David thinks it's fun to soak them in juice and feed them to me. I think it's less fun, but will eat them, anyway.
We are sleeping better, although Carmen's nights have been rough, lately. No wonder--she is sprouting four molars this week.
At sight or sound, we point out every plane and helicopter we find. We take tractor rides at the farm and cry when the rides are over. We like to snort back at small steers and touch horses on the nose.
And we prefer jumping on the couch and climbing the furniture to gymnastics class. Yesterday was their second class. They liked watching the other children, especially the older gymnastics flipping and rolling at another section of the gym, but they don't like Coach Lisa. Yesterday she persuaded David to hang from the trapeze bar. Nervously swinging, he was about to crack a smile when she let him fall on the cushions below. David howled. "You aren't hurt," she said. Of course not, but he was offended and surprised, anyway, and to David, that's just the same if not worse. Then Carmen cried because David cried. The rest of the visit they didn't want to have anything to do with Coach Lisa or her gym equipment, and clung to my shirt or shorts until nearly the end of the session. Last week she tried to persuade them to do somersaults. That didn't work so well, either. I think that's as it should be. I would be extraordinarily annoyed if someone twice my height picked me up at the waist, flopped me on a pillow, and then clapped. The other children didn't mind, but at 18 and 19 months, most if not all had already taken multiple gymnastics and Gymboree classes, so they were accustomed to being bounced by complete strangers, and were not even slightly interested in what the other children were doing.
The gym class is supposed to be free play, but it turns out that since this is the summer and there are "camps" going on all day for Shannon Miller hopefuls, the baby Tumblebugs need to share the gym equipment. That means that if the babes want to spend the whole 1/2 hour at the trampoline, they can't. They have to keep moving from one area to the other as a group. And that's too bad, because that 1/2 hour at the trampoline (with a pit of foam blocks to dive into!) was the very reason I signed up, and it was the only piece of equipment that the babes immediately liked.
It isn't especially fun or cost-effective to sit in the middle of a large gymnasium with fifty pounds of baby in my arms while other children jump, flop, and tumble, so I pulled the babes out of the class. Maybe in the fall, when Coach Lisa's antics are forgotten (or will they say, "oh, that's the lady that DROPPED me, let's get out of here!"), the babes can revisit the gym on the explicit direction that if they want to do nothing but bounce on the trampoline, they can. Until then . . . there's always the couch.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Recently
At the park today. There was a cricket game behind us. The babes can swing long past the point we are tired--40 minutes, easily. Matt is wearing a hat that was mine until he squashed it.
More text comes later, as soon as I have a chance. They are silly and sweet, these babes:
Carmen showing her interpretation of the ASL sign for penguin:
The purpose of puddles is splashing
Carmen shopping at Target (we took extra long, made our path extra-circuitous, and she still cried when it was time to leave)
And for the fellow co-sleepers, the best article I've found on the subject comes from Slate, of all places.
More text comes later, as soon as I have a chance. They are silly and sweet, these babes:
Carmen showing her interpretation of the ASL sign for penguin:
The purpose of puddles is splashing
Carmen shopping at Target (we took extra long, made our path extra-circuitous, and she still cried when it was time to leave)
And for the fellow co-sleepers, the best article I've found on the subject comes from Slate, of all places.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Boo.
Turned in my report yesterday, but it still needs more edits, so the blog hiatus continues. Your loss--they're awfully funny these days, and I'm already forgetting some of the best stories.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Beach day
We went to the beach today. David enjoyed the sand and water, but Carmen did not. After all, the water was wet, and the sand dirty. They both enjoyed the seagulls, though had we been in California they may have enjoyed the drunk pelicans more.
Pictures later. I think the camera is still in the car.
Pictures later. I think the camera is still in the car.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Dawdling
I should be in bed. But I'm dawdling. What else is new?
The babes have entered a hats phase. Boxes, baskets, a plastic molcajete, and various parts of our wardrobe are all strong candidates for being worn as hats. Carmen prefers the over-the-eyes look.
Whole Foods today, and Madison the Magical Juice Lady was working. She showed the babies a carrot cheer--complete with a shaking booty--and the babes, still groggy from a too-short afternoon nap, just watched, slack-jawed. But when she gave them some fresh carrot-orange juice, they instantly perked up, flapping their arms and squealing, signing juice and more and delighting everyone at the counter. This is what they looked like in the car when we got home. (Poor David was a little tired.)
Last week David grew into Carmen's Preschoolians, and Carmen grew into a pair of size 23's. Actually, she was a 22, but Preschoolians messed up the order (oops), so I told Carmen she'd just have to make do for a week. She didn't seem to mind, and walked all around the house pointing at her feet and saying "shoes!"
Somebody remind Daddy that he should check and make sure that the babes' pants aren't crooked when he puts them on, eh? Carmen doesn't seem to care, though. She just goes and goes, however she's dressed.
She is my daughter. Here's an excerpt from an e-mail that I sent to Ashley this week discussing Carmen's dawdling at night:
Sorry we missed you. We were in the throws of dinner (as in, thrown food, not throes, although it is agonizing to pick up rice and beans off the floor, off the table, from the walls, and all the little cracks in the booster seat three times a day . . . so it’s maybe throws for the babies, throes for the parents). And then it took Carmen 1.5 hours to get to bed. She’s the master dawdler. She nurses, she potties . . .
And I put her down.
Then she needs to potty
Then she needs water
Then she needs to potty
And she needs me to read on the potty
The same book
Again
And again
And again
And I put her down
Then she needs to potty
Then she decides her nose is stuffy, and will I please aspirate it?
And I put her down
Then she needs to potty . . .
And it kinds of goes on and on and on like that.
I won’t deny her potty time, because if you gotta go, you gotta go . . . but I suspect she’s really dawdling (I’m sure you’re suspecting the same), and this is kind of weird, because I didn’t think a kid this small would have figured out already how to dawdle? ALTHOUGH she does actually go every time she sits on the potty (although she’ll sit for 10 minutes just for a tinkle, just because she likes sitting there) so, eh, who knows?
But she is a real stinker. That quiet, patient baby is a thing of the past, lemme tell ya. She’s hilarious. They both are.
And this is the schedule I gave her (Ashley's visiting next week):
By 6:30 they’re awake
7:30 they’re eating breakfast after morning boob, brushing teeth, combing hair, and emptying my sock drawer
9:30 they eat a snack (which they sometimes eat in my poor car)
11:15 lunch (more or less . . . they’re usually pretty exhausted unless they’ve had a snooze in the car)
12:00 nap
2:30 wake up
3:00 snack
5:30 Matt home, eat dinner (that I may or may not have cooked . . . June Cleaver I AIN’T!)
7:00 lights out
7:15 brush teeth and Big Red Barn (by the big red barn in the great green field, a little pink pig was learning to squeal . . .)
7:30 babies asleep IN THEORY (ha ha)
8:00 David is konked out by now for sure
8:30 Carmen is maybe konked out, but she’d rather not be
If Carmen's asleep, I should be, too. Good night!
The babes have entered a hats phase. Boxes, baskets, a plastic molcajete, and various parts of our wardrobe are all strong candidates for being worn as hats. Carmen prefers the over-the-eyes look.
Whole Foods today, and Madison the Magical Juice Lady was working. She showed the babies a carrot cheer--complete with a shaking booty--and the babes, still groggy from a too-short afternoon nap, just watched, slack-jawed. But when she gave them some fresh carrot-orange juice, they instantly perked up, flapping their arms and squealing, signing juice and more and delighting everyone at the counter. This is what they looked like in the car when we got home. (Poor David was a little tired.)
Last week David grew into Carmen's Preschoolians, and Carmen grew into a pair of size 23's. Actually, she was a 22, but Preschoolians messed up the order (oops), so I told Carmen she'd just have to make do for a week. She didn't seem to mind, and walked all around the house pointing at her feet and saying "shoes!"
Somebody remind Daddy that he should check and make sure that the babes' pants aren't crooked when he puts them on, eh? Carmen doesn't seem to care, though. She just goes and goes, however she's dressed.She is my daughter. Here's an excerpt from an e-mail that I sent to Ashley this week discussing Carmen's dawdling at night:
Sorry we missed you. We were in the throws of dinner (as in, thrown food, not throes, although it is agonizing to pick up rice and beans off the floor, off the table, from the walls, and all the little cracks in the booster seat three times a day . . . so it’s maybe throws for the babies, throes for the parents). And then it took Carmen 1.5 hours to get to bed. She’s the master dawdler. She nurses, she potties . . .
And I put her down.
Then she needs to potty
Then she needs water
Then she needs to potty
And she needs me to read on the potty
The same book
Again
And again
And again
And I put her down
Then she needs to potty
Then she decides her nose is stuffy, and will I please aspirate it?
And I put her down
Then she needs to potty . . .
And it kinds of goes on and on and on like that.
I won’t deny her potty time, because if you gotta go, you gotta go . . . but I suspect she’s really dawdling (I’m sure you’re suspecting the same), and this is kind of weird, because I didn’t think a kid this small would have figured out already how to dawdle? ALTHOUGH she does actually go every time she sits on the potty (although she’ll sit for 10 minutes just for a tinkle, just because she likes sitting there) so, eh, who knows?
But she is a real stinker. That quiet, patient baby is a thing of the past, lemme tell ya. She’s hilarious. They both are.
And this is the schedule I gave her (Ashley's visiting next week):
By 6:30 they’re awake
7:30 they’re eating breakfast after morning boob, brushing teeth, combing hair, and emptying my sock drawer
9:30 they eat a snack (which they sometimes eat in my poor car)
11:15 lunch (more or less . . . they’re usually pretty exhausted unless they’ve had a snooze in the car)
12:00 nap
2:30 wake up
3:00 snack
5:30 Matt home, eat dinner (that I may or may not have cooked . . . June Cleaver I AIN’T!)
7:00 lights out
7:15 brush teeth and Big Red Barn (by the big red barn in the great green field, a little pink pig was learning to squeal . . .)
7:30 babies asleep IN THEORY (ha ha)
8:00 David is konked out by now for sure
8:30 Carmen is maybe konked out, but she’d rather not be
If Carmen's asleep, I should be, too. Good night!
Sunday, June 18, 2006
We went to the park with Guest Blogger!
Father's day and all, so Guest Blogger got to take the babies to Hermann Park, Houston's premier pigeon and duck habitat and home to it's only hill. (in true Texas fashion, it's a pile of leftover dirt from building a football stadium, but it is nonetheless a hill).
We tried just a walk in the stroller, but Carmen kept signing "Shoe! Shoe!" to say that she wanted to walk around. Shoes are their favorite, favorite, favorite things right now. Every time the babies put on shoes, they get so so so excited, because shoes mean that they get to go somewhere, and when they go somewhere they get to run around. And the best types of somewheres are places with geography - the display aisles at Fry's, the steps on the deck at the local school, or even a hill. Up, down, up, down, up, down. And just in case I didn't know, reminding me that yep, that's a dog over there, and a puddle of water, and a bird, and a duck, and a bike.
And proof of how much we really learn by association. Every time we see a doctor's office, we cry now - even if they haven't started poking out our tear ducts. And every time we see a shoe, we are so excited because the shoe represents freedom, a chance to visit cows and chickens, and maybe even a hill. If Carmen ever shops at Nordstrom, we'll know where it started.
We tried just a walk in the stroller, but Carmen kept signing "Shoe! Shoe!" to say that she wanted to walk around. Shoes are their favorite, favorite, favorite things right now. Every time the babies put on shoes, they get so so so excited, because shoes mean that they get to go somewhere, and when they go somewhere they get to run around. And the best types of somewheres are places with geography - the display aisles at Fry's, the steps on the deck at the local school, or even a hill. Up, down, up, down, up, down. And just in case I didn't know, reminding me that yep, that's a dog over there, and a puddle of water, and a bird, and a duck, and a bike.
And proof of how much we really learn by association. Every time we see a doctor's office, we cry now - even if they haven't started poking out our tear ducts. And every time we see a shoe, we are so excited because the shoe represents freedom, a chance to visit cows and chickens, and maybe even a hill. If Carmen ever shops at Nordstrom, we'll know where it started.
Oh, guess what?
The rice cooker broke again. It was our third. Cuisinart, what's with your rice cookers? The third did last longer than all the others, by at least a month, despite being used at least once a day (for oatmeal and whatnot, not just rice). But it still broke.
So we give up. We bought a Zojirushi. Figure a Japanese company knows something about making rice cookers.
So we give up. We bought a Zojirushi. Figure a Japanese company knows something about making rice cookers.
All by myself
David just left to take the babes to Hermann Park to talk with the ducks and geese and leave me with a little peace and quiet to work on my BTA strategic plan for the BTNP. The house is quiet and strange as I sit here, all by myself, with the restless cat for company.
For Father's Day I gave Matt an Eric Carle book called Mister Seahorse. Seahorses carry the eggs of their young until they are ready to hatch--they are a daddy fish. In the book, the seahorse meets other daddy fishes, like the tilapia. The illustrations are beautiful because it is, after all, an Eric Carle book.
Never mind that the real motive for the seahorse nurturing its young is because it doesn't trust the female to do the same job. Fortunately most children's stories lend themselves to a broad--and most flattering--interpretation of reality. Didn't the Brothers Grimm make having a stepmother sound downright romantic?
I made Matt promise to keep the babes in the stroller when they visit the ducks. I keep thinking of a story on the news this past week. A little boy pulled away from his father and fell into a pond. Rather than drown, however, he just rolled onto his back and floated--just like he had been taught in his swimming class. The babes are going to take a class like that this fall at a pool near the house. (I should take it, too, but would be embarrassed to take a class called "Starfish 2.") Until then, the babes are stuck in the stroller when they outnumber their parents, especially near water.
I'm sure the ducks like it better that way, anyway.
For Father's Day I gave Matt an Eric Carle book called Mister Seahorse. Seahorses carry the eggs of their young until they are ready to hatch--they are a daddy fish. In the book, the seahorse meets other daddy fishes, like the tilapia. The illustrations are beautiful because it is, after all, an Eric Carle book.
Never mind that the real motive for the seahorse nurturing its young is because it doesn't trust the female to do the same job. Fortunately most children's stories lend themselves to a broad--and most flattering--interpretation of reality. Didn't the Brothers Grimm make having a stepmother sound downright romantic?
I made Matt promise to keep the babes in the stroller when they visit the ducks. I keep thinking of a story on the news this past week. A little boy pulled away from his father and fell into a pond. Rather than drown, however, he just rolled onto his back and floated--just like he had been taught in his swimming class. The babes are going to take a class like that this fall at a pool near the house. (I should take it, too, but would be embarrassed to take a class called "Starfish 2.") Until then, the babes are stuck in the stroller when they outnumber their parents, especially near water.
I'm sure the ducks like it better that way, anyway.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Go Bill, Go!
Yesterday Bill Gates, the world's richest anybody, announced he was leaving Microsoft to focus on working for his family foundation. Go, Bill, go! I'm proud of you, man, and hope more of those in your cohort will follow your example.
Just remember that whatever new projects you undertake, Microsoft products are still awfully buggy. The world might be your oyster, but that doesn't necessarily give you 6 billion beta testers to play with, okay?
Just remember that whatever new projects you undertake, Microsoft products are still awfully buggy. The world might be your oyster, but that doesn't necessarily give you 6 billion beta testers to play with, okay?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)