If You Book It, We Will Come

Attention, anyone who wants to head to the west coast expressly to spend some time at Cannon Beach, and is looking for a mildly boisterous family to go in on the rental with: we are in.


Naomi enjoys the sea breeze.


Muriel enjoys a goober grape sandwich and the very bad emergency bang trim I gave her right before the trip.

Jim had one decent morning to try to get some shots. The weather wasn't too cooperative. But my goodness, is this place ever stunning.


Hello Kitty, Representing.


Some nice lady let Jim be in one of our vacation photos. Also pictured, a friendly child we met on the beach. He is actually my friend's adorable almost three year old.


Fortunately, none of the kids really knew that digging in beach sand was supposed to involve bathing suits and sunscreen.


Really, really a beautiful place, and a wonderful time.

Springtime

How can these weekends go by so quickly? Ridiculous! Today Naomi and I headed to a birthday party for her classmate. It was at... Chuck E. Cheese. This was Naomi's first visit to the venerable Mr. Cheese's. She was a little overwhelmed at first, but had recovered enough after an hour and a half to declare that Chuck E. Cheese was super duper fun. Whee. I was comparing notes with another mom, and we agreed that our childhood version of this was Showbiz, and that Showbiz had been much bigger, darker, and deafeningly louder. So Chuck's was brighter and quieter (somehow) than I thought it was going to be. Still an insane mob scene. We tried to find some games to use our free tokens on. I found one that looked cute, with penguins, and after it started I realized that the point of the game was to hit the penguins (and occasionally walruses) over the head with a big wooden mallet. Nice.

We had a little sun in the afternoon, though the sprinkles have returned. This area is known for non-stop rain, I get it, but we go through periods here where it just gets ridiculous. It has warmed up, too, which is nice. Hopefully March's in-like-a-lion phase is over, and the lamb part is here to stay.

Jim convinced Naomi to try to pick every dandelion in the backyard, so both girls ended up with a lot of flowers.

It's All Relative

Naomi has been fascinated with germs lately (for two months, lately), not in a phobic way, just in an amazed that there are things that are too small to see way. The result is that everything we talk about is appraised for its size, and not surprisingly, is then described as "but, it's bigger than a germ, though, right?" Right!

Today we got the other benchmark for size. At dinner, Naomi described something as bigger than a germ, but smaller than a giant. So there you are.

Confessions of a Freeloader

There has always been an espresso machine at my office. I never used it, because we had free coffee, and really, coffee is just fine with me. When we moved to the new office, the free coffee went away, and the espresso machine became the center of an espresso collective. You give money, and our overly obliging Gal Friday buys the beans and the milk. This led of course to stupid signs on the fridge. "Milk is for espresso users only." Says the original. "Also for calves." Says the hand-written addendum. "And to bind us to our mammalian ancestry." Says the second addendum. Here we go. I did not join the collective, thinking I could just bring my own coffee, or buy the $.50 coffee from the wacky new machine, in a pinch.

I have not gotten my act together on the bringing coffee from home thing, leaving me to spend my hard-earned money at the Starbucks that is strategically located between the parking ramp and my office building. My boring drink at Starbucks, if you were wondering, is the grande nonfat latte, extra hot. Or again, buying the $.50 coffee from the machine (I can't remember what this thing is called), into which you insert your quarters (exact change only) and a weird little packet of something (coffee concentrate?), before you get the coffee out. I was doing that a few weeks ago, when one of my super friendly coworkers that of course I don't know said, "I wondered who would actually use that machine!" Nice.

So I approached the office assistant lady about getting in on the espresso collective. She said that she had recently been told that her arrangement violated the super strict policies of our company regarding soliciting money. They don't mess around. You are not allowed to hang up your kid's Girl Scout Cookie sign up sheet, that kind of thing. She said she was going to figure out some other thing, where we all sign up to bring beans and milk on some particular week or whatever. I said, OK, count me in.

Then, with a little encouragement from a regular user, I figured out how to get a cup of coffee out of the machine, and have been using it ever since. Sorry, this post is so long and boring. Have a cup of coffee! So I see our trusty assistant in the kitchen the other day, and I ask her if she has gotten the coffee thing figured out. She says no. The machine is leaking, and the company has taken back the new one we had that was to be the replacement. Once the beans run out, that's it. The collective is over.

Which means- I have been a coffee drinking member of the espresso collective without ever paying in. It's only been a couple of weeks, and I still occasionally stop at Starbucks, so it's eight or ten cups of coffee. But still! How do I come clean? Put a bowl of nickels on the machine with a note to have each member take one? The real solution is just to stop drinking the coffee right now. Sigh.

Speaking of machines in the work kitchen, the toaster in the new kitchen is SO MUCH BETTER than the one at the old building. Trusting your slices to the old toaster was like holding the bread in front of your mouth and breathing warm air on it. It took two full rounds of toasting at full power to get even marginally crunchy. The new toaster goes to eleven. Crunchy toast is back, baby. I must point out, though, that the toaster is so high tech that it has to beep before the toast is released. Wha? Normally, the sound that alerts me that my toast is done is... the sproing of my toast sproinging out of the toaster. So now I hear Beeeeeeeeeeeeep. pause. Sproing. Can anyone think of a reason I would need the beep to pre-alarm the sproing? Also, quit trying to make toasters all high tech. If you peek into a toaster, you will see the same weird 19th century early electrical technology that toasted my great grandmother's toast (theoretically). Now I am channeling Andy Rooney.

Speaking of machines in the new building, I believe the bathroom at work might be haunted because of the way the paper towel dispensers are constantly issuing forth their product when I am locked in a stall. Those motion sensitive bathroom appliances always make me feel like I'm in a hidden camera show anyway, but the towel dispensers are all about going off when no one is out there making motion. Don't worry, I'm not going to hold a seance in the bathroom. What I need is a motion sensitive coffee maker, small enough to fit on my tiny desk. Beep!

And Finally, Party Pictures

Aww, look at that face. And Naomi is pretty cute, too. yuk yuk. We had Naomi's party in the afternoon, with the fairy tale (kind of) theme as planned. There aren't many photos, actually, for two reasons. Jim, the staff photographer, spent some time filming with the video camera, and some time entertaining the other dads. There was not much time left after that.

The good part of that is that we have some fun video of the treasure hunt. I was banking on our friends from church coming, because their daughter is in the second grade and can read. The girls found the clues, and she read each one to the little gaggle. They needed some prompting, but they found them all. The last clue directed them to the basement, where we had some bins set up with a lot of rice and some very faux gems hidden in it. This is an idea borrowed from my grad school friend, so thanks a lot, A! The girls had a good time digging out the gems, and then we went back upstairs and decorated little wooden boxes with them and with some fancy glitter foam stickers.

Then, there was cake. It was lopsided and overly sweet. In fact, Naomi told me she didn't like the frosting, which sounded a little like opposite day to me. Oh well. By the time we got to the cake, she was already feeling a little overwhelmed by the party, which you can kind of see in her face here:


And you can see her finished box there too. Treasure-y! There were eight girls total; Muriel was the youngest. Four sets of two sisters! Do we know how to pick friends or what?

In the background of this fun shot is Muriel doing some kind of America's Next Top Model hair flip move. But also, the now famous beanstalk, which was both decoration and one of the treasure hunt clue stops. I had asked Jim to draw a little Jack we could tape up, to complete the scene, and here's what he came up with instead:

Is this not so David Lynch? When Naomi came out, on the morning of her birthday, and saw the beanstalk, her reaction was so funny. She was almost angry. She said, "That is not a real beanstalk. That is not Jack. That is Muriel's Sock Baby, with a sock on her head!" Like we were going to mess with her and try to get her to think we had planted some magic beans there in the wood floor. Hee! She's growing up alright.

Last Day of February!!

If it is not a leap year, the last day of February now always belongs to Naomi, for me, and today really did. It was her birthday, and we had fun strawberry pancakes with whipped cream, a big fun birthday party (which deserves its own post, and shall have it, after the pictures exit the big camera), and general pandemonium. Ahh, and I am glad it is over.

Also over, though, is the month of daily blog posts. I am a little glad about that, although also a little sorry. I am seeing that it is really easy for me to make myself adhere to something strict if I know it is going to go away at some point. But does it stick? I have been somewhat less prone to buying stuff, since January's experiment, but I haven't exactly given it up. I did like the experience of making myself write every day. And I hope it will stick a little...

Before I forget, do you want to hear March's new month resolutions? I have two: 1. Eat three servings of vegetables every day. 2. Do thirty minutes of exercise every day. I have already thought of some rules around that- V8 only counts every other day. And walking counts. This boost of healthfulness is pretty timely, coming as it does at the end of the now historic week of cheesecake (capped off by the Saturday night of ice cream and whiskey). I was sick for half the month, so my recent decent record of regular exercise is now shot to heck. So yeah, a healthier month, where if I do post more regularly, you can bet there will be some discussion of vegetables or pleas for suggestions on how to be less bored on the treadmill.

Thanks for reading, February friends! I'll get some party pics up soon.

Friday Night

I just watched Cinderella with my princess-obsessed hours from being four year old. She stayed up WAY past her bedtime, and almost didn't make it to the end of the movie. Poor thing. To illustrate my insane Amish mother point about videos exposing her to things, even harmless, lovely Cinderella (one of my childhood favorites) stressed her out a little. Or maybe it was all in my head. Probably.

I genuinely wish I had the time right now to write more about the girl who turns four just after midnight (and since she was born in Central time, really, it's only an hour and twenty minutes away). How it was after so long being pregnant, finally knowing it was time to find out who was going to be joining our family. How long it took for her to be born. How surprised and shocked I was to learn that the baby I was so sure was a boy was, instead, Naomi. Two of her nurses were named Naomi- what are the chances? She was such a beautiful newborn, always had her eyes wide open, calmly looking around. And such a good baby- we always joked she was our practice kid. (I think we were right on that one...)

I just looked around for a picture to post and now I am weeping at the sight of her, so tiny and beautiful. Lucky for you guys I'm not going to post the placental picture. Yikes. But here she is, the birthday girl....

Thursday Night, That's All

First of all let me say that Jim's sister in Singapore sent him (and Naomi, but don't tell her) a cake for his birthday. She wired him a cake. Actually, she found a bakery on the internet, and then emailed me, and I picked up the cake. But still, a cake all the way from Singapore! I sneaked out to pick it up on his birthday- I happened to know the bakery because it was in my beloved shopping plaza across the street from my beloved old office building. Sigh. So yeah, it was a white chocolate cheesecake, which had me a little skeptical at first, but since we have been slowly and methodically eating our way through it over the course of the week, I feel I can say with relative certainty that only a fool would turn down a white chocolate cheesecake from Hoffman's Fine Pastries. It is so good. I just had a sliver, because it is my nightly ritual now and I can't escape it. In celebration of Jim's birthday, I will gain four pounds! Excellent!

Second, I have completely sold my soul to whomever buys you out on the issue of caving to peer pressure regarding the right way to celebrate the birthdays of small children who attend pre-school. By which I mean I have just wasted forty minutes and the last of my margarita buzz stuffing cellophane bags with "goodies" for Naomi's classmates. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the novelty pencils with decorative eraser toppers I could find tend more girly, so hopefully only a small majority of the boys in the class have staked their claim on the island of unswerving gender identification. I mean, butterflies don't have an inherent quality of girliness, just because they're pretty, right? Right? Also, I didn't buy enough bags, so I had to add in four extras I found in the basement, which might be from...my wedding?

Here's what you would get if you were a classmate of Naomi's and showed up to school tomorrow: pencil, with novelty eraser topper, two Hershey's dark chocolate kisses (which are against code- not supposed to include food, but I am desperate for some filler) (also, dark only because I thought Naomi would like the purple foil wrappers), a small strip of smiley stickers in neon colors, and a tube of glitter glue.

Can you believe we're almost to the end of the once a day blog posting? Whew! Sighs of relief all around! In the meantime, see you tomorrow...

A Little of Each

I have already given an indication of one of Muriel's defining character traits, that of being unable to stop trying to eat things... and I was getting ready to discuss another one, when I realized that Naomi should be getting the press, this being her week and all. So, after the Muriel mention, we'll see if I can remember what I was going to say about the big one...

I think I have already mentioned this, maybe more than once, but Muriel is very, very, wait for it... IMPATIENT!! She cannot wait for anything. When she was a baby, and it was time to nurse, she would see that it was time, and then start to fuss and cry because things weren't moving fast enough for her. In the car now, when we are driving together, I offer to sing songs for her, and she agrees, and then once I start singing, she says, No! No! Not that one! And then she goes into one of her unintelligible but very earnest monologues, from which I attempt to suss out the song request, and I say, Itsy Bitsy Spider? ABCs? Doe, a Deer? The Bumblebee one? And no matter what she says she wanted, if I start to sing, she objects. Maybe she just doesn't like my singing?

It is on my mind because it happened again tonight, when I was reading her some stories before bed. I cannot turn the pages fast enough for her. And even though she picked the book, she is ready to quit the thing before it's done. The girl needs action! Constant action! I am loving this kid, she is so different from her sister, and so out of my range, so her own person.

So, the big sister? We went through a patch with her, a few weeks or more, where everything was a struggle, and we felt like we were yelling at her non stop, which we probably were. And now, just in time, with four years old in our sights, she is so grown up and agreeable. She is solicitous of her sister in a new way. She says OK when we ask her to do something, and then does it. She talks about her angry feelings in good ways - "I am so angry that I am going to stamp my foot at you!" She still threatens to tell on me, which I never get tired of. But overall, she's measuring up to four pretty well, I think.

Here's an anecdote that is too tortuous to post, so of course I'm going to. Jim gave the girls some applesauce, but only the tiniest trace. I insisted they have more- it's applesauce. He said, do you know how much sugar is in this stuff? I said, no, I buy the no-sugar kind. This is the kind of thing that passes for an argument in our house. Good stuff. We are getting deep into it about whether the kind of sugar in fruit is identical to just spooning it out the sugar bowl, and whether applesauce is basically the same as fruit, blah, blah, blah, and Naomi, who has been amusing us for weeks with this song about some raw food item sitting on the railroad tracks feeling this and that, and around the bend comes number ten, Choo Choo, processed food (tomato becomes spaghetti sauce, banana becomes banana split), pipes up with a verse- Apple sits on the railroad track, feeling lonely and lost (or something, I don't know- that sounds too depressing for a kids' song?), Around the bend comes the Number 10, Choo Choo! Applesauce! Then she says, See? No sugar! Just applesauce! She is totally on my side.

Party!!

Today's post will be shorter and more boring than usual. Reasons: I cut my finger and have a big dumb bandaid on it, which is making typing a little weird. Also, I have a party to prepare for! Naomi turns four this Friday, and I am totally over planning and overdoing things in an effort to accommodate her jones for princess crap without technically giving in and doing a full princess whatever. So we're leaning toward "fairy tales," which gave me a lot of ideas, all of which I am attempting to enact, and you know that means trouble. Yes, I am in for it. So I have to get back to painting the beanstalk. Ha. Am I kidding or not?

Oh, and for Lent, I will be giving up Freecell. That's all I have lined up so far. Wish me luck.

Five Things Muriel Has Attempted to Eat in the Last Day

5. Store receipt.
4. Uncooked rice.
3. Blue marker.
2. Small notebook.
1. Unidentified Super Gross Object from our backyard that may have been a garden tomato, vintage summer 2008.

Oh Happy Day

First let me say that I cannot believe how good Jerry Lewis looks. Yes, I am watching the Oscars, only for a few minutes now, and not for much longer (Amazing Race, Amazing Race!). That is NOT what is making this a happy day...no. The happiness we feel today here in the Khooler household has everything to do with a certain guy who had... a birthday today! And since he is the only guy in the house, it's probably not hard to guess who I'm talking about.

In my family of origin, the birthday tradition, besides that you get to pick what Mom cooks for dinner and what kind of cake and ice cream you get, was my dad telling the story of when you were born. I like this tradition, and we have been doing it in our family, with the variation that I am likely going to be the storyteller, to save Jim from a thousand interruptions and interjections. So I asked about his birth story today, and here's what we got: he was born at 10 pm, or thereabouts, the doctor was British, and he popped out a moment after his mom got to the hospital. Come to think of it, I remember his mom telling me what an easy birth his had been.

In the morning, we went to Salty's for brunch with our friends. Yum! I let Naomi pick her own dessert (out of the ridiculous twenty choices), and she chose the chocolate mousse in a chocolate cup. It wasn't until she was halfway through the mousse that she realized the cup was also food, or, as she said, "Daddy, daddy, the cup is also for eating!" This was definitely the most chocolate she has ever had at one sitting. Woo!

I have to give myself a big hearty pat on the back for Jim's present. He is hard to buy for for two reasons. The main one is that he pretty much provides for himself. The secondary one is that he is an amazingly good guesser, so if I try to surprise him with something, for some reason, he manages to guess every time. Crazy making! This time I bought him a super rad retro track jacket with his favorite FIFA team- Deutschland! Hee. He didn't guess. Woo!

We are grateful Jim was born. Thanks, Universe! Anyway, it's his birthday, he wants the computer back, so, time to sign off. Have a great week!

Get a Move On

Maybe it's because I feel like I have been sick for a hundred years (only two weeks), and haven't been exercising at all, and haven't been doing much of anything, but I have started to develop this notion that it is time for me to take on some new thing, some new physical activity. I have this feeling of yearning, almost, for that feeling when you are engaging your whole physical self in an activity, and your body is becoming conditioned to it, though still tired out by it. It can be a sport (though it's been a long time since I played any team sports- twelve years?), or a single-person activity, like going on a long bike ride, or even having one of those back-breaking yard work days (or Habitat for Humanity days, though it's been a while for that, too).

I don't know what it's going to be- more running, more yoga? Maybe. But I think it would be good to find something new to try. If you have something you do that you would like to recommend, I am all ears. When this cold is over, I am raring to go.

Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

If this movie quote sounds familiar to you, then maybe you were one of the many who watched Spies Like Us a hundred years ago. Or maybe you started watching it some recent forlorn weekend night on Netflix's "Watch Instantly" joint, until your husband fell asleep and the battery on your laptop ran out of juice. Not that I know anyone who falls into that category.

Today I went to the doctor, not to be outdone by my perfectly healthy (or, only slightly erkaeltet) (erkaeltet is a German word that means stricken by a cold- good word, right?) toddler. I have had a cold for a week and a half, but it has the unique feature of a super sore throat that will not go away. Usually that action abates after the first day or so. And we have health insurance, so why not prop up the economy with another co-pay?

The doctor I see regularly (though I wouldn't call it that) I chose based on the location of the office, which is not too far from our house. I kind of liked the first doctor I had there, but then after a long break from medical needs, when I went back, she was gone. So they shuffled me to a new one, who is actually a physician's assistant, but perfectly adequate for the kind of stuff I usually need to visit a doctor for. She seems nice enough. But today when I went in, and had my throat rather briskly swabbed by the nurse, the PA lady said, well, the rapid strep test was negative, but we'll send it off for culture, and in the meantime, I'll call in some antiobiotics.

Really? What could it be if it's not strep? She implied that it's some kind of bacteria, so I may as well get going on the treatment. Um, OK. I guess. The whole interaction with the doctor, or PA, was probably between forty-five seconds and two minutes. I am all for efficiency, but she asked me about my symptoms and then made me open my mouth for a look before I could finish talking. And she didn't tell me what looking at my tonsils made her think of. Leaving me to consider how I look if I say, tell me, Doctor, what do my tonsils make you think of? I never had the chance!

So, doctors of the world, I am on a two-post tear (I promise to let it go after this one)... I am very happy with my kids' doctor, but I am thinking it would not be such a bad thing if I could find a doctor for myself that I really like. I may be a little spoiled by the pediatrician experience, and for that matter the midwife experience, because when you see a doctor fairly regularly, you at least have the impression of some kind of relationship with them. Not so with the local antibiotic dispensary...

And because I keep hearing from my sisters, who, though older than I am, are not THAT much older than I am, about their many many rigorous checkups and ensuing follow up tests and what not. And if I am in line for that kind of stuff, which I guess I am, wouldn't it be best if I had a doctor on deck that I could at least pretend to have some kind of relationship with? Who wants to team with me to actively manage my health, or whatever is said on this subject? Or do I just have to wait until I'm in the nursing home for that?

Do you have a doctor for your own grown-up self that you like? One that at least pretends to remember you from previous visits? How did you find this doctor? Did you luck into it? Or do you have a method for finding a good primary care physician? Do tell...

Oh, for Pete's Sake

The last time I had Muriel in for a regular checkup, she had infected ears (of course), but not terribly so, and our beloved regular doctor told me that we should monitor her, and if she seemed worse, get her ears looked at again and maybe go for some antibiotics. We did, she didn't, we didn't.

When Muriel woke up in the middle of the night last night, feverish and miserable, after a week of low-grade cold symptoms, it occurred to me that maybe it would be good to keep her home from school and take her in to get her ears checked, as our doctor is constantly advising us to do. I know I have written before about how normally I wait too long to take my sick kids to the doctor, such that when I get there the doctor gives me signs to look for that will mean I have to rush them across the big lake to the Children's Hospital. So this time, I decided to be a little more proactive.

Except that of course we didn't get our regular doctor, we got whatever doctor they had. And he looked in her ears and told me that she had a little fluid, which is consistent with having a cold. He said that if she had an ear infection, she would be waking up at all hours, miserable, etc. He didn't come out and say, seriously, why did you bring this perky, happy little child in to the doctor's office (she was busying around with the books, evincing not a trace of illness, naturally)? But it was hanging there in the air.

But! But! I am not the parent that brings a kid in for nothing! I have had ear infected kids! They don't always tug on their ears or say, ow, my ears, or wake up in the night crying from it. Both kids are champs at getting infected ears and just keeping mum. At which point, of course, the infection spreads to their lungs and the doctor instructs me to watch how their chest moves when they breathe to make sure they do not need to be rushed straight to the hospital. Wait, I already said that!

I know a lot of people would have plenty to criticize in the way I parent my kids. They are likely right about many things. And about others? Different strokes for different folks. It doesn't really bother me. But there is something about a doctor's opinion that gets to me, effortlessly. I wonder if it will be this way with teachers, too? I guess I am susceptible to authority figures?

This does reinforce for me that our regular doctor is as good as we think she is. Unfortunately, everyone else thinks so too, and getting an appointment with her is well-nigh impossible. I guess I'll have to start predicting illnesses months in advance...

Limbically Overprotective

It seems like maybe I have written here before about the thing I read a while back regarding parenting styles...but I can't remember. So I'll just write about it again. I read in this brain development book, the name of which did not stay lodged in my own personal brain, that how our parents parent us actually becomes part of the structure of our brains. The term "limbic system" lingers hazily- I think the style of parenting we get actually gets coded into this system. So when we in turn become parents, we have an inescapable tendency to do it exactly as it was done to us.

This can be terrible, in the case of kids who were treated badly, or it can be great, in the case of kids whose parents really had it right. Usually it's somewhere in between, of course. I love this anecdote in that section of the book, about how in France people are WILD about babies and kids, where instead of rolling their eyes when a family with kids enters the restaurant, they smile and go over and ask if they can hold the baby. Who knows if this is true. But the point was that it is reinforced in each generation by the parenting experiences, and community experiences, received by Les Enfants. And when you think about it, no matter how wrapped up American parents get in their own kids, the public at large over here does seem to have a fairly intolerant view of children. I know I did, before becoming saddled with them. Ha.

Anyway, this is a lot of front matter for the topic I have been thinking about this week, which may sound unrelated at first: videos. We are a family with very little video watching. Wait, that is patently untrue. We are a family in which the little ones do very little video watching. Almost none. They both watched the presidential and vice presidential debates (not closely, but you know). They have seen some of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. They watched the inauguration, or a bit of it. They have seen many of the songs in The Sound of Music (when Naomi was smaller, she feared the goatherd puppets, but Muriel cannot get enough of them), and a few in The Little Mermaid. Naomi has seen The Wizard of Oz. They have seen probably two episodes of some PBS show or other. That's about it, I think. Oh, some youtube movies of old School House Rock cartoons, and the weird "Teaser and Firecat" video for Cat Stevens' Moonshadow. I think I have covered it all.

Now, occasionally, when we pick Naomi up from her preschool, which is "Montessori-inspired" and kind of all that, she and her homies are parked in front of a video. I am not all up in arms about this- I am sure they are not watching Friday the Thirteenth or anything. They watch movies that are ostensibly for kids, like the Rugrats something or other, and Ants, to name two recent ones. But I didn't expect, when I drifted into THE EXACT SAME EXTREME SHIELDING BEHAVIOR that my own mother practiced on me, that it would be her preschool that would offer the alternative. I thought we would work up to a healthy level of media consumption for her, and try to make it no big deal, but still have some say over what she sees.

What on earth am I trying to protect my precious little ones from? Lots, really, but straight up (yes, I have been watching AI): We try not to be mean and sarcastic in our house (er, in front of the kids). Frequently, kids in shows and characters in kids' shows are mean and sarcastic. Even the "heroes" of the shows. Even in little kids shows. And there HAVE to be bad guys. Which I get, that's the grand narrative, good vs. evil, but if you didn't know how to be mean or be bad, and then you got to watch a bunch of grasshoppers be mean and bad to a bunch of ants, well, now you do know!

I do not have to re-read that last paragraph to know I sound like a crazy person. There is plenty of good programming out there that is super kid-appropriate, and when Muriel clears the AAP no-screen-time recommended age, there will be much more relaxed attitudes about media consumption, I guess. I don't want them to be the TV-starved nerd I was, who would rather watch TV than do any other fun things when I visited friends with more lax viewership rules. It is on me to research some videos that they can enjoy without having their precious preciousness besmirched or whatever. But really, at preschool....maybe they could just put some Sesame Street in the DVD? Is that too much to ask? I'm thinking about asking.

Tiny Little Thing

It is a bad idea to wait until the very end of the night and have absolutely nothing in mind when you sit down to try to fulfill your pledge. Yikes. All I can think of a story that is so sweet to me, yet will probably be right over the edge into the treacle pond for you. But whatever.

Naomi and I say the same prayer every night, where we think about what we are thankful for during the day that has just ended. I tend to contribute most of the things. Lately she has been saying weird stuff, like, thank you for all the people in wheelchairs (?). I think she's praying for them, not being thankful for them, but what do I know? Anyway, I am coming off a fairly bad cold, and just starting to feel better, and last night when we prayed, she said the thing she was thankful for was that I was feeling better. Aw!

I know it sounds like I am giving her an awful lot of credit for a small gesture, but it's more than just that she evinced some concern for me. She is thinking more, putting things together more. Watching little brains grow right before your eyes is definitely a perk of parenthood...

I Am a Pizza

Naomi learned a song at school that seems to be stuck in her head but good, and she's been singing it for two weeks (when she's not singing "A You're Adorable"). It goes a little something like this: I am a pizza, I am a pizza, with extra cheese, with extra cheese, rock tomatoes, rock tomatoes, sausage please, sausage please.

I am not sure what the real line is for the rock tomatoes part. Anybody know this song? The best part is that she'll be minding her own business, playing around in the other room, whatever, and all of a sudden I'll hear a resounding chorus... "I AM A PIZZA, I AM A PIZZA!"

I was telling my friend the other day that I am thinking of having a t-shirt made for Muriel that says "I Do That!" That is her big sentence, which I like for a few reasons. One, check her out with her complete sentence, more or less. Two, check her out with her pronoun or whatever that is in that sentence. Third, she says it all the time, I mean fifty times a day, because she wants to do EVERYTHING. Whatever she sees someone doing, she is ready to to give it a go. I envision us having that lecture with some future her where we say "If the cool kids all said they were going to jump off a cliff, would you do it?" and having her say, "I do that! I do that!"

Although my friend pointed out that if we are lucky, Naomi will be a big giant nerd of some variety or other, and Muriel will trail along behind her joining the marching band and going to poetry slams or whatever. I am a pizza with extra cheese! Fingers crossed!

A Squared Plus B Squared...

I know you have been wondering how my gig as the head Sunday school teacher went. What? You weren't? You haven't been thinking about it all weekend?

Well, it went OK. I read through the lesson plan about fifty times Saturday night. This month the theme is parables, and this week's parable is the one where the woman loses a coin, searches her whole house, lights a lamp, sweeps the floor, finally finds it, then calls her friends and has a party. There are always art project type activities, and I went with the coin rubbing option (fun, right?) and didn't do any preparation for the alternative (the coin headband), because it involved glitter glue, which I don't have, and punching out the coins from the class materials, which I didn't have, because they're in the Sunday school room.

But the coin rubbing thing did NOT go well. The kids barely got circles out of their rubbings. They thought it was boring. And because I didn't get there early enough, I didn't get to punch out and assemble the other class materials. So the cute little booklet they normally get didn't go home with them.

On the plus side, the assistant brought excellent snack: slices of cheddar cheese, apple slices, and Ritz crackers. That took the kids a good long time to eat. The part where I read them the actual story, with coin counting went well. We sang a song with movements (lighting a lamp, sweeping a floor, finding the coin, calling our friends), then we all passed the coin around and whoever had it, we said their name and said they were important to God.

Of course, this is the kind of tricky part. The whole point of the coin story is that even though there are billions of people, when even one turns to God, or returns to God, there is celebration in Heaven. We are each that special to God. And this is a sticky point in my own admittedly shaky theology. This is not the space to untangle things, no doubt, and I don't feel weird telling three and four year olds that they are important to God. I don't know. It kind of reminded me of when I was substitute teacher in a math class and taught a bunch of high school students the pythagorean theorem. It wasn't my specialty, but we worked it out.

Happy Presidents Day!

Let Me Call You Sweetheart...

For any readers that were not also high school compatriots of mine, did your high school also have that thing where on Valentine's day the choir kids came around and delivered singing telegrams? You could get "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," or "Friendship, Friendship, Such a Perfect Blendship," (I don't actually know if there's a title to that one, but I know it was on "I Love Lucy") and then one for the teachers that maybe was an original composition. The teacher one was kind of insulting, mentioned the teacher being stupid and mean, and dressing badly. Classy!

I can't remember now whether the carnations were a separate deal- I think they were. I think you could buy a carnation for a dollar or something like that, and you got to write the tag, and someone (Interact? The Letterman's Club? Student Council?) bought and delivered the measly carnations. I'm sure the teachers LOVED Valentine's Day, what with all the singing telegrams and carnation deliveries and insane mylar balloons (I'm looking at you, T. B.!). I loved it, that's for sure. I always managed to squeak out a carnation. What's not to love?

When I was a kid, I remember being amazed when I would get up on Valentine's Day and find some kind of very unexpected decorations, and at dinner, a cake! With pink frosting! It wasn't a big deal, but it was sweet. I think it is thanks to my mom that I have always liked Valentine's Day, and I think of it as a fun day to let everyone you love know it. Not that I haven't exerted undue pressure on actual sweethearts of long ago to stage a proper display. But you know, for the most part, it's not like that.

So, our Valentine's Day? Last night Jim made me a wonderful dinner, after the girls went to bed. It was tasty, and fun, and thrilling to eat food entirely with utensils, not having to share it and not having sticky fingers. We should do that more often! Today I gave the girls these heart owl pillows I made (the design for which I totally ripped off from Target- I would have bought them, Target, but you only had them in January and I wasn't allowed to buy anything that month!), and we had heart-shaped muffins. And tonight we went to our dear friends' house for some pizza and heart shaped jello jigglers. If you haven't had jello in a while, I recommend the strawberry banana...

Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day! And love to you from the Khoolers...