If you know where I live (in a friend-type way, not a stalker type way) and you can get here by this evening, come on over, we're planning to try out the doughnut machine we got for Christmas and could use some help consuming the results of our experiments.
I'll also be making my secret recipe hot cocoa (I'll totally show you how to make it) so come on by!
Leave me a comment if you're coming so I'll know if I should change out of my jammies before we get the party started.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Well, here we are
Our Christmas rush is almost through. We have a party with my family this afternoon, a party which involves sledding.
I don't so much want to go sledding. Cold is really not my thing and being as how I don't have any boots or snow pants and, will thus be participating in my sneakers and jeans, cold will be unavoidable. I could opt out of the sledding part of the day were it not for the resolution I made to spend more time doing active-outdoor type activities with my kids.
Resolutions, I hate those things.
We made it through the drive up with only one unexpected barfing. We forgot to bring a bucket but luckily Enzo's car seat is slightly reclined so all of the icky goo was collected on his own chest which made for easy clean-up.
We spent a day rushing around buying last minute gifts. Another rushing from party to party, to party, a party for every meal on Christmas eve. And a third sitting contentedly in the house while the world grew whiter and fluffier around us.
Christmas was the mellowest day we've had in weeks.
Zizza's congratulating her grandma on her exceptional icicle cultivating skills,
The Mr is outside shoveling and throwing out his back, Enzo is reading "Goodnight Gorliia" the New One is sleeping away the morning as is her habit, the dog is shivering and cursing the day we brought him to this awful cold white place, and I am realizing that the mellow is done, there's a whirlwind waiting and it;s time I got up and faced it.
I don't so much want to go sledding. Cold is really not my thing and being as how I don't have any boots or snow pants and, will thus be participating in my sneakers and jeans, cold will be unavoidable. I could opt out of the sledding part of the day were it not for the resolution I made to spend more time doing active-outdoor type activities with my kids.
Resolutions, I hate those things.
We made it through the drive up with only one unexpected barfing. We forgot to bring a bucket but luckily Enzo's car seat is slightly reclined so all of the icky goo was collected on his own chest which made for easy clean-up.
We spent a day rushing around buying last minute gifts. Another rushing from party to party, to party, a party for every meal on Christmas eve. And a third sitting contentedly in the house while the world grew whiter and fluffier around us.
Christmas was the mellowest day we've had in weeks.
Zizza's congratulating her grandma on her exceptional icicle cultivating skills,
The Mr is outside shoveling and throwing out his back, Enzo is reading "Goodnight Gorliia" the New One is sleeping away the morning as is her habit, the dog is shivering and cursing the day we brought him to this awful cold white place, and I am realizing that the mellow is done, there's a whirlwind waiting and it;s time I got up and faced it.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Enough with the puke already!
It would seem I need to create a whole category here for vomit related posts.
That's right. It happened again tonight.
We were at Panda Express, the favorite of both my children. I was waiting at the table with Enzo when, out of nowhere, he started the tell tale gagging cough.
This time I caught it in my bare hands. Lucky it wasn't more than a handful.
There I stood with my prize an no one around to help but my Zizza. "Run and tell Pop (who was in line) that Baby Brother threw up" I instructed.
Meanwhile, I shook my hands off into the near by garbage can. I had wipes but they were deep in my bag and no way was I reaching my wretched on hands in there to find them. At any other restaurant there would be a stack of napkins somewhere near by, not Panda. They are stingy with the napkins there. They give you one per person with your order and that's it. If you want more you have to go back to the counter and ask. We always ask for a few extras up front but since we hadn't made it that far yet, I was napkin less.
Zizza came back from relaying my message, the Mr's response was to look at me and shrug. Helpful. (In his defense I don't think he knew my fingers were dripping with stomach acid)
Just then, a Panda employee came out to wipe down tables, ah salvation!
"Excuse me" I said. "can I get a, a...something?" (as the boy begins to wretch again)
She was back in a flash with a whole roll of paper towels off which she had kindly ripped a fistful for my immediate use.
She left me the roll in case I needed it and I sat there holding my hands in the air away from my body and as far from my nose as possible until the Mr could relieve me of my child supervision duties so I could wash them five times over in the bathroom.
All the while Zizza begged "Can I have apple juice? I would like apple juice for a drink, are we getting apple juice" and I said to her "Do I look like I can buy you apple juice? If you want juice you need to talk to Pop, right now my only job is to sit here not touching anything" and she would say "But can I have some apple juice?" We had this exchange at least five times.
In case you wondered, yes, I was able to eat my food when I got it. I have what you might call an iron stomach(when I'm not pregnant).
Enzo, taking after his sister, seemed to feel just fine after his gastronomic demonstration and proceeded to eat three plates full (You know the little ones for egg rolls and such) of steamed rice.
He never gave up trying to snitch orange chicken off my plate either. I had to pay close attention the whole time. If I let my guard down, even for a second, I'd turn back to find a plump little hand sneaking a fork onto my plate.
Seriously folks, what is the deal with this? People who puke are supposed to be sick. They are not supposed to want orange chicken five minutes after the fact, not unless they're preggers any way.
I pray that we wont have any of these surprise vomit attacks during our coming drive. I think we'd better take a bucket along just in case though.
That's right. It happened again tonight.
We were at Panda Express, the favorite of both my children. I was waiting at the table with Enzo when, out of nowhere, he started the tell tale gagging cough.
This time I caught it in my bare hands. Lucky it wasn't more than a handful.
There I stood with my prize an no one around to help but my Zizza. "Run and tell Pop (who was in line) that Baby Brother threw up" I instructed.
Meanwhile, I shook my hands off into the near by garbage can. I had wipes but they were deep in my bag and no way was I reaching my wretched on hands in there to find them. At any other restaurant there would be a stack of napkins somewhere near by, not Panda. They are stingy with the napkins there. They give you one per person with your order and that's it. If you want more you have to go back to the counter and ask. We always ask for a few extras up front but since we hadn't made it that far yet, I was napkin less.
Zizza came back from relaying my message, the Mr's response was to look at me and shrug. Helpful. (In his defense I don't think he knew my fingers were dripping with stomach acid)
Just then, a Panda employee came out to wipe down tables, ah salvation!
"Excuse me" I said. "can I get a, a...something?" (as the boy begins to wretch again)
She was back in a flash with a whole roll of paper towels off which she had kindly ripped a fistful for my immediate use.
She left me the roll in case I needed it and I sat there holding my hands in the air away from my body and as far from my nose as possible until the Mr could relieve me of my child supervision duties so I could wash them five times over in the bathroom.
All the while Zizza begged "Can I have apple juice? I would like apple juice for a drink, are we getting apple juice" and I said to her "Do I look like I can buy you apple juice? If you want juice you need to talk to Pop, right now my only job is to sit here not touching anything" and she would say "But can I have some apple juice?" We had this exchange at least five times.
In case you wondered, yes, I was able to eat my food when I got it. I have what you might call an iron stomach(when I'm not pregnant).
Enzo, taking after his sister, seemed to feel just fine after his gastronomic demonstration and proceeded to eat three plates full (You know the little ones for egg rolls and such) of steamed rice.
He never gave up trying to snitch orange chicken off my plate either. I had to pay close attention the whole time. If I let my guard down, even for a second, I'd turn back to find a plump little hand sneaking a fork onto my plate.
Seriously folks, what is the deal with this? People who puke are supposed to be sick. They are not supposed to want orange chicken five minutes after the fact, not unless they're preggers any way.
I pray that we wont have any of these surprise vomit attacks during our coming drive. I think we'd better take a bucket along just in case though.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A little bit of yuck
What is it about vomit that makes such great blog fodder?
Every time one of my kids starts blowing chunks I have the essay written out in my head by the time I'm finished cleaning it up. I don't always post these jewels, but I always, always, compose them.
It's coping mechanism, I think. If I can think of a way spin the situation into something funny, or even just mildly entertaining, even as I'm dealing with the gross reality it becomes easier to bear.
That being said...
Monday morning dawned bright and clear. It was a day we all look forward to, Dog Grooming day.
On grooming days The Mr drops the pup at the dog wash in the morning before going in to work.
The rest of us get up, dress and follow them in to town. We run errands, meet up with our Mr for lunch and then pick up a clean fluffy dog. These are good days.
Monday morning Zizza came down and laid in my bed while I styled my hair. She got up and went into the toilet/tub portion of the bathroom. I heard choking. "You ok babe?" I called to her. "I'm going to throw up" was the reply I both expected and got. I opened the door and found her sitting on the toilet rather than leaning over it. This concerned me. I couldn't yank her off and turn her around. If her tummy's upset and threatening spillage on either end, the bottom end is the one I want on the toilet. I would have to find an alternate receptacle for the spew.
I flung open the cabinet door, hoping against hope that the cleaning bucket was in there. It wasn't I knew it wasn't but I'd looked anyway on the chance I was wrong.
I didn't find the bucket I was seeking but I did find salvation from mopping vomit off my floor. There, in the back of the cabinet were the hair clippers, clippers stored in a rubbermaid container. Another gagging noise erupted from the throat of my four year old and I plucked that rubbermaid from it's cozy corner and dumped the contents none too gently on the floor.
I was just in time.
Thing is, after all that drama with the bucket she hardly even puked. I actually wondered if she was just testing herself to see if she could do it.
She was chipper as could be once she finished, ate breakfast, ran around, made me fear for my sanity should she take a fancy to faking sick.
So, I took her out that day even in spite of the vomiting, and we had a lovely time.
Every time one of my kids starts blowing chunks I have the essay written out in my head by the time I'm finished cleaning it up. I don't always post these jewels, but I always, always, compose them.
It's coping mechanism, I think. If I can think of a way spin the situation into something funny, or even just mildly entertaining, even as I'm dealing with the gross reality it becomes easier to bear.
That being said...
Monday morning dawned bright and clear. It was a day we all look forward to, Dog Grooming day.
On grooming days The Mr drops the pup at the dog wash in the morning before going in to work.
The rest of us get up, dress and follow them in to town. We run errands, meet up with our Mr for lunch and then pick up a clean fluffy dog. These are good days.
Monday morning Zizza came down and laid in my bed while I styled my hair. She got up and went into the toilet/tub portion of the bathroom. I heard choking. "You ok babe?" I called to her. "I'm going to throw up" was the reply I both expected and got. I opened the door and found her sitting on the toilet rather than leaning over it. This concerned me. I couldn't yank her off and turn her around. If her tummy's upset and threatening spillage on either end, the bottom end is the one I want on the toilet. I would have to find an alternate receptacle for the spew.
I flung open the cabinet door, hoping against hope that the cleaning bucket was in there. It wasn't I knew it wasn't but I'd looked anyway on the chance I was wrong.
I didn't find the bucket I was seeking but I did find salvation from mopping vomit off my floor. There, in the back of the cabinet were the hair clippers, clippers stored in a rubbermaid container. Another gagging noise erupted from the throat of my four year old and I plucked that rubbermaid from it's cozy corner and dumped the contents none too gently on the floor.
I was just in time.
Thing is, after all that drama with the bucket she hardly even puked. I actually wondered if she was just testing herself to see if she could do it.
She was chipper as could be once she finished, ate breakfast, ran around, made me fear for my sanity should she take a fancy to faking sick.
So, I took her out that day even in spite of the vomiting, and we had a lovely time.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Scrub a dub dub
My Tiny Enzo boy loves the bath. He always has loved it. It's nice that he's big enough now I can go in the other room while he plays in the bath, so long as I'm within ear shot.
Tonight a weird thing happened. He actually got tired of the bath and wanted to get out before I deemed it necessary. I don't think that's ever happened before. Sure, a time or two he's climbed out himself and come running to find me dripping and naked, but to stand there in the tub, calling for me to come and end the bath is really unheard of.
I went in to get him out and... I don't know if I should tell you, but I'm going to. Take a deep breath and get ready for it folks, this is unpleasant. The toilet brush was in the bath tub with him. I guess our actual bath toys just weren't cutting the mustard last night.
He did not appreciate the scrubbing I gave him next. He didn't appreciate it at all. In fact, even after he was clean, dry and diapered he continued to voice his displeasure. He went right on voicing it until I showed him his new dinosaur jammies. After a look at that dino he stopped the crying and started roaring. Then his pop got in on it and he was a happy boy again.
It took a little more than that to make me a happy mama again. A little more by way of a healthy amount of Clorox and some tub-ward elbow grease.
Tonight a weird thing happened. He actually got tired of the bath and wanted to get out before I deemed it necessary. I don't think that's ever happened before. Sure, a time or two he's climbed out himself and come running to find me dripping and naked, but to stand there in the tub, calling for me to come and end the bath is really unheard of.
I went in to get him out and... I don't know if I should tell you, but I'm going to. Take a deep breath and get ready for it folks, this is unpleasant. The toilet brush was in the bath tub with him. I guess our actual bath toys just weren't cutting the mustard last night.
He did not appreciate the scrubbing I gave him next. He didn't appreciate it at all. In fact, even after he was clean, dry and diapered he continued to voice his displeasure. He went right on voicing it until I showed him his new dinosaur jammies. After a look at that dino he stopped the crying and started roaring. Then his pop got in on it and he was a happy boy again.
It took a little more than that to make me a happy mama again. A little more by way of a healthy amount of Clorox and some tub-ward elbow grease.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
This is why I don't generally clean.
For the past six to eight weeks I've listened to Zizza sing "Winter Wonderland" and "Rockin'Around the Christmas Tree" when I picked her up after her dance lesson. She wouldn't show me the dance though, she was under strict orders from her teacher not to spoil the surprise.
The week finally came. I took her to practice 3 days in a row leading up to the big day. She fretted over my not having made her skirts yet, and I assured her they were a five minute job. Here's the thing though, If, in a massive sewing room clean-up extravaganza, you accidentally throw out the pre-cut skirts you were provided, that adds a lot of time to the project total.
I was finally setting out to make the skirts on Thursday morning when I found the bag of skirt bits had gone missing. After thirty minutes or so of searching the house I established that the bag had been mixed up in the trash and threw the children in the car for a last minute run to Joann for new materials.
Luckily the two colors of foil-dot lame I needed were still in stock, as were the red and black 1 inch grosgrain ribbons. We made it in and out of there in record time. I did have to rudely assert my place in line with an older woman at the cutting counter who was not accustomed to the new-ish "take a number" service approach, but I was racing the clock to get the Girl back in time for Joy School and had no time for niceties with senior citizens.
Actually, what happened is, I was hurrying along and hopped right up to the counter, with a confident "Seventy seven?" as soon as I noticed the cutting lady approaching the counter after putting the bolts from number seventy six's order on the return rack. Then I noticed the "wasn't it my turn?" look on the woman's face and felt sort of bad but I'd already claimed my place in line, so that was that. Still I want the record to show that had that woman known to take a number when she approached the counter, she would have been after me in line anyway. I was totally there first.
Anyway, I got what I needed, fed the Girl lunch in the car, and delivered her to Joy School 15 minutes late, oh well.
Edited to add
I found the bag with the pre-cut dance skirts in it. Where? Hanging on the back of my sewing chair. It had been hidden by a number of the Mr's shirts which I had ironed during my cleaning extravaganza and draped carefully over the chair back owing the the lack of hangers in the room.
Too bad I didn't get around to putting those shirts away a little sooner.
The week finally came. I took her to practice 3 days in a row leading up to the big day. She fretted over my not having made her skirts yet, and I assured her they were a five minute job. Here's the thing though, If, in a massive sewing room clean-up extravaganza, you accidentally throw out the pre-cut skirts you were provided, that adds a lot of time to the project total.
I was finally setting out to make the skirts on Thursday morning when I found the bag of skirt bits had gone missing. After thirty minutes or so of searching the house I established that the bag had been mixed up in the trash and threw the children in the car for a last minute run to Joann for new materials.
Luckily the two colors of foil-dot lame I needed were still in stock, as were the red and black 1 inch grosgrain ribbons. We made it in and out of there in record time. I did have to rudely assert my place in line with an older woman at the cutting counter who was not accustomed to the new-ish "take a number" service approach, but I was racing the clock to get the Girl back in time for Joy School and had no time for niceties with senior citizens.
Actually, what happened is, I was hurrying along and hopped right up to the counter, with a confident "Seventy seven?" as soon as I noticed the cutting lady approaching the counter after putting the bolts from number seventy six's order on the return rack. Then I noticed the "wasn't it my turn?" look on the woman's face and felt sort of bad but I'd already claimed my place in line, so that was that. Still I want the record to show that had that woman known to take a number when she approached the counter, she would have been after me in line anyway. I was totally there first.
Anyway, I got what I needed, fed the Girl lunch in the car, and delivered her to Joy School 15 minutes late, oh well.
Edited to add
I found the bag with the pre-cut dance skirts in it. Where? Hanging on the back of my sewing chair. It had been hidden by a number of the Mr's shirts which I had ironed during my cleaning extravaganza and draped carefully over the chair back owing the the lack of hangers in the room.
Too bad I didn't get around to putting those shirts away a little sooner.
Dancing Girl
Zizza had her first ever Dance recital last Friday. You may remember her starting Ballet last January and think that's a long time to carry on with no recital. What happened is, after 3 or so lessons last winter, we decided she'd enjoy it more if she waited until fall to get started. Turns out we were right.
The recital was fantastic. She danced better than I'd seen her all week. Something about having an audience there made her focus. Her eyes never left her teacher, who danced at the back of the room the whole time so the girls could follow along.
What a proud mama I was watching her. I'd like to tell you whether or not she was the best one but I had my zoom lens trained on her the whole time so I honestly didn't see any of the other girls.
Sad thing though, my camera setting got bumped without me noticing and I was holding a very wriggly Enzo on my hip so none of my pictures turned out. Nice.
Look at how heart breaking this is.
That would have been a killer shot if, a; I knew how to use my camera and, b; I wasn't restraining a little boy who wanted nothing more than to run screaming to the front of the room and attack the stereo while I took the photo.
After Zizza's numbers were over and I took my seat, Enz discovered that he loves, loves, to scream into my hand. I clapped it over his mouth myself a time or two and then he relieved me of the responsibility and spent the remainder of the event squashing his face into my palm as he screamed. I think everyone was glad we were there.
At least she was glad.
She was also glad that her Pop brought her flowers, they were bigger than she was.
He always has had a problem with practicality when shopping for his girls, not that any of us are complaining.
P.S. Zizza refused to wear her ballet slippers in the recital because they are pink. "Pink doesn't match anything else in my outfit, Mama" she told me. And I nearly burst with pride.
The recital was fantastic. She danced better than I'd seen her all week. Something about having an audience there made her focus. Her eyes never left her teacher, who danced at the back of the room the whole time so the girls could follow along.
What a proud mama I was watching her. I'd like to tell you whether or not she was the best one but I had my zoom lens trained on her the whole time so I honestly didn't see any of the other girls.
Sad thing though, my camera setting got bumped without me noticing and I was holding a very wriggly Enzo on my hip so none of my pictures turned out. Nice.
Look at how heart breaking this is.
That would have been a killer shot if, a; I knew how to use my camera and, b; I wasn't restraining a little boy who wanted nothing more than to run screaming to the front of the room and attack the stereo while I took the photo.
After Zizza's numbers were over and I took my seat, Enz discovered that he loves, loves, to scream into my hand. I clapped it over his mouth myself a time or two and then he relieved me of the responsibility and spent the remainder of the event squashing his face into my palm as he screamed. I think everyone was glad we were there.
At least she was glad.
She was also glad that her Pop brought her flowers, they were bigger than she was.
He always has had a problem with practicality when shopping for his girls, not that any of us are complaining.
P.S. Zizza refused to wear her ballet slippers in the recital because they are pink. "Pink doesn't match anything else in my outfit, Mama" she told me. And I nearly burst with pride.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tradition
We made these again last night.
This year Enzo is big enough to "help"
When Zizza was just over two she unwrapped hugs and put them obediently in the bowl, eating only the few we granted permission for. At just a few months under two Enz ate every candy placed within his reach.
How much of this has to do with the months age difference and how much is the difference in the children, do you think?
Zizza took her responsibilities very seriously. She's an old pro at this now, it's her third year on the job. She even gave me a few pointers.
Then Enzo ate up the broken pretzels while Zizza and I placed the hugs on their unbroken brothers...and I didn't take any photos of the finished product. They look the same as they did last year. Check that link up yonder if you want to see.
This year Enzo is big enough to "help"
When Zizza was just over two she unwrapped hugs and put them obediently in the bowl, eating only the few we granted permission for. At just a few months under two Enz ate every candy placed within his reach.
How much of this has to do with the months age difference and how much is the difference in the children, do you think?
Zizza took her responsibilities very seriously. She's an old pro at this now, it's her third year on the job. She even gave me a few pointers.
Then Enzo ate up the broken pretzels while Zizza and I placed the hugs on their unbroken brothers...and I didn't take any photos of the finished product. They look the same as they did last year. Check that link up yonder if you want to see.
Soup with stars, please
On Saturday I looked in the refrigerator and noticed something. It was a massive hunk of foil, sitting there filling most of the main shelf. It was almost as though it had been there forever, so long I'd stopped seeing it when I stared into the abyss wondering what to fix for dinner.
It hadn't though. Been there forever that is.
It had only been there since Thanksgiving. Granted, that is a pretty long time for a thing to hang out in a refrigerator.
I didn't throw it out though. No sir, or mam. See, turkey bones only come around so often and when they do you've got to fix them up right or you'll be sorry. Sorry to miss out on the deliciousness that is Turkey soup with home made noodles.
I made the soup on Sunday. It was a last minute whim that led to the star shaped noodles. I have a set of different sized star cookie cutters, and plain old straight noodles sounded so blah.
The stars were a raging success. On Monday around the time I usually start the abysmal stare I mentioned before, Zizza came into the kitchen and asked, no, begged. "Please mama, please can we have left overs for dinner?"
True story.
So we had left overs and they were delightful. We had leftovers again for lunch the next day and dinner tonight. Every time it's been served the soup has been well received. I think I'll use those cookie cutters more often. I shouldn't give them all the credit though, it was my best turkey frame soup to date.
It hadn't though. Been there forever that is.
It had only been there since Thanksgiving. Granted, that is a pretty long time for a thing to hang out in a refrigerator.
I didn't throw it out though. No sir, or mam. See, turkey bones only come around so often and when they do you've got to fix them up right or you'll be sorry. Sorry to miss out on the deliciousness that is Turkey soup with home made noodles.
I made the soup on Sunday. It was a last minute whim that led to the star shaped noodles. I have a set of different sized star cookie cutters, and plain old straight noodles sounded so blah.
The stars were a raging success. On Monday around the time I usually start the abysmal stare I mentioned before, Zizza came into the kitchen and asked, no, begged. "Please mama, please can we have left overs for dinner?"
True story.
So we had left overs and they were delightful. We had leftovers again for lunch the next day and dinner tonight. Every time it's been served the soup has been well received. I think I'll use those cookie cutters more often. I shouldn't give them all the credit though, it was my best turkey frame soup to date.
delightful
This came in the mail the other day.
After my last bathing-related post I poked around online a little more and found a listing on e-bay. Six glorious bottles, all mine.
While I was out this evening, the Mr bathed all three children in that magical stuff. I've just made the rounds, sniffing each sleeping babe. It was wonderful.
After my last bathing-related post I poked around online a little more and found a listing on e-bay. Six glorious bottles, all mine.
While I was out this evening, the Mr bathed all three children in that magical stuff. I've just made the rounds, sniffing each sleeping babe. It was wonderful.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Just realized I sent them to bed with un-brushed teeth. oops.
I took all of the children with teeth to the dentist today. Actually, I took the one without teeth too but she didn't get an exam.
If you'd been at my house in the hours leading up to the visit you would have thought I was taking them to Disney Land.
Zizza was soooo excited. "Do you know what my favorite part is mom? It's drawing Butterflies" (magna-doodles are furnished at each exam chair for the patients doodling pleasure) She talked my ear off about the drawing. Also, she described in detail the tooth shaped stools in the waiting room play area. She wondered aloud what kind of toothbrush she would get and which prize she would choose.
She explained to her brother all that would happen and how the Dentist would tickle his gums with the tooth brush and then, he could choose a bouncy ball like hers from the prize center. She took the responsibility of the older more experienced child very seriously. I think the only thing she forgot about her first visit to the dentist six months ago was the fact that Enzo came along and watched it all go down so he maybe didn't need all the coaching she gave him.
And how did the actual visit go, you ask?
They each have excellent dental health. They each enjoyed the event. They were each delighted with their new tooth brushes and the prizes they selected. Neither of them put up any sort of fuss or, in Enzo's case, even made a peep during their respective exams.
We scheduled another visit in six months time and will surely be drunk with anticipation waiting for the day.
I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise, my kids loving the dentist. I love going myself. Sparkling clean teeth really are a thrill.
If you'd been at my house in the hours leading up to the visit you would have thought I was taking them to Disney Land.
Zizza was soooo excited. "Do you know what my favorite part is mom? It's drawing Butterflies" (magna-doodles are furnished at each exam chair for the patients doodling pleasure) She talked my ear off about the drawing. Also, she described in detail the tooth shaped stools in the waiting room play area. She wondered aloud what kind of toothbrush she would get and which prize she would choose.
She explained to her brother all that would happen and how the Dentist would tickle his gums with the tooth brush and then, he could choose a bouncy ball like hers from the prize center. She took the responsibility of the older more experienced child very seriously. I think the only thing she forgot about her first visit to the dentist six months ago was the fact that Enzo came along and watched it all go down so he maybe didn't need all the coaching she gave him.
And how did the actual visit go, you ask?
They each have excellent dental health. They each enjoyed the event. They were each delighted with their new tooth brushes and the prizes they selected. Neither of them put up any sort of fuss or, in Enzo's case, even made a peep during their respective exams.
We scheduled another visit in six months time and will surely be drunk with anticipation waiting for the day.
I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise, my kids loving the dentist. I love going myself. Sparkling clean teeth really are a thrill.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Chez Uniquety December 4, 2008
Zizza vacuumed,
Enzo laughed,
and all the while, there was napping going on.
Enzo laughed,
and all the while, there was napping going on.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Why, Gerber? Why?
One fine and fateful day in the final stages of my first pregnancy I came into possession of a bottle of Gerber Grins 'n Giggles oatmeal scented baby wash and the accompanying lotion.
I didn't care for it. It smelled good enough, but I found the scent rather pungent for a wee babe. I decided to use it for myself and forget it.
Eventually though, I ran out of the Johnson's baby wash and lotion I'd found appropriately bland for use on a new born and we gave the Gerber a try.
It's true, the stuff smells strong in the bottle. Put it on a baby though, and magic happens.
It is the single sweetest fragrance in existence upon the face of the earth today. It is the smell of my babies, you see, I never tuned back...
Until March, when I ran out and couldn't find anymore. I looked on Gerber's web site and it was still listed in their products, but none of the stores in my area carried it.
Then I got a little busy and tried not to think about it until today when I was once more in the market for baby wash.
This time I decided to give Johnson's oatmeal scented wash a try. It's the best I've had since the Gerber ran out but it's still not the same.
After thinking about the Grins 'n Giggles smell all afternoon, I really needed a fix so after bathing the new one in the Johnson's wash I swathed her in the Gerber lotion. I have one last bottle of that, I keep it for emergencies. Last time I used it was the day Little Bitty came to our house.
I honestly almost cried when I cracked open the bottle and smelled the intoxicating scent of fresh baby.
The New One is in bed now, every time I walk in the room I lean over the bassinet and sniff her luxuriantly.
I checked Gerber's web site again. The Grins 'n Giggles line isn't mentioned there any more. I did find this in a desperate google search. You know it might actually be worth the $9.95 plus shipping?
I didn't care for it. It smelled good enough, but I found the scent rather pungent for a wee babe. I decided to use it for myself and forget it.
Eventually though, I ran out of the Johnson's baby wash and lotion I'd found appropriately bland for use on a new born and we gave the Gerber a try.
It's true, the stuff smells strong in the bottle. Put it on a baby though, and magic happens.
It is the single sweetest fragrance in existence upon the face of the earth today. It is the smell of my babies, you see, I never tuned back...
Until March, when I ran out and couldn't find anymore. I looked on Gerber's web site and it was still listed in their products, but none of the stores in my area carried it.
Then I got a little busy and tried not to think about it until today when I was once more in the market for baby wash.
This time I decided to give Johnson's oatmeal scented wash a try. It's the best I've had since the Gerber ran out but it's still not the same.
After thinking about the Grins 'n Giggles smell all afternoon, I really needed a fix so after bathing the new one in the Johnson's wash I swathed her in the Gerber lotion. I have one last bottle of that, I keep it for emergencies. Last time I used it was the day Little Bitty came to our house.
I honestly almost cried when I cracked open the bottle and smelled the intoxicating scent of fresh baby.
The New One is in bed now, every time I walk in the room I lean over the bassinet and sniff her luxuriantly.
I checked Gerber's web site again. The Grins 'n Giggles line isn't mentioned there any more. I did find this in a desperate google search. You know it might actually be worth the $9.95 plus shipping?
Monday, December 1, 2008
How?
Here's the deal folks. I like to run. At times in my life I've even loved to run.
I've been meaning to get back into it these four years since I've become a mother, I just can't figure out how. Not how to run, I know how to do that, I've even done it a time or two. I can't figure out how to do it regularly, with children.
I ran occasionally with just the one child, I still had trouble fitting it into the day, but it was possible.
Then came the second child, and he didn't bring a double jogger with him so that complicated things. Still, I got out a time or two while the bigger one was at joy school.
Now there are three. If I bought the double jogger I could run with the smaller pair while the older one is otherwise occupied, that would be an improvement to what I'm doing now. I could only make it out 2-3 times a week that way though, not enough to constitute an actual training program for any of the races I hear about and aspire to run.
So, friends, friends with children who also manage to get out there and run. How is it done?
My guess is that you have to do it early before the children are awake. I've never given that any sort of an effort. Two reasons, I love my sleep and the morning sleep is the absolute best, and mornings are dark. I think it would compromise the safety of my person to run all by my lonesome in the big dark world.
What I need is a buddy. Does anyone want to volunteer? Come out in the insane hours of morning and run with me so we can protect one another?
Seriously, call me. (or, you know, e-mail)
I've been meaning to get back into it these four years since I've become a mother, I just can't figure out how. Not how to run, I know how to do that, I've even done it a time or two. I can't figure out how to do it regularly, with children.
I ran occasionally with just the one child, I still had trouble fitting it into the day, but it was possible.
Then came the second child, and he didn't bring a double jogger with him so that complicated things. Still, I got out a time or two while the bigger one was at joy school.
Now there are three. If I bought the double jogger I could run with the smaller pair while the older one is otherwise occupied, that would be an improvement to what I'm doing now. I could only make it out 2-3 times a week that way though, not enough to constitute an actual training program for any of the races I hear about and aspire to run.
So, friends, friends with children who also manage to get out there and run. How is it done?
My guess is that you have to do it early before the children are awake. I've never given that any sort of an effort. Two reasons, I love my sleep and the morning sleep is the absolute best, and mornings are dark. I think it would compromise the safety of my person to run all by my lonesome in the big dark world.
What I need is a buddy. Does anyone want to volunteer? Come out in the insane hours of morning and run with me so we can protect one another?
Seriously, call me. (or, you know, e-mail)
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Just a little note...
to mention my complete triumph over NaBloPoMo. At the close of last year I declared myself the winner of the 2007 Eva vs NaBloPoMo match and vowed to one-up myself this year by not slipping any "oops, almost missed today!" posts into the mix.
I did it folks. Some of my posts were brief, but brevity can be a virtue.
Once again, I declare myself triumphant.
I did it folks. Some of my posts were brief, but brevity can be a virtue.
Once again, I declare myself triumphant.
Ahh, pie
How I love thee. Beautiful, edible artwork.
There was peach
Crimped and sugared
laden with stars.
Apple crostata, simple and heavenly.
Then there was this beauty. Starting out...
almost there,
Perfection.
Actually, not quite perfection. My pies have a tendency to be soupy. I need to remember to add extra tapioca, or cornstarch, or flour depending on what thickening agent is employed in my recipe. I suppose it's just as well. If I'd already attained perfection, what would I have to work for?
The sweet potatoes were delicious, as long as you didn't plan on eating more than a tablespoon of them. The flavor was spectacular caramely delight but oh so very sweet. I think I'll give it a try next time with half as much of all the sweet things and see how it goes.
Now, there are some pies in my refrigerator, and some blue bunny home made vanilla ice cream (the perfect vanilla to accompany fruit)in my freezer, and I'm not particularly full at the moment. Excuse me please.
There was peach
Crimped and sugared
laden with stars.
Apple crostata, simple and heavenly.
Then there was this beauty. Starting out...
almost there,
Perfection.
Actually, not quite perfection. My pies have a tendency to be soupy. I need to remember to add extra tapioca, or cornstarch, or flour depending on what thickening agent is employed in my recipe. I suppose it's just as well. If I'd already attained perfection, what would I have to work for?
The sweet potatoes were delicious, as long as you didn't plan on eating more than a tablespoon of them. The flavor was spectacular caramely delight but oh so very sweet. I think I'll give it a try next time with half as much of all the sweet things and see how it goes.
Now, there are some pies in my refrigerator, and some blue bunny home made vanilla ice cream (the perfect vanilla to accompany fruit)in my freezer, and I'm not particularly full at the moment. Excuse me please.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Harses, harses, harses, harses
My horses are all done. Just in time too, they're setting off tomorrow on their trip to Utah where they will find new and loving homes.
Unfortunately I didn't get them done until after dark which made for less than ideal photo circumstances. Sorry for the dark/flashiness here folks.
As far as unicorns go, I decided to go with the tan/gold yarn because I already had it, and it's what i really liked the best.
They'll be at a Salt Lake area boutique next weekend. If you'll be in the area and want the details, I'll be happy to give them to you.
Unfortunately I didn't get them done until after dark which made for less than ideal photo circumstances. Sorry for the dark/flashiness here folks.
As far as unicorns go, I decided to go with the tan/gold yarn because I already had it, and it's what i really liked the best.
They'll be at a Salt Lake area boutique next weekend. If you'll be in the area and want the details, I'll be happy to give them to you.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Drip, drip, drip
My nose and eyes are dripping, dripping continuously.
What do you think is worse, the dripping or it's alternative and good friend, sinus pressure?
Right now I think the pressure would be better. I'm guessing it will arrive tomorrow and when it does I'll dream of dripful days gone by.
Thinking of stringing a roll of toilet paper on a ribbon and wearing it around my neck.
Maybe It will start a trend.
What do you think is worse, the dripping or it's alternative and good friend, sinus pressure?
Right now I think the pressure would be better. I'm guessing it will arrive tomorrow and when it does I'll dream of dripful days gone by.
Thinking of stringing a roll of toilet paper on a ribbon and wearing it around my neck.
Maybe It will start a trend.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Liar
That's me. I'm a liar. I said I was going to report on my holiday cooking and I'm not going to. Instead I think I'll pose a question for you.
If you were a little girl and you received a unicorn hobby horse, wait, we need to pause for a second.
Do you know what a hobby horse is?
I've always assumed people knew what they are. You know what a jack in the box is, right? How 'bout a top? A yo-yo? Anywho, I've come to know that there are a lot of folks out there who don't know. If you fall in that category, swing by here to find out.
Back to my question. So, if you were a little girl and you were gifted with a unicorn hobby horse on which to ride, a unicorn with a creamy white coat and a golden horn, what color mane would you want her to have?
I've asked a few people and the suggestions I've received so far include variegated pastel, and purple (I'm thinking pastel again here) I also have the tan laced with golden threads I used for the hair on my Baby Girl doll a while back. That idea appeals to me but I think it might be a little to mellow/understated for a little girl.
What say you?
If you were a little girl and you received a unicorn hobby horse, wait, we need to pause for a second.
Do you know what a hobby horse is?
I've always assumed people knew what they are. You know what a jack in the box is, right? How 'bout a top? A yo-yo? Anywho, I've come to know that there are a lot of folks out there who don't know. If you fall in that category, swing by here to find out.
Back to my question. So, if you were a little girl and you were gifted with a unicorn hobby horse on which to ride, a unicorn with a creamy white coat and a golden horn, what color mane would you want her to have?
I've asked a few people and the suggestions I've received so far include variegated pastel, and purple (I'm thinking pastel again here) I also have the tan laced with golden threads I used for the hair on my Baby Girl doll a while back. That idea appeals to me but I think it might be a little to mellow/understated for a little girl.
What say you?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
mmmmmm
I baked a beautiful apple crostata. The buttery smell of the crust is still lingering around the house.
Remember my pledge to make raspberry rhubarb pie this year? It's happening folks, it's happening tonight. I'm not sure what my problem was finding a recipe last time, I googled today and several recipes popped right up for me to choose from. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm also throwing in a peach pie just because.
I'm using the crust from my grandpa's apple pie recipe. It is a monster. I might be mistaken but I think he learned to make it whilst serving in the merchant marine if that gives you an idea of the monstrousness of this bad boy.
I can make 3, 8-9 inch double crust pies from just one recipe's worth of grandpa's crust. If you make the apple pie full out you do it in a "dripper pan" it's as deep as your run of the mill 9x13 but with a few extra inches on all four sides.
I've got six disks of pie crust resting in my refrigerator this very moment, just waiting for me to come and bless them with fruity centers.
While my pies are in the oven I'll whip up my sweet potatoes. I was planning to go with my conventional method of just mashing them up with some butter, a little milk and as much sugar as I can pack in there before topping them with marshmallows but after reading Makayla's post today, I think I'm going to give her recipe a try. I'm going to leave out the cinnamon though. I like cinnamon and all, but I hate when it sneaks up on me. I don't expect cinnamon in my sweet potatoes and unexpected cinnamon almost never makes me smile. I'll let you know how this goes as well. In fact, just plan on a report of all my culinary efforts on your desk in the morning. Or evening, I guess, since were not having our holiday meal as breakfast.
Remember my pledge to make raspberry rhubarb pie this year? It's happening folks, it's happening tonight. I'm not sure what my problem was finding a recipe last time, I googled today and several recipes popped right up for me to choose from. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm also throwing in a peach pie just because.
I'm using the crust from my grandpa's apple pie recipe. It is a monster. I might be mistaken but I think he learned to make it whilst serving in the merchant marine if that gives you an idea of the monstrousness of this bad boy.
I can make 3, 8-9 inch double crust pies from just one recipe's worth of grandpa's crust. If you make the apple pie full out you do it in a "dripper pan" it's as deep as your run of the mill 9x13 but with a few extra inches on all four sides.
I've got six disks of pie crust resting in my refrigerator this very moment, just waiting for me to come and bless them with fruity centers.
While my pies are in the oven I'll whip up my sweet potatoes. I was planning to go with my conventional method of just mashing them up with some butter, a little milk and as much sugar as I can pack in there before topping them with marshmallows but after reading Makayla's post today, I think I'm going to give her recipe a try. I'm going to leave out the cinnamon though. I like cinnamon and all, but I hate when it sneaks up on me. I don't expect cinnamon in my sweet potatoes and unexpected cinnamon almost never makes me smile. I'll let you know how this goes as well. In fact, just plan on a report of all my culinary efforts on your desk in the morning. Or evening, I guess, since were not having our holiday meal as breakfast.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
accomplishment
I think I'm going to start a procrastination log. Anytime I procrastinate anything, I'll record it for posterity.
I think looking over all the things I successfully avoid doing every day will give me a real sense of accomplishment.
Today for example I've put off doing the dishes, sewing the pile of hobby horses I cut out last night, (I know, I know, but I ran out of excuses so I had to do it) folding laundry, and cleaning the bathrooms... and it's only 3:00! I have the rest of the afternoon and evening to continue procrastinating these, and many other tasks.
I wouldn't have nearly so many things to put on my list if I were doing them instead of avoiding them. You can only get something done the one time, but you can avoid it over and over again.
I think looking over all the things I successfully avoid doing every day will give me a real sense of accomplishment.
Today for example I've put off doing the dishes, sewing the pile of hobby horses I cut out last night, (I know, I know, but I ran out of excuses so I had to do it) folding laundry, and cleaning the bathrooms... and it's only 3:00! I have the rest of the afternoon and evening to continue procrastinating these, and many other tasks.
I wouldn't have nearly so many things to put on my list if I were doing them instead of avoiding them. You can only get something done the one time, but you can avoid it over and over again.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Napping
It was quiet time, my time to work. The new one wasn't cooperating very well though, she wanted to play rather than sleep.
I laid her on her blankie to wiggle while I worked and after some good kicks and arm waves she was tired out and drifted off.
She slept there on the floor for a couple of hours. It was the best mid-day nap she's had in days.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A Family on wheels
We went out and rode bikes yesterday. Most of us did anyway, the Mr opted for Roller blades. The New one napped inside while the rest of us rode back and forth in front of the house.
Since I don't have a bike I got to share with Enzo. It went like this
The main diffenences between this photo and what went on yesterday are
1) It was a not quite two year old Enzo on the seat of the trike rather than a freshly 2 year old Zizza
2) There was just me and Enz yesterday with no "third wheel" (I crack myself up) tagging along in my uterus.
3) The tricycle is not nearly so shiny anymore and also no longer allowed in the house.
4) I've had a hair cut or twenty since then.
It was quite a lot of fun. The ability to ride tricycles is one of the perks of being a short legged 5'2" On the down side, that tricycle's fender isn't so much cushioned. After 4 round trips the length of my street I've got a pair of bruises to correspond with my sit bones.
Since I don't have a bike I got to share with Enzo. It went like this
The main diffenences between this photo and what went on yesterday are
1) It was a not quite two year old Enzo on the seat of the trike rather than a freshly 2 year old Zizza
2) There was just me and Enz yesterday with no "third wheel" (I crack myself up) tagging along in my uterus.
3) The tricycle is not nearly so shiny anymore and also no longer allowed in the house.
4) I've had a hair cut or twenty since then.
It was quite a lot of fun. The ability to ride tricycles is one of the perks of being a short legged 5'2" On the down side, that tricycle's fender isn't so much cushioned. After 4 round trips the length of my street I've got a pair of bruises to correspond with my sit bones.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Last night,
After scouring every tooth, bracket and wire residing in my head, I attached the necessary elastics to their respective hooks and posts and betook myself to bed.
Two and a half hours later I woke up with my jaw screaming in pain. Only one thought on my mind, I fell out of bed and made my way in the dark to the nearest pair of scissors. When I found them I stuck their points between my teeth and began to snip. The elastics stung when they snapped but the relief in my jaw was so great I hardly noticed.
I've got to remember to take ibuprofen before bed. I don't think two and a half hours a night is enough time to correct my cross bite.
Two and a half hours later I woke up with my jaw screaming in pain. Only one thought on my mind, I fell out of bed and made my way in the dark to the nearest pair of scissors. When I found them I stuck their points between my teeth and began to snip. The elastics stung when they snapped but the relief in my jaw was so great I hardly noticed.
I've got to remember to take ibuprofen before bed. I don't think two and a half hours a night is enough time to correct my cross bite.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Speaking Sister Love
Zizza threw a fit because I decided to comb Enzo's hair first. "I always go first!" she screamed. That's true of course. Generally speaking I only comb Enzo's hair because he see's me combing Zizza's and wants a turn too. One of the joys of having a young son with only a small about of ultra blond hair is that combing said hair is entirely optional. Today I remembered that he likes to have his hair combed and since Zizza was not coming to get hers done I decided to do his first.
"Shall we comb your hair first today?" I asked him, and chaos ensued.
I told the Girl to go to her room until she could behave nicely. Enzo's hair was combed in short order but Zizza remained in her room. When she quieted down, I asked her if she was ready to come out and she said "no" so I read the boy a story and had a little snuggle before he wandered off to find other amusements.
After a while he started crying the injured cry, and it was brought to my attention that he had been amusing himself by opening the door to her room so she could shut it again over and over. The inevitable happened and his wee fingers got pinched.
I picked him up and kissed his fingers, striped from the pressure of his sister leaning against the opposite side of the door in which they were stuck. He cried, "Sister, sister play!" No concern over his squished fingers but distraught that his sister wouldn't play with him.
Enzo is going through a language explosion and it's an amazing thing to watch him think over and try new sounds and new words.
Tuesday as I was getting him dressed he sat focused on the pile of clean laundry beside me waiting to be put away. Finally he tried out the word he'd been thinking over "ah-k" he said, sock.
K is the sound of the week. It is sounded in the back of his throat like an African click language. He's been saying "sock" at every opportunity, Today he tried out the sound in a new word, "book".
When we're driving he looks out the windows and says "tar,tar,tar,tar" Have you ever played "there's a car"? It's a thrilling game.
If he's not spotting cars he's singing the alphabet "e, e, e, e, e, ah, dee" and he repeats from there. The description sounds like it would be annoying but it's really nothing of the sort. I love to hear his baby voice singing as we go wherever it is we're going.
My Baby Girl learned to speak so early and so fast I never got to watch her think the way I'm doing with him now. It's such a blessing to peek into his thoughts this way. To watch him puzzle and when he's through puzzling hear the fruits of all that puzzling. To understand that sure, his fingers are sore, but won't his sister play with him?
"Shall we comb your hair first today?" I asked him, and chaos ensued.
I told the Girl to go to her room until she could behave nicely. Enzo's hair was combed in short order but Zizza remained in her room. When she quieted down, I asked her if she was ready to come out and she said "no" so I read the boy a story and had a little snuggle before he wandered off to find other amusements.
After a while he started crying the injured cry, and it was brought to my attention that he had been amusing himself by opening the door to her room so she could shut it again over and over. The inevitable happened and his wee fingers got pinched.
I picked him up and kissed his fingers, striped from the pressure of his sister leaning against the opposite side of the door in which they were stuck. He cried, "Sister, sister play!" No concern over his squished fingers but distraught that his sister wouldn't play with him.
Enzo is going through a language explosion and it's an amazing thing to watch him think over and try new sounds and new words.
Tuesday as I was getting him dressed he sat focused on the pile of clean laundry beside me waiting to be put away. Finally he tried out the word he'd been thinking over "ah-k" he said, sock.
K is the sound of the week. It is sounded in the back of his throat like an African click language. He's been saying "sock" at every opportunity, Today he tried out the sound in a new word, "book".
When we're driving he looks out the windows and says "tar,tar,tar,tar" Have you ever played "there's a car"? It's a thrilling game.
If he's not spotting cars he's singing the alphabet "e, e, e, e, e, ah, dee" and he repeats from there. The description sounds like it would be annoying but it's really nothing of the sort. I love to hear his baby voice singing as we go wherever it is we're going.
My Baby Girl learned to speak so early and so fast I never got to watch her think the way I'm doing with him now. It's such a blessing to peek into his thoughts this way. To watch him puzzle and when he's through puzzling hear the fruits of all that puzzling. To understand that sure, his fingers are sore, but won't his sister play with him?
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I win!
Some of you may have been around here long enough to remember this
A year ago I was very disappointed in my inability to obtain clogs for my Zizza. Her feet are just so dang tiny, there wasn't a pair to be had.
But Guess what?
She grew!
I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear her clomp clomp clomping around the house. I love that she has easy on and off shoes that are suitable for winter weather not to mention, cute enough to make me cry.
Last year's obsession had worn a little thin so I was reluctant to shell out for these beauties but I reminded myself that they are not going to wear out anytime soon so every girl child I bear or borrow will benefit from their purchase and then I bought them. I bought them and I'm not sorry.
A year ago I was very disappointed in my inability to obtain clogs for my Zizza. Her feet are just so dang tiny, there wasn't a pair to be had.
But Guess what?
She grew!
I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear her clomp clomp clomping around the house. I love that she has easy on and off shoes that are suitable for winter weather not to mention, cute enough to make me cry.
Last year's obsession had worn a little thin so I was reluctant to shell out for these beauties but I reminded myself that they are not going to wear out anytime soon so every girl child I bear or borrow will benefit from their purchase and then I bought them. I bought them and I'm not sorry.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Dashed dreams
We stopped in at a bike shop to inquire about the possibility of conveying three children under the power of a lone biking adult.
Last Christmastime, while walking through the mall I happened upon a bike shop, it's windows full of beautifully painted, basket laden beach cruisers.
I have no interest in biking long distances or through mountains and accordingly my interest in bikes died when the mighty driver's license entered my life.
When I saw those lovely bikes I remembered how great it was to pedal around the neighborhood, with or without a destination. I realized that I didn't have to bike for miles or over mountains to enjoy the freedom and joy of a bike.
And did I mention the bikes were lovely? I was previously unaware that there was such a thing as an attractive adult-sized bike.
From that day forth I have wished for a bike. A bike to ride to the park, to take Zizza to her dance class, to make my hair fly, and to admire.
This winter I was going to do it.
At the bike shop yesterday we learned that there is indeed a way for me to propel all three children along with me. As long as all of the children can sit and support their own heads. There is no way, not a way known to the bicycle man anyway,to bike with a two month old.
"I guess we won't be biking Sister to dance class" I mourned. DO you know what that Awful Bicycle Man did then? What he had the nerve to do after dashing my dreams?
"Whoa," said A.B.M. "Dance class at four? somebody's gonna be self conscious when she gets older"
Excuse me? Self conscious? Because she goes the the neighbors house to plie to various Disney soundtracks for an hour every Wednesday? Self Conscious because she's learning coordination and how to enjoy exercise and express herself through movement?
I still want a bike, and I'll still probably buy it at that shop when the New One grows some neck muscles, but I'm going to give that Awful Bicycle Man a dirty look if he's there when I do.
Last Christmastime, while walking through the mall I happened upon a bike shop, it's windows full of beautifully painted, basket laden beach cruisers.
I have no interest in biking long distances or through mountains and accordingly my interest in bikes died when the mighty driver's license entered my life.
When I saw those lovely bikes I remembered how great it was to pedal around the neighborhood, with or without a destination. I realized that I didn't have to bike for miles or over mountains to enjoy the freedom and joy of a bike.
And did I mention the bikes were lovely? I was previously unaware that there was such a thing as an attractive adult-sized bike.
From that day forth I have wished for a bike. A bike to ride to the park, to take Zizza to her dance class, to make my hair fly, and to admire.
This winter I was going to do it.
At the bike shop yesterday we learned that there is indeed a way for me to propel all three children along with me. As long as all of the children can sit and support their own heads. There is no way, not a way known to the bicycle man anyway,to bike with a two month old.
"I guess we won't be biking Sister to dance class" I mourned. DO you know what that Awful Bicycle Man did then? What he had the nerve to do after dashing my dreams?
"Whoa," said A.B.M. "Dance class at four? somebody's gonna be self conscious when she gets older"
Excuse me? Self conscious? Because she goes the the neighbors house to plie to various Disney soundtracks for an hour every Wednesday? Self Conscious because she's learning coordination and how to enjoy exercise and express herself through movement?
I still want a bike, and I'll still probably buy it at that shop when the New One grows some neck muscles, but I'm going to give that Awful Bicycle Man a dirty look if he's there when I do.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Multitasking
I had an orthodontic adjustment and a pelvic exam this morning.
Does that not sound like a stellar combination?
Some one should open an orthodonist/obgyn practice. That would save a lot of time. They could put up a curtain at the waist so the two doctors could tend to their respective duties without interfering with one another.
Does that not sound like a stellar combination?
Some one should open an orthodonist/obgyn practice. That would save a lot of time. They could put up a curtain at the waist so the two doctors could tend to their respective duties without interfering with one another.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Phenomenon
It happened again. I started sewing this morning and after what seemed like half an hour at the machine it was time to go make dinner.
So much time mysteriously vanished today that it was too dark to take any photos by the time I finished up.
Am I the only one this happens to?
I kept thinking the New One wasn't napping well and wondering why she was hungry again so fast. Turns out, she was doing just fine. It was the vanishing time that had me confused.
It's a shame about the photos, I'm quite pleased with today's work and now you'll never see it. That's right, never. I couldn't possibly take a photo tomorrow.
So much time mysteriously vanished today that it was too dark to take any photos by the time I finished up.
Am I the only one this happens to?
I kept thinking the New One wasn't napping well and wondering why she was hungry again so fast. Turns out, she was doing just fine. It was the vanishing time that had me confused.
It's a shame about the photos, I'm quite pleased with today's work and now you'll never see it. That's right, never. I couldn't possibly take a photo tomorrow.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
New do
I was done being blonde. Oh, so done being blonde.
Also tired of being beholden to my flat iron as I have been for nearly five years now. Observe the natural texture of my hair, in this photo I did nothing but blow-dry. I used my paddle brush to control the crazier waves around my face but in the back I just pointed the blow drier at the hair and went crazy. This is not my favorite look, but it'll do. I'm thrilled to have a low maintenance option. I've been a long time without one.
The high maintenance option is still low maintenance compared with going over every tiny section with a flat-iron until it's uniformly smooth. The high maintenance option is hot rollers. Hot rolled mussy curls. I've been experimenting for the past few days since my haircut and I think I've just about worked out my preferred rolling method.
Three cheers for hair! Three cheers for having a good hair dresser! Three cheers for kicking the flat iron to the curb! (actually, I'm keeping it and will probably even use it occasionally)
Also tired of being beholden to my flat iron as I have been for nearly five years now. Observe the natural texture of my hair, in this photo I did nothing but blow-dry. I used my paddle brush to control the crazier waves around my face but in the back I just pointed the blow drier at the hair and went crazy. This is not my favorite look, but it'll do. I'm thrilled to have a low maintenance option. I've been a long time without one.
The high maintenance option is still low maintenance compared with going over every tiny section with a flat-iron until it's uniformly smooth. The high maintenance option is hot rollers. Hot rolled mussy curls. I've been experimenting for the past few days since my haircut and I think I've just about worked out my preferred rolling method.
Three cheers for hair! Three cheers for having a good hair dresser! Three cheers for kicking the flat iron to the curb! (actually, I'm keeping it and will probably even use it occasionally)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Death by shopping
My dear Mr. took kid duty all day today so I could shop for the clothing we will all wear in our family pictures.
I shopped and shopped and shopped and then kept on shopping. I left my house at 11:00 am and returned at 6:30 pm.
I didn't find much of what I was looking for and I came home with a lot of things I'm going to need to take back.
One problem was, I had a clear idea of what I wanted before I set out so I was looking for specific things, things I thought up without the aid of advertisements from local stores. That is never a good idea.
I was planning to make a good bit of this stuff, but then there was the incident with the sewing machine and the floor.
Another problem was that I don't want us to look particularly autumnal but it is autumn at the moment so autumnal things are what's currently available.
Long story short. My legs and feet ache, Shopping alone is not nearly as much fun as I remembered, I missed my day with the Mr and I still don't have our photo wardrobe squared away.
How was your Saturday?
I shopped and shopped and shopped and then kept on shopping. I left my house at 11:00 am and returned at 6:30 pm.
I didn't find much of what I was looking for and I came home with a lot of things I'm going to need to take back.
One problem was, I had a clear idea of what I wanted before I set out so I was looking for specific things, things I thought up without the aid of advertisements from local stores. That is never a good idea.
I was planning to make a good bit of this stuff, but then there was the incident with the sewing machine and the floor.
Another problem was that I don't want us to look particularly autumnal but it is autumn at the moment so autumnal things are what's currently available.
Long story short. My legs and feet ache, Shopping alone is not nearly as much fun as I remembered, I missed my day with the Mr and I still don't have our photo wardrobe squared away.
How was your Saturday?
Friday, November 14, 2008
$147.18 later...
Serasponda (that's my sewing machine) is back home on my table.
The entire tension unit had to be replaced. Here's the old one.
I think I need to rearrange things in here so she is not so easy to yank off the table. The man at the Bernina store would surely begin to wonder about me if I brought her back for another new tension unit anytime soon.
I can't wait to see how she sews.
The entire tension unit had to be replaced. Here's the old one.
I think I need to rearrange things in here so she is not so easy to yank off the table. The man at the Bernina store would surely begin to wonder about me if I brought her back for another new tension unit anytime soon.
I can't wait to see how she sews.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
An Important Announcement
The time has come for a change in blog names around here. I've been finding the name "Baby Girl" rather cumbersome for some months. I doesn't shorten well.
"Tiny Boy" can be shortened to "Tiny" without problem but calling her just "Baby" wouldn't so much work, and while I do call her just plain "Girl" when I'm talking to her, typing it doesn't feel right to me. Not to mention the fact that with Our New One around people might be confused as to which girl, or even which baby girl I'm talking about.
For the past few weeks I've been thinking I'll change their blog names but then I get typing away and decide it's too late to do it in that post. Today though, I was at a loss for something to discuss with you all (or maybe for you all would be a more accurate description of what goes in here) so I decided today would be the day. The day of the big name switch.
Henceforth and here to for Baby Girl will be called "Zizza" it is a name she came up with her self and assigned briefly to one of her dolls. I liked it and was sad when she moved on to a new moniker for the dolly in question so I have commandeered it for my own purposes.
Tiny Boy will be called "Enzo" Why? Because that's one of his existing nicknames and because I like the way it sounds with "Zizza"
The New One will be keeping her existing blog name for the time being. If she becomes a more permanent fixture in our family I will find her a more permanent title for the blog.
Disclaimer- I reserve the right to continue occasional use of the names "Baby Girl" and "Tiny Boy" in reference to the aforementioned children as I see fit.
"Tiny Boy" can be shortened to "Tiny" without problem but calling her just "Baby" wouldn't so much work, and while I do call her just plain "Girl" when I'm talking to her, typing it doesn't feel right to me. Not to mention the fact that with Our New One around people might be confused as to which girl, or even which baby girl I'm talking about.
For the past few weeks I've been thinking I'll change their blog names but then I get typing away and decide it's too late to do it in that post. Today though, I was at a loss for something to discuss with you all (or maybe for you all would be a more accurate description of what goes in here) so I decided today would be the day. The day of the big name switch.
Henceforth and here to for Baby Girl will be called "Zizza" it is a name she came up with her self and assigned briefly to one of her dolls. I liked it and was sad when she moved on to a new moniker for the dolly in question so I have commandeered it for my own purposes.
Tiny Boy will be called "Enzo" Why? Because that's one of his existing nicknames and because I like the way it sounds with "Zizza"
The New One will be keeping her existing blog name for the time being. If she becomes a more permanent fixture in our family I will find her a more permanent title for the blog.
Disclaimer- I reserve the right to continue occasional use of the names "Baby Girl" and "Tiny Boy" in reference to the aforementioned children as I see fit.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
surrogate?
My Girl likes to play "computer games" One might wonder why that is worth mentioning. Many four year olds enjoy such amusements.
Look at the attention she giving the computer in this photo and then guess what she's playing.
Got it?
Check out the look on her face in this next one and see if you're still happy with your guess.
If you guessed a blank word document you are right! Well actually, it's an open office document, we're an open source family.
Apparently sister girl was wrangling a difficult turn of phrase in that second photo. From the look on her face, I'd guess it's not going her way.
If Tiny is out of the way and I'm in here sewing she'll sit at the computer and type all of our names over and over for halves of hours at a a time. She changes the size of the font and the color of her text and has a grand old time.
Imagine what would happen if she was introduced to an actual game. I might be able to entirely turn over the responsibility of raising her to my desk top.
oops, she spotted me
Look at the attention she giving the computer in this photo and then guess what she's playing.
Got it?
Check out the look on her face in this next one and see if you're still happy with your guess.
If you guessed a blank word document you are right! Well actually, it's an open office document, we're an open source family.
Apparently sister girl was wrangling a difficult turn of phrase in that second photo. From the look on her face, I'd guess it's not going her way.
If Tiny is out of the way and I'm in here sewing she'll sit at the computer and type all of our names over and over for halves of hours at a a time. She changes the size of the font and the color of her text and has a grand old time.
Imagine what would happen if she was introduced to an actual game. I might be able to entirely turn over the responsibility of raising her to my desk top.
oops, she spotted me
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Bike it up
Baby Girl bought a bike for herself with her birthday money.
In the days preceding the shopping trip I lamented over the lack of gender neutral bikes for young children. I was certain we'd be driving home with a pink something covered in glitter and maybe a princess or two.
I felt really bad for Tiny, knowing I'll be too cheap to buy a second itty bitty bike when he gets big enough for one.
A great hing happened though. Baby Girl didn't even look at the princess bikes. She had a brief encounter with a Dora bike but she went with the bike you see here. It has a rocket painted on it along with the word(s?) "Rock-it". (If, in the future, my children have trouble spelling "rocket" I'll know where to lay the blame.)
She's not looking at the camera because she likes to wear her helmet strap across her chin like a royal guard but has trouble keeping it in place. Nothing I can say will convince her to give up and wear the strap as it's meant to be worn.
Speaking of helmets; I was so happy about her bike selection that I didn't even attempt to influence her helmet choice. As a result, a Dora Helmet was purchased. You might not think that's a big deal, but it is.
I am not an advocate for character apparel. Yes, she is wearing a Disney princess t-shirt in these photos but listen, her grandma bought it for her in Disney world so I made an exception.
I buy character panties, but nothing else.
Normally the Bike helmet would be pushing that line a little too far but I was really thrilled with her bike choice. The Mr. gave me a few surprised, questioning glances as I made no move to discourage the helmet choice. I was very proud of the restraint I was able to show in the situation.
She rode her bike to joy school the next day.
I took twenty minutes to traverse the quarter of a mile (total guess on the distance) to Bestest's house.
I have some very slow walks ahead of me in the coming weeks while she figures out this bike business. I'll be praying for patience.
In the days preceding the shopping trip I lamented over the lack of gender neutral bikes for young children. I was certain we'd be driving home with a pink something covered in glitter and maybe a princess or two.
I felt really bad for Tiny, knowing I'll be too cheap to buy a second itty bitty bike when he gets big enough for one.
A great hing happened though. Baby Girl didn't even look at the princess bikes. She had a brief encounter with a Dora bike but she went with the bike you see here. It has a rocket painted on it along with the word(s?) "Rock-it". (If, in the future, my children have trouble spelling "rocket" I'll know where to lay the blame.)
She's not looking at the camera because she likes to wear her helmet strap across her chin like a royal guard but has trouble keeping it in place. Nothing I can say will convince her to give up and wear the strap as it's meant to be worn.
Speaking of helmets; I was so happy about her bike selection that I didn't even attempt to influence her helmet choice. As a result, a Dora Helmet was purchased. You might not think that's a big deal, but it is.
I am not an advocate for character apparel. Yes, she is wearing a Disney princess t-shirt in these photos but listen, her grandma bought it for her in Disney world so I made an exception.
I buy character panties, but nothing else.
Normally the Bike helmet would be pushing that line a little too far but I was really thrilled with her bike choice. The Mr. gave me a few surprised, questioning glances as I made no move to discourage the helmet choice. I was very proud of the restraint I was able to show in the situation.
She rode her bike to joy school the next day.
I took twenty minutes to traverse the quarter of a mile (total guess on the distance) to Bestest's house.
I have some very slow walks ahead of me in the coming weeks while she figures out this bike business. I'll be praying for patience.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Serasponda
On Friday the unthinkable happened.
I was here, at the computer trying to order pizza. A bit of fuss from my children caused me to look to my right where my sewing machines reside.
I only just had time to yell a futile yell before I saw it play out in slow motion before my eyes.
Tiny's hand grasping the snap-on sewing platform and pulling the machine to the floor where it landed with a thud and a crunch.
The noise that escaped my throat was sort of a mangled gasping sob. The sort of a sound I'd expect one to make while being stabbed.
There was a little part of my brain that remained rational through the process. That rational part wondered If my reaction was entirely natural. The rational thoughts suspected that the rest of me was being over-dramatic. As I continued to issue forth sob after gasping sob however, that rational bit figured out that the episode wasn't something I could fake.
Luckily, the rational train of thought was also very observant and noticed how my Baby Girl burst into tears of her own as she fled the room on my order.
That knowledge enabled me to contain myself enough to go find her.
Baby Girl completely understood the gravity of the situation. When I entered her room she nearly exploded with sobs. "I'm so sorry mama!" she wailed into my neck.
She thought it was her fault.
How grateful I was for that rational thought, the thought that made me aware of her pain so I could comfort her, tell her she didn't do it, and that I'd have forgiven her even if she had.
Her crying shifted then, from painful remorse to pure relief. "I love you" she sniffed, and that was that.
Aside from a few minor injuries to the plastic casing, everything seems to be fine. I haven't tried to sew yet, but I have high hopes. Still, I expect I'll need to pay a visit to my local Bernina shop to have it looked over.
I am so thankful that I had the insight to buy a quality product in the first place. I feel sure a lesser machine would have been smashed beyond repair.
I was here, at the computer trying to order pizza. A bit of fuss from my children caused me to look to my right where my sewing machines reside.
I only just had time to yell a futile yell before I saw it play out in slow motion before my eyes.
Tiny's hand grasping the snap-on sewing platform and pulling the machine to the floor where it landed with a thud and a crunch.
The noise that escaped my throat was sort of a mangled gasping sob. The sort of a sound I'd expect one to make while being stabbed.
There was a little part of my brain that remained rational through the process. That rational part wondered If my reaction was entirely natural. The rational thoughts suspected that the rest of me was being over-dramatic. As I continued to issue forth sob after gasping sob however, that rational bit figured out that the episode wasn't something I could fake.
Luckily, the rational train of thought was also very observant and noticed how my Baby Girl burst into tears of her own as she fled the room on my order.
That knowledge enabled me to contain myself enough to go find her.
Baby Girl completely understood the gravity of the situation. When I entered her room she nearly exploded with sobs. "I'm so sorry mama!" she wailed into my neck.
She thought it was her fault.
How grateful I was for that rational thought, the thought that made me aware of her pain so I could comfort her, tell her she didn't do it, and that I'd have forgiven her even if she had.
Her crying shifted then, from painful remorse to pure relief. "I love you" she sniffed, and that was that.
Aside from a few minor injuries to the plastic casing, everything seems to be fine. I haven't tried to sew yet, but I have high hopes. Still, I expect I'll need to pay a visit to my local Bernina shop to have it looked over.
I am so thankful that I had the insight to buy a quality product in the first place. I feel sure a lesser machine would have been smashed beyond repair.
More Grosgrain
GrosgrainStore.com Grand Opening & Giftcard Giveaway!!!!!!!!
What can I say? I really like that little birdie skirt, I just can't pass up the chance at a free one.
oh, and by the way, http://www.grosgrainstore.com/
In case you were wondering.
What can I say? I really like that little birdie skirt, I just can't pass up the chance at a free one.
oh, and by the way, http://www.grosgrainstore.com/
In case you were wondering.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Come baaaaack!
My Boy is finding his will.
Recently I've found myself saying things like "Tiny stop, stop...STOP" and "Get down please. climb down Boy. BOY. DOWN. NOW. GET!" an awful lot.
This happened on Tuesday.
He made a break for it while I was getting the stroller out. I had the New One strapped to my chest in the Ergo Baby and thus couldn't run to catch him, not if I wanted to avoid giving anyone a severe case of shaken baby syndrome anyway.
The Dog caught up with him, no problem. The Dog could run
Meanwhile, I walked as quickly and smoothly as possible, all the while calling the boy and snapping photos from behind.
Lucky for me he noticed the rocks in the neighbors yard at the end of the street and stopped to pick up a few. That delay cost him his lead and I hauled him back to the house.
I was rather discouraged about the loss of his obedience until later that night when I regained hope.
He picked, for his after dinner piece of Halloween candy, a banana dum-dum. If I'd realized it was banana, I never would have let him have it.
Evils such as artificial banana flavored candy are relegated straight to the trash in this household.
He took his time eating it, rubbing it on his face and hands, trying to rub it on the faces and hands of his family members and making his parents nauseous. The fake banana fumes finally became too much for the Mr and he directed the Tiny to throw the dum-dum in the trash.
Tiny was heart broken, he had really been enjoying himself smearing that tangible gag reflex all over himself and others. Still, he took his prize and threw it in the trash, crying all the way.
It was heart breaking.
Don't worry folks, his obedience did not go unrewarded. He got a second piece of candy. This time though, the Mr picked for him. It would never have done to have him choose another intolerable sweet.
Tiny ate his fun size Nestle Crunch bar with a relish. Even in spite of the fact that none of us wanted it smeared on our arms either.
Recently I've found myself saying things like "Tiny stop, stop...STOP" and "Get down please. climb down Boy. BOY. DOWN. NOW. GET!" an awful lot.
This happened on Tuesday.
He made a break for it while I was getting the stroller out. I had the New One strapped to my chest in the Ergo Baby and thus couldn't run to catch him, not if I wanted to avoid giving anyone a severe case of shaken baby syndrome anyway.
The Dog caught up with him, no problem. The Dog could run
Meanwhile, I walked as quickly and smoothly as possible, all the while calling the boy and snapping photos from behind.
Lucky for me he noticed the rocks in the neighbors yard at the end of the street and stopped to pick up a few. That delay cost him his lead and I hauled him back to the house.
I was rather discouraged about the loss of his obedience until later that night when I regained hope.
He picked, for his after dinner piece of Halloween candy, a banana dum-dum. If I'd realized it was banana, I never would have let him have it.
Evils such as artificial banana flavored candy are relegated straight to the trash in this household.
He took his time eating it, rubbing it on his face and hands, trying to rub it on the faces and hands of his family members and making his parents nauseous. The fake banana fumes finally became too much for the Mr and he directed the Tiny to throw the dum-dum in the trash.
Tiny was heart broken, he had really been enjoying himself smearing that tangible gag reflex all over himself and others. Still, he took his prize and threw it in the trash, crying all the way.
It was heart breaking.
Don't worry folks, his obedience did not go unrewarded. He got a second piece of candy. This time though, the Mr picked for him. It would never have done to have him choose another intolerable sweet.
Tiny ate his fun size Nestle Crunch bar with a relish. Even in spite of the fact that none of us wanted it smeared on our arms either.
Friday, November 7, 2008
New?
I made this top about three months ago, heavens to Betsy how time does fly.
I've been meaning to get around to posting it this whole time.
You're just going to have to excuse the wrinkles here. I'm wearing the top today and decided after wrestling with my children and vacuuming my stairs that I should take some pictures of it, finally. So I stripped it off and photographed it wrinkles and all. (This excuse tastes familiar)
I dig the little buttoned cuff.
And the angled corners on the the pleated collar.
I intened to wear it with a chunky belt of some kind, a yellow one would be nice. But seriously, I didn't even take a photo of the thing until today. What do you think that says about the time I've had for personal fashion?
Meanwhile, I'm rockn'it beltless.
I've been meaning to get around to posting it this whole time.
You're just going to have to excuse the wrinkles here. I'm wearing the top today and decided after wrestling with my children and vacuuming my stairs that I should take some pictures of it, finally. So I stripped it off and photographed it wrinkles and all. (This excuse tastes familiar)
I dig the little buttoned cuff.
And the angled corners on the the pleated collar.
I intened to wear it with a chunky belt of some kind, a yellow one would be nice. But seriously, I didn't even take a photo of the thing until today. What do you think that says about the time I've had for personal fashion?
Meanwhile, I'm rockn'it beltless.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Gives me a thrill
Have you heard about Shabby Apple? Have you heard about the vignette contest going on right now?
I guess you know now. Join in the fun!
Here are my vignettes, enjoy!
My First Vignette; "Secretarial Skills"
(please note, the belt should be gold but there is not a photo available of the gold version)
Abby always wanted to be a secretary. She watched movies like "Thoroughly Modern Millie" and "Pillow Talk" over and over again, imagining what it would be like to work in an office some day.
Everyone knew about Abby's ambition so when she showed up at her first day of 5th grade in a smart little suit with a stenographer's notebook and a pencil clasped in her hands, no one even thought it was strange.
When she wasn't busy watching films starring glamorous women all of whom could type upwards of 100 words per minute, or working on the type writer to bring her own WPM up another notch, she was scouring fashion magazines looking for feminine professional clothes.
When she found a particularly alluring outfit she'd cut it out and paste it in her hope chest with her short-hand work book and her ten key calculator.
There was one dress that was different. It was perfect. Abby had never found a dress she loved so much. She knew this was the one. It was the dress she would wear on her first day as a real secratary.
She framed the picture and kept it at her desk. Whenever she was having a bad day, if she lost a point on her daily typing test, or missed a page in her paper clipping drills, she would picture herself in that dress taking dictation and bringing coffee, just the way the boss likes it, before he had to ask. Soon she'd be back to her old self again, re-organizing her filing system and directing calls on the practice phone system she'd devised for herself.
It worked every time.
Vignette number two, "One Step at a Time"
Joon was a compulsive matcher. If her bag didn't match her shoes, she was prone to twitching. For this reason she'd always stuck mostly to black. Because black was easy to match.
She knew that there was a wonderful world out there, full of bright coordinating and even *gasp* contrasting colors.
Joon desperately wanted to join that world. That big, bright, terrifying world. She wanted to roll in color and drip with vibrancy. She wanted to sing in aquamarine, dance in chartreuse and fly in cantaloupe. But the matching tendencies were just so ingrained that she couldn't break free.
Eventually Joon found the courage to seek help.
In recent months she has worked snatches of color into her solemn black wardrobe. A necklace here, a scarf there. She's even worked her way up to shoes!
Today is a big day for Joon. It is the day she introduces a second color into an ensemble. She's a little nervous, so if you see her, give her a smile or, even better, a compliment! If she twitches a little, just ignore it. She's getting there. One step at a time.
This one is called "Double O Style," and is served with an extra helping of corn chowder. I do like to get nice and corny now and again.
She was a secret agent. Her assignment was at a nautical themed birthday extravaganza for a brilliant and eccentric (hence the nautical birthday extraviganza) scientist.
Not a soul in the small town where he lived and conducted his research would miss the party. The old scientist's whims were the life of the town. This time though, there would be uninvited guests. Guests who were not interested in humoring the old man and his day as a bold young sea captain setting forth to seek his fortune.
Her job was to blend among the general population and ensure the safety of the "Captain"
For her wardrobe she turned to the quintessential pairing of a navy sailor dress with red shoes. What she didn't know was, she rocked that outfit way too hard to blend in anywhere.
You might think that oversight means that she wasn't very good at her job. I admit it was a weakness, but her excellence in every other aspect of her career made it such that she could carry out her responsibilities to perfection even while holding the attention of every living creature within a mile's radius.
Tonight was no exception. She mingled, chatted, and schmoozed, disarmed the ill intentioned party guests and singlehandedly put down the attempted kidnapping of the birthday boy.
Later, she reflected on that day and commended herself on a job well done. "Not one person will remember I was even there" she thought.
I already said it was a weakness.
I guess you know now. Join in the fun!
Here are my vignettes, enjoy!
My First Vignette; "Secretarial Skills"
(please note, the belt should be gold but there is not a photo available of the gold version)
Abby always wanted to be a secretary. She watched movies like "Thoroughly Modern Millie" and "Pillow Talk" over and over again, imagining what it would be like to work in an office some day.
Everyone knew about Abby's ambition so when she showed up at her first day of 5th grade in a smart little suit with a stenographer's notebook and a pencil clasped in her hands, no one even thought it was strange.
When she wasn't busy watching films starring glamorous women all of whom could type upwards of 100 words per minute, or working on the type writer to bring her own WPM up another notch, she was scouring fashion magazines looking for feminine professional clothes.
When she found a particularly alluring outfit she'd cut it out and paste it in her hope chest with her short-hand work book and her ten key calculator.
There was one dress that was different. It was perfect. Abby had never found a dress she loved so much. She knew this was the one. It was the dress she would wear on her first day as a real secratary.
She framed the picture and kept it at her desk. Whenever she was having a bad day, if she lost a point on her daily typing test, or missed a page in her paper clipping drills, she would picture herself in that dress taking dictation and bringing coffee, just the way the boss likes it, before he had to ask. Soon she'd be back to her old self again, re-organizing her filing system and directing calls on the practice phone system she'd devised for herself.
It worked every time.
Vignette number two, "One Step at a Time"
Joon was a compulsive matcher. If her bag didn't match her shoes, she was prone to twitching. For this reason she'd always stuck mostly to black. Because black was easy to match.
She knew that there was a wonderful world out there, full of bright coordinating and even *gasp* contrasting colors.
Joon desperately wanted to join that world. That big, bright, terrifying world. She wanted to roll in color and drip with vibrancy. She wanted to sing in aquamarine, dance in chartreuse and fly in cantaloupe. But the matching tendencies were just so ingrained that she couldn't break free.
Eventually Joon found the courage to seek help.
In recent months she has worked snatches of color into her solemn black wardrobe. A necklace here, a scarf there. She's even worked her way up to shoes!
Today is a big day for Joon. It is the day she introduces a second color into an ensemble. She's a little nervous, so if you see her, give her a smile or, even better, a compliment! If she twitches a little, just ignore it. She's getting there. One step at a time.
This one is called "Double O Style," and is served with an extra helping of corn chowder. I do like to get nice and corny now and again.
She was a secret agent. Her assignment was at a nautical themed birthday extravaganza for a brilliant and eccentric (hence the nautical birthday extraviganza) scientist.
Not a soul in the small town where he lived and conducted his research would miss the party. The old scientist's whims were the life of the town. This time though, there would be uninvited guests. Guests who were not interested in humoring the old man and his day as a bold young sea captain setting forth to seek his fortune.
Her job was to blend among the general population and ensure the safety of the "Captain"
For her wardrobe she turned to the quintessential pairing of a navy sailor dress with red shoes. What she didn't know was, she rocked that outfit way too hard to blend in anywhere.
You might think that oversight means that she wasn't very good at her job. I admit it was a weakness, but her excellence in every other aspect of her career made it such that she could carry out her responsibilities to perfection even while holding the attention of every living creature within a mile's radius.
Tonight was no exception. She mingled, chatted, and schmoozed, disarmed the ill intentioned party guests and singlehandedly put down the attempted kidnapping of the birthday boy.
Later, she reflected on that day and commended herself on a job well done. "Not one person will remember I was even there" she thought.
I already said it was a weakness.
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