Playdate

"You're not the boss of me."

That's the sass that's been coming out of Hannah's mouth for the past week or so.

Charming.

It usually comes in response to me telling her something like, "Hannah, it's time to get your shoes on now. We're getting ready to leave."

This morning I was done with it.

So me:

" Au contraire.

While it is true that you are in control of your body: what goes into it, where it comes out, and who may touch you when and how, I am in fact in charge of everything else. You may choose to do something different than what I ask or tell you to do, but that also means you are choosing the consequence of ignoring or disobeying me.

So, yes Dear Bean, I am most certainly the boss of you."

So Hannah:

"Ummmmm ... no you're not."

Then she giggled and ran away.

Pretty sure I broke her this time.

ed note: That picture was taken in October, but it came closest to capturing the sassy expression that accompanies the sassy expression.

All in the name of scientific advancement

I know it looks like some sort of cruel torture device on poor Miriam's head. But really I'm just letting the good folks at the Rutgers Baby Lab use her as a language development guinea pig. That thing on her head is a Geodesic Sensor Net; it measures brain activity in response to sound.

She was really pretty patient as they put it on her head and then adjusted each of the little sponge-covered sensors. And she probably lasted through a good 15 minutes of the actual test.

But then she slipped a finger behind one of the elastic bands that ran from the bonnet, across her cheeks and to the strap under her chin. She pulled on it, and SNAP!

Needless to say she wasn't very happy after that. She was too pissed off to even nurse.

We've only been twice, and so far it's been very interesting. And Miriam, of course, has just been a model subject.

There was only one awkward thing: being video taped playing with Miriam. Seems straight forward enough, but it was really kind of strange.

They led us into a room with a bunch of toys -- soft blocks, brightly colored balls, stacky cups, etc. --  scattered across a blanket on the floor. And then one of the researchers says, "OK, so just play with her, nurse her if you need to, and we're going to video tape. I'll be back in 15 minutes."

She was out the door before I could process it.

It's not that I minded being video taped -- I knew that would be part of the deal -- but I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with all that stuff.

Miriam is just now getting control of her hands, so I really don't play with her with toys. I do a lot of tickling, and kissing, and nuzzling. And I do a lot of talking to her as I carry her around in the sling doing stuff around the house, walking the dog, grocery shopping, taking the kids to and from school ...

I had no idea what to do. I don't really think I said much of anything for what seemed like an awkwardly long time. But the I found myself saying things like:

"See the red ball, Miriam? Ooh, bumpy!"

and

"Look at the duck. That duck is riding on a saaaiiil boat."

Not that there's anything wrong with that, but that is just not how I talk to Miriam.

I guess I need to tell them Monday that that was some impostor they got on video tape.

Red Alert!

I've been expecting this. The obsession has begun.

Connor watched Star Wars for the first time last week. He's seen episodes IV, V and VI and he loved them - but I think his dad may have been even more excited. Connor's already perfected some light saber-like sound effects. Really, does someone take boys aside and teach them that stuff?

Today he was at a friend's house and his friend has a light saber or two. He was kind enough to lend both to Connor for a few days and Connor could barely contain himself.

Soon after we got home he said this:

Mommy? You know Nate? Nate has The Force. He can use the light saber with his eyes closed. I have it a little bit.

I think he wanted to sleep with those pretend agents of death but I didn't like the idea of him and Emma swinging sticks at each other at 6:45 AM. I'm a mean mommy. But I love my little nerd.

"You don't see those very often!"

Is what local pest-control extraordinaire, Jerry Buckingham, said to me. 

I'm not big on animals. 

Well, I like the friendly domesticated kinds.  I like watching animals in their habitat.  I just don't like wild animals in MY habitat.  Last year's Spring bunnies on our front lawn was almost too much nature for me.  When I thought it was a nest of rats, I mustered up all the courage I could find to expose the nest.  I figured nature's food chain (the vultures) would take care of things for me.  There are vultures in Maplewood, right?  When it became clear that they were bunnies, all of a sudden their cuteness factor increased exponentially.  They are very cute...

...until most of them die and I have to extract the live ones from under their siblings for the animal rescuer to take.  Not cute at all.

In the nine years we've been living here, I've only come across one (dead) mouse under my laundry basket.  Lovely, right?  See why I don't like nature in my habitat?

Sunday night I was cleaning up and I heard scampering above the kitchen ceiling.  I went upstairs to check on the boys.  All three of them were sleeping.  I woke one of them, my husband, and told him about the noises.  He came down and we determined that there was indeed an animal between our floor joists.  Just a 5/8" thin sheet of gypsum wall board separated me from this mystery creature.  I did NOT like this scenario.

First thing Monday morning, I called the exterminator.  He, thankfully, came within 30 minutes.  He saw no signs of mice (or any other animal) droppings in our basement.  Thank you.  After our recent basement renovation, we're down there almost everyday.  I would hate to know we're not alone.  The attic was another story.  In the eaves (I've only peeked into them once in nine years) he found squirrel droppings that were old, which is a good thing as far as finding animal poop in your house is concerned.  Then, he nicely pointed out the more recent mice droppings.  Aaeeeeeehhhhhh!!!!!  In the other eave, he found some more mouse poop then said, "Well you don't see those very often."  There in the corner of my attic was our little scamperer staring back at us. 

A flying squirrel.

If not for the fact that he is an uninvited, unwelcomed guest in my home, he would be very cute.  Looked like a chipmunk with a fuzzy tail.  Well, after a glance I had seen enough and decided to return downstairs.  Owen, the ever curious animal LOVER, was at the bottom of the stairs.  He was VERY upset when I wouldn't take him up to meet our flying squirrel.  Luckily, Jerry helped my case and Owen reluctantly acquiesced.

Later that morning, Jerry came back to set up some traps with peanut butter.  Now I have to listen for the SNAP! and the CLANGING of moving traps in my attic.  {{{shudder}}} .

Unlike the crazies who took this picture, I will NOT keep mine (or any of his potential friends) for a pet.

 

Best sound bites of the week

"Global warming is a total crock of shit."
    -- GM Vice Chairman Bob Lutz, speaking to reporters about why he is behind development of a plug in hybrid.  Turns out he's more interested in lessening dependence on foreign oil than in "saving the planet."

"Lipitor makes women stupid."
    -- Vice Chairman of Medicine at NY Presbyterian Hospital, Orli Etingin, at a recent luncheon discussing gender issues and the brain.  This is all anecdotal, of course.  We need more studies.

In other news, enjoy the snow!

I wish I knew why my wireless doesn't work

High Tea

When Hannah bought a teeny tiny tea set "for me" for Christmas, and then proceeded to make me play with it every day, I knew what to do for her third birthday. Little girl needed a tea party!

Tea parties require tea sets, of course, so I spent hours pouring over eBay listings for vintage child-sized tea sets. I bid on and lost several before finally winning one very cute little lustreware tea set with a floral pattern.

I also spent hours researching and planning the menu:

Tea Sandwiches: cucumber on pumpernickel; pineapple cream cheese; ham spread
Fresh scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam (my mother's homemade, of course)
Fresh berries
Birthday cake: Coffee Cream Torte from the Blueberry Hill Menu Cookbook
Tea served with sugar cubes and  cream

Everything was delicious, but some things were a big hit with the adults, but not so much the kids. For example, here's a picture of Hannah looking for somewhere to spit her cucumber sandwich:

Other things, like the Blueberry Rooibos tea, were a much bigger hit with the kids than the adults.

But I could have made three times as many scones and still not had enough.

What was fun for me was how much fun everyone had, even my sister who seemed dubious at the beginning and my ten-year-old nephew who sneered "Boys don't drink tea."

And especially my Hannah Bean.

Take if off! Take it ALL off!

I love getting my hair cut. Especially when going from long to short.

There's just something so exciting and satisfying about watching my hair pile up on the floor and wondering what the finished product is going to look like.

My most recent hair cut was so terribly long, LONG overdue. It had been well over a year (I shudder to think how much over!) since I last got a hair cut.

I cut it super-short right before Hannah was born (February 2005), and kept it that way through the summer. But by Christmas, I was getting tired of it, decided to grow it out, and was moving into what I call "The Perpetual Icky Stage":

A year later, Christmas 2006, it was looking pretty good:

But, it was down hill from there. I was soon doing what I eventually end up doing every time I grow my hair out: wearing it in a ponytail or sloppy knot ALL-THE-TIME.

I mean, really, when you find yourself wearing your hair the same way every day, no matter what you're doing ...

Walking the kids to school ...

Having friends over for New Years ...

Or, I don't know, GIVING BIRTH!

Then maybe, just maybe, it's time for a change!

This is the best I could do for a "before" picture. It was taken the one time in the past year that I actually wore my hair down, Miriam's naming ceremony, Dec. 2007:

And this is what it looked like this past weekend at Hannah's third birthday party:

 

How long, do you think, before the cycle starts all over again?

Start Your Engines!

The NASCAR race season kicked off today with the 50th running of the Daytona 500.  You know my boys are psyched!  #12 Ryan Newman (or as Will and Milo refer to him, Ryman Newman) came from out of nowhere on the last lap to win his first race in over two years.  Good for him.

I'm taking the boys to the speedway for a tour while we're down in Florida next week.  They'll get a big kick out of it.   

Back when I was a kid, I loved going to the races.  It cost $5 to drive your car into the infield to watch.  You could only see the racecars as they banked around the turns so folks would climb on top of their truck/van/car roofs to try to get a better view.  The seats in the stands were something like $25 - too rich for our blood - but compared to the tickets for today's race which started at $300, quite the bargain in retrospect.  I don't even know if they let the riffraff park in the infield anymore.  When did racing get so fancy?

Anyway, I don't care - I'm glad the races are broadcast nationally so I don't ever have to miss The Great American Race.  I think I heard that they are thinking of building a track on Staten Island.  If so, I'm totally making all of you go with me.  Start saving your pennies.

Boogity Boogity Boogity!

Riddle me this...

How is it that Congress (Congress!) has nothing better to do lately than see if some baseball player took steroids?  Hello? 

Okay, so... this hearing, as best I can tell, is held by the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee.  Maybe I'm missing that baseball subcommittee, but I don't think it's there.

And why is it falling down partisan lines?  Have we come to that now?

Well, at least we don't have, like, elections or a war to worry about.  So, you know, THAT'S good...