Melting Snow

So Green We're Still White

All right, full discretion--we have seen a snowplow on our street. Twice. And once on the adjoining street. But those plows are not actually there to clear the roads--which explains why the street didn't look much different after they passed. It turns out that the policy of Seattle and the adjoining cities is to avoid salting the roads or causing any scraping damage. Instead they decided to simply sand, flatten, and pack the snow (often leaving plowed ridges that block side roads). Check out this explanation:

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2008551284_snowcleanup23m.html

The effect: the last few days the city roads have been sanded packed snow. Not a problem for snow tires or cars with chains--until they hit the freeways which the state keeps clear. Today, on the other hand, with rain and a few degrees higher temperature, the snow turned to slush. It's like driving in 6 inches of mashed potatoes. Not to mention the places the snow has worn away or been gouged by chains, leaving potholes and washboard ridges. Driving over it today was like driving into the national forest behind North Bend--and that's a dirt road. Yesterday Lar got the minivan up a steep hill on the way to my folks' house. Today we lost traction halfway up, and had to back down and take a three-mile detour.

The Seattle mayor has awarded the city a "B" for snow response. We think he's over-optimistic. Or delusional.

Brown Bishop

A discussion today about elections led me to mention to the children that our country has just elected a black president.

"We have a brown bishop," Alex offered.

Since our bishop is a bald Caucasian, I had to ask what he meant.

"He wears a brown jacket," Alex explained. "That makes him a brown bishop."

Snow Day III

Lar decided to work from home today, after several more inches of snow last night, on top of an ice layer. Freezing rain early Sunday morning left a layer of ice, window-glass thick, on top of several inches of snow. Walking on it sounded like the boom of hollow floorboards. Katherine loved sticking her arm under the ice, making horizontal snow tunnels as long as her arm. Today warmed up a bit, so we had water dripping off our deck forming long icicles on the wisteria, and the sticky snow was finally perfect for snowmen. The kids and I put one together in just a few minutes, but as we were trying to figure out how to decorate it Lar came out and proposed modifications. A few minutes pushing with him gave us a snowball as high as our waists. I left mid-project to try to round up sledding buddies, but Lar persevered and built a monster snowman, using a ramp of two-by-fours to roll the second huge snowball on top of the first one (the snowball collected chalk outlines from where the kids drew on the boards this summer). Like the Egyptian pyramids, this engineering feat caused much wonder. We found a schoolmate of Katherine's a few blocks away (Katherine knew where his house was because he gets off the bus right before she does) and invited him over; he showed up with his Mom, Dad, older sister on skis, and family dog. Great times.

Put that together with water-coloring this morning, playing the piano, visiting the neighbor, and having family home evening (impromptu fasting lesson plus a super-impromptu game of Jaredite barge) it has been a full day! The snow is so deep and sticky I feel just as if I'm back at Snoqualmie pass, minus the skis. Weather reports predict one more day of this, a possible light snowfall, and then rain, rain, rain. That's winter, Seattle-style.

Bedtime Ailments

When Katherine goes to bed, she starts to notice all sorts of things about which she decides it is imperative to inform us. Here are a few that we've heard in the last month:
--I'm thirsty
--My throat hurts
--My tummy hurts
--My forehead hurts
--My skin is dry
--My finger itches
--My hair is rubbing my neck
--My bed makes me more awake
--I feel too stretchy
--I just don't feel right

Dreaming of a White Kirkland

For all you naysayers who don't believe in snow:

Snow Day II

A snow day in Seattle is practically a city holiday. Offices cancel appointments, stores close, people stay off the roads if they can (wise, because the radio has been reporting accidents all over town). School is canceled, kids are sledding, everybody's out walking. We see neighbors we haven't seen for months.

If it is a holiday, Alex could be the mascot. He and Katherine were out sledding earlier, and then after we walked to the store Alex kept playing. Dad and I went out with him. He loved sledding ("fast, Grandpa!), laughed when we chucked snowballs at the shed, assaulted us with snow whenever he could (he's too little to make a snowball, so he just had to try to plaster handfuls right onto us), loved pretending the fence was a snow fort, and gamely tried to find a stick "for smacking a snow-covered tree." It was a pretty skinny stick, so he wasn't able to knock much snow down, but he enjoyed the effort. He was very impressed when I started catching snowflakes with my tongue--"do it again, Mommy!" To a three-year-old boy, snowstorms are nothing but fun.

So Katherine stayed home today (this snow day actually had snow), Lar stayed in because he didn't want to drive back up the long hill when he came home, we decorated the tree, pulled the kids on a sled to the store, had hot chocolate, and danced to Christmas music. Half to cram all the snow adventures into one day, because we never know when it will snow again. Although this snow looks like it'll be around for awhile.

Happy snow day.

Half Naked

When Alex comes out of the bathroom with a bare bottom:

Laramie: Go put some clothes on. Don't run around naked!

Alex: I'm half naked!

Laramie: Well, it's the wrong half.

Snow Day

When I woke up this morning I wondered if school would be canceled for snow--they'd been talking about it the night before. I listened to the radio and checked the website, but didn't see anything for Kirkland, so I roused Katherine. Laramie had to stumble out of bed to tell me that yes, school in the Lake Washington district was in fact canceled. Oops.

But it was an easy mistake to make. There was no new snow on the ground, nothing different from yesterday. Today is so much warmer than the last few days that the ice on our street has finally melted to slush, there's water dripping off our roof, and patches of blue sky outside. So why was school canceled? Because there was a chance it would snow.

Ye residents of Idaho, Utah, Colorado, and Massachusetts, remember that Seattle has many inexperienced snow drivers, few snowplows, and lots of hills, as you laugh your heads off.

Snow

There's two inches of snow on the ground, and this morning the temperature dipped to 19 degrees, breaking a 44-year-old record. But that hasn't fazed Alex. When I asked him to get pants on this morning, he reappeared in the hallway with his swimsuit and said, "I want to play in the sprinklers!"

We went sledding instead.

Cathedral Scheme

Katherine has decided we should build me a cathedral, since I really love them. She says we can put it next to our house ("We don't really need the lawn, do we, Mommy?") or have it somewhere else ("like Grandpa's cabin isn't by his house"). For labor, she suggests we put up a sign to tell people that they can pay money to help build the cathedral. Sounds great to me! Who's in?

Alex says

I want broken pajamas with no feet. (Two piece pajamas)

Wishes

Found my exercise band--that's one wish granted, and it's not even Christmas yet!

Umbrella Lessons

Katherine decided a few weeks ago that she needed an umbrella, so we found her a very cute one at Goodwill. As soon as she got home, she offered to teach Alex "Umbrella lessons." Every so often she renews the offer, and they go out on the porch where she helps him open and close the umbrella. I guess umbrella teaching is yet another field with a lax certification process.

What I really want

Can haves, can't haves, might haves, might never haves--these are the ones I can think of

--books that are as fabulous as the dragon series by Novik
--annual reports from the British Portable Antiquities Scheme, because nothing makes for fun family reading like illustrated archaeological reports
--a vacuum cleaner that works--hey, I'm vacuuming again (now that baby rolls around on the carpet finding things)
--a piano bench that's tall enough without textbooks piled on top
--my banister
--and my fence
--to fix the leak in my kitchen faucet
--replacements for my broken blinds
--the Leavitt calendar
--a medieval calendar
--long sleeved Shade-type shirts
--warm cute cardigans and cardigan lessons
--to learn how to play really complicated jazzy chords
--to find my missing exercise band
--cute pants that fit
--a designer's advice on where to hang my framed pictures
--fun dates
--the perfect plan to arrange the kids in bedrooms without losing my study
--nice soft lovely background music that is real classical music and not muzak
--peace and QUIET

Baby Art

Becca has discovered a fabulous new pastime: spit up on the floor, then fingerpaint with it! What fun.

A simple solution

(Alex, on seeing that the Kitchenaid cord was dangling off the counter)

Alex: The floor needs to be higher, mommy.
Me: Why?
Alex: Because the cord is falling down. That means it will stretch and break if it's not on the floor. So we should make the floor higher.

Thanksgiving highlights

--Thanksgiving day candy experiments: testing acidity with purple indicator and baking soda
--Four kinds of pie
--Post-Thanksgiving visit to WWII airplane museum, where my brother David carried his buddy Alex most of the time and Katherine had to examine each airplane. Highlights for the kids: planes that were painted with a tiger mouth, an umbrella-holding pelican, and a lady. Highlight for me: when one docent remarked how good the kids had been
--Visit to Seattle Art Museum to see Edward Hopper exhibit; afterwards, both kids hopped around outside in commemoration
--Making turkey soup with homemade noodles (I had to steal some turkey fragments from Laramie's soup pile to make myself one tiny traditional post-thanksgiving sandwich)

Kid Rules

Katherine and Alex's tic-tac-toe game, Katherine has two in a row.
Katherine tells Alex, "No, you have to go here to block me!" Helps him make the X to her satisfaction. Continues to coach him as they reach a draw.
At the end of the fourth turn, Alex looks at the board. "You have four and I have four. We win!"

Jokes

Today Katherine asked what teasing was. I tried to explain that teasing was like joking, or maybe it means making fun of someone. "But what's a joke?" she said.

I was stumped. I told her it's saying something funny, but then I couldn't think of any. Finally I tried to explain with a Knock, knock joke: "Knock knock. Who's there? Orange. Orange, who? Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" It was the only one I could think of, and I think I left out a major part. So my explanation wasn't very clear.

Still, Alex was fascinated and decided to give it a try.
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"A banana with two mouths1"

and
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"A banana with feet!"

To Sit Down

There is always too much to do. Feed one child. Deliver to school. Feed another child. Clean up mess. Feed them again. Do laundry. Vacuum (yes, I do vacuum once in a great while). Pay bills, make appointments, answer mail. Herd children to the bathroom, to play outside, to come back inside, to quiet time (never need to herd them out of it.) Feed children. Clean up. Herd children to bed. Collapse, sleep (too little) and repeat.

Tonight I read in Alma 7 his promise to the righteous of the valley of Gideon: that ye may at last be brought to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the holy prophets who have been ever since the world began, having your garments spotless even as their garments are spotless, in the kingdom of heaven to go no more out. Never mind the crowns, the spotless garments, the company of exalted prophets. Right now, just sitting down sounds like heaven to me.

Drinks

"Alex, don't you want a coat? It's raining outside."
"I want my hair to have a drink from the rain."

"And don't you want shoes in case you step in a puddle?"
"No, I want my toes to have a drink."

Hitting

“This is Alex hitting me and me saying, ‘It’s all right—let’s pick up the leaves!’”
by Katherine

Prizes!

Alex's picture

Katherine's picture

Results from the local grocery store coloring contest, which we entered only to see if they would put the kids' pictures up on the wall. Surprise! Alex won first place in his category--probably for his exuberance.

Post Halloween

Katherine and Alex had a great time doing experiments with their Halloween candy. These involved comparing hot/warm/cold water for dissolving, mixing colors, and lots of stirring.

Walking in the Rain

Waking up early always reminds me of moving to England, where the time lag kept us tired for a week or two. And walking reminds me of England as well, because the main University campus was miles away and taking the bus hardly saved any time. Walking in the rain especially reminds me of England, because we visited Fountains Abbey (a ruin with no ceilings) and the adjoining gardens on the day of a rainstorm that started an internationally-reported flood. We had to walk four miles back to town that day, in coats but no rain jackets (so embarrassing for Seattle residents), with an umbrella that protected my head but directed torrents of water onto my backpack. Ah, England.

So when I got up this morning, yawning, to get Katherine ready for school, and saw rain outside, I felt a little pang of homesickness. Halfway to school, I parked the car and got her out. And we walked to school in the rain.

Cough, cough, cough

Rebecca picked up a new mannerism in the middle of all her nighttime wailing--an introductory coughing fit. If she's discontented, or about to start into a serious squall, we start to hear it: cough, cough, cough. "No wonder," says Laramie, "since she sees Mommy coughing all the time.

The Mary Poppins Camel

The Mary Poppins camel started appearing about a month and a half ago (right after my kids watched Mary Poppins at Grandma's house). It's a Lego camel with an extra set of arms behind the hump that the kids zoom around the room or throw down the stairs. Yesterday I finally asked why it was a Mary Poppins camel. "The arms help it fly," Katherine explained. "Like Mary Poppins!"

Pullman Visit

<

Flying Stegasaurus & Other oddities

 

Halloween Drama

An Impromptu Performance--with dialog!

K: You say, "I'm a witch and I'll eat you up."
A: No.
K: You want to be a monster? OK, you say, "I'm a monster and I'll eat you up."
A: I'm a monster and I'll eat you up!
K: Now stomp over to us. You want to run or stomp?
A: Stomp. (Starts running)
K: (Squeal) He's coming to get us! (Runs)
(The following lines delivered running circles)
A: The dinosaur is the monster.
K: No, you are the monster.
A: I'm the witch, actually.
K: OK, you be the witch.

Mistborn

Just finished Brandon Sanderson's new Mistborn book, Hero of the Ages. Loved the ending--it worked very well. Elantris is still my favorite of his books, but this trilogy wrapped up nicely and was a lot of fun. I highly recommend him to all fantasy lovers!

Role Playing

Me: Alex, what do you do when Mommy says it's time to go?
Alex: I come with you.

Me: Alex, what do you do when Mommy says it's time to clean up the blocks?
Alex: I clean up the blocks.

Me: Alex, what do you do when Mommy says it's time to go potty?
Alex: I run to the bathroom, go potty, and wash my hands.

Me: Alex, what do you do if Katherine has a toy and you want to play with it?
Alex: I run to the bathroom, go potty, and wash my hands!

CSA Coleslaw

Ingredients:
Half a head of cabbage
Half a bulb of fennel
2 apples (plus the ones you forgot to peel for your husband's pie)
The green pepper strips you couldn't get the kids to finish
Plain yogurt

Finely dice cabbage, fennel, and peppers. Chop apples.
Mix and add yogurt.
Top with a small spoonful of sugar and mix. Yum!

Now I just need to tackle the CSA lettuce, the radishes, the dandelion greens, the fennel fronds, the turnips, and the arugula.

Daylight Savings Time?

Woke up at the proper time, 7:42, just as the radio announcer read off the time, 8:42. Daylight savings time, yelled Lar, and practically shoved me out of bed because we only had twenty minutes to get Katherine to church before the primary program started. I hurried to get breakfast for the kids and take the fastest shower ever, checking the clocks in the kitchen on the way. The radio was right. But it wasn't daylight savings time, I realized, because it's supposed to be spring forward, fall back. Turns out it was just Laramie's crazy clock, which is programmed to reset itself on Daylight Savings change day, and neglected to read the newspaper when Congress changed the dates. I think we need to persuade it we live in Arizona.

Update: Turns out our clock doesn't have an Arizona setting. You are stuck with Daylight Savings Time. Let's just hope the Primary Program doesn't fall on the same day next year.

Riddles

K: I am clear and people drink me. What am I?
Me: Water? Or what about apple juice?
K: I said clear, Mom! Apple juice is yellow and clear.
Me: OK, water.

K: I am clear and people pour water and liquids into me. What am I?
Me: A pitcher?
K: And people use me to drink.
Me: A glass.

A: What's silver and has a button and batteries?
Me: A flashlight! (It was sitting on the counter.)

A: What's black and has a button and no batteries?
Me: A flashlight?
A: I said no batteries, Mom.
Me: Hm...I don't know.
A: A glasses case!

A: What's white and has a handle.
Lar: A pitcher? A teapot?
A: No, what's white and has two handles? A teapot only has one handle.
We're still working on this one.

Destination: Mirror Lake

Just off forest service road 5480, and about 10 miles from the freeway. Since we were driving a minivan, we had to park below the trailhead, and our hike was about 1.5 miles to the lake with 700 feet elevation gain. Mirror lake is the larger of the two, there were patches of snow along the trail, but the view on the south was incredible.

 

The Hike

 
 
 

Where in Carnation

Chutzpah, I think, is the word Grandpa was looking for before he called me at 11am Friday to salvage a boy scout camping trip to Macdonald park. Katherine and I went; she was so excited and had a blast.



 

The Parents' Royal "We"

Like kings, queens, and emperors, I find myself using "We" a lot these days. Except when a parent uses it, it means the opposite. A queen saying "We are not amused" refers to herself. A parent telling a child "We need to go potty" refers to the child. I do it all the time. "We need to clean up your room." i.e. "you'd better do it fast!" "We need to get ready." i.e. "You'd better get your shoes and coat before I walk out the door!" And "We need to eat dinner" almost certainly means the kids will be fed as soon as they sit down, but my dinner won't be for hours yet.

A few nights ago my husband got home from work and collapsed in a chair. "Did we take out the garbage?" he asked. At first I was offended--was he trying to claim some credit when I had done the work? Then I realized it was all right: he was just using the Parents' Royal "We."

PS

Katherine can now read well enough to read over my shoulder as I type. I'd better be careful what I write!

Goggles

Katherine has decided swim goggles are useful for all sorts of things. She wore them in the car to protect her eyes. She is wearing them outside while she rides her bike, and encouraging Alex to wear his too, for safety. The kids have decided they need to wear goggles for fights, in case someone gets poked in the eye (fights with the bad guys, that is, not with each other!) And swimming, of course.

School Night

At church our friends asked if we wanted to come over tonight. We have done this lots of times--take the kids over, let them run around like mad until we can finally convince them to lie down, and then let them sleep until we leave. We turned them down because my sister was in town today. But then I realized the hard truth--Katherine has school in the morning!

No more late night Sunday socializing. It's a school night.

Destination: Talapus Lake

View Larger Map

The trail is about 2 miles to the lake with about 1100ft elevation gain. While google seems to think that a road goes right to the lake, in fact, the lake is just in the boundary of the Alpine Lakes wilderness, so follow forest service road 9030 to the trailhead.

The Hike

real blessings from pneumonia

friends who bring dinner, and who are great cooks!

kids got only coughs, Rebecca got runny nose, Katherine could still go to school (we did make sure to discuss this with the doctor)

a funny doctor who was so sympathetic

mom helping out

spiritual boost from reading 2 1/2 years of ensigns

still could think about YW lesson, editing for Andrea

I could actually sleep in the recliner

Google food

good medications

acceptance

Baby Play

Our new Leavitt family:
Mommy--Katherine
Daddy--Alex
Baby--Bolly (a dried-up rhododendron leaf)

After Bolly's discovery and adoption this morning, he was carried around in a bucket, given a ride on a swing (they hooked the bucket to one of the ropes), taken to the circus, and given a two-year-old sister, Laisa (another rhododendron leaf). Makes me wonder what the kids would do with Becca if they could fit her in the bucket.

More music

Alex sings:

Becca is my baby small,
But she is growing up so tall,
Bo, baby, bo, baby, bo bo bo

A Sunny Saturday!

On Saturday we actually saw sunshine! We took the kids to a friend's house so Dad could help them to dig potatoes and carrots, pull beets, and choose pumpkins. The sunshine inspired Laramie to call a friend and arrange an expedition to the mountains (city living makes him antsy). Choosing the site and arranging the expedition took most of the day, but by evening Lar had brought us to a tiny lake ringed with mountains. It was pretty cold by then, but Lar warmed us all up by roasting hot dogs and cooking S'mores over the grill (he got mine good and melted, so that when I grabbed it chocolate squished out all over my fingers). What a wonderful way to spend a fall day.

The Roman Soldiers are Coming to Town--with Santa Claus!

Alex (singing): The Roman soldiers are going to town, the Roman soldiers are going to town, the Roman soldiers are going to town. (This might have been inspired by the Romans in the crucifixion story in the kids' New Testament, which Alex calls "the sad part.")

Me: Where did you learn that song?

Alex: I made it up. (Pause) It was on a CD. With Santa Claus.
(singing) Santa Claus is coming to town, with the Roman soldiers. Santa Claus is coming to town with the Roman soldiers. Santa Claus is coming to town with the Roman soldiers. And they're all going to ride the bus!

Later
Alex (singing): Santa's soldiers are coming to town, coming to town, coming to town. Santa's soldiers are coming to town.

Things I am grateful for today

Kids who play with each other (even if their play includes Alex pushing on Becca's tummy, lego-throwing, rocking Becca vigorously in her saucer)

Central heating (Alex made a "fireplace" out of blankets in the middle of the rug the other day, and I told the kids how early medieval houses used to all have fires in the middle of the room--glad we don't anymore!)

Sunshine--hey, we see a little of it in the morning these days, even if it goes dark gray by afternoon

Home grown grapes--Laramie's grape plant struggled the first year it was planted, sat dormant for a few years, exploded last year, and this year has produced 6 bunches of plump purple grapes. (Our garden also also successfully produced dozens of green tomatoes.)

Books--I have been drowning my sorrows by reading the Miles Vorkosigan space-opera books; his life is much more complicated than mine!

Katherine's school--she came home today with another really funny dancing song. They have an actual music teacher at her school, and her kindergarten teacher sings. I don't know whether she likes music class better, or library; she told Lar that she wished every day was Tuesday (library day). She loves being able to choose her own books to check out, and is proud of each one.

Andrea's thesis--editing it for her makes me feel useful, even if all I do is confuse her (it feels so strange to be helping with my last sibling's last school assignment!)

Laramie bringing home dinner today

Chocolate

Katherine these days

Thursday: I wish today was a Saturday because then Dad would be home.
Saturday: I wish everyday was a Tuesday because then I could go to school.

Mushroom Tea

Mushroom tea, mushroom tea
Meant to cure all that's been ailing me
Bitter as bitter as bitter can be
Is Grandpa' mushroom tea.

Mushroom tea, mushroom tea
Made from a mushroom that grows on a tree
So bitter even with honey
Grandpa's mushroom tea.

(think Portobello Road)

Sweet Stolen Time

It's not just that I can eat chocolate when my kids aren't looking. Or sink my brain into a novel (grown-up talk!) It's not just walking to the mailbox without drawing protest, or lying down and nap if I need to. It's simply freedom.

Lovely as they are, children are demanding. They demand food, toys, nose squeezes (Alex, whose nose has been running overtime). Most of all, they demand attention. Look at me, mommy. Look at me signing "I love you" a dozen times in a row. Look at me somersault, jump, kick my feet. Look at my Lego creation. Watch me read. Answer my questions. Listen to my song. A few hours of this and I'm drained.

That's why I enforce "quiet time." It's not very quiet anymore--the kids retreat, reluctantly into their bedroom, play together, fight, cry. Occasionally something will bang against the wall. But at least they're out of sight. And I can focus my attention on something else. Bills, for example. Writing, theoretically. Chocolate. Me.

Buzz

Alex: "Mommy, there's a spider in the window. No, it's a bee."

Me: "It's not a bee, it's a fly."

Alex: "But the back of it bees!"
(i.e. its back buzzes.)

12 Great Things About Pneumonia

You learn to spell it.

You bond with pneumonia-stricken book characters.

Ditto pioneers.

Ditto ancestors.

You have an excuse to take lots of naps.

And hot baths.

You get to watch all the TV you want. (Although it's not as much fun when you've lost the channel changer, or when the channel changer conks out leaving you stuck in the Preview Channel.) And people loan you really fun movies.

Also really fun books, which, although completely unintelligible during the worst days, are a comfort thereafter.

You get to meet lots of doctors. (The last one was so funny I think I'll make her my PCP.)

You get to skip church.

Also kindergarten drop-offs.

Everybody tells you you're skinny.

A One-Woman Army

In a previous post I referred to people who helped me during my sickness. In fact, "people" = Mom. When I was too sick to work, my mother practically took over my household. She visited every day, switching off with Laramie when he was forced back to work, taking Katherine and Alex to her house or watching all the kids here so I could rest and visit the doctor. She brought food that we could prepare quickly, and served dinner. She sorted loads of laundry, cleaned my kitchen, and picked up our produce bag from the store. She kept watching my children even after they both developed colds, because I didn't dare spread their germs to any other families. A few days ago she took Katherine home and sewed her a Halloween costume.

One day, while she was visiting, I read her a quote from an old Ensign article, that said we never stop being parents, but must always nurture our children. "That's true," she said, as she continued scrubbing my table. And she has.

Calling June Cleaver

If I ever made any snap judgments about mothers who gave in and got nannies, maids, or take-out, I take it all back. All of it. I want it all. Things are crazy around here, even when I'm not sick. In fact, being sick helps a lot, because helpful people bring food and take your kids away. When you're not sick, you have to provide the food and watch the kids, who somehow get louder and shriller at dinnertime. And clean the house--that is, dream of cleaning the house. This is getting harder, with our kitchen slowly disappearing under school handouts, Alex spilling his milk at every meal (today, after I forbade him milk, he spilled his water), and Becca spitting up on the floor without warning.

No wonder the feminists say June Cleaver was a myth.

Counting Ratatouille

6 Cloves garlic
5 Tomatoes (Chopped)
4 Summer Squash (Zucchini, Crook Neck, etc. Diced 1/2 inch)
3 Onions (Diced)
3 Red Bell Peppers (Diced)
2 Eggplants, Small--or 1 Large (Diced 1/2 inch)
1 Bunch basil (tied).

Salt the eggplant, set aside to sweat, then squeeze out a bit more moisture & dry.
Fry the eggplant in olive oil until golden. Set aside.
Sautee onions in olive oil, cook until soft & golden.
Add garlic. Add basil. Cook a few minutes.
Add peppers. Cook a few minutes.
Add squash. Cook a few minutes.
Add tomatoes. Cook about 15 minutes.
Add eggplant & cook a few more minutes until everything tastes good.
Remove basil.
Salt to taste. Garnish with basil & olive oil.

Thanks, Alice Waters, every CSA subscriber needs a copy of Chez Panisse Vegetables. What a great way to clean out the fridge.

When Daddy entertains the kids

Climbing wall at REI: Katherine went up twice and loved it (a 5.5 and a 5.6), but Alex was too short.

Games My Children Play

Sitting around these last several weeks, I've had lots of time to watch my kids amuse themselves. In addition to traditional blocks, train tracks, roads, and books, they invent all sorts of pastimes:

--Train ride: Katherine passes out tickets (game cards or airplane pictures) and tells everybody we are riding the train to England. Train trips may or may not include perusal of stained glass books.

--Shoe store: The kids line up all their shoes and as many of yours as they can grab (one of each set; to see the other shoe you have to ask to try them on). You then pay with numbered game cards, which double as money. Cost: My black shoes, $2; Mom's purple slides, $3; Katherine's pink socks, $4.

--Counting cards: Katherine has also used her cards to count friends, lay out her house address, make up house addresses, and start our telephone number (with only half a deck left and a lot of big numbers she didn't get far). Her deck contains 8 sets of cards numbered 1-4, which she combines to get bigger numbers.

--Putting on a show: Katherine and Alex have enjoyed doing this for a long time, dressing up and then putting on a "play" in which they independently compose and perform songs spur-of-the-moment while running in circles. Last night Katherine put on a show for her fussy baby sister, which consisted of dancing and jumping in front of her, singing original lyrics, and explaining in asides to Daddy that the show was a mystery in which they were trying to find people. Rebecca was entranced.

--Singing: Katherine and Alex both sing about all sorts of things. Today at dinner Katherine made up a song about an ant that ate an avocado and turned into a bee. She has also made up songs for Rebecca, one of which she repeats often: "I love my baby, tiny little thing. She's so cute, but cannot sing."

--Echo Singing: Katherine and Alex love to sing, and often sing together, but this becomes difficult when one of them is making up the lyrics on the spot. This morning I heard them overcome this problem by echoing. Katherine would sing a line, and Alex would repeat it. They created a whole song about toys this way.

Things I am tired of

Being tired

New variations on my old illness: first a horrible cold with runny nose, a recurring sore throat and laryngitis, not being able to sing, aching chest pains after yesterday's 10-block walk to Katherine's school, sinus problems, recurring weariness so severe I didn't even check the mail today, trouble sleeping

Becca having trouble sleeping (I put her down three times today to try for a nap, but she wasn't buying. And she's not sleepy now. How does she do that?)

Not being able to do what I want--cook dinner, cook all the vegetables we are drowning under, go on walks, take my kids to the park

Missing activities--Chocolate fondue party at Aubrey's, Seattle Rep performance tonight in company of Mom and Ruth, women's conference (OK, honesty, I forgot about it. But I couldn't have gone anyway), bookclub, taking Katherine to her Raccoon Rally, lunch with Dad today, plus library trips and dance classes I couldn't sign the kids up for

My same books (after no library trips)

The clutter in my house

Being sick!!!

Swinging

For weeks, we have been trying to teach Alex how to pump his legs on the swing. I have tried, Lar has tried, Mom has tried. This past week, since Lar has been home with Alex in the morning, he's spent a lot of time coaching: "Forward straight, back bent..." with Alex not quite getting it. Yesterday morning, Katherine decided to take a turn. She gave Alex a push and started instructing: "Legs forward, legs back," and suddenly he was pushing and pumping and gaining altitude. He finally got it...thanks at last to Katherine.

Another day, another face.

 

Doctor Says...

Pneumonia. Well, that explains it.

We asked the doctor to write me a special prescription: a letter to Katherine that says "No questions until Mommy is better."

Things I can still do continued

I can help Katherine write a list of oon words. Apparently I'm not very good at signing "moon" or "bird" (to explain loon), but I got them both laughing pretty hard when I acted out "swoon." Based on my demonstration, Katherine decided "swoon" means to fall asleep, which is pretty close.

The hardest part about my illness for Katherine is I can't answer all her questions. Seems like she has a new one every other minute, and I still can't talk enough to explain things. So I've told her she can't ask me questions for 3 days, and every time she asks something I can't tackle I hold up a 3. (It was 4 yesterday, and 5 the day before.) She's getting pretty tired of it. I guess I'm committed to questions again by day 0--I really hope I can talk by then!

Overheard

A: That's not kid soap, that's baby soap.
K: But babies are kids. Everybody's kids.
A: Mommy and Daddy aren't.
K: But they're children of God!
A: But they have big fingers!
(Pause.)
K: Then they're grownups of God.


Caitlin, a 4 year old visitor several days ago: "Let's pretend we live in a real castle, not a pretend castle."

Today

Things I can still do

Play patient: Katherine inspects me with binoculars, Alex uses a magnifying glass (sometimes with a red plastic cup in front which one would think might impair his vision). I can stick out my tongue and eat/drink their medicine, which I must say is just as effective as the other stuff.

Feed my kids: today's lunch was a plate of corn chips, apple chips, crackers, craisins, two whole apples, a handful of almonds, and a chocolate muffin. Sure I could have got a peanut butter sandwich, but where's the fun in that?

Feed my baby: same menu as usual

Feed myself: OK, making enchiladas were overly ambitious, but I did manage to cook some mushroom soup today in installments. Never mind that it has no flavor. One sad truth that has been reaffirmed this week: leftovers do run out eventually. Canned soup is starting to sound appealing.

Playground monitor: Lie on my lawn chair holding the baby listening to my children's voices to make sure they have not 1) injured themselves 2) escaped

Blog

Food for thought

A list of issues my feverish brain decided were important to concentrate on this week (especially at 4 in the morning)

--the other place I should have sent a published article 10 years ago
--what treat to take to Katherine's class on her birthday (in March)
--a letter to the elementary school principal about incorrect school supply lists
--a scheme for getting the Medieval Studies students in York to contribute to the Minster's Great East Window
--an alternate way to have resolved my parents' long-past hardwood floor problems
--a labeling scheme for unradiated almonds
--listing issues that my feverish brain is concentrating on

Didn't actually solve anything important, like where to put the baby's bedroom or how to potty train Alex. Maybe if I'm still sick next week.

Sick--still!

So I'm still sick--this flu or whatever has totally wiped me out. I've just been sitting around all day watching the kids. And feeding them. And changing them. And answering questions. (Workers get sick leave--why not moms?)

A friend called in the evening, and when I said I was sick, she asked if I needed anything. No, I assured her. I'm fine. You sure? How about some soup? No thanks. Well, should I come watch the kids? I finally said yes.

And a good thing too. By the time she arrived I was too tired to move. She got the kids dinner (her first time making a peanut butter sandwich), pushed Alex on the swing, and amazed the kids by bumping the ball volleyball style--Alex couldn't stop laughing. She stayed over two hours. Thank heaven for loving, insistent friends.

Food update

Alex has changed his mind about pit horns. Last night at dinner, Lar served some peach slices and had some specially reserved for Alex. "Who doesn't like pit horns?" he asked.

"I love pit horns!" Alex said. "Nobody doesn't like pit horns. It's all about the pit horns."

Hope future food dislikes will disappear so fast!

Languishing

I feel yucky
Oh so yucky
I feel yucky, unlucky, and sick
I'm congested, coughing and feverish
For I have caught the ick!

I'm unsteady,
Hot and sweaty,
And I'm ready to try any cure
But I'm still as sick as I ever was
Even after Grandpa's herbs.

On Growing Old

I can't figure out anybody's ages any more. I've never been good at it, and I'm getting worse. Here's the problem: I don't realize I've aged.

We met a nanny at the park the other day. She had light blond hair, the kids had light blond hair. She's astounded that everybody thinks she's their mom: "I'm not THAT old!" She must have been in her early twenties, having just graduated from college. Well, she didn't look much younger than me because I'm not that much older than her--am I?

True, I've entered my thirties. I've been married ten years. I have a daughter who's starting kindergarten. I also am joint owner of a house (me, Lar, and the bank), two cars, a 401k, and other adult trappings. I don't text message. But that doesn't make me old. Or even middle-aged.

To me, my parents are in their forties, and other grandparents don't look old enough to be grandparents. Young parents (like me) are in their twenties. Parents of teenagers are way, way older than me. My grandparents are the same age as always, and it's a little astonishing to me that my children's grandparents have brown hair, not white like Grandma Bassett's.

As for me, I'm just out of college. And I always will be.

On Growing Big

Alex can't wait to grow up. He wants to have big thumbs and big feet, wear big shoes, and dig with big shovels. His latest career goal: ice cream maker.

Katherine's latest career goal: teach preschool with Grandma/draw pictures for kids who can't draw very well.

Rebecca: she's started rolling around the carpet, so presumably her next goal is mobility. Or maybe, since she just started grabbing her feet, it's eating her toes.

Food foibles

For the last three days Alex has left his breakfast peach on the plate. Why? Because he's decided he doesn't like "pit horns," the tiny hooks that stick out of peach flesh when you remove the pit. Today I invited him to cut them out with a butter knife. Successful pit horn removal ensued; he cleaned his plate except for four tiny, hairy peach slices.

Gourmet food? My kids will eat about anything. But given the option of a roast beef or pastrami sandwich, chicken tikka masala, gazpacho, blueberry or apricot jam...they inevitably prefer peanut butter and honey. I used to feel like a bad parent for serving it; now I feel like I'm giving them a special treat. Especially when there's raisins in the middle. Now that's gourmet.

School supplies

The list on the website:

(1) box of Kleenex
(1) box (8 count) of #2 pencils
(1) box of Mr. Sketch color markers
(12) glue sticks
Fiskar scissors
(1) box of Crayons
(2) boxes of baby wipes

The list we were given at registration:
24 glue sticks (Scotch Permanent preferred)
2 boxes Kleenex
1 box markers
1 box crayons
2 reams copy paper

Last year's supply list:
24 glue sticks (Scotch Permanent preferred)
2 reams Xerox copy paper 20#
1 box Kleenex tissues
Baby wipes

What the teacher says:
"What's on this list? I didn't make the list. I haven't even seen one."
"Markers? I have plenty of markers. Don't bring markers."
"Crayons? Sure, crayons are good. Bring a box of 24 and we'll pool them."
"Glue sticks? Well, we sure go through glue sticks. Scotch Permanent, what's that? What they really like are the purple ones."
"Copy paper? Well, yes. They use it at the office."
"Kleenex? Why? We just get a box from the office."
"Scissors? No! I have tons of scissors. Don't bring scissors."
"And crackers for snack time. Everybody brings a box."


What we brought:
24 glue sticks (8 Scotch permanent)
1 box of 24 crayons
1 ream paper
1 box Wheat Thins

Leaving
2 boxes pencils
1 box 64 crayons
1 pack of 16 Crayola markers
1 pair Fiskar scissors with a fancy cap
2 pink boxes Kleenex (Katherine chose)
Guess we get to put some new things in the earning bag.

Eggplant Parmesan Recipe

This is how you make eggplant Parmesan:

Search for store-bought breadcrumbs, realize you used them up. Tear up last week's hamburger buns and throw in oven.

Teach Katherine an impromptu piano lesson.

Slice eggplant. Salt and place in colander to drain.

Reengineer the angle on a Brio railroad track. Install train bridge.

Change baby. Feed baby.

Supervise cleaning kitchen. This consists of asking Katherine to put away her papers, and asking again, and again, and again...

Give baby to husband.

Clean up husband's wheat-grinding mess to create workspace.

Ask husband to grate Parmesan. (Turns out the rotary grater is quite a kiddie attraction.)

Food-process bread crumbs, ending up with sand-sized grains on bottom and huge chunks on top. Turn job over to husband.

Measure pepper. Debate merits of serving plain spaghetti.

Dress Katherine in jacket and Alex's baseball cap to pick garden lettuce in the rain.

Open door for Katherine, her four soggy lettuce leaves, and her complaint that it's raining. Run out to pick lettuce. Kids follow Dad out to pick beans and peas.

Recruit Katherine to shake eggplant slices in flour in a bag. Dip in egg, roll in bread crumb/Parmesan mixture, place on rack.

Read recipe. Realize you were supposed to heat pans in oven. Heat pans.

Put baby in swing.

Retrieve screaming baby from swing. Give baby to husband.

Switch on food processor with egg-free hand to process tomatoes, while husband holds processor with one hand and baby with other. Crank can opener while he holds can.

Oil hot pans, place eggplant on pans and put in oven. Sigh with relief at near-completion.

Put baby on floor under toy.

Rescue baby from toy, because she has rolled her face into the side of it.

Repeat.

Give baby to husband.

Clean table.

Place eggplant in pan with husband's tomato sauce. Discard shredded mozzarella, which smells funny after being forgotten in an unrefrigerated cooler for a week. Sprinkle instead with Italian mix, which magically appeared in fridge after departure of relatives. Realize you still have to bake the stuff, adding another half hour.

Entertain starving dinner guests.

Clean husband's bread dishes off table. Set.

Decide to eat green beans raw.

Cook and drain Pike Place pasta, serve.

Total time elapsed: 4 hours.

Portrait Photography by K

I was taking some photos and K wanted to use the camera, too. The SLR (Rebel XT) is still a little hard for her to hold.

Swinging R

Produce

How to eat a pea:
Yesterday in the garden Alex and Katherine started picking and eating sweet peas. Alex got one, plucked the seeds out, and dumped the pod on the ground. Unable to stand such waste of our hard labor, I offered to share with him, and started handing him seeds. But he didn't want them. Next he took a pea, took out the seeds, dumped them on the ground, and ate the shell. He ate his next pea like a corncob, nibbling off the shell to expose the seeds in the middle. I put a stop to his pea-picking.

We got an enormous bag of produce from our CSA today. I will have to cook something with eggplant for the first time in my life, and we got the most enormous onion I have ever seen. It weighed a whole pound and a half by itself. More squash and cucumbers, good thing I've learned how to make zucchini bread.

Also bought flowers at the farmer's market today. Katherine spent the next half hour (seems like) wondering why I don't buy flowers more often, wondering why she's never seen the vase (because I don't have flowers), wondering why I don't pick flowers from the yard (never get around to it).

Climbing the walls

Katherine has started climbing the walls--literally. She scoots up the doorframe, arms and legs splayed, toes curled around the molding. The top of the fridge is no longer safe, although if she tries to grab anything I fear she may come crashing down. Alex runs underneath, because she tells him to go through the tunnel, and I bite my lip and hope she doesn't fall and break his neck. Rebecca has started grabbing her feet, rolling to one side (she gets pretty astonished when she flips over), and batting at toys held over her head, which is all pretty athletic for a 4 month old. I have restrained myself from climbing the walls. So we're all good.

We donated a box of lettuce to the food bank today--a humble offering so organic that an earwig dropped onto the desk when I handed it over. Hope someone appreciates it, or thinks it's worth the astonishing $30 at which the secretary valued my contribution.

Also walked to the polling place today to vote in the primary--doing my civic duty even if I have no clue who I like. Mostly I voted for incumbents I recognized from radio interviews, but I did my duty. Everybody warns that voting in the primary is even more important now that we've gone to this crazy top two system, but I didn't see many other citizens out. We had the room to ourselves and a whole host of election workers, one of whom couldn't wait to get her hands on the baby while I voted. "It's impossible not to kiss a baby you're holding," she tells a fellow retiree as she covers Becca's head with kisses, and was disappointed that I finished so fast. (I skipped the potential judges.) Katherine rubbed a raw spot on her foot on the way back. Note to self: Crocs need socks.

Today was my day for trying things. We are still receiving produce from a CSA, and have all sorts of remnants in the fridge even though I cleaned out the wilted dill and slimy cucumbers yesterday. So I made vinegar cucumber slices with fennel (starting from Alice Waters' vegetable book but without the shallots), and zucchini bread to inaugurate the rubber bear mold our dear friend from Germany gave us several years ago. Rebecca got tired of the swing, the saucer, and the floor, so I bundled her to my chest in the Moby swing, and had to toast nuts and chop vegetables at arms length. The zucchini bread was pretty good--too bad the kids lost their chance to taste it when they refused to finish cleaning their room. Meanwhile, the kids got to decorate My Little Ponies with glitter glue and paint pens that Lar brought home from work only 6 months ago. (Katherine saw them on top of the fridge.) I admired both of them, eluding Katherine's demands to confirm that hers was prettier.

Was working on my article as well. Katherine asked me at one point when I'm going to retire. I looked around my house and said "Retire? How?"

In honor of Alexander...

...Who named his birthday cake the Chocolate Moose Goose Kemperoos cake.

Big Brother

Meet Rebecca

Meet Rebecca.