Lola is onto me!!!! I bought Chips Ahoy, Reduced Fat. She and Gibby were munching on their before bed snack. "Mom, these aren't the cookies we've had before." She extended the cookie out before her eyes and gave it a mistrustful once-over. "What do you mean? They're the ones you wanted me to buy." "No, there's something funny with them."
When they are babies, it's easy to make sure they eat veggies and fruits. I find the older they get, they develop color aversion to certain foods. Green to Lola means NO GO!!! I made her spinach ravioli the other night and she noticed suspicious green specks of vitamin goodness. Once in a while she will eat corn on the cob. As a toddler, she loved grape tomatoes and avocados. I'm overjoyed she at least eats apples and blueberries!
Out of desperation and fear of rickets and scurvy, I made fruit smoothies and added two containers of pureed carrots. "Mom, why does it look orange?" I said "Oh honey, that's the color of the fruit." I served it to them both in fancy brandy snifters with straws. They loved them, for about three seconds and then abandoned them. Newman the mutt gave an appreciative wag after licking them both clean.
Last year, maybe several years ago? there were two popular cookbooks giving tips on providing veggie laden meals and snacks by hiding said unpopular food groups into everyday dinners. I'm torn, do you surprise attack and become the "sneaky chef" or do you teach them veggies are good for you, join a farm share, let them help you pick fruits and veggies still warm from the sun.
It continues to be an ongoing battle when Lola wants cookies or chocolate for breakfast. She knows she will get "the look" from me and be handed a yogurt drink and an organic blueberry breakfast bar. I'm not a complete food Nazi. Once in a while if she's running late, I send her out the door with Sean: a cookie in one hand and her toothbrush in the other.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Birdie Blues
Almost every spring, a robin attempts to play house atop the pillar of our front porch. Some robins begin the nest process only to leave under cover of night, their nests half built, a gaping hole with grass and twigs blowing in the warm breeze. It must be the activity of the house that makes them so unsure. I wonder about the birds that build under noisy train tunnels or choose sun scorched street light posts in busy downtown cross sections. They seem to stick it out, or tuck it under, or whatever they do in that nest?
I watched a tentative expectant birdie begin the building. She would fly to our porch with beaks full of grassy brick and mortar. Last week she added some tissues we had left on our side porch. Sean wanted the nest down last week. He's freaked out by birds in general and the poop is unsanitary and gross. I asked him to leave it alone, hoping eggs had been laid. I wanted the kids to see the nest and eventually babies learning to fly for the first time.
A few days ago while Mama Bird was away, I grabbed a step stool and my camera. I hovered the camera above the nest and captured some gorgeous pics of three perfect, bluest of robin egg blue creations. Nature is an amazing study.
I remember several years ago I miscarried our first pregnancy. I was five months along and we had named the baby and received Christmas gifts from family while visiting in Pennsylvania. We lost the baby that New Years Day. That spring, I watched a bird build her nest. Sean knocked it down with a broom and disposed of it in the woods. I watched that bird come back to her roost and take in the horror of no hope, no home, no babies. I knew how she felt; raw, drained, ripped empty, confused. I sat in the hallway and cried for almost two hours.
I showed Sean the photos of the eggs and it triggered that memory. You never forget, you sometimes talk to your spouse about it, even after seven years, and two beautiful children later. Most days I feel slightly like those eggs, soon ready to hatch. I am resilient: yet feel a scuff, a peck, a small crack kept under control.
I watched a tentative expectant birdie begin the building. She would fly to our porch with beaks full of grassy brick and mortar. Last week she added some tissues we had left on our side porch. Sean wanted the nest down last week. He's freaked out by birds in general and the poop is unsanitary and gross. I asked him to leave it alone, hoping eggs had been laid. I wanted the kids to see the nest and eventually babies learning to fly for the first time.
A few days ago while Mama Bird was away, I grabbed a step stool and my camera. I hovered the camera above the nest and captured some gorgeous pics of three perfect, bluest of robin egg blue creations. Nature is an amazing study.
I remember several years ago I miscarried our first pregnancy. I was five months along and we had named the baby and received Christmas gifts from family while visiting in Pennsylvania. We lost the baby that New Years Day. That spring, I watched a bird build her nest. Sean knocked it down with a broom and disposed of it in the woods. I watched that bird come back to her roost and take in the horror of no hope, no home, no babies. I knew how she felt; raw, drained, ripped empty, confused. I sat in the hallway and cried for almost two hours.
I showed Sean the photos of the eggs and it triggered that memory. You never forget, you sometimes talk to your spouse about it, even after seven years, and two beautiful children later. Most days I feel slightly like those eggs, soon ready to hatch. I am resilient: yet feel a scuff, a peck, a small crack kept under control.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Boom Boom, Out Go The Lights!
Power outages are a bitch! Some sort of mini tornado swept through Madison Circle (as well as Franklin County and beyond) and played twister with trees and power lines. Walking the neighborhood the next day was a bit eerie with plucked out trees and intricate, one hundred year old root systems pulled from the earth like baby carrots.
Live wires were everywhere and people surveying the damage. I wandered around in my pajamas, coffee less and wondering if preschool was axed for the week. Other folks crept out of their homes looking up at the sky and then the front lawn carnage below. My newly planted perennials held their ground well.
I thought of New Orleans and other areas hit by disaster and thanked God it was nothing like those events. Crews began to arrive on the scene with trucks, blocking access to our circle and firefighters were stationed at all entrance points. Every now and again, one of them would knock on my door to use my bathroom, clomping up the stairs in their heavy, yellow gear. My neighbor had to show up for work, so I babysat her son. Other kids seemed to hone in on my house for a play date. The afternoon was filled with kids, snacks, and water play in the yard.
Sean was home early with flashlights, lanterns and dry ice. Lola was distraught, no cartoons and no computer. I would flick the light switch on in the pantry only to be reminded we had no power. By day three we were all pissy! I could not suffer through another night of whining kids wanting cartoons, warm wine, and Scrabble by lantern.
3 AM, Sean wakes me...."Everyone's lights are on except ours!" I was dreading cleaning out the fridge and throwing away groceries bought the day before the storm. Sure enough, the next morning, everyone was basking in electrified, glorious, artificial light. All were having freshly brewed coffee, reading their papers, sending e mails, making phone calls to other happy full wattage friends. We were still acoustic.
We needed to call an electrician and fast! Memorial Day Weekend was looming and our hopes were fading. Sean made at least 15 calls from the yellow pages. (Amazing, the phone book: we never use the phonebook, we just Google the number!!) A half hour went by, then the cell rang. An electrician was on his way!!! It seems the storm blew, completely fried our breaker panel. We were fully restored within 20 minutes! I hate to see what our bill will be, these guys charge extra for weekends, and holiday. We brewed a lovely, hot pot of coffee, had steaming hot showers and turned on the TV for the kids. Lola was so happy she kissed SpongeBob, leaving lip prints on the screen.
Live wires were everywhere and people surveying the damage. I wandered around in my pajamas, coffee less and wondering if preschool was axed for the week. Other folks crept out of their homes looking up at the sky and then the front lawn carnage below. My newly planted perennials held their ground well.
I thought of New Orleans and other areas hit by disaster and thanked God it was nothing like those events. Crews began to arrive on the scene with trucks, blocking access to our circle and firefighters were stationed at all entrance points. Every now and again, one of them would knock on my door to use my bathroom, clomping up the stairs in their heavy, yellow gear. My neighbor had to show up for work, so I babysat her son. Other kids seemed to hone in on my house for a play date. The afternoon was filled with kids, snacks, and water play in the yard.
Sean was home early with flashlights, lanterns and dry ice. Lola was distraught, no cartoons and no computer. I would flick the light switch on in the pantry only to be reminded we had no power. By day three we were all pissy! I could not suffer through another night of whining kids wanting cartoons, warm wine, and Scrabble by lantern.
3 AM, Sean wakes me...."Everyone's lights are on except ours!" I was dreading cleaning out the fridge and throwing away groceries bought the day before the storm. Sure enough, the next morning, everyone was basking in electrified, glorious, artificial light. All were having freshly brewed coffee, reading their papers, sending e mails, making phone calls to other happy full wattage friends. We were still acoustic.
We needed to call an electrician and fast! Memorial Day Weekend was looming and our hopes were fading. Sean made at least 15 calls from the yellow pages. (Amazing, the phone book: we never use the phonebook, we just Google the number!!) A half hour went by, then the cell rang. An electrician was on his way!!! It seems the storm blew, completely fried our breaker panel. We were fully restored within 20 minutes! I hate to see what our bill will be, these guys charge extra for weekends, and holiday. We brewed a lovely, hot pot of coffee, had steaming hot showers and turned on the TV for the kids. Lola was so happy she kissed SpongeBob, leaving lip prints on the screen.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!
Hey, I just realized yesterday was my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY as a blogger!!!!!!!
Soccer Stinks!
I have a mean hankerin for bacon this morning! Opened up a packet of Oscar Myer Center Cut and it's in the oven as I write. Is there nothing better than a well behaved toddler happily playing, bacon smells wafting through the house, sun shining in through the windows, a luke warm cup o' joe at my side: I expect to hear the screen door slam and the sound of children jumping through lawn sprinklers. I should have never quit my gig at Hallmark Cards!
Lola wanted to try soccer camp this summer. I was going to sign her up then thought she may not like it. A YMCA employee suggested we try it and then pay the $35 or $40 fee. Wise suggestion on her part! Last Tuesday I picked Lo up from pre school and we headed to the college field. We were a bit early and we watched nets being set up and soccer balls being unloaded from the back of a small van. I brought Gibson's plastic lawn mower and some cookies to keep all occupied. It was a chilly, damp late afternoon and I hadn't thought to bring a blanket or lawn chairs.
Parents soon starting arriving with kids in tow, the kids wearing Y Soccer t shirts and shin guards. We had already missed last Tuesday's first introduction class where they apparently handed out the required goods. Two of Lola's classmates showed up and she was so excited. I said hello to parents and kids settled into groups. One of Lo's friends Mom is a soccer coach so she took Lola with her to form their team.
Lola seemed to be having a blast, running around with her friends. Gibby and I moved closer to the end of the field where her group was, watching them pass the ball with their feet. In the middle of one of the drills, she grew bored and wanted to play with her friend Cameron. I told her Cameron was on another team and practicing like she was doing. She began to get cranky and wanted to roll down the hill. "I don't like soccer, it's boring! I want my friends to be on my team! I don't like that woman telling me what to do!"
I will admit I was really disappointed. Not in Lola so much, but because I thought this might be something good for her, a challenge, something physical, something she could learn and have fun with. She tends to shy away from things if she feels she can't do them. I was hoping this would be a sort of confidence builder. With her recent diagnosis of sensory integration "stuff" I was hoping this would benefit her.
We walked away from her team and up the hill. She was crying. "I want to play soccer but I don't like that woman telling me what to do!" I told Lola this is what is expected. "You have to learn to play soccer and she's the coach, so you have to pay attention and listen to her to know the rules of the game." Such is life, and I worry Lola may have difficulty listening to authority and following rules. Am I worrying needlessly? She's only five. She cried in the car for a while and Gibby was upset because Lola was upset. I didn't say much on the way home, just thinking about the events.
We got home and she wanted to color, have a bath and dinner. "Are you upset Mom?" "No honey, I guess I just wanted you to have fun and at least stick out today's practice until the end. Hey, at least you got this cool t shirt, and at least you tried soccer, I'm proud of you for trying something new!" I gave her a hug and she couldn't wait to show Sean her t shirt and tell him about the "soccer day."
Lola wanted to try soccer camp this summer. I was going to sign her up then thought she may not like it. A YMCA employee suggested we try it and then pay the $35 or $40 fee. Wise suggestion on her part! Last Tuesday I picked Lo up from pre school and we headed to the college field. We were a bit early and we watched nets being set up and soccer balls being unloaded from the back of a small van. I brought Gibson's plastic lawn mower and some cookies to keep all occupied. It was a chilly, damp late afternoon and I hadn't thought to bring a blanket or lawn chairs.
Parents soon starting arriving with kids in tow, the kids wearing Y Soccer t shirts and shin guards. We had already missed last Tuesday's first introduction class where they apparently handed out the required goods. Two of Lola's classmates showed up and she was so excited. I said hello to parents and kids settled into groups. One of Lo's friends Mom is a soccer coach so she took Lola with her to form their team.
Lola seemed to be having a blast, running around with her friends. Gibby and I moved closer to the end of the field where her group was, watching them pass the ball with their feet. In the middle of one of the drills, she grew bored and wanted to play with her friend Cameron. I told her Cameron was on another team and practicing like she was doing. She began to get cranky and wanted to roll down the hill. "I don't like soccer, it's boring! I want my friends to be on my team! I don't like that woman telling me what to do!"
I will admit I was really disappointed. Not in Lola so much, but because I thought this might be something good for her, a challenge, something physical, something she could learn and have fun with. She tends to shy away from things if she feels she can't do them. I was hoping this would be a sort of confidence builder. With her recent diagnosis of sensory integration "stuff" I was hoping this would benefit her.
We walked away from her team and up the hill. She was crying. "I want to play soccer but I don't like that woman telling me what to do!" I told Lola this is what is expected. "You have to learn to play soccer and she's the coach, so you have to pay attention and listen to her to know the rules of the game." Such is life, and I worry Lola may have difficulty listening to authority and following rules. Am I worrying needlessly? She's only five. She cried in the car for a while and Gibby was upset because Lola was upset. I didn't say much on the way home, just thinking about the events.
We got home and she wanted to color, have a bath and dinner. "Are you upset Mom?" "No honey, I guess I just wanted you to have fun and at least stick out today's practice until the end. Hey, at least you got this cool t shirt, and at least you tried soccer, I'm proud of you for trying something new!" I gave her a hug and she couldn't wait to show Sean her t shirt and tell him about the "soccer day."
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Ah....Love
I took a call from a friend of mine this morning. She crabbed and bitched for a while about nothing in particular. In my best British accent I asked her "Who pooped in your flower bed this morning dearie?" She paused and asked if this has ever happened to me.
She began her tale. She had just put her 10 month old son down for bed for the night. She and her husband had dinner and several glasses of wine. He cleaned the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, while she took a bath and changed into her pjs. He came up to floss his teeth before checking his emails. "How bout a quickie before you retire for the evening?" she said standing stark naked in the bathroom doorway, trying to hold in her baby paunch and look sexy in the harsh hallway light. "No way, I just had a couple glasses of wine and two helpings-I don't think I have it in me!"
As nonchalantly as could be: when you're naked and needy, she said "Rain check tomorrow?" She sulked off to bed with a book and could hear him downstairs watching HGTV probably caressing a bowl of Chunky Monkey or Cherry Garcia.
Marriage can be hard, taxing, frustrating. Intimacy: same deal! My husband's Aunt told me she has (*WARNING* ADULT CONTENT TO FOLLOW AFTER NEXT PUNCTUATION MARK!) "fuck you" sex with her husband. When they're mad at each other and accidentally bump into each other in the hallway she says "Fuck you!" He replies in kind. Cigarette anyone? Maybe it's more amusing when she tells it?
She began her tale. She had just put her 10 month old son down for bed for the night. She and her husband had dinner and several glasses of wine. He cleaned the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, while she took a bath and changed into her pjs. He came up to floss his teeth before checking his emails. "How bout a quickie before you retire for the evening?" she said standing stark naked in the bathroom doorway, trying to hold in her baby paunch and look sexy in the harsh hallway light. "No way, I just had a couple glasses of wine and two helpings-I don't think I have it in me!"
As nonchalantly as could be: when you're naked and needy, she said "Rain check tomorrow?" She sulked off to bed with a book and could hear him downstairs watching HGTV probably caressing a bowl of Chunky Monkey or Cherry Garcia.
Marriage can be hard, taxing, frustrating. Intimacy: same deal! My husband's Aunt told me she has (*WARNING* ADULT CONTENT TO FOLLOW AFTER NEXT PUNCTUATION MARK!) "fuck you" sex with her husband. When they're mad at each other and accidentally bump into each other in the hallway she says "Fuck you!" He replies in kind. Cigarette anyone? Maybe it's more amusing when she tells it?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
What Can I Be?
I have baskets and baskets of laundry to do and I should scrub my tub and bathroom floor. Instead, I think I'll blog to you and then have some iced coffee on my side porch while Gibby is still napping.
I've been trying to stick to a consistent bedtime for Lola. Sean is usually home from work between 7 and 7:30. Some nights, 8:30. On those nights, Gibson is in bed and we squeeze in some time together over wine talking about our days (Sean and I, not Lola...you know...the wine...) Once Lo is in bed Sean and I have dinner around 9, leaving us, as a couple little time to communicate.
So, up to bed go we. Lola spied a book on the table "Twenty-Odd Ducks" Why, Every Punctuation Mark Counts! Great colorful illustrations and tongue in cheek education about duh...punctuation! I was hoping for more insight into colons and semi colons. Anyway, I read her the book. She didn't understand why every two pages had the same sentence but different pictures. (The magical use of punctuation and how it carries a meaning!)
We finished the book and I rubbed her back for a few minutes. "OK, mom has gotta go spend time now with Daddy and have dinner." Several whimpers and small kicks to the bed, "You know what I hate about being 5? When I grow up no one will lay with me at night!" Very sweet, if tragic, insight about growing up for Lola. It's such a push-pull age for her. She wants all control and says she wants to be the boss, yet she realizes she'll lose something by growing up.
"You know you will always be my baby, even when you are an old lady." I soothed her hair away from her eyes, so big and blue. "What can I be when I grow up?" She's told me she wants to be an illustrator, an architect, teacher or rock star. "Eliase has two mommies, I could be a mommy just like you!" I told her that sounded like a great idea. She told me she could help take care of Gibby. She was silent for a while and I thought she had fallen asleep. She turned over and said "But what if Gibby grows up too?
That's my worry, they are growing up too fast and I barely have the time to catch the memories.
I've been trying to stick to a consistent bedtime for Lola. Sean is usually home from work between 7 and 7:30. Some nights, 8:30. On those nights, Gibson is in bed and we squeeze in some time together over wine talking about our days (Sean and I, not Lola...you know...the wine...) Once Lo is in bed Sean and I have dinner around 9, leaving us, as a couple little time to communicate.
So, up to bed go we. Lola spied a book on the table "Twenty-Odd Ducks" Why, Every Punctuation Mark Counts! Great colorful illustrations and tongue in cheek education about duh...punctuation! I was hoping for more insight into colons and semi colons. Anyway, I read her the book. She didn't understand why every two pages had the same sentence but different pictures. (The magical use of punctuation and how it carries a meaning!)
We finished the book and I rubbed her back for a few minutes. "OK, mom has gotta go spend time now with Daddy and have dinner." Several whimpers and small kicks to the bed, "You know what I hate about being 5? When I grow up no one will lay with me at night!" Very sweet, if tragic, insight about growing up for Lola. It's such a push-pull age for her. She wants all control and says she wants to be the boss, yet she realizes she'll lose something by growing up.
"You know you will always be my baby, even when you are an old lady." I soothed her hair away from her eyes, so big and blue. "What can I be when I grow up?" She's told me she wants to be an illustrator, an architect, teacher or rock star. "Eliase has two mommies, I could be a mommy just like you!" I told her that sounded like a great idea. She told me she could help take care of Gibby. She was silent for a while and I thought she had fallen asleep. She turned over and said "But what if Gibby grows up too?
That's my worry, they are growing up too fast and I barely have the time to catch the memories.
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