Giant love

Claire likes to find creative ways to tell me how much she loves me, which of course, I love.

Yesterday, she said she loves me as much as a billion giants standing on top of each other. I was thrilled with that much love. Then she said, with great drama, "And the giants are standing on the stool from Daddy's bathroom!"

So not only am I loved a billion giants high, I am loved a billion giants and approximately 12 inches high.

Take that.

The Shape of Things

Claire went to a friend's house to play today. Before she went, she asked me whether her friend's dad was going to be there. (Gulp, thinking the worst.) I told her I didn't know whether he would be home or not. (What did he do? My poor baby.) She said she really hoped not. (Oh please, no, this can't be happening. I will kill that badwording badword if he put a hand on her. NO!) I managed to croak out a why, and dreaded her response. (pleasenopleasenoIwillkillhimpleaseno)

Her answer: I don't like the shape of his hair.

Come to think of it, I don't really like the shape of his hair either. But not enough to kill over.

Baking Shane's B-Day Cake

We had fun making the cake, but I forgot to add baking soda so together, the 2-layers were about an inch high. It still got eaten.

My Kid in a Box

Back to School Night

At Back to School Night, after the teacher gave her short talk about the upcoming year, she asked if any of the kids had questions. Claire's hand shot up and Miss Ann called on her. "Yes, Claire, do you have a question?" "My Daddy has a birthday present!" Great. Next kid with a question, "I like Indiana Jones!" That put an fairly quick end to the questions portion of the evening.

I don't think I could be a teacher of 4 year-olds without losing my mind (to say nothing of my patience) within seconds.

You're in the army now

We gave Gavin a buzz with the #1 guard on the clippers. He saw his Babu getting a haircut and said (actions, not words...still struggling with words) that he wanted one too. Claire said he was so handsome with his new 'do that she had to collapse in the grass.

Back

We've been back for a week and a half now and the thought of trying to post all about the trip is totally overwhelming.

But, on a totally different subject, why do some people, when considering the (gasp!) poor as a group in this country, generalize that it's comprised of a bunch of lazy people who don't want to work and just want everyone else to pick up their tab? While others generalize that the less fortunate want to support themselves and their families and contribute in a meaningful way but can't get ahead because the jobs they do (that need to be done) don't provide a living wage?

How are these opinions shaped?

I have several examples of opposing viewpoints within families, so it can't all be how you're raised. I know people on the wealthy end of the spectrum that assume the latter, while people on the other end of the spectrum assume the former, so it can't all be based on socio-economic standing.

Stats seem to be able to back up whatever viewpoint favors the argument, so it is not all based on numbers.

This is not a political post, but rather sociological. What makes someone a hand-up believer vs. a hand-out believer?

How is social conscience formed?

So this comes to mind because of some of the posts I see on FB, to say nothing of what is in the news. I guess people who are somewhere in the middle and realize there is some of both tend to be less vocal? Moderation is a bit boring, after all.

Yes. My deep thoughts come from Facebook posts. And Jack Handy. (Nod to Jori's latest post.)

I know I have only a handful of readers, but any enlightenment in the comments section would be, well, enlightening.

Never Cry Wolf (unless you are on the 3G network)

So we are at Uncle Mo and Auntie Farrah's house, enjoying their new pool. Just after dinner and before the planned night swim, Claire gets a little bit whiny and starts talking about her tummy ache. And then she doesn't have one. And then she does. And I can't tell whether she doesn't have one and wants the attention because she is tired. Or she does have one and wants to go swimming.

(She has talked up the tummy ache angle before, when she wants to watch TV or when I am paying an inordinate amount of attention to the other kid, so this isn't new, and although I don't like my feelings of distrust, I simply don't always believe her. Especially when she is miraculously cured at the slightest suggestion of something fun to see/eat/do. )

Anyway, when she swims, she jumps and flips around so much she gets air in her tummy. Several times she has thrown up a little instead of burped, so I figure this time it really does hurt. Even so, as I am putting Gavin to bed, I tell her the story of the boy who cried wolf, and how the last time he calls, the villagers don't come because they don't believe the boy. (I leave out any mention of him getting eaten by the wolf. Is that how the story ends?) She asked me to tell her the story again because it was so funny. At which point I wonder if my message is getting through. At the end of the second go around, she says "Maybe he could just call on the cell phone and tell the villagers that there really is a wolf this time!"

She decided not to go night swimming, which everyone knows is the best swimming of all, so she really does have a tummy ache this time. Probably a huge air bubble working its way through after 47 cannon balls, 32 dives and 28 belly-floppish things.

Channel G

Helping to bake yogurt-strawberry muffins.


Pardon the singing. Camera awareness on video 2.

It's all relative.

b

So after Auntie Sarah's visit not too long ago, Claire started referring to herself as Auntie Sister, because Auntie's are so much fun. I think it s funny and cute (which it totally is) and a nice tribute to my amazing big sister. We had so much fun while she was here and it makes me wish we lived much, much closer. Fortunately, we are spending a lot of time together this summer and she'll be back here for ACL, so maybe we'll get sick of each other, although somehow I doubt it.

When Shane heard Claire tell Gavin to call her Auntie Sister, he asked her if she thought we were from [insert name of your favorite inbred hillbilly state]. (Oh your favorite is Texas? No, no silly. We are rednecks, not hillbillies.)

In case you've ever wondered why they make brown playdough

Grown Up Concepts

We were at Sam's the other day and Claire, as usual, was ogling the trampoline. I told her that it was very expensive and we don't have enough money to buy it right now. She took it pretty well and we went on our way. At the check out line, she said, "Mama, maybe we can buy some more money so we can have that trampoline." I thought she was amusingly unclear on the concept until Shane pointed out that that is what Wall Street does, so perhaps she is just savvier than I am.

Today we were playing with the doctor kit. I was the Dr, Gavin my assistant and Claire the patient. When I asked her what the problem was, she said she had a "strange insurance" in her leg and her heart and her arm. Worrying about insurance already, poor girl. This probably stemmed from my ranting yesterday because of some FIFTY! dollar eye drops. I went to pick them up, not knowing they were barely covered and made a scene at the pharmacy, asking the guy to check again and how could it be so much, I have insurance!? and calling my insurance company and getting VERY ANNOYED at the kind and smiling voice of the automated system lady telling me how sorry she was, but she couldn't understand me and would I please repeat the spelling of the medication again for the 23rd time. (BTW, unlike foreigners, she doesn't seem understand you better if you just talk louder.) Grr. I essentially stormed off, without the medicine, of course. I hate that so many people are uninsured, this state being one of the worst, but when I find out that the cost of the medication is $64 and I have to pay $50, after the $500+/month we pay for insurance, I couldn't help but feel a bit cheated. I guess $14 is $14. And then I think of the people on flight 447 and their friends and relatives and of all the other thousands of people who had to deal with some real shit today and I think that I would do best to STFU and feel damn lucky that I have it so good.

(And then I think, holy crap, is that a whisker on my chin?!)

After talking to my Dr, I had to slink back to the pharmacy and buy the stupid eye drops. I was hoping that the same guy that witnessed my outburst wouldn't be the one to help me, but of course he was. I should have told the doctor that I had some strange insurance in my eye. Maybe there is different (read: cheaper) medicine for that? What I got are steroid eye drops, so if you see me and I look mad, I'm not really. It's just that my eyes have 'roid rage so I look really mean. Also: The kids were at home during the "incident" at the pharmacy but Claire heard me complaining to Shane once I got home.

**I just noticed the name of the eye drops. I was spelling it wrong as I was screaming at the automated system. Oops.

Nothing better on a warm summer morning

Gavin can open the freezer now, and he just went and helped himself to a (still) frozen waffle. Waffle-pops are one thing, but I better put the lock on before he digs himself out a raw-chicken-sicle.

Holiday Road

This summer we are heading up to the Motherland (as Shane affectionately calls Canada) for our summer vacation. We are going to stay at Gord's chalet in Collingwood, a resort town a couple of hours north of Toronto. I am anticipating long summer-y days in the sun and cool evenings, with the family gathered in the kitchen or on the deck, eating delicious meals that everyone pitched in to make, the kids calmly playing and giggling in the corner after a day in the pool, a cold glass of white in hand and lots of good times and laughs on hand...memories to last a lifetime. You know, like in the movies!

My mom, the kids and I are packing up the mini-van and driving up around the 20th of June. Shane and my dad will fly up and meet us there. Sarah and Gord will be in the city during the week and will join us for the weekends. We'll be gone about a month altogether...nice to be out of Texas for part of the sweaty summer.

I just realized that we have really been talking up the trip, but mostly the drive aspect of it. Anytime Claire asks if we are almost there because it is taking forever to drive the 3 miles to Target, I remind her that we are driving ALL THE WAY TO TORONTO! and it is a much, much longer drive. And making sure that she knows the hotels we'll stay in have pools! And we'll have so much fun together in the car! Propaganda to help smooth the 24 hour drive. I haven't even really talked about what we are going to do when we get there, just talking about the drive.

When my mom was here just over a week ago, she and Claire started a list of things we need to make sure to bring. Movies...specific titles included, snacks...specific types included, vitamins, stuffed animals, toothbrush, toothpaste and suddenly...Oh! Put Gavin on the list, Gummy! So Gavin made the To Bring list after all. I like how a) he was not just assumed to be coming and b) he joined the list after movies, toys and snacks. And she added Gavin's toy car, so that was nice.

I am looking forward to it all, even the drive. I guess this time we won't take a detour through very Deliverance-esque backwoods to get to Lynchburg to tour the Jack Daniel's distillery like Sarah and I did last time we made the drive. And maybe we'll steer clear of the very, very bad part of Memphis my mom and Sarah ended up in last time they made the drive. We'll play it by the AAA rules this time around.

Anyone have any fun road trip games to share?

Well, it is water-proof...

Claire and I were out for a while. Came home and shortly thereafter noticed (by the smell) that Gavin had a dirty diaper. I said that the poop was on Shane's watch and therefore he should change the diaper. Shane retorted that no, it was on my watch. And then I won by saying no, the poop was definitely on his watch. (We are very mature) Claire came over and asked if she could see. She was wondering if Daddy's watch was in the diaper or what.

Remains of the Day

Mess 1:Mess 2:
Mess 3:
Lock of hair yanked from Claire's head by her loving little brother:

A friend of mine recently had a baby and another is going to have one in a few weeks. I enjoy their postings on Facebook, and also like reading what comments other people leave. The most frequent theme people are eager to share with these new or soon-to-be-moms is how quickly time goes by, and how before they know it, their kid will be 5 or 10 or 40. I do the same thing. I saw a 5-day old baby at the playground yesterday and remarked to his mom that it seems like only yesterday that Gavin was that small. And I look and listen to Claire and am constantly surprised and amazed that I have a 4.5 year old. And I will think the same thing when she is 7 (I can't even imagine that, but it will be here in the blink of an eye) and just growing growing growing up. And time just keeps goin going going by. Life does feel like it is on fast-forward sometimes and I don't want to miss a thing (thank you Aerosmith).

BUT! Some days last forever. Some days you wish your baby would just get all his damn teeth already and stop crying. Some days you wish that your house wasn't quite so strewn with toys, none of which seem quite right to play with for more than 45 seconds before pulling the next one out. Some days the insignificant frustrations feel bigger than the indescribable love you have for your kids. Today was one of those days. I hate it when I wish my time away, and wish that it was a school day or that it was still nap-time or that I still worked or they were bigger and able to play by themselves better, or smaller and sleeping more and aren't those FB-posters with their good advice so annoying. I hate it because I know in hindsight I will only want that time back, and won't be able to have it. Sigh. Reality has such a dampening effect on my ideals. Tomorrow I will be perfect and doting and gushy and mushy, but today...today I am glad it is bed-time.

What I've Learned from Poison Control

1. The number is 1-800-222-1222. If you dial 1-800-222-1212 you have to be 18 and the cost is $.69 to $3.00 a minute.

2. Calcium bonds to fluoride and helps get rid of any excess which may have been ingested when your kid gets a hold of an almost empty travel toothpaste tube you keep in the downstairs bathroom so you can brush your teeth conveniently without dragging everyone upstairs to the real bathroom. So, milk after toothpaste is recommended.

3. Your body treats the ingredients in sunscreen like apsirin, so if your kid sprays some neutragena cooling mist sunscreen into his mouth don't give him aspirin. Not that you would give your kid aspirin anyway, but just in case you were considering it after the mouth spritz, don't. Also, for a 21 lb kiddo, three teaspoons would need to be ingested before it reaches a toxic level. At smaller doses it can cause gastro-intestinal upset, but doesn't always, I found.

4. Calling Poison Control two times in two days makes you feel like a terrible mother.

trouble

Emergent Potty Humor

Claire is beginning to explore the enduring fascination/hilarity of off-color remarks.

Recent examples include:

1) Knock, knock...

Who's there?

Banana.

Banana who?

Banana Mickey Mouse Toilet! (hahahahahahaahah)

2) I gave her some rice crispies this morning, and asked if she could hear them snap, crackle and pop. Not knowing the marketing behind the phrase, Claire simply responded, "Speaking of that, I just passed gas".

3) The very intricate retelling of her dream last night was largely focused on a monster who pooped out of its feet. It went on to try to eat all of us, chased us to a faraway land where a firebird and the fairies protected us and there was a giant butterfly and it went on from there but it kept going back to the pooping feet.

Meanwhile, Gavin has decided to put as much as he can in the toilet whenever he gets the opportunity. Claire's water bottle, a sippy cup, a necklace etc etc. I went and bought toilet locks today. Closing the bathroom doors would be easiest but these things happen when we are all in the bathroom (which we frequently all seem to be, despite my desire for a little privacy in that area) and Claire and I are washing hands or brushing teeth and he takes advantage of the situation. My customary lament: Claire never did these things and we never installed a toilet lock or fridge lock (he also opens the fridge and freezer). So, boy? Or just Gavin? Or is all of his sister's potty talk driving him to do it?

Crazy Hair Day with Auntie Sarah

Today was Crazy Hair Day at school. Claire would never let me put pony-tails and feathers in her hair without a lot of dramatic wincing and carrying on, but with Auntie Sarah in town, Claire was more than willing.

Confetti Eggs

It seems like just the other day I was posting last year's Easter pics up here. But last year Gavin slept through everything, and this year he was very involved. Here he is trying to break a confetti egg on Shane's head (and his own). We think the eggs had an extra layer of shellac on them or something. They were much harder than we remembered. Despite the sounds, no one sustained any head injury.

More pics to come, although Claire moves so fast now I am not sure if I got any good ones of her collecting her eggs.

we could watch this all day

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Nature's Bounty

Today we went for a short walk (I am still recovering from a swollen, purple, grotesque toe so can't walk far. That's another story. OK, not a story. I tripped over nothing and managed to really hurt my toe. I took pictures, but I guess I will refrain from posting them. Although they are pretty cool-looking. Anyway, hence the short walk. If it wasn't for my toe we would have hiked 10 miles, easy)

Along the way, Claire picked me some lovely wild flowers:

Not to be outdone, Gavin picked me his first such offering:

Of course I love both gifts equally, even though one is in water on the counter and one is in the compost.

New Dress

Would PETA approve of Claire's zoo?

Yes!

Finally earning their keep

My 18-plus year plan to avoid doing housework is finally coming to fruition.

(The rag Gavin has was used as a fingerpaint rag yesterday, it is not (just) filth from the floor)