A Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Straw Wrapper Go Down

Eating, if you can call it that…
Mags, today you ate a straw wrapper while I was helping Ellie eat some fruit as we had lunch at Starbucks (now, one of your favorite places). I have no idea why you chose to eat a straw wrapper other than for the shock value of being able to say to me, “Mama, I just ate the whole bag and now it’s all the way down in my tummy.” When I didn’t know what the hell you were talking about since clearly the word "wrapper" eluded you, you were kind enough to take the little piece that you had pulled off the top when you opened the straw, shove it in your mouth and swallow it before I could pry your jaws open to try to remove it. At least at that point, I knew what you had swallowed. Oddly, I didn’t really care. Yes, you ate some green ink from the writing on the wrapper. Probably some other unfortunate papermaking chemicals. But, in all likelihood, I’m thinking a little extra fiber won’t hurt all that much.

This morning, I noticed that you had been in the bathroom off the kitchen a little longer than usual and that you had not called out for “help” as you usually do if you are in there for more than 2 minutes. When I called to see if you needed help, you said “no.” When I asked what you were doing, you said, “…...nothing.” When I tried to open the door, it was locked. However, when I told you to open it to let me in, it only took 10 seconds or so for you to respond. When I opened the door, you had a sheepish smile on your face and a half-eaten wrapperful of Smarties in your hand. There was also an empty sleeve on the table by the toilet. “I was hiding from you and eating my candy.” “Obviously.” Then, “It started out as flowers but then it turned into candy.” Then I think you muttered some of the lyrics from "The Candyman" song from Willy Wonka. (Okay, what have I done to get my 3-year old to hide from me when she eats candy?) Whatever. So what if it was before you had any breakfast? You were given a total of three rolls of Smarties as Valentine’s candy, and after 2 weeks, you still had 2 ½ rolls leftover. Maybe I am too parsimonious with the candy. It certainly was no big deal. When I picked you up and gave you a hug because you looked so damn pathetic in there, you actually apologized to me.

Movies
I am also fascinated by how certain movies are now such a part of your life. For example, if I say, “Go get dressed, we need to run a few errands," you will do anything in your power to stay in your nightgown including rushing onto my bed and hopping up and down to keep me from tackling you and forcing you to change your underpants and put on clothes. However, if I use my best Mary Poppins voice to say, “Spit spot, Maggie, you need to get dressed so we can go on an outing!” you say, “Okay, are we going to go fly kites?” At naptime, when you ask if you can put on your nightie and I agree, you are so overjoyed that you start to sing, “I Could Have Danced All Night.” You spread your wings and flit around the room like Eliza Doolittle. This morning you were reading/singing “My Favorite Things” as if you were a teacher presenting it to your class from atop the IKEA storage furniture... I am also fascinated lately by your song requests in the car – “Step In Time” (weighing in at 8+ minutes) is the current favorite, and I am amazed by how you actually must be visualizing the entire dance number in your head. That song has so many parts where there are no words, and you’ll say things like, “Now Mary Poppins is spinning around!” just based on the orchestration. You are also quite fond of anything George Banks sings – especially “A Man Has His Dreams” – which you call the “other spoonful of sugar.” (That took me a while to figure out, much to your frustration.):

George sings: A man has dreams of walking with giants - to carve his niche in the edifice of time. Before the mortar of his zeal has a chance to congeal, the cup is dashed from his lips. The flame is snuffed aborning. He's brought to rack and ruin in his prime. My world was calm, well-ordered, exemplary. Then came this woman with chaos in her wake. And now my life's ambitions go with one fell blow. It's quite a bitter pill to take.

Bert sings: A spoonful of sugar, that is all it takes. It changes bread and water into tea and cakes. A spoonful of sugar goes a long, long way. 'Ave yourself a 'ealthy 'elping every day. You're a man of 'igh position, esteemed by your peers, and when your little ones come cryin', you 'aven't time to dry their tears and see them little grateful faces smilin' up at you... because their dad, he always knows just what to do... You've got to grind, grind, grind at that grindstone, though childhood slips like sand through a sieve. And all too soon they've up and grown and then they've flown and it's too late for you to give just that spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down...

With all that we listen to this, I actually am a bit disappointed that you aren’t quoting it more. Frankly, that’s the only reason why I continue to oblige when you ask for it. I can’t wait for the day I do something to piss you off and you yell at me, “Mama, you’ve brought me to rack and ruin in my prime!” Or, when I say, “Mags, why did you _________?” (ex. “eat the straw wrapper”) You say, “Mama, I was carving my niche in the edifice of time.”

Sharing
I am really impressed by how well you’re sharing these days. If I buy, say, a container of fruit and try to separate it into two equal parts for you and Ellie, you have a fit. BUT, if I give the container to you and tell you it’s to share with Ellie, you will quite equitably distribute the chunks between the two of you. In fact, today at lunch, you gave her all but one of the grapes, which is the fruit of choice for both of you. I thought that was very kind. You have also developed a pretty effective strategy for getting a toy from Ellie that you want. In the past, you would just wrest whatever the object of your desire was from her little hands and leave her screaming and crying face-down on the floor. As you know, this did not please me. Now, if you want something that Ellie has (still most often, simply because she happens to have it), you scout the area for a
comparable toy/object/whatever. You then kind of force a trade in the name of sharing. Luckily for you, Ellie (being a pretty laid-back kid under normal circumstances) often is perfectly fine with the swap, leaving both of you happy and entertained. And, I’m sure, filling you with some sort of sense of having created a win-win situation.

The Bizarre and Ridiculous

Although no charges will be filed, I have still found another place to buy my London broil.

And, when people back east wonder how Clark County differentiates itself from Portland across the river, all I need to say is that SHE chooses to live over here.

I Believe I Can Fly

In just a few days we will be flying across the country with both children, and I have begun my mental calisthenics and physical preparations. Using my Mommy/Zen Master powers, I will single-handedly stop the passing of time and will create a fold in the universe that will allow us to hop across the United States of America with a single step and a blink of the eye. At least, that is how it will play out in my mind.

I will stock bags with snacks and entertainment, perhaps procure a surprise DVD to be unveiled mid-flight. I will pack wipes, diapers, cheese sticks, stuffed animals, shiny things, treats, extra clothes, empty baggies, tissues, pretzels, and secret mommy props that will allow me, while in a state of deep relaxation, to anticipate and overcome any potential obstacle. My children will be rested, happy, polite and easy to entertain/physically restrain. If they are not, I will not get flustered. I will pace the aisles with either child as if practicing walking meditation - envisioning a beautiful flower growing up wherever I plant my foot. I will contort my body in the airplane restroom to either change a diaper or hold up a 3-year old while she steadfastly refuses to pee. If my husband begins to exhibit signs of stress, I will give him the stink eye and then gently rub the back of his neck, even as he wipes an entire plastic cup full of apple juice from his jeans. Without even thinking, the frown will disappear from his face, replaced by a gentle smile. And then, we will land, as if the entire flight lasted no longer than mere minutes. What does it matter that we will land in Newark just in time for rush hour traffic? I will bring my Mommy-Calm to that leg of the journey as well. My family will follow my lead - a veritable peaceful breeze blowing in from the west. It will be FABULOUS. I can hardly wait.

So Very White...

I was taking a break from work and I noticed an interesting-looking link on my NPR (#44) homepage. Sipping my 3rd cup of #1 while my #53 napped at my feet, I thought about how Mags woke up this morning and said, "Mama, I want to go to the #36!" So, we did.

I can't wait until later, when #56 comes home to work on #37. Then, when the kids are in bed, maybe a little #24 and #38. Yes, we have the orange box.

Crocuses

The crocuses are in full bloom in the yard. The weather has them suckered into thinking that winter is over. FOOLS.

I do the NY Times crossword in bed

...and this pen is why I don't go insane. It's a Fisher Space Pen, and you can use it at any angle and the ink still flows. So, you can sit in bed, hold your newspaper at whatever angle you want and use the pen without having to shake it, draw scribbles on the side, whatever. And, I have it in my favorite color, the lime green, but it comes in a wide variety. I don't have a ton of stuff that I would remember to miss if I had to leave my house in an hour with only a carful of possessions (God forbid say, Mt. St. Helens was about to let loose in our direction...), and while this might not make it into the car, I would miss it.

You Can Ride in my Kick-Butt Red Wagon

This wagon rocks. Grandpa Joe (Jay's dad) got it at the PX at Fort Lewis (near Tacoma) and gave it to the girls sometime last year, but it's really earning its parking spot on the porch these days when the weather is nice. We just have to remember to pump up the tires before I try to get Maggie to pull me again. I found the same wagon on eBay and here.Also, take note of Maggie's footwear. Nothing says, "I AM THREE!" like a Zoe slipper on one foot and a princess slipper on the other. Outside, in February.

Photo of the Week

A warm sunny day has to make an old dog's hips a little less sore... and a little peace and quiet must send it right over the top.

Everything's Better with Ketchup?

Last night was one of those "what can I make for dinner that does not involve stopping at the store with the kids on the way home from KinderCare" nights. I dug deep and found that I had both a package of ground turkey and a can of cream of mushroom soup. Believe me when I tell you that when you put those two things in a frying pan and heat them up, magic happens. No really. My mom and dad would say it needs to be hamburger, but it doesn't. Put that steaming gunk over some brown rice or mashed potatoes and mmm mmm! (It can't be grilled salmon and steamed broccoli every night...)

I left for class before Maggie settled in to eat. (We really have to start getting everyone to the table at the same time. I watched a bit of SuperNanny last night, and I know she would agree on that point...) But, I trusted Jay to get her to eat something. When we chatted at the bathroom sink as we brushed our teeth before bed, I asked about Maggie's dinner. He said something like,
"She loved that stuff - just had to add some ketchup and she scarfed it down!"
"You added ketchup to what? Please wait - don't say what I think you're about to say - NOOOO!"
But yes, my daughter ate brown rice, ground turkey, cream of mushroom soup and KETCHUP for dinner. And loved it.

Swelled up with the memories

Just looking at these pictures makes my ankles balloon up like an elephant. (Gray shirt is Mags. Bare belly is Ellie.) But, at the moment, we're going through a phase where these photos are getting more attention than Boowa and Kwala and Willy Wonka combined. Oh, and the questions they evoke from the little one - "Mama, you were in my belly?" "I was in your belly?" "Where was Ellie?" "Who's in there?" "I was a baby yesterday?" And then there's just, "Whoa! Mama! Look at you in that picture! What happened?" Then we all laugh and I thank the heavens above that I have two beautiful little girls and sole ownership over my belly for the foreseeable future.

On Saturday, Ellie will be the exact age that Maggie was when Ellie was born.

Maggie and the Moon

We have a routine that must be followed before I leave to go teach Jazzercise at night. First, everyone must have kisses and hugs - and Maggie must see each kiss and hug actually happen or I must give a second kiss and hug to the person in question. Then, Mags must open the door for me and yell into the night, "BYE BYE, MAMA! I LOVE YOU! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" I yell back that I love her, too, and wish her a happy new year as well. It works for us.

Tonight, as I was finishing up kissing Ellie, Maggie went ahead and opened the door into the very dark, clear night. "Mama! Oooh! Look at the moon! It's so beautiful!" Instead of muttering, "Yep it is" and rushing out the door, I actually glance up at it, and holy crap, Mags has spotted a full-on lunar eclipse. She notices and questions EVERYTHING in her little world - Often I find this somewhat trying and annoying, but tonight, I think it's wonderful and very special.

Tricycling Down the Information Super-Highway

Maggie's favorite website. If you don't mind a blue singing dog (Boowa) who's best friends with a little gold koala bear with a French accent (Kwala), this site has some fun/harmless songs and games that really get Mags' interest. Suddenly, she can use a mouse and actually be successful at a number of the games and activities. When we found the site (probably almost a year ago), she was mostly into the songs, but she has since developed the motor skills needed to use the mouse, a few extra ounces of patience with herself, and an interest in the games and activities.

I like the site because, well, who doesn't like a blue dog and a gold koala? Also, they're not princesses or goofy red furry monsters and the site seems to have a more international perspective (which I think is a good thing). If you're interested, you can even change the languages that Boowa and Kwala use. There's a free version (with ads) or a premium version (no ads). We might upgrade to premium someday. For now, avoiding the ads just means Mags has to learn to control the mouse more effectively.

The Ladies Love Dino

I finally learned an ender from our last set that's done to Dean Martin and Kevin Spacey (schmooshed together through the magic of technology) singing "King of the Road." (iTunes) Sometimes it's hard to tell if the folks like a song, but with this one - even the quiet ones sing while they stretch. It really is a catchy tune.

When they're too small for tipping cows...

...nothing's more fun than a ride on the lawn tractor on a sunny day in February.

Photo of the Week

Here is what the sunrise looked like on Friday morning. Maggie, who is usually completely psyched to see one - "Mama! Look the clouds are PINK! Look what the Fairy Godmother did!" - was too busy playing games on the internet to be disturbed. So, I took some pictures for her. Even when I brought them to show her, she was not sufficiently impressed to come take a look for herself. Kind of disturbing.

Love Sick?

The last time either Jay or I felt normal was when we went out for lunch on Valentine's Day. We ate the same chicken schwarma gyro meal and then had the same delicious cupcakes. I don't know what/if any of the above is to blame or if we coincidentally caught some nasty "love bug." I do know that my favorite pink thing in the house is not the dozen roses Jay gave me, but rather the big bottle of Pepto Bismol sitting on the kitchen counter.

Smarties Tantrum

Often as a mom, it's hard to tell where to draw the line with Maggie. Luckily, sometimes she gives me easy challenges.

"Mama, I want to eat my Valentines candy for breakfast."

"Hmm, let me see. NO."

At this very moment, Maggie is in her room in the throes of a tantrum because I would not let her eat Smarties for breakfast. Yesterday, although we didn't give her candy, she managed to acquire her fair share at KinderCare. She brought her little stash home and decided it would make a fabulous morning treat. At first, the discussion was very civilized:

Mama, I want to save my candy for later.

I think that's great.

I want to put my lollipop in the refrigerator.

Sure, we can put it on the shelf by the jelly.

I want my other candy. I want to save it for later. I'll get my step-stool so I can get it down.

Okay, where should we put it to save it for later?

I want to hide it from you. Will you help me hide it? (She crawls under the kitchen table.) Will you help hide me with the chairs?

Are you planning on hiding from me?

Yes.

(And it's important to point out here that Maggie's sense of time and use of words to refer to time is not really developed, so "save it for later" really means "I want to sit here and eat three wrappersful of sugar wafers while you wonder where I've gone.") So, I ask her to give it to me. Again. Again. Finally, I take the candy. AND SHE FLIPS OUT. I tell her that I realize I've just made her very angry, but my empathy quickly dissolves when her red-faced, tear-stained vitriol crosses whatever invisible mommy-line I have drawn in my head (actually, it's when I feel myself getting really angry back at her.)

"Put me down! I don't love you! Put me down! I don't want to pull it together!"

I take her to her room, where I leave her screaming and crying as if I'd just pulled her toenails out AND told her that Santa Claus is a big jolly lie.

As I've been writing this, a sweet-faced little cherub has tapped me on the back. "Mama, I stopped crying! But my eye is still a little wet. Can I have some yogurt for breakfast?"

Start to finish on this adventure, maybe 7 or 8 minutes. Not so bad.

Children need structure. Children love structure. Children crave structure.

Singing Cupcake-Grams and Homemade Valentines

I came thisclose to having a tray of cupcakes delivered to Jay's office by someone belting out "How Sweet it is to be Loved by You." Truth is, I love the cupcakes from this place, and I personally would enjoy the grand/ridiculous gesture. However, nobody delivers anything out where we live, and Jay would never see the value in doing something like that. Funny how we both tend to get/consider getting each other gifts that we actually would prefer ourselves (case in point, the pair of Carhartt overalls I got for my first Mother's Day).

Anyway, he is not an easy man to shop for. But, Mags and I did take some time before KinderCare this morning to make him some lovely homemade Valentines. These will be the sweetest gifts of all, I'm sure.

Everybody Needs a Rock

One of my favorite things to do is collect interesting rocks. Another one of my favorite activities is reading to the girls. How nice to have a book that shares the wonder of rock hunting with little kids.

Everybody Needs a Rock - by Byrd Baylor

If you order one copy for now and one copy to give to someone later, I guarantee they'll both find good uses - especially if you happen to like rocks, and kids...

Field Trip

One of the great benefits of working pretty flexible hours from home is being able to take some time and be a silly mom with a camera recording her daughter's first real live field trip... to Les Schwab, great northwest tire purveyor, free beef distributor and running tire-guy employer.

This particular Les Schwab is well-within shouting distance of our KinderCare, so at 10:30 this morning, clad in matching green t-shirts, Ms Cheryl's class (accompanied by a few moms/hand holders) trekked "across the wood chips" in between the parking lots for a lesson on the tools needed to change a tire. In return for their exemplary behavior, the class was rewarded with popcorn from the waiting area.

What on earth does Ms Cheryl to do elicit such charming behavior in our children - kindness, excitement, wonder, hand-holding, willingness to wait in line for popcorn? I am convinced that some sort of group mentality must take hold - at home, Mags realizes that to get all of our attention, all she would need to do is bump off one pesky little sister. Here, she'd have to take on nine other kids, which, being a smart girl, she realizes is a losing proposition, so she just kicks back and blends in... Is that what it is?

Love Songs for Workouts

In this week where love is our focus (as if there's ever a week in which love is not our focus...), here are a couple of love-centric songs that are great for getting the heart pumping in preparation for Valentine's Day.

All of Your Love (Hellogoodbye - the Jimmy Pop remix)
Every Time We Touch (Cascada)

...and then, if you want one that's just good for feeling hot and bothered and like you want to bump and grind - or perhaps just squeeze your glutes to a little High School Musical cutie:

Let's Dance (Vanessa Hudgens)

All are available on iTunes.

Pinwheel Log Cabin Quilt

Here is a look at the quilt my mother-in-law just finished for us. It really "ties the room together..." It's based on the colors from one of my favorite Richard Diebenkorn paintings - just kind of makes me wake up happy. I can't even imagine how many hours it took to make it - and all I had to do was ask. "Good Mother-in-Law! Now I will release my children toward you so they can provide payment in sticky kisses."

Ocean Park #115 at the Museum of Modern Art, NY.

Am I the last one to see this?

Yesterday morning after I taught class, I ended up in a conversation among a few moms who made reference to "The Mom Song." Everyone else laughed knowingly because they had already heard it - I thought "Hmm, sounds cute. Maybe I'll look it up." I did, and found the video has been viewed well over 6 million times, leaving me to wonder quietly, "How many moms are there with access to the Internet?" And, "Am I really the last one of us to look at this woman singing?"

The things that come out of their mouths!

This morning, the girls and I met Jay at the Depot at Jantzen Beach to buy a new refrigerator. The $1599 Depot price beat anything we could find – So, when we add a $100 Home Depot rebate and then add the savings we got because I was willing to apply for a Home Depot credit card to get an extra 10% off, we did okay. Our total will be about $1340 – well, minus the $15 to take the old fridge to the dump. Jay's dad deposited $1500 into our joint account for the purchase, because sometimes he’s just nice like that. So, we’ll make about $150 on the deal in addition to a free new fridge that doesn’t need to be kicked closed.

As I stood at the counter waiting to pay with all of my paperwork, Ellie puked all over Jay – and herself – and the floor of Home Depot. I told the woman at the customer service desk that my daughter had just puked, and revealing in a nanosecond that she had never spewed forth her own descendants, made a grossed out face and handed me a giant roll of paper towels. Am I wrong to have expected her to call for help? Must they not have some sort of policy for cleaning up human waste once it is disgorged by a toddler in the middle of the main customer walkway of the store? Hmm. In a remarkable display of helpfulness, Maggie wanted to clean up the entire mess… and I did not want her to.

We then let Jay go back to work in his puke-stained coat, which thankfully, had been zipped over his work clothes. As he headed south, we headed north, with me wondering what we were going to do for lunch. Our “Plan A” had been to stop for lunch at Panera (aka “The Bagel House”) on the way home. We have been suffering for lack of bagels for over a week and needed a fix. Maggie had been informed of Plan A before leaving home and she is not one to flex to Plan B just because her sister is covered with stomach-bile-and-old-yogurt scented puke. Before we had left the parking lot of the Depot, Mags had informed Ellie in a stern voice (with vocal tone the auditory equal to a wagging pointer finger), “ELLIE, we Puke in the Toilet, Not on the Floor!”

So, our conversation in the car about lunch went like this: “Mags, if Ellie seems okay when it comes time, we might be able to stop for bagels, but we’ll have to take them home to eat them.”
“No, I want to eat at the bagel house.”
“Your sister is covered with puke, and she smells. Besides, she might have to puke again.”
“They have pies at the bagel house.”
“They have pies at the bagel house?”
“No, not pies – potties. They have potties at the bagel house.”
“Yes, they do. You’re right.”
“Well, then, if Ellie has to puke when we’re at the bagel house, she can go to the potty and puke. So we can eat lunch at the bagel house.” (That period should have a font size of at least 100, and it should be bold and italicized as if to say “end of story.”)

So, we pulled into the Bagel House (…Panera…) and before opening any doors, I said, “Mags, I need to hear you agree with me. We are going in and getting bagels to take home.”
“I want to eat at the bagel house.”
(Yeah, I got that…) “You can either agree with me or we can leave without any bagels right now.”
(Silence. Car is put into reverse.) “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“So, we’re going to get bagels and then take them home to eat.”
“Yes…”

So, even though I’ve got verbal agreement on the plan, I realize as well as she does that this will get her in the door, where without any notice, she can go back on her word and run to a booth and stuff herself so deeply under the table that I would be unable to do anything being that with one arm, I am holding a vomit-covered baby (and trying not to get too close to her stinky little body). However, there was just a loud protest once we got through a lengthy checkout process (Panera Girl: “Oh my gosh, my cash register just crashed right after I ran your credit card! I’m not sure what to do, it’s never done that before…”). I have discovered that under the given circumstances, I have no problem dragging my eldest out of a place of business while playing tug of war with her over a baker’s dozen worth of bagels. She can scream, she can cry, she can sound like the world’s biggest spoiled brat, but there are times when there can be no compromise.
Maggie to me, “I’m not your friend!”
Me to Maggie, “I’m not your friend, either. I am your MOTHER. Get in the car.”

Photo of the Week

Trying to tell herself how completely wonderful her Burt's Bees baby shampoo is. Once she was done talking to the mirror, she couldn't help but try to kiss her own face. It's good to think your own face is cute enough to kiss.

I'm Going to New York

This morning after strapping Ellie into her carseat for the ride to KinderCare, I turned to put Maggie in. She was halfway down our long driveway dragging her little red wagon - and moving pretty quickly.

"Hey, Mags! Where are you going"

"I'm going to New York. Run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me - I'm going to New York!"

The Famn Damily

Here's the center of my universe, for future reference. Maggie's the one dressed for a tea party (no, not a burlesque show), Ellie and Jay are in the snow.

Fine day to get started

Why bother starting this thing? Because I can, I guess. I have years of journal entries in a document ingeniously called "journal" on my C drive - and password protected (password: journal). God forbid my computer ever crashes and makes that big ole Word document disappear. Recently, I've started adding some photos to said Word document, making it more of a behemoth than it ever has been - and perhaps, putting it more at risk. So, since I have this (possibly misplaced) belief that if it is in a blog, it is forever preserved somewhere in the ether, here I go.

Here's the skinny on me. I'm 39. I have two cute kids - one is 3 (Maggie) the other is 19 months (Ellie). Husband = Jay. I work two part-time jobs from home - designing training programs and delivering them online. One company deals with call centers (out of NJ), the other provides web/audio conferencing services (out of Portland, OR). The Portland boss used to be a client at the NJ job, so there is alot of history with both. I am truly lucky because each is very flexible, so I can keep the kids in KinderCare three days a week and have them with me the other two. I live in Washington state, just north of the Oregon border, but I am originally from NJ. I may still have some east coast toughness in me, or it could just be something I imagine I have to make me feel stronger than I actually am. I am an only child, which is most of the reason why I chose to have two children. However, as an only child with two children, I often have no idea how to break the connection between my eyeballs so that one can focus on one moving target while the other remains locked on the other. I teach Jazzercise - which is huge for me, and (if I may say so), I am in rockin' good shape - and no, we don't wear leotards, for the love of God.

Today's slice of life: Today Mags took my container of 50 state quarters out of my desk drawer. Upon retrieving it and taking it into the bedroom, I looked through the quarters that had accumulated on my closet shelf and happened to find – yes – a Michigan quarter! Such a ridiculous cause for dancing around in my pajamas, I know… but I have been looking for so long! Then, I went through Jay’s change jar and found the remaining 2007 quarters I had yet to collect. Now, I am only missing the 2008 quarters, which may not even be in circulation yet. I am so cool. I also believe I have located all of the various pictures on my computer and am in the process of waiting while they all transfer themselves over into the same massive folder. I have renamed most of the sub-folders so they are kind of descriptive and have even found the pictures from Halloween 2005 which contain possibly the cutest picture ever of Ellie (actually, maybe the cutest picture of any baby anywhere - see above). Update on the Burgermeister Meisterberger Rule at KinderCare (the new "no toys from home" edict) – Apparently toys brought specifically for naptime cuddling are acceptable. Pocketsful of matchbox cars are not. Funny, that’s not how the big sign on the front door with the fat circle with the line through it comes across. Glad I asked.