Gentle

Love Thursday

Here's some love on Thursday. This was on the ferry from Tacoma to Vashon Island (which we took out and back, just because...) There was some tickling and lots of rain.

Here's the backstory: I read some mommy blogs. For a couple of years, I've read Dooce religiously. She's funny sometimes, and she takes good pictures and has cute pets and children. I know she gets alot of hate mail basically because she is so well-known and puts out so many opinions and often talks more about herself than some people really care to know. I am not emotionally invested in her blog, but I guess that many people are (for good or bad). Still - today she put up a link to all of the hate mail she gets and has blasted it with ads, in an effort to turn the hate into money. It's all just a little sad. I can't imagine getting all of the hate mail, but I also can't imagine putting it out there for all to see and to make money off of it. It's kind of an example of two wrongs not making a right.

On the flip side, I also read Chookooloonks. This is the blog of a woman/mom/wife/artist on a journey to bring more love, authenticism (is that a word?), beauty and truth into her life. Her blog is not read by as many people as Dooce, but she has fans - mostly those who also think that sharing and spreading love and beauty and truth are worthy goals. She is a lawyer turned artist, and she has some lovely thoughts. One of these is Love Thursday. When I checked her blog today, she had 24 Ways to Show Some Love in the next 24 Hours. I thought this was so much more the way I wanted my day to start off today, that I, too, decided to share a love photo and to maybe try one or two of the things she suggests. Sorry, Dooce.

Sleeping Beauty

Diggin' for Friskies

Ellie and Mags were on the porch when I heard a bit of commotion. Nothing too crazy, mind you, just enough to know that something was up. When I inquired as to what might be amiss, Ellie was kind enough to say, "Cat food up by dose." Then she giggled. And, thus began the search for tweezers, the extraction attempts (her nostrils are kind of small) and the end result on the tip of the pincers without a single tear or even darkening of anyone's mood. They don't teach this stuff in Mommy School.

Atticus

Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet...
Colette

1,4-dimethylcyclohexane - Really!

I have made the official policy at our house, "If You Are Sick, You Can Watch Television All Day," and that seems to be working well. So, I am doing my chemistry homework on the computer. I just drew this lovely molecule. I don't know how they taught chemistry when the instructors actually had to LOOK at your homework - now it's all online. Lots of fun.

Okay, today I really mean it.

It is FAB-U-LOUS outside today. The princesses are wandering about singing songs and picking flowers. Time for a picnic lunch!

Breakfast for Two

Maggie's taking care of breakfast this morning - my only roles were to fry an egg, toast an English muffin and brew the coffee. At this rate, maybe it won't be that long until Jay and I can move into the outbuilding and leave the kids alone in the house... Oh, the quiet would be a nice change.

Fun with Personal Pronouns

How do you entertain a 2 1/2 year old? Get her up in the morning and say, "Hi, Ellie! You're you!"

"No, I'm ME! YOU'RE you!"

"You're right! I'm me!"

"No, YOU'RE YOOOOUUUU!!! I'm MEEEEEEEEEE!!"

"Yes, you are you! ...and I'm me."

"MAMA! You are YOU." (hands on hips, lips pursed, brow furrowed)

"Okay, you're Ellie. I love you. Let's go get some oatmeal."

Top Ten List #8: The Great Toy Purge

For Christmas, I got Ellie and Maggie a little wardrobe from IKEA in which to keep all of their dress-up gowns, shoes, tutus, wings, jewels, hats, tiaras, and sundry accessories. They loved it. However, within 5 minutes of realizing it was a present, they had emptied out its contents and started using the two sides as individual dressing rooms. Yes, they had to contort themselves like circus performers to fit inside the cubbies, but it was fun. For them. For me, I saw a piece of furniture designed to bring order to our lives instantly reduced to a backdrop for a large supply of pink frilly crap on the floor.

For a bit, I'd put it away at night. And, I'd try to get Maggie to clean it up. Have you ever tried to get the wind to stop blowing? Leaves from falling to the ground in autumn? The sun from rising in the morning? It didn't work (although Ellie will actually clean stuff up on her own with just a little prompting.) But, one kid straightening up isn't good enough because the other one can always come along behind her and dump the box of Legos or toss an entire bookshelf on to the floor because she thinks her favorite bracelet might be in there behind the books. So, one day while they were at KinderCare, I got out a few giant trash bags and moved everything that was not put away into the bags and then into storage bins in the garage (see above). I figured they'd come home and freak out. But, do you know what? Nobody freaked out. I don't think anyone noticed. This was a few weeks ago, and honestly, we're all okay.

There's some good stuff out there. Some of it is stuff that I'd actually like to put back into circulation. Her freakin' Sleeping Beauty dress is out there! And Ellie's Cinderella dress! And the accessories for Maggie's Sleeping Beauty vanity! It does not work without the accessories, but she has not asked for them even one time. Not one. In fact, the other day, Maggie came to me and told me that I could make all of her toy food "get lost like my other stuff." So I did - that's the little white bin on the top. The thing of it is, that even with the piles of stuff in the garage (much of which was new at Christmas), there's still enough stuff to make this happen (see below). I asked Maggie today, "If you could just keep three toys, what would they be?" She couldn't even name three things - she just said, "My big girl bed." Am I doing something wrong here?

Top Ten List #2: The Big 4-0

Okay, it's not so bad. Jay asked what I wanted, and I said to get my hair colored (haven't gotten around to that) and to see my dear friend Erica - who lives so close, but so far away in Portland. I got my annual ice cream cake - which is always so tasty, although I had made it clear (albeit to Mags) that I really wanted a homemade carrot cake. I also asked for a surprise party, but I suppose that's a bit contradictory. I was actually afraid I might wake up miserable, but the best cure for that is Jazzercise. At my Friday morning class, I brought one of the girls' tiaras to wear and we had a small little snack after class. My friend Jen brought balloons and some fruit, and a very kind couple brought me a potent lavender sachet (which is currently scenting my entire closet). On Saturday morning (the actual big day) I went to AM Jazzercise at the middle school. I am lucky in that Saturday morning Jazzercise is an instant estrogen party. It was packed, there was singing and well wishes and even a goofy birthday princess headband.

Later, Erica and Tim came up and we drank champagne and then all went to Pizzeria 360. Erica gave me a beautiful bunch of flowers - including the one in the photo, and we have planned a spa getaway day in PDX. Jay got me an online subscription to the NY Times Crossword. And then bedtime came and the next day dawned and so on and so on and... here we are.

Top Ten List - #1: Back to School

Yeah, I'm not going to work backwards here. My blog, my rules - The Top Ten List starts with #1. So here's the scoop - the number 1 thing that's been occupying my time in the last few weeks and keeping me so busy that I am thinking of writing down the kids' names so I don't forget is the fact that I'm officially back in school. No more Radclyffe-Schmadclyffe stuff. I am a contact center consultant no more. I am "in training" to get into a program to become a dietician - someday on the distant horizon. (It's a FAR more intense process than you might imagine, but I guess that's good.)

So, I found this program through Kansas State University (Go Wildcats!) that I can do through distance learning. Once I complete that, I have to do an internship, go for licensing, etc... but first things first. In order to get into that program, I need to meet a number of pre-requisites (that involve such things as chemistry and anatomy and physiology and - needless to say - not the type of classes one is likely to find on the transcript of a history/art history major). So, I am now enrolled at just about every community college in the Pacific Northwest and am deep in the process of getting up to speed.

But it's the chemistry at Clark College (Go Penguins!) that's taken over my life. I do have vague memories of high school chemistry - and they are not pleasant. I think (well, I know) at that point, I approached chemistry with: absolutely no interest at all, a bit of a vague belief that girls weren't supposed to be good at science, and a burning dislike for my teacher. So, needless to say, I don't remember much. But now I am 40 years old, have a specific reason for taking the class, and possess a strong determination do better than the slouched-over teenagers in my class. So, all is well. Yes, my instructor is younger than I am. Yes, I will have to don goggles and trust that said slouchy teenagers will not play games with acid near me in the lab. Yes, I am trying to learn the oxidation states of various polyatomic ions today. But I can do it. Right?

I actually carry my college transcripts around with me when I go to chemistry in case I need to remind myself that - say it with me - "I am good enough. I am smart enough. And, gosh darnit, people like me!"

And, in my ever-growing list of role modeling behaviors for the kids - I have taken to saying often - "Sorry, I can't play with you until I finish my homework."

Misery, thy Name is PINEAPPLE

Here is a photo of my last happy pineapple-eating experience. Now, here is my story: I am, for the most part recovered from the food nightmare that was last week, and I will share this information as a Public Service Announcement in the hopes that I will be able to save one other poor soul from the godawful pain that I have experienced in the last week.

Last Sunday, not yesterday, but the week before, I was in Costco shopping around for the usual - a giant box of oatmeal, a few flannel shirts, a 40-pound bag of dog kibble and a case of spendy Italian fizzy water. My eyes wandered, as they are wont to do, and landed upon a display of perky looking whole pineapples direct from Costa Rica. My mind flashed back to happy days spent lolling about the house in Molokai, drinking coffee in the morning and tossing back oversized chunks of juicy pineapple. I thought it would be fun to spend the $3.89 to allow the rest of my family to share in the joy-inducing flashback.

The next morning, Maggie woke up and said, "Mama, I want to watch a show." I said, "How about we have something to eat instead. Would you like some oatmeal??" She said, "No, I want some of THAT" - pointing, of course, to the pineapple on the kitchen counter.

"SURE!!" I said, and whipped out the giant kitchen knife. In no time at all, I had sliced, diced, divvied up pieces... Well, shortly thereafter, my mouth began to feel as if I had either stuck a hot poker between my lips and sucked on it like the wrong end of a mammoth lit cigarette or contracted some rare disease that involved turning my spit into caustic acid and my taste buds into tiny sponges. Eating became something to be dreaded. Suddenly, before putting anything in my mouth, I did a quick mental assessment of it's potential crunchiness (because things like chewed crackers felt like they were cutting into my tongue) and it's approximate acidity. Wine? Too acidic. Tomatoes? No. Spinach? No. Even milk - "Lactic acid? Will that hurt?"

So, as we know, Google is our friend. I searched "tongue pain" - and soon, without prompting, saw the word "pineapple" - Until then, I had not traced the potential cause of the misery - I didn't know if I was contagious. I didn't know if it would ever get better.

Apparently, pineapple - especially unripe pineapple - has something in it called Bromelain, which can be used as a meat tenderizer, and I had tenderized my tongue (well). When I say that I will never eat pineapple again, I am not being overdramatic. I read that I could expect the pain to last from 7-10 days, and it did. I went to Costco this past Saturday. Somewhere between the electronics and the cheese, I saw a kind-looking middle-aged man with a fresh pineapple in his cart. I seriously had to (silently) yell at myself inside my head to keep me from throwing my body into his cart and covering up that pineapple like it was a live grenade. I wanted to save the man, but then I realized that I wouldn't be able to do that if they kicked me out of the store for harassing the other customers. So, I let him go and I said a little prayer for his tongue health.

Direct Line to the Big Guy

I am enjoying parenting right now. I don't usually play alot of mindgames with the tots, but I am finding it refreshing to keep my cool and pull another authority figure into the equation this holiday season. I doubt I'm causing permanent damage...

This afternoon, Mags had a shower in our bathroom and then sat on our bed trying to avoid having me comb out her hair before naptime. Rather than fighting her, I was ignoring her antics and doing a sodoku puzzle on a little bench near the floor. All at once, I heard the sound of well, I wasn't sure what - you could tell there was a little friction - and that the noise was of the nefarious variety. It was definitely the sound of naughtiness in action, or, in common terms, blue ballpoint pen on 400-thread count pillowcase.

As I sprang from my bench to see what was the matter... my darling, wrapped in her pink butterfly towel, threw herself into the fetal position among the pillows, knowing that no good was about to come of her actions.

There was only one thing for a mama to do: Call Santa.

"I'm sorry, Mags, but you know that I'm one of Santa's helpers, and it's my sworn duty to report these types of things to him. That's how he knows who to put on the naughty list and who goes on the nice list." I picked up the phone and dialed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Don't call Santa!!! I don't want coal for Christmas! I want Santa to bring me TOYS!!!!!"

"Well, I'll see what I can do, but this is a pretty serious offense." Then Santa and I had a little conversation about how surprised we were that Maggie would be so flagrantly disrespectful and naughty so very close to the big day. While we spoke, Mags waited - eyes bulging, tears nestling into the corners of her eyes.

After I got off the phone, Maggie wanted to know if Santa was still coming to our house and if so, was he planning to bring her coal. (I am as certain as I can be that she has no concrete knowledge of what coal might be, but it's working for us.) I told her that I didn't know - it would depend on how she acted between now and Christmas and whether or not there was a big ink stain on the pillowcase when he came to visit.

So, it was a somber and repentant Maggie that let me comb through her gnarled hair. But, she recovered in time to beg to wear one of my nighties for naptime. As she got dressed, I went into the laundry room to douse the pillowcase with Spray and Wash. She came in, whining - "The straps are too long! I need you to fix them!"

"Maggie, for goodness' sake! Can't you see what I'm doing here?! I'm trying to clean the pillowcase and SAVE CHRISTMAS! You'll have to dress yourself."

When we got into her room and I was snuggling her into bed for nap, we heard the sound of Jay's footsteps in the house. Mags grabbed my arm - "DON'T ASK PAPA!!!"

"What?"

"Don't ask Papa that I was naughty!"

"You mean don't TELL Papa that you were naughty?"

"Yes. Don't tell Papa!"

...as if Papa is the one who helps Santa out around this house.

Kona Pipeline Coffee Porter

Hello to a new very favorite thing: Kona Pipeline Coffee Porter. This beer will be one of the enduring memories of our trip to Molokai. It was (happily) available in just about every store on the island, and Jay and I singlehandedly supported the Hawaiian economy for a week by drinking as much as possible. Jay has since found that the bottles are actually produced somewhere in Portland since there are no bottling facilities in the islands, and I have asked our beerman in Battle Ground to order us 2 cases of the limited release stuff (which we should be able to pick up tonight).

Coffee. Porter. Together. I'm thinking it's the perfect Hawaiian definition of multi-tasking.

Forget the Princess Dress - I'm Four!

Upon getting up at 6 AM on her 4th birthday, Maggie raided my closet, stole my little black dress and grew up. After a little oatmeal for breakfast, she hopped in the car and drove up to the corner market for a bottle of pinot noir.

Here also is a picture of her cake (which we ate on Sunday). Back in those good old days, she was still into pink and princesses - so here is the world's sweetest pink cake in the shape of a castle. Although, unintentionally, it looks a little like a "castillo de cumpleanos" since my "tower," red vine door and the gumdrops make the castle look a little like Dora the Explorer's house decorated for the holidays.

When Mommy is Sick

...this is what Maggie dresses herself in. And, it's what her father lets her wear to KinderCare. The shirt's even on backwards, and the shoes are on the wrong feet. Sorry the picture is blurry. The camera that will be mechanically designed to take a clear photo of so many different colors and textures has not yet been invented.

Po'Shines Cafe de la Soul

First let me say that our experience at this soul food restaurant was not entirely pleasant, but it had nothing to do with the food (which was excellent), the restaurant itself (we sat outside at a picnic table on a side street), the weather (it was beautiful), the price of the food (reasonable), etc., etc. No, we had kind of an unpleasant experience because Jay had the GALL to bring his friend Greg from work with him, and I was required by law and all that is good and decent to bring the kids along and not leave them hungry and home alone.

A certain girl who will remain nameless but who was wearing a pink princess dress decided that under no circumstance would she sit near, acknowledge or break bread with Greg. Because he is a monster. An ogre. A character from a horror movie. Well, no - Greg is a well-groomed, well-spoken, friendly father of two. Her refusal to eat with him - or even sit at the table while he was seated enabled Ellie to feel free to just cry - loudly - whenever she happened to turn her head so that Greg was located within the scope of her vision.

BUT, let me talk for a minute about Po'Shines.

Located near the giant statue of Paul Bunyan not far from the Interstate Max Line, Po'Shines is a soul food restaurant/non-profit organization connected to a church in North Portland. It's in an edgy neighborhood, and by "edgy", I mean one step up from sketchy and trying to keep improving. The area is shooting for a bit of gentrification, and there are a number of good places to eat lined up on the main street. Now, as far as "soul" goes, I don't know that either Jay or I have an unusually high amount of it, but we do love us our catfish. If we make it at home, I pan-fry it with a special spice rub that we make - our "Ring of Fire" rub. With the rub, it doesn't take too much skill to make a yummy catfish. But the catfish at Po'Shines is something altogether different and dare I say miraculous? It has a perfectly uniformly crispy cornmeal-type coating without having any grease. We can't figure out exactly how it's cooked... Baked? Maybe - but if so, you can't tell which side was touching the pan. I bet it's fried - but then, how do they avoid the grease? Maybe since it's connected to a church, God plays a hand in the cooking?

The sides are good - Hoppin' John, mac and cheese, red beans and rice... but really, I keep coming back to the catfish. They also have greens (we didn't try them) and hush puppies (one is good - more than one gets disgusting to me.) No corn bread, which I really missed.

But, the CATFISH. Did I mention the CATFISH? Because if I didn't, they have some GOOOOOD catfish.

So, yeah, we went to lunch and after trying to eat through one kid hiding under the table and the other crying whenever she was within 10 feet of Greg, eventually, Jay and Greg just left and went back to work. At this point, both children sit quietly at our picnic table and eat their lunch. (Of course.) Now, when I'm sitting outside eating with my two kids in any neighborhood, my mommy radar is on. "Keep away from the busy street!!" "Don't throw yourself on the sidewalk in front of the guy in the wheelchair!!" "Don't drop dishes on the sidewalk!!" "Don't touch the gum on the underside of the table!!" "Get your fingers away from the trashcan - Don't you see the bees?!?!" So, even if I look like I'm enjoying my food, one ear's to the ground, one eye is on any stranger who approaches, and one hand is tightly clasped to my purse lest any ne'er-do-well should look and see how high maintenance my kids can be and decide that it would be easy to make a quick swipe for the wallet. What would I do - run after him and leave my kids sitting there with half-eaten hush puppies? I think not. Moms with young kids are EASY targets, if you are someone who's willing to pay later by going straight to one of the lower circles of Hell.

Needless to say, when an old beater of a station wagon pulled up to the stop light on the side street from behind my left shoulder, I noticed that it was filled with 4 young men. Suddenly, one leaned out the window and started yelling - at me! It took probably a good two seconds to register that he was waving a book out the window - not just any book, no it was his Bible. And what was he yelling? "Did you like the food?? Great!! We're having a poetry reading here tonight at 8:00! You should come back!" Then, the light changed, they drove off and I was able to breathe again. A poetry reading. At the soul food restaurant next to the church.

Curiousity Makes the Cat Feel Stupid

I went out to dry some clothes in the sun and heard a really pissed off and frustrated sound coming from my left. I only took one picture before I helped him out. (If you can't tell, it's a little red metal watering can with a pesky handle that goes over the top.)

Her First Ralph Lauren Accessory

Okay, well, Ellie has had some trouble with her one eye drifting inward and crossing. We've been monitoring it, but it's not getting any better. In fact, it's gotten a bit worse, so her eye doctor decided it was time for eye glasses - make that bifocals. The lower part of the lens is blurry which is supposed to encourage her to keep looking in the top part, thereby preventing her from lowering either eye into the crossed position. This is apparently a very common problem and often can be corrected by glasses that eventually kids grow out of needing.

Jay and I had just gotten to the point where we wanted to know we could look our kid in the eyes - both eyes - at the same time. I figure with as fastidious as Ellie can be she might actually be a two-year old who WEARS her glasses, and so far, so good. And we think she looks freakin' adorable. We went with the kind of thick framed hipster kind of look instead of the wire-framed Barbie glasses. Jay thinks she's looking like Sarah Palin. I think that is completely ridiculous because I'd prefer her to look like Sally Jessie Raphael or even Harry Potter over Sarah Palin, but we try not to talk about politics much at our house. Just look at her - can't you just see her studying for finals at Harvard?

While we waited for her glasses to be made, we went to the Build-A-Bear store, and I let Ellie pick a critter out. My Mommy Idea was to have her create a critter and get said critter a pair of glasses that would somehow let Ellie know that glasses are cool - even stuffed animals wear them. It was Ellie's first trip into the world of Build-A-Bear, which is a scary world indeed - Just ask her sister who has been in the store twice and suffered emotional breakdowns both times the big fluff pipe has been stuck into her shell of an animal and cranked up loudly to bulk it up. Happily, it was a pleasant experience for El, and she came away with a be-spectacled girl monkey. She even kissed the little red heart before we stuck it in and had it sewed up.

So, like I said, so far, so good...