Whispers and Shouts

My Little Builders and My Inner Builder

2012-02-28T09:33:00.002-05:00

Things I was into when was little:

building forts and treehouses in the woods
playing Barbies
play-food restaurant entrepreneur-ing
recording hours and hours of a fake music radiostation
playing dress-up
riding bikes
listening to baseball on the radio
playing catch
building with Lego blocks

The touring group

Notice that two of those includingbuilding things. Somehow I have lived here in the DC Metro area for nearly tenyears and only heard of the National Building Museum a couple weeks ago when Iread a blog post about it. I put it on my list of places to take the boys soon.Then at the NOVA Live event I went to last week I met Bryana, who wrote theblog about the building museum that I read. She writes about her local trips with her daughter Chloe on her blog, Adventures with Little Bear. We teamed up and took the trip together.

The boys and I did the bus to the metro like usual, but this time we went with the boys’buddy Andrew and he thoughtfully brought his mom Angela along. All three moms and four kidsmet yesterday morning in the sunny city streets in between metro stops and walked tothe museum. I loved meeting Bryana’s delightful little Chloe Bear who loves tohug.

Dumbfounded at the fountain

The kids are still free—all kids 2 and under are free— and adults are $8 to seethe whole museum. It will be great to one day be able to read placards inmuseums, but for now I know that is not in the stars for me, and I’m okay withthat. I just want the kids to have fun and learn a few things on our museumtrips.

The atrium of the building is staggeringly huge and beautiful. There’s abig water fountain that captivated all the kids while they had some snacks.The museum staff admit people into the Building Zone—a big room of themed toys and costumesfor kids—every hour and you have to reserve a time. It is free when you buy aregular admission pass, or $3 for just the pass. (Kids under 2 are free heretoo.)

We snacked by the fountain, reserved a time to enter the Building Zone, and spent sometime in the Lego exhibit.

The White House in white Legos

There are Lego replicas of famous buildings in thefirst part of the exhibit— among them the Empire State Building and Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water— but to me the part that stood outwas the back half that was simply low tables with little stools and built-intrays for thousands of Legos. 12 year-old Me would have been in heaven. It mustbe this same obsessive trait that shows itself around gingerbread housebuilding season—it makes me want to do everything in miniature and arrange everything preciselythe way I want them. And no one should get in my way.

You got that right.

There’s also a big flat mat about a foot and a half offthe floor, divided in two, with streets painted on it, all ready for aminiature town. If someone had installed a toilet and served me regular meals,I could have lived in this room for several years of my life. We spent maybe 20minutes in the exhibit, with the kids sporadically building and running theirhands through all the blocks.

After that we did a potty stop and then spentaround an hour in the Building Zone. This place is awesome. All different kindsof blocks, a book corner, costumes, a doll house, train table, trucks, and aplayhouse. One wall of the playhouse is see-through, so kids can see what theinside of a wall looks like. You can see the wires and insulation.

When we were at the museum we saw several groups of school kids and other groups, but in general theplace was quiet and nearly empty. We had free reign of the Lego table untilright before we left when a dad and soncame in, and in the Building Zone there were only a couple other kids andparents. I look forward to visiting all the other exhibits some day, but fornow the Lego room and Building Zone are perfect for the boys. Everyone washungry, so we walked in the beautifully springy afternoon several blocks down F street to Ollie’s Trolley. The boysand I love Ollie's Trolley, but the other moms had never been there. We were sad to see thatit is closed for renovations until at least March 1^st, so we wentnext door to Harry’s for lunch.

Overall, I give the NationalBuilding Museum 5 out of 5 Shouts and 5 out of 5 Whispers. I'm trying to figure out how I can sneak away to the Lego exhibit without children and spend hours of uninterrupted bliss with my inner builder.

To read about our other local field trips to museums in the area, go here.

They boys were "building bunk beds for little people!"

So many possibilities!

Andrew and Angela outline their building.

Building Zone!

Chloe shows Bryana how to build a dollhouse.

Clark makes the Building Zone a destruction zone.

Wall inside the playhouse

Through rain, sleet, and hail...

Chloe the master mechanic

Cal trades his glasses in for a more stylish pair.

forging the Lego rapids

Harry's- not as cool as Ollie's Trolley, but they did have balloons...

The Baseball Crowd

2012-02-27T07:37:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day. We spent some quality familytime at the playground basking in the sun. There are tight pink buds on themagnolia tree that surrounds our balcony. Bunny and Easter egg paraphernalia isabundant. This can only mean one thing—baseball is near.

I have spent an enormous amount of my life in baseball: as a fan of my college andprofessional teams growing up— mostly through the scratchy radio my dad had onin the garage, a big fan of my brothers’ and sister’s teams— I was a fixture inthe spring and summer stands, and plenty of time in cleats in the dirt andgrass myself. There is and always will be something magical about baseball tome, and I hope we can instill a love a love of the game in our boys.

We're teaching the boys to love the game!

There is something special about sharing baseball withfriends. I have only a couple baseball friends, among them my dad, siblings,and a couple former college professors. They are the ones I hear from whenthere’s a big trade or an amazing game (Game 6 World Series last fall!) or whensomething reminds them of a certain baseball moment we witnessed as children.

Thisweekend, one of the friends I shared a lot of growing-up baseball moments with sentme a link to the spring training schedule from right where she now lives inArizona. With that one little link she sent me so many memories—crying togetherin her room after our Mariners were eliminated from the postseason in ’95, longroad trips to Seattle, and countless hours arranging and trading baseballcards.

About six years ago I met another girl baseball fan who also rememberswhere she was during the last game of most of the World Series,’ what it islike to live and die with a favorite team, and feels the urge to go throw a ball around on those first spring days.

In honor of this first week of spring training, and of my baseball friends, I’d like to share this poem by one of my favorite poets, William Carlos Williams, about being a spectator of baseball.

The Crowd at the Ball Game

It's fun to see how much Clark loves baseball.

The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly

by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—

all the excited detail
of the chase

and the escape, the error
the flash of genius—

all to no end save beauty

the stretch, and the pitch...

the eternal—

so in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful

for this
to be warned against

saluted and defied—
It is alive, venomous

it smiles grimly
its words cut—

The flashy female with her
mother, gets it—

The Jew gets it straight- it
is deadly, terrifying—

baseball brother love

It is the Inquisition, the
Revolution

It is beauty itself
that lives

Day by day in them
idly—

This is
the power of their faces

It is summer, it is solstice
the crowd is

cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail

permanently, seriously
without thought

-William Carlos Williams

Me, circa 1990, getting ready for a big t-ball game

"I see great things in baseball." -Walt Whitman

I Bled You!

2012-02-24T08:40:00.001-05:00

It happens rather often these days. One of the boys willturn to me in public and proudly proclaim, “I bled you, Mommy!” Before youreport me for teaching my kids the pre-scientific practice of allowing giantworms to suck on people to maintain the proper balance of the all-important bodilyhumors, hear me out.

Brian plays many different games with the boys, and theyname the games together. Sometimes the names are real words, like the game Fast Bear, where they have to hold on tohis shirt for dear life as he lumbers around the house on all fours, and thegame Hi Buddy, which involvesheadfirst diving over Brian’s head off the couch. Some games just havenonsense words or sounds as the name. The one that has been the most popularfor the past few months is called Bleh.In its purest form, Bleh is jumping out from a hiding place and scaring people.It used to just be done at home, while one boy or Dad walked down the hall towardthe living room, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that the other two arehiding in wait behind the couch or the chair or the curtains to scare him. Theythen jump out with both hands open by their head and yell, BLEH! I'm sure you play this with kids and played it when you were little too. Totally normal.

The game has no boundaries now. Every place is the hallway, every structure is a couch or a chair or a curtain to hide behind, and every person is a subject willing to be scared for sport. After the blehing, the bleher will usually tell the blehed that “I blehed you! I did!” As if there is a question about whether or not a little mini person just jumped out of hiding and scared you. This is not easy to explain to someone in public, so I just make the bleh face back, with my hands by my head and bleh the boy who just blehed me, in hopes that the observers will see that he only means that he scared me, not that he’s into bloodletting.

Clark illustrates the classic bleh pose.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-02-23T13:51:00.001-05:00

The bond between Boy and Popsicle is strong indeed.

Thesicle: A little or subordinate thesis; a proposition

How the Swagger Bag Pushed Me Off the Wagon

2012-02-22T08:33:00.000-05:00

I haven’t been eating wheat for a few weeks and I’ve beenenjoying it—especially the facts that I’ve lost some weight and feel better ingeneral. Last night I went to cool bloggy networking and charity event that I am fortunateto have been invited to. It was held at a women’s consignment store containingmore shoes than I’ve ever seen in a second hand store. There were a bunch ofgreat giveaways (I won a free family photo session!) and representatives fromlocal magazines and a vineyard and AT&T were all there to rub shoulderswith some of us local mom bloggers and other local parenting website owners andreps as we were rubbing shoulders with each other. (This sounds much morespa-like than it was.)

I knew there would be desserts and that they would most likely have wheat in them, but I had decided I’d let myself cheat a little.I had a nibble of an adorable mini chocolate muffin and immediately felt guilty,so I didn’t eat the rest of it. I had a great time and met some people I know I’llbe in touch with for a long time. Micaela and Andrea (a.k.a. SuperNovaMommy andReal Housewives of Northern Virginia) did an amazing job coordinating theevent. I was proud that I was leaving without having eaten more than one wheat-ynibble. I took my innocent-looking swagger bag that the early-registered guestsgot to take home and swaggered out the door with my friend Nikki.

Then I got home. In the bag there were, among many other surprises, a couple cookies from local bakeries. I helped Brian get the boys in bed and sat down at my computer. A bag of some of the cute little cookies was right within eyesight. I think they may have even moved themselves, because I don’t remember putting them there. I’d already decided I could cheat tonight, right? And I hardly did, right? ALSO! It was Fat Tuesday! I needed no more convincing. There were five little cookies in the bag. I opened it and enjoyed one. It was done extremely quickly and before I knew what I was doing, I had eaten all five delicious white bombs. There. I said it. I ate them all and loved it. And it’s all the swagger bag’s fault.

My favorite cookie of the night-- and one I did not devour (yet)

A Playseum Trip and Passes Giveaway!

2012-02-20T21:29:00.003-05:00

Last week my brother called me from 8^th street inDC. He was on his bike and had passed a new children’s museum so he called tosee if I wanted to bring the boys in to check it out. Who doesn’t love abrother who calls out of breath to tell you about a museum? This girl does. Imade plans to go into the city with the boys on Tuesday and meet up with him atthe Playseum. I had seen the name on local websites but I had never read or heardanything about it. Two days later, SuperNovaMommy offered me eight free passesto the Playseum! Four for us, four for a giveaway. What good luck and perfecttiming!

I loaded up the boys onto the bus and metro and we headed into the city.It started off well. Just when I thought we had missed the bus, it showed up acouple minutes late and Clark boldly stepped on. “Hi! My name’s Tlart!” He saidto the bus driver. “He said Clark,” Cal explained to the driver as he steppedonto the bus with me. Calvin the translator. At the metro we hopped on the front car again, by the driver, and this timeboth boys enjoyed watching the tracks and blue lights as we drove along thehighway and then underground.

Clark finds the Very Hungry Caterpillar in the pet shop!

The Playseum is right by the Eastern Market metrostation and the place was a big hit with the boys from the start because thereare two ceiling fans in the entryway. It was simple to get the stroller andcoats put away and to hear about how the place is arranged because they juststared at the fans. Admission for people who don’t have awesome free passes is$6. Infants are free. The Playseum is a children’s used book store witheighteen different themed rooms. The books are arranged by topic or theme, eachtopic has a room, and in each room are toys and activities centered around thetopic. Very cool idea. They call the collection of rooms their CityShops. Thefirst shop we visited was the pet store, where the boys got to touch somebunnies and Clark even held the lizard! They were delighted to find a copy ofThe Very Hungry Caterpillar among the critters, and we read it. The boys paintedceramic tiles in the art studio and learned the word sequin. I’m thinking I’lluse the tiles on a breakfast tray I’ve been meaning to decorate with mosaicglass tiles. In the art shop, kids can buy any number of things to paint or decorateand make different crafts—and 50% of the proceeds go to help an Ethiopianvillage get clean drinking water. There’s even an Ethiopian hut included in theart shop.

The list of cool shops goes on: there is a bakery where kids candecorate cupcakes, a salon for kids to get their nails painted, a pizza shopwith fixin’s for felt pizzas, a coffee shop, a room set up like a cruise ship,a restaurant, a grocery store, a farm, a sports room, and a couple more. They have some local DC elements, like a little Chinatown and cherry blossom information and murals of the Jefferson Memorial and metro map. Myboys’ favorite spot was a mini stage in a room with costumes and toys andbooks. They think they’re rockstars, so the feeling they got on the stage onlyadded to that belief. I got some curious looks from other moms because they keptsinging Jimmy Buffet songs, (they're obsessed) chanting “Salt! Salt! Salt!” and pointing to the imaginarybrown-eyed girls in the imaginary audience. The even recruited another littleboy to join their boy band for a song or two. We spent at least half an hour there. I had to wrench the guitar fromCal’s hand so we could continue on.

After our successful Playseum visit, wewent just a few doors down to a famous DC hot dog shop, DC-3, We met my friend Becky, who works nearby at the Folger Shakespeare Library, for a hot dog,fries, and a good viewing of the ceiling fan-ish propeller from a DC-3 (airplane)on the wall. What an amazing place! The hot dogs look like works of art and ours were delicious. (Plus, you can add bacon onto any hot dog for fifty cents. Shizam!)

The only change I will make next time we make the trip is to allowmore time for our visit and bring some friends. My boys could play for hours atthe Playseum, especially with their friends. You could keep the trip lessexpensive by packing your own lunch, since there is a room where eating isallowed.

And now…I’m excited to be able to host a giveaway for fourfree passes to the Playseum, thanks to SuperNovaMommy! The giveaway begins nowand will end Friday evening. To enter, simply respond here with your name and Iwill do a drawing at the end of the week and contact the winner. It would alsobe cool if you became a Whispers & Shouts follower, either through Blogger,or the new NetworkedBlogs option, or simply “like” the Whispers & Shouts Facebookpage. I’m excited about my growing number of awesome readers!

My two thumbs are up for the Playseum and we will definitelybe back. Local parents, get your kids there! They will love it.

Also: Check out my trips to other local spots here.

Clark holds a lizard in the pet shop!

The clown and the artist

Cal paints his tile.

You're my-eye...brown-eyed girl!

Uncle A and Clark work the counter at the pizza shop.

There's a little putting green by this Jefferson Memorial mural

The market

Clark rings up the...wine? And Cal is not in the cart...trick photography

Cal wouldn't be beaten; when I took away the guitar he strummed the block.

Pink Cowboy Cal

Reading some farm books in the farm room with Uncle A

Soap Giveaway Winner!

2012-02-17T20:48:00.000-05:00

I almost forgot to pick a winner for the soap giveaway today. My plan was to have one of the boys draw the name. Fortunately I remembered before Clark fell asleep...

He thought it was weird, but he picked a folded piece of paper from my hand...And the winner is...Laura who is Beltway Bargain Mom. Congrats! She will be receiving a package of happy from Spunky Suds forthwith!

Why am I Writing About This Woman?

2012-02-17T09:11:00.001-05:00

Sometimes a certain librarian at a certain library makes mewant to slap her in the face. Is that bad? Maybe. I want to go on record assaying that aside from this librarian and my storytime encounters, I absolutelylove our library and its proximity to us. I even like the quirkiness of some of its patrons that comes as a result of the library being next to a homeless shelter.

The first time I had a run-in with this woman was when theboys were 13 months old. How do I remember that age? Oh, that’s because storytime at the library requires babies to be 13 months old before they can come tothe infant-2 years storytime. They also have ONLINE REGISTRATION for storytime? What the f$&%? I know. So fascist. I touched on the story and how my library visits have changed here, buthere’s the storytime incident: I pushed them in their double umbrella stroller to the room where storytime was held. At the door I was told I could not take the strollerin. Okay. I wonder how I will contain mycrawlers? I asked if she could make an exception since I had two. No. Okay, well, I’ll try. All the parents wereperfectly arranged in a half circle, sitting cross-legged with their one childon their laps, with the exception of a dad whose son was standing over in thecorner, not in anyone’s way, just walking around quietly. Note: there wasplenty of room for my stroller to be over in the corner by the boy walkingaround.

Putting both boys on my lap lasted about all of 30 secondsbefore one started sprint-crawling across the room. Yes, I got a glare fromsaid librarian. I bet you didn’t know fascists wear duck puppets; I’m here totell you that they do. Soon the fascist spoke to the father in the corner withhis kid. “It would be best if everyone was sitting over here.” Seriously. Aftersome more glares and awkward, disciplinary pauses from her, I decided to take theboys out and put them in the stroller. So I did. Then I put the stroller in thedoorway so we weren’t in the room but the boys could see the story. By the way,they were interested in listening and watching once they were contained. “Itwould be best if there were no strollers,” the fascists passively-aggressivelytold me in front of everyone. I blurted something along the lines of, “Are youkidding me?” and I took the stroller and left. I had every intention of writinga letter to the library over this behavior, but I never got around to it. Agood thing that came from it was that I met my friend Susan at the playground afew weeks after the incident. The icebreaker: “Aren’t you the one who waskicked out of storytime? That was ridiculous.” We’ve been friends ever since.

Over a year later I decided to give it another shot. We wentwith some friends. For some reason Calvin freaked out when we got to thelibrary and didn’t want to go to storytime. Perhaps he remembered the fascistdictator that ruled last time. But, stories hadn’t started yet so Itried to calm him down by the door. He let me take him in and was beginning tosettle down. Let me reiterate, stories had not started and the librarian wasnot even trying to start reading when she looked at me and said gruffly, “Hecan’t stay in here like that.” I left with both boys.

We went to the kids’ room in the library and read booksourselves. Interestingly, one by one, other moms came out of storytime andinto the children’s section after, I can only assume, beingpassively-aggressively kicked out. Needless to say, we have not tried another librarystorytime and have no plans to. However, we do go to the library often to getbooks and read books and to look at the mural on the wall with the lion thatgot his foot hurt and the mouse that is helping take the thorn out. The boysare obsessed with that part of the mural, and the Hansel and Gretel candy house.

The other day my friend the fascist was the librarian in thechildren’s section and I asked her where the educational Dr. Seuss books arelocated. “Hmm. What do you mean?” Really?I explained to her that the series is from the Cat in the Hat PBS cartoon andthey’re on different subjects like space and desserts. Blank look. “I don’tknow. Maybe they would be over here in content sorted books…or beginningreading?” I’d like to add that any mom I’ve mentioned these books to knowsabout this series, and some own them. She then found the series on the computer,with much mumbling, and put them on hold for me. Next I asked her about booksabout cars or transportation in general that she might recommend for kids my kids’age. “Hmm, none come to mind…” What. Isn’tevery boy (besides mine) obsessed with cars and trucks? And don’t children’sbook authors know that and write about them? Don’t librarians know a lot aboutbooks? I was trying to get my boys psyched up to see the transportation exhibitat the American History Museum. Fortunately, another librarian was beginningher shift at that time and had some great suggestions for me. How delightfullyand refreshingly librarian of her.

I’m a little annoyed at myself for dedicating even this muchof my time to writing about that librarian, and I want to love our local children’s librarian, as a concept. Anyone knowa good children’s librarian looking to relocate?

Our librarian would probably not approve of sleeping with books. Too bad.

The Spunky Suds soap giveaway ends in a few hours! Put your name in the hat.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-02-16T11:21:00.000-05:00

Two capes are better than one.

[Thesicle: A little or subordinate thesis; a proposition]

On the Loss of My Wheat Tooth

2012-02-15T12:28:00.000-05:00

It's been over two weeks since I stopped eating wheat. (Read about why I gave it up here.) Two weeks was my planned trial period and it wasn't nearly as hard as I thought. The hardest day was the first day. Ever since then, it hasn't been bad. A few nights ago it was a little difficult to ignore the fresh sourdough bread in front of my plate at the restaurant, but I did it. Planning for and preparing meals has taken a little longer because I had gotten in ruts of easy things like pasta and bread and crackers for the boys. I haven't taken the boys off wheat and Brian isn't off wheat, but I'm trying to have less and less around, and more and more vegetables and fruit.

I found a recipe for muffins with whole wheat flour and oat bran and I substituted rice flour for the wheat flour. They also had carrots, raisins, yogurt, and banana in them. The boys loved them, so that was a victory. (However, Cal still only eats muffin tops, not the whole muffin. So Seinfeldian/Jenna Maroney-ish) But I was amazed at how heavy I felt after eating just one muffin, after I had been off wheat for a week.

Yesterday I purposefully stepped off the wagon, because I had met my goal of two weeks and allowed myself two small treats. One was because my inner scavenger took over after the boys refused their flat raisin bagel halves. Then later at Valentine's dinner I had a bite of the cheesy bread while we waited for our food. I definitely felt heavier in the morning after the morning cheat, but didn't really after the single bite last evening. I found my cheats rather disappointing, actually. I guess I'm losing my wheat tooth.

The changes I've noticed have been:
1) I feel....lighter, less full but in a good way-- which I'd say is a good reason to continue
2) I don't feel hungry as much, I think just because my body is used to eating less now
3) I have lost 7 pounds-- also a good reason to continue
4) I find myself craving things like grapes and carrot sticks instead of bread or crackers

I'm also still running, which is a big 'ole streak for me. I even still like it! So overall I'm feeling healthier than I have for awhile, and inspired to keep it up. My wheat-free two weeks are over, but I'm going to keep going.

P.S. If you haven't already, enter the soap giveaway I'm doing this week. Read about it below.

P.P.S. Consider donating to the walk for epilepsy I'm doing next month, or walking with me.

Less bread, more rice cakes with peanut butter

Smells Like Happy: A Spunky Suds Giveaway

2012-02-13T08:08:00.001-05:00

I’ve never done a giveaway here, but I’m doing one today!

There’s this super cool girl I grew up down the road from in Idaho who hand-makes her own soaps-- and I don’t mean the daytime dramas that unfortunately comeon when I’m trying to turn on Sid the Science Kid for the boys. She has five kids she home schools, and is in general a supermom. She (more specifically Spunky Suds) becamea Whispers & Shouts sponsor and sent me a package of her handmade soaps. AsI opened the box and the scents began to waft around my kitchen, I felt alittle like royalty or mostly just like the boy noises faded and I was having aparty in my nose. She sent some mini bars and a couple bigger bars and a tub ofbody butter. (And I can get behind anything that has the wordbutter in it.) So I’ve been washing and buttering a lot and thinking of what to do for the giveaway. I thought getting the boys involved would be fun, so I hadthem inspect the soaps and get their opinions on them. I let the boys describe them in their ownspecial ways. After the "buildings" from their freestyle soap-block building toppled down, they hadthese things to say about the soaps:

Dark red soap: “Smells like chocolate ice cream.” –Clark “Lookslike a cow.”- Cal

White soap: “Smells like a cow.”- Cal (I’d like to throw inhere that Cal doesn’t know what a cow smells like.) "Smells like mango juice." --Clark

Green soap: “Smells like a light.” –Clark “Looks like aguitar.” – Cal, while strumming the soap

Red and white soap: “Smells like a candy cane.”—Cal “Smellslike a hot dog.” – Clark

Brown soap: “Looks like Papa’s mustache.” – Clark (wearingthe soap on his lip)

Green and blue soap: “Smells like a cucumber.” – Cal “Smellslike happy.” – Clark

Purple soap: “Smells like Mommy smells,”—Cal (Aww, so sweet.I definitely rarely smell that good)

Big oatmeal-y soap: “Looks like a big horse.” –Clark “Lookslike a drum.” –Cal, while drumming on it

So, I’ve been washing with the soaps a lot lately and I’ve noticed my hands don’t seem as painfully dry as they had been, and also I smell a lot nicer.Less of the I-just-poured-apple-juice smell and the lovely Essence of Desitin. These soaps would make amazing gifts,too. As a matter of fact, if you get a gift of soap from me soon, you will knowwhere I got it-- and I don't mean that I will give you one that I've already sampled.

Enough daytime drama. Here’s what you need to do to enterthe giveaway, after you read about Ashley and her Spunky Suds soap so you can see the loveliness of what you'll be winning.

1. "Like" the Whispers & Shouts Facebook page if you haven’talready. (you could just click “like” on the Facebook box here on the actual blog.)

2. Then leave acomment here using the world “soap” or any kind of made-up form of the word “soap." (example: soaptacular) I'm not even going to be all English teacher on you and make you use complete sentences. Fragments are fine. (It hurt me to type that)

We’ll see what we get. I'll probably have one of the boys randomly draw a winner, or if one comment stands out as the funniest to me by far, I'll pick that one.

The winner will get two full bars of my favorite two soaps, (I decided that the "smells like happy" and "looks like a cow" are my favorites.) as well as mini sample bars like what I got in my package. The deadline is this Friday the 17th at a random time that only I will decide. (Hint: either naptime or bedtime) Ready, set, go.

My Spunky Suds package

Practicing figurative language with soap. (Clark only put one bar in his mouth.)

Angry Birds vs. Angry Clark

2012-02-12T15:18:00.003-05:00

Clark is acting like a teenage girl lately. For one thing,he’s obsessing over his hair. If it ever gets any hint of static or he imaginesthat there is static, he starts wailing about wanting water on it. If his pantsare pulled up too high, he freaks out. He doesn’t like his food to touch on hisplate. Everything surrounding him is of dramatic importance.

To best illustrate the drama surrounding Clark’s difficultand stressful life, I’ll use an incident from the other day:

1. Clark hurts his finger and cries.

2. I tell him that Daddy bought Angry Birds (a new obsession) band-aids for them!

3. I put on said band-aid.

4. Clark is happy.

5. Two seconds later, Clark starts crying becausethe yellow bird is covered up and he couldn’t see it and that is his favoritebird.

6. I calm him down by showing him how cool theother birds are.

7. We leave the house and start down the stairs.

8. Clark begins screaming hysterically becauseholding the rail on the normal side he walks down feels weird because of hisband-aid on his finger.

9. I show him he can use the other rail with theother hand and it doesn’t feel weird.

10. Clark sits down on the top steps, yelling, “no!no!” with tears pouring down his face.

11. I go to pick him up and carry him down and heshrieks even more, slapping at me.

12. I go down the stairs with Cal and leave him tohis tears.

13. He eventually comes down and is happy.

14. We go for our walk.

15. We stop at a restaurant for lunch.

16. As soon as he gets his food he starts wailingabout how he can’t eat with his band-aid on. “Get it off! Get it off!”

17. People stare.

18. I take the band-aid off and put it on his coat,which is on the back of his chair.

19. He smiles at it and starts eating.

20. He notices that from where he is sitting and eating,he cannot see his band-aid-turned-sticker.

21. He again starts wailing about it.

22. I tell him he’s being ridiculous and I throw itaway.

23. More screams and more stares but he eventuallycalms down.

24. He finishes his chocolate milk and starts cryingthat it’s gone.

25. We leave.

I guess he’s just going through a phase, but it’s one thatmakes me want to routinely bang my head against a wall. He also threatens us.He threatens to spank us or yell at us or bang something really hard! on the floor or table or something. I guess he's revisiting this phase from last year. Fortunately Calhas been milder in general these days. He prefers to engage in silent mindgames by refusing to apologize or admit what he did was wrong even though itmeans staying in his bed.

So I’m sure this makes you want to go out and have kids,right? Specifically twins? The amazing thing to me is how quickly they can gofrom having an epic meltdown to being charming again. I guess that’s how theysurvive in our house. Cuteness and sweetness outweigh screaming fits ofunbridled and irrational rage.

I’m so glad they won’t one day be teenage girls. Then the drama would be over things like boys and shoes and purses and tampons and things. I'm way better with band-aids and chocolate milk.

Can't imagine him angry? Come visit in a few minutes.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-02-09T16:40:00.000-05:00

The hyena sings at midnight.

Thesicle: A little or subordinate thesis; a propostion

Local Love and a Toy Round-up

2012-02-08T16:07:00.000-05:00

Happy Wednesday, my peeps. I'm happy to have made some recent bloggy friends lately and I'm excited about getting to meet some of them in person soon. Among them is Supernovamommy, whose site I wrote an article for about a month ago and Laura at BeltwayBargains. Another helpful site I've been in contact with is KidFriendlyDC. I'm also getting some dude mom love from this amazing woman at Parenting by Dummies and her other sites. It's so cool to see my network around the DC metro area grow and grow! All these awesome people and sites, and many of them close to me. It's great to share stories and advice and events.

Another bloggalicious mommy I met a long time ago and finally met in the honest-to-goodness flesh and bones is Nikki (and her adorable Molly). I wrote a guest post for her awhile ago, and she's sharing one for Whispers & Shouts today. She and I have a couple things in common, among them is the small spaces we call our homes. Read on...

Hi there! I'm Nikki from SuperNoVa Mom! I also freelance over at Pure Matters. First of all, I want to thank Dawn for having me. We met through blogging, but soon realized that we were neighbors! Our kiddos like to get together and play which is also fun for me because Dawn makes me laugh. Who doesn't like laughing?

Dawn also knows what it's like to live in small quarters. I, too, live in a two bedroom, two bathroom condo.I struggle with living in a small place with little storage. It's a challenge to find a place to put all your food (no pantry) and linens (no linen closet) and golf clubs (no garage) and maternity clothes (can barely fit my non-maternity clothes!). Who am I kidding? My maternity clothes are in my mom's garage. Yes, I have to keep things at my mom's and I'm almost 30! Now, I know what you're thinking... why do you need so much stuff? I don't need a lot of stuff, I just really have no storage.You can only imagine how claustrophobic our place became once we had a baby. Babies = lots of stuff. Then the baby got bigger and her toys got bigger and started taking over the entire condo. Things got so bad that I felt as though I was living in the Fisher Price section of Toys R Us. I began feeling very overwhelmed.Time for Project Molly's Room.

Now that Molly is 15 months old, my husband and I felt like we could turn her room from a nursery into a big girl room. We moved all her toys into her room and rearranged some furniture. I also took some time to reorganize her closets... mostly filled with baby stuff she no longer uses. I had no idea how much happier it would make me! I can literally sit at my desk and look to my right to see her playing in her little play area. My living room is finally toy free!I think I can put up with living in a small condo for a little bit longer. Emphasis on little. :)

I hope y'all will visit me over at SuperNoVa Mom sometime soon.

Contains No Fake Children

2012-02-07T11:05:00.001-05:00

Children’s museums: you might be surprised tohear that they are not in fact exhibits of various wax children or childrenpreserved via the art of taxidermy. It’s not that I actively thought that wasthe case, but I’d never been to one before this weekend, so I wasn’t entirely sure.

Think for a moment aboutthe names of museums, and suspend the possessive nature of "children's" with me for a moment: American history, Air and Space, Science, Art…yadda,yadda. Those museums are not museums forScience to grow a body and visit. Theyare not for Art or for Air and Space to walk around in and beentertained by, to buy trinkets to take home to their grandkids. History itself will not pay $20 for a museumshop sub-par sandwich. No. History and art and scientific specimens are ondisplay, they are not the target audience. Therefore, the children’s museum isa semantic anomaly of the museum world (pesky little possessive aside). There are no display cases of rare childrenfrom around the world or rosters and pictures of playdates past. No taxidermydisplays with dramatically manipulated children with titles like Bullied on the Playground or Endless Hide n’ Seek. Quite thecontrary, I found out this weekend.

Cool Uncle P

We took a trip to see my aunt and uncle in Richmond. They are the world's coolest great aunt and uncle. Uncle Pierre tuned the boys guitars, restrung Clark's so he can play left-handed, and showed Brian how to restring them. They also let the boys play with their old organ, their dog Blackberry, and all three of their ceiling fans! Itjust so happens that they live down the street from the Richmond Children’sMuseum. Our museum visit started off a little rough, with Cal shrieking and stiffeningat the life-size cow (that you could "milk" and water came out) and baby dinosaurs, but soon both boys were digging insynthetic sand (it looked like recycled tires or something) to find dinosaur fossils—even fighting off the big bully whotried to take away Clark’s shovel. Their favorite part was a big structurepainted to look like an apple tree. On the outside there were holes where redballs that looked like apples sat. Kids picked the apples and put them inbaskets. Once the baskets were full, they went inside the tree and dumped theminto a machine that looks like a cider press. It sucked the balls up to the topof the tree in a see-through tube, and then dispersed them into a bunch ofsee-through tubes that fed each individual apple hole on the outside. Clever,and the kids loved it. It was interesting to see that the kids weren’t gigglingas they did it; they were for the most part very serious, being helpful, being important,doing a job. But you could tell they loved it. And my boys are the same way athome. They love to do jobs, things that help me, even though in reality theymake it much slower for me to get anything done. So, with this exceedingly scientificobservation that I made at the apple tree in mind, I will continue to make mychildren do chores around the house so that one day I will do nothing but sip freshly-squeezedlemonade while getting foot massages and watching baseball, as my kids do thedishes and vacuum and cook and such. But I’m getting off track here.

Apple pickin'

Not your ordinary apple orchard

I was blow away by the portion of the museum dedicated toart. There was no one running it, or overseeing it or checking people in oranything predictable and typical like that. Kids and their parents can come in,pick from a huge selection of mediums and supplies, put on a smock (oldmechanic and pizza shop shirts with names on them) and let their imaginationsrun wild. Talk about a crafty person’s heaven. And it was so environmentallyfriendly! Aside from the staples like paper, glue, markers, paint, pencils, andthe always-helpful pipe cleaners, paper plates, and paper bags, most everythingelse for crafts was reused. There were cardboard toilet paper rolls, empty eggcartons, scraps of fabric, plastic food containers, and tons more. On a shelfwere sample craft projects to get ideas for what to make. One was a paper bagpuppet, and we made some puppets ourselves. The boys also had great funpainting with watercolors until their papers were saturated. I could spendhours in there, because I have a tendency to obsess over projects like that. Therewere doors from the art room that led outside to a place that looked like fun,but it was cold out and we had a lot to see still!

Watercolorin'

We played at a water table,after which the boys changed their soaked shirts, a puzzle table, and a bigvacuum maze thing on a wall that the kids put balls and thin handkerchiefs inand watched them fly out at different speeds. There was a life-size cave withpuppet critters and stalagmites and stalactites. The play town was amazing. Ithad, all in miniature: a café, a bank, a grocery store, a hospital, a TV news studio,a car repair shop, and a school. Again, no real supervision, as the kids werefree to go around and play with everything. The store had real cash registers,little shopping carts, shelves for food (though most of it was on the floorafter having been loved), play money, and some busy little shoppers. The café hada pretend espresso machine and a counter and tables outside with umbrellas.Another thing they did that was super cool was that instead of buying theridiculously expensive Melissa and Doug-ish type play food, they used emptyboxes and containers from real food, wrapped in packing tape. Brilliant! (I found an Idaho Spuds box!) Theydid have play fruit and veggies, but for the most part the store was stockedwith reused food boxes. In the car repair shop, kids could change the tires,slide under the car on a little wheely-thing like real mechanics do, honk thehorn, replace the cloth muffler, look at the engine parts and pour pretendwasher fluid and antifreeze (again, just in empty plastic bottles with labelson them) into the reservoirs. In the TV station kids could go in front of thecamera at a news desk and be seen on a TV outside the station. The hospital hadan ambulance out front that the kids could climb into and “drive.” There was alot of cool-looking stuff in the big hospital room, but we weren’t in therevery long. The boys weren’t that interested, and I thought all the naked babydolls strewn about were a bit off-putting—this was the closest the museum cameto displaying wax children. The little school was adorable, with a huge abacusand lots of magnetic letters and number toys for practicing to write the numbers.

Water table!

I wonder how their shirts got wet? So fun!

There was a section with a little trampoline and manipulative shapes and tubesfor creating things to climb on and in. This is where some girls in some kindof brown vests (Brownies? Girl Scouts? I don’t know) crowded Clark out on thetrampoline until I scared them away in what was possibly my meanest mom moveever—simply a snarky comment—but they took the hint and scrammed. There werethings we didn’t even make it to, like a giant ladder and slide apparatus thatway up to a skylight and suspended paper birds, and an entire farm (more foryounger kids anyway).

We will definitely be back there. Just writing about itmakes me want to go back and it’s only been three days since we were there. Onthe first Saturday of the month, adults are free if they show their Bank ofAmerica card! Of course I didn’t have mine with me, but my aunt did so she was free. Admission is $8 for adults and $7 for children-- very reasonable rates considering all they have to offer-- especially with the take-home art projects. Now I can’twait to visit the Baltimore Children’s Museum because I’ve heard it’s great andit’s a lot closer. My hunch is that there will not be wax, or otherwise unreal children on display.

Vacuum maze on the wall

Cal driving the ambulance

Supermarket chaos

All in a day's work

Changing tires

Adding washer fluid

School!

Geniuses!

A great trip with Aunt Anne!

Whispers & Shouts First Blogiversary

2012-02-05T16:24:00.001-05:00

It's been one year since my first blog post! It was on February 5th last year and I actually wrote two posts that day, as well as outlined the reasons for starting the blog. It's been a great year and to celebrate I'm putting mustaches on my banner boys for 24 hours. Then I will return the banner to a normal, respectable blog banner. Yep. That's right. I know how to party. Thanks for continuing to read my whispers and shouts. Tell your friends! Become a follower. Be a sponsor. But mostly, just keep reading.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-02-02T12:32:00.001-05:00

It's good to have a brother when you're sick.

Thesicle (n) a little or subordinate thesis; a proposition

American History Museum, Abbreviated

2012-02-02T09:23:00.000-05:00

Our latest museum trek was on Sunday, when my mother-in-lawand I took the boys downtown to the National Museum of American History. Wedrove to the metro station and hopped on the very front of the train like lasttime. It actually makes the trip much more interesting for the boys. Clarkloves sitting up on his knees and looking at the tracks as we go, and Cal lovestalking about how he doesn’t want to look at the tracks because it scares him.Both ways, it gives the boys good material to talk about, which lasted all theway to the Federal Triangle stop, where we got off and walked into the museum.

I knew that the kids’ lab that they have at the museum is closed right now, but I remembered how cool the transportationexhibit is, and so I figured we could do that and see how much time we had leftover and what our other choices were. After the boys touched the tracks and railroad ties on the big locomotive, we went into the On theWater exhibit about maritime tales in America. For any kids who are interestedin boats, specifically ships, this would be a great place to take them. Theyhave a bunch of model ships that are beautiful. There’s a huge old whaling boatand some gigantic whale teeth, a giant steering wheel, and…wait for it…wait forit…a huge propeller that looks like a…ceiling fan! They liked it for a fewminutes, less than I thought they would, (is their obsession passing?) but they mostly wanted to play on the touch screens that were scatteredaround. That used to bother me, but after the flea display trip, I’m used tothem obsessing over things that aren’t cool and ignoring the truly cool things. Hugewhale teeth right in my face? Intricate model ships with to-scale crews andpassengers? A life-size engine room? Nah. Touch screen with world map. Touchagain. Push brother who also wants to touch screen. Yell. Push. Touch again.Exit exhibit.

Ship? Eh.

Touch screen that ruled the day

Ceiling fan-ish boat propeller!

We tried to give them a snack on a bench just outside the On theWater display, but we were quickly told by staff that foodand drink are not permitted there. So we packed up and found some tablesoutside the museum café and had a snack. The tables are great and I will planto bring a lunch next time we come, so we can just stay in the museum to eat. Then,with full force, recharged by juice and crackers, we hit America on the Move, the transportation exhibit that is set up in chronological order. I was just asimpressed with it as I had been in the past. The boys liked it,but I think other boys who are more car-inclined than mine might like it more. Myboys have never been as enthusiastic about cars and trains as some boys I know.They did enjoy it though, and there are little interactive pieces all over.Next to a huge freight train that you can touch, there are boxes that open like refrigerators so youcan see the variety of freight that got shipped by such a train. The life-sizemodel people scattered around the exhibit I think add a lot to it. In some casesit’s kind of creepy, like when you peek in the side of an old trailer and are startled to see amom and daughter making dinner, but for the most part, it adds to theexperience by setting scenes. So we spent around an hour in America On The Moveand when we’d had enough (aka Calvin was freaked out by the old Chicago L carthat shakes when you get on it) we changed diapers and headed out onto thestreet, past the men playing their buckets, to find lunch.

Cal petting model girl

The fruit displays are awesome.

Images from old Washington DC

Old DC streetcar

Freight-boy interaction

The boys called this a basketball floor and shot imaginary baskets.

Watching I Love Lucy on a turquoise TV!

I wanted to go somewhere different than last time,not because we didn’t like Ollie’s Trolley when we were there a couple weeksago, we loved it, but just to try something new. The boys love mac ‘n cheese so I had looked upthe best place in DC for mac ‘n cheese the night before. Capital Grille was on all thelists for the best macaroni and cheese and it’s fairly close, so we pushed them overin the stroller. Unfortunately, they are closed until dinner on Sundays, so wepushed the seven blocks back and ended up at good old Ollie’s, with its model merry-go-round that the boys can't get enough of. Uncle A metus on his bike and we had a nice little lunch, capped off with a chocolatemilkshake for the boys.

Splitting a milkshake at Ollie's

Covering one or two exhibits in one day with2-3 year-olds is about the perfect amount and the American History Museum is packed full of so many amazing things to see. If you have a kid who loves trainsor cars, you could easily just stay in the transportation exhibit the entiretime. The invention exhibit looks great and I want to get the boys back there for some more hands-on fun. I'll wait until Capital Grille is open so they can enjoy some mac 'n cheese.

Check out our other recent museum excursions here.

Wheat and Stomp Rocket-ing

2012-02-01T15:27:00.000-05:00

I've decided to not eat wheat for two weeks. I'm part of the way into the third day, and it’sactually not as hard as it seemed the first day. Why am I doing it? I'm notreally sure exactly, and there's not one reason. I've been reading things like this and this and this and about wheat asa common allergen and something that slows down your metabolism. Cutting outwheat and carbs in general is what people with extreme cases of epilepsy do totry to manage their seizures through diet. When your body is basically starved, it runs on ketones, and for some reason no one has seizures while running on ketones. That diet, however, is to be done under close observation by doctors and is close to starving yourself, which presents its own set of complications.

As far as anecdotal evidence, my mom and grandfather have alwayshad bad allergies, frequent sinus infections, and troublesome noses in general,all their lives. They both recently did a battery of allergy testing thatshowed they are both allergic to wheat—and pretty severely. Going off wheatgreatly improved the quality of life for both of them. Some of my brothers and sisters in-laws have been cutting out carbs and have had some big success with weight loss and overall health improvements.The other day I wastalking to someone who controls her migraines by cutting out wheat and someother main categories of food. So, with science and success stories, I decided to give it a go.

It’s not that I’ve felt bad and was looking for help…it’s just that I’ve been feeling…heavy inside from eating the bread thatI eat, and of course since most processed foods have wheat in them, I’m alsocutting out those, which will do nothing but good things for my health. Thelast two days I’ve felt great, and I’m very excited about it! Let’s face it, Ican stand to lose a little weight as well, and hopefully changing my eatinghabits will help with that. The last two days I’ve also been able to runoutside, which has been marvelous. It’s been around 70 degrees! The boys and Ispent some quality time in the sunshine today, using their stomp rocket. Ileave with the stomp rocket photo story. Happy Wednesday!

Getting ready to launch

Cal's turn

Your turn, Mommy!

Mommy stomps with too much gusto.

Watch me, Mom!

Clark brought his pet dog to watch the launches.

Watch, little doggy!

Cal's turn to take pictures

Clark's turn...

PS. Anyone else want to give up wheat with me?! Anyone else living without wheat? Anyone have good no-wheat recipes?

I Feel You Better

2012-01-31T12:29:00.000-05:00

The boys have been playing little games that involve healthand hygiene, and in general, "feeling you better," which is their take on the sentiment of helping someone feel better.

The multi-purpose toilet/astronaut helmet

I've been trying half-heartedly to potty train them over the pastcouple weeks, but they still have not done any of their business in the toilet and they are still terrified to sit on it. But they love to playthat they are going to the bathroom. They sit on a container we use for toysand pretend to go potty. Oddly, they use the same container upside-down as anastronaut's helmet when they play space, so that's nice. Today Clark “went potty”in the container on the couch. He waved goodbye to the potty and “flushed itaway.” He then requested that I get into the "tub," and motioned to thefloor next to the couch. As soon as I sat down, Cal ran to the bathroom to get the stool I siton when I bathe them. He put the stool up next to me and washed my hair. Clarkgave me toys he called bath toys and cleaned them up for me when I was ready toget out. Cal covered me in a pretend lizard towel (his bath towel) and thenClark covered me in a pretend duck towel (his bath towel). Clark pretended tochange my diaper while Cal rubbed pretend lotion on his hands and put it on myface. It was quite a refreshing break.

A not-so-refreshing habit that Clark has picked up isattacking boogers in noses with wipes. Now, these are typically imaginaryboogers, and the nose is mine or Brian’s or Cal’s and it hurts. He isn’tplaying when he does it. He squints his eyes and scrunches his lipstogether and focuses in on the offending nose. It’s fantastic. So fantasticthat even the stinging sensation of inhaling a wipe is worth it just fora second. I wish I had a video camera in my nose (Hmm, never said that before)to capture his intense focus. The other day he grabbed the bridge of Brian’snose with his other hand for leverage and grunted, “Almost got it,” (relieved sigh), “There we go.”

They’ve also taken to pretending to put in and take outcontacts. They first rub their hands with imaginary Purell “like Daddy does!”before they tell me to lay down so they can take my contact out. “Great job,Mommy! You held still!”

The most prevalent game is still the sick game. Often their stuffed animals and toys have inexplicable maladies that must remedied by little tiny doses of medicine with the baby spoons that they take out of the drawer by themselves or medicine droppers. They use their high little baby voices to say things like, “It’s okay, Little Ducky. You’ll be okay. I feel you better.” The injured animal always requires a kiss, medicine, or petting from Brian and me also. Lately they insist that I tell the patient, “Your mommy is coming soon.”

An entire cast of zoo critters who need medical care via medicine droppers

Today Cal is sick and Clark has been helping "feel him better" all morning. First he wanted to sing a song to him. He sang Jump Up, a Dan Zanes' favorite, only modifying a few of the lyrics, and then said he was going to make up his own song called "Farmer's Market." It was lovely-- all about a shark eating candles. (Duh! What else would a song with that title be about?) I think it actually did helped Cal feel better because he was smiling. Later, after Cal woke up from a nap, Clark propped up his guitar and played it like an upright bass and sang another song. A Jimmy Buffet song, of course. Hopefully Clark's continued nurturing care will help feel Cal better today.

National Walk For Epilepsy

2012-01-29T23:00:00.005-05:00

I signed up for the National Walk for Epilepsy again this year. Last year I walked with my brother and ended up with a lot more sponsors than I anticipated, which was cool. It was weird to see so many people in purple shirts (people with epilepsy wore purple at the walk last year) walking around, when I've only ever met a couple other people with epilepsy. So many people have it way worse than my measly average of one or two seizures a year, that I'd like to do a little bit to help fund further research and support for such a baffling condition.

As it turns out, the little bit I can do to help is to walk in a big circle on March 31st. So, if you're around and you want to walk in a two-mile circle around the National Mall with me, join my team or donate online right here. I think I'll take the boys out on the walk with me this year!

Aaron and me at last year's walk

Dolphins Don't Have Bodies

2012-01-27T11:39:00.001-05:00

Listening to the boys talk to each other in their seriousvoices almost always has me slapping my hand over my mouth to stop from laughing.Their heartfelt observations are often just as funny as their purposefully funnycomments. Sometimes we hear them talking about disciplining each other. “If you do that I will spank, you Talvin,”Clark will somberly tell Calvin, when he is about to do something undesirable. “Youwon’t,” is usually the measured response. Frequently a scuffle follows.

Since our aquarium visit last week, the boys have beentalking a lot about dolphins—to each other as well as to everyone else. Wechecked out a couple more library books about ocean life, but apparently theboys seem to understand dolphins without the books, and in the spirit of oraltradition, are passing these truths on to each other and whoever else willlisten. As it turns out, there was a lot about the dolphin world that I did notunderstand until I overheard them talking about it. I took some notes.

Dolphin Basics:

"Dolphins don't have bodies."

"They do. Trainers get inside dolphins' bodies."

"Dolphins' fins are like the sign for yellow."

"They are cute because they don't have hands."

On Our Dolphin Show Experience:

"I didn't like when the dolphin blew out his fin hole.I cried. Nick liked it."

"I don't like the dark water the dolphins got in. I didlike the bright water."

"The dolphins didn't want any milk."

"My favorite is the dolphin show and Nick's is thedolphin show and Cal's favorite is the jellyfish show."

Trainers Teach the Dolphins...

to read your face

to read words in a book

to clap

to spin in circles

to dance like a break dance

to say hi to everybody by water that is bright water

how to play a guitar

how to play football

how to play tennis

how to play drums

Clearly, dolphins are even smarter than you and I thought. Idare you to go listen to a toddler conversation and not be amused.

Clark kisses his dolphin puppet, whose name is, incidentally, Clark.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-01-26T14:42:00.001-05:00

Playing "bunk bed" in public makes people stare.

Aquarium Compare-ium

2012-01-24T17:48:00.004-05:00

Aquarium 1:

Clark the Shark at the aquarium last year

Last winter we took our boys, who were almost two at the time, to the National Aquarium in DC. There's an aquarium in DC, you ask? Yep. It's downtown in the basement of the commerce building. Sounds spooky, right? It definitely was a little spooky in the beginning. The elevator was one of those chipped bronze-colored contraptions that moves so slowly that you could have walked down stairs carrying the stroller, then gone back up for each of the kids, and then your diaper bag in less time than it took to stand face-to-face with strangers in a descending box. For the $9.95 adult admission and free children's (3 and under) admission, this aquarium visit was worth every penny. There weren't many people there, which I'm guessing had to do with the fact that it is in the basement of the commerce building, but also that January is the best time in the whole year to go museum-ing around here.

Cool alligators!

The aquarium, due to its basement-ness, has low ceilings and low lighting, but that is really where the spookiness ends. It is the perfect size aquarium for little kids. Everything is low and the tour is easy to take. I think we spent maybe an hour and a half there, maybe even less. We combined it with a visit to the mammal room at the Natural History Museum and it was a perfect morning outing for the nearly two year-olds. The kids can see some cool aquatic life without the hassle of driving to Baltimore or the overwhelming size of that aquarium . I recommend it, as long as you don't think it's going to be amazing or that you won't have to experience slow elevators. Also, the octopus is surprisingly cute.

Aquarium 2: The National Aquarium, Baltimore style was an exciting trip this January for the almost-three-year-old boys. We took them last year too, when they were almost 2, but they didn't care. At that age they cared more about the pretty blue lights and dancing bubble tubes than about the shark and rays and dolphins, which was disappointing for such a long commitment as driving to Baltimore, and the more expensive admission. ($24.95/adult, $19.95/child 3-11) This time it was much more captivating for them. Their favorite part by far was the dolphin show. Spring for this, if it is happening when you go, because it is awesome. Just don't sit in the first four rows unless you want to get wet. We left the NOVA area around 10am and didn't hit traffic. We cruised into Baltimore and parked close to the aquarium off Gay Street in a garage that allows a discount for aquarium-validated tickets. We went with the boys' BFF Nick and his mom Aimee. She prepped us all on the way up with plastic sea creatures, shark books, and fish books. Because she's awesome at baking, she also baked themed cookies for the ride home.

Aimee's cookies

At the aquarium there is a stroller check near the door and lockers for valuables. A weekday in January was a great time to go. There weren't many other visitors, which makes things so much easier with kids. In my experience, summer up there at the aquarium is very crowded. The highlights of the trip were, like I said, the dolphin show, the captivating bubble tubes, the big open tank of rays, shark, and sea turtles that you can see from all levels, the jellyfish exhibit, and the shark walk. As you walk down the coral reef display, the lights get darker and darker as you descend into shark territory. Very cool. There are also blue lights along the floor that are good for counting and touching to make your hands look blue. Along the way there are computers with touchscreens to help you identify what creatures you're looking at. Since we got a late start, we ended up taking a break for lunch and just eating at the cafe. There are restaurants close by on the waterfront that you can eat at if you're ready to leave by lunchtime. Two of the three boys took their naps on the car ride home, and we cruised home around 2:30. All in all, a great trip. (Aimee also blogged about the trip here and took better pictures.)

I recommend both aquariums, the DC one for younger kids, and the Baltimore for older ones. Just make sure you know what to expect for each, and you'll have a great trip! Read about our other recent museum-outings here: Natural History and Air and Space.

Hello, Dophins!

Moon jellyfish display

I'm bein' a ray!

Shark attack!

Hard Rock Cafe giant guitar: nearly as cool as the dolphins!

Tantrums: A Brief Index

2012-01-23T16:09:00.000-05:00

It's been close to a year since I wrote this about an inappropriate comment that an old man made to me in a coffee shop. So, I'm checking in again with some more totes inappropes comments from a stranger, and weighing in on the phenomenon of toddler tantrums. On Saturday Brian and I took the boys over the icy path, along the crunchy snow that the boys wanted to eat, "like the man in the merkercial on TV, Mommy!" (commercial), to the Barnes and Noble across the street. Since the fine Barnes and Noble booksellers now boast "the greatest toy selection in the world!" (?) they added a block table within the expanded toy section that the boys and I played on while Brian went to pick up the book he needed. The boys are much better with Duplo (big Legos) blocks than they used to be, but they still sometimes have a hard time clicking them into place.

We had great fun at first, but soon frustration set in with the boys just as Brian found his book and came over to play too. Cal was emotionally injured by Daddy using some of the blocks he had been using and did some shrieking. I call these the Pre-Tantrum Tremors (PTTs). They are warnings that a meltdown is immanent if nothing is changed quickly. I took him to another toy and he calmed down. Then Clark started getting frustrated over blocks and started shrieking ridiculously loud, his PTTs rapidly escalating to a full-blown Physical Anguish Tantrum (PAT) as he flung blocks around. So Brian took him out the front doors and tried to calm him down. I took Cal, who at this point had calmed down and was perfectly content, outside with Brian and Clark. I stood out with the boys so Brian could go pay for his book before we left. I calmed Clark down from his indignant rage and then took both boys inside to fetch our stroller that was just inside the door, and leave the premises.

When I put Clark in the stroller he started more PTTs and squirmed almost through the bottom of the feet space, so that his feet were on the ground and his head was partially under the little tray on the stroller. His screams were reverberating around the once-pleasant interior of the store and I pulled him up by his coat, which of course only made him scream louder and slide down again, his PAT coming back with full force. He would not be reasoned with. I started pulling the stroller out the door, which made Cal enter PTT mode because he wasn't in the stroller too. By then there were about three people backed up around the door, trying to leave, while my giant stroller and I were taking up the small door space. I couldn't really pull or push it straight because the stroller itself was walking, thanks to Clark's little feet sticking through and his PAT.

I don't understand fits like this--the I'm-in-physical-anguish-and-must-be-heard-by-all tantrum. I really don't. My response is usually incredulity, rather than anger, (Really? You're really screaming hysterically over a block?) and my tactic is usually to remove the child from the scene, while at the same time not overreacting and making it worse-- which is probably what the little fit-pitcher wants. So in the ensuing awkward movements that it took for me to maneuver the walking stroller with the PTT boy and the PAT boy through the door, a random old man helped me. It was nice of him. I didn't need him to open his mouth though, as it turned out. He instructed one of the boys to, "Stop crying! Your mom is probably going to start crying herself."

What?

Weird. I mean, I kind of wanted to pick up Clark by his coat and shake him, and I was a perturbed and flustered to be in the awkward door situation, but I wasn't anywhere near crying and I don't know why he thought I was. So, as if Door Opener Man hadn't said enough, when Brian showed up with his book purchased and helped me get the stroller through the last door DOM opened his mouth again. "Oh, your help disappeared on you. I see," he said, nodding toward Brian. Come on, man. Really? If your door-opening comes with the price of your thoughtless comments, then why don't you just forget it. I'll have my PTT-ing boy try to hold the door open for me.

Anyway, that's my inappropriate comment from the weekend. And the giant meltdown, which was a prototypical PAT, was probably the worst public one ever. Below is a pictorial index of the main tantrum types caught on camera.

PTT's characteristic warming-up of the extremities for the physical display to come

The Physical Anguish Tantrum (PAT), this time over a computer screen

The annoying, but much-preferred in public, Silent Protest

That Accident Ten Years Ago

2012-01-20T15:39:00.000-05:00

Ten years ago this month I was in a car accident that shouldhave killed me. I don't want to get all Nietzsche about it, but the experienceand its repercussions have shaped mein a way that nothing else has, and made me stronger. On that January morning, myparents got the call from the hospital that must have really sucked. Theypacked, made arrangements for my other siblings, and drove without knowing much about my condition, six hours to thehospital. I was still in surgery when they arrived. Seven broken bones, twobone grafts, a couple years of physical therapy, a couple hardware removalsurgeries, the diagnosis of epilepsy, twenty or so seizures, some in the middleof streets and at bus stops, and here I am. Still alive. Still grateful.

I was weaseling around in my old cards and photos the otherday, looking for pictures the boys could cut up for a craft we were doing, whenI found the stash of cards I kept from ten years ago. I decided as I was readingthrough them that I need to write something about all those nice people whowere so wonderful during that time in my life. I know I ended up throwing someof the stuff out-- certainly the majority of the large stuffed animals had toeventually find new loving homes, and the cards from eighty-something studentsI had just finished student teaching, while sweet, I found no reason to keep.Space is all-important here in our cozy little hive. But most of the notes Ikept-- I'm a sucker for the written word, after all. I found myself tearing upas I read through them, standing there in my slippers, holding the notes withmy dry-from-too-much-washing mom-hands, stupid Jimmy Buffet singing in thebackground as the boys played their guitars with that cringe-y, out of tunetwang. I tried not to let the boys see that I was crying, which wasn’t hardbecause they quickly switched from a cheeseburger paradise to fighting overdrumsticks and space shuttles, as I allowed myself to remember that time.

While I make no claims whatsoever to having It All figured out in life, I think itwill be good for me to write a reflection on what I’ve learned from my accidentand my ten years of unusual challenges due to having epilepsy. Hopefully itwill serve as some semblance of a tribute to so many of you who were selflesslythoughtful and endlessly kind to me specifically during that rough first year ofrecovery. I know my inner teacher is showing with this, but here are the mainthings I’ve learned:

Control: I don’t have it and that’s okay. I never thought Iwas a control-y person before, but my accident and subsequent surgeries andseizures took away much of the control I had over my life, and it has not beeneasy to part with. When all is said and done, what I have control over is simplymy attitude when dealing with my lack of control. I spent months not even beingable to shower or get dressed by myself and I couldn’t stand on two feet andwalk for six months after my accident. I watched as what should have been thelast semester of my college experience passed without me. I watched areplacement roommate take over my bed in the house I lived in with my bestfriends. I watched those friends graduate. I watched the club softball team I’dhelped start go on to play their first season of NCAA Division 2 softballwithout me. All this happened while I lay on my hospital bed at my parents’ housea couple hundred miles away, the muscles in my legs atrophying away. All I coulddo about it was get angry, which I definitely did from time to time, or do mybest to let it go. It was a struggle then, and it still can be now. I have torely on everyone around me because driving with my epilepsy doesn’t work. Twotimes since being diagnosed I’ve gotten my driver’s license back because mydoctor and I have thought we’d figured out the formula for my seizures—how muchmedicine I need, why I have them, how to feel them coming on, but both times we’vebeen wrong and the car keys have been taken from me after a year and a half onetime, and after just a few months the next time. I have to depend on the busescoming somewhere near on-time and hope that people won’t get sick of me askingthem for rides. I used to prize my independence so much that losing control ofmuch of it has taken me ten years to do, and I still struggle with it.

Perspective: A lot of crap doesn’t matter. This goeshand-in-hand with the control thing. So much isn’t worth getting worked upover, all things considered. After I started walking again, everything elseseemed insignificant. The car broke down? I failed a quiz? I spilled ketchup onmy white shirt? I locked myself out? So what? I can walk. I can move around and do things by myself. It sounds cheesy, butI thought that way a lot the first few months after I started walking again. Iswore to myself I would always remember how lucky I am to simply be walking.This ten year crashaversary is a good reminder.

Humor: It makes the world a better place. I like to think Iknew this before my accident, but my experience reinforced the fact. Learningto see the funny in situations also helpswith the perspective of it all. How else am I supposed to deal with beingcarried down the aisle in a two giant casts as a bridesmaid and a month latercrutching down the aisle as yet another bridesmaid? And depending on my roommatesto walk to the back of the grocery store to buy my milk and laundry soap for mebecause my weak legs couldn’t handle so much walking? The accident and myepilepsy journey have refined my stellar, completely awesome sense of humorthat you wish you had.

People: Nice people make life richer. I have been blessedwith so many amazing people in my life that it’s almost ridiculous, many ofwhom shined that first year following the accident. First and foremost were myparents and my little brother and sister, who were still at home. My sister andmom did most of the difficult work—showering me and dressing me, rubbing myfeet to cheer me up, holding me when I cried in pain after the surgeries andtherapy and general frustration, feeding me, entertaining me, taking me tophysical therapy three days a week. And other people came out of the woodworkto help me. People I had fallen out of touch with for years sent cards andpeople I wasn’t sure even knew I existed came to visit me in the hospital. Theyprayed for me. The English department, my fellow English Ed majors, and myfriends helped me deal with being out of school and rejoiced in my small stepsof recovery, usually through email. One professor aided in getting me to meet andtalk to the Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, about whom I was doing my seniorproject. What did we talk about? Mostly the fact that I had two casts on mylegs and was pushing a walker at age 21, because he was in a similar situation after beinghit by a car years before. Friends took me bowling in my wheelchair. Friends ofmy parents brought me a little television for my room and drove me places. Myaccident helped heal one friendship in my past that I am so thankful to haveback.

As I look back over all the cards people sent and rememberthe nice things people did for me, I am astounded and I aspire to be someone asnice as those family and friends who did and still do so much for me. After Iwas diagnosed with a seizure disorder I narrowed down my search for jobs toplaces with good public transportation and that is how I ended up in the DCarea. Here I met and married Brian, who drives me everywhere and does all ourshopping, as well as provides love, care, and support for our growing family. Ihave twin boys, a condo in a perfect place for walking, and more amazingfriends. I honestly don’t know what more I could ask for, except maybe a smidgemore space. I even got those Russian nesting doll plates from World Market thatI was drooling over because another amazing friend read my blog entry aboutshopping!

And that is my ten years ago story and reflection on all it has meant to me—on how it has shaped my character and my life. I hope most people who touched my life in those first months have a chance to read this and know that I have not forgotten their kindness.

The day after the accident...for some reason I can't rotate this.

Visiting part of my softball team

Watching my best friends graduate

Being carried down the aisle as a bridesmaid

Thursday Thesicle

2012-01-19T15:53:00.000-05:00

Interactive computer screens about sharks are cooler than a real shark two feet from your face.

Pretending Beats Realing and TV

2012-01-18T08:30:00.002-05:00

The other day Calvin assured me, as he soothed hismake-believe, invisible baby chicken who was recovering from a make-believeinjury, "I'm just pretending, Mommy. I'm not realing." Because, youknow, I was extremely concerned that he had an actual chicken hiding in hishand right under my nose. Wait. No, I wasn't worried. But I love the made-upword! It makes total sense, right? Realing is the opposite of pretending. Sogreat.

The boys have entered a whole new realm with theirpretending. It's even more imaginative than when I wrote this a couple monthsago. Lately a big thing has been that every toy gets an owie or gets sick andneeds medicine and to be petted (“I feel you better, little kitty cat.”) gentlyby each of them and all present parents. Sometimes they even needband-aids. This scenario is not restricted to toy animals and people, either,though those are the more frequent patients. I’ve been told that trucks andguitars are injured and need medicine as well. Another scene they love to play out is that of a musiciancoming on stage to a screaming crowd. “MOMMY! I’m Jimmy Buffet! All the peopleare so happy to see me sing! Come!You clap for me.” Which is when I become the rowdy, one-person fan mob youalways wished you could be, as Cal comes jogging out onto the living room stagewith his guitar strapped on, waving to the furniture.

We went to the dentist on Friday. I thank the boys' first and only-ever fulllength movie they've watched for causing them to freak out before we left thehouse. Finding Nemo has some startling and scary scenes in which the dentistcauses his patients pain. It's nothing intentional, it's simply things, like ifI remember right, a seagull flies into the office and the dentist leaves aneedle in a patient's gum and the chair spins around or something of an equallystartling nature. And while I'm harshing on Nemo, let me just say: watch a movie,regardless of how harmless it may seem, before you let your kids see it. We gota car DVD player for Christmas and put in Finding Nemo on our way to the lakehouse over New Year's. A couple minutes down the road we realized (because wecouldn't SEE it) that we were introducing our children to death. Nemo's momdies in the very beginning. So the boys kept asking, "Where's Coral? Whathappened to Coral?" And we were a little caught off guard and saidsomething about how sometimes people go away and don’t come back and then felt like bad parents for not checking the movie.

Anyway, back to the dentist pretending: It took usrepeatedly telling the boys, "Just Mommy and Daddy are going to see the dentist,Cal and Clark get to play in the playroom." Finally they seemed to believeus and allowed themselves to be strapped in the car seats. (Next time they will actually see the dentist for the first time) When we got there they played with blocks for a littlewhile, while Brian got his teeth cleaned, but not really as blocks. Cal had memake a block guitar and Clark waspretending the blocks were food and cups. I completed an architecturallyinnovative tower using all the blocks in the playroom while the boys watched,unimpressed, feeding the stuffed animals, including The Grinch, pretend milk.When I finished, they launched hardcore into their interactive, third partypretending. Cal went and got me pretend blue lollipops, throwing the pretend wrappersand sticks away after each one. Soon Clark started making pretend"zonya" (lasagna) for not only me and Cal, but for the receptionistsand other patients in the waiting room. They all loved playing along and theboys thrived off the enthusiasm. They ran around collecting various colored"cups" of water with ice for the lasagna eaters and putting sauce onit for everyone, while Clark constantly said, “there you go, man (or lady)” ina baby-voice for whatever reason.

I was glad that the boys never once asked me to watch the two TVs that were in the playroom, but instead did all their pretending and not much realing. They lasted the whole time we were there—well over an hour-- even though it was during their normal nap time, and they barely played with any actual toys-- mostly imaginary food and real people. And I love that, since I am still the bed-jumping, mud pie-making Olympic champion and tape recorder radio station/play food restaurant entrepreneur that I was all those years ago somewhere in a quiet Idaho forest.

and the crowd goes wild!

Creepy Space Robots

2012-01-16T16:49:00.001-05:00

The space robot on tv and on display

Today I found that space robots are creepy, especially when they move all herky-jerky with old music playing in the background. And they're actually not spacerobots, they're space suit androids used to create astronaut suits, since testing thesuits out for pressure would be dangerous on actual humans.

The robots were the boys' favorite part of today's trip tothe Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum. They didn't find the robots creepy like I did. All Northern Virginia parents should takeadvantage of this place. It rocks. It's a huge airplane hangar by DullesAirport, with hundreds of planes and helicopters and missiles and engines andthe amazing space shuttle Enterprise. I won't even try to pretend I know thedifferent names and time periods and models of the planes, because not a lot ofplacard-reading goes on while the little ones dash around. But it's a sweetplace to take kids, especially in the winter when there are few visitors(especially on weekdays), and it's spacious so the kids can run around ifthey're so inclined. We went today so Gammy could do with us, and since it's aholiday, the place was busier than normal, but still very manageable. Sinceit's a Smithsonian museum, admission is free, but they do charge $15 forparking unless you go at 4pm, after which it is free (The place closes at 5pm).So, pack a couple moms and kids in the minivan on a weekday morning and getyour money’s worth.

The placards that I hardly have time to read

There are plenty of interactive things to do also. There areflight simulators and an IMax theater and an observation tower where you cansee and do what air traffic controllers do. They have frequent educationalprograms, including a once-a-month Super Science Saturday where there are a bunch ofhands-on activities stationed around the museum for kids of all ages toparticipate in. One time the boys got to try on astronaut gloves and boots (okay,they were actually afraid of the boots) and I saw a demonstration with spongesand a plastic spinal column that illustrated what happens to spines in space(which sounds painful). They have story times and flight suits that kids cantry on. Super cool stuff, and events that the boys will now appreciate more andmore as they get older. The past few times we've gone the boys have beenfantastic and they've remembered a lot about it, too. The last time they got togo in the cockpit of a little Cessna plane and push buttons and lights and theyloved it. They post discovery stations around the museum on a regular basis.

My boys usually last for two hours in the museum and then we'reready to either eat a snack and head home, or take the McDonald's chickennugget plunge at the gigantic McDonald's cafe inside. It is such a big diningarea that bringing your own lunch would be easy to do without feeling rude,though I've never done it. The workers probably wouldn't even notice.

At the nose of the space shuttle

Last night after we told the boys we were going to themuseum in the morning, they said they wanted to do a craft! (It was Clark'sidea! MAJOR VICTORY!) So I found astronaut coloring sheets online and the boyscolored them, I roughly cut them out, and we pasted pictures of their heads inthe helmets. Then they used some glitter glue to make stars on a blackconstruction paper where we pasted the scenes. Their interest in astronauts andspace has been gaining momentum ever since they got a Little People spaceshuttle for a couple stomp rockets, a cool astronaut book, and astronaut ice cream for Christmas from some awesome aunts and uncles. We've watched a lot of YouTube spaceshuttle launches and moonwalks and Brian has been showing them GoogleEarth sothey've learned a little about space and what satellites do. So this trip wasprobably the most meaningful one they've had. Cal also showed an interest inall the engines, which have never captured his attention before.

So, in summary, NOVA parents, you should take your kidshere. You should pack up your astronaut ice cream and your kids' friends and show them everything, but especially the space robot and thevideo of the dancing space robot that are over by the space shuttle, and comeback on a day they have all the science-y hands-on stations (next one is February 11th). 5-4-3-2-1- I'mout.

Astronaut Calvin (in Astronaut Buzz Lightyear shirt)

The space shuttle from a catwalk

I guess this plane is making Cal nervous?

astronaut crafts on the fridge!

Breakfast Survey Finale

2012-01-13T09:37:00.002-05:00

Me: "What do you want for breakfast?"

Clark "Astronaut food that is kind of like ice cream cones."

Cal "Egg chocolate."

Instead they settled for honey wheat bagels with cream cheese (read: licks of cream cheese with an occasional bite of bagel) and bananas. As they were eating their bananas (like monkeys!) they took out the play food eggs that crack open and pretended there where baby chickens in them but that the chickens got hurt and needed to be held and kissed and to have medicine. I was glad we didn't have eggs today because it could have presented some awkward questions about eggs and chickens and possibly even reproduction that I'm not prepared to answer.

Good breakfast survey week.

Here are some edited pictures because I'm obsessing over photo editing the past couple days.

Cal meets bagel.

Clark illustrates his breakfast terms

Breakfast Survey, Day 4

2012-01-12T09:43:00.000-05:00

Me: "What do you want for breakfast today?"

Clark: "I want toast and Cal wants chocolate and astronaut food. And I want toast and eggs."

Cal: "I want uh, uh, sandwiches that astronauts eat."

Shoot. No oatmeal requests today. I bet it will make a comeback tomorrow.

When the animals came out of their cages, they ate eggs and toast and forgot about astronaut ice cream.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-01-12T09:42:00.001-05:00

Lizard bath towels rock and roll.

subtitle: I learned how to edit images.

Breakfast Survey, Day 3

2012-01-11T09:26:00.002-05:00

To continue my week-long breakfast survey, this morning I asked the boys what they wanted for breakfast, hoping that at least one of them would ask for oatmeal, since their new found love of oatmeal is what started this survey. So I posed the question to my two smiley, striped jammie-clad boys this morning.

Clark, bouncing and yelling in his bed: "I WANT TOAST AND EGGS LIKE WHEN AVA AND ETHAN WERE HERE YESTERMORNING!"

Cal: "I want oh-meal and sprinkles of MANY colors and cinnamon on it."

Score another one for oatmeal!

If you missed it, I wrote about our museum trip yesterday over here on the very cool SuperNovaMommy's website.

Completing the breakfast survey

MORNING TACKLE!

MORNING ~~SUFFOCATION~~ LOVE

Morning brother hug

Breakfast Survey and Museum Trip

2012-01-10T16:51:00.001-05:00

This morning we got up and I tried to get the boys to quickly get ready to catch the bus to go to the Natural History Museum. I recommend never trying to get two year-olds to do anything quickly because in the end all it will make you want to do is punch the wall and maybe bite something. They don't know how and the more aggravated you get the funnier they think you are. Just pour another cup of coffee and get over it. You'll be late. It's not like the stuffed mammals in the exhibits were going to complain about the time we arrived.

I almost forgot to ask the boys what they wanted for breakfast. I already had two cinnamon raisin bagels ready to hand them since we were "in a hurry." Sprinkles and oatmeal did not fit into my plan for the day.

Me: "What do you want for breakfast this morning?"

Cal: "I want oatmeal, I guess."

Clark: "I want a bagel. A purple bagel!"

Sorry kids. Here are your boring brown bagels. Now hop in the stroller and let's do this thing.

I wrote about our trip with Uncle A to the museum here on a Northern Virginia Moms website, complete with more pictures. Here's a delightful sampling:

Looking for butterflies in the museum's butterfly pavilion

"These caterpillars are huge, Mommy!"

Giant Brown Bear and Giant Uncle A

The boys' favorite mode of transportation: Uncle A's pushin'

Burgers at Ollie's Trolley

The Oatmeal Streak and Breakfast Week Survey

2012-01-08T17:25:00.000-05:00

I've written about oatmeal on here before. The boys used to love it. I'd put raisins or peaches or bananas in it and they'd gobble it up and I'd prance around the kitchen feeling like a healthful, successful mother. Since that first entry last winter though, the boys have refused oatmeal. At one point this summer I employed EOD measures (extreme oatmeal discipline) and kind of lost to a teddy graham, but I suppose I also kind of won. You decide. So no oatmeal has been consumed by the stubborn eaters since then.

My friend Aimee had the brilliant idea to put sprinkles in oatmeal. Her son had also had a longtime break from oatmeal, but when she let him put sprinkles in it he gobbled it up. I tried it and it worked! For the past couple weeks the boys have eaten oatmeal quite a few times and cleaned up their entire bowls. Now for the past three days I've asked what they want for breakfast and they've requested oatmeal with sprinkles. Usually they request eggs and toast or pancakes. Sometimes they request odd things like candy or astronaut ice cream, or chicken nuggets or salmon.

Yummy green oatmeal?

So many sprinkle options!

For your amusement and mine, I've decided to ask both of them what they want for breakfast each morning this week. I'm hoping I'll get some fun answers. Here are this morning's desires:

Clark, grinning: "I want eggs and toast!" Huh. Oatmeal streak is over. How normal of him.

Cal, jumping. "I want blue sauce with green this time and eggs!" Blue sauce is the special Daddy sauce that Brian makes for their chicken nuggets. It consists of Ranch dressing and blue food coloring. They adore it.

Okay, let me go get the eggs out... See you tomorrow.

The Stairs or the Fire?

2012-01-06T16:46:00.000-05:00

Makingdecisions has never been something I'm good at. Would I rather have pizza orChinese food? I either don't care and defer to the company I'm with, orstruggle about the merits of both options and torture myself with the what-ifs.I'm rarely good at quickly deciding on anything.

But becoming a parent has spedup my decision-making process in most areas. Since I have twins, who go throughthe same stages at the same time, those decisions really sped up when theybegan walking. It was as if I was being forced in a split second to answernearly-philosophical questions that deserve pondering and postulating over. Forexample: one boys toddles off toward the stairs as another nears a blazingfire. Which do I grab first? Is being burned worse than falling? Ready, set,go! Decide! Now! One boy is eating a bug out of the sand, the other is racingtoward the water without a life jacket. BAM. Decide! It's seriously somethingthat you might have a group discussion about in a philosophy class. If Hitlerwere drowning in a river, and you were a lifeguard, would you jump in and savehim? That type of thing. Is it worse for Clark to step on and break his guitaror for Calvin to pee all over the floor? It's really a tough call.

Now thereare the discipline decisions since both boys are fond of throwing loudobnoxious fits lately. What is the nature and degree of the offense? If one boywon't stop kicking me while I change his diaper, should I kick him back (WhichI've gently done while sitting down and it works like a charm, because it offends them. It's like a slow motion pretend kick, but they hate it.), or do I put him in his bedfor a time out? Does one boy hitting the other boy in self-defense deserve the samedisciplining that an offensive hit warrants? Better decide fast!

I think I'mgetting better at the split-second decision-making than I was pre-babies, butI'm still not much good at it. Or am I?

And what should I make for dinner…?

Is this the best way for him to learn not to stick his head in a fountain spout? Maybe.

You Probably Shouldn't Kiss a Turkey

2012-01-06T16:28:00.004-05:00

Today the boys tried to kiss a turkey. Really guys? Of allthe animals on the farm? The ones with the beaks? Turkeys are nasty looking.Their faces look like they're missing a layer of flesh-- like they're showingoff their muscular, nay, even their skeletal systems for the world to see. Goodthing they're downright delicious with potatoes and gravy (yes, I said nay).

Smooch

This week the weather has been frigid. Very January. But nottoday. No winter coats, no mittens, no hats. Just sweatshirts. We practicallyneeded sunblock. So we headed off to a little farm that's a couple minutesaway-- Frying Pan Park. (Plug for Reston: I LOVE LIVING HERE. There are so manydifferent types of things to do in the area.) I think the boys loved it more than theyever have the other times we've gone. We went with friends and no one even fellin manure or pissed off a large cow or asked about exposed reproductivesystem parts on a horse or anything.

So, I wanted to share a few pictures and revel in the sunand non-January-ness of today and make you jealous if it's cold where you live.To top it off we came home and had a picnic on the balcony without sweatshirts. We did not eat turkey.

Old McCalvin had a tractor.

So did McClark

For some reason all the kids thought this goat was hilarious. I did not.

Yeah, Cal, go ahead and eat that rusty metal gate. It's cool.

Ava and Cal poke the corn on the cob in the corn crib.

The pigs' heat lamp is like a ceiling fan, Mommy! Um. Sure.

Peacock sighting!

More turkey kisses

Crafty Guest Post

2012-01-05T13:51:00.001-05:00

Such a flurry of activity today, here on Whispers and Shouts! I wrote a guest post on my new friend Nikki's mom blog and she posted it today. It's about my attempt at being crafty and it only resulted in one blister. Enjoy, and think twice about the power of glue guns, especially when used late at night.

Thursday Thesicle

2012-01-05T09:27:00.001-05:00

Don't forget about the bread you stuck in the cupboard to feed to the ducks.

Vision News

2012-01-05T09:17:00.000-05:00

Two weeks before Christmas we got the second best news we've ever heard concerning Cal's eye. The best news was when the specialist in Long Island told us that Cal's retina was not detached and that he could fixit. A couple weeks before that we had been told that his retina was detached,that he would never see, and that most likely his eye would die and have to beextracted, resulting in problems with his skull developing correctly as hegrew. You can imagine the mercurial emotions Brian and I felt during that time.I wanted to punch the retina specialist in Washington in the face for his misdiagnosisand I wanted to make out with the one in New York.

It turned out that the doctors knew each other and the NewYork doctor made a call to the Washington doctor and in the end, despite myanger at him, we still see the first doctor, who has since proven to beapologetic about his mistake and awesome in general. He's actually one of thebest retina guys in Washington. I again cannot stress enough the importance ofgetting a second opinion. Cal's PHPV is so rare that only a handful of doctorsin the entire country specialize in it and the one we found in New York hasdone extensive research on the condition. Let me tell you, that man will get aChristmas card from here on out, and all of our referrals. He assured us thatthe Washington doctor's mistake was an honest one, and one many doctors wouldmake.

Fast forward through more surgeries and contacts andpatching and eye drops. In July of this year Cal's pediatric ophthalmologisttested his vision and said he couldn't see well at all and was grim about hischances of ever seeing better. She's the one who originally prescribed hiscontact strength when he was five months old. We weren't happy about that news andher lack of curiosity for what he actually could see, and so we saw yet anotherophthalmologist in August, who found that Cal was farsighted in his good eyeand he prescribed Cal's glasses.

We saw yet another pediatric ophthalmologistsimply for convenience sake because this guy didn't operate in the samehospital as our retina guy and we didn't want to have to put Cal underanesthesia twice when both investigative exams could be done at one time by twodoctors. She is the wife of Cal’s retina specialist-- the guy whomisdiagnosed him. She is awesome. When he was under anesthesia she found thatCal needed a much weaker contact prescription than what he had. So, two weeksbefore Christmas she did a vision test on Cal with the new strength. Usuallythey use images instead of letters to test young children's sight. She coveredhis good eye, turned on a screen across the room with a letter on it, andreached for the button to turn on the images instead of letters. Calimmediately blurted out, "T." She was surprised and said, "Youknow your letters!" Yep.

She switched screens to smaller and smaller letters and weboth looked at each other in amazement as he kept saying them correctly. Thisscreen was ten feet across the room! With his stronger prescription he couldn'tsee nearly that far-- it must have blurred his vision at longer distances. Ofcourse I got goose bumps and the doctor, who knew of her husband's misdiagnosisand of Cal's amazing tale thus far, made me like her even more with herexcitement. She said she couldn't wait to tell her husband and that he would beso happy to hear it. It kind of made me want to invite them both to our gingerbreadparty, but maybe I'll wait until next year for that.

So that's the happy update on Cal's vision. Yay!

Lookin' good. Seein' well!

The Short Life of My Nose Finger

2012-01-04T08:46:00.000-05:00

I'm not street smart by any means, but I know that some drugusers grow out a fingernail or two so they can snort their drugs easier andmore conveniently. A drug finger, Iguess you would say. Well, I had a nose finger. That's right. When I wascutting my fingernails, which I keep very short, about a week ago, Iaccidentally missed the nail on my left index finger. I meant to go back to theclippers and finish it off, but of course I kept getting interrupted andforgetting.

It just so happened that the boys were in the middle of giantbooger-dom. They've had these lingering colds that don't seem to make themfeel bad, they just produce a disturbing amount of boogers that crust all overtheir noses and make me feel like an incompetent mother. I remember beinggrossed out by kids' boogers before I was a mom and wondering, judgmentally,how the parents could just be out in public with a kid whose boogers werevisibly crustified and nasty. Now I know.

It is ridiculously difficult to reach and wrangle up the crustyboogers from inside a squirming child's nostrils. You can try being civilizedand using a tissue or a wipe, but when it comes down to it, that won't get thecrusty parts that trap the slimy danglers up in the nostrils that hang there tobe seen and grimaced at. Sorry, I had tosay it. Slimy danglers.

Well, I accidentally found the answer. Serendipity! My nosefinger! With my index finger longer than my other fingers, I found myself usingit to extract the boogers that first day. At the end of the day when I finallypulled out the clippers, I made eye contact with myself in the bathroom mirrorand smirked. I put the clippers back in the drawer.

So for about a week I've depended on my nose finger to reachthose hard-to-reach places in the boys' noses, much to their dismay. I'm sureit's unpleasant to experience my surprise-attacks as I swiftly slide my righthand on their necks and my nose finger up their noses, but I don't care becauseit makes them much more presentable and grosses me out less. I mean, I find ithard to be by them when they have those crusted danglers because I zero in onthem and don't pay attention to what the boys are saying to me. "Mommy!Clark stepped in the toilet!" “Cal fell off the bunk bed!” Smile and nod,and shamelessly attack with my nose finger. Victory!

Anyway, this morning I clipped my nose finger off. Irealized that, regardless of how practical it was, it was getting to beover-the-top disgusting and besides that it made typing difficult. Farewell,nose finger. Stand guard, though. I may call on you again, however. Maybe nextcold season.

Outside boogers are hard to reach when it's cold. The answer? Nose finger!

Top Pictures

2012-01-03T17:14:00.001-05:00

I flat out stole this idea from several other mom bloggers. It was easy to do because I put together a calendar for my grandparents and parents every year and so have been wading through pictures for the best ones. Here are thirteen pictures--one from each month of the year, and two from August. It's fun to see how the boys have changed.

January kisses

February Valentines

March snuggles

April birthday!

May Twins

June ocean

July sparklers

August sand

September glasses

October fans

November ties

December surprises

Best of 2011

2011-12-30T17:06:00.000-05:00

Here we are, awaiting the end of 2011 at my in-law's lakehouse somewhere in southern Virginia. Calvin has only fallen into the freezing cold lake once today. Brian somehow lost a metal wedge while cutting firewood. Clark had an epic booger experience that I hope I never see the likes of again. I went "running," which is a misrepresentation of the way I was moving my body along the hilly terrain, but at least I did something. The best part was when I ran by a deserted old house with a tiny fenced-in graveyard and ancient lace curtains in the windows. I could practically hear the Confederate (or would it have been Union?) soldiers hiding under the planks on the deck.

I thought I'd take this peaceful time, as the sun sets on the glass-smooth lake and the boys nap, to share with you my favorite and the most popular posts from this past year. Here they are in the order in which they appeared. Enjoy and Happy New Year!

first one on epilepsy

on oatmeal

inappropriate old man

on words

Terrible Shark Twos

the boys meet the ocean!

white person!

ceiling fans

more ceiling fans

goat milk and canning and Costco

pool wars

baseball games

creating shelf-topia

Cal's eye

cutting hair

pretend words

water wars

Mommy, you had a seizure

walking off the pounds

ceiling fan costumes

our pretenders

100th post!

how I eat scraps

the Santa question

Thursday Thesicle

2011-12-29T14:57:00.002-05:00

Baking Christmas cookies is serious business.

Is Santa Coming?

2011-12-21T23:18:00.000-05:00

I don’t know what to do about Santa. Who knew that the fat guyin red would ever pose a problem for me? I grew up not believing for a momentthat Santa was real. My parents didn’t want to lie to my siblings and me, or tosubstitute the man in the red suit for the baby in the manger. I don't feel scarred by never believing. Brian grew up believing in Santa for awhile, but eventually caught on. Hedoesn’t even remember when he realized that Santa was his parents, so he clearlywas not traumatized by the revelation like some kids are. He remembers that themagic of it was exciting for awhile, but is inclined, as I am, not to lie toour boys about Santa. A friendly man in line at the coffee shop the other day asked the boys who was coming soon (they didn't answer, just kept counting the chocolate milks) and then asked me slyly, "Well Mom, is Santa coming?" I didn't mean to, but I basically unloaded on him what Brian and I have been talking about when it comes to Santa. He had no idea the answer to his question would take so long.

Things to consider:

Enchantment: The magic of it does seem like it could be fun.Looking into the sky and searching for a sleigh and a really nice old man using flying reindeer to bring you what you want must be amazing. I don't want to cheat my kids of childhood fantasies, but on the other hand, I remember being completely enchanted by books I read as a child even though I knew they were fiction. I mean, knowing that Gilbert Blythe wasn't real didn't stop me from wanting to kiss him. I simply can’t bear the thought of having 10 year-oldswho still believe in Santa and to whom we will have to one day admit we’vebeen lying their entire lives. I’ve read what other parents have writtenabout being in that exact position and how paralyzing it is. What else might webe lying about to them?

Cookies and Carrots and Elves: I couldn’t do it. I couldn’ttell my boys to leave cookies for Santa and carrots for his reindeer. I couldn’ttell them that an elf is watching to see if they are good and report to Santa. Itwould eat at my conscience. No way. It was nothing that my parents told me and so it seems so unnatural and silly to me. For me, it would be like telling them witha straight face that Curious George is sitting on the toilet taking a poop infront of them even though they can’t see him. Which would probably make them want to beat me up, by the way.

It’s Still Magical: I loved Christmas growing up. For myfamily though, the magic and mystery of the season did not come from Santa andhis elves, but from the gifts that we bought each other in secret and whisperedabout together, the kind things we did and made for others around us,the baking we did together, and of course celebrating the miracle of Christ’sbirth all those years ago. We always got boxes of gifts and baked goods from mygrandparents in Minnesota, and gifts from other distant family members. Mygrandparents who lived near us always gave us great gifts and came over for dinner. I remember lyingunderneath our thin, probably crooked Christmas trees (cut from the woodsbehind our house) every year looking up at the lights and ornaments andwondering about the gifts under the tree. Wondering who had given me what. Wondering how my brother would react when he saw what I bought him. Wondering what it might have been likeall those years ago for the shepherds keeping watch over their sheep and thatlittle couple in the stable. My sister and I hung snowflakes from our ceilingwith fishing line and put lights up in our room. We fell asleep every night for a month listening toChristmas carols and plotting how we were going to pull off surprising Mom andDad with something nice. Christmas Eve was always exciting. After ourextended family left, we tried to fall asleep. We would hear Mom and Dadwhispering and giggling as they filled our stockings, and we would squeeze oureyes tight as we willed ourselves to sleep, wondering what little things Momhad been hiding all year (and where?!) would appear in our stockings. It was a magical season, just not elf and reindeer powered.

Please Don’t Hate Us: I know that this decision would have social repercussions. How many of our friends and relatives will Cal or Clark offend if they blurt out to their children that Santa is not real? I don’t remember that my siblings or I ever did that. We knew Santa was pretend, but we didn’t shout it from the rooftops. I just don’t quite know how to delicately handle the situation.

Finding Middle Ground: The boys just a few weeks agodiscovered Santa. “Who is that silly man?” Clark asked me. I toldhim it was Santa and he didn’t ask any questions. I don’t think we willactively tell them Santa isn’t real, but we aren’t going to make a big deal ofit. As for now, they know that people give each other Christmas gifts—we’ve hada few gift exchanges with friends and with my brother. They have helped make Christmasgifts for friends and relatives. They know that the gifts under the tree arefrom us and Grandma and Papa and Gammy and Poppy. They know that Christmas isJesus’ birthday. Why complicate things and create what could be a problem down theroad? Instead I guess we’re basically ignoring the jolly old fellow for now and hoping that other elements of Christmas prove more memorable for the boys.

As the man at the coffee shop said, while grasping for his double cappuccino on the way out the door and undoubtedly regretting having engaged me in conversation, "It's a big decision."

Thoughts? I would love any input and/or advice you might have. Leavea comment! What is your experience as a child and/or parent? What have you told your kids? Whatdo you plan to tell your kids? Why? Willyou disown us if our boys tell your kids that Santa is pretend? I’dreally love to know.

Santa-killer out.

Talk about seasonal magic: The boys eat their first-ever candy canes.

This is me one toothless Christmas before we moved to the woods
and cut our own trees.
I seem pretty well-adjusted, right?

Thursday Thesicle

2011-12-21T12:19:00.001-05:00

Boys are often fond of boogers, yelling, and drinking naked.

Gingerworld

2011-12-20T15:31:00.002-05:00

I want to provide some pictures of our gingerbread extravaganza this year. First of all, I baked all the gingerbread for the party a week in advance, which was an unprecedented display of maturity and organization that I have not shown for quite some time. This meant that I did not stay up late every night of the week with Delilah and my rolling pin, covering the house in a fine layer of flour, the spicy smell of gingerbread, and stacks of gingerbread house pieces. I just did normal people things and some Christmasy projects. It was odd. I kind of missed Delilah.

Instead I stood on my feet for what felt like 48 hours the weekend before at my in-laws' house baking. The picture below shows what I baked. You can't exactly tell, but those gingerbread men are huge. I put the (regular-sized) toothpaste tube in for scale, because it's more impressive that way.

The7th annual gingerbready party was another smashing success. Here are some pictures.

A weekend's work (toothpaste tube for scale)

Gingerbread cowboy!

Candyland!

Nativity scene

Margo made a ceiling fan with her gingerbread couple.

Calvin ate Margo's gingerbread ceiling fan.

Ava and Ethan showed their parents how to build a house.

The Korins completed their annual masterpiece.

Andrew expertly decorated his gingerbread man and tree.

The Cupolo family's townhouse

The boys put blue pajamas on their gingerbread boys...and candy in their mouths.

Aunt Julie and John fashioned the first-ever Crosson gingerbread grand piano.

Masterpiece of the year, I'd say.

National's minor gingerbread league ballpark which I constructed days after the party.

If that gingerbread explosion doesn't put you in the Christmas spirit, I don't know what will, people. Now if only Virginia could get a white Christmas this year instead of a white Valentine's Day...

Thursday Thesicle

2011-12-15T10:23:00.000-05:00

Recipe for a good time: Open toddler, insert Pop Rocks.

Annual Christmas Non-Shopping Trip

2011-12-13T22:55:00.000-05:00

I took my annual Christmas non-shopping trip last night. Eversince my brother moved close to me six years ago, we have been taking an annualChristmas shopping trip together. It’s a unique trip because both of us hate toshop and love to procrastinate. Shopping is right up there on my list of hates withfingernails on chalkboards and road kill. The fact should be obvious by thefashion-less (I prefer timeless, or classic) way I dress and how I’mperpetually out of socks. It isn’t actually fair to call our trip a shopping trip, so we call it our non-shopping trip.

It began the firstyear he lived here because we both had put off our Christmas shopping untilvery late—I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it was the 23^rd,possiblyeven the 24^thof December. So we went not only for moral support,but also for the practicality of being able to pick out our own gifts from eachother. I picked out some slippers and a wallet and he bought them for me and Ibought him a book he wanted. Makes perfect sense. I’m guessing we didn’t wrapthem, but maybe we did.

Here’s how the trip usually goes: We arrive at a loudChristmas-y mall with a mammoth fake tree and its gaudy ornaments, passageways fullof unsupervised adolescents, toy-crazed children tugging on their parents, andsingle coeds browsing for expensive cutlery or fine jewelry or lacyunmentionables for their significant other(s). The music is blaring. A sweaty Santais propped in front of the camera with a zillion kids squirming in line. It isall we can do not to turn around and leave. We discuss where we want to gofirst, and if neither of us has a good idea we either head straight to a candle store to smellinteresting smells, or to a restaurant to grab a beer. After an hour or so ofexploring scents and their laughable names or sharing some good siblingconversation over a seasonal lager, we venture back out to the inevitable. Ifwe make it another hour or so, we will need another break so we’ll hit up anice cream shop in the food court and have some more heart-to-heart conversation.When all is said and done we usually come away with maybe a gift or two, ormaybe none, but the point has become that we spend time together. We usuallydon’t make lists, for how can you fail if you have no standard? Everything is abonus!

I am nearly ashamed to say that last night I not only made a list but I also bought a few thingson it. It was almost a little tooproductive to be recognized as a Dawn and Aaron Annual Christmas Non-ShoppingTrip. Aaron did not make a list and so he considered his purchases pleasantsurprises. I think we may have broken records for productivity right off thebat since we started at Wal-Mart to pick up Calvin’s new glasses. Right away wehad an acquisition. Once we picked those up we were a little overwhelmed at thesize and bustle around us. Aaron lives in DC and there aren’t many big storesaround him—mostly corner groceries and underground pharmacies. And since I don’tdrive I don’t do much shopping besides the grocery store down the street or thebagel place nearby. I had to fight to keep walking.

We moseyed around, lookingat the board games and reminiscing about games we played growing up, wonderingwhat kind of people buy a trivia game for the TV show Jersey Shore, things likethat. Aaron took way too much time picking out deodorant, mostly because of howpeculiar the smells were. He settled on three sticks with names like wilderness, open air, and freedom, (Ifyou wonder what any of those smells like, you can stick your nose under hisarms and find out.) while I successfully convinced myself that the boys in factdo not need a Spongebob pretend razor,shaving cream, and mirror for the bath. Aaron realized he needed a bike lightor two since he recently almost got run over while biking, so he picked thoseup. We ran into Brian’s aunt. I bought a bra. Aaron found some new pillows forhis bed. Some double-sided mounting tape. Clearly not a lot of Christmasshopping action going on. I bought some Play-doh to put in the boys’ stockings,because it seems like they should try Play-doh at some point, plus it came inneon colors. Suddenly we very much needed a cart (something we really did not want to need) and so Aaron put downhis loot on a tie display to go find one. We left with altogether much morethan we had envisioned getting. I felt like I should be done. Stocking stuffersfor the boys was an item on my list and I had bought a bonus pack of Play-doh. Fourexciting new colors!

Next we checked out some other stores by Wal-Mart, justlooking around mostly. We settled into the comfort of World Market where Aarontexted me at one point, “save me from myself.” He had fallen prey to the oliveoil section and found the labels riveting, so he read all of them. I wasfeeling the same way among the little kitchen accessories. How delightful! I foundsome stocking stuffers and gifts and tried to figure out how I couldrationalize buying Russian nesting doll plates for myself, but alas, I couldnot. In the end I was happy to come away with a good lot, including someChristmas cards that I have since decided to return. Aaron settled on some sortof Greek, pressed, oober-double-super-extra virgin olive oil, whose rich history he could no doubtstill dazzle you with, along with some bar accessories for his blossoming homebar, and candles for himself. (Indian Sandalwood and Indonesian Teak)

We hadoutdone ourselves with all our productivity and our stomachs were rumbling. Wehadn’t even made it to the mall yet! So we found the mall nearby and walked intoa restaurant and spent the next hour doing what the essence of our non-shoppingtrip is: good old fashioned sibling talk. This time it was over some greasyburgers, cold beers, and a sub-par server named Carly. We never made it to anystores in the mall. Aaron brought me home when we finished eating. Since Aaronhad no list, he felt that his cache of items was a nice surprise and I washappy that I covered parts of my list. When Aaron got home he saw that he had lefthis new pillows at Wal-Mart on the tie display. Oh well! Another successfullyunsuccessful Dawn and Aaron Annual Christmas Non-Shopping Trip.

Aaron and me hanging out a few years ago...notice we aren't shopping.

First year of our Non-Shopping trip

ADDENDUM: After reading this again, I thought I may have come off as a bit of a Scrooge/Grinch. Rest assured; I am not. I love Christmas and I love giving gifts to people. I love giving them gifts I have thought out and worked at, but our non-shopping trip is usually for those gifts that we realize we need a little too late to do anything awesome for. So. I am not Scrooge-y. The end.

Thursday Thesicle

2011-12-08T08:43:00.001-05:00

There are cheeseburgers in paradise.

I'm Gonna Go Potty

2011-12-08T08:27:00.001-05:00

Sometime about a year and a half ago, I morphed from anormal person who politely excuses herself from social exchanges in order touse the restroom, to a person who unabashedly and flippantly proclaims to everyonewithin earshot that “I’M GONNA GO POTTY.” It’s normal in my mom groups. You tell your kid,“Hey sweetie, I’m gonna go potty, I’ll be right back. You play here with yourfriends. See you soon.” Obviously this negates the need to turn to your momfriend and tell her that you are going to use the restroom or bathroom. What isshe, stupid? No. Gradually, the terms restroomand bathroom fade from yourvocabulary except for when you have to clean one. There are good reasons for announcingyour intent to go potty.

Modeling: Your kid needs to know that everyone goes pottyand they do it in the toilet. Soon enough (or not soon enough) they will be infull-blown potty training mode. Simply saying I’m going to the bathroom or restroommight just be mysterious at first and they won’t know what you’re actuallydoing in there.

Comfort: If you just disappear from the room with noannouncement, especially if you are somewhere unfamiliar, your kid (Calvin)might (will) begin screaming maniacally, thinking he has been heartlessly leftbehind while I leave the house. Or, he might work himself up to panic mode by repeating "Where did Mommy go?" over and over, faster and faster. Explaining your absence as going potty makesperfect sense. Mom will be back in about a minute. She's doing something sheoften does. Nothing unusual about it. It comforts.

Yesterday while the boys were napping and Brian and I were talkingin the living room, I left, absent-mindedly announcing, “Be right back. I’mgonna go potty.” The awesome thing about it is that he didn’t even notice and Ididn’t draw his attention to it. I instead mulled this potty phenomenon over inmy head and decided to write about it.

The potty policy is actually an example of language shiftsthat parents make (or should make) basedon their audience. Around the boys we try not to use certain words or talkbadly about people. Of course that’s not always the way things go down. I wasdisappointed the other day when Cal started thundering, “STUPID TUNA!” at thetuna he couldn’t get onto his spoon. Oops. I’m sure there will be more excitingfirst words, but I’d like to put them off as long as I can.

I change the way I talk when I’m exclusively around adults,and since that is not often, I find myself wincing when I say things I used toalways say, like “that sucks” or “frickin” or various other soft swear(ish)words. (Call it potty talk… boo-ya!) Who wants a two year-old yelling that hewants his frickin’ train at a playdate? Talk about wilting in embarrassment. Thealternative to this is pausing and silently mouthing, when appropriate, a swear wordwhile talking to a mommy friend and slicing hot dogs and serving mac and cheeseto the wee ones. If you don’t, mark my words, they will hear whatever word itis and repeat it, as they do with most new words they hear. Should this happen,whatever you do, don’t freak out and tell your kid to never say that word, itis not a nice word, blah, blah, blah. If your kid is anything like mine, theywill enjoy the reaction and try the word out over and over and you’ll feel you’vepaid your penance and then some. Not that I know from experience.

I am going to try to tone down the “going potty” and try outthe “going to the bathroom” approach to see what happens now that my boys haveno doubt in their minds what happens in a bathroom, and continue to keep thepotty talk on hold. What’s the opposite of a potty-mouth? Flower-mouth? I’llkeep trying to be that.

Thursday Thesicle

2011-11-30T10:19:00.001-05:00

British Royal Guards are even more formidable while sporting Christmas aprons and bearing whisks.

First Annual Gingerbread Marathon Disclaimer

2011-11-30T07:02:00.001-05:00

Eight years ago I baked gingerbread for the first time. Ifound the recipe online and scratched it onto a pad of paper. My boyfriend andI spent hours decorating our house, complete with a basketball hoop in thedriveway. The following Christmas we were engaged and we invited a few peopleover to my apartment to build gingerbread houses together. It was a hit andthat was our first annual gingerbread house building party. We have since movedit to my in-laws’ house and I am now preparing for our seventh annualgingerbread party. As I do so, I must explain my sluggish blogging to my readersin my first annual gingerbread baking marathon disclaimer: I will most likelynot be posting very many times over the next two weeks.

vision of my future for the next two weeks

The gingerbread party has grown substantially in the pastyears and now a bunch of our friends have kids and quite a few of our friendshave made the party a holiday tradition— which is super cool! The not-so-super-cool part of the holiday tradition is that the number of guests require a lot of gingerbreadbaking hours for me. It took a long time even before I was a mom, but thisyear, with two eager helpers/constant interrupters I’m allowing a little moretime than I usually do, in hopes that it won’t stress me out. I typically throwon my Santa apron, crank up Delilah and all her sappy Christmas stories, andstay up late, just me and the rolling pin in a kitchen that smells heavenly. It's a big time commitment, but I love to see our friends and family create houses and gingerbread people. Well, and I love to create them myself. This year I'm considering building a baseball field. Themarathon is beginning.

And so, I leave you all with a history in pictures of ourgingerbread party.

Our first gingerbread experiment (notice basketball hoop)

My friend Sarah's house at our first annual party

My barnyard explosion at our third annual

a quaint cabin, third annual

Santa's wrecked sleigh and dead reindeer, fifth annual

castle, fifth annual

Jamie and me and our Elf, fifth annual

the night before...Aaron's chili and my gingerbread

drawbridge to my castle, fifth annual

Cal tastes gingerbread for the sixth annual

gingerbread in waiting

African safari, sixth annual

train #1, sixth annual

my train, sixth annual

my church, fourth annual

Jim and Vania's church, fourth annual

snowmen roasting s'mores, fourth annual

the Castaway and Wilson, fourth annual

I couldn't find any from our second annual party. When I do I will add them in. Happy Wednesday!

Thanksgiving Thursday Thesicle

2011-11-23T21:46:00.001-05:00

Blue fizzy bath tablet + Yellow fizzy bath tablet = Green explosion of fun!

Thanksgiving's Thanks

2011-11-23T11:33:00.001-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

In addition to Cal and Clark's thankfulness today, I thought I'd post some of my own. I am immensely thankful for so much in my life. I have been and continue to be blessed in so many ways that I can't even count them all, so I'm including only a few of the reasons to be grateful that I have recently been reminded of.

Cal's vision and health in his right eye. We had a huge scare last week that involved another exam under anesthesia and a located corneal ulcer, which could have caused him to go blind in as little as 24 hours. Thank God that we took him in when we did.
That my recent seizure came and went with none of the three kids getting hurt.
My friends Aimee and Angela who stop everything to help me in my occasional helpless states. Aimee rushed over to watch the kids so I could take Clark to the ER after his rocking horse accident, and Angela took us all in to the doctor on Monday when Cal had his eye problem. She watched Clark for hours while I was with Cal.
My husband Brian for taking care of all of our family's many needs that involve driving and fetching and returning and hauling and waiting.
That my boys are old enough to do arts and crafts like this one from earlier this week. Also, few weeks ago they did a turkey handprint craft that took a long time and involved Clark claiming he was going to run away. I plan to cure his craft apathy.
My readers!

Cal and Clark's Thanksgiving Day Thanks:

Cal: "[I'm thankful for] baths. You sometimes get out and get warm and dry and get clothes on."
Clark: "I'm thankful for trucks. I like to vacuum with them."

Handprint turkeys for Grandma and Papa. Notice Clark's ambiguous stare.

Wednesday's Thanks

2011-11-23T08:14:00.001-05:00

Cal: "I'm thankful for my bunkbed. Mommy made it for you (read me). She put cars on it and Daddy put little tiny pieces of wood on it."

Clark: [I'm thankful for] "baseball. I love baseball and football and hockey and tennis and golf and baseball and football and (while swinging souvenir bat) hitting."

Tuesday's Thanks

2011-11-22T10:05:00.001-05:00

Cal: "I'm thankful for music."
Me: "What kind of music?"
Cal: "Instrumental music. I love to sleep with it on."

Clark: "I'm thankful for Jimmy Buffet and Dan Zanes. And Grandma and Papa. I love those guys."

Popcorn Pond

2011-11-21T13:16:00.001-05:00

I love Reston. Maybe it’s a silly fake town, but it’s a good silly fake town. The boys and I took time a couple weeks ago to visit a pond we always see part of as we walk past. It turns out there are aseveral ponds back there in the trees, and they’re more of a planned andmaintained veritable wetland biome than just a couple ponds. The first time we were there theboys loved the white pebbles on the paths around the ponds and so over and overthey brought me handfuls of the pebbles that they called popcorn and Ipretended to gobble them up and let them spill down my front. Since then we’vebeen back a couple times and the boys have dubbed the whole area Popcorn Pond.

Last weekend we took stale bread out in search of ducks atPopcorn Pond. It took us awhile, but when we found the third pond, whichincludes an island and a bridge to the island, we found several pairs of woodducks. They ate our bread after a little coaxing. It was a beautiful day and Ikept wishing I knew more science-y things to teach the boys as we walkedaround. They loved the cattails and loved letting the wind carry the seeds intheir fuzzy airplanes all around the blue sky. There were stones with Walt Whitman and WilliamCullen Bryant verses on them. And this is all, as they say, a stone’s throwfrom our house. What a fun surprise!

The boys said they wanted to feed ducks like a boy in their book feeds ducks.

One of the Popcorn Pond ponds

Checking out a cattail

Fly, seeds, fly!

Introducing cattails to the popcorn pebbles

We found pond #3!

Don't eat the berries...

Good one, Walt

In the middle of the third pond is an island with a bridge!

And ducks to eat our bread!

William Cullen Bryant

leaving the island

Many discoveries among the leaves

Big weird, Reston-y gazebo

looks a little like a temple...

leaving the ponds

heading home after a great morning exploration

Monday's Thanks

2011-11-21T12:59:00.001-05:00

Since it's Thanksgiving week I want to post every day with something we're thankful for. So here is today's gratitude, Cal and Clark style:

Me: "What are you thankful for?" (insert various descriptions, examples, etc)

Clark: "I'm thankful for Gammy and Poppy. I want them to be orange. And pink."

Cal: "[I'm thankful for] batteries. I want to put them in the computer."

The Triumph of My Inner Scavenger

2011-11-18T20:08:00.001-05:00

I have a bad habit of eating like a garbage disposal. Itmakes perfect sense, waste-wise. It’s a natural chain of events— a simple formula:

whatIcookfortheboys- whattheydon’teat = easymealsforme

I’m a scavenger— a step above the decomposer in the foodchain of our family. It hasn’t always been this way with the boys, of course. Iwasn’t tempted to lick the crusty pureed squash and sweet potatoes hardened ontheir bibs or the applesauce and rice cereal splattered on the walls. But whenthey started eating solid food, slowly my natural waste-not, want-not (lazy)instincts took over. Now it’s gotten to the point where I avoid thinking backon what I’ve consumed over the course of the day because it grosses me out. It’salso hard to keep an accurate tally of the actual amounts. (Does the wide girthof Clark’s grilled cheese corners together with Cal’s meager corners girth equal a quarter or a half of a sandwich? Did I eatthose raisins I found on the floor, or did I throw them out? How many spoonfulsof peas did I eat while dramatically illustrating how delicious they are? Did Ieat that whole bowl of trail mix eventhough the nuts were chewy, or eat everything except the nuts?) It’s not uncommon, for example, to have my day ofcaloric intake look something like this:

coffee that Ireheated ten times
a spoonful of warm, cheesy scrambled eggs
hours-old, matte scrambled egg crumbs from bowl and pan perimeters
the gooey, blackening bottoms of the bananas stuck insidethe peel
a really big crumb of bacon (why is bacon so good?) that landed on the windowsill
two pieces of bacon
two warm, squishy string cheese handles and countless spiderystring cheese whiskers
giant macaroni andcheese clots that didn’t squish into the Tupperware
slightly browned apple slices (immaculately peeled) from thechairs
cookies that were just sittingthere in the way of everything
a whole pear because Clark threw it and was it going tobruise anyway
two more pieces of bacon that were sitting around for bacon bits in a salad
all washed down with a sippy cup of diluted V8 Fusionbecause Cal didn’t want it after I told him there were veggies in it

Wow, that looks really grim on paper. Yikes.

Then when Brian comes home I’ll eat a salad, a whole turkeyburger, drink a glass of wine, and automatically, in a happy coma that only comes from eating normal portions of real food, reachfor the boys’ untouched turkey burger chunks. But Brian will swoop in, an advantageouscarnivorous predator, and ferociously devour the chunks and I’ll blink out ofmy numbed scavenger stare and thank him.

I’m better than this. Right? Maybe not.

I've wondered about extremely harried days, when I have no normaldinner plan. What if I saved up all the sandwich corners, slightly burned toast,piles of untouched vegetables, partially nibbled pretzel stubs, and weird-shapedchicken nuggets with bits of blue sauce (This is Brian’s trick— ranch dressingwith blue food coloring. It’s all the boys want to dip food in these days.), andpresented them to Brian, stacked on a nice platter, in low lighting, after acouple beers, in front of a football game? This would prevent any outside dinnerpreparations by either of us, which could free up valuable time. Maybe I could squeeze in a run and a shower. Of course, I’d have to either starve myself allday in order to accumulate crumbs and crusts for him or else fix a real breakfast andlunch for myself. Hm.

On the other hand, I could make my own full, normal-person breakfast and lunch, taking time away from doing awesome things with the boys, and try to throw out the boys' leftovers. Or I could put them in the fridge, but the truth is, none of it would get touched if it were stuck in the fridge. It's too nasty. And knowing that the food would be wasted in the fridge as well as in the garbage, my inner scavenger can't let much slide. The true travesty would be if I made myself real food and ate all the crumbs and crusts. That would be a disaster on the scale.

I've added it all up. Certainly, my friends, you see why I stick to the crumbs. It’snot a pretty picture. But it works for now.

My inner scavenger has spoken.

Dinner is scavenged

Thursday Thesicle

2011-11-16T22:50:00.001-05:00

Even though the toddler distracts you, don't stir the pan of melting butter with a plastic teaspoon.

Reader Love-Fest

2011-11-16T15:39:00.001-05:00

Well, here’s my new look, at least for now. The awesome banner is from anartist I’ve never met, but who spent her freshman year of college doing what Idid for eight years: sharing a room with my little sister. Thank you, Kristin! Someoneasked me yesterday, after reading of my upcoming changes, if I had hired adesigner to redo my blog, which is when I realized that the “big changes”really aren’t that big at all, except in my head. I’m simply thrilled to have a personalizedbanner instead of a pink rectangle. Not that the rectangle didn’t serve me wellfor quite some time. A new slogan may be on its way, and another backgroundchange and banner-tweaking as well.

But, and more importantly, welcome to my reader love-fest.

People don’t all write in order to be read, but it sure isgreat to have people not only read your writing but read it and like it, and keep reading more. It also doesn’t hurt that I somehow was blessedwith two hilarious little boys.

When I started this blog last February I wasn’t sure whowould read it beyond my long-distance relatives who didn’t get to see the kidsoften. Myself late at night. People who typed ceiling fan or poop intoa search engine. Friends who felt obligated. Quickly I had friends reading itjust for kicks and then when I went all official on Facebook, I got a lot ofpage views and it seemed I was getting compliments on it frequently when I raninto people I didn’t normally see. Now and then I hear about random, namelesspeople reading it, such as when my parents tell me when they talk to me on thephone that they ran into, “…Oh, who was it? Someone the other day down atFloyd’s…anyway, they said they just love reading your blog.” If you’re readingthis and have ever run into my parents down at Floyd’s, it may be you. Thanksfor reading. Then I hear about people I’ve never met or met once and they enjoyreading it. To be possibly over-the-top weepy about it, it makes my day when Ihear that my sometimes-infuriating, usually-crazy, diaper-filled lifeentertains others.

I soon found out that writing this blog is therapeutic.Honestly, it is hard to find time to sit down and post, but it is helpful tothink, as I’m cleaning up vomit every 10 minutes, or watching furiously as theboys drop everything they own off our third floor balcony, or fishing a toycrocodile out of the toilet, or receiving questionable comments from strangers,that I can sit down and face the situation, in a sarcastic, yet head-onway for the amusement of others. Blogging has also given me a platform to write about more serious issues such as my epilepsy and Cal's PHPV.

So I thought I’d give a shout-out here to some of the mostdedicated readers, at least the ones I know about: My friend Margo has to comefirst. (Note: After this there is no ranking order, it is simply whoever pops intomy head as I write.) Margo is the one who excitedly texts nearly every time Iblog or reminds me that it’s a Thursday and I need to post a Thursday Thesicleor just plain reminds me that she needs a post. When she doesn’t respond Iusually know my post sucks. Carrie also usually gives an immediate response andeven advice on the topic. Missy and Jason, and even some of their parents I’mtold, like to read and let me know of their interest, and may I be so bold as to say, love.

Enthusiastic Reader Uncle Jeff

My Uncle Jeff,on our recent Ocean City whirlwind weekend was telling me that he and Aunt Janelike to read it. He also was incessantly mugging for shots in case I wanted touse them on the blog. Here you go, Uncle Jeff. I’ve had people, such as myfriend Becky, tell me that it’s probably not fair to me, because she feels allcaught up on what’s going on in my life because of my blog, but I know nothingof her recent goings-on. I agree. Call me up, Becky! My husband Brian hasalways been an encouragement and a devoted reader in my blogging, as have my sister Crystal, brother Aaron, and my Aunt Anne. Myparents check in on the blog often and my Aunt Lynda, who is actually somethingof a once-removed something-or-other often reads and tells me she likes it. Ithink Jessie, who I grew up down the gravel road from, was my first official follower and has always been supportive.

Rachel V. in Oregon, whom I’ve known since my summers of working on the University of Idaho paint crew is an avid readerand is helpful in all things mommy. There is Rachel F. in Arizona, who I knowfrom a cubicle away during my curriculum-writing days, and who was influentialin encouraging me to begin this blog in the first place, is full ofcompliments. Hattie from college often comments on here and Facebook “likes” myposts. Clover, also someone I grew up close to, and who admits that I am thelittle sister she never wanted because of the shenanigans her little sister andI pulled around her house, has been complimentary of my anecdotes about my boys.Her mom, Barb, is also a reader and has the distinguished honor of being mySecond Mom, and also as having influenced my writing. My friend Karen has been a critical reader of my writing, on this blog as well as of my rough, partial-manuscript for my novel. Amanda, in Boise, the city of my heart, I think is in love with myboys though she’s never met them and I haven’t even seen her since somewherearound 1998. David, also in Boise, is a regular reader and one of my two official male followers. (I need more!) The other isRob, who, together with his wife Jasmine, are also regular readers. My boyshave play dates with their son quite often. Aimee and Angela usually read myposts even though they have a good idea of what’s going on in my life sincethey live a couple blocks away and are over all the time.

Here I go again with the borderline weepiness, but you guysseriously keep me writing. Don’t think your comments go unnoticed. Thank you. Iknow I’ve skipped some of you, because I’m not real great in the memorydepartment, and because I’m trying to get this post done before the boys wakeup, but know that I love your feedback and your readership.

Here ends my written love-fest, but the sentiment lives on.Thank you, readers! Much love.

Versatile Blogger Award

2011-11-15T17:10:00.001-05:00

This is embarrassing. I realized after my last post that itwas in fact my 98^th post, not my 99^th post. I’ve neverbeen good with numbers. Awk. Ward. So,here is my 99^th post in all its splendid normalcy.

I was nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award by blogger Dr. Marissa of Land of Once Upon A Time, a blog I love to read for all her great literacy adviceand information. I am honored that she reads and enjoys my blog! The award is an informal one between bloggers, and from what I've seen it is a pretty cool way to let other bloggers know you enjoy their writing, and also a great way to network. I couldn't find anything about the origins of the award, but I found the rules. Herethey are:

1. Thankand link back to the blogger who nominated you. (Land of Once Upon A Time)

2. Shareseven random facts about yourself.

3. Passon the award to other blogs you enjoy.

4. Contactand congratulate the bloggers you’re nominating.

I saw the number 15 thrown around as the number of blogs tonominate, but alas, I don’t even know 15 different blogs and I can’t pretend toknow and appreciate their writers enough to nominate them for anything. InsteadI’m being honest and writing about five blogs I enjoy reading. But first hereare my seven random facts:

1. I dislike gelato.

2. My maiden last name, Stuvland, is a town inNorway, which is next to the town my ancestors came from (a lot of other peopleemigrating from Norway took the last name of the big town, so my ancestorsdecided to take the name of the neighboring, small town that may or may nottechnically exist anymore).

3. I have an irrational fear of those big grates andvents on sidewalks (the ones where you can see down to the trash and stagnantwater and mice and quite possibly Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) and will dojust about anything to avoid walking over them.

4. I can’t drive because of my epilepsy: 4b. I’vehad seizures in the middle of the street, at bus stops, in the bathroom, whiledriving my car twice (link), while being a passenger in cars, and I think aboutthree times in kitchen/dining rooms. How am I still alive?

5. I have no problem not finishing books I start ifthey bore/annoy/frustrate/me. I no longer have time to finish books onprinciple. I’m in my 30s, people.

6. I find it difficult to eat peanut butter withoutdrinking milk.

7. I bought a one-way ticket to Washington D.C.from Idaho with no job and two bulging suitcases when I was 23. Things seem tohave worked out okay.

The blogs I am nominating for their downrightawesomeness are:

NOVA Mom Blog: A Lifestyle blog about living in the NorthernVirginia area (I just found out I live down the street from her!)

Deborah Halverson’s Blog: A writer who has triplets and great insight on writing and raising multiples

Sweet Baker’s Delight: My friend who loves to bake amazing treats and take amazing pictures of them

Restonian: Funny, funny, satirical writer who keeps it real here in Reston

Pink Dryer Lint: Writer with three girls and heartwarmingtales of motherhood

Thank you again to Land of Once Upon A Time for her nomination and stay tuned for my true 100th post.

A Foot of Change

2011-11-11T23:15:00.001-05:00

Change is afoot. Or a leg. Or maybe just an enflamed left ankle.Right now as I prop my legs and ankles up under ice packs it seems like changeblankets all of my lower extremities. Three weeks ago I started running againafter not running much at all since before that horribly cold day in 2002 whenI broke a bunch of bones in a car accident. The doctors thought I probablywouldn’t be able to run again on my left ankle—that the bones would probablyhave to be fused. I would be able to walk passably, but not run, they told me. Thatall made sense, considering I had at that point a freshly inserted titanium rod from my right knee to myankle, several screws in my left ankle, and screws and plates in my wrist. (No,I don’t run with my wrist like a monkey, I threw that other hardware factoid infor effect) Well, the doctors were wrong. I didn’t need any bones in my anklefused. I didn’t even need the bone graft they thought I would need in that ankle.They saved the bone grafting for my leg and wrist with bones from my hips. I strongly urge you to never need a bone graft.

Back then, just being pushed on a walk wore me out.

But I ~~hated runningwith a burning passion of a thousand suns~~, didn’t care for running, andbecause it’s been painful to run the past ten years I haven’t pushed it. I didn’tneed any encouragement not to run. I’ll do workout DVDs while the boys nap andgo to the little gym at our condo clubhouse—spend some time on the elliptical machineor with the weights. I’ve belonged toother gyms over the past years and kept myself in passable shape until I gotpregnant. It’s kind of been a blur since then. My workouts were reduced to carryinggrowing infants up three flights of stairs and squatting to wipe up various body fluids. I’ve tried to work out and ~~I’ve kept from becoming a fat lard~~ done a decentenough job, but nothing like what I should be doing. For some reason a fewweeks ago Brian and I both decided to start running again. It’s just so easy. I mean, no machines, no gym, nogear, just you and the ground. And wherever you are you can find ground. So I’vebeen running mostly outside on a route I really like, but a few times on a treadmill at our gym. I’mhonestly shocked. I’m enjoying it. And the titanium inside me is not falling out or breaking like I always imagined it might. The first time on the treadmill was one ofthe first times I ran and I was SLOW. But tonight I picked up my speed and ranthree miles, and only partially because I was watching Harry Potter and the Chamberof Secrets and I wanted to keep watching it. I also felt good. So that’s one change: I’m running. And oddly, I like it.

Change number two: The boys are in bunk beds. That’s right.We bunked ‘em up. So far no one has fallen off with the exception of stuffedanimals and books. It’s a little like crib on the top because they haven’tfigured out how to climb down. The top-bunker is trapped. If only the bottom-bunkercould be too. The problem is that Cal is on the top bunk and he loves to shoutorders to Clark. So Clark runs around the room, picking up certain books,pulling the CD player over, shooting basketballs, playing with the night lightturtle, putting weird things in his mouth, all things that Cal tells him to doand then laughs at. They haven’t come close to falling asleep on their bunkbeds for nap time; we still have to separate them, one on our bed, one on thetop bunk bed. It’s obnoxious. But at bedtime they fall asleep fine. There’ssomething about the darkness I guess. No toys crying at you to be played with.

The bunkers

Change number three: I traded the small lamp in the livingroom with the big lamp on our nightstand. Lighting has slightly improved.

Grand finale of changes: My next post will be my 100^thpost on this blog, and to celebrate I am going to be introducing some big andsuper cool changes to the layout. I know that all you devoted Whispers and Shouts fanswill be waiting with bated breath until I post next and the awesomeness spillsforth. On my 100^th post I plan to make it a love fest to you— my dearreaders— and at the same time unveil the new look that is being custom-made forme by an awesome artist.

Change is afoot! And now I can't feel my foot from all the ice packs.

Thursday Thesicle

2011-11-10T09:11:00.000-05:00

Some leaves are bigger than your face!