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Showing posts from January, 2008

Everything's a Competition

Recently, whenever Mallory is reprimanded or denied something she wants, she zings back with this cutting retort:

“Well, I’m going to have more funner than you at school!”

Seriously. “Mallory, please don’t push your sister.”

“Well, I’m going to have more funner than you at school!”

Or, “No, you can’t have a piece of candy, it’s almost dinner time.”

“Well, I’m going to have more funner than you at school!”

Once she was arguing with Chris about something, and doing so a bit ineptly, and Chris said, “Mallory, you’re not even making sense.” And sure enough, here it came:

“Well, I’m going to have more funner than you at school!” Then she added, “What do you say about THAT?”

It’s funny, and it’s ridiculous, and it’s a bit poignant, as well. Poor child, she’s only six, she has so little control over her life. All she has going for her is that she gets to go to kindergarten, and I suppose that I’m glad that she perceives school as “funner” than anything the rest of us get to do.

She had to turn in a…

The tree jumped out at me, I swear!

It was just a matter of time, really, before I ran into a tree at my in-law's house. They have a long, narrow, snaky driveway that is lined by trees on both sides. Mostly I try to NOT go in reverse in their driveway at all. Last night I didn't have a choice, and my number came up.

I heard the crunch, and then I heard what sounded like raindrops -- a tinkling noise coming from the rear of the car. I thought, okay, I hit a tree, and now things -- pine cones? acorns? squirrels? -- are falling out of the tree onto my car. I raised my head and looked back, to discover that 1) yes, I HAD hit a tree and 2) the things that were falling were pieces of my shattered back windshield.

My sister-in-law, Amy, was with me; we got out, surveyed the damage, and then went into the house to tell Chris. "You're back so soon?" my mother-in-law asked when we walked through the door. Amy mouthed the words, "Krista hit a tree." Mallory, who was ACROSS THE ROOM, somehow deciphered…

Friday

I signed Phoebe up for preschool today. Phoebe! Preschool! Impossible! And yet it's not, she'll start in the fall. If, that is, she's potty-trained. So far she's been pretty adamant about NOT using the potty and NOT wearing underwear and NOT being a big girl. Luckily, we have seven months to work on that.

Other parents in my community camped out last night to ensure that their children would get preschool slot for the fall. For the record, it was 19 degrees here last night. Also for the record, these parents are crazy. And also, too many people are moving to my community. Go away, we're full!

Mallory's tooth was so loose last night that she was swiveling it around with her tongue. We suggested that she pull it so that she didn't swallow it during the night, and she commenced screaming and thrashing because it would hurt, it would hurt so badly! Amidst all the screaming the tooth fell out unassisted. Whew. So now she's adorably gap-toothed. And a dollar r…

All Gone

Oh hey, did you notice they wallpaper in the pictures from my last post?

GONE! If all goes well we'll start painting this weekend.

Oh, and Mallory's left front tooth?

GONE! And the other one is barely hanging on.

More photos as events warrant or toothless child cooperates.

The pickiness does not extend to brownie batter

Everyone's a Critic

Me: I rented a movie for tonight.

Chris: Oh yeah? Which one?

Me: Once.

Chris: Once? I've never heard of it.

Me: It's supposed to be really good, it was on a lot of Top 10 lists for the year.

Chris: But what's it about?

Me: It's kind of a musical.

Chris: A musical?

Me: Yeah. And it's Irish.

Chris: Uh-huh.

Me: Or maybe Scottish.

Chris: Like that will make a difference.

Me: Oh, who knows, you make like it. Anyway, maybe the weather will clear up and we can go see a real movie tonight...I'd like to see Atonement. Or Juno.

Chris: How about Cloverfield?

Me: Ugh, no. I heard a review on NPR last night, they said it was awful.

Chris: Well, NPR can be kind of snooty in their movie reviews.

Me: NPR liked Once.

Chris: I rest my case.

Thirty-what?

After I turned 30, I started having trouble remembering how old I was, because really, once you're 30, who cares anymore? And all this year, anytime I had to think about my exact age, I'd think -- "I'm 35, right? Am I? Oh my God, maybe I'm 36! No, I can't be 36, that seems so OLD! Let me do the math -- 1972, oh, good, I AM still 35."

The other night Mallory asked me how old I was going to be on my birthday. I almost said, "Thirty-seven," and then I freaked out, internally. Thirty-seven is so OLD! I can't possible by thirty-seven...oh wait, I'm not. I'm only going to be 36! What a relief!

The mind, it does play wonderful tricks.

So yes, I'll be 36. Tomorrow, and all year long. And as they say, the only thing worse than getting older is not getting older, so I'll take it.

Plus, there will be cake. And who doesn't like cake?

How they get you

Last night my children would not go to sleep. They shrieked, they giggled, they flailed, they told knock-knock jokes (badly), they whispered, they jumped around, but fall asleep they did not. After over an hour of unsuccessfully alternating between reprimanding, cajoling, threatening, and pleading, I stormed out of their bedroom and said, "I'm DONE! It's your turn!" to Chris.

Chris went in and sat down on Phoebe's bed. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and said, "Mommy's really mad at me."

"She is?" Chris said.

"Yeah, and I'm really sad about it," she said.

After hearing this pathetic little exchange, guess who went back in the bedroom. Me, of course.

I'm such a sucker.

Telling it like it is

This morning, while looking at a book of princess stories, Phoebe said, "Mommy, I see Snow White!"

"You do?" I said. "Is she with the seven dwarves?"

"No," Phoebe said, "she with the Wicked Bitch."

Picky, picky

A few years ago, when Mallory was still very small and I still thought I knew what I was doing as a parent, I came across a parenting advice column in which the advice seeker was concerned that her toddler wouldn’t eat meat. I don’t remember the details of the answer, except that the parent was advised to try bacon as an alternate meat source.

Bacon! I was full of derision for this ridiculous advice. Bacon is one of the worst-for-you foods on earth! What a dumb thing to say! Bacon for a toddler!

Would you now care to guess the only kind of meat my 2-year-old will eat? Yeah. Bacon.

I feel that I have failed, in some real way, in the area of proper feeding and nutrition for both my kids. That Deceptively Delicious book? Where you sneakily add pureed vegetables to your kids’ food? A total failure in my house because my kids won’t anything that you could conceivably add a puree to. Macaroni and cheese – no. Tacos – no. Soup – no. Chili – no. My kids will not eat pizza. Pizza! Everyone on ea…
(Mom, you may want to skip this post until you’ve read all three books.)

So here is my slap-dash review of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials books. In brief, I loved them, I thought they were great. (The Golden Compass is the best of the series, I think.) Altogether a satisfactory reading experience, all highly recommended.

I read these books specifically because they’ve been banned from my daughter’s school library for being “anti-religious.” I am considering writing a letter to the school in the books’ defense, in part because I don’t agree with banning books, and in part because the charges against the book are, I believe, way overblown.

That’s partly because the “rebellion against god” storyline is, in my opinion, the weakest and least interesting part of the book; every time the scene switched to Lord Asriel’s fortress I was immediately bored. Maybe it was because I was bored, but parts of it didn’t even make sense to me – storylines were dropped or wrapped up too abruptly, and th…

2007 in Review

And we're back

Mallory wrote this report, unassisted, about her Christmas vacation:

The plan ez fieg. (The plane is flying.)

The plan ez cekg ef. (The plane is taking off.)

I like the plan. (I like the plane.)

First, it’s just adorable that she’s composing her own sentences now and I love her rudimentary grasp of phonics. Second, her last sentence is a complete lie. She does not, in fact, like the plane, and may never, of her own volition, get on a plane again in her lifetime. To the cosmic forces that aligned to give this child, who has had a year-long and seemingly irrational fear of flying because it might cause ear pain, a double ear infection the very day we left: You suck. To the cosmic forces that additionally caused the wrong antibiotic to be prescribed so that she still had the ear infection the day we came home: You also suck. To the woman in the row ahead of us on the plane from Houston who kept rolling her eyes and making comments about this child when she cried because her eardrum was gett…