Always Remember That

As part of a Social Studies project that has overtaken our lives, Mallory is conducting a tour of cupcake bakeries in the Triangle area. The research involved in this project, as you will imagine, has been quite tasty. Yesterday we went to Chapel Hill to visit Sugarland, a bakery featured on Food network which also happens to be right across the street from where Chris and I first met. Chris and I kept mentioning this kind of thing -- This is the restaurant we ate at on our first date! This is where I'd pick your mom up after class! Our first apartment was right down that street! -- and each time the girls would say, "Ewwww!" It's unclear why details of our past life disgust them so greatly. "If your daddy and I had never met, and had never dated, you wouldn't have been born," I've said numerous times. Mallory, however, seems to find the whole concept of dating very unpleasant, and I think Phoebe just doesn't like to contemplate a world before ...

I'm posting this picture because I like the way my hair looks: And this one to show that good hair is temporary, but the cuteness of Phoebe is not: And this one to thank my husband for hanging out with the girls at Girl Scout Family Fun Day while I manned the "Time Capsule Signature" Station: And this one because I like it:

The thing is, without my blog, how will I remember that the other day, Phoebe said something about a desperate housewife, and Mallory said she bet that Phoebe didn't even know what a housewife was, and Phoebe said, "You're right...but I think it's someone who's always grumpy." And I don't want to forget, either, that recently Phoebe has started to say, "I love you as much as a pickle!" And then a few days ago she raced to the bathroom shouting, "I need to pee as much as a pickle!" and slammed the door. A few seconds later the door opened and she poked her head out and said, "There I go again with the pickles!" And -- Mallory has to do a report on a famous North Carolinian, but her first choice -- Virginia Dare -- was taken by another kid in her class. She was working on some other homework and asked me to look up some other possibilities for her. I googled and discovered that Betsy Byars was born in Charlotte. "You c...

It's an odd thing, not wanting to give up one's blog but also never really feeling like updating it. Anyway, I'll take the easy way out and highlight the past few weeks of our lives in pictures: Phoebe. Is there anything funnier than a Phoebe? Above she is dressed up for her half-birthday at school (since she's a summer baby). (She did, in the end, decide not to wear the hat.) Every outfit, every clothing changed is thought out with precision detail. Where she gets her fashionista tendencies I do not know. A few weekends ago she suddenly announced that if I did not get her a pair of jean shorts she would just die. This was alarming, but since we had to go shopping anyway, I said I'd see what we could find. Luckily we found some on sale. She has taken them off only to go to school --she wears them to bed! -- and she thinks they look best when she wears them with a skirt-shirt, as shown: ...and is frustrated by the fact that she mostly has skorts, which cann...

Because I have all the time in the world and unlimited patience, I want to make this: The flowery one on top, not the stripy one on the bottom. Even though I've never crocheted anything larger than a scarf, and I only made the scarf this weekend, and before that I'd never crocheted anything larger than a cell phone case. Even though this afghan is made of two-hundred and twelve separate blocks that would have to be stitched together, and my least favorite thing about crocheting is stitching pieces together. Even though I don't need another blanket in my house, I have plenty. Even though I'm afraid I'm going to become a crazy crochet lady who keeps making things that nobody needs and foisting them on people. Here, have a scarf! Have an afghan! Have some booties! People will tire of me. If I'm going to make an afghan, having never made one before, it would be smart to start with something easier: or at least with something smaller: But what if I hate ...

No, not like that: I am way behind here. I don't think I ever posted about Mallory's birthday, and I had some thoughts about Christmas decorations which I guess I'll save until next year, and I should tell you about the fab time I had with my family last week, but instead I'll just sum up 2011. Best Books Read: There But For The by Ali Smith Chime by Franny Billingsley The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan The Boy in the Moon by Ian Brown Please Look After Mom by Kyung-Sook Shin Worst Books Read: Obedience by Will Lavender The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown Sister by Rosamund Lupton The Sherlockian by Graham Moore Best Movie: Bridesmaids Fave TV show: Modern Family; also Prime Suspect but I think they're taking it off the air Proud of myself for: Teaching myself how to crochet Losing 10 pounds between Thanksgiving and Christmas (now need new pants) Best new experience: Riding a Segway with Aimee through downtown Charlotte New places travel...

A few weeks ago I sorted through the girls' books and set aside some to donate. I put them in a Bruegger's Bagels bag because it was big and sturdy and had big sturdy handles. Naturally, the bag has been sitting in our hallway ever since. Phoebe noticed it last Saturday. "Mommy, why is there a Wubbzy book in this bag?" she asked. "Because those are books I'm going to donate," I said. "To the poor?" she asked. "Yes." "I don't think that's a good idea," she said. I was about to launch into a lecture about how she had too much and other children had too little and she hadn't read any of those books for ages and -- But then she added, "Because if the poor children see this bagel bag, it's just going to make them hungry." ---------------------- Twenty-five people were laid off from my office yesterday. Luckily I was not one of them, although there were a few tense moments when I thought...

you will be after watching this. My only regret is that this version does not have Beeker singing the nine ladies dancing part. That cracks me and Phoebe right up.

Last night Mallory asked me to carry her. "Carry you?" I said. "I haven't been able to carry you for many years." "But you said you always would, no matter what," she said. "When did I say that?" "On your blog," she said. I guess she read this . Which, in spite of its schmaltziness, is one of my favorite posts. I can't believe that was 5 years ago. I can't believe that Phoebe is older now that Mallory was then. I can't believe that I thought five was old . I can't believe I didn't factor 4th grade social studies into the equation. She's ten, my beautiful, goofy, kind-hearted, generous, bright and funny little girl. If I'm a bit sad today that she's growing up so fast, I'm consoled by the fact that I'm the one who gets to be there with her while she does. Happy Birthday!

Went to the grocery store today; glanced at my receipt on the way out and saw that, through my store's Loyalty Card scheme, I have saved $436 on groceries this year. And it occurred to me to wish that they gave you an option -- you could either save this money on your purchases throughout the year, OR, you can pay full price for your groceries, but then get a rebate check for the amount you WOULD have saved at the end of the year. Would that be awesome or what? Paying $10 extra per grocery trip wouldn't be that bad if I could get a $500 check around Christmastime. Teachers should be disallowed from giving two major tests in one week, especially when one of the students is so excited about her upcoming birthday that she can barely breathe. (Studying for a 4th grade science test is just as exciting at age 39 as it was at age 9 (in other words, not). Mallory always manages to lighten things up though. She gave this example of a food chain: "Grass...hamburger...me...a shark!...

A mother who taught me the importance of a homemade pie crust, and a father who perfected the art of applying vanilla ice cream to a piece of pie. Streusel topping for when the top crust just doesn't come together. A daughter who loves to bake, who's almost old enough to bake things by herself, but who still asks questions like, "This says I need three-slash-four cups of sugar...how much is three-slash-four?" Another daughter who is finally old enough to play games that require reading, but who is still young enough to say "cimmanon" and "bekfrast." A job to go to, even when I have to go there the day before Thanksgiving. A house to live in, no matter how messy. The internet, so I don't have to go shopping for reals tomorrow. In-laws who have always welcomed me with open arms, and who gave me the job of making desserts, rather than vegetables, for Thanksgiving dinner. Two sisters and a brother who feel close even when we're far apar...

We got a blue beta fish last night at petco. Did you know that NONE of the fish were dead? We prayed on the way over there for all of the fish to be healthy and God preformed a miracle! Mallory came up with the name Blue Berry Kemple. She is reading him a story now. She is very happy.Happy Birthday Mallory! [This post was written by Mallory]

So I've been hunting around on online recipe websites for some Thanksgiving inspiration. I love being able to search for recipes online and am thinking about doing away with cookbooks altogether. I really like the reviews that most sites have - it's useful when someone comments that, for example, the recipe called for 1 TBSP of salt when it should be 1 TSP, or that someone else substituted chicken thighs for chicken breasts and the recipe still turned out delicious. But. It drives me nuts when someone gives a recipe a bad rating and then says: This recipe was terrible! It was so bland! I left out the garlic and onion because I don't like those, and it had no flavor at all. Plus I left out the cheese and sour cream to save on fat but cooked it as directed and it got really dried out! Well, guess what, you didn't really make this recipe. You changed the recipe, and it turned out terrible, but that's not the recipe's fault. This kind of thing is even worse: ...

I don't pretend to know anything about how government works, but this is what I'm picturing in my head about the supercommittee meetings: Democrats: We need to raise taxes on the wealthy. Republicans: No. Democrats: But [list reasons, some of them valid, why this is a good idea]. Republicans: No. [Break for lunch] Republicans: We need to cut entitlements. Democrats: No. Republicans: But [list reasons, some of them valid, why this is a good idea]. Democrats: No. [Break for the day. Tell members of the press that the gridlock is the other side's fault.] The end.

When she was about 18 months old, Phoebe somehow chipped her front tooth. We had it capped at the dentist -- a procedure that involved me holding her body on my lap while a dental hygienist held her head and the dentist worked (very slowly) and Phoebe writhed and screamed like we were killing her -- but two days later, she bit into a bagel and the cap came off. Of course. So we decided to let it be. After all, it was a baby tooth, it was going to fall out eventually. I remember thinking, though, that five or six years was going to be a long time, looking at that awful chipped tooth every day. It wasn't a long time at all. And it stopped being awful: And now it's gone:

I found out today that my third grade teacher , Mrs. Neill, has died. She was one of the best. She's what every teacher should be. I hate to even mention this story in the same post as Mrs. Neill, but still -- I would bet that Mrs. Neill wouldn't have run away and called her dad and asked what she should do about an unsettling thing she saw in the locker room. I would bet that Mrs. Neill would've hauled back and given that person a solid punch in the jaw. Without having to think twice about it. I like to think that, having been taught by her, I would do the same thing.

For her second Christmas, Mallory got a very nice wooden dollhouse from Santa. Her grandparents and aunts chipped in to get all the associated furnishings and dolls. She played with it fairly regularly for a while, but then when Phoebe came along, we had to rearrange some things in her room and it kind of got pushed back to an inaccessible corner. Later, we moved it into our attic playroom, but by that point, they were both more interested in Polly Pockets and Barbies, and the dollhouse got very little use. I estimate they play with it once or twice a year. I would like to get rid of this dollhouse. I think it's a wonderful toy, it's high-quality, it's a great thing -- but my kids don't play with it and it's taking up quite a bit of space and gathering dust. I've considered saving it for my grandchildren, but that assumes that I'll have grandchildren that will be interested in a dollhouse, which really is a tall assumption, and we don't really have t...

Really, I just can't stop with the weekend activities. My kids have been enriched to death the past month or so. This weekend, we went downtown Raleigh for a double-header. First up: the North Carolina History Festival, which I hoped would get Mallory excited about the enormous NC Social Studies project she's working on. That night: Tickets to the ballet, a few blocks away from the festival. In between: About an hour and a half of down time (poor planning). The festival was fine. We saw sculptures and a real dugout canoe and a replica Cherokee longhouse and the girls made bonnets and paper cardinals. Much more exciting than history, however, was riding bus between venues: Then, to kill time, we had an ice cream cone and wandered back to the garage where we'd parked the car. In the elevator, to be whimsical, I pushed 6 even though we were only on 3. The sixth floor level turned out to be empty of cars and the girls thought this was the best thing ever. A phot...

As a break from my list of depressing reads, I turned to Anne Frank. Yeah, I know. It's like continuing to eat spicy food while complaining that your mouth's on fire. Mallory asked me about Hitler the other day. How do you explain Hitler to a 9-year-old? Her main concern seemed to be whether such a thing could ever happen again. She didn't seem comforted by my answer ("I hope not") but what else can you say? Anyway, in an attempt to bring things down to her level, I told her about Anne Frank. Then I ordered a book for her -- "Who Was Anne Frank?" -- one of a series of biographies for children. (I think I've mentioned before how much I loved the biographical series in my elementary school's library. They were all bound in hideous orange. My favorite was Jane Addams: Little Lame Girl .) I thought this summation of Anne Frank's life would be easier for Mallory -- who does not like to read -- to digest than the actual diary. I read The D...

Mallory is busily creating her birthday party invitation. It was difficult to rein her in, to say, no, you can't invite your friends to a movie AND go swimming AND go for ice cream and no, as an alternative you can't invite every girl in your class (except the one you don't like) to the Tumble Gym. It's even more difficult to wrap my head around the fact that she's going to be ten.