Always Remember That

On the last day of school, Mallory's teacher said to me: "I just love Mallory. If I had to become a kid again -- god forbid -- I think I'd want to come back as Mallory." I can't think of a nicer compliment.

A few weeks ago I read Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher. And of all the things that I don’t want happening to my daughters as they grow up, I think first on that list is having an eating disorder. The author first decided she was fat at the age of five. By nine, she was making herself throw up once a day. She was in and out of hospitals and mental institutions throughout high school and college. At the age of 20, she weighed 52 pounds. 52 pounds – that’s less than Mallory weighs now. Eating disorders are so insidious. They’re so hard to control, to recover from. Even while writing her book, Hornbacher insisted that she wasn’t cured. (And the disease has had long-term repercussions on her health – she can’t have babies, she has depleted bone and muscle mass, her immune system is shot.) There is no cure, there is only coping. It’s not like alcoholism or drug abuse – everyone has to have some kind of relationship with food. I think in this culture it’s extrem...

I’m glad it’s summer. For one thing, it means the end of the morning rush to get the kids up, dressed, fed and out the door at a specific time. I’m really bad at that so it’s nice to have a three-month reprieve. For another thing, it means that the girls will have a lot more time to spend together, and that’s nice because they’re finally at the stage that they can actually play together and have real conversations. For example, the other morning I was up getting dressed while the kids slept. I heard Phoebe making noises so I went down the hall to get her. Then I stopped outside the door because she wasn’t actually calling for me, she was singing a song. I listened for a minute, and then I heard Mallory say, “Phoebe, are you singing?” “Yeah!” Phoebe said. “What are you singing about?” “My toes hurt!” “Your toes hurt?” “Yeah.” “Why do your toes hurt?” “A-cause.” “Well, I’m sorry about that.” “My-ee’s toe hurts?” “No, my toes are okay.” “Oh. Good!” They like to play Barbies together too –...

Today was Mallory’s last day of preschool. Here she is posing with Phoebe. Ignore Phoebe, who as usual was refusing to cooperate. Here she is on her very first day, two years ago: Look at that face! I’ve loved her preschool. I can’t think of one complaint I had in the two years she was there. I hope she fares as well in “big school.” Their closing program was last night. Can you see her, way in the back? (Yeah, she's the tallest child in preschool.) The kids sang one of my favorite songs -- “This Little Light of Mine” -- (I have an odd memory of me, my brother and sisters, and my mom singing that song in front of the whole church while my mom played guitar. Did that really happen?) although they didn’t sing my favorite verse, “Don’t let Satan whoosh it out! I’m gonna let it shine…” Maybe they don’t teach kids about Satan anymore. Anyway, I’m proud of my little light. She’s learned and grown so much in the past two years, it’s hard to believe. I was a bit teary all day, and it’s n...

Everyone else with a blog is doing this, so why not me? Here are 7 things you may not know about me. 1. I often get obsessed with topics and spend weeks reading everything I can find about them. This happened much more often in college and graduate school, mostly when I was procrastinating doing my actual schoolwork. Examples include: the fate of the Romanov family (Anastasia did, sadly, die with the rest of them); the Lindbergh kidnapping (I don’t think Hauptmann did it); and Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition to the South Pole (I don’t think he was a great leader, but I also think he had some really bad luck). 2. I have breastfed both of my kids well into toddlerhood. I know that’s out of the ordinary and it’s nothing I really planned to do; it’s just that we kept hitting the “usual” cut-off dates (6 months, 9 months, 1 year) and I couldn’t think of any real good reason to stop. Mallory nursed until she was 32 months (although only for naps and bedtime for about the last six months of ...

Chris's kidney stone exited on Tuesday and he is all better now. Hooray! I have not been very bloggy lately. I have thoughts in my head but not much motivation to write them out. Perhaps I'll try harder next week. Perhaps not. In the meantime, here are some recent Phoebe funnies: Yesterday morning while my back was turned, Mallory poured syrup all over Phoebe's waffle. Phoebe cried: "I don't like syr-sup! Mommy! Affle broke!" We had this conversation over and over yesterday: P: How are you Mommy? Me: I'm fine, Phoebe, thanks! How are you? P: Good! Thank you! How are you Mommy? Me: I'm fine, Phoebe, how are you? P: Good! How are you Mommy? Last night with Mallory: P: My-ee! My-ee! My-ee! Mallory (finally): What? P: Um...eight nine ten elenen, My-ee! After taking a sip of Chris's soda: "Delicious!" P: Watch this Mommy! Watch this Mommy! Me: Okay, I'm watching. P: (takes a big step) I jumped, Mommy! Hooray Phoebe! If she wants something ...

Chris has a kidney stone, so he now has an inkling of what I went through to bear his children. However, saying cheerily, “Now you know how labor feels!” to someone who has a kidney stone isn’t really recommended. At least not until the drugs kick in. We spent the morning in the ER. Then I had to run in to work while Chris stayed home all doped up. We hope this passes quickly, but your kind thoughts are appreciated. In totally unrelated news: Last night I got home and just didn’t feel like making dinner, so I suggested we get dinner from the Sonic that just opened down the street from us. “What’re we gonna do, eat in the car?” Chris asked skeptically. “Yeah!” I enthused. “I loved eating Sonic in the car when I was a kid, it’ll be fun!” I soon learned that eating Sonic in the car isn’t so much fun when you’re a parent. Although I did forget to try to convince Mallory that there was a little man in the speaker box that ran the order back to the restaurant, as my dad convinced me so long ...

Chris and I are going away for a "romantic weekend" in June, which means, in part, that I'm going to have a whole day to myself in a hotel room. I'm so excited about this, I can hardly type. I do have one complaint, however: Why oh why can't the new Harry Potter book come out that weekend, instead of one month later in July? It's not that I'm all that into Harry Potter, but I do want to read the new one, and I know that once I start reading the new book I won't want to put it down. So that weekend in June would be perfect . I wonder if I could plead my case to the publisher, maybe they'll slip me an advance copy?...Yeah, probably not. This mis-scheduling happened with Harry Potter 6 too. It came out in July 2005, ten days after Phoebe was born, and the only time I was able to read it was when Phoebe was nursing and Mallory was otherwise occupied. Now, when Mallory was a newborn reading and nursing was a cinch, because she was an easy baby and just...

I’ve had such an interesting day at work. I don’t want to reveal too much about my job, so let’s say, hypothetically, that I create html newsletters for hamster owners. And let’s say that in our last issue we invited our loyal readers to submit their very best picture of their hamster for possible publication in our next issue. Let’s say that we have received, to date, over three thousand pictures of hamsters that I now have to sort through. And let’s say that some of these pictures are alarmingly bad, so much so that I have decided that next year, when we once again open our inbox for reader photos, I’m going to include these guidelines: 1. Please submit only photos that are in focus. 2. Please fix any hamster red-eye before submitting photo. 3. Even the cutest hamster does not look all that cute when sitting on a couch with busy upholstery. 4. Or when sitting on dirty linoleum. 5. Photos of your hamster’s nether regions are not desirable. 6. Photos of your hamster snuggling into your...

Mallory has recently been obsessed with caterpillars. Every day she's out scouring the yard for another caterpillar to put in her caterpillar bucket (the scene of many untimely caterpillar deaths, sadly, because she insists on leaving them there overnight and I always forget to go release them so they won't get too cold. Or hot. Or whatever problem they have with the bucket that causes them to die overnight. Anyway.). A few days ago she looked up from her caterpillar observing and said: "Mommy, are caterpillars gods?" "Gods?" I repeated blankly. "Yeah, you know, gods," she said. I stopped to think. I imagined a Caterpillar on a cloud hurling lightning bolts, like Zeus. I imagined a Caterpillar in a manger. I imagined a Caterpillar sitting Buddha-like on a mushroom a la Lewis Carroll. What I could not imagine was why Mallory was asking this particular, peculiar question. "I'm not sure what you mean," I finally said. "You know, did...

Friday night. We took the kids over to my in-laws because Mallory had expressed her desire to have a sleepover. Since Chris and I are planning to go out of town without either child in June (not a moment too soon might I add) and Phoebe’s never been left before, we figured we might try to leave Phoebe overnight as well to see how she handles it. I felt a bit conflicted about this, however, since I had been at work all day and hadn’t been able to spend any time with her. So we went out to dinner, bummed around for a while, and went back to Chris’s parent’s house around 9. I figured if Phoebe was already asleep, we’d leave her there; if not, we’d just take her home. Well, both children were still awake, and not only did we have to take Phoebe home with us, but Mallory decided that she didn’t want to have a sleepover after all. So we didn’t get rid of either kid that night. Bummer. Saturday morning. My friend Julia had planned to bring her two girls over because she and her husband are bu...

Expecting Adam , by Martha Beck, is the best book I’ve read in a long time. And I read a lot of good books, so, you know, you should rush out and read it yourself immediately. Beck and her husband were Harvard graduate students when she became pregnant with their second child. They were both driven, ambitious, pragmatic people and were very concerned about how the new baby would affect their career paths – especially when Beck became very ill during pregnancy, and even more so when they found out that the baby had Down Syndrome. Everyone around them assumed they would terminate the pregnancy. But ever since she became pregnant, Beck started having inexplicable but comforting “spiritual” experiences – a friend suddenly showing up at the door with groceries when Beck herself was too ill to get off the couch and feed herself and her daughter; a mysterious stranger helping her and her daughter down the stairs when their apartment building caught fire; the ability to “see” her husband as he...

As the second child, Phoebe has been exposed to certain things at a far earlier age than Mallory was. For example, Phoebe already knows that she can ask for ice cream when she's done with dinner (we kept dessert a secret from Mallory for at least two years, I think). Phoebe plays with Barbies, whereas at this age Mallory was still playing with Little People. Phoebe's favorite movies are Stuart Little and Grease; at that age, Mallory had only seen Sesame Street and Baby Einstein. And I'm thrilled to report that Phoebe can already say, "I FIRST!" and "Mine!" (although she pronounces it "mines" which is pretty funny), and, my very favorite, "Why?" Yeah, she's asking "why." The problem is -- beyond the problem that being asked why a million times a day is just annoying -- that she isn't quite able to understand any answer we give her. So she just keeps repeating "Why? Why? Why?" But here's a lesson I'm ...

I mailed our taxes off late Thursday afternoon. My check to the IRS cleared yesterday . That strikes me as being really, really quick. Almost impossibly quick. Wonder if they would've sent a refund that fast.

My mom is coming to visit us on Saturday. Yay! As much as I love it when my whole family gets together, I also love it when it’s just my mom, when she can spend one-on-one time with my girls. (I guess it’s one-on-two time, now.) And I’m glad that she’ll get to see Phoebe on her “home turf,” since last time we went to visit, Phoebe was pretty overwhelmed and crankety and wouldn’t let me put her down. So I’m looking forward to this visit. So is Mallory. She keeps asking when exactly Grandmom will be here, how long it will take her to get here, where she will sleep, who else will be here, how long she will stay, what we will give her for dinner, and how many days again is it til she gets here? This morning she got to preschool and announced to her teacher, “My grandmom is coming in five days! And she’s taking two planes!” I’ll be glad when Grandmom gets here just so the questions will stop! Of course, they’re bound to be replaced by others, but at least Mom can provide the answers for a c...

This weekend I caught myself telling someone that Phoebe was "almost two." It caught me off guard. It's true, of course, and it's much more precise than just saying she's "one," but I was still surprised to hear it coming out of my mouth. Almost two! My baby! The truth is, I'm only the teensiest bit nostalgic for her babyhood. I love the age she's at now. When I come home from work she runs to me and says, "Mommm-ie!" with a huge smile, and when I pick her up she wraps her arms tightly around my neck. This greeting almost makes going to work worth it. She can count to ten -- "Wan. Two. Free. Four. Fize. Sik. Senen. Eat. Nahn. Ten!" But if she hears someone else counting, she'll hide her eyes, then say, "Here I come! Where are you?" She loves her baby dolls. She carries them around, she hugs them, she feeds them "juice." If she drops a doll, she picks it up and says, "I sowee! Okay?" She also s...

Mallory has developed the habit of exaggerating quantities -- "I want 18 million pancakes for breakfast! I want to play outside for 28 thousand hours!" And since last week I have picked up 12 billion strands of Easter grass and stepped on 14 hundred plastic eggs. Oh, and I took lots of pictures too. Egg dying. (No eggs died!) Incidentally, Mallory told me not to take pictures of her because her clothes didn't match. This from a child who once purposely wore a Halloween shirt with candy-cane pants and summer sandals. Phoebe received this Elmo bubble machine from the Easter bunny. Bubble-blowing Elmo is very loud and wastes lots of bubble liquid. Phoebe likes him anyway. Phoebe did not like having to have her picture taken in her Easter dress. Still not liking it: Nope, not liking it now either: A bit happier, with a "pop-pop" and grandparents: Hunting for Easter eggs: "Easta-weggs! I find! All done!"

A few nights ago Mallory asked to take a shower rather than a bath. This was surprising – Mallory usually hates getting her face wet in any way, and the few times we’ve attempted to give her a shower have been disasters. “I don’t think you’ll like it,” I said dubiously, but she insisted (loudly and tearfully), so I relented. And she did fine. “I really like showers!” she announced when she got out. “Hey Daddy!” she called across the house. “I like showers!” I was chalking this up as yet another inexplicable whim when Chris said, “Hey, Mallory, let me ask you something. Do you like showers now because of the Sandy video we saw on TV?” Mallory blushed, giggled madly, and said, “Um, yes. And I really like showers!” This is what happened. She and Chris had caught the tail end of Grease on TV the other night, and for some reason the station played Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical” video right afterward. As you may know, Olivia (or Sandy, as we know her) is in a gym with a bunch of guys and t...

(Alternate title: How to waste a whole lot of time at work, thanks to Google Earth) Here's where I grew up. That's right, no pavement! Then I went to Trinity University in San Antonio. Lots of pavement and red brick. Spent most of my time in the rectangular building at the top, near the parking lot -- the library. I spent a semester here. My dorm was one of the squiggly white buildings. England was on the whole beautiful; the campus of UEA was not. After graduation I moved to North Carolina and lived in this apartment: Then Chris and I bought our first house in Durham. House was cute (but very small), neighborhood was beautiful (but close to some undesirable parts of town); we only lived there for two years. I couldn't get a clear image of our present home, but here's where I spend every working day. Our office is in the one towards the bottom. Oh, and all those trees to the right? Gone, as of last week. Where've you been all your life?

1. We had a trip to the zoo planned for last Saturday -- we being Chris and the girls and I, plus his parents and sister, whose birthday it was (Happy Birthday Mimi!). However, to make a long story short, Chris woke up with a a bizarre throat problem and he and I ended up spending the morning at the doctor's office, while everyone else went to the zoo without us. (Chris is fine -- well, he's not sick. He has a swollen uvula, probably caused by allergies and/or sleep apnea, which makes it difficult for him to talk or swallow. Not life-threatening, just very unpleasant.) After we were reassured that Chris was not going to require an emergency tonsillectomy, I was actually a bit pleased with how things had turned out. I got a day to myself! I went home and cleaned the kitchen, including under the oven (disgusting) and behind the fridge (horrifying). I even took down the curtains and washed them (and will probably not put them back up -- I never liked them much. I've kind of l...