Rinnngggg

So Penelope loves the phone. Tonight while she was brushing her teeth, you was playing with her annoying little play phone.
The "caller" says, "Hi... Are you having fun?... It was great talking to you.... Bye."
So Penelope, who was in a heap of troubles today with the pushing and the toy stealing and the "umph"ing as she screams, "NO," was standing at the sink, nonchalantly brushing her teeth with one hand and holding the phone up to her ear with the other.
"Hi," the phone says.
Hi, Penny grumbles.
"Are you having fun?'
"NO," Penelope answers.

Yeah, Penny. Me either. Who said the terrible twos can't be maddening and hilarious, all at the same time.

I'm two. Do what I say, dammit

Penelope has embraced her two-ness. She can have a tantrum that gets everybody in the house involved. Today, she cried for he last 30 minutes before taking a nap. A woman driving past us as we walked Carolyn home from school took one look at us, felt immense pity and shook her head.
Not enough pity to offer a ride or anything, but enough for judging.
If only there were a term to describe Penelope's terrible two-ness. If only...
Anyhow, it gets easier and easier to ignore these episodes. I can totally tune out her screeches as she heaves blocks against the door of her room during punishment time.
Yesterday, I sent her to her room where she wailed and cried. I sat on the couch and picked up something to read.
About 30 seconds later, Carolyn came over to me.
"I love you mommy," she said kindly. "But could you go get Penny."
Sure honey, I told her, giving her a little hug. I realize not everybody is as callous as me.

Oh Mann....

Apparently, in the last week, we've become a Nick Jr. family. And in the infamous words of Swiper, the foxy nemesis of our beloved heroine Dora, "Oh Mann."

Busy, busy. But I always have time for my favorite Penelope moment. Today after nap, she was pretending to lay back down in her new favorite game, nap time. So I go into her room after a few minutes and here is what I find.

She's holding her blankie in one hand, and my credit card in the other, planning some sort of extravagant shopping trip for designer jeans or something. Seriously.

Carolyn is great. All she really wants is her supply of Nick Jr. magazines (see where we're going with this) and a steady supply of outside. I love that she doesn't care that it's 2 degrees. Girlfriend needs her fresh air.

In fact, I recently came across a Canadian playgroup that only meets outside. It's kind of their point. And their motto? There is no bad weather... Just bad clothing.

I love it. If I was the type of person that started playgroups, I'd totally start that one.

The most important person in my own mind

Life has a way of knocking me off my high horse. It kicks me right off, usually only moments after I get on.

Yesterday, I was feeling pretty good about myself. A national magazine gig. I had just received an advance copy of a book from a New York publishing house to review for my story. I was feeling pretty darn important.

Now, in case you didn't know, it's January. And, just in case you weren't aware, it's often very, very cold in January. This makes my non-driving lifestyle annoying at best, and often, it puts me on the border of child neglect as the girls and I trudge home through the snow in zero degree weather, Carolyn with a head of wet hair (which of course I cover with hat(s)). Anyhow, yesterday morning was especially cold so I decided to drive Carolyn to school (for the very first time and yes I know I picked her up the other day but picking up is not the same as dropping off) on my way to the office, aka coffeehouse.

We g0t there early and I nabbd a spot right in front. I was eager to do this because I believe, in my heart of hearts, that the other moms believe I'm an unlicensed drunken driver. They have minivans. I have a nearly broken-down stroller. They perceive something to be amiss.

When I came back out, low and behold, the car won't start. Now, our car is a big gold car that used to be a cop car. It's quirky, to put it mildly. This not starting has happened before and it has weird rules, like if you get out of the car and try again, it'll start. And you usually have to wait 15 minutes. And it's more likely to start with the automatic starter.

I realize none of this makes any sense, but trust me, it's all completely true.

So not only do I have to sit in my big gold car as the early parents leave, I have to see all the late parents come and go as I sit in my big gold (very chilly) car pretending to talk on my cell phone.

And now, they all have a new reason to think I'm weird. Excellent.

The best part is, I walked home because I had bunches of work to do. Steve walked up to the car and started it right away.

Once again, I proved that while I look OK on paper (New York editors think I'm equipped to write stories for their magazine) I fail miserably at real life (moms avoid eye contact with me as we pass in the hall).

Eh... I'll take that.

Totally whiny blog

My day has been painfully annoying. I decided, due to the snow last night and Neighbors Without Shovels Who Don't Believe Pedestrians Deserve Clear Sidewalks (otherwise known as NWSWDBPDCS... I guess they don't believe in vowels either) I decided to drive the car to pick up Carolyn from school. Getting the girls in and out of the carseats, seeing my house from my parking spot and the cars speeding up and down this narrow street all lent themselves to the irritation of this experience.

When we got home, Carolyn tried to teach Penelope to use the potty. Since I'm not having any luck, I say great. Maybe that's what potty training needs — more 3-year-olds.

I'd write more, or more often, but my life is pretty full right now. No time for idle observations. Today, for instance, Carolyn had preschool, she went out to play in the snow this morning, I shoveled the drive (oh, if I only had a sidewalk), I made some calls, we made a mess in the kitchen, we took Steve to work today, I'm baking my two-day rustic bread and making tomato soup for dinner, we have story time this evening, I need to study/work/do Washington Post crossword puzzle and maybe get Steve from work and did I mention the kitchen is a mess.

Did you notice how many idle observations I made there...

And tomorrow... Well, let's just see how we get wet-headed Carolyn home from the pool with snowy sidewalks. It's called a shovel people. Use it.

It's been a blue January

Blue as in cold. Blue as in cabin feverish. Blue as in blue.

Yes, of course I'm neglecting this blog. I'm far too busy complaining about how it's impossible to go anywhere or do anything in this kind of cold. Of course, we do have activities Monday through Thursday... night activities Monday through Wednesday... oh, and movie nights on Friday. But what about the playground? Long sunny walks? Bike rides across town just because?

Not today, or tomorrow. Instead, we did a project. We painted Carolyn's room the most lovely shade of blue. For anybody worried about Carolyn's involvement, we used no VOC paint.

A farm to remember

What a week we had! Seriously, we went from a foot of snow to no coats — overnight. The girls took to the farm like stink to a pig (I'm not sure what this means, but I love it) and it felt so nice to let them wander the empty fields alone for a little while, something that's impossible in today's world of gigantic cars, destination parks and no sidewalks.

No chance of being run over and getting back to nature. Now that's a vacation.

I love the farm. After just a day there alone, I started thinking, "I could do this. This life, this is what I was cut out for. I'd have a full acre vegetable garden. I'd get chickens." I told Steve that we should start planning what farmers markets we'd attend.

Steve then pointed out I'd been taking pictures of old wooden posts for about an hour, presumably thinking, "how quaint" as I tromped through the field with Carolyn on my heels. In 50 degree weather... In January... With two horses. Probably not the best indicator of my farming talents.

That's city folk for ya.

For instance, we have this:



Oh, the simple beauty of a manure spreader wheel. At least I think it's a manure spreader.



Oh, feed barrels. What stories you could tell!

But I really feel like these last two get to the heart of the matter. The girls are so cute in rain boots, looking up at horses.

Let it snow, and stay

Here's a video, showing both my athletic prowess, and how much snow there is in Michigan. Oh, and Carolyn yelling, "Go faster mommy."

Another Christmas ended

So the family and I had a fine day. We opened all the presents in the morning, including from Julia's gifts that arrived TODAY, and enjoyed playing and cleaning. Then we went to Chinese buffet for lunch, where I ate my weight in sushi and Steve ate an octopus. We tried to get Penny to eat a crawfish, but she kept moving it off the plate saying, "bug."
Later, we went for a walk and enjoyed some whiskey one of Steve's workers got for him. The we watched "Looney Tunes," a gift from Aunt Sandy to the girls, but really, a gift for me.
Here are some pics from today.
This is a totally cool "My Mom's Tote" bag. Steve said it's his favorite because he could see Carolyn playing with it quietly, for like an hour. Babysitting capacity — The true mark of a great toy.

This letter train spells "Gardner." Isn't that cool...

My Christmas girls


Bunny love.

Mmmmm. Bug.

Steve bought me a whole case of Estee Lauder makeup, so I made myself up to look like a French whore to go to the Chinese buffet. See how pretty.

Two more Christmas videos

Santa's cookies

And yes... I see what she did with her hands. I think that's what it means when people say, "It was cooked with love."

Christmas wishes

And on Earth, Peace. Good Will Toward Men

We're here. Finally. Christmas Eve.
I've been a real scrooge this year, even comically so as the family and I hosted our own Christmas party at an empty pizza parlor with pinball, a juke box and beer by the pitcher. Oh, and the festive bus ride, of course.
But I wanted to wish the folks I know a very Merry Christmas and lots of happiness in the New Year. Yes, even scrooges have a heart. Tiny shriveled hearts, like old raisins, but just enough.
Now, almost time to take down this crooked tree... Finally.

A story... in photos

Carolyn and I went to visit my mom in Michigan for her birthday. Here's what happened...

I took Carolyn out to eat on the drive there. I took her picture.


Then she took mine.

We got to Michigan. We played. We ate. We had cake.


Then this happened.
It snowed and snowed and snowed some more. But we decided to give going home a try.
And we made it.

And a few days later, we made a snowwoman. Isn't she pretty.


It's good to be home.

hodgepodge

Just a few updates from Team Gardner headquarters.

Penelope had her annual exam. She's great, still huge (almost 100 percent on height and head circumference) and not a big fan of Dr. Tillman. You should have seen the icy stare Penny gave. Also, the nurse asked me if I had her hair highlighted : )

School ended for me with an A. I didn't even have to take the final because I did so well on the five regular exams. This comes after taking Anatomy and Physiology TWICE in college, performing poorly (D and C-) both times. Steve said it's amazing considering I'm much busier now. I pointed out that I was actually busier back then, just not busy with anything all that important. Heroin addicts, after all, are busy... But anyway, I'm super excited about the A.

And finally, Steve read this article in the Washington Post that pretty much summed up why I hate Christmas. It says people with low self-esteem do not like being praised for the sake of praising, a holiday attitude that can cause much stress for this type of person. Instead, they prefer accurate and deserved praise.

Managers who offer inaccurately glowing reports in the hope of encouraging employee loyalty may discover that employees with low self-esteem feel less loyal afterward, And high expectations of goodwill, charity and bonhomie at Christmastime can cause these types of people not to feel better about themselves, but worse.

I do take offense at the phrase "low self-esteem," which I believe to have a negative connotation. I believe seeing oneself accurately, flaws and all, is a good personality trait and shouldn't be labeled as negative, just as so-called "high self-esteem" shouldn't be the gold standard. Why can't both be seen as acceptable views of the world and of self? Why should society deem one better than the other?

Actually, the article sort of addresses this. I'm off to sit on the couch and think about all the tasks I won't accomplish today. Busy, busy...

Here come Santa Claus. Bah...

The family and I braved the cold and icy weather this weekend to go to the community Christmas event. I was reminded, once again, of all the reasons I hate this holiday so much.

Every event. Every cookie. Every trip to Target. It's always a huge letdown. Except for it's a "Charlie Brown Christmas," which remains the best cartoon ever made.

Anyhow, the girls liked it OK. Carolyn asked Santa, rather shyly, for a clock. That's right. Girlie's got her heart set on a clock for her room. So hard to please. (FYI.. Do NOT buy a clock for Carolyn. That's Santa's job.)

Penelope seemed excited, only to realize Santa is actually pretty scary (big hairy guy in a bright red suit....Um, yeah...) so no lap time this year. We also waited in seriously cold and windy conditions to ride the horse carriage (about eight people at a time can ride), only to realize the guy ahead of us was holding the place in line for about 30 kids.

That's what I love most about the holidays — the jerkiness.

Yet again, disappointed. And this time, really, really cold. Here are the pics.

Snow, snow, snow

We had our first dusting of snow last night, so we just had to get the girls all dressed up to go outside. Then we got them undressed to come inside. Then we got them redressed to go to swimming practice. Then we got them undressed at the pool, redressed at the pool and, finally, undressed just in time for lunch.

Later, we hit the stores for boots and mittens. What excitement our lives have.



On a more annoying note, Penelope refuses to sleep in her bed. After I decided to let her do whatever the hell she wanted this afternoon, this (see below) resulted. Give me strength. Scratch that.

Give me alcohol!!!!

Busy, busy, busy

I'm much too busy to bore everybody (yes, even you mom) with the mundane details of my life, and trust me, they are mundane, but I had to take a minute to share some exciting news.

Penelope pooped in the potty.

Say that five times fast. Unless you're at a restaurant or some kind of food court where people might not appreciate it.

After nap today, she locked herself in Carolyn's room for her 3 p.m. poop behind closed doors. I caught her and was like, "No you don't," took off her diaper and showed her the seat. Then she was like, "You don't own me, mother. Take this," as she hurled said potty chair over her head.

After a few distractions and just leaving her alone, she sat on the chair — on her own — and used it for the very first time. She had never so much as tinkled in the thing before today. It was pretty awesome. Here's a picture...


Kidding. Not even I am that much a stickler for posterity. But please let this be the road to a diaper-free household.

Penelope is 2!!!

Here are some pics of my birthday girl. She is so beautiful.

It's hard to believe that two years ago, about this time, she had just been born and I was all doped up on morphine.

I think I should get that experience every year on her birthday. The morphine, that is, not the birthing.

And even though it IS Penny's day, Carolyn had her first swim lesson at her fancy-shamcy swim school today (I say fancy even though, and I swear this is true, a centipede attacked me in the locker room) and I can hear Penelope, a 28-year-old art student shacking up with her loser boyfriend as Swimmer Carolyn wins her fourth gold medal...

"I might have been something too if you had cared enough to let me get into the pool on my second birthday instead of making me watch my sister have the time of her life swimming."

Kids. They're never grateful.

Thankful for non-hill dwelling

The family and I had a fantastic Thanksgiving. I especially enjoyed my fourth annual Black Friday shopfest accompanied by my sister-in-law Monica. It was the most fun I ever had shopping at 5 a.m., in part because Monica didn't seem to mind my tunnel-vision attitude toward nonsensical purchases.

About 6:30 at Macy's. Monica: I saw you looking at kid's stuff and then you were gone. The next time I saw you, you had an arm full of towels.

On the way home from Tulsa, Steve, the girls and I did a little hiking to stretch our legs. Returning to the freeway, we got lost on top of a Missouri hill where little boys with guns roamed freely. It made West Virginia look like New York City. We escaped without squealing like a pig, thankfully, and came home safe and sound.

Here are some pics of our outdoor adventure, along with the girls and their cousins, the beloved Jeremiah and his sister Isabella.