Summer time

So I never blog anymore. Summer's here and I can't think of anything less appealing than sitting in front of the computer, especially since I've been called to do so pretty often as of late.

But that's neither here nor there. I'm writing strictly for girl news.

Carolyn is still is school and loving it. It's only two hours a day, two days a week, but it's a good chance for her to learn about standing in line and making crafts. We've been taking the bike out every day and I'm still in love. And I mean, IN love.

Some of you have wondered what it looks like. Here's a pic of the girls and me going to the park this afternoon.

Next on the girl news front, Penelope moved to a toddler bed. I wasn't really in a hurry or anything, and she seemed to do fine with the crib. But we moved Carolyn at about 19 months because Penelope was due to arrive and it worked out great. She took right to it. I hear from some parents that it's harder to do when they get 2ish, so we made the change, again with great success, except she keeps falling out at about 5 a.m. That's becoming more infrequent.

Penelope has really been moving toward being a very physical girl. She's coordinated, huggy, noisy and (premature guessing on our part) kind of athletic. We're almost positive it's not genetic.

And today, the girls and I had a great morning. Stealing the idea from a dad we know, I took the girls out on the trail and we cut wild flowers. We went out about 7:30, the weather was amazing, and looked through the prairie plants for pretty flowers. I learned my favorite is called butterfly weed.

Here's our find. Doesn't it kind of look like we bought it?

First day (sniff) of school (sniff, sniff)

Carolyn officially started school.
Here she is right before we walked over. Notice the empty backpack that she just had to bring...

It wasn't nearly as emotional as I thought it would be. For one, she's going two days a week for only to hours a day. That's just a tad longer than story hour.

For two, she's totally excited about the idea school. The teacher and kids and songs and reading. After her nap that day, the first thing she wanted to do was "talk to daddy on the phone."

"Daddy, I went to school. Daddy, I went to school. Daddy....."

You see where this is going.

And here's the little secret — when she's at school, I get to go to the pool with Penny. Not this week because I'm really busy, but one day. Here's a pic of Penny and Steve at the pool, just because I love that little bathing suit.

A new year for Lincoln

Here are a couple of photographs from our favorite Abe Lincoln bench. Funny how Abe doesn't look a lick older...

First, here's a picture from last year.

And here's one from today.

Penelope Rose Pelé

Here's a bit on something about Penelope. She's super coordinated for such a little kid. Here's a little video of her practicing her soccer moves, which she did for about 30 minutes tonight.

The perfect first

I've been thinking a little about how Penny's doctor told me I shouldn't compare the girls. After all, they are different people.

But here's something I've thought about. With our first, we only see the things they can do.But with out second,sometimes it's easier to see the things they can't do.

How sad for our seconds. Of course Carolyn loves to read, has an amazing vocabulary and seems a natural actress. Of course Penelope screams all the time, would rather build book towers than actually open the book and won't eat vegetables.

And of course, Penelope sings, climbs things three times taller than herself and hugs unabashedly. And of course, Carolyn isn't perfect.

Case in point....

Lipstick. Purple lipstick. Let's just say none of us is perfect.

The first big cut (sniff, sniff)

She did it! Today, Carolyn got her first major haircut.

At first, I was worried I might start bawling, but Julie (who cuts my hair) did such an awesome job I felt like it was the perfect thing to do.

And bonus, it was just long enough for us to send to Locks of Love. Don't get too weepy thinking about some cancer patient wearing Carolyn's lovely hair. Whenever I mentioned she was going to give her hair away, Carolyn decided this was all a pretty bad idea. She's very into the idea that everything belongs to someone, or the idea that things belong to her, but not very clear about the idea that things can belong to more than one person.

But honestly, I know some adults who probably have the same problem.

Here's the photo show, from start to finish, along with a picture of me and the girls.

Future Penelope: I never screamed...

Hahahahahahahahaha. One day, I'll take a video for proof.

But we all know I love my little Penny. Only she's not so little. She had her 18 month appointment today and once again, she's over 100 percent on height and 95 percent on weight. She's almost 3 feet tall!!!

The doctor said the tantrums are normal. She also said I should stop comparing her to her older sister.

Mamamama. Translate? I want my blankie

Penny and that damn ducky blankie. Recently, she wants to take it everywhere with her.

For anybody who doesn't have the background. My neighbor gave Carolyn this security blanket when she was born. And she used it.

The problem was, we were worried she would get too attached to it and wanted a backup. But at the time, and even today, this particular blankie can be found on eBay for up to $100. I K-N-O-W.

So I went to Kohl's, bought two identical blankets and made the switch.

Don't ask me why we gave Penny this lone blankie. She didn't use a pacifier. She doesn't like to sleep with her stuffed animals. The only thing she HAS to have every night, and more recently, all the time, is this blanket.

It's disgusting how gross this blankie can get.

I managed to sneak it away from her for a few hours today. I soaked it in some washing soda and it turned the water brown — and not kind of brown but holy crap this water is so brown I can't see my hands — in like 10 seconds.

And here's the kicker. Carolyn changes what she needs to get to sleep. One night it's Pooh. The next it's Jo-Jo. Now it's a drawing book. I don't even think she sleeps with her blankets anymore.

None of this sours the bidding war I just engaged in, and won, for a backup. I paid $23.90. For a blanket that wouldn't cover my knee. That's been used. On eBay.

Cycling for three

I don't know if it's my new bike, the awesome weather or because it gets light here at 4:30, but I got up the other morning at 6 a.m. to go for a bike ride. I know. Seriously weird.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I got up to take Fife for a walk, but I asked him and he ran into the bedroom to return to sweet, sweet dreamland. What kind of dog does that?

Here's my new post of Gristmill. It's all about my new awesome, awesome bike.

Carolyn — keeper of the hats

I was having a pretty rough morning. I won't bore you with all the whiny, spoiled details but I will say that the girls and Steve were the not the culprits of said adjectives.

But after Steve left for work, I was all set to take the girls out on their first bike ride with my new, pretty bike and new, super-cool kid trailer. The problem was I couldn't find both helmets for the girls.

After like 15 minutes of looking, I just sat down on the kitchen floor and cried a little. Carolyn, in all her more-grown-up-than-mom wisdom, got out of the carrier and went and found the helmet for me.

And yes... I felt like an ass.

So here's some pictures of Carolyn in her new garage-sale, cowgirl hat. At 75 cents, worth every cent, but not every Penny. Ha.. See what I just did there?

Six years... and counting

Today Steve and I celebrate six years of wedded bliss weddedness. Kidding of course. The only thing we wonder, since we've been married six years but together for eight, was the seven year itch last year or do have another year to go before we get all itchy?

Anyhow, for our sixth year we decided to go garage sale shopping. I KNOW... Romantic, right! Anyhow, our black car, which we are selling, has decided to give us a little shifting problem lately. Sometimes it's hard to get the car from, say, drive to reverse.

So we saw this sale on a busy street and needed to turn around. Steve picked the one driveway of the hundred or so we passed in which the owner was backing out. And it just so happens he couldn't get the car in reverse.

In a moment of panic, Steve yells, "Use your feet." So we're literally pushing the car into the street with our feet while the owner slowly backs out of his garage toward us. I assume he was wondering what kind of Flintstone-esque car we were driving because I wondered that myself.

"That's enough," Steve said as we rolled halfway into the street. "No wait. A little more."

We finally get the hell out of there, laughing our heads off. Carolyn is in the back yelling at us, "You woke up Penny."

Yep. We sure did.

So here's to Steve and I and at least another six. At that point, the kids will be old enough to understand that they're the reason we're splitting up.

Late-night munchies

I don't keep junk food in the house. Of course, it's mostly because I don't want the girls to eat crap. That I want them to know a healthy lifestyle. Yada, yada.

But I also do it because sometimes I get really hungry at night and I don't want to be tempted by a huge bag of Doritos. Mmmmm. Doritos.

Mostly, it works pretty well. But you might be interested to know that melba toast dipped in blue cheese dressing is pretty disgusting, yet surprisingly filling.

It's the price I pay.

Awkward

A few months ago, I wrote a book proposal about green parenting. While it was not accepted by any of the four agents who read it, they did have some good feedback and advice. One of them told me I should start a Web site, which I'm considering because I'd like to gather all my information in one place and Steve said he'd like to learn to design Web pages.

It would be good practice.

So I suggested to Steve we take our own clip art, which would be generic pictures of whatever I was writing about. The problem is, clip art needs to be very sharp and my camera pretty much blows. As do my photography skills.

So onto awkward. Today, I'm trying unsuccessfully to take some pictures in the backyard. I'm laying on the ground getting photos of the line drying. I'm holding a little basil seedling up to a white towel trying to get a shot of it.

So my neighbor, who appears out of nowhere, says, "So, whatya doing?"

Being weird. Freaking out the neighborhood. Ignoring my kids.

I stammered something about clip art, to which she nodded and walked on. It's really a wonder I don't have more friends.

Summer girls

I'm writing a story about how families keep in touch with new technology and the lady I'm interviewing posts like a billion pictures of her kids every week. I'd like to remind my family that while it's true there are moms out there blogging more photos than me, I am still doing a very good job — VERY good — at keeping everybody informed.

So no grief this week, especially since it's true. The stroller's gone. Anyhow, in lieu of my guilt, here's something to keep you happy for a few days.

Mother's Day revisited

Despite the missing stroller wheel. Despite the unsold car. Despite the toddler who recently refuses to go to bed and instead screams to the point of almost throwing up.

I had the best Mother's Day ever.

Steve, unshaken by my breakdown at the park after the stroller incident, let me sleep in, never lost his temper from my completely irrational foul mood and cooked me the most delicious dinner of shrimp and steak. He took the girls out the day before, helped them make me mother's day cards and bought me some "all natural" lotions, one of which Carolyn picked out and smells like lemon icebox pudding.

And, he bought me the new Tori Amos CD. He hates Tori Amos.

Sometimes, when you're little girl screams because she doesn't want to go to bed, or her sister pinches you because you won't let her dance on the dining room table, you might think motherhood isn't cut out for you. But then you realize how much they love you, and how much you love them, and the constant need to sweep the dining room floor doesn't seem as important.

I am truly lucky.

Happy Mother's Day

Walking home from ice cream today, a couple of women in a seemingly meaningful, teary embrace stopped their tender moment to get out of our way. Penelope's post-ice cream screams were reminiscent of a fire engine, clearing the way for our head-hung family to pass.

Just a few minutes later, the wheel of my beloved stroller fell off. Plop. One second I had four wheels. The next – three.

And I cried over this stroller, which I am in love with, as though I had lost a friend. And in a sense, I had. The stroller allows me to walk miles, clearing my thoughts and frustrations and problems. And now, it's missing a wheel, although Steve thinks he might have fixed it (fingers crossed).

This fiasco-like problem comes on the heels of the rude backing out from the guy who was going to buy our car (after we took it off the market two weeks ago) and the possibility that the bike buying will get put on hold.

I think sometimes that karma is not on my side, despite my best intentions. Maybe I should say screw karma and buy an SUV and throw fast food bags out the window as I pass a nature preserve. But with my luck, karma would start paying attention to me then.

My Little Sony

Penelope loves to play with electronic stuff. More than once I've found her on top of the kitchen table trying to get at the computer.
And her favorite thing to do is open the DVD player, close it and press play. Thank goodness we hide our snuff films. The other day, Penny was playing with a My Little Pony book Carolyn got from the library.
She walked over to the DVD player, opened it and tried to shove the book inside. She knows what she wants.

Why I love Nora Ephron

So maybe I don't understand the baby boomer's obsession with growing older, or rather, the mad fight to not grow older. At the very least, Nora Ephron is honest about it, and funny to boot.

A few months ago, I decided to let my gray grow out. I started going gray in my early 20s and have been dying my hair since before I had a driver's license. And this next quote from the New York Times Magazine by Ms. Ephron makes me love her even more.

Do you think a woman can ever look better with gray hair? Gray hair looks great when you’re about 34.

In a few months, when I turn 34, all my gray will be in and I'll finally be able to see what my hair really looks like. And just in time for Vegas.

Nora better not have lied to me.

I think I might have killed Fife

It's a sure sign you're a really crappy dog owner when the mailman, the dog's greatest nemesis, stops to tell you your dog looks really beat.

But I had been crammed inside with these too demon children (just kidding, kind of) all day because of rain and it's Friday, which means mommy needs some time alone, so when a break in the storms came through, I was all about getting outside.

Trouble was, it was so nice I just kept walking and walking and walking, until I noticed two things simultaneously: It was about to start raining again and Fife couldn't walk any more than 100 feet at a time without laying down. All this a half mile from home.

We made it. It was never really going to rain. It just looked like it. And I gave Fife some medicine and treats when we got home and he seems to be fine. I bet he even sleeps good tonight.

And just a note. I'm writing this without the use of a left shift key. i knew you'd be impressed.

My very dirty little secret

In case anybody has ever wanted to make your own laundry detergent (and I know you all have), check out my new post on Gristmill.

Picture Perfect

Here are a few pictures from our trip to Michigan to see the grandpas. I forgot my digital camera so we had to go old school with the disposable. Needless to say, my photography skills are not the best. But here are a few nice shots of Penny, first with grandpa and then with great grandpa.

And then, just because I haven't had any good "Mother of the Year" pictures lately, there's this:

But we got home and everything is back to normal, back in Normal. See, look how happy the morning girls are.

Perfect people

Hate them. I hate perfect people.

It's not really their fault. They know how to stay neat-looking all day. They always return phone calls. Their kids never have faces smeared with chocolate from the chocolate-chip-cookie bribe on the way home from the park.

And my imperfect life, complete with a T-shirt covered in little kid snot and computer keyboard missing the left shift key, stems from this one flaw: I'm a horrible speller.

Everything I write — everything — has errors. And while there exists people who catch spelling errors, those that don't care and those who cloak their own mistakes by picking out the flaws in others (my favorite), my camp falls from the"Why am I so stupid" variety. It's a sad little group, but we're a lot of fun to laugh at, so I guess that's something.

And what am I to do? I try really, really hard not to make mistakes, especially since I know I'm prone. I try and try, only to fail over and over again. Steve said everybody makes mistakes, but I just have a really hard time believing him. If that were true, wouldn't bridges be collapsing all over town and airplanes falling from the sky?

So I continue my imperfect, misspelled life as best I can and try to keep the snot shirt to a minimum. I continue to be weak willed, self loathing and a horrible decision maker. But in the grand scheme of the world, the one where Guinea worm disease still exists, I'm a very lucky woman. If I lay in bed at night, tortured by my spelling errors, that's my problem.

I'll take luck over spelling any day.

Complain, complain

It's so nice outside. Nearly 80. Sunny. Breezy.

Problem is, the girls and I feel like crap. Total, snotty crap. And not to complain, although I really, really feel like complaining, but I wanted to note this because I can't figure out if it's allergies or just a cold. I think we might have all gotten snotty last year at this time, but since my memories spans two, three days at the most, it's hard to know for sure.

And so God created blogs.

Here's a funny side note. Carolyn has taken to telling Steve not to fart in her room. It's pretty funny.

"Daddy, don't fart in my room."

Sure thing, he tells her. No farting.

Then she says, "Cause it gets louder and louder and louder and louder."

Poor Penny

It seems our Ms. Penelope has come down with an icky little illness. I swear, whenever we travel, one of our kids comes home sick. It's full-proof.

And to make the whole thing a little sweeter, it's forecast to be in the 70s today and all weekend. There's a sure sign that we'll all get it. Super.

I hadn't mentioned it yet, but we traveled to see my dad and grandpa last weekend. It was really nice, especially since we originally went to look after everything because grandpa came back from Vegas early not feeling well, but it turned out he's great and it was just a nice visit. Carolyn loved the dogs and the horses and the cats and the grandpas.

Penny has developed a pretty serious mommy attachment. I hope it's just a phase, and am pretty sure it is, but right now, she's not very fond of strangers or giant German shepherds or indoor pools. She does love to read and sit with Fife and poke me in the eyes, so our days are pretty pleasant.

Another Little Secret

Steve and I went out last night (I know... I can't believe it either) when he made this clever little observation. Nobody in my family is gainfully employed.

That's not to say they don't work, and it's really only true for a few more days until my mom resumes her job with the HBPA (Horseman's Benevolent and Protective thing-a-majig).

But for the time being, here's the list.

Grandpa. Retired. And 92. Some nerve right!

My dad. Retired.

Mom. Seasonably unemployed.

Aunt Sandy. Grandpa's right-hand man.

Me. Housewife.

Cousin Julie. Grad student.

The girls. The modeling contract hasn't been finalized yet.

We're either the smartest or the laziest family around. Maybe brilliantly relaxed?

Just soup-er

So Carolyn was eating a snack today when Steve sat down next to her with a piping hot bowl of tortilla soup.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Soup."

"Like Superman?"

Lots and lots of laughing.

"Yes, like soup-er man."

"Really like Superman?"

Easter pretties

Here's a sample of the girls in their Easter duds. They were so cute.

Hahahahahahaha

We win. After our tree fiasco Steve and I wondered if it was really worth it. The effort. The near death. The utter humiliation.
Turns out: Yes! Totally worth it. We ended up saving almost $400 over hiring tree people.
Also, I started posting on Grist and have gotten a lot of good feedback, and only a few snarky comments. You can find that here.

Disney — Evil Geniuses

A few months ago, I mentioned how I like the Jo-Jo Circus CD. It was cute, and fun to dance to and just a great CD.

Well, I have a new musical confession. I borrowed from the library "The Best of Pooh and Heffalumps Too"CD.

And I like it. Not like I like Jo-Jo. I like it like I might listen to it even if Carolyn and Penelope weren't around.

Seriously. I love it.

First off, all the songs are by Carly Simon. And everybody knows, nobody does it better. Ha. You see what I just did there? I'm so clever.

Anyhow, I checked out the Heffalump movie, with themes about friendship and missing moms, which instantly won over Carolyn, who already loved Pooh. Next, I'm borrowing the CD.

Next, I'm crying every time I listen to "Little Mr. Roo" and singing top volume, with Carolyn, to "Shoulder to Shoulder."

And the thing is, I'm dreading taking it back to the library. Dreading it.

Oooh. Gotta run. "Shoulder to Shoulder" is on and I don't want to miss a minute.

Urine head

I've decided to continue blogging, even if nobody reads, because otherwise, I'll forget all these great stories.
For instance, are you ever all ready to go and somebody in your group says, "I have to go to the bathroom." So you're like, Fine, and you finish getting everything ready to go.
And you wait. And wait. And wait.
Then you peek in the bathroom and realize your 3-year-old daughter has shoved her head in the toilet, the one she just peed in. Ever happen to you?
No. It's just me? Perfect.

Happy Birthday blog

My Dirty Little Secret turns a year today. It's hard to believe we've been in Normal a year, Penelope is 15 months old and I've maintained a blog for a whole year.

Some exciting things are in the works right now, so I might be making some changes. Of course, because grandmas are used to seeing updates online and my journaling skills are, at best, nil, I will keep posting here regularly. But I think I'll be ending my other blog, I'll call it the best-unread-blog-on-the-Web, in lieu of something new, which I'm sure I'll write about later.

Also, after I take a day to gather all the information I've posted here, I might try updating the format and the focus (which I originally tailored toward the stay-at-home- parenting-is-easy crowd, which sadly, does not follow my blog) to something different. Really all I'm saying is my blog needs an update, like sometimes my living room needs a re-arrange.

Thanks for reading.

Little words

Penelope is really starting to talk, which is fun. She's been using her own kind of language for awhile now, saying things like, "ank oo" when you hand her something or stomping her little feet when she wants a snack.
But now, she says a few words pretty clearly. I think the first word she said really clearly was, "bye-bye," which is really cute because she says it a lot, even when I'm not really going anywhere.

I've been tagged (shrugging)

My top reader at the moment, Sharan, a teen living in India (or so she says. She could be a big, burly man living in Arkansas, but I'll choose to believe her because she seems so sweet) tagged me with this Internet quiz thingy. I'm pretty sure this will bore the pants off most people, but Sharan (who knows WAY too much about pop culture: ) says she's interested so I say, why not.

Here goes:

Three things that scare me:
• Lightning, my children getting hurt and the new gameshow "Are you smarter than a fifth grader?"

Three people who make me laugh:-
• Michelle (she always has some crazy story), Steve, my kids (obviously, I can't count either)

Three things I love:
• My kids, my husband and my dog (still not counting)

Three things I hate:-
• Beans, Hummers (the truck, obviously) and the Bush administration

Three things I don't understand:-
• The Bush administration, math and Mary Worth

Three things on my desk:
• (note* I use the kitchen table as my desk, as my desk-desk is all the way downstairs) my computer, a telephone book and a teddy bear.

Three things I am doing now:
• Listening to Carolyn not nap, waiting for a phone call and not working.

Three things I want to do before I die:
• Find a cure for death, write a book and eat at the French Laundry

Three things I can do:-
• Write snarkily, bake an amazing cake and hold a grudge.

Three things you should listen to:
• Tori Amos (pretty much anything she's ever done), NPR and Pandora

Three (things) you should never listen to:
• Rush Limbaugh, the Bush administration (I see a theme) and, oh, I'll go ahead and say Rush again, because it's so darn important not to listen to him.

Three things I'd like to learn:
• To play golf, to be a wise camper and to write better

Three Favourite Foods:
• Sushi, great Mexican food and lobster

Three beverages I drink regularly:
• coffee, milk (I try) and wine (I try not)

Three TV shows/books I watched/read as a kid:
• Looney Tunes, Smurfs and this storybook/encyclopedia for kids I received as a gift by my second-grade teacher.

Three people I would love to tag:
• Al Gore, all my friends and family, and nobody else because I don't know anybody who blogs.

fiasco

Since even I am not a good enough writer to convey the insanity of today, I will start with one simple piece of advice: If you have a giant tree branch that is dangling over a live electrical wire, for the love of Pete, call a professional.

Now, here's a little taste of this several-day experience.

Chris: Hey Pa. That th're tree company wants $500 to cut down that th're branch.

Steve: Good gosh woman. We'll go on and do it ourselves.

(Several days pass of Steve trying to throw a robe (*editor's note: maybe it would have worked better if he were throwing a rope) over the branch, or at least hit it when he throw it up.)

Steve: Hey ma. I got er. Let's get to pullen.

(Several days of pulling branch pass)

Chris: Yoweeeowlswejkljskldfhjsdfjdsfkjfds

Neighbor's house: Pop

Steve: Oh, now we went and done it. We pulled our neighbor's electric dagnabbits out of that there house.

Chris: Durn Steve. That tree nearly fell on my head.

This could go on for quite a while. Basically, we got the tree down. We did not lose electricity. We now have to pay for the electrician to fix our neighbor's wires, which we somehow managed to pull down. Our neighbors, who laughed off the whole thing, are so awesome I'm thinking of asking if they need any help with their trees.

It's impossible to know how Steve and I only have four brain cells between the two of us. Impossible.

Ahhhhhhh

That's really the only word for today. Ahhhhhhh.

It's going to reach almost 80 degrees today. And, ha, there's still snow on the ground. Isn't that strange?

But for the first time in months, it felt like summer was on her way. We spent all morning at the playground. We had lunch at my favorite vegetarian restaurant. We got ice cream. We walked about 3 miles.

Today is the kind of day that makes staying home with the kids the best job on earth. Well, billionaire jet-setter is probably a little better, but not by much. I'm just so freakin' happy I'm not making any sense.

But who cares! Ahhhhhh.....

I just can't say it enough

Rain gear is totally awesome.

You probably can't tell from the picture — taken of the hardest girl in the world to photograph, with the running and the twirling and the jumping up and down — but she loves her kind-of-new (used) rain jacket and new (new) rain boots. Loves them.

And bonus; they're the only clothing items I can wash off with a hose. And bonus-bonus; look how cute.

And, here's Penelope at the playground today. Going to the playground, on a really nice, warm day, after weeks of being trapped inside my house, with little to do but drink tequila, at noon... I think you know where this is going.

Anyway, the playground totally rules.

Just because I'm so darn proud

Last week, I said Carolyn didn't do great at storytime. Actually, she was pretty awful. She disrupted the rest of the story group, she wouldn't sit still and she wouldn't listen.

And the librarian was like, "yeah right" when I told her she always listens intently to stories at home. No really. She really loves to sit still. Hmmmm. Yeah....

Well, Carolyn and I talked about it a lot during the week and yesterday, she was awesome. Like a different kid. She listened. Reacted appropriately. Sat still. I don't know what happened, but it's awesome.

Whatever it was, rock on Carolyn.... Rock on....

Zoos, traffic and common sense

Yesterday, I felt I could have written a novel based only on my trip to the zoo. That's how strongly I felt about the experience.

But time has a way of clearing your thoughts.

For instance — it is not worth five chapters that I no longer possess any sense of direction from my months of not driving. This is my cross to bear and not really a terrible one, since I no longer drive and getting lost is usually not a problem. It is a little irritating that I don't know which freeway I live near, but this is neither here nor there.

Now, going to a zoo out of town and paying $10, even though if I had waited, as my husband suggested we would have come upon a "free" day and had $10 left for lunch, or cheap giraffe cups or gas, is not enough of a figurative example of a character's shortcomings for a novel to stand. A short story? Maybe.

Last, Penelope pooping in the final minutes of our trip, having no wipes and only a diaper I had used to clean something dusty really has no place in great literature. I'm not even sure why I wrote it here.

Otherwise, the trip was very pleasant. Wild felines have this thing for Carolyn. Everyone remembers the cheetah (if not, I'll post a new link to YouTube because I have no new pictures because I'm very, very lazy... see character's shortcomings above), but yesterday, a tiger who was basically sleeping woke up just to walk back and forth in front of Carolyn.

She must look like a tasty morsel.

New mothering column

I just wrote a new column for The Whole Mom. I think it's pretty funny.

Maybe you will too. Read it NOW.... Just kidding. But really, you should read it now.

Freak out

When Penelope took a second nap today and Carolyn refused even to work on her first, I sent CareBear downstairs to playland. Let mommy have some peace, you know.

So 20 minutes later when Penny work up, we grabbed some juice and headed downstairs. But where was Carolyn?

Not hiding behind the chair. Not in the closet. Not pretend napping in the bed. Not in the dryer, whew. Oh my god, oh my god.... I thought, searching every corner of the basement. She had just disappeared.

Until...

I saw a little blob under the tent. She didn't fall asleep INSIDE IT, mind you. She was under it.

No wonder she's not napping. I foolishly had assumed she'd like a bed with some cozy blankets and stuffed animals. I hadn't considered the "under the tent" option.

For those keeping track

Carolyn and Penelope had their doctor visit this morning. Penelope is still way off the charts in height and head circumference (and at 97 percent for weight), while Carolyn has slowed pretty significantly and is now around the 75th percentile in all three, although I believe her to be smack in the middle of a growth spurt. Last week her size 3 pants fit, this week, not so much.

Interestingly, the girls are about seven pounds apart in weight and just a few inches in height. When holding both of them, it's 60 pounds of girl, not taking my heavy-ass bag into consideration.

No wonder I live with this constant backache.

I've seen the demons of my future — and they're adorable

March 1, 2007.

It marks the day of our first American Girl catalog. For anybody who doesn't know, and I refuse to provide a link, it's a very expensive doll line. It's not an awful doll. It promotes reading and teaches about American history, but she also has very expensive duds (with outfits to match for the little girls) and accessories.

Here's what I see. Carolyn or Penelope six years from now. They love these dolls. All their friends have them. It's what the rich girls have.

And they'll never have enough. Never. They're never going to have as much as some girls, and while there's a good lesson there, it's a doll. Wouldn't it be better to try and have the most knowledge of zoo animals, or music, or just about anything else.

So I wrote the company this morning and asked to no longer receive the catalog. I'm under no illusion that at least one of the girls will "have" to have this doll (that's what saving accounts are for), but it's my prerogative to delay it as long as possible.

What incompetence feels like

Today started out fine enough. We got up. Had breakfast. Drank juice.

You know, all your basics.

Then I decided we'd go to the Bloomington library for some new books and videos, and so Carolyn could go to her first story hour. Steve would drive us there and we'd take the bus back.

This is where the plan fell apart.

First. I told Steve I thought we should all go to lunch together. But a few minutes later, I did some back pedaling. Then some more. Then some more.

Steve, and I quote: It seems like fun. Less fun now than 10 minutes ago, but still fun.

After talking him out of lunch, he dropped us off. The library was fine. Carolyn didn't do awesome at story time (3-5 year olds without parents), but there was no screaming.

I got the wrong DVD. The wrong VHS. The wrong CD.

Still fine.

Then, I went to check out and realized I not only forgot my library card, but my ID. Super.

Thankfully because of my constant late books, lost books and runaway children — all favorites with the library crowd — the librarian remembers me. She let this one slide.

Then we left we walk around downtown. Trouble is, a thunderstorm spitting ice pellets was upon us. By the time we got downtown, we were forced to duck into the closest coffee shop, where much to the dismay of the staff, me and my homeless-looking children decided to stay for a snack.

Steve (sound hero music, dadadadaaaa) comes to rescue us because my missing ID fiasco meant we missed our bus by a few minutes and would have to wait an hour for the next.

In an ice storm. With thunder. And hungry children.

As a side note, we later went for a walk around the block. I suggest to the mother of every 3-year-old in America, buy a pair of rain boots. They rock. Carolyn loves them (always ready to leave the house with rain boots). We looked at several stores before finding her pretty purple boots at TJ Maxx.

I guess people don't buy rain boots anymore. Go figure.

What I hate now

It's commercials that make me cry.

Why are banks and insurance companies making me weepy? What right do they have? Seriously, all they have is a budget to hire kick-ass ad people.

When a bank is showing people looking into their futures and seeing themselves succeed, seeing their little baby children as adults succeed, and you're weepy, you know you've got a problem. A problem with what? I'm not sure.

Visit my other blog. It's much more uplifting.

One more thing

Al Gore rocks. He just said global warming "is not a political issue, it's a moral issue."

Seriously. He rocks, just like Jennifer Hudson's life.

Oscar fun

So I'm sitting here, alone, watching the Oscars. Actually, I'm mostly reading Oscar fug from the girls at Go Fug Yourself. Anyhow, it's mostly boring. When Jennifer Hudson of American Idol fame won for best supporting actress, I expected her to come out and say, "Holy crap. Did I just kiss George Clooney? My life rocks." But instead we got a teary, "Thank you God" speech that made me think maybe that cute girl from "Little Miss Sunshine" should have won.

Whatever. I've got no husband home. No pizza. What kind of Oscar night is this anyway? Steve was called into work because the computers went down for an hour earlier tonight. Seriously. Do these people work at a newspaper or what?

Enough bitter Chris. Life here in Normal has been pretty boring lately. I've been working a lot this last week on this little topic — prom. I don't even remember prom other than I wore a really uninteresting dress. You should see the gorgeous dresses the girls are wearing today. Bright colors. Beaded and jeweled. Lots of poof.

Oh wait. "The Inconvenient Truth" just won. Finally. Something great just happened.

Is cabin fever deadly?

For most of us, probably not. For me? Not really. But I do seem to get an awful case every year.

So there's still eight inches of snow on the ground. So the sidewalks are impassable. So I have to walk in the street with minivans whipping past me.

These are small setbacks for a little playground time. Ahhhh. The playground.

We went three times in two days. And you know what? They loved every minute of it.

And today, we got a few looks that seemed to say, "Somebody take these kids away from this woman. She's obviously an unfit parent or these kids wouldn't be coated in mud."

Hey. It's snow, not battery acid. So they got a little dirty. So I had to carry Penelope through the deep parts. It was 45 degrees outside and I was going to the playground.

Dammit.

The symphony of not napping

I love writing in my blog to the sounds of little girls refusing to nap. It's a pleasure and a treat.

We've been running errands all day on our "car" day. Once a week, I take the car while Steve is at work and get a bunch of stuff done. And it's funny. Little girls love to go to the post office. Who knew?

Earlier this winter, I wrote a long short story to entertain myself and, in an action much like playing the lottery, I entered it in a contest. The grand prize is a writing workshop this summer in Russia. I entered this particular contest because I don't really want to go to Russia, so I figured it was my best chance to win.

If you don't understand that, you've never lived in my head. But trust me, it's my best chance.

The story is about a woman surprised to find herself in Protestant heaven. It's way more autobiographical than I would have liked, but as everybody knows, my life is infinitely interesting... Well, it is to me anyway. Actually, that's not really true either.

I can't take it anymore. I have to rescue my not-napping girls.

Carolyn's 3 years old, but still number 1

We're celebrating Carolyn's third birthday this morning. Cake, presents, pictures. It's been a lot of fun.

Oh, and the snowstorm. That's fun too.

Here are some photos from Carolyn's photo shoot. Every year, I take pictures of the girls on their birthdays in grown-up dresses to watch them grow into them. Carolyn is much harder to photograph than Penelope. In fact, looking back on her first year pictures, these are very similar in the way she looks and what's she's doing.

So here they are. Happy Birthday Carolyn!

Girls love little boxes

We got her first birthday gift in the mail today. It was from her Aunt Sandy, who always sends the loveliest gifts. She sent a jewelry box with nine little boxes for putting little things. In fact, they were already filled with little wooden animals and such.

Carolyn loves it. But Sandy didn't stop there. She bought Penelope a little wooden gift, a purse for me, lots of books (including a Superman for Steve to read to the girls "over and over and over" and homemade cards.

And we were having quite an afternoon (a napless fiasco of a day) and the gifts were a nice break. Here are pictures and a video from the day. Also, at the end of the video, Carolyn is eating a cracker, not the birdhouse.

Snowstorm mode

It's here. The storm of the year.

And boy, is it a doozy. Trapped again, but this time I'm not alone because I imagine most of the city is hidden inside. I made homemade Mac and Cheese for lunch, am letting the girls watch Frosty on the coach cushions spread out all over the living room and watched as my husband left for a 45-minute (three mile) commute to work, where I imagine he'll probably have to spend the night.

I can't begin to tell you how jealous I am. I love drama in the newsroom and weather always works. But Frosty is good too.

Also, in case anybody is wondering, sickness is over. It lasted a good 24 hours and took about that long to get us back to normal. It's death grip was strong, but short, thankfully.

A Sunday to remember

So it happened. All at once, everyone in my family came down with a sickness that sometimes leaves you with the thought, "I've had a good run. Maybe it's just my time to go. And besides, at least I would no longer suffer the indignity of sleeping on the bathroom floor with the rest of my helplessly sick family."

Truth is, I got the lightest version of this killer bug. Steve was by far the worst with Carolyn crawling right behind him. We thought maybe Penelope avoided this until about an hour ago and, yep, she was right along with us.

I have to blame Steve for this one. The newspaper held the first KidsExpo, which was totally genius because it's too cold outside to do anything else. They had these big blowup machines with ladders and slides and such. Carolyn loved them and Steve, poor poor Steve, volunteered to help for several hours, which explains the hierarchy of illness.

Wish us luck. Pray for us. Whatever, but please don't talk about food for a few weeks.

Preschool hysteria

For the first time in about three months, Steve and I shelled out $20 for a babysitter. And do you know what we did??

It better be good, you might think, after all these months of homebound solitude.

Well...We went to an information seminar on preschool. We have fallen into the "parent's who go crazy when getting their kids into preschool" category. Crazy.

We're applying to the Thomas Metcalf school, which is run by Illinois State University. It's an experimental lab school, which mean teaching students use new teaching techniques and yada yada. It's really boring.

But it's a public school and really, really hard to get into, so we figured we'd start applying now. So we got a babysitter and toured the building. Oh so romantic.

I had a playdate with my friend Sara yesterday and we were talking about this preschool/private school craziness. She went to public school and became a university professor. I went to private school and barely had the grades for state school. Sara's friends have a daughter, now in kindergarten, who went to preschool and is now bored.

So, besides for this school and one run through the parks and rec department that is within walking distance of my house (and has the children interacting with the senior citizens who frequent the center), we are not going to go through any craziness for preschool.

Well... not any more than we've already done.

I'm all out of ideas...

And it's only Monday.

My God... It's only Monday!!!

Today, prompted by temperatures that feel like -6 (much warmer than expected), a lack of wheels or really, any place to go, I...

Cleaned the house, top to bottom.

Played pretend playground, complete with blanket rides up and down the hallway.

Played tea party.

Played house.

Played ponies

Baked bread.

So... what am I supposed to do with the rest of this seriously cold week that does not include vodka shots with lunch? What I ask you.

Here are my girls

They're so much fun...

Spoke too soon

Turns out, Carolyn is still 2. Terribly 2.

Today the ladies at the gym said she was sticking everything in her mouth. She has turned the word, "No," into a euphemism for "Screw you mom." And it's not at all uncommon for her to say, "I want (a cookie, to watch Pony show, to hit my sister), right NOW."

No wonder people stick little kids in front of the television. It's so much easier than talking to them.

But it comes and goes. She'll be 16 one day and a perfect angel, I'm sure.

Anyhow, did you know the MMR Varicella Vaccine cost $236? No? Well, that's probably because your insurance covers it. Mine, on the other hand, did not.

But I did learn today the state will sell me the same vaccine for $16.

Oh well. Who needs that extra $220?

Unexpected pleasures

I love it when the girls do unexpected things. Like when Carolyn says something that sounds very adult or I tell Penelope to get her sister and she goes straight for Carolyn's room or when Carolyn counts to 10 in Spanish.

Love it!

You know what I don't love? When Penelope wakes up for three hours in the middle of the night and vomits all over everything. Unexpected? Yes. Pleasure? Not so much.

When Frosty melts

Carolyn is having a really hard time dealing with Frosty's slow and obviously painful death. Right outside her bedroom window, Carolyn has watched our snowman conform to neighborhood celebrity to object of pity. And, maybe later today, subject of mercy.

Yesterday, when temperatures reached into the 40s, the poor thing actually fell over and Carolyn insisted I "fix" him. So I put the melty, dirty snow back together as well as I could, including the head, which I constructed from the snowball-sized noggin of the original snowman along with the mostly melted baby snowman. Eww.

Today, when even the baby hat fell off, Carolyn again asked to fix the snowman. So I explained that snowmen go away when it gets warm but come back every time it snows.

She thought about this for a minute and finally said, "Frosty's broken. The sun did it."

Now I know how Karen from "Frosty the Snowman" felt. I've posted my version of the missing scene from that holiday cartoon, on my Web site, www.gardnerwrites.com

Thank you, oh thank you

In what can only be called a great miracle, both girls slept this morning until 7:30. That is after three consecutive days of pre-6 wake-up calls.

I can't imagine a better way to start the day. For anybody who has slept until 10 in the last year, 7:30 is a very, very, very big deal around here. VERY.

I haven't been posting much because it's been cold and we've pretty much slipped into hibernation mode. Boring. I am so ready for spring to be here.

Here's a short list of what they girls are up to:

Carolyn. Got her hair cut at the beauty shop today. Talking in very fun sentences, i.e., "Daddy. My birthday is in a couple of weeks." and after sharing one of her 132 Cheerios with Penny, "That's enough Penelope. One more and that's enough." Also, she seems to be coming out of her terrible 2 stage, I say very apprehensively.

Penelope. She's totally walking/running. She said, "UhOh," and makes seriously cute faces. She's just a very cute, happy baby.

More snow?

Sure. Here's a movie...

Finally

Some real snow. The morning didn't offer too much in the way of good packing snow, but by afternoon, we had snowman-building snow. So that's exactly what we did.

Seriously, if it's going to be winter, we might as well have snow. Carolyn loved it and we endured the nine-hour session getting ready (boots, snow pants, jacket, scarf, hat, mittens, etc) to play. Now, if it were only June... Ah June...

Anyhow, here are some pictures from today.

I rock

Seriously, I'm loving my Web site. Check it out and hire me to write for large bags of money (complete with little dollar signs on the side) for an international audience.

I prefer to work on an oversea's assignment, something seaside. I'll be expecting my plane ticket in the mail next week.

Top Five Reasons I Need a Date

Number 5: I think of my weekly McDonald's trip with the girls as "eating out."

Number 4: If I don't get my midday catnap, I'm super grumpy come 5 p.m.

Number 3: When scouting for new friends, I'll only consider women with children 2 or older.

Number 2: I call wine, "grown up drink," even after the girls are in bed.

And reason number 1 that I need a night out without children: I not only know all the words to the songs on the "Jo-Jo Circus" CD, it's my favorite CD of the moment.

But who wouldn't love these words,

Jump for Joy. Come on now little lion.
Jump for Joy. There's no harm in trying.
Bend you knees and get down really low,
and when you jump, see how high you'll go.

Someone help me.

You know you're old when...

You go into your 2-year-old daughter's room and tell her to turn that noise down. It's a "Jo-Jo Circus" CD (Lord help us when she develops an appreciation for rock/rap/punk/who-knows-what) and the said daughter likes to play it loud. Very loud.

And now I have to wonder, when our parents told us to turn down the music because it would hurt our ears, were they really worried about our ears? Or were they just trying to get a little peace and quiet?

When I was 2 years old...

...I threw my very first tantrum. I threw my very first tantrum by crying all day. I had no interest in play.

I would not do as told... When I was 2 years old.

It seems like Carolyn would understand not to dump a whole glass of water on the living room coffee table. Not to steal her sister's beloved blankie and then taunt her with it. Not to eat butter or hit me on the head with a screwdriver or try and ride Fife across the living room.

But, she's still 2, at least for another month. What's kind of new, and I fear progressive, is her ignoring my direction until I break into Mother Dearest screeches.

And I have to feel a little bad that she cried for an hour today over a teddy bear we couldn't find. How sad is that? Disappointment, I'm afraid, has begun.

Just wait until she discovers what an ass I am... Poor girl.

Yessie Messy

Here's a little piece from the NY Times article, "Say Yes To Mess."

"Studies are piling up that show that messy desks are the vivid signatures of people with creative, limber minds (who reap higher salaries than those with neat "office landscapes") and that messy closet owners are probably better parents and nicer and cooler than their tidier counterparts."

I'd like to say, "Oh yeah. That's me."

But truth is, I like neat. I think the organization movement is the best thing to happen to families this decade. I just bought a shelving system so Carolyn could learn how to put her toys away properly.

Fun? No. Cool? No

Able to find stuff? Yes. I mean no. Sadly, no....

Rainy days and Thurdays

It's not that I don't like rain. I do. I like sleeping to the sound of rain, watching movies to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window and snuggle up to a large cheesy pizza. Since it's impossible for me to do any of these things with kids, rain has become an effort in frustration.

We went out despite the drizzle. I had the car today (Steve, by the way, has been a real trooper about this one-car thing) so we went to the library. We had loads of fun there. I even kind of hung out with this woman who seemed a lot like me (she knew about the good parking spot AND also needed to fess up to losing a book) and because she was like me, she really didn't know how to spark an interesting conversation. Or maybe she just wasn't that in to me...

Anyhow, it was kind of fun because Penelope and her little girl were playing together, which was totally cute. Penny was kind of following this other kid around and they ended up sitting together watching fish while Carolyn and I did a puzzle.

Since Carolyn was in , "Mommy. Sit here with ME. Play with ME. Sit down mommy" mode, it was nice to have Penelope distracted for a few minutes. And for Penny, nothing's more fun than sitting. Sitting rocks.

Post holiday glow

Today, I was a woman on a mission. I took down all the Christmas decorations. I rearranged the living room. I collected an entire tub of toys for storage. I took in the recycling, including from Christmas. I cleaned the 5,000 tree needles hiding strategically throughout the house.

And I managed to save 75 percent off a wreath at Target's last-ditch sale, go to the park (twice) and watch the Simpson's. I love the end of the holiday season.

It just feels wrong. Who hates Christmas decorations? The endless shopping and eating? The constant stream of gifts?

Well, it's not that I hate them, really. OK maybe a little. I just love resumed order. I love the workweek and its cyclical nature. I love no longer sharing my living room with a tree.

So farewell Christmas/New Year's holiday. Maybe we'll see you around next year.

Hundred acre house

Carolyn has a very active imagination. In one of her games, she has given everyone in the family a role from Winnie the Pooh.

She, of course, is Pooh bear. Penelope is Piglet. Steve is Tigger. Fife is Eeyore and I , sadly, am Rabbit. I say sadly because she matched our personalities pretty accurately and Rabbit's a real pill. Just yesterday, I asked her what Tigger was doing.

"He's working," she said. "He's bouncing somewhere."

Carolyn plays this game so much, we start to think of ourselves in these terms. A couple of weeks ago, when Pooh bear was rising pre-6, I had a little dream. In my dream, I was shooting off an e-mail.

"Dear Tigger. Pooh's up. I hope he wakes you up but I think it'll probably be me. Love, Rabbit."

Awesome gifts

Thanks, everybody, for the awesome gifts. Carolyn loves her Dora outfit, her cats and Elmo. Penelope loves picking up everything on the living room floor and looking at it closely.

Sandy, that picture frame with the photographs was SO awesome. It was amazingly thoughtful. And just so you know, when I moved here, I apparently only packed one of every sock and have not bought socks since so I've been wearing mismatched socks. I thought matching socks were a luxury I just couldn't afford. So thank you for that.

And while gift cards are impossible to appreciate visually, know that I will have the BEST time organizing all this new stuff with the shelves I'm going to buy!

And to everybody, we miss you and wish you all the merriest of Christmas days. Now, off for some Chinese food.

Stocking stuffers

Here are the girls getting their stocking stuffers. Steve tells me it's bad etiquette to stuff stockings with shaving cream and lip balm, but I told him to take up his beef with Santa.

My virtual holidays

Since our family is enjoying it's first, nontraveling, nonworking Christmas in the history of our lives together (pre-dating even), we know we've been placed on "The List" of at least two grandmothers. In a gesture of goodwill, I will try to create a virtual Christmas that will be placed on my blog throughout the day.

In order to be an active participant, I ask that you comment on a couple of entries. It's just like being here, only without that mid-day trapped feeling.

In the meantime, watch a little video I made a few days ago at the park. It's so fun now that Penelope can do more stuff.

Did I mention...

... I could use a new diaper bag? Hmmm. No? Well, I mentioning it now, as a precursor for what I'm about to do.

You see, my diaper bag, a lovely, very expensive Petunia Pickle Bottom, is at the end of the road. She's been a great bag, it's just she's coming apart. I've put her on extended leave in place of a lovely demin bag, which is coated in a fine layer of Goldfish crackers. It work OK, but there are no compartments for diapers, sippy cups, makeup, cell phone, camera, extra clothes, toys, wallet, keys, notebook, appointment book, WD 40, snacks, etc. You get the point.

So BeBeReviews will put me in a sweepstakes for a very nice diaper bag if I mention their Daily Scoop, which has daily (hence the clever name) site with coupons, free shipping alerts, recalls and all sorts of helpful stuff.

We wish you a merry...

We celebrated the first annual, "Gardner Christmas Party."

A few years ago, Steve would have been invited to four... count them, four... Christmas parties. Cutbacks, boss changes and a disease I like to call Scroogitis meant we were invited to one dinner (where we couldn't get a babysitter) and that's it. That means no getting gussied up for a bunch of strangers.

Instead, we had our own party.

First, there was wine and beer. Next, Christmas cookies. And finally, a dinner consisting of nothing but appetizers.

It start out great. There was mingling (So Penelope. What's up with you these days? You're walking I see). There was a little drinking, although I have to say Carolyn and Penny have a little problem holding their juice. And then, there was a naked baby running down the hall.

But all parties have their problems. Carolyn, who woke up at 5 and didn't nap, just couldn't hang. At one point, we wondered why she had been in her room for so long. Steve went in to find she had put herself to bed, without dinner, around 5 o'clock.

There's always one. Right. Right. You know what I mean.

All in all, the first Gardner Christmas Party was a success. We got all the departments together. There was laughter and good food. Nobody photocopied their butt.

And we'll all be able to face Monday morning with a good conscience.

So Sad : ( So Happy : )

I just love these pictures of Penelope.

Ah shucks Pen. Don't be so sad.

That's better!

What have I got to be angry about?

In the grand scheme — Nothing. That is, my family is not plagued by war. I don't have constant fears of disease or hunger. If I really wanted, I could have a pizza with everything at my house in 30 minutes, no questions asked.

But I'm still fuming. I'm mad that the T Mobile lady made me cry when I was canceling my service today. I'm mad that we can't sell our car. I'm mad that, apparently, the paper is holding pay for freelancers until the next pay period, which is after Christmas.

Seriously, how mad am I at that!

And it comes down to this: a few blogs ago I said I love "It's a Charlie Brown Christmas" because I love Peanuts. But it's more than that.

I am Charlie Brown.

"I just don't understand Christmas, I guess," Charlie laments. "I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."

Hear, hear Chuck.

"Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest."

Ho-Ho-Horrible

The fam and I went to this Christmas thing last night and Carolyn got her picture taken with Santa Claus. There was a really long line and about 10 minutes into waiting, Santa got up, moseyed downstairs and walked outside. Another mom and I were speculating on Santa's whereabouts (he was hot, he needed a smoke) when Steve and Penelope came up to us.

"Where do you think Santa went?" I asked.

I heard this: "We went to shake the dew off the North Pole." After my new friend stopped speaking to me, I told Steve that joke was not only not funny, it was pretty creepy.

Steve swears he said, "He went to shake the dew off at the North Pole." Oh. That's much better.

My friend slowly started making conversation again, until, near the end of the line, I caught Steve's eye and made a overt gesture (Steve said) that would have been inappropriate at a Paris Hilton party truck stop. I swear I was pointing up, you know, toward the North Pole.

Anyhow, the picture of Carolyn and Santa (a Polaroid, so I can't post it here) was really terrific. We left as friendless as we came. Maybe more so.

Happy freakin' holidays

Every year around this time I start remembering this one simple fact: I don't care much for Christmas.

Everybody is distracted. The weather is crappy. You feel as if you should be buying more even though you really don't need to buy anything but, everyday, the newspaper is full of ads promising huge discounts if you arrive at 7 a.m. and you think, "Maybe I should stock up," or even less Christmasy, "I could really use a wet-dry vac," even though you haven't bought for all your cousins yet but it's so much easier to buy for yourself.

It's all very stressful.

But there are three parts of the holiday I really enjoy — Christmas music, "It's a Charlie Brown Christmas," and Christmas cards. The music I love because, especially for religious tunes, the lyrics are so beautiful. Charlie Brown because I just love Charlie Brown and all things Peanuts. And Christmas cards because I love that we have a chance every year to write all the people we care about.

But the thing is, most people today don't do Christmas cards properly. If you're going to waste all that paper sending cards, write something nice. Sure, it's great to see what your kids look like, but doesn't that seem a little narcissistic (not at all like blogging) to send a bunch of pictures of your family direct from Wal-Mart, the holiday greeting pre-printed.

Just e-mail them. It's the same thing only it saves me from choosing whether to stick little Dick and Jane in a dusty box or toss them. Really, there are no winners.

And don't give me the "I'm so busy" line. Banks, not families, send preprinted cards. Spend, like, one hour less at Kohl's each week and tell your friends you miss them.

And FYI, I've received three cards so far. Steve's aunt Judy, my aunt Chris and my mother-in-law. Each of them followed proper holiday card etiquette.

Thank you.

Mommy, mommy, mama, mama, mom, mom, ma...

And so it's happened.

Carolyn (shown below),

Has become a mommy's girl.

This morning, during a crying fit from Carolyn who refused to let Steve help her unzip a boot or read a story or talk to her, she got sent to her room. Steve went to get her and Carolyn screamed, "I want mommy."

"What about daddy?" Steve asked.

"You can have Penelope," Carolyn told him.

Whew. At least that part of a divorce is settled.

Guilt! It's my superpower

Nothing feels as empty as winter stay-at-home mothering. Especially for the carless.

As Steve was leaving for work, I was telling him about how I feel like a big-old lazy bones. I should be taking the kids out, exposing them to humans, buying stuff, seeing Santa and other suburban-esque tasks. Instead, I'm homebound today because of frigid temps and impassable sidewalks.

"I'm a failure."

I didn't exactly say that, but it was the general tone. Anyhow, Steve pointed out I just lost two weeks of house guests, hosted Thanksgiving, wrote two stories for my freelance gig, lived through a major winter storm (other than house guests) and kept everyone in cookies and cakes. And today, he also pointed out, I would be doing laundry, baking, cleaning the bathroom and playing with the girls.

When he put it that way, I felt better for a minute. But then I put on Elmo and thought, "Nope. Still a failure. Might as well blog about it."

And I did!

Hectic holidays

The Gardner family just finished two weeks worth of grandparent visits. Whew (said dramatically, wiping symbolic sweat from forehead)! It was really nice to have Carolyn and Penelope spend time with the grandparents, but now back to business.

Last night: Christmas tree. Today: Sock puppets. It's a sweatshop around here.

Penny had her 1 year appointment last week. She is nearly 26 pounds and 32 inches, both at 100 percent for her age. Her head circumference is over 100 percent. My doctor said her son also had a huge head and an ego to match.

Happy Birthday baby!

Penelope is 1!

We had a great morning, opening presents and eating cake. Mom was here to make sure the girls were sufficiently spoiled. Now we all need naps.

For Carolyn, I started taking pictures of her at 1 with a grown up dress. I plan to take a picture every year so she could see how she grew into the dress. I did the same for Penelope today. For her, I chose my wedding dress. Here's the most beautiful baby is the world:

Black Friday treat

Still digesting the turkey day feast, I got up at 4 a.m. to buy an $80 digital camera and a bunch of Christmas gifts. So if you get something weird for Christmas, just know I probably paid $10 or less and think about how it's the thought that counts and all that.

Anyhow, we're back in videos. Here's Penelope training for her first marathon.

Go Blue

Today was a big day.

Michigan played Ohio State, number 2 v. number 1, to a much anticipated, much hyped event. Never before had this rivalry met with such status at stake. Famed U of M coach Bo Schembechler's death could be matched by no other as a prelude to the enormity of the event.

Alas, the game did not end well for poor Michigan.

But even as the Wolverines struggled to regain the lead, Penelope took an important step. Today, of all day, she learned to walk.

Cheers could be heard throughout our house for most of the afternoon, for one reason or another.

But take heart Michigan fans, Penelope was born on the day of a very important match-up between the Steelers and the Colts. Steve was heartbroken when his second daughter's birth preceded an enormous loss by just a few hours.

But the Steelers went on to win the Super Bowl. Which means what?

It seems to mean Penelope's accomplishments are measured by the success or failure of sports teams. And what does that mean?

Maybe it says we watch too much football.

Helping out a friend

My other blog is getting lonely. Go visit it.

Carolyn figured out how to use the iPod. The other day, she was spinning around the kitchen wearing headphones singing, "Dededededed, Yeah!" I presume she was dancing to Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison" or maybe his "Cocaine Blues."

Oh, and she wasn't wearing any pants.

It always makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy when I see how much like me she's becoming.

The Whole Mom

A new edition of The Whole Mom is out. Check it out here and read my column here.