Happy Days

Well, not really. My dad's health situation continues on its path of grimness, so I wanted to share some very happy moments.

Carolyn started preschool today. Since she attended the summer program, it was pretty anticlimactic but still cool because she's in this program for a full year, they're using the big classroom and Carolyn was an old pro. Penelope and I went to the park (translate: I was once again blowing off work) to enjoy the super nice fallish weather we were having today. This first picture looks like a 3-year-old clone of my sister-in-law Monica.



Also, I received a perfect score on my first anatomy and physiology quiz, which is quite a feat. I was the only person at my lab table to get a 100 percent. I'm queen of the table, I was quick to tell them.

Carolyn and Penelope love each other very much and are best friends.



Schnuck's grocery store just today opened it's new store, which is about a mile from our house and right off the bike trail. I'll be able to take my bike to grocery shopping!!! Hurray. I've been waiting for this for a long time. I can totally shop as I go rather than stock up for a full week or more. My mostly car-free lifestyle is complete.

The girls and I WILL be going this afternoon...

Deal of the century

Carolyn's been ready for a big bed for some time now. Steve and I have been saying we'll get her one, and she keeps asking.

So it was really a stroke of luck that today, when I was checking the classifieds, I found a garage sale ad that included a twin bed. When we went to look at it, we found a the most beautiful girl bed and Sealy mattress set for $125. It's perfect. I even got two identical ballerina quilt sets for another $25.

And the couple, who were so nice, delivered it for us. I tell you this: patience pays off. It's the green parenting trifecta — gorgeous, affordable and recycled.

Here are the girls, and Fife, enjoying the fancy new nighty-night.

I was only gone THREE days

Steve, recently deemed St. Husband by my mom and aunt, is really a great guy. While I was in Michigan the last three days to see my dad, Steve sent me this video for my birthday.


See!!! That's seriously the sweetest, most touching thing anybody has ever done for me. The big lug.

Also, he tended to the girls, endured a killer stomach bug (which I have also, which we believe to be gifted from Penny earlier in the week) and always helped me make tough decisions. He really is great.

But in three days, he made lots of little stupid husband mistakes. Since his sainthood means I won't actually nitpick him apart right here, for fear of massive retribution from my family, I will say that when I left on Saturday, Carolyn was just a sweet, forthright 3-year-old.

I came home to find her a seasoned liar.

Fibbing is probably more accurate, and she's not even all that good at it.
One day, she was kind of grumpy when Steve asked her what sound cows make.

"I don't know," she said.
Steve asked her if they say, "Moo."
"No, they don't say Moo," she said. "The say Do."
Really, Steve said. Do?
"Yes," she told him. "They used to say Moo. Now they say Do."

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

And yes, I blame Steve. St. Husband Steven James Gardner made our perfectly sweet daughter into a liar. And secretly, I think he's kind of proud...

Bad day

Here's picture from less than two weeks ago...

Seriously. Look at the happy healthy dad. He's old and all, but still, he's great. Except that today he had to go to the hospital and they found out he had a heart attack.

Shit....

Other people's parents have heart attacks. Not my parents. So you see why I'm so surprised. My mom and aunt have taken care of everything, and they say everything is fine and that dad's fine, but I still feel like a horrible daughter, several hours away trying not to think about how slowly this day is going.

So, I decided to bake myself a birthday cake. It's a butter cream cake that has a whopping pound and a half of butter, but you do what you can to get by. Carolyn's very on-board with this idea.

So ends the summer of Chris

It's been fun. Really it has. Riding around town on my bike, going to the pool.

But my super-easy, carefree summer life is at an end — abruptly. After a series of trips with the girls, more freelance and my new decision to take an anatomy and physiology class, it's no more easy street (Annie reference) for me. And it's too bad, because I really enjoy being tan and well rested.

It's a lot like living in Normal. This summer, when the roads were clear (important for anybody new to cycling) and I didn't have to run into a tiny co-ed leaning over her mostly empty shopping cart gabbing into her phone in every aisle at the grocery store, I came to appreciate small-town life. But they're back... The students. And while I thank students for giving me a lively little downtown with good restaurants and such, I hate them.

They're dirty, mostly stupid and just annoying. At Kroger yesterday, a pretty little thing was stroking her hair when she asked her boyfriend: "What's the difference between white vinegar and balsamic?

Well, one is used to clean toilets and the other is for eating. But whatever. I left her to mull over this quandary.

And I leave you with the idea that I'll be posting less. I'll try to keep up the pics, but there will definitely be less musings. For you, it's like summer break in a college town.

Bliss.

Descent into madness

I'll say this about our overnight trip to Chicago — we're better prepared then most when the apocalypse happens.

Steve and I have a long and storied history of not doing things like other people. Instead of driving in a nice air conditioned car, we take a crowded train. Instead of taking cabs, we take the subway. Instead of being normal, we insist the modern conveniences that make our country great are a practice in excess.

And so when we take pictures before we board the train, and Steve said now starts our descent into madness, he knows what he's talking about.

Our trip was mostly great. We ate at great restaurants, had fun with the girls, enjoyed the sites. But when we had to leave our favorite restaurant early because the screaming girls refused to eat (and they ALWAYS eat at Frontera, because the food is THAT good) and I was left alone to scarf my sustainable seafood while choking back tears, you know the descent has begun.

Thanks goodness for the margaritas.

And here's the kicker. There was a couple on our train with two girls (5 and 3) who were obviously video watching, minivan driving, American Girl type people. After thoroughly judging them because they both stole our elevator and our prime seats, they saved our ass by inviting our girls to watch a movie with their girls on the trip home. And to boot, they were incredibly friendly.

Turns out we are not superior. We're just a stinky, tired family whose long road to crazy was much shorter than expected.

Now, see our photos.

Just in time

Penelope finally said OK to the water park slide. It took all summer, and the pool closes in a week, but she did it!

Now, that's all she wants to do.

Dumb dog

It's all about Annie. That's why Carolyn suddenly needs to hug and pet Fife all day long. And I could tell her a billion times not to step on Fife's paws, but it took Annie's love for her big shaggy dog Sandy to teach Carolyn that stepping on paws is just wrong. And now she's trying to teach Penelope.

Annie is a wonderful movie. I don't think I ever saw it as a kid, and the only reason we own it is because my father-in-law bought it for Carolyn, presumably to irritate Steve, who has horrible memories of his sister's constant loop of the catchy musical on the VCR.

But I just love it. I love Carol Burnett as the evil Mrs. Hannigan. I love the sappy music. I love the orphans. I love that I always get weepy when they sing this:

True he ain't pedigreed, Sandy, there ain't no better breed.
And he really comes in handy,
'Specially when you're all alone in the night
and you're small and terribly frightened it's
Sandy, Sandy who'll always be there!

But most of all, I love that Carolyn loves Fife enough to bury him beneath a pile of her dolls.



It's high praise indeed, as you can see. It's also one of Carolyn's favorite pastimes.

My new table

Steve bought me two bar stools the other day. Yes...

And not "yes" for the reasons everybody thinks, although I'm not opposed to drinking tequila on a barstool.

No, these stools are for the girls. They can sit at the counter while I cook, which keeps me from stepping on them because they refuse to leave me alone when I'm in the kitchen. Bonus, they can help.

Like Carolyn helping me shuck corn for lunch. Corn, incidentally, we drove our bike to get yesterday straight from Farmer Henry.



And here are the girls this morning, "helping" me make pancakes.

We love a parade

In the last few years, the family and I have been to our share of small-town parades. And yet I never quite got it. Neither Steve or I are from small towns, so we were always left feeling, "What is so great about a parade?"

Well, Carolyn filled us in Saturday. It's the candy.

It was the first time she really "got" the parade candy. You should have seen her standing there, timidly waving to the passing cars, waiting for them to toss handfuls of Tootsie Rolls at her. It was a really crappy parade, all in all, but it was the most fun I'd ever had at one.

Here are some pictures.




In the afternoon, we went to the pool. Yes, again. It's just such a wonderful, wonderful place. And yesterday, temps in the mid-80s and humid, there was little else to comfortably do, yet the pool was almost empty. This meant I could sit back and watch the girls – with no chance of losing sight of them in the crowd – and stay for almost two hours.

Anyhow, this is what two hours of pool looks like when you get home. Early bedtimes are a wonderful thing.

Hot dogs and poop = pool fun

I don't know what came over me today. On the way back from the pool, I stopped and got a chili dog and french fries.

Now, occasionally I leave the pool a little hungry, from the water and sun and such, but rarely do I desire anything larger than a small salad, dressing on the side, after spending time at the toddler pool.

Because while there are a good share of normal moms, there's a disproportionate amount of women who instructed doctors to return their bodies to circa 1992. I totally know it's possible to mostly get back in shape, but there's only so far a women with three kids can go before a tuck-tuck here and a lift-lift there happens.

Also today at the pool, I was pondering the contents of my pool bag, which I always take even though it's an extra 10 pounds in the back of the bike. When I was sorting through the sunscreen and plastic alligators, I came across two plastic bags.

Why do I need plastic bags?

Here's why.

When your baby girl has a big, wet, carrot-induced, sloppy... well, you know... when you change her, you better hope you have a plastic bag. And when the towel you changer her on is rendered unusable, you better be thankful you have another one.

And I was.

Computer savvy

A few days ago, Carolyn asks Steve, "Can we go to pbskids.org?"

Sure, Caillou isn't the biggest branded character around, but there's still danger lurking on PBS. Anyhow, Steve said OK.

Today, I set up the old Mac downstairs for Carolyn to use, and it went a little better than I would have liked. She picked up using the mouse in like 30 seconds and started playing games on her own in about 10 minutes.

It was pretty amazing.

Here are some pics of the girls on another nature outing (because our lives rarely revolve around media, of which we are lacking), a picture of Carolyn this morning (tell me she doesn't look like Boo from Monster's Inc!) and video of Carolyn singing. It's a real song, "Little Mr. Roo" from my favorite children's CD, although it's a little hard to tell.

Also, new post at Gristmill. It's about food and it got people all wound up. I stopped paying attention yesterday.

Things you might not know about the girls

Penelope: We're almost positive she's going to be left handed.

Carolyn: Knows all the words to the Winnie the Pooh song. "Winnie the Pooh. Cuddly little snuggly all stuffed with fluffies."

(note: I actually saw somebody else write out the lyrics last night and they were completely different then mine. So I looked it up and it's actually " Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff. He's Winnie-the-Pooh." I guess nobody really knows the words.)

Penelope: Loves to dress up. I just bought a glass pitcher full of beaded necklaces at a garage sale last week for $4, and Penelope is way more interested than Carolyn in draping them around her neck.

Carolyn: Can remember I told her I would buy ice cream at the grocery store three days before I actually went shopping.

Penelope: Thinks the bike is a car.

Carolyn: Loves the part in the Wizard of Oz where the wicked witch says, "I'll get you my pretty. And your little dog too." She makes me say it in my mean voice over and over again.

Penelope: Caught herself with one hand when she fell through monkey bars a few weeks ago. She is so much more coordinated than the rest of us.

Carolyn: Insists on listening to her "grown up" CD every times she goes to sleep. She knows the words to the first song, "She's Got a Way" by Billie Joel.

More pool fun. This time, with pictures!

We love the pool. Love it. Love it. Love...

Anyhow, we go several times a week. I venture to say we've gone about 75 percent of the days it's been open. We have a membership, so we usually only go for about an hour, which is totally perfect.

So here are some pics and a video I took today, just so everyone is jealous by our super fun summer. Enjoy, suckers...

I am no longer a hypocrite

The Mazda has been sold.

This means that my pretend one-car family is now actually a one-car family. While we've taken advantage of this second car less than a dozen times in the last year, it still feels scary to not have that option.

Plus, I loved the Mazda, the first car I ever bought new. Farewell sweet Protege. Fly thee to the moon. Or to Eureka, Ill., where you live now.

Oh Carolyn

Carolyn and I haven't had the best mommy-daughter thing lately. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, has been an argument. Wonder where she gets that???
So I almost doubled over on the floor today when she gave me this...
Cooking Macaroni and Cheese for dinner, so it's kind of hot in the kitchen, where everybody insists on occupying space.
Carolyn opens the refrigerator.
"What are you doing in there?" I ask, ready to pounce.
"Coolin' off."

Trust me. It's the funniest thing that's happened at our house in days.

When festivals attack

It's always a little disappointing when a trip to the downtown festival is substantially less fun than, say, a trip to the post office. Or the doctor. Or crazy Auntie Lucy's trailer home with her 15 smelly cats and homemade peanut brittle.
Yes, it's another edition of "We are awesome parents."
The family and I decided to check out the Sugar Creek Art Festival in downtown (recently renamed, for whatever reason, uptown) Normal. It has a lot of nice stuff. Art stuff, but also music and festival food and at least one guy who photoshops the heads of dogs on people. But here's the first problem: It's roughly 115 degrees in central Illinois in July and our kids are Pig Pen-esque.
So when I took the bike, parked it too far away from where we set up shop, went back to get it and finally reconnected with the family, I knew deep down that we had erred in judgement.
In the meantime, Steve was bombarded on all sides with families choosing to stand directly between him and the band, which was about half a football field away, a grandpa feeding his group to a round of ice cream cones and little kids delving into their endless candy supply.
And to top it all off, Penelope lost her balloon right before we left and cried all the way home. All two-miles, 115-degrees of it.
Sometimes I think, "Man. Look at all these families having an great time at this thing. What is our problem?" I believe our failure to see an SUV with mega-air as a viable solution is a beginning to understanding the slightly sticky, extremely sweaty approach to child rearing we have come to love.
That and we just can't say no to festival food. Bad festival food. Bad.

So you're not getting enough pics, huh?

I know sometimes it feels like you just don't see Carolyn and Penelope enough. More pictures, the grandmas clamor, because there are other moms out there posting like 50 photographs a day and they know it can be done, if only I cared enough.

Oh you sneaky Catholic moms with your quiet guilt. I hear you.

Loud and clear in fact. In the last seven months, we have gone from zero to three cameras. First, I bought a really cheap one to keep me in the game. Next, Aunt Sandy donated her camera to us. And finally, last weekend, Aunt Judy gave us her 5.1 megapixel Sony, the same camera we finally put to rest (um, stopped working due to excessive abuse) less than a year ago.

So here's what you want, family. More pictures. And speaking of guilt, Steve and I really could use some alone time so our marriage doesn't come crumbling down around us. Hint, hint.

First, here's Carolyn and her cousin Jeremiah. The girls ADORE Jeremiah.

Next, Penelope. Girlfriend has a runny nose, greasy-sunscreen hair and still looks fab.

Finally, all the kids right before Jeremiah went home.

Beets and broccoli

I'm only slightly bragging when I say Carolyn would rather eat broccoli than chicken nuggets. If she gives up all meat by the time she's 12, I wouldn't be at all surprised. But my dreams of a veggie lover were crushed tonight as I was making roasted beets and beet-green pasta.

I was skinning the beets, which I think are the most beautiful, most exotic, most delicious vegetables in any garden. There's something about the deep, velvety color mixed with such sweetness.

Anyhow, I was cutting them when I gave Carolyn a little piece. She literally made herself gag so she wouldn't have to swallow it.

"Yuck," she said. "That's really gross."

Oh Carolyn. Poor, misled Carolyn. I blame Steve, who said beets remind him of communism. They stain everything they touch. And they're used in a lot of Russian dishes. Or something like that.

Nature-y

The girls and I went down to the stream the other day to check out ducks and fish and stuff. It was pretty funny, because Penelope has taken forever to get used to the pool, but she walked across the stream (me: "Um, Penny, why don't you come back honey. Penelope....") like she was raised on a river.

She did lose one of her boots that day, which kind of stinks, but it was still a lot of fun. As you can see, they didn't let the river-depth/boot-height ratio limited them.

A series of humiliating events

Do you know how annoying unpacking can be? Well, try it after you packed, drove 180 miles, ate at two fast food restaurants, shopped at Wal-Mart and then returned home because you were sleepy.

Yeah. I pretty much hate myself too.

The girls and I were on our way to Michigan to see Julie, one of my all-time favorite peeps. And while it's impossible to articulate what happened to me, let me say there was a lot of screaming and crying involved, only the girls were perfect.

A friend of mine I had intended to meet for lunch said, "Good for you for knowing your limitations."

I think she meant, "You are such a loser." Anyhow, my stress list was running a teensy bit high. I have five stories out with editors, only one of which has actually been edited (you can see it here). My inlaws are arriving at my house hours after I had scheduled to return to Normal.

And finally, I had a pretty awful case of insomnia last night coupled by a headache I realized was the result of grinding my teeth.

Excuses, excuses. I had a 2-day window this year to see Julie and totally blew it. Good for me, for knowing my limitations.

Hooray for me...

Top five

Here's my Top Five indications I haven't spent enough time cleaning the house because it's so nice outside.

5. When you find your long-dead cat's Christmas stocking in the middle of the living room. In June.

4. That kind-of icky, rotting food smell is not coming from your refrigerator. It's coming from your stove.

3. It makes about 45 minutes of scavenger hunting to gather all the stuff you need for the pool. Every time you go.

2. You only go into the basement rec-room if you absolutely must.

And 1. When you shampoo the carpet, instead of getting that mildly annoying, not completely unpleasant, chemical smell, it makes the living room stink of wet dog.

Carolyn is just... weird

The girls and I had an awful pool day yesterday. Let me begin by saying it was due. We've been almost every day since it opened and walked away with happy memory after happy memory.

To top it all off, the bad day was kind of my fault.

Carolyn, aka little fishy, loves the pool and everything related to it. At the toddler pool, there's this pretty long slide that requires kids to walk around the landscaping to the top and wait in line.

Only Carolyn isn't so good at the line waiting. She'll only go down the slide if there is NOBODY in line behind her. So yesterday, I was getting a little tired of continually hauling Penny (who will NOT go down the slide) up and down the ramp to help Carolyn.

It ended in an ugly meltdown and a very, very tired mom.

Anyway, I was telling this to Steve and he said it always looks like she has to go to the bathroom. Lightbulb ON... Yes, I say, and I know why.

They play music at the pool. One of the speakers is directly above the waiting-in-line area. It's often of the 80s variety.

Carolyn is dancing.

She gets up there, waits for a minute and just can't help herself. She gets to moving her little feet so fast that of course she can't be bothered with a line.

So what if all the kids look at her like she's bonkers. So what if it takes her 20 minutes to get down the slide. So what...

If the girl has to dance, who am I to stop her?

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.