Halloween

Dutch was going to be a puppy for Halloween. Then she was going to be a princess. Then she was going to be a pirate. Then she was going to be "Superkitty." Then she found a pair of bunny ears in one of her random boxes of junk, and decided to be a bunny. No, a bunny with magical powers. Then today at tap-dancing class she got jealous of the kids in the store-bought Disney Princess costumes, and decided that she was going to be a ROYAL bunny.

state of zen

I am happy. It seems to happen every quarter - I get overwhelmed and exhausted and feel awful that I'm doing many things badly... and then I get mysteriously happy. Things seem kind of bright and sunshiny and friendly. (It's been raining for a week.)

I'm still frayed and weary and cranky, but I suddenly suspect that I may be, in spite of the cynicism and meanness and pettiness, a basically happy person. That's a nice thing to realize at the advanced age of 33.

I think Skipper may be a happy person too, under her crankiness. She smiles a lot.

overwhelmed

I accidentally posted this as just a title. That would have been accurate. I'm overwhelmed. Also, our camera is still broken, and I haven't seen the camcorder thingy since we moved. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. For now, though, there will be no photos, no movies, and hardly any text. Definitely no interesting text.

Nobody here has H1N1 yet, but it's only a matter of time, since practically every other child in Skipper's classroom has had it.

That's the news.

Have a nice fall!

village

First of all, this is totally true. I love the way people on the bus always want to interact with Skipper. If I hold her so she's looking over my shoulder, she inevitably ends up having a conversation with a total stranger.

Second of all, shared housing is working out very well so far. I know all sorts of weirdness could develop, but so far there's just been shared meals, shared housework, and even some marvelously shared parenting. So far they have done the following with Dutch:

1. Walked the dog a bunch of times. Apparently, one time after I warned Dutch as she left not to talk Brendan's ear off, she spent half the walk talking incessantly, then switched over to walk on his other side, and said "now I'm going to talk your other ear off!" and talked incessantly the whole way home. He has perfected the noncommital, not-really-listening "mmmhmmm."
   
2. Made a scarecrow.
3. Made cupcakes.
4. Made sock puppets.
5. Watched her tap-dance.*

They're providing some of the fun-parent parts of parenting that Cook and I are currently too stressed and weary to provide. (Actually, we never provide the let's-make-a-sock-puppet sorts of parenting. ) Dutch is a lucky kid. We're watching carefully and trying to keep her from abusing their kindness while simultaneously taking as much advantage of them as possible; hopefully we'll be able to maintain a balance that works for everyone.


* She's taking tap dance classes at the community center this fall instead of ballet. She has absolutely no sense of rhythm whatsoever, so item #5 on this list may be the most impressive.

Tomorrow, crack.

Yesterday Dutch asked Cook if he would please make a cake when they got home. Actually, could he just leave her in the kitchen with an open bag of sugar, please?

In further discussion, it emerged that one of her classmates had smuggled several small packets of sugar (the kind you get with your coffee) into the daycare. This is, of course, not allowed. So some of the kids, being old enough to understand the concept of Sneaking, hid behind a bush in the playground and furtively ate sugar. The sweetness and the thrill of getting away with such a taboo seem to have delighted Dutch. Not being old enough to understand the concept of Really Sneaking, she told us all about it, and then tried to recreate the sensation by conning us into leaving her in the kitchen with an open bag of sugar.

She's so open, still. She "sneaks," but then delightedly confesses all. But now I can see that the doors and windows are beginning to close...

Not a coincidence

I thought Dutch was a bad sleeper (night-time waking, very short naps, no naps at all at home after age 2, only sleeping the whole night in her very own bed since age 4) because of her personality. It had NOTHING to do with me. Now that Skipper is also a bad sleeper (infrequent naps usually around 20 minutes long, no longer than 40 minutes), I'm beginning to suspect that I am actually just really bad at this particular aspect of parenting. What am I doing wrong, all you parents of sleeping babies? Was there a memo that I missed?

Rather than believe that I am a bad parent, I've decided to instead believe that both of my perfect children are just so very eager for life that they can't bear to miss anything, so they fight sleep with all the substantial stubbornness they can muster, scrabbling for just... one...more... minute...of... consciousness. That's it, right?*

Part of my problem is that we downsized from a king-sized bed to a full-sized bed, and the complaining, wiggling baby somehow looms much larger at 3 AM than she did before. Also, I'm really tired.

*This is the I'm-A-Bad-Mommy-Which-Actually-Makes-Me-A-Good-Mommy,-So-Ha! school of thought, in which kids benefit from benign neglect, and my kid (who eats nail parings and off the floor ) while I blog is going to be an independent, creative, well-balanced genius, while your kid (who is over-scheduled with all that soccer and music classes ) is going to end up being a stressed-out, unhappy investment banker (a horrible fate). So Ha!

Skipper explores unconsciousness

I think my life is just going to be crazy for seven more weeks. I don't see much respite ahead!

In the hallway outside Skipper's room at the daycare, the teachers have posted one-page reports on things they've observed in the classroom. It's a pretty academic daycare, and they tend toward little stories with pictures of a baby, or several babies, doing something developmentally interesting. They're captioned with titles like "Oliver discovers the window," or "Lincoln explores his hands." There's one picture of Skipper. There's no caption. She's sleeping.

Skipper is the youngest baby in the daycare, and is having the hardest time adjusting. What she does there, mostly, is cry and sleep. (She sleeps very well there, actually, maybe because she sees no point in staying conscious.) She's always crying when I leave her there, and either crying or asleep when I come to pick her up. I'm finding this quite painful. The room is lovely, the teachers are really nice and seem very competent. There's nothing the least bit wrong about the place. It's just wrong to be leaving my very sad baby behind.

But... apparently she did better today. It'll get better. And someday, I'm going to unpack.

We moved.

It happened. We're alive. There's a lot of unpacking to do now.

On the other hand...

I find everything I'm doing to be interesting and rewarding, as a whole. Yes, there's too much going on in my life right now, but I'm pretty lucky to be overwhelmed by good stuff, rather than crappy stuff. And Skipper has the softest, most smooch-able belly ever. Plus, I've got all (!) of you people to worry about me. So, you know, I should probably stop whining. Thanks for all your good wishes!

Still alive

I am still here. Now all four of us are sick (to varying degrees) and I have lots of homework and I am having terrible insomnia, and I don't know how the stuff remaining in our apartment is going to get packed. I am feeling very sorry for myself. If my entire reading audience (no, really, ALL of you) could fly out to Portland this weekend, that would be very helpful.

If you can't make it, you should take a moment on Saturday to think of us. Set down your mug of coffee and your paper, put your slippered feet up on the ottoman, look out the window at the beautiful fall weather, tip your head back in your easy chair... and think of us. Moving. All day.

I'll be thinking of you. Actually, I'll be thinking of how nice it'll be once we've settled in, and the fact that our housemates are cooking us a big welcome-home dinner on Sunday. Once I've stopped whining.

Really, what I want to know is WHY DO WE HAVE SO MANY BOOKS!?!? WHY!!!!!!!

Where IS Mama?

For want of a nail.

Holy crapola - things are crazy here. Skipper and Dutch have colds, and Skipper is sliming everything in that special unique way of snotty babies everywhere. We've finally started packing (because hey, we're moving IN A WEEK!!), and we keep having cascades of minor problems. Here is an example:

We need to sell our bed. It won't fit in our new home. In order to sell the bed, we needed to take a picture of it to post on Craigslist. The camera lens is broken, so we needed to find the other lens, which hadn't been seen in over a year. We finally found it, but it's not going to work (it's a zoom lens, and we can't get far enough away from the bed unless we climb the tree outside the window). So we're going to make a video of it instead. I just wish someone would be our spokesmodel, like maybe this guy.

Anyway, things are crazy. I have tons of homework, and tons of packing, and Skipper's snotty nose made her want to nurse all night, so I'm exhausted. I shouldn't even be taking the time to write this. I'll tell you all about my exciting new job and exciting classes when I have time, like maybe in January.