Resolutions

I don't have any resolutions. I haven't really caught up with my life enough to feel in control enough to make changes. I can't remember the last time I felt caught up with my life. Maybe 1992? No, probably not.

No, wait! I do have a semi-resolution: I'm going to write some real letters this year, if I can remember how to write things by hand.

Cook and Dutch are sitting on the floor right now, drawing pictures and waiting for the New York New Year, which we will celebrate with sparkling cider and a round of memories of 2010/hopes for 2011. Then Dutch will be allowed to stay up as late as she wants. She's never yet made it to midnight, but Cook and I almost never do, either.

2010:

1) Cook got a job with benefits. BENEFITS!!!

2) I graduated with another useless degree that doesn't seem to increase my employability even an iota.

3) Dutch, started school, learned to read.

4) Skipper learned to talk, sort of. She said her longest sentence ever tonight - "Come help me take out." She learned a bunch of other skills that make her significantly more like a functioning member of society, like laughing at other people's jokes (and saying "FUNnnneee!" to really hammer it home).

5) People I love got married, had babies, moved, lost jobs, got jobs, were happy, were sad...

Oops - we took a break to watch New York New Year. Dutch told her first joke of New York 2011. It was absolutely awful.

6) Dutch's missing tooth finally grew back in, after four long years.

7) Skipper learned to love tofu.

2011 is shaping up to be the year in which we move to a new house, Dutch learns to ride a bike, and Skipper leaves diapers behind (oh, please).

Happy New Year! I hope it's a wonderful year for all of you.

This morning

This morning, Dutch was sitting on the couch reading, and Skipper took another book, sat down in a chair, and started "reading" - she was mumbling and repeating the name of one of the main characters in the terrible fairy books. I was too slow getting out the camera, though, so all you get to see is the aftermath.

Getting this off my chest

I think you (all of you!) know I have strong feelings about cars. Cook and I, over 12 years of cohabitation in cities (and 10 car-free years) and several years of work and education in transportation planning, have come to a shared position of disbelief and horror that we live in a world that is designed around cars. This feeling is always there, but when I stand at a bus stop watching a river of cars whiz by me at high speeds, or walk across an ocean of free parking,* or read yet another article about person killed by a car, it wells up in a bubble of anger. I hate it that cars get so much of our space and time and money. I hate it that they kill so many people, and yet we all just accept the huge risk of injury or death by car as part of everyday life. (While decrying transit and bicycling as dangerous.)

I want cars to be reassigned to a subordinate position as one of many transportation options, and demoted from their current place as the ONLY real transportation option. Think how lovely a world in which cars aren't the center of everything would be. No, really, think about it. It would be quieter, and there would be a lot more open space. People would walk more and bike more and not have to be afraid of being mashed. Stores and offices and whatnot would be located closer together. Car crashes wouldn't kill 35000 people a year* in the United States, and air pollution wouldn't take thousands of lives and billions of dollars. Healthcare costs would be lower. People would be less stressed and have more money.

Here's crankypants Todd Litman on the subject:

I am not suggesting that everybody must give up driving altogether. My research and my personal experience indicate that the best transport system is multi-modal: good walking and cycling conditions; good public transit, carsharing and taxi services; and mixed land use to minimize the distances people must travel to reach common services and activities. This is no more "anti-automobile" than a healthy diet is "anti-food," it lets users choose the best mode for each trip. I do not believe that people should be forced to live in such communities, but housing in such neighborhoods should be available to anybody who wants, including those with low incomes, and people who drive less than average should not be forced to subidize people who drive more than average.

There are two possible responses to the high costs of driving. We can continue to increase road, parking and fuel subsidies in an attempt to keep automobile travel affordable. However, this entails huge costs, is unfair to people who drive less than average, and exacerbates problems such as traffic congestion, accidents and pollution. Alternatively, we can create a more diverse and efficient transport system. This requires shifting some road space to alternative modes and increasing vehicle fees. By reducing the amount that people must drive to satisfy their needs this approach reduces total transport costs, reduces traffic problems, and provides other benefits to users and society.

It would be so great, wouldn't it?

*Parking! Ugh! Don't get me started!

**That's a lot of people, isn't it? Given that we started two wars over far fewer deaths, maybe we should have a War on Cars! I could definitely get behind that.

Phew.

This is not a restful holiday. Not only are we attempting to buy a house, which apparently isn't fun or easy at any time, but is particularly frustrating when key people in the process insist on taking vacation time, but we're trying to get many other elements of our life in order. The grownup kind of things, involving money and planning for the future* and other stuff we've been ignoring for a long time. Today I busted out a book I bought (cheap!) ten years ago - it's subtitled "Personal Finance in Your Twenties and Thirties" and I'm running out of time to use it!

Also, it's raining a lot. I'm home with the girls this week, and we're kind of sick of eachother. I'm too ashamed to tell you how unpleasant I've been with both kids, as I scramble to get house-buying and adulthood-type chores done.However, this has given Dutch an opportunity to do some serious reading. She's picked up a ton of momentum suddenly, and spent this morning stretched out on the couch, devouring several of the terrible Rainbow Magic books. She reads out loud to herself still, and so I've been listening to a steady babble of fairy prattle. In spite of the tedious content, it's really fun to see her just take off into the world of books. ** Cook often marvels (sometimes balefully) at my ability to disappear into a book and totally ignore the world around me, and I hope Dutch has inherited it.

In other news, Skipper is chatting up a storm, and she counts ("Wun, Too, Six!"), expresses opinions ("Not LIKE el-vay-tah"), and joins in elaborate pretend games ("Over river. Dark pond!") orchestrated by her sister.

That's about it. We're busy. Should we buy a tankless water heater?

*Crap. That reminds me, we still have no will.

**I also suddenly realized that I need to start stashing my trashy books out of her reach, in order to avoid embarrassing conversations. It's bad enough that I've occasionally found her poring over the trashy covers of my bodice-rippers, trying to figure out what, exactly, this guy is doing to that lady. (Not that I can tell. I don't know who makes those covers, but in general their anatomical accuracy is seriously questionable.)

Merry Christmas!

Dutch's favorite present at the moment: long flannel nightgown with lace trim*

Skipper's favorite present at the moment: box of marbles**

We found out today that the seller of our house-to-be is absolutely not going to make half the repairs we suggested. So if you're looking around for a late holiday gift for us, please make it a quick course in chimney repair and roofing

.

*Because it looks like something Laura Ingalls would wear, of course.

**Merry Christmas, downstairs neighbors!

I don't know why this is so %&^(#$ complicated.

Buying a house is HARD. As with many things I have to do in my life, I'm completely boggled that so many other people do it all the time. Shouldn't this process be easier and more straightforward? Why is it so hard? Am I especially stupid and incompetent? DO I really want to know? How does one remove 30-year-old contact paper from shelves, anyway? Oh, you know, it just occurred to me that it's probably not contact paper. Is it wallpaper? How does one remove 30-year-old wallpaper? See what I'm saying? And how am I supposed to choose home insurance?

Maybe I just need more sleep.

Skipper bit one of her classmates today. Also, we just heard her pipe up from her crib, where she'd been sleeping for an hour, to say loudly "UTTER BUTTER!" (That's peanut butter to you.)

That's the news.

All I want for Christmas is a high walk score.

People who live in more walkable neighborhoods are happier! And their houses are more valuable.

What Christmas is all about.

Paper snowflakes.

And finding out your house-to-be has an abandoned oil tank buried under the driveway and a sewer line that's approximately six flushes from complete failure.

The paper snowflakes, though, are lovely. And our new movie of the sewer pipe is kind of terrific, too!

Boys

The babysitter who picks up Dutch and some other kids after school several days a week reported to me the other day that Dutch had been trying to kiss one of her playmates, Ernie. She said she hadn't known what she should do, so she just distracted the kids with another game. I asked Dutch about it later, and Dutch told me she had NOT been trying to kiss him, she had been "pretending to bite his nose off." This did not really clarify the situation for me, but whatever. Ernie hit her with a stick later on in the afternoon, so apparently there's a balance of power.

Dutch told me recently that she thought she might marry Mark, this kid in her class. I asked her why* and she said, "Well, we're almost always on the same team," which I think, all things considered, is a pretty damn good reason to want to marry somebody. And Mark, apparently, told his mom that Dutch was the only girl in his class like the character Hermione, in the Harry Potter books, which his mom indicated was high praise indeed.

Today I went by the school to drop off Dutch's lunch. I put it in the cafeteria and went to the classroom to put a scarf in her backpack, too (we left in a big hurry this morning), and when I returned to the cafeteria to say hi to Dutch, I found her class sitting in two groups, separated by a wide expanse of empty table. Dutch was sitting next to Mark, in the group made up of about eight boys, Dutch, and one other girl. As far as I can glean from her reports about school, she's been playing more and more with the boys. It reminds me of when she started daycare at age 2.5, and ended up playing in the rock pit with the boys all the time.

Anyway. Boys. Life. Growing up. I don't know what it all means.

*I KNOW why - he's a bright, sweet kid who's also goofy, energetic, silly and funny in a non-threatening, not-out-of-control way. I would have wanted to marry him when I was six, too.

Chippy's Revenge

Dutch and Skipper have been playing a game pretty often on these rainy days in which they make a corner of the living room into a restaurant. Dutch is an orphan girl who lives in and runs the restaurant with her pet chipmunk, Chippy (Skipper), and they wait patiently for customers when they're not repairing broken toys in their attic workshop or pretending to sleep. They both seem to have a great time, at least for a little while, and sometimes it goes on for a good half hour before deteriorating (though the deterioration usually happens very quickly, and often ends in violence before Cook or I can be bothered to intervene - Skipper's new favorite tactic is to seize Dutch's cheeks and squeeze really hard with her tiny talons*).

So if you're hungry for fake food cooked by a chipmunk in a garret, stop by!

*I kind of admire this, I have to say. As an older sister who tormented my little brother to violence many times, I am very sympathetic to Dutch's feelings, but because I know how she feels, I know exactly how pleased she is when she provokes Skipper into misbehaving (preferably with witnesses!), and I have to respect Skipper for standing up for herself the only way she really knows how.

Dancing alone on a pedestal

Pretending to be adults

We are buying a House. This is how it happened.

Tuesday: The House came on the market.

Wednesday: I went to another (foreclosed, forlorn) house with a contractor and our realtor to see what kind of money we'd have to sink into the house if we bought it. After that review, the realtor and I went over and met Cook to see The House. That night, we asked the realtor to put together a report.*

Thursday: The realtor sent us a report on the The House, recommending an offer amount, and we scheduled a meeting with her at the house the next day to walk through The House and put together an offer.

Friday: When we arrived at The House, the realtor told us that another offer had just been submitted. We walked through it briefly (and ascertained that the basement was dry, in the middle of a week of heavy rains) and sat down to write an offer. I spent the rest of the day scrambling to get officially pre-approved, and the realtor called us that evening to let us know that the offer had been accepted. Cook and I felt sort of like we did when we found out I was pregnant (both times) - happy and terrified and pretty much oh-shit-what-have-we-done!?

Weekend: Cook and I both feel like we should be acting more like adults, like we're responsible enough to own The House, and we approached this in different ways, appropriate to our personalities. I took ten minutes to sew new buttons on a pyjama shirt, a task I've been meaning to do for a year and a half or so, and Cook took several hours and cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. We took turns researching the various things we'd like to do once we live in The House. Cook wants to disconnect the downspouts and to break up the driveway, tear down the shed and use the space for gardening, so he looked up code requirements. I want a dishwasher, so I looked up dishwashers. We did paperwork and tinkered with a money spreadsheet, and realized that we really won't have money left over to do any of the things we want to do, at least for some time.** We put down our earnest money.

Next Week: I don't know. There'll be some inspections, and more expenses, and more paperwork and stuff. Holy shit, we're buying a house!

* Throughout the house-hunting process, people keep saying "Oh, you'll know it's the house for you when you see it!" which I think is kind of bullshit. It's certainly not true for us. We can't afford "the house for us." But we have a list of what we want in a house, and this house meets all the required items and lots of the bonus criteria. So... we're buying it!

**We can, however, afford to install a retractable clothesline, something Cook has wanted for his whole adult life. Our dreams are coming true!

SADD

It's been raining a LOT here, steadily and heavily, which is unusual for Portland. (Usually it's just grey and rains frequently but gently). It's supposed to keep raining for the whole week. This morning, Skipper was playing in the corner of the living room, by the windows, and we heard her saying "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" and when Cook finally said "What?" she said "Sun! SUN!!"

Sure enough, the sun had come out for a minute, an event that's apparently dazzling for a Portland-raised toddler.

Not Like Doctor

I took Dutch to her well-child check-up today. Skipper was extremely displeased to hear we were going to the doctor again - she said "No. Not like doctor! Skipper! Not like doctor!" - but when I managed to get the message across that she would not be the one under assault, she said "Skipper. Not like doctor. Dutch. Her turn." and she said it over and over and over again, I think just to get the confirmation she needed. During the appointment, she cowered in my lap, and if I let my arms relax too far away from her body, she said frantically "Hug! HUG!! MAMA HUG!!!!!"

Dutch is 49 inches tall and 55 pounds heavy. That would be, in case you're wondering, the 96th percentile for height and 89th percentile for weight.* She's also extravagantly healthy, and is done with vaccinations for two more years, so she was very happy when we left.

*Or, in lay-person's terms, Absolutely Gigantic.

So which of you are running for president in 2012?

I'm too depressed about the tax cut extension to write anything.

Hacking

Skipper really likes to play with the computer. She has a gift for pushing just the right keys to screw things up.

Also, she says everything belongs to her. I let her and Dutch play in the toy aisle of the grocery store recently, and when it was time to go, she put everything back but refused to give up a little nerf football. She clutched it to her chest and said "Skipper. Take. Me. Take."

And it's ALWAYS her turn. "My. TURN!!!!"

Dear Diary

This morning Dutch hid under the table and wrote the following note:

"I am angry because I have a mean sister rat now. This is wat she dold she bit my tan."

Translation: I am angry because I have a mean sister right now. This is what she did. She bit my tongue.*

*No, I don't know how, exactly, one of my children came to bite my other child's tongue. It clearly wasn't a serious injury, though, so I don't really care.