Last camping trip of 2016!

The girls and I ditched Cook and went on a car-camping trip. I learned some stuff: 

1) Driving still sucks.

2)  Camping is more fun when ALL your meals are prepared over the fire (preferably with no dishwashing necessary).

3) Audiobooks are awesome - preventive of carsickness in the car, promoting of peace at the campsite when the kids are bickering.

4) S'mores don't have to involve a graham cracker. In fact, it's best if they don't. (I made this when the kids were listening to audiobooks and I was left to my own devices. I didn't bring any books, and had to entertain myself with marshmallows.)

5) Sand castles can be made even when it's 60 and rainy.

6) A lot of the interactions between Skipper and Duchess play out sort of like this:

Skipper attempts to persuade Duchess to play with her. Duchess is adolescently skeptical but is eventually persuaded to participate.

It was damp, sandy, and cold. We inhaled a lot of woodsmoke and ate a lot of sand. We and all our stuff came home wet and filthy. We missed Cook. I read something recently about the effect of curated vacation photos on social media - how we are all at least a little jealous of each other's perfect vacations and feel bad about how ours seem to have a lot more whining, frustrations and missteps than other people's. Don't be jealous of mine - it was far from perfect. There was a lot of yelling and tantruming and whining and selfishness and general jerky behavior, and the weather was also quite poorly behaved. But we had such a good time that it was even worth the driving, and that's saying a lot.

The things you can control.

Skipper continues to refuse to wear anything but a very small roster of clothing items. Every night and every morning we have been having the same insane discussion* with her, and Cook and I are both extremely over it. Yesterday I took everything out of her dresser and closet that she hasn't worn in the last month (she has a ton of clothes handed down from the twin Blond girls), stuffed it all in a large duffle, and put it in the basement. Her wardrobe is now composed of the following clothes that she will consistently or occasionally wear: four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, one pair of pants, seven pairs of days-of-the-week socks, three pairs of underpants, one hooded sweatshirt, two raincoats, one pair of sneakers, one pair of too-small crocs, one pair of rainboots she will wear only if the alternative is getting her sneakers muddy, two hankies, three kung fu uniforms, a leotard for gymnastics, and a swimsuit for swim lessons. Period.

While this is plenty of clothing for most purposes, it is problematic because a) it is difficult to launder her clothes quickly enough, given our schedules and lack of a dryer,** b) several of these most-loved clothing items are getting very ratty, having experienced several owners and now getting worn and washed at least twice a week, and c) the wardrobe is really not warm enough for the kind of weather we're getting into. Also d) it's a little embarrassing to send your kid to school every day wearing the same clothes, especially when they're ratty.***

I ran into an acquaintance recently, and in the course of our conversation I discovered that her kid has very similar issues, that also seem to be a blend of control and sensory issues. (Her kid also has very conflicting reasons for disliking different pieces of clothing, and abruptly decides she doesn't like a piece of clothing she has loved for months.)  It was a relief to hear that, but also alarming, as her kid is nine and has been like this for years, which suggests that this is not necessarily a short-term problem, as I had been hoping.

I can't figure out how to solve this. My acquaintance has her kid wear clothes she dislikes in the evening for an hour at a time, so she can get used to them without having to wear them all day, and we may try something like that. It isn't very helpful to take Skipper shopping, as she has no interest in it, and doesn't want to try anything on, but it's also very risky buying her anything without her trying it on, because odds are extremely high that she will dislike it. It also pisses me off to have to buy her anything at all, given that she has an enormous collection of clothing already.

Anyway. Presumably the situation will improve. I expect.


*"I don't have anything to wear! Waaaaahhhh!" 
"You have a dresser stuffed with nice clothes," 
"NO I DON'T!!!! WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

** Skipper has several times gone to the basement to dress herself in half-dry clothes off the line. Sending your kid to school in DAMP ratty clothes that she's already worn to school twice that week provides bonus mortification. Also, clothes hung to dry in our basement this fall smell slightly unpleasant in a dank way, which suggests that we need a better dehumidifier and makes us all smell like maybe our family lives clandestinely in an elderly person's unfinished basement, which further increases my anxiety about what Skipper's teachers think of us.

***I must acknowledge here that I also very much prefer to wear baggy, comfortable, ratty clothes, and I also have a uniform that I wear when I have a choice - it is notably comprised of two hooded sweatshirts, one ratty cotton cardigan, one pair of jeans, and my four favorite t-shirts. The main difference between my choice wardrobe and Skipper's is that there are fewer pictures of animals in mine. However, unlike Skipper, I am willing to wear other things when I must.

My new occupation

No, I haven't gotten a job. Well, not one that pays. I have decided to hire myself as an unpaid housekeeper/childcare provider for the spring and summer, in the hopes that if I reject the job-hunting process, I won't feel so eroded by its ongoing rejection of me. I will start looking for jobs again in the fall,* but in the meantime, I'm going to do THIS job right.

I am assisted in this quest by technology, which I'm using to keep me on track while also deploying microrewards, because I don't do stuff unless there's a reward involved, even if it's vanishingly small. For example, today I have used a music app to play me motivational songs, a to-do list app to check off numerous small tasks as I plow through them, a workout app that generates random workouts, and a podcast app that allows me to learn all sorts of interesting things.  I find that, for me,** checking things off lists is a sufficient microreward to keep me going. Brains are weird.

I started things off by downloading a free trial of a housekeeping to-do list app. This taught me what sorts of housekeeping tasks I'm supposed to be doing, and when, and then when the trial expired I just added a bunch of those things to my regular to-do list app. I've been an adult for over 25 years, and I have never before done these tasks on a regular basis, if at all. In the new housekeeping paradigm, I do things on a schedule. I clean the kitchen sink every other day*** even if it doesn't look dirty. In the old housekeeping paradigm, I would clean things when I noticed they were looking/feeling grungy.**** I truly don't think there's anything wrong with that approach, and if I ever get another job or even an interesting hobby, I expect I'll shift to a hybrid of the new and old approaches. But right now, I find that housekeeping chores are working well - they keep me busy,***** make me feel productive, keep me from sitting at the computer melting my brain all day, and I get to reap the rewards of having a (relatively) clean house. That's all good.

On the other hand, the childcare provision part of my job hasn't yet seen any improvements. I haven't found an app that will make me more patient, more generous, and less profane in my parenting. Recently, I shooed the girls outside on a hectic morning to wait for me while I put on my shoes and locked the door so we could go drop Duchess off at school. When I came out, I had the privilege of hearing Skipper say "Jesus CHRIST, Duchess! What the HELL are you doing?!"

Coming up: updates on Skipper, who is four entire years old, as of this morning.


*Of course, if a great job comes up, I'm going to apply for it, housekeeping be damned.
** For NOW
*** One of my small rebellions from the tyrannical housekeeping app, which wanted me to clean the kitchen sink every day. Seriously, what are people DOING with their kitchen sink that they need to wash it that often? (Pro tip: Do not poop in your kitchen sink.) Has nobody heard about the dangers of excessive hygiene? Also, the housekeeping app wanted me to read the bible every day.
**** Unfortunately, my threshold for discomfort with grunge is much higher than Cook's. The poor man. 
***** Because they take freaking forever. Presumably real housekeeping folks use more toxic chemicals and are better at it, because if I did everything I'm supposed to, I would be working from dawn till dusk, and I'm really just not willing to do that. 

I want you all to know that the leafy pile behind sleeping Skipper is the yard waste compost.

New skills

 Our end-of-summer vacation trip was delightful. The highlight of the trip was a 2-night camp-out at a mountain lake in Central Oregon. It was beautiful, and of course I took no photos of the scenery. What I do have is photos of the chilly morning.

And of the canoeing and kayaking. We got to our campsite by water, which was exciting. The next day, we all did some boating. Duchess and Cook both tried out the single-seater whitewater canoe (Duchess had her teacher on-board), and Cook took Skipper for a ride in the kayak.

I really didn't take anywhere near as many photos as this outing deserved. The lake was beautiful, the weather was perfect, the novelty of boating and camping was terrific fun, the food was delicious, our hosts were wonderful, and it was just an all-around rip-roaring success. Skipper was impressively resilient about all the challenges and transitions, and kept repeating jauntily "This is so fun!" until we began to wonder if maybe she had experienced some kind of personality reversal during the drive out. Duchess had a few of what Cook calls "whinesplosions" but also had a fabulous time. The usual camping challenges (cold, dirt, uncomfortable sleeping quarters, lack of a bathroom,  etc.) spiced everything up. The girls both mastered the art of peeing on the ground (without peeing on your pants, your shoes, or the person assisting you), and we learned the hard way that Duchess's sleeping bag isn't really warm enough for camping.* It was perfect.

And now it's time to get back to real life. We have one last relatively unscheduled week before school/preschool starts next week, and we plan to eat a lot of tomatoes and ice cream. Duchess found out that she was assigned the teacher she wanted* but that most of her favorite kids are in the other teacher's class. That's the news!

*Last year she got the teacher she was afraid of, and quickly came around to adoring her.

Transit fatigue?

I ride the bus about three days a week, and mostly on the same route, out to work and back again. I'm on one bus for about 40 minutes, usually, and it runs along a soul-killing major arterial lined with vast parking lots, cash&carry grocery stores, bars, pawnshops, fast food, car repair places, and so on. There's some residential development, all of the cheap, windowless variety that already looks dilapidated even though it's maybe 10 years old. The people who get on and off (darting through traffic trying to catch the bus because the safe pedestrian crossings are few and far between) are poor. I think that I'm usually the richest person on the bus. Some people smell bad. One guy has Tourette's, I'm pretty sure. There are plenty of people who are silent, like me, and some whose conversations are innocuous. However, I hear and see enough that I know a lot more about the general complications of being poor than any boring, law-abiding, over-educated middle-class person like me ought to.

Things I have seen or heard lately on that bus route:
1) A man and a woman, maybe in their 40s or 50s, yelling at a very fat toddler on a leash.
2) A woman saying loudly into her phone "But I want to make it LOOK like a ROBBERY!"
3) A kid, maybe four years old, wearing the blank, impassive stare common to those of who ride transit regularly (the look you never see on kids who get on in the wealthier neighborhoods, kids who think transit is an unusual and exciting way to get to the zoo a few times a year, and who are thrilled to get on the bus), numbly stuffing her face with something out of a bag. I figured it was chips or something, but then I realized it was pre-cut apple slices.
4) An obese man wearing a tight red t-shirt, sleeping, snoring, wearing headphones, and smelling really unwashed.
5) A short and cheerful teenager and a tall bike-commuter guy and I, strangers to each other, gossiping happily about the bus drivers on our regular line. We were all delighted to see that the driver who finally pulled up was the one that Bike Commuter Guy calls "The Rocket."

I started this post yesterday planning to write about how exhausting this transit ride is getting for me. I am a transit believer, but this ride is a heart-breaking, spirit-crushing one that pushes the limits of even my appreciation. But then #5 happened to me this evening, and now I'm back on board. That kid made me laugh so hard. I really hope life doesn't crush her too much.

I had kind of a bummer of a day yesterday. Not awful, or anything. Just kind of a bummer. My voice is still only partly recovered. I found out that my new job, which was supposed to start today, is at best delayed three weeks, at worst cancelled for good (budget cuts). I had to tell the babysitter I just hired that I can't hire her. A coworker told me about some hard, sad  things going on in her life. On my way home on the bus, I started reading a new library book and discovered it was a sad book, and had to put it away, so I was staring out the window when a sort of spray of something sprinkled over me. It turned out to be coffee grounds, sprayed off the used garbage bag a homeless guy behind me was vigorously shaking out.  My first response (after suggesting firmly that he stop doing that RIGHT NOW) was to teeter toward the verge of tears,* but then I thought about the way I was going to tell the story to Dutch when I picked her up, and I realized how ridiculous it was, and my perspective was miraculously restored. (Then I realized the coffee-ground coverage wasn't very extensive, and they at least seemed to be reasonably fresh, and not mixed with anything nastier. And given that I've ridden public transit  at least two times a week for over a decade, I should probably just be grateful that my grossest experience involved only coffee.)

And then after Halloween (which was NOT a bummer in the least, and cheered me up immensely), I downloaded the photos off the camera, including these, which erased the last vestiges of emotional grime from the day.

* Because Oh My GOD! My life is SO HARD! And NOW, COFFEE GROUNDS!!! O the HORROR! I am so SO sad! Why does EVERYTHING bad happen to ME?!

I found the perfect pumpkin...

I took the kids on our traditional annual trip* to The Pumpkin Patch. Skipper hated most of it, and made me carry her most of the time. (She did find a clod of dried mud that she she liked a lot, and she brought it home.) Dutch had a great time. And now we have pumpkins!

*2010,  2009, 2008, 2007

Sticky

We made popsicles yesterday. We're having very summery weather this week, after a week of autumnal weather, and the kids are draining the last drops of summer joy.

At this point, Cook opened the back door and asked me if we should just give sticky Skipper her shower (we do this more or less weekly, because she hates it so much and it's miserable for everybody) instead of wiping her clean. He asked it like this, "Do you think we should go ahead and give her the full monty?" I only knew what he was talking about because he looked so resigned and slightly grim, but Skipper immediately said (suspiciously) "Are you going to give me a shower?" 

And Cook said "Yes," because we try not to lie to the kids too much.

We should probably lie to them more.

Small steps, big checks

Owning a house is expensive and very tiring. But our plumber is really adorable, and Skipper loves him. She tried to hug him (he fended her off, as he was lightly coated in sludge). I think we'll keep him for ALL our plumbing needs!

A really big whine.

I'm pretty sure I'm doing something wrong. I have so much to do, and I do it so incompletely and so poorly that I feel like a fraud as a grown-up. Seriously. I don't even DO that much, and I feel overwhelmed. Here's what I try to do:

1) Raise children without fucking them up too badly.

2) Feed the family reasonably healthily.

3) Maintain the household (and family) in a not-too-filthy state

4) Do an okay job at work.

5) Stay on top of our patched-together childcare system.

6) Not be a jerk.

7) Stay in touch with a few people outside my immediate family.

8) Maintain the house and yard in a not-too-shabby state.

9) Stay at least sort of connected with my husband.

My to-do list has stuff on it like "water plants" and "take shower" and "wash breakfast dishes" and "take out trash" and "decide whether or not to get a seismic retrofit so your house won't fall off the foundation if the Big Earthquake hits while you still own it" and it takes forever just to do that.* Not to mention the looming to-do item of GET A GODDAMNED JOB ALREADY. Plus I'm supposed to be taking care of myself (exercise! meditation! vacations!) and keeping my marriage zesty (dates! romantic notes! lacy underpants!) and building community (book clubs! neighborhood associations! potluck dinners!) and being politically active (letters to senators! protests! volunteering!) and homesteading (sewing! canning! other frugal wholesome arts!) and all kind of other stuff that would make me happier and better and whatever. I go back and forth between thinking many people feel this way, and then noticing that I know many people who get twice as much done as I do. (You KNOW those people. Some of you are those people. How do you do it, anyway? Is there a drug for this?)

So am I wildly incompetent? Is my laziness even more rampant than I thought? Did I miss some big secret about how to do this?** Is anybody else's adulthood as jury-rigged as mine? Or maybe I just spend too much time blogging.***

Anyway, I can live with it. I know that I could make more time by being more efficient and not wasting time on the internet. I just wish there was a little more real down time. Sometimes Dutch complains when I make her do onerous stuff like pick up her dirty clothes and put them in the laundry basket, rather than leave them on the floor. She says "I have to do ALL THE WORK!!!" and I have to take a deep breath so I don't whack her upside the head with her grimy socks.

*Painting one room of our house took us three weeks to complete. (In our defense, Cook is a perfectionist and insisted on multiple coats, and the previous owner was so sloppy about painting that there was quite a bit of remediation to do.)

**I'm looking for a really good tip here, like "Wait, didn't you get the manual?" or "You were supposed to buy a self-cleaning house!" or "Silly, you don't actually have to worry about retirement because civilization's going to collapse and all you'll need is a seismically-retrofitted basement full of food, attack dogs, and guns!"

***Yesterday I was emailing while Skipper wandered around the study, and after a while I looked over and found she'd gone to sleep on the floor, her butt up in the air and all her limbs neatly folded under her. I think having your kid fall asleep on the floor while you waste time on the internet probably qualifies as inattentive parenting.

The Gastroenteritis That WOULD NOT GO AWAY

Skipper started barfing again this morning, almost two weeks after her first barfing episode, and ten days after her last barfing episode. We are not happy campers.

*****Squeamish people, stop reading RIGHT NOW.*****

Skipper hates barfing so much that she tries desperately not to, even up to the point of actually swallowing her vomit. While this generally means less cleanup, and I don't think it's harmful to her, it's completely appalling to witness, and I'd actually prefer the cleanup. I say "It's okay, honey, just let it out," and she screams "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" and her whole body gets stiff with the conflict between the urge to barf and the urge not to barf, and... ew.

Anyway. Cook bought some bleach (something we've never used in this household, preferring to stick with dingy clothing and household cleaning with vinegar), but I feel like a virus that lasts two weeks and causes this much misery probably demands some bigger guns. I don't know what, though. Maybe we should leave the house for a week and have it steam-cleaned.

I'm back.

This week has been hectic. Skipper got a stomach flu and barfed (and had diarrhea) erratically for a few days, and then we went to Disneyland. (Cook stayed here so he could work!) We spent two days there with another family, and then we went to my dad's house in L.A. to spend a day and a half there.

So, Disneyland. Disneyland was fun. People really want to be there, and everybody wants to be happy, and so they kind of just are. My dad also pointed out that he and Dutch have a shared childhood experience now, because he went to Disneyland when HE was a kid, and that's pretty cool. I assume Disneyland's awareness of this is why they keep old rides that now seem really hokey. Anyway, it really is just... fun.

I made a major tactical error, and took the kids on Mr Toad's Wild Ride, practically first thing. Of course, Skipper hated it,* and that was pretty much that for her willingness to even try rides. This is a typical sample of what it was like on rides that she DID go on.

(Also, you may have noticed that at the very end of that clip, Dutch is saying "Mom, I'm scared." and I'm ignoring her because I'm trying to make Skipper stop wailing.) I don't really have much in the way of decent movies because of this problem. And I didn't bring the camera because I was trying to pack light. So you'll just have to imagine the experience - mostly Dutch being blissful, and Skipper being confused,** sometimes pissed off, and occasionally completely terrified.

This is the only thing at Disneyland that Skipper really liked. (Note that Dutch was very bored by it.)

Anyway, it went well. Dutch had a wonderful time, I had a pretty good time, and Skipper was confused. Then we went to my dad's house. And then Dutch started throwing up. And she didn't stop. She threw up FIFTEEN times in nineteen hours.*** The poor kid. However, she didn't die of dehydration or sheer misery, finally stopped throwing up last night, and rallied enough to get to the beach this morning before our early-afternoon flight. (Skipper, it turns out, hates dry sand but LOVES the waves, and she briefly reversed her position on wanting to go home.)

And now we're home. Dutch was really great most of the time, and complained very little about anything. (She got extensively lectured in advance about how this was a Big Treat, and she'd better not goddamned whine about anything, and also about how I would need her help because Cook wasn't there.) When we first got to California, while I was wrangling Skipper and figuring out how to get from airport to hotel, she fetched all our baggage off the carousel, without being asked, all by herself. She was helpful and not obnoxious nearly the whole time, and I was proud of her. (Yes, I told her so.)

And now we're HOME! We are all very happy to have Cook back, and to be home, and I'm also happy that nobody in the household is barfing.

*I don't know why anybody thinks that a ride that takes place in the dark, with loud noises and flashing lights, is going to be fun for anyone. As soon as it started, I remembered that I had hated that ride as a kid.

** The first night we spent in the hotel, it took forever to get Skipper to sleep. She kept asking questions about where we were, where Daddy was, did we really have to get on a plane to get back home, etc., and finally she said "dere no animals in here?" and I realized that she really needed me to tell her that this was a safe place to sleep, a place where tigers were not going to eat her, where she could relax her vigilance. Vacations are hard when you're two.

*** We are AWESOME house guests. Doesn't this make you want to invite us over?

Skipper update

I took this video this afternoon as Skipper and I prepared to go get Dutch from school.

Skipper is very fierce these days, tempestuous rage and sorrow alternating with giddy glee. She also alternately loathes and adores Dutch... We're almost officially into the terrible twos!

She just started at a "nanny-share" at another family's house, and her first day went astonishingly smoothly, with no crying at all. She and I were able to talk about it in advance, and she handled the change really well, like a rational human being who finds herself with strangers in a strange new place with a bajillion interesting toys and the assurance that her mom will be back to fetch her later.

Also, it seems that cutting back substantially on her dairy consumption is improving her eczema. Huzzah!

All in all, things are going well in Skipper's world. She would probably prefer if she had both parents at hand ALL THE TIME, and if her meddling sister could be banished and beckoned when it was convenient for Skipper, and if we would stop washing her* and trying to feed her green things, that would be nice. But the world is full of thrilling opportunities, and she has all these amazing new skills. Being two, apparently, means to alternately pounce gleefully out into the crazy wide world, and then get overwhelmed by the crazy wide world and retreat back to a safe place.

*We just gave her her first washing in THREE WEEKS. I hang my head in shame. She was pretty icky. It's just so hard to wash a kid who absolutely hates being washed, and who is getting kind of large and strong... so we often have a hard time bringing ourselves to do it. But she's clean now!

Ugh

Yesterday the whole family was totally out of commission, stricken with what we think was food poisoning. Skipper was unaffected, because she doesn't really eat anything, but she's got a bad cold, and was feeling a little under the weather too.* Dutch was a champ; this was her first experience of adult-style illness, in which you barf multiple times and feel bad all day** and she not only made it to the bathroom in time every time, she was cheerful and almost... stoic. This is not an adjective I have EVER used for Dutch before.

Anyway, Cook and I were pretty much either asleep all day - one of us stayed out on the couch to keep a nominal eye on the kids while they played and read. At 5, I gathered my strength and went out with Dutch to walk 250 feet to the convenience store, so I could buy the sick-people-food I'd been wishing for all afternoon. I wore my pyjamas and my glasses (the broken ones, repaired with duct tape), and felt all addled, but when we got home, the whole family sat/lay on the living room floor and ate a delicious dinner of pretzels and ginger ale. We were all asleep for the night by 8 PM. Dutch is back at school today, fully recuperated, but Cook and I are still feeling pretty crappy, though enormously better than yesterday.

Also, the popcorn ceilings are gone! And the abatement workers didn't destroy the plaster ceilings! I was finally able to get over today to see how things are going, and was much relieved.

*This was good, because it meant she better tolerated staying home all day with a bunch of zombies.

** As opposed to the small-child experience of illness, in which you barf once, feel bad for an hour, and then are perfectly fine.

2011

Today is my first day of official stay-at-home parenting. I'm supposed to be working 5-10 hours a week at my job (tapering off over the next month or two, but I have serious doubts about how well that's going to work, after less than one day.

In other respects, though, it's been a successful day. I finished one of the tasks I promised myself I would do to kick off 2011 - went through our files, threw out everything egregiously out-dated or unnecessary, re-organized the system, and filed everything in the to-file folder, including stuff that has been in that file for over a year. Skipper helped me hand-shred old bank statements. (Today, she's also sorted change and swept the floor. Such a helpful child. I'm not sure what she DID with the change or the dust, but she doesn't seem to be choking to death, so whatever.)

Tomorrow, I'm tackling the Random Box of Crap that's been sitting on the desk forever. I think it was once a Box of Stuff I Was Supposed to Do, which is scary. There are probably some important papers in there marinating. Tomorrow I'm also going to the bank to put our important documents into a safe-deposit box, one of the trying-to-be-slightly-more-adult tasks on my to-do list. Apparently, real grown-ups don't keep their important pieces of paper in a plastic bag labeled* "Important" in a file drawer. Who knew?

Dutch is back at school today after a 2-week hiatus. She had mixed feelings this morning, but we got her there without a hitch. Now I just have to remember to pick her up.

We're still in the house-buying process - the closing date has been pushed back, but the seller is making repairs now, and we have bought a washing machine, which means this is official!

*In my defense, it's a plastic bag- waterproof! - labeled carefully with a Sharpie pen - waterproof! See, some precautions were taken...

Maelstroms of Skipper

I just googled "my 18-month-old is horrible"* and got lots of useful hits. You see, my 18-month-old is HORRIBLE. Adorable, but also really, really horrible.

This is a sample of adorable (translations provided):

Me: Skipper, how was your day?

Skipper: Goot. (Good.)

Me: Did you play with your friends?

Skipper: Joppah! Jaypee! Feeese! Sessee! (Gemma! Jamie! Felix! Cecily! Can you believe they were ALL there?!)

Me: What did you do today?

Skipper: Feese. Hat. Bear. (Felix wore a bear hat? Felix got eaten by a bear wearing a hat? Felix pulled a bear out of a hat? Something like that.)

Me: Hm. Did you go to the park?

Skipper: Park! Seeenhg! (We went to the park and I sat in the swing the entire time and insisted on being pushed, because I'm absolutely obsessed with the swing.)

These are other adorable things:

• The hugs
• The blowing of kisses
• The grins.
• The new words.
• The absorbed extended studying of weird things like a box of paper clips.

This is horrible:

• The screaming.
• The whining.
• The incomprehensible demands followed by screaming and whining.
• The insane sibling-rivalry jealousy, with biting.
• The waking up REALLY early and shrieking "Hongee! Poop!"
• The refusal to eat anything that isn't white or brown.
• The rageful loathing of baths.
• The wriggling, screaming, kicking loathing of diaper changes.

The horrible is exacerbated by the poor kid's eczema, which is currently flaring up and driving her nuts. More nuts.

Anyway, it's just normal 18-month-old misery (I hope) and she'll grow out of it, and then I'll miss her chubby little hands and her delighted pleasure in stomping around in rain boots. But at the moment, I'm very, very tired.

*I find it very satisfying to google exact phrases, like "how could anybody possibly vote for John Boehner for a position requiring any sort of competence or ethics?" and sometimes get relevant answers. It's like the world is answering my questions. Or not.

The quarter has reached the point where I've got very little to say and less time to say it in. Also, work= crazy.

However, I have the time to tell you that Dutch is doing paleontology in the playground at daycare (can I say how much I love Dutch's teachers, who have been debating whether they should dig up all the sand in the sandbox and bolt down some big bones at the bottom of it so the earnest diggers can actually find something?), now loves brushing her hair, and has been wandering around singing this:


And Skipper... is a punk. But we love her. Today she ate an entire banana at daycare. Also, she says "hat" ("HA!"), "belly" ("lelLAY!"), "dog ("DOHHH!!"), and "daddy" ("dehYEEE!"). That's the news from here.

Maintenance

So I bet you've been burning to know how our "no 'poo" experiment is going... here's your answer. I'd post photos, but the camera is still broken, so you'll have to take my word on it that after 23 days with no shampoo or conditioner (baking soda and vinegar only), Dutch's hair looks fine, and Cook's hair looks fine (and his scalp is much happier). Dutch's hair, in my opinion, has a richer color now than it did before, and a little more wave, but that's pretty speculative. What I can say for sure is that their hair looks/feels/smells totally normal, not greasy at all, and they never had a greasy stage. We've actually been oiling Skipper's head after baths, because her scalp was so dry, and after an initially greasy period of a few hours (during which we style her hair into an excellent fauxhawk), it looks totally normal (presumably after the oil soaks into her bedding and our shirts and whatnot). I'm still not ready to go for it, but I've been reducing the amount of shampoo I use, and concentrating on really rubbing it on my scalp rather than lathering all the hair, and though my hair doesn't feel "clean"* when I finish the wash in the shower, it feels and looks totally fine afterward.

That's the exciting news. I promise not to write about this again for at least three months.

*You know - squeaky.

hygiene

Skipper got her first bath last night. We've been wiping her down here and there, but we hadn't given her a real bath in all her eleven days of existence. She was filthy. She smelled funky. She had bits of food in her creases (the only problem with carrying a baby everywhere in a wrap).*

We were dreading the bath, and putting it off, because Dutch HATED baths for the first 18 months of her life. She screamed so hard during her first bath that we were afraid she was going to rupture some important blood vessels. While aware that Skipper is an entirely different personality, Cook and I were expecting the worst with the bath. Of course, Skipper handled it like a pro. She fussed** some, and didn't seem happy about the whole thing (but how would we tell, anyway?), but she didn't scream until Cook pulled off the bandaid over her spinal-tap-puncture. (It's been on a week, and showed no sign of ever peeling off on its own.) Then she screamed. We forgave her.

I know I've got to stop comparing my two children, since that's not a good path toward a healthy sibling relationship, but it's hard not to at this point, bcause Dutch represents all we know about babies, so she's necessarily our reference point.Skipper is a lovely baby, but we still know very little about her.

*Today, after eating a hardboiled egg, I found a small yellow thing on Skipper's shirt. I looked at it, decided that it was either egg yolk or a curd from Skipper's latest poop, and THEN I PICKED IT UP AND ATE IT.  Without  thinking twice or even smelling it. I think that's really all you need to know about my current state of sleep deprivation and general disorientation.

** When Dutch was small, I'd hear other parents use the word "fussing" to descibe their baby's response to something, and I would be mystified.  Dutch would cry or scream or not cry. She never fussed. Skipper fusses. Now I know what it means! I love it! It's so mild and manageable!