Illustrated

I don't know why we have a bicycle hat for Skipper, but we do.

Dutch has mastered the art of shoe-tying. She's been bragging about it all day.

This is what Dutch's shoes look like in action:

updates

1) We have a new rug. It's quite large. I had a heck of a time schlepping it home from Ikea* on public transit with both girls in tow. (This after both girls threw HUMONGOUS tantrums at the store, leaving me standing there staring at them in one of those is-this-seriously-my-life?-SERIOUSLY? moments with which parenthood frequently gifts me.) We haven't seen our neighbors yet, but if they complain again about the noise, I will present them with the bill for the rugs and the rug pad (which was much more expensive, actually).

2) I'm on the hunt for a flower girl dress. It's taking over my life. Where does one find simple, pretty, machine-washable, good-for-more-than-one-wearing, non-polyester, solid-colored dresses for tall 5-year-olds these days, anyway? That's why I'm up this late, actually.

3) Still no job.

4) Today (while hunting for flower girl dresses) I bought these for Dutch. She's been yearning for them for half a year, and she loves them very, very, very, very much. Now she has to learn (quickly) to tie her own shoes, since they actually have laces. I am also waiting for the school to ban these things, because holy cow are they distracting. (If you aren't familiar with this particular fashion hurricane that has mowed down the nation's 5-7-year-old girls, just close your eyes and imagine a disco in the form of an ugly shoe, and that's pretty close. ) If you happen to remember that I used to swear up and down that no child of mine would EVER wear flashing shoes, because the batteries have MERCURY in them and who the hell would ever buy their kids something so stupid anyway, I would be grateful if you would be nice about it.**

I'm going to bed. Let me know if you have any leads on a pretty frock. It has to look good with gaudy sneakers.

*Where else are you going to find an enormous all-cotton rug with no latex backing for $40? Underpaid labor and environmental depredation sure saved us a lot of money.

**The list of things I said I'd never do that I have subsequently done is very, very long.

I love this so strangely much.

Needed: lots of cheap rugs

Our downstairs neighbors complained to us today. We have a second-floor apartment, hardwood floors, two kids, and young, unemployed child-free downstairs neighbors who like to sleep in. It's a recipe for disaster.

I'm entirely sympathetic to their unhappiness. Years of living on both the first and second floors of older apartment buildings have taught me that even normal, shoe-less, calm, adult-style walking around can sound like insane clog-dancing from below in apartments with hardwood floors. Even the cats who lived upstairs from us in one apartment sounded like a team of sumo wrestlers running relay races in the middle of the night. Toddler-style pounding around at 5AM is totally crappy. Because of this, we are constantly working on both kids to not run, not stomp, not bang on the floor, not drop stuff, not yell, etc. I feel like I'm saying "shh" about half the time I open my mouth. The Radio Flyer cannot be deployed until after 10 AM. Nobody wears shoes in the apartment. Clearly, it's not enough.

Cook and I are both the sort of people who absolutely loathe confrontation and criticism in any form,* and being informed (fairly nicely) that we are a problem makes us feel really sick and terrible. Some part of me feels sort of annoyed - we really are making a fairly significant and continual effort to avoid noise-torture of our neighbors, and there's only so much we can do. Part of me admits that if I were young and childless and being woken up at 5 AM by the upstairs kids, I would be pretty bummed. I would not complain, though - I think even Young and Childless Me knew that there's a limit to how much quiet can be required of kids, and of course she hated confrontation, too.

Anyway, we'll get some more rugs and stuff, but I am worried that we have a bigger problem. Maybe Young, Childless, Unemployed, Sleeping-In Neighbors don't have experience with hardwood floors, or maybe they don't have experience with kids, but I suspect that they don't realize the limits of what we can do without cutting off Skipper's feet.

*Just like Dutch...

Today

Starting

Today as I was walking home from the bus stop, I felt happy. I was walking down a quiet residential street, and the sun was shining and the light had that golden clear slanty fall look to it, and it was pleasantly warm but the air felt fresh and alive. I had gotten a lot done at work, and I was looking forward to ordering pizza from our kind-of-awesome local pizza cart.* I was planning to make these for dessert. It was a lovely moment. I'm feeling so relieved now that Cook has heroically pinned down a Real Job, and it makes me much more open to moments of ordinary happiness.

Then everything unfolded as planned, and the evening continued to be delightful. Dutch is taking swim lessons 6:30 to 7 every night, and staggers in the door chlorine-y and exhausted, and it's kind of adorable.

*They give DISCOUNTS to people who don't drive to the cart. Tell me that's not awesome.Yeah, I didn't think you could.

Everything is fluxy.

Lots of things have happened this month. We moved. We bought a bed. I discovered a new favorite Wilson.* Skipper finally started regularly calling me "mama" and also started regularly waking up at 4:45 AM. I almost got a job. Cook DID get a job. A REAL JOB! Okay, it's only for two years, it's not terribly well-paid, and it's not exactly... well... interesting. But we don't care. (I especially don't care. I have happily consigned Cook to two years of deep tedium without a single pang of sympathy.) We will have HEALTH INSURANCE! Real, honest-to-goodness health insurance, the kind that actually pays for stuff! DENTAL insurance!!!!!

In the next three weeks, Skipper will start at a new daycare. (I'm feeling queasy about this. She hates change, our girl.) Dutch will start kindergarten.* I will start working more hours. We're on the move.


* I know. I KNOW. I can't explain it. I've always wanted to own a copy of Shanghai Noon.

*We, along with all the other families, have to supply classroom supplies such as paints and 24 glue sticks, for the whole class to use, because they have no money for supplies. Also, they're cutting all the language classes. The letter from the principal brags, however, that this year they have a FULL-TIME PE teacher! Yay! But... what the hell is a "PeeChee" folder, and why does Dutch need one?

The tools in the shed may be blunter than we thought..

I was sitting at the computer earlier today, vaguely aware of Skipper rattling around the living room behind me. My special, always-alert (but not TOO alert) Parenting level of consciousness had the impression that she was entertaining herself in some not-too-dangerous way, and did not need immediate attention. Suddenly, she slammed fairly hard into the back of my chair, and I heard her thump to the floor behind me. I turned around to find her sitting down, apparently confused, possibly stunned, but not crying, with a pair of Dutch's shorts pulled snugly over her head. I leaned over and pulled the shorts up so I could see her face (and the big red mark on her forehead where she had hit the chair). She looked up at me with an expression of indignation, pulled the shorts back down over her face, got up, and started trundling away blindly. I grabbed her before she could slam into the doorframe, and tried again to pull off the shorts. She pulled them back down. I confiscated them. Dutch reported helpfully that Skipper had been blundering all over the place in her makeshift blindfold for five minutes before she ran into me.

Breakfast, captured in real time.

Skipper has taken to waking up at 5 AM. Yesterday it was my turn to get up with her. I was so addled from lack of sleep that I decided she was just so adorable, seriously addressing her breakfast and carefully deploying her spoon (okay, occasionally) and her handled cup, that I had to film her. Here, for your viewing enjoyment,* are about 15 minutes of breakfast.

*When you start watching, you may think "oh, that's kind of cute. I look forward to the part that's interesting!" And then you'll realize that there is no part like that. It's just Skipper eating her breakfast. It's okay not to watch.

Radio Flyer

They lived on the edge of town...

Dutch asked me to film her rendition of the story of the shoemaker and the elves. She is apparently seeking internet fame and fortune - she loves the idea that strangers can watch her on film. This is not creepy to her, I guess.