Screwups with the Nativity Set- Part Deux

I have not been the best Catholic in the last few years.  I pray, but I have not been to church in a long while, mainly because the thought of keeping two kids still and quite for an hour makes me break out in hives.  Still, I try to take those "teachable moments" when I can and explain elements of the faith that a little one can grasp.  Unfortunately, last year my explanation of the Nativity set fell on deaf ears.  I had given birth a little over seven months ago.  I guess the addition of Angela was so fresh in her mind that Alice, then three, was convinced the Holy Family was a representation of our family.  She even connected family member names to the shepherd and the Magi   Poor Uncle Joe and Aunt Louise got the short shrift.  Alice ran out of figurines so they became, collectively, the ass.  Never one to admit defeat, I decided to try again this year.  Alice was a year older and I purchased the Fisher Price Nativity set complete with the inn at Bethlehem, the stable, and the Magi.  There are so many people, habitations and animals that upon seeing it set up John asked if I purchased "the whole town of Bethlehem."

As I unpacked the set and told Alice the story of Christ's birth, I was happy to notice that she seemed to comprehend it better than last year.  I was also happy with the durability of the set which has survived the explorations of her and her sister.  And then yesterday morning any hope I held for Alice's religious education died out.  I found her holding Tinkerbell over the stable so Tinkerbell could sprinkle some pixie dust over it.  Hmmm....frankincense, gold, myrrh and pixie dust...I guess it could work.  Later in the afternoon, I found Woody from Toy Story at the inn of Bethlehem.  Oh well, maybe next year.

Paging Doctor Barile

One of the cool (and terrifying) bits of being a parent is imagining your child as a grown up. For instance, sometimes as I watch Alice construct amazing train track formations, I wonder if the future engineer in her is emerging. Once in Gymboree I witnessed her during bubble popping time take a grid approach to popping the bubbles on the gymnastics mats. It made me think of archeologists searching for artifacts. Unfortunately, my imaginings are not all good. After watching the movie Madagascar Alice enjoyed dancing and singing to the song "Move It". That in itself is not too bad. The fact that she preferred to dance and sing naked caused concern (and cold sweats for me). I could only envision a pole in her future or a role in her generation's version of Jersey Shore.


And, oftentimes, my dreams for Alice's future are interrupted by laughter (usually mine). This hit home during dinner today. While I finished eating, Alice examined the butterfly garden map we received at the Bronx Zoo with a magnifying glass. She was so intent on her study she was actually silent for small periods of time (stunning, I know). While I cleaned up, I thought to myself, "Wow…maybe that trip to the Bronx Zoo might lead to a career in lepidopterology. How cool would that be?" I had just completed this mental self dialogue when I noticed Alice was now on the floor and using the magnifying glass to study the pug's ass. Alice saw me looking at her and said, "Look, Mommy. Big butt (move magnifying glass away from pug's rear). Little butt" (move magnifying glass close to pug's rear). Oh well, maybe a career in proctology is on the horizon.

A New Offering from Your Local Library

Thanks to Dora the Explorer, I am able to accomplish three errands per day before Alice gets antsy. For those of you unfamiliar with the "Dora formula", Dora and her monkey friend Boots must complete a task in each episode. To do so, they consult Map to figure out the best way to get from Point A to Point B. Map always gives Dora and Boots three locations that they must pass through in order to get to their ultimate destination. For some reason, this just clicks for Alice; so, whenever I have to do something with her (and Peanut), we break it down into three steps. Today we had grocery store, hair cut, and library.
                   
It was on the way to the library that Alice provided me with my daily "scratch my head" moment. While I drove, I talked up the fun things that we would do once we got there.


"Alice, we are going to get some new books and new movies. Isn't that…"


"And pickles," Alice interjected.


"Huh?" I asked.


"We are going to get some pickles too," Alice clarified.


I decided to overlook the fact that I have never seen this child eat a pickle in her almost four years on this planet; and, instead, correct her mistaken belief regarding what constitutes proper library materials. Alice would have none of it. She was adamant that one could get pickles from the library. Apparently, she was privy to some new program, which despite loss of funding for libraries in general, was going to be instituted. So let me know what you think of the "Pickles for Patrons" program the next time you check something out.

Oh, #@&$!

I was dreading this day. I knew it was going to happen. Alice dropped the F bomb.


After years of teaching high school, I am extremely conscious about the words that fall from my lips. Let's face it, people would most likely look down upon a teacher (an English teacher no less) who used profanity regularly in class. I often thanked the gods that people are not like cartoons because if my students knew the mental dialogue that ran through my mind 99.9% of the time they would have been shocked. Since, as the proverbial phrase goes, "old habits die hard", I regularly say "shoot" and "fudge" when I want to say something different. Since John mainly works with adults, who don't melt when a profanity slips, he has not had to ever worry about checking his language. And thus we see why I had the following conversation with my daughter:


I am driving home after picking up Alice from preschool. Both kiddies are strapped into their respective car seats and the Cars soundtrack in on the radio. A moronic (writer is being kind here) driver decides to just reverse out of her driveway without actually checking to see if (gasp) cars are driving along the main road. I blare on the horn and slightly swerve the car to avoid getting hit.


Me: Idiot!


Alice: Fuck!


Me: What did you say, Alice?


Alice: Fuck.


Me: Honey, that is a naughty word. We don't use words like that.


Alice: Daddy does.


Me: (internally) Oh, shit.

Never Thought to Put that on My “To Do” List

I hate Blue's Clues, Blue's Room or any derivation of the Blue franchise. Actually, let me clarify this a bit. Hate is a strong word after all. I like the concept behind the show- taking things step by step as a way to introduce the concept of critical thinking/reasoning. Unfortunately, the execution is rather nerve grating. Naturally, Alice enjoys the show tremendously and has days when all she wants to watch is Blue. Those are the days when John comes home and instead of saying, "Hi Honey. How was your day?" I greet him with, "We are having wine with dinner."


I particularly despise the "Old MacDonald" farm episode. Blue and her brother Sprinkles fill in for Old MacDonald on the farm. I am not sure why he leaves in the first place. Perhaps he is off to visit a brothel? Anyhow, Blue and Sprinkles have to take care of the farm and they use a "handy dandy" checklist to help them remember the four things that need to be done. I can't believe that they need a list to remember four things but I digress. The first thing they need to do is collect a dozen eggs. This is when I really appreciate Disney and their care for the motherhood induced ADHD parent. Disney would have a conveyer belt under the chickens catching the eggs. The eggs would come out of the chickens with the same speed as machine gun fire. I swear, with Blue and Sprinkles, it seriously takes over five minutes to count twelve freaking eggs. The next item on the checklist is to milk the cows. The first time this episode was on I was in another room. Panic shot through me as I thought a porn came on. All I kept hearing was the command, "Squeeze, squeeze!" I ran into the room to see Blue and Sprinkles milking imaginary cows. It looked like they were giving imaginary hand jobs. Again, once the task is complete it got checked off the list. This happens two more times, which when you multiply that by the number of times Alice has watched the show, is enough for her to have internalized the concept of a "to do" list and checking off the items that are completed.


It was also enough to provide me with a good laugh yesterday. I was finishing up changing Angela's poopy diaper. Alice came by with a piece of fabric (her list) and a game piece from Don't Break the Ice (her pencil). She asked me what I was doing. "Changing Angela's poopy diaper, honey." Alice gave a big smile and said, "Check" as she made an imaginary check on her pretend list. I looked at her and quizzed, "Angela taking a poop was on your 'to do' list?" Alice nodded and left the room all the while checking off random things.


Well, at least I can now accomplish something from my "to do" list every day. Who knew I could put regularity and laundry on the same list?

Home Sweet Home

I was really dreading this week and not because Alice is home on vacation. I enjoy spending time with her, except when she is recovering from an illness. To say she is not a good patient is a very politically correct way of stating she is a major pain in the rear. For whatever reason, Alice becomes this clingy, whiny adhesive shadow as she transitions from sickness to health. So, you can imagine how I was feeling as I cancelled all our outside activities and prepared to hunker down with a post pneumonia toddler.

I am still shocked that my pith helmet was not needed. Alice has been downright pleasant and fun. The week has generally unfolded with her and Angela playing together in the morning and afternoon with some cartoon or other in the background. Alice has been creating picnics, tea parties, and birthday parties around her sister. Every morning Alice takes a blanket from our pile in the living room and spreads it out on the floor next to her sister. She then proceeds to set up all her plates, cups, and other paraphernalia on top. Angela knocks it all down and smiles a great deal. In many respects, Angela reminds me of my former students who did not speak English. She looks amused and she smiles a great deal; but, you know that in her mind she is wondering, "What the heck is going on?" I like to stay out of the room as they play because I hear the cutest things (especially of late because Alice has taken to supplying her sister's dialogue during their "conversations"). I am still chucking about one of these said "conversations" from two days ago.

A little background- I have been trying to teach Alice that she cannot take a toy from her sister if Angela is actively playing with it. I don't know why Alice always wants that one particular toy, especially when you consider my home is teeming with playthings. I guess the toy someone else is playing with always looks like the most fun toy in the universe at that moment. Anyhow, I was checking email in the kitchen and the latest tea party was unfolding in the dining room nearby. I was listening and half watching them as I replied to the day's communications. Here is the written account of the scene:

Angela is happily playing with a toy as Alice enters stage right. Alice sits down next to her sister and watches what she is doing for a few seconds.

ALICE: Hi Angela. Can I play with that?

ANGELA (dialogue supplied by Alice in a slightly different tone to indicate a different person) Sure Alice. Enjoy.

ALICE: Thank you, Angela.

Alice takes the toy leaving a slightly bemused Angela in her wake until a shadow on the wall distracts her.

By now I had stopped typing and sat there wondering what I should do. Do I reprimand her for taking the toy? In Alice's mind, Angela gave her the toy willingly. It's times like these when I realize how much Alice has grown up. Perhaps that is why she was so good this week. She is growing up (and has Angela as a captive constant playmate). Whatever the reason, I will take it.

Go Away, Germs!

Alice has pneumonia. Thankfully, the two antibiotics that the doctor prescribed are working their magic. She is almost back to her old self. Although Alice has not reached her "hurricane" status yet, she is definitely a "tropical depression". While I generally long for peace and quiet several times a day, I have to admit I am happy to have the crashing, yelling, laughing and general chaos back. It is funny how unnatural silence is these days.

The dissipation of the hurricane started a week ago on Tuesday. Alice came down with a fever. Because she also had a persistent cough for the last few weeks, I figured it was high time for us to check in with the doctor. Alice was diagnosed with a sinus infection and bronchitis. The doctor prescribed antibiotics, and I left the office with a sense of ease. What she had could be named, and more importantly, I had something to give to her for her illness. I hate the viral stuff. No drugs speed up the healing process.

And then nighttime came.

I don't care how many children someone has or how great a parent they are. Nothing makes a mom/dad feel more like a bumbling and helpless idiot than those nighttime cries. Alice crawled into the king sized bed with John and me. The heat that rolled off her body was staggering. The thermometer read 103.7 degrees. At this point, I learned something new about my daughter. She hallucinates when her fever reaches this level. It was so freaky seeing her sitting up between John and me in bed with her eyes open and "awake" but lost in a world of her own, reliving incidents that happened at her preschool. It killed me that there was nothing I could do to calm her except wait for the Motrin to take effect and wrap my arms around her.

The rest of the week was a constant cycle of fever spikes and waning energy. The pug must have even realized how sick Alice was. She allowed Alice to use her as a pillow without any type of protest. By Friday, all Alice wanted to do was curl up in fetal position on the floor. I brought her back to the doctor, and after a strep test and white blood cell count, pneumonia was diagnosed. The second drug prescribed was a godsend. The night of Alice's first dose she had no fever spikes and she slept through the night in her own bed. The recovery had begun.

Just yesterday Alice resumed her nudist lifestyle. When I saw the pile of clothing in the living room, I realized something new about my daughter. One can determine Alice's energy level and health based on the state of her dress (or undress as the case may be). Never was I so happy to see a flash of naked butt streaking through my kitchen. Still, I hope she outgrows this as she ages.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Here is the copy of our annual Christmas letter along with the pictures that were on the card. For those of you who already received it sorry for the repeat.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!

I nearly had a heart attack a few weeks ago when I flipped the calendar to the December page. All the things that needed to be done before Christmas popped into my head simultaneously; hence, the near heart attack. Since Angela's birth, time has become this hazy period in between feedings and sleep. I shook myself out of my fog and logged onto Snapfish's website. If nothing else, I could get our annual Christmas card designed quickly.

The top left picture was taken during our first apple picking excursion at Masker Orchards. As you can tell from the background, it was the perfect day to pick apples or as John would phrase it "pay to be migrant workers." Alice had a ball and really got into the whole picking experience. At least now I can rest easily, knowing that if college does not work out, she has skill as an itinerant worker. I also learned that I can use 40 lbs of apples in only two weeks. Yes, Martha Stewart has nothing on me. For a while, however, I felt like I was living in that movie scene from Forrest Gump when he was in the army and his buddy listed the many uses for shrimp. Substitute apples and you had my life for those two weeks: apple butter, apple pancakes, apple sauce, apples covered in chocolate. Okay, I didn't try that last one but maybe next year. After all, everything is better with chocolate.

The next photo is of Angela on the day she was born. She decided to surprise the heck out of us and exit a month early. I don't think I will ever forget the start to that morning. I was trying to haul my pregnant body out of bed for yet another trip to the bathroom when my water broke. Nothing like starting your day with the feeling that a water balloon just exploded (and kept exploding) in between your legs. Since Angela was breech, I needed to have a c-section. Poor John got yet another anatomy lesson he could have happily done without, but, at least he can say he experienced firsthand all the ways that a child can exit a woman. Despite being early, Angela weighed 6 lbs 6 oz. and was 19 inches long. Alice has taken on the role of "big sister" exceptionally well. I hope they always get on the way they currently do.

At the bottom left is a picture of Alice at a pancake house during our vacation to Lake George. I just love her smile in this picture. Alice is now 3 years old and a hoot. She daily provides me with excellent fodder for my blog, especially now that her language and imagination have taken off. Just yesterday while we were making sugar cookies, Alice treated the balls of dough like little people. They took a swim in the green and red sugar sea and then proceeded to have all kinds of adventures on the cookie sheet. I felt a bit guilty about putting the tray in the oven but thankfully, she was not traumatized.

Finally, we have a picture of Angela with her bud Puggie. Angela just loves the dog to pieces. Whenever she hears the dog's nails clicking on the tile floor, she perks up and starts looking for her. The smile that erupts when she finally sees Puggie is just a wonderful expression of pure joy. The dog likewise loves having another little one around and has adapted very well to being knocked a little lower in the pecking order. She seizes every opportunity to be near Angela and kiss her. Personally, I think she is trying to curry favor for when Angela transitions to finger foods. Alice has become miserly with the handouts and her diet is much more Spartan than it has been in the last two years. Consequently, I now have a dog three pounds thinner who eats lint off the floor in the hope it is food.

While I am pleased with how the card looks, I realize that it does not really tell the tale of our family. To really highlight the events of this year pictorially I would need a few more photos. There would be a picture of me with the carpet steamer juxtaposed with Alice on the potty. Thankfully everything has clicked, but the journey was not easy. You can lead a toddler to the potty but you can't make them go, especially if the toddler in question is a strong willed sort like Alice. Using great judgment on my part, I concentrated on potty training post pregnancy. It enabled me to enjoy some wine with my whines about the process. The card would also need a picture of me sitting down and breastfeeding Angela. Next to me would be Alice who would be breastfeeding her stuffed Cat in the Hat doll. Alice is a great big sister and helper. More than once she would lift her shirt and offer to feed Angela. Given Angela's undiscerning love for all things nipple, she probably would have latched on. Unfortunately, John quickly saw through my ploys of trying to get him to hold Angela without his shirt on. He feared I would not explain how to pop her off. I tried to convince him that I totally would show him (eventually), but alas my plan was foiled. Our card would need a shot with John and Alice playing with Play-Doh. Who knew that my CPA husband was the Michelangelo of Play-Doh? He has made armies of characters and done much surgery on them after Godzilla Alice left her path of destruction in her wake. The card would also need a picture of Alice in front of her school building. Alice loves preschool, but the beginning was a little rocky. Apparently, she did not like being reprimanded for something on the first day and popped the director in the nose. Thankfully, despite this rocky start, Alice settled in and loves it (and the director). The card would also need a picture of Alice naked. Our resident nudist peels off her clothes the second she gets home. One day John came home from work and asked her, "Alice, why are you naked?" Alice happily told him, "Because I took my clothes off." This brings me to the next requirement for a Christmas card that would really depict my family-- a soundtrack with no pauses for silence coupled with a laugh track.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and start of a new year. If you would like to keep posted on the craziness of our family life or if you need a dose of birth control feel free to read my blog. You can access it as http://www.twohumansandapug.blogspot.com/

Uh Oh, I Ran Out of Curry Powder...

I love how Alice is such an adventurous eater. Whereas many of my friends bemoan their children's steady diet of chicken fingers, hot dogs, and buttered noodles, I don't have that issue. Alice eats according to the mantra "the spicier, the better". When we order Chinese, Alice winds up eating more spicy pork than John. She enjoys her fajitas with habereno sauce. She devours her daddy's steak pizzaole. However, if I had to pick her favorite cuisine, I would have to say it is Indian food. This love actually began in utero.


Most people laugh and look at me with expressions of disbelief when I say that, but it is true. Chicken curry was my primary food craving when I was pregnant with Alice. Yes, like most pregnant women, I loved ice cream, but for some inexplicable reason chicken curry was like a drug for me. The sauce and spices caressed my taste buds and created feelings of euphoria within my swollen body. When you feel as big as an overheated, beached whale (the joys of being pregnant in August) any feeling of euphoria is pretty scarce. Needless to say, because everything felt better after a serving of curry, the waiters at our favorite local place became like family and tracked my pregnancy with the same interest as my real family.

Not long after Alice was born, we went back for some curry, and despite being postpartum, it still tasted wonderful. It was after digestion that things got a little weird. When I went to nurse Alice after dinner, she attacked me. I was used to enthusiastic nursing but what ensued was particularly intense. I still don't think that my nipples have forgiven me. I remembered thinking, "Wow...did I not feed her enough today?" I chalked it up to a fluke but when it kept happening whenever I ate Indian food I realized how my pregnancy craving manifested itself.

As Alice aged, her love of Indian food evolved. Not long after the typical foray into solid foods (rice cereal, strained fruits and veggies and the ubiquitous Cheerios), I decided I would never deny Alice a food that she expressed interest in. If I felt it could be easily chewed or gummed, I gave her a sample. This horrified my mother to no end. She was convinced I would give the child a stomach ulcer or something to that effect. My argument that children who live in (fill in the blank) country most likely eat this among their first foods and live to tell the tale did not sit well with her.

Which leads me to one of my favorite Alice memories of her sitting in her booster seat at our Indian place. I remember her looking at our meal from her vantage point and smacking her lips, so I decided to give her a sample. I placed some basmati rice and cut up chicken curry on her tray. Her eyes lit up when she tried it. Whenever her tray became empty, she would make little noises to get my attention. She even added kicking legs to make sure I noticed her empty tray predicament. The wait staff watched in awe as little Alice devoured the rice and little pieces of chicken drenched in curry sauce. When they brought us our check, they presented Alice with a shot glass of mango lassi. They were curious to see what would happen. The consistency was a little thick so I fed it to her with a spoon. Alice took a bite, smiled, and then proceeded to down the whole glass. The waiters gathered around our table, picked her up, and hugged her. Actually, they still hug her every time we go out to dinner there. The only difference now is we order Alice her own plate of food. Someone does not share nicely.

Baking

I have always listed baking as one of my hobbies/passions, but lately I have been very into it. I am not sure if it is due to the weather this winter/hoax of Spring or pregnancy cravings, but I have been puttering around the kitchen with my dear friends butter, flour, and sugar close to every two weeks or so for the last nine months. Although I would not classify myself as an “organic, back to the earth mommy” I have to admit, in these days of food recalls, that there is some peace of mind in knowing exactly what is in that cake/cookie/pie that I am eating and feeding to my family.

Anyhow, as last Wednesday was a gray rainy day, I decided to while away some time by making a chocolate-cinnamon marble cake. I found the recipe in a chocolate book that I took out from the library. I have been on a quest for the perfect coffee cake recipe as of late so I decided to give this one a go. Alice was happily watching The Backyardigans in the living room. I was happily assembling ingredients in the kitchen. We stayed in our separate spheres until I turned the mixer on; then, like Pavlov’s dog, Alice came running. She grabbed her step stool and positioned it right next to the mixer. As one of the last ingredients to be put in the mix, I added a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. Alice took the empty bag to search for any missed morsels. Upon discovering it completely empty, she looked forlornly into the mixer and called out: “Chocolate come back!” (Wow, she is her mother’s daughter after all.) Her sadness was replaced by upmost joy when I finally shut the mixer off and gave her the beater. She took off like a shot to savor her treat in the living room. Peace and quiet at last. I began assembling the cake. It was one of those recipes where you pour half the batter into the pan, add the middle filling and then top off with the remaining batter. I was smoothing everything out when Alice returned with her perfectly clean beater. She brought her stool over to my new work location and proceeded to watch my painstaking smoothing and marbling of the cake. I was in the middle of making sure everything was even when out of the corner of my eye I saw a quick movement. Alice had dunked her beater back into the pan. The stinker. Despite using this as a lesson against double dipping, I don’t think my message got through. It is hard to listen when you are busy licking.