Alex is in the bathroom; the girls are out in the front room. I'm in the kitchen, waiting to hear the water running for him to wash his hands before lunch.
After several minutes of hearing no water, I walk into the bathroom to remind him again to use water with the soap.
He's standing over the toilet wringing out a sponge. A sponge that we usually use during bathtime. Bathtime has not taken place for several days.
We're a "if it's yellow, let it mellow" family, so... you know... it was mellow. And yellow.
And you know what Chris said when I told him the story? At least it's sterile.
This has made it into the top 5 nastiest things I've ever seen as a parent.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I have finished War and Peace.
Shouldn't that be enough? Geez.
Seriously. I started the book Thursday, February 26th (one of those dates that you start something major and for whatever reason, even if the event is of little importance, you remember it). My initial goal was to finish by the end of May, and in all honesty, I did finish the book but not the Epilogue (a solid 80 pages), Tolstoy's note (another 10), or the Introduction (another 10), so about 100 pages. (And yes, I read the introduction or preface last -- always. I've never understood why so many details are provided before even beginning the book; I always understand better what the author or translator is trying to say in the intro after I've finished the book.)
So it's done. And you know I'm sad. Really, there's a part of me that enjoys a really meaty, long read. I think that's why I love Dickens. Give me a good story and make it last as long as you can -- that'd me my order at the literary diner. Tolstoy did that, to be sure, but like the translator and just about any decent reviewer of the text has said: War and Peace is not a novel. Tolstoy didn't want it to be. It's something different, something unlike anything I've ever read before.
Ok, put away the length for a minute. Imagine that someone is describing a battlefield to you, a layperson who has never been to war. Imagine on that battlefield a raging war ensuing -- fighting, screaming, shouting, confusion. Now imagine trying to write that. Now imagine reading it. And finally, imagine the author stepping outside of the description to philosophize on what was written -- explaining why you (the reader) cannot trust what he (the author) has written because there is no possible way to truly understand what happens on a battlefield -- whose perspective can he write from that will be fair and accurate to what occurred? Tolstoy was after a sense of truth, so infused in the storyline of the battles and the families he traces is literally, a "stepping out of" the text to address us, his readers, pull us out of the story and ask us to pause.
Take this long excerpt, for example:
"Biblical tradition says that absence of work - idleness - was the condition of the first man's blessedness before his fall. The love of idleness remained the same in fallen man, but the curse still weighs on man, and not only because we must win our bread in the sweat of our face, but because our moral qualities are such that we are unable to be idle and at peace. A secret voice tells us that we should feel guilty for being idle. If man could find a condition in which, while idle, he felt that he was being useful and was fulfilling his duty, he would have found one side of primordial blessedness. And this state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness is enjoyed by an entire class -- the military. In this obligatory and irreproachable idleness consists and will consist the chief attraction of military service."
Ouch! These so-called "asides" within the text are not to be overlooked as they are heavy with meaning. That paragraph alone is merely an example of Tolstoy asking us, just before reading about battle, to pause, to think, to consider.
One of Tolstoy's critics comments of War and Peace: "Tolstoy's universe, like Homer's, is what our own is moment to moment. We don't step into it; we are there." That's what I loved about this book. Granted, it took me a good hundred pages to feel that way (I was stepping into a nineteenth century Russian novel -- surprised it didn't take longer!), but once I was engaged in the story, the people, the life, then I was hooked.
A few things that drove me to the bottle during this read-fest:
* I appreciate Tolstoy but because I was oftentimes reading this before bed (not a good plan), I truly feel I missed some of the essence that is War and Peace.
* I love Russian literature so was accustomed to the names, nicknames, patronymic names, etc., but with this many characters, it nearly took me two hundred pages to get them all straight and into the right families.
* After finishing and reading the intro (here's one reason why you should read the intro first), I wish I had paid more attention to the style. That seems silly, but apparently Tolstoy had a fondness for what the translators call "larger rhetorical structures based on repeated triads of nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so on... Tolstoy once boasted that in writing War and Peace, he had used every rhetorical device of the old Latin grammarians, which means they are not there by chance." Perhaps one day I will review a section, maybe a chapter or two...
* Simply the amount of time it took to read. Stretching a book out over four months, you are bound to lose some sense of momentum and I'm sure I did. I felt like I had.
In the end, I've crossed something off of my "things to do in my life" list. I've always wanted to read War and Peace, especially after taking Russian Lit in college and then reading Anna Karenina. I'm not sure I'll ever re-read it, but who knows? For now, it will occupy a well-earned, dog-eared spot on the shelf.
War and Peace
Leo Tolstoy
Translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky
(and for what it's worth, I am claiming two spots on the Book Challenge 2009 -- I think I've earned it!)
Seriously. I started the book Thursday, February 26th (one of those dates that you start something major and for whatever reason, even if the event is of little importance, you remember it). My initial goal was to finish by the end of May, and in all honesty, I did finish the book but not the Epilogue (a solid 80 pages), Tolstoy's note (another 10), or the Introduction (another 10), so about 100 pages. (And yes, I read the introduction or preface last -- always. I've never understood why so many details are provided before even beginning the book; I always understand better what the author or translator is trying to say in the intro after I've finished the book.)
So it's done. And you know I'm sad. Really, there's a part of me that enjoys a really meaty, long read. I think that's why I love Dickens. Give me a good story and make it last as long as you can -- that'd me my order at the literary diner. Tolstoy did that, to be sure, but like the translator and just about any decent reviewer of the text has said: War and Peace is not a novel. Tolstoy didn't want it to be. It's something different, something unlike anything I've ever read before.
Ok, put away the length for a minute. Imagine that someone is describing a battlefield to you, a layperson who has never been to war. Imagine on that battlefield a raging war ensuing -- fighting, screaming, shouting, confusion. Now imagine trying to write that. Now imagine reading it. And finally, imagine the author stepping outside of the description to philosophize on what was written -- explaining why you (the reader) cannot trust what he (the author) has written because there is no possible way to truly understand what happens on a battlefield -- whose perspective can he write from that will be fair and accurate to what occurred? Tolstoy was after a sense of truth, so infused in the storyline of the battles and the families he traces is literally, a "stepping out of" the text to address us, his readers, pull us out of the story and ask us to pause.
Take this long excerpt, for example:
"Biblical tradition says that absence of work - idleness - was the condition of the first man's blessedness before his fall. The love of idleness remained the same in fallen man, but the curse still weighs on man, and not only because we must win our bread in the sweat of our face, but because our moral qualities are such that we are unable to be idle and at peace. A secret voice tells us that we should feel guilty for being idle. If man could find a condition in which, while idle, he felt that he was being useful and was fulfilling his duty, he would have found one side of primordial blessedness. And this state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness is enjoyed by an entire class -- the military. In this obligatory and irreproachable idleness consists and will consist the chief attraction of military service."
Ouch! These so-called "asides" within the text are not to be overlooked as they are heavy with meaning. That paragraph alone is merely an example of Tolstoy asking us, just before reading about battle, to pause, to think, to consider.
One of Tolstoy's critics comments of War and Peace: "Tolstoy's universe, like Homer's, is what our own is moment to moment. We don't step into it; we are there." That's what I loved about this book. Granted, it took me a good hundred pages to feel that way (I was stepping into a nineteenth century Russian novel -- surprised it didn't take longer!), but once I was engaged in the story, the people, the life, then I was hooked.
A few things that drove me to the bottle during this read-fest:
* I appreciate Tolstoy but because I was oftentimes reading this before bed (not a good plan), I truly feel I missed some of the essence that is War and Peace.
* I love Russian literature so was accustomed to the names, nicknames, patronymic names, etc., but with this many characters, it nearly took me two hundred pages to get them all straight and into the right families.
* After finishing and reading the intro (here's one reason why you should read the intro first), I wish I had paid more attention to the style. That seems silly, but apparently Tolstoy had a fondness for what the translators call "larger rhetorical structures based on repeated triads of nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so on... Tolstoy once boasted that in writing War and Peace, he had used every rhetorical device of the old Latin grammarians, which means they are not there by chance." Perhaps one day I will review a section, maybe a chapter or two...
* Simply the amount of time it took to read. Stretching a book out over four months, you are bound to lose some sense of momentum and I'm sure I did. I felt like I had.
In the end, I've crossed something off of my "things to do in my life" list. I've always wanted to read War and Peace, especially after taking Russian Lit in college and then reading Anna Karenina. I'm not sure I'll ever re-read it, but who knows? For now, it will occupy a well-earned, dog-eared spot on the shelf.
War and Peace
Leo Tolstoy
Translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky
(and for what it's worth, I am claiming two spots on the Book Challenge 2009 -- I think I've earned it!)
June: Month of the Binky
I keep saying to myself that she's teething, she's teething (which she is -- that isn't a lie), just let her have the damn binky. She's chewing on it most of the time anyway. But when she isn't, she's definitely sucking on it. The binky doesn't hang from her lip like a cigarette dangles from that old woman sitting at the bar drinking stale coffee: it has an active job in her mouth all the time.
And her mouth really hasn't seen the sun since the beginning of the month. When will those molars be in so the binky fairies can come and collect all of their loot?
Regardless of the needs of the binky-loving babe, I'm ready for the month o' binky to be over.
And her mouth really hasn't seen the sun since the beginning of the month. When will those molars be in so the binky fairies can come and collect all of their loot?
Regardless of the needs of the binky-loving babe, I'm ready for the month o' binky to be over.Monday, June 22, 2009
That's right readers: we'll take autographs now.
Make a line towards the back; kids up front (we'll even shake your hand).
Stop the press: the family is in the newspaper. I know, it's still around! (the newspaper, I mean)
See the lower right hand corner? Captivating force headline?
Ohhh yeah, baby. I even got my name in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS. That's gotta stand for something, right? What's funny about this picture is that although we were at our little local airport's open house, we actually weren't looking up at planes -- we were looking at a hawk flying above us. It was beautiful with a wide wingspan, downy feathers underneath, just circling above us. Stunning. And funny, now.
So Happy Father's Day out there to all the readers who either are dads, who want to be dads, who wish they were dads, who sometimes borrow other people's kids and act like dads, and for those folks who are dads to non-humans (cats -- I'm thinking of you G.F.). Happy Day. 
As Taya sat in an airplane, we were reminded that girls don't fly planes in pretty shirts so 'get me out of here'.
Stop the press: the family is in the newspaper. I know, it's still around! (the newspaper, I mean)
See the lower right hand corner? Captivating force headline?
Ohhh yeah, baby. I even got my name in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS. That's gotta stand for something, right? What's funny about this picture is that although we were at our little local airport's open house, we actually weren't looking up at planes -- we were looking at a hawk flying above us. It was beautiful with a wide wingspan, downy feathers underneath, just circling above us. Stunning. And funny, now.So Happy Father's Day out there to all the readers who either are dads, who want to be dads, who wish they were dads, who sometimes borrow other people's kids and act like dads, and for those folks who are dads to non-humans (cats -- I'm thinking of you G.F.). Happy Day.
We spent the bulk of our day at the airport open house where we learned all kinds of things.
We were reminded of Alex's total love of helicopters -- see his smile through the glass? (We had to wipe the drool off afterwards.)
As Taya sat in an airplane, we were reminded that girls don't fly planes in pretty shirts so 'get me out of here'. Some folks who do face painting are actually really good!
The Miller tots can take a picture with Mom as long as she's not barking orders to clean something up or stop hitting someone.
And, of course, we were reminded how cute our little patooties are :)
Oh, did you drop something? Are these ants?
The Miller tots can take a picture with Mom as long as she's not barking orders to clean something up or stop hitting someone.And, of course, we were reminded how cute our little patooties are :)Oh, did you drop something? Are these ants?Monday, June 15, 2009
Fairies in Fairyland
Ahhh, the joys of birthday parties. This one took place at Fairyland in Oakland, a place we'd never been before and now, a place we will probably return, at least once. Good stuff.
Imagine all of the fairy tales you can and then put them into miniature sculptures.
There are rides...
And animals, and little houses to run in and out of, and and and...
...there has been no nap. 
Three hours and we're done. Makes me think, hmmm... how old will they have to be for Disneyland? Seriously. What did Alex get later that evening? His first haircut, a la Dada.
The picture is grainy because I took it through the kitchen window screen, but I like the 70's Kodak look of it -- this one's a keeper, and coming out when he starts dating. I'll start the file now.
Imagine all of the fairy tales you can and then put them into miniature sculptures.
There are rides...And animals, and little houses to run in and out of, and and and...
...there has been no nap. 
Three hours and we're done. Makes me think, hmmm... how old will they have to be for Disneyland? Seriously. What did Alex get later that evening? His first haircut, a la Dada. 
The picture is grainy because I took it through the kitchen window screen, but I like the 70's Kodak look of it -- this one's a keeper, and coming out when he starts dating. I'll start the file now.Friday, June 12, 2009
Thankful For...
Things I'm thankful for today... the "It's Friday and it has been a long week" version. (Inspired by a friend of mine who never fails to put together an honest and true "thankful for" list nearly every day.)
Today I'm thankful that I got a shower where I didn't have to sing "Baa Baa Black Sheep" through the clear vinyl curtain.
I'm thankful Taya didn't need a trip to the ER yesterday when she slipped off the rounded ladder at the playground and hit the back of her head on the metal bars.
I'm thankful that although Sara is in the middle of molar teething misery, it really is the beginning of the end of baby teeth for all three of them. Hallelujah: angels are singing.
For that, I'm thankful for Infant Motrin and Merlot.
I'm thankful that I'm not a wife or mom in the 50's and that I have the following available to me: Trader Joe's nearly-instant dinners; PBS with solid kids programming in the early evening; a husband who will allow me to be a total meanie-head when he gets home so I can unload from the day. And no, I'm not holding a drink in my hand, either.
Of course, I'm thankful that my kids are healthy, but really, I'm happy that my kids are good kids, as much as I vent about them sometimes.
I'm thankful that I'm able to spend this time with them, even though I think about my former life every day and miss it just as much; I try to embrace the gift I have, but that wrapping paper is pretty tough sometimes.
I'm thankful, period. I shouldn't complain as much as I do, but there are some days.... anyway, suffice it to say that today, I'm thankful...
Today I'm thankful that I got a shower where I didn't have to sing "Baa Baa Black Sheep" through the clear vinyl curtain.
I'm thankful Taya didn't need a trip to the ER yesterday when she slipped off the rounded ladder at the playground and hit the back of her head on the metal bars.
I'm thankful that although Sara is in the middle of molar teething misery, it really is the beginning of the end of baby teeth for all three of them. Hallelujah: angels are singing.
For that, I'm thankful for Infant Motrin and Merlot.
I'm thankful that I'm not a wife or mom in the 50's and that I have the following available to me: Trader Joe's nearly-instant dinners; PBS with solid kids programming in the early evening; a husband who will allow me to be a total meanie-head when he gets home so I can unload from the day. And no, I'm not holding a drink in my hand, either.
Of course, I'm thankful that my kids are healthy, but really, I'm happy that my kids are good kids, as much as I vent about them sometimes.
I'm thankful that I'm able to spend this time with them, even though I think about my former life every day and miss it just as much; I try to embrace the gift I have, but that wrapping paper is pretty tough sometimes.
I'm thankful, period. I shouldn't complain as much as I do, but there are some days.... anyway, suffice it to say that today, I'm thankful...
Taya: Goodness Comes to Those Who...
Ask Princess Taya if it's ok.
You think I'm kidding.
Didn't you see the wand? Taya has recently become a true mamacita. That's not a joke here! Lil' Mama has taken quite a liking to ordering kids around, putting her toys (and, attempted several times, her brother) in time-out, and making sure Sara has a clean diaper (looooong story, so not appopriate for the blog). You can imagine the fun times.
She has also totally stunned us by spelling her name. Chris asked her one day if she could spell her name and she flat out said, "Of course Dada: T A Y A. That spells Taya!" And then, "A is for Alex and S is for Sara." I think that deserves a raise, don'tcha think? We've decided to put dance class on hold for a while ("No, Mama, I don't want to go to dance class) and instead try to see just how many times she can utter the word "no" in an hour. (I lost count at the thirty-minute mark.) If you know people who lament about the terrible twos, clearly they don't have a three-year-old yet. I hear that a major transition will happen around four years of age; how many days are left? Seriously. What's frightening is that a good number of people have told (e.g. "warned") me that the behavior we see during this time will resemble the teenage years. While yes, I do still carry my high-school-teacher-body-armor, if what I saw today is any indication, I'm going to need an armor upgrade.
Here's the little mama in action, beginning with her very first puzzle -- completed!!!
You think I'm kidding.
Didn't you see the wand? Taya has recently become a true mamacita. That's not a joke here! Lil' Mama has taken quite a liking to ordering kids around, putting her toys (and, attempted several times, her brother) in time-out, and making sure Sara has a clean diaper (looooong story, so not appopriate for the blog). You can imagine the fun times.
She has also totally stunned us by spelling her name. Chris asked her one day if she could spell her name and she flat out said, "Of course Dada: T A Y A. That spells Taya!" And then, "A is for Alex and S is for Sara." I think that deserves a raise, don'tcha think? We've decided to put dance class on hold for a while ("No, Mama, I don't want to go to dance class) and instead try to see just how many times she can utter the word "no" in an hour. (I lost count at the thirty-minute mark.) If you know people who lament about the terrible twos, clearly they don't have a three-year-old yet. I hear that a major transition will happen around four years of age; how many days are left? Seriously. What's frightening is that a good number of people have told (e.g. "warned") me that the behavior we see during this time will resemble the teenage years. While yes, I do still carry my high-school-teacher-body-armor, if what I saw today is any indication, I'm going to need an armor upgrade.
Here's the little mama in action, beginning with her very first puzzle -- completed!!!
Alex: Boy Wonder...
As in... "wonder what you're up to." I'm pretty sure that's what the creators meant the first time around. Mr. "All Boy All the Time" (a title which he uses to describe himself sometimes, funnily enough) has become just that: all boy. No more playing with anything that doesn't involve wheels, loud noises, or general destruction. When did this happen? Where's my son? I think we might enroll him in toddler wrestling (if it exists) because at least then he would learn how to properly pin someone without stepping on their hair -- that would spare some of the quarrels with the girls, right?
Did I mention that he's potty-trained? Yep. Here's how it happened. We did bribes: fancy Matchbox cars, a dump truck and a golf cart courtesy of Longs (but they were cool!), bribes. Sitting on the mantle where Taya's princesses often landed in timeout (oh the stories we created about the time-out princesses and the bribe cards -- like Vegas, only better). So he "earned" (e.g. "poop preformed for") all his cards; the jig was up. We knew he could do it. The timing was perfect because he was on the last sleeve of Diapers, so we told him -- flat out -- that we weren't going to buy anymore. No more. And do you know what he said? "Okay." Okay? All this time and you.... you just say ok? Sure enough, that very day, he started pooping in the potty all the time. Note to self and others: never underestimate your child. Seriously.
Sometime in the midst of all that, he grew a little; almost hit the 30-pound mark; and got his first black eye (courtesy of his big sister, pushing him against a little plastic trash can when they should have been sleeping). Sigh.
Beginning his picture blitz is my new favorite picture of him. In this photo, I see him as an young man: handsome, confident, and sweet.
Did I mention that he's potty-trained? Yep. Here's how it happened. We did bribes: fancy Matchbox cars, a dump truck and a golf cart courtesy of Longs (but they were cool!), bribes. Sitting on the mantle where Taya's princesses often landed in timeout (oh the stories we created about the time-out princesses and the bribe cards -- like Vegas, only better). So he "earned" (e.g. "poop preformed for") all his cards; the jig was up. We knew he could do it. The timing was perfect because he was on the last sleeve of Diapers, so we told him -- flat out -- that we weren't going to buy anymore. No more. And do you know what he said? "Okay." Okay? All this time and you.... you just say ok? Sure enough, that very day, he started pooping in the potty all the time. Note to self and others: never underestimate your child. Seriously.
Sometime in the midst of all that, he grew a little; almost hit the 30-pound mark; and got his first black eye (courtesy of his big sister, pushing him against a little plastic trash can when they should have been sleeping). Sigh.
Beginning his picture blitz is my new favorite picture of him. In this photo, I see him as an young man: handsome, confident, and sweet.
Sara: Portrait of a Baby Long Gone
So much for "watch out for the baby!" We are full steam ahead into toddlerhood with this little one -- and a word to the wise for all those folks who are expecting (or who hope to someday have) Baby #2: you are in for a humdinger of a time. I'm serious. This little small fry takes notes on everything -- and forgets nothing. She watches Alex and Taya under the guise of a young baby yearning to learn about the world, but within minutes will attempt whatever they just either got away with or didn't -- and then check my reaction. Excuse me? I did not sign up for this!
Along with the note-taking skills, she is much more verbal, skipping words to full-on sentences. Her repertoire now includes the following words/phrases:
* I do it (her first "word")
* Right here.
* This.
* Hot dog (thanks to the sibs)
* Please (comes out "pees")
* Thank you ("kank-oo")
* Alex ("Ack-ax"), so we shorten to Bubba
* Taya (sounds like Dada, so we have to be careful)
* Kitty, Elmo, balloon, mine, no, yes, ok...
There are more I'm forgetting, but that's a start.
As Sara grows (along with her mullet-head hair), so does her sense of humor. She's got quite a little personality. Example: if you are singing a song she doesn't like, she will take her hands, place them on your face (likely your chin or cheeks), move your head so you are facing her and say "no no no". Then she will attempt to tell you, with signs, garbled words, and near-violent head-tossing which song she wants to hear. Good luck on that one.
Pics from the last few weeks.
Along with the note-taking skills, she is much more verbal, skipping words to full-on sentences. Her repertoire now includes the following words/phrases:
* I do it (her first "word")
* Right here.
* This.
* Hot dog (thanks to the sibs)
* Please (comes out "pees")
* Thank you ("kank-oo")
* Alex ("Ack-ax"), so we shorten to Bubba
* Taya (sounds like Dada, so we have to be careful)
* Kitty, Elmo, balloon, mine, no, yes, ok...
There are more I'm forgetting, but that's a start.
As Sara grows (along with her mullet-head hair), so does her sense of humor. She's got quite a little personality. Example: if you are singing a song she doesn't like, she will take her hands, place them on your face (likely your chin or cheeks), move your head so you are facing her and say "no no no". Then she will attempt to tell you, with signs, garbled words, and near-violent head-tossing which song she wants to hear. Good luck on that one.
Pics from the last few weeks.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Poor, poor blog.
Ignored.
Forgotten.
Alas.
Actually, life has been unexpectedly busy. Chris got a new job (hooray!) but is now working in an office all day, every day. Which means that I am at home, all day every day, alone with three kids. Need I say more?
Oh yeah. And I got a job. The glorified job title is "Adjunct Teaching Assistant" for an online university, but really, the job is "the one who grades another teacher's papers for a small pittance". Anyhow. I'm in the middle of week four of the first five-week class I'm assisting in, and the learning curve has been steep. Apologies. (Did I mention that there are 60 people in this class?)
And one more thing about blogging that will change, probably tomorrow when I finally post pictures (we had some camera issues for a few weeks):
You know, every day there are moments where I think That would make a great blog. But by the end of the day, those moments are long forgotten amidst the hailstorm that is a day at home with three kids and then attempting to grade a few papers. The blog was originally formed as a haven for thinking, for reflecting, and for sharing. Now that my life (our lives) have changed so much, the blog needs to change, too. No, I'm not advocating anything as short-lived as Twitter (which, someone shoot me if I ever get on board with); but look forward to more blogs, shorter blogs. More like little snippets of thought with maybe a picture thrown in. Long blogs on those weeks when I don't have papers, when small fry isn't teething molars, and when bedtime at 9:00 can be stretched a little later. (Mornings happen early around here)
I have some catching up to do, but tonight it's late. Pictures tomorrow, I promise, along with recent headlines. For now, a few videos...
The Tiny Dancers
Becoming more and more of a ritual, Sara and Taya work on their interpretive dance moves.
Teethbrushers, Unite!
(Or, in Mom-speak, "The best $20 I've spent in a long time.)
Just the Beginning
What I like about this 30-second clip is the two different playing styles, but then Alex's orca whale defies all that Taya's deer hold sacred in the world. Funny stuff.
Blocktime
Sara's in that cutie-patootie phase; Taya intently builds blocks (totally stoked that she figured out how to stack them upside down); and Alex, waiting patiently for the moment he can knock them down.
Forgotten.
Alas.
Actually, life has been unexpectedly busy. Chris got a new job (hooray!) but is now working in an office all day, every day. Which means that I am at home, all day every day, alone with three kids. Need I say more?
Oh yeah. And I got a job. The glorified job title is "Adjunct Teaching Assistant" for an online university, but really, the job is "the one who grades another teacher's papers for a small pittance". Anyhow. I'm in the middle of week four of the first five-week class I'm assisting in, and the learning curve has been steep. Apologies. (Did I mention that there are 60 people in this class?)
And one more thing about blogging that will change, probably tomorrow when I finally post pictures (we had some camera issues for a few weeks):
You know, every day there are moments where I think That would make a great blog. But by the end of the day, those moments are long forgotten amidst the hailstorm that is a day at home with three kids and then attempting to grade a few papers. The blog was originally formed as a haven for thinking, for reflecting, and for sharing. Now that my life (our lives) have changed so much, the blog needs to change, too. No, I'm not advocating anything as short-lived as Twitter (which, someone shoot me if I ever get on board with); but look forward to more blogs, shorter blogs. More like little snippets of thought with maybe a picture thrown in. Long blogs on those weeks when I don't have papers, when small fry isn't teething molars, and when bedtime at 9:00 can be stretched a little later. (Mornings happen early around here)
I have some catching up to do, but tonight it's late. Pictures tomorrow, I promise, along with recent headlines. For now, a few videos...
The Tiny Dancers
Becoming more and more of a ritual, Sara and Taya work on their interpretive dance moves.
Teethbrushers, Unite!
(Or, in Mom-speak, "The best $20 I've spent in a long time.)
Just the Beginning
What I like about this 30-second clip is the two different playing styles, but then Alex's orca whale defies all that Taya's deer hold sacred in the world. Funny stuff.
Blocktime
Sara's in that cutie-patootie phase; Taya intently builds blocks (totally stoked that she figured out how to stack them upside down); and Alex, waiting patiently for the moment he can knock them down.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Never doing anything half-ass.
First, allow me to say that our server has been down and I haven't been able to post -- a crying shame! -- because big things have been a' happenin' down at the Miller house.
As they might appear in newspaper headlines:
* Alex lost a fight with a trash can (and by that I mean an interlude in which Alex's body was hurtled through the air by his older sister and landed astride a plastic trash can).
* On Monday, we attended KidFest here in Concord and walked away with a hermit crab. (Note: do not walk away with a hermit crab.) A visit to Petco, two more hermit crabs (because apparently, they are social creatures), and a new habitat (plus decor) later, we began the pet-filled journey that is having children. (The crabs a photo shy... try again later)
* Not that we can blame the kid entirely: yesterday we visited our local pound and brought home a kitty friend for Curlie Sue. The name of our new furry family member? Doc Marley. ('Doc' for the character in the movie Cars, and 'Marley' for, well, Bob Marley, because this cat -- 2 years old -- is seriously chill. We're pretty sure he'll be wearing dresses and crowns, attending tea parties with the girls in the not too far off future.)
Next up: gratuitous photos of the kiddos in action...
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