Thank You, My Friend

A couple of weeks ago I posted a link to a wonderful onesie to Facebook with the chastening plea that "Every minute you're not buying this for Maddsy is a minute in which you're proving that you're not really my friend."  Or something like that.  I'm not looking up the actual line because 1) I'm lazy, 2) I'm not a journalist, and 3) Shut up.  This is just a blog, so why don't you take your standards and shove them right quick.  RIGHT GODDAMN QUICK.

Anyway, I posted this inexpertly quoted message, and within a few days Miss Madeline received this expertly modeled gift in the mail.

Yeah, she was in the shit.

I have yet to find out who sent it, which is very exciting for me and deeply disturbing for SLB.  I'm assuming that the generous angel who sent this onesie reads this blog, or at least he or she will read it when I promote it on Facebook, and so I send him or her sincere thanks for his or her thoughtfulness and quick response to greedy demands.  We'll go far, my anonymous benefactor and I.  

And, yes, for those who ask tongue-in-cheekily, Madeline Mae IS just about the happiest baby in the world.    We're still exhausted by the nighttime wake-ups, but the daytimes are all about snuggles and smiles and kisses and uncoordinated wiggling on everyone's part.

Even the paparazzi likes to get in on the wiggly action during photo shoots.

She's totally going to sell that to OK! for thousands...

...or just blast through the photographer/subject divide for some sisterly bonding.

"Livy, get out of my light!"

Clearly adoration like this is worth compromising a few key shots.

Teach Your Children Well

Hello, old friends!  We're finally starting to come up for air here at Me Show Central after a relentless whirlwind of Halloween, colds, Thanksgiving, colds, stomach flu, Christmas, sleep training, colds, New Years, and colds.  That's an overwhelming list to try to recap in one post, so let me just say this:

Larsen ladies in effect, y'all!

You see those people?  The little ones snuggling in that chair?  They are relentlessly adorable and relentlessly exhausting in equal measure.  I look at that picture and I'm as weak with devotion as much as I'm weak with fatigue.  God, I love 'em.  God, I'm tired.  Wash, rinse, repeat for at least 2 more years, or until they both agree to sleep through the night - the same night - at the same time.

So, this may not be my most coherent post, but due to repeated requests for information on my jumbled (but effective!) approach to teaching Livy to read, I'm writing it anyway.  Jessica, Aley, Katie, and Mrs. Miller:  This one goes out to you.

First things first, my kid ain't your kid, and my kid ain't normal.  She knew her letters by sight at 18 months, she spoke early, and she's always been drawn to language and books.  She is this kid.

15 months, and all we did was read books all day long.

She is also this kid.

20 months - letter recognition fully down and working on bizarre sight words.

So, no, she's not typical.  This means that, as much as I would love to take credit for being a fantastic, Annie-Sullivan-caliber teacher here, really I can't.  Livy was bound to acquire verbal skills readily and easily because of who she is, not because of what we've done together with books and reading tools.  Thus, obviously, but it must be said lest I start sounding too much like a blowhard, your mileage may vary with these suggestions.  

1.  Read to your kid frequently, early, and often.

This seems intuitive, but it was really hard for us to implement until I built it into a regular schedule.  I began when Livy was a little over a year old by choosing three hardcover picture books every morning and reading them to her with her on my lap so that I could control the paper pages and make sure she couldn't maul them too badly during story time.  Then I added in an afternoon, post-nap book time during which she and I would paw through her basket of board books, and I'd read anything she chose as many times as she chose it until she was ready to do something else.  Sometimes afternoon book time lasted 5 minutes, and sometimes a half hour or more.  Now, being an Awesome Housewife, I had the luxury of time on my hands, but I believe it was the regularity of this practice that nurtured her love of books rather than the quantity of time we spent reading.  On days when we're really pressed for time, I've read to Livy during meals and during bath time (We had a good thing going where I'd read her poetry during her bath - we need to start that up again.).    

2.  Regularly expose them to letters.

It's easy to understand - if you want your kid to learn his or her letters, then you've got to show him or her letters.  We started insanely early because I am an insane babbler and constant singer.  In addition to repeating the alphabet song until my voice hurt, when Livy was a baby I also made up a goofy little song whose only words are "O-L-I-V-I-A, O-L-I-V-I-A, Olivia!," and then I sang it all the time.  That, plus Livy's love of a beautiful piece of custom name artwork from Auntie Morah, led to this:

Yep, she's 19 months old and attempting to spell her own name.  Also, there is a poop joke in there, you lucky devils!

We also played with a smaller set of these foam letters a lot, at first in the tub and then out of the tub, where she'd randomly fish them from the dispenser lid of old, plastic wipes holder for me to identify.  My mother-in-law's preschool also had this toy (It wasn't this expensive when we bought it; there must be a new version that's cheaper), which Livy loved, and so I bought one for our house, too.  That, plus reading tons of alphabet books, both ours and those that we borrowed from the library, really helped cement her alphabet identification.

3.  Books, Books, Books.

Quality is good, but at this point quantity is better.  If you're going to read lots of books with your kids, then you need lots of books to read.  Although I am an admitted book snob (Sookie Stackhouse and Alexia Tarabotti notwithstanding), in the early days of Livy's book journey, I put no limits on what we read during the day.  The booty from a book shower at the school where I was teaching when pregnant with Liv got us off to a good start in building a children's library in our home, and my rampant bibliophilia has added to that library mightily.  Now that Livy has a keener understanding of narrative and plot, I'm starting to weed out the literary twaddle and replace it with more quality children's literature, specifically feminist picture books, Caldecott Award winners and nominees, and books about whatever scientific topic is currently piquing Livy's interest (mostly space, volcanoes, and snow/winter).  I buy from everywhere, but especially love finding books at thrift stores, yard sales, and used book stores.  Scholastic.com is a great resource for paperbacks and thematic packs of books, plus my mother-in-law's preschool benefits from our purchases.  We also bring home sacks of books from the library to enjoy, and I'll order particular favorites from Powells.com or Amazon.com (Having worked at the best children's bookstore in the world, Bank Street Bookstore, I realize that I should be ordering from them.  I will remedy this immediately.)  Out of print favorites from the library are easy to find on Abebooks.com.  If I'm feeling adventurous and have the time and patience to go browsing with Livy, we'll go to Secret Garden Books or Third Place Books, both of which have excellent children's sections.  

And so that's what has worked.  Now that Olivia is showing an enormous interest in learning how to read, which I have expertly discerned from her cryptic comments like "Mommy, would you please teach me how to read?," we're off into the world of direct instruction.  So, these aren't so much suggestions as mere peeks into our current practice.  I don't know if or how they'll work in the long run, but this is what we're doing.

1.  The Ordinary Parents' Guide to Teaching Reading.

So far, with some tweaking, I really like using this book.  It's a great, straightforward curriculum for teaching phonics at home.  We followed the plan strictly for learning short vowel sounds, and then veered away from it a bit since Livy already knew her consonant sounds.  Now we're back for learning three-letter words using those short vowel sounds, and it's working wonderfully.  It involves a lot of index cards, so we've invested in a few packs of those and a plastic envelope for containing them.  Beyond that, all it requires is the book - no special materials required.  Easy peasy.

2.  Bob Books

We used to sell the daylights out of these at Bank Street Bookstore, and I know why now.  They're fantastic for the little people using them to learn how to read and easy for the big people helping them to use.  Each book has an illustrated list of the letter sounds used in it (M has a moon next to it, etc.), so kids can tell right away which sounds to look out for.  The stories are not riveting for adults, except for the book with the line "Muff has nine rags," but Livy genuinely likes them.

3.  Homeschooling binder & activity books.

We just started this a couple of weeks ago, and it's more of a playtime toy at this point than a serious piece of instruction, but I've made Livy what I'm calling her homeschooling binder. Livy has a number of preschool-oriented workbooks, some gifts and two that I purchased on learning how to print, and I've torn out some of their pages and put them into page protectors within the binder.  With the page protectors over the worksheets, she can use them over and over again with whiteboard markers.  So far my only intention with these pages is to get her to practice her pencil grip and start controlling her pen strokes in preparation for learning how to write.  She thinks it's fun to use the whiteboard pens, and she gets in a few minutes of concentrated small motor practice a day.  If it works, we can continue to use it for the reading, writing, and math exercises included in the workbooks.  So far she likes "doing school" with her binder and seems to be controlling her writing grip better.  Liv also has a number of cheap activity books with dot-to-dots, puzzles, and mazes in them that she likes to do.  While they're clearly games, I consider them legitimate educational activities in that she practices her small motor skills while improving her concentration and perseverance (you'd better bet I don't let her leave pages half done).

4.  LeapFrog Fridge Words Magnetic Word Builder

Santa got Livy this for Christmas, knowing that she loved the letter-based version of this, but the jury is still out.  Sometimes she plays with it, but she prefers to just make me write 3-letter words on index cards for her to carry around all day long.  We'll keep trying with it, but so far the verdict is an apathetic "meh."

Having written all of this, it seems like a lot.  It's not.  At all.  We do about 4 dedicated "lessons" a week, usually during breakfast, and each of those is about 5-10 minutes long.  No biggie whatsoever.

Best of luck, friends!  Happy reading!

Stuff and Things

It's been a busy week here at Me Show central, what with our cousin Hanna visiting and prompting visits to the Puyallup (pyoo-AL-up, Morah, not POY-ul-up) Fair and Seattle Aquarium, among other places, for everyone but Madeline and me.  I'd write something that would encompass all of these events in a witty and pithy way, but I'm terribly sleep-deprived from, you know, the sleep deprivation.  That, plus the soaring crescendo of a sugar high achieved through the manic consumption of an entire box of dark chocolate-covered caramels, have rendered me inarticulate.  So, here, look at these pictures instead.  They're said to be worth thousands of words, or at least a gander.

Sleep smile!  Wakey smiles are rare, but they happen now.  This is Madeline's first smile captured photographically.

Giggles!

Snuggles!

First tea party with Me Show favorite, Liam!

The People Have Spoken!

I wish I'd thought of this.  My friends Katie (who gave birth in a Honda Civic) & Jonathan (who delivered his son in a Honda Civic - coinkidink!) had help this election day from their daughter Amelia.  Next time election day rolls around, you can bet we'll be including Livy's counsel in our choices.  It's time for that kid to pull her weight in this democracy.

The Goose Is Getting Fat!

Now that Livy is a fully sentient being with the capability of understanding and remembering holiday traditions, I'm trying to be purposeful in determining how we celebrate.  Halloween was a huge deal this year, with 2 parties here, 1 at a friend's house, and trick-or-treating with school, friends, and Daddy & Mommy.  Livy loved all the excitement, and, because Halloween is my favorite holiday, so did I.  It was a great month of spooky fun, and I'm sad to see it go.

So, to replace it, I'm starting to plan our Christmas holidays.  I'm usually a grinchy Christmas grump, but if I'm ever going to be Mother of the Year, that's got to change.  In spite of my grumpiness I've always wanted to do an Advent calendar, not because I believe in Advent, but just for the opportunity to amp up Christmas anticipation.  Because candy makes Livy a crazy beast, though, a traditional Advent calendar is out of the question.  Instead, I'm stealing this fine blog's idea instead and doing a Christmas/Winter/Holiday book Advent calendar.  Because Livy's school (Owned and run by her Oma - see how awesome that is?) participates in Scholastic book orders, I just put in a mammoth order for 24 holiday books to wrap and clothespin to some red yarn strung garland-style in our living room.  Each day after breakfast we'll open a new book, read it together, and add it to our growing stockpile of Christmas goodness.  The final book will be "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," of course, because it's that kind of attention to detail that makes you a wonderful parent in the eyes of blog readers everywhere.

I'm also going to steal Mrs. Miller's fine family tradition of watching Christmas movies together and watch at least one ever weekend in December with SLB and, depending on her attention span, Olivia.  I already love Elf, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, It's a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, A Christmas Story, and Love, Actually, so that's a great start.  And it just wouldn't be Christmas without rereading Mrs. Miller's treatise on whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas classic, which might actually rival "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" for holiday reverence in this household.  Alan Rickman, apparently, is the reason for the Christmas cinematic season.  Who knew?

That's our preemptive strike against grinchiness, people.  What are your holiday plans?  Do you have any fine suggestions I can add to those above?  I think we can all agree that I need all the help I can get.

Family Of Origin, Meet New Family: A Social Contract

Hi, friends!

I'm about to get into some touchy stuff here, so you'll have to pardon my atypical lack of inappropriate jokes and snarkiness.  You may not have heard, but I have a 2 year-old.  I was also, aside from a few fertile friends back east, on the vanguard of my cohort's procreation, which means that now I get to watch all of my buddies going through their own pregnancy and new parent experiences.  One universal experience, in addition to desperate exhaustion and sore nipples, is the challenge of managing relationships within couples' families of origin while forming their identity with their children as new families of their own.  And so, prompted both by recent conversations with my parent friends, whom I asked specifically for their stories, and recent questions from older family members and friends asking for advice on how best to engage with new parents in their lives, I give you this: A humble code of conduct for both new parents and their families of origin.  I'm sure I'm missing a lot here, and you're all welcome to add your own advice or stories in the comments.  But, after informally interviewing about a dozen friends, I've distilled their stories into a few pithy nuggets, hopefully to the benefit of families both new and established.

1.  It's all about communication.

Lots of people I talked to identified boundaries as the most important theme of blending new families with families of origin, but I disagree.  Differing notions of boundaries certainly did lead to conflict, but preceding the violation of people’s boundaries was nearly always flawed or nonexistent communication.  Most of the conflicts and rifts identified in my friends' stories involved miscommunication and, more commonly, a complete lack of communication between families of origin and new families.  People, you’ve got to talk this shit out before it hits the fan, so to speak.  New parents, just as you have a birth plan that you share with your delivery team, please form and share a visitation plan with your family.  Do you want your mom in the delivery room?  If so, then of course you’d ask her in advance.  Do you absolutely not want visitors at the hospital?  Then you should tell those most likely to visit in advance of the baby’s arrival that you want time alone to recover (if necessary, detail what exactly a fourth-degree tear or cracked nipple is) and bond with your new baby.  It’s hard to tell your parents, aunts, uncles, friends, and whatnots not to show up at the hospital with flowers and chocolates when all they want to do is visit your beautiful new baby, but it’s much, much harder to tell them to get the hell out when they’re already there.  Also, be clear on family visits’ beginnings and endings, hand-washing rules, and any other guidelines you’d like visitors to follow with your little one.  All reasonable people will be comforted by knowing exactly what’s expected of them during visits.  And for those who are unreasonable?  Well, cowboy- and –girl up, new parents, and stand up for your rights as the new sheriffs in town.

And, families of origin, please don’t think you’re walking away from this topic unscathed here.  For the love of all that is holy in both your family and the universe, YOU MUST ASK before you show up anywhere near the new family immediately before, during, or after the new child’s birth.  Yes, I know you’re excited about the new arrival, but this is some tender, private, and intensely personal stuff going on here.  Please, please respect that.  Ask before you show up at the hospital, ask before you show up at the house, and then listen to and obey the answers that you get.  You’ll have plenty of time to hold that little baby, and it’s much better to interact with the loving and grateful parents of a newborn than it is to endure the anger or passive-aggression of new parents who feel put-upon or, in one respondent’s word “victimized” by overbearing relatives. 

Alternately, if the new parents insist that it’s cool that you all visit and partake of miracle of new life, please don’t repeatedly ask “Are you sure?”  Take the new family at their word.  It’s exhausting trying to assuage the emotional fears of boundary-leery families of origin during a visit.  If you’re not sure of being there, family and friends, then say you’d rather visit later.  And on the flip side of that coin, new parents, please don’t force people to hold your newborn.  “Are you sure?” is often code for “I don’t wanna!,” and you have to respect others’ boundaries as much as you’d like your own respected.

Finally, because so many people had similar stories, let me make this one its own all-caps sentence.  DO NOT SURPRISE ANY NEW FAMILY WITH AN UNANNOUNCED VISIT.  No.  Just don’t.  I don’t care how delightful you anticipate it being, I promise that everyone loses in this scenario.

So, everybody, let’s agree to be clear, be fair, and be respectful during this time of joyful transition.  It’s what we’d do in interactions with casual acquaintances, so let’s afford these basic courtesies to our most beloved family members, too.

2.  It’s all about calories.

Everyone I spoke with – everyone – answered my request for advice on things that would most help new parents with a unanimous “Bring food!”  I couldn’t agree more.  I remember every single meal my family and friends brought to our home after Livy was born, and I’ve never been so grateful for chili, pasta sauce, and bean soup (Mom); Whole Foods haul, meatloaves, yummy chicken dish, and tomato and egg pie (Kirk & Katie); veggie lasagna (Edie & Michael); Pasta & Co. extravaganza (Nathan & Ruby); nummy Indian food (Katie & Jonathan); Israeli couscous & green salad (Morah); sandwiches & salad (Kathy & Omi); and more Cupcake Royale deliveries than I care to admit to (Jeremy & Krissie).  There.  See how I did that more than 2 years after the fact?  That’s because when you’re exhausted and don’t want to cook, injured (Oh, HI, enormous abdominal scar!) and can’t cook, and are nursing and want to eat all the damn time, food matters.  So if you go to visit a family with a new baby, you’d do well to bring some chow with you, and you’d do best to see what kind of chow your new friends want or crave.  Don’t bring meat to a vegetarian, and don’t bring a 9^th pasta dish to a family that’s choking on donated carbs.  Call, ask, and deliver.  And, no, friends, those calories are not for you.  You’re not going to a potluck; you are on a mission of mercy.  Go, drop off the food, say how beautiful the baby is, and take off.

Or, if you’re going for a gold star, before taking off ask what chores or errands the new family needs you to do or run.  That’s right; an offer to burn some calories for the happy family will be as appreciated as a direct delivery of calories to them, possibly more.  Hold the baby while Mom & Dad catch up on sleep or get out of the house for a while, or fold some laundry, do some dishes, take the dog for a walk, or the like.  Ask what the new parents need, and then give them what they ask for.  And, hey, new parents!  When people offer to help, let them!  Answer honestly if people ask you what you need help with!  The people who love you will be delighted to help you, and, admit it, you need the help. 

3.  It’s all about support.

One respondent to my informal interview said that a family member visiting her new little family to lend support told her how awful she had looked when she was in the hospital.  That’s not supportive.  Another friend wrote of how her mother-in-law compared her new grandchild to her other grandchild, the son of my friend’s brother-in-law.  That’s not supportive.  A family member told me that it was too bad that Livy got my (luminous!  glorious!) pale skin.  That’s not supportive.  A family committed to cloth diapering was told how stupid and wrong it is.  A mother working hard to breastfeed on demand was told that she was spoiling her child and should stop.  A mother who couldn’t breastfeed was told that she was depriving her child and should start (how exactly we haven’t yet determined).  Parents committed to comforting their child on demand are told to let their child cry it out, and parents letting their child cry it out are told to respond to the child on demand.  A mother of a colicky baby was given a dismissive lecture on how much harder it will be to raise her son when he’s a teenager.  That’s not supportive. 

What is supportive is helping new families make the parenting strategies they’ve decided on work for them.  Figure out how you can do that, and if you can’t do that then politely and silently remain a shoulder to cry and vent on.  Anyone can say “I know this is hard, but it won’t always be so difficult.”  Try that.  I promise that you’ll do more good that way than by responding to other people’s challenges with criticism.  And, as a rule of thumb, every new baby is gorgeous, every new mother is a pillar of strength, and every new father is a natural.  If you can’t find anything genuinely complimentary to say, then stick with “What a sweet baby!,” drop off a meal, and leave feeling like the hero the new family thinks you are.

4.  It’s all about family.

During times of great change, such as weddings, births, and funerals, it seems that family members either become their best selves or their worst selves.  Birth is a joyous crisis of sorts, a happy crucible through which families are permanently changed, and not every individual has the strength to endure this change gracefully.  So, people, do the best you can.  Resolve to be your best self and show up to be the best you can be to the people who most need it.  And, should someone fall short of your expectations, endeavor to forgive.  This is a tough time for everyone, but, as anyone can say, it won’t always be this tough.  There’s plenty of time to absorb these changes and settle into a new normal that’s so much sweeter for the new little person in it. 

(And if you really can’t forgive, feel free to comment anonymously here with your rants for us to enjoy.  Win-win!).

Know This:

Friends, you're more than welcome to come to our Halloween party, but you'd better be prepared to work for your treats.

Sweeping the doormat = One pumpkin muffin or one juice box/string cheese combo.

Vacuuming the rug = Two funsize Crunch bars or half a bagel with pumpkin pie cream cheese.

Now get to work.

The New Hybrids

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we're all about hybrid technology.  And so, in the spirit of all things green, crunchy, and Northwesty, I give you these latest, heretofore unseen hybrids:

Behold!  The Liamoctopus!

Tentacular Spectacular!

And gaze upon the Jeliviafish!

Given her constant desire to be nakey, it's no surprise that she's a moon jelly.

If we could exploit the vast energy potential of these two hybrids we could solve the energy crisis entirely.  Scientists will continue their study of these two powerhouses as soon as naptime and snacktime are over.

Convergence of Greatness

I love Jason Reid (who does not love me back, but that's probably because of what I did to the roof of his car).

I love Blue Scholars (who do not love me back, but that's just because they haven't met me yet).

I used to love the Sonics (who do not love me back, but that's because they're in Oklahoma).  It's a little-known fact about me that I once was unwholesomely obsessed with the 1996-1997 Seattle SuperSonics, to the extent that I 1) saw my grades drop that year during basketball season and, 2) insanely attended the midnight homecoming of the team after they won the Pacific Division title with a long-time boyfriend I had broken up with over the phone only hours earlier.  That's right.  That level of discomfort was worth it to get a ride to Boeing Field to see my Sonics come home.  I had to quit watching basketball cold-turkey at the end of that season so that I could have my life back.  I've never returned to basketball fanaticism, and I'm grateful for that.

So, here's what's making me happy this sunny autumn morning:  A convergence of Jason Reid, the Blue Scholars, and the Sonics.  Enjoy!

End of Summer

Hi there, people!  Tomorrow is September - no joke! - which means, meteorological calendars aside, I am declaring an end to summer and the beginning of autumn.  I love the fall.  As a longtime student and sometime teacher, fall has always meant new beginnings and fresh starts to me.  SLB and I got married in early September for this very reason.  September is a breath of fresh air and a chance to start anew.  It makes me think of newly sharpened pencils and possibilities.  In this calendrical and inspirational vein, I'll be starting some new writing projects on and off of this blog soon.  Summer's over, and it's time to hunker down and do something good, dammit.  But, until midnight when I become all virtuous and productive, let's linger over fine summer memories, shall we?

Like that time I took Livy to the Ballard water park, where she proved that a fleece Viking hat is, in fact, all-weather gear.

Pillaging knows no season.

Or that time I rode a mechanical bull in Las Vegas.

In hindsight, the blouson peasant top wasn't my most flattering bull-riding option.  Learn from my example, people.

Or that time I made forty-freaking-eight cupcakes, along with forty-freaking-eight cupcake toppers for Livy's 2nd birthday party.

I'm crafty.  I'm just your type.

Because I have an embarrassing tendency to do dumb things like this in the presence of a camera...

... let's let this sweet picture of Liv and her good friend Margaret stand in for the touching one of Liv and me that never manifested.

Or that time we went to the Oregon coast to play and to Sauvie Island to meet some new friends.

Livy LOVED the beach...

...

...

... until she didn't.

Handsome Baby Jake may be Sauvie Island's newest resident...

... but Livy preferred the goats.

Or the time we saw my boyfriend Steve play at the Snoqualmie Casino.

Flawlessly silver.  Flawlessly foxy.

Or that time I read 9 horny vampire novels in 6 weeks?

So far #9 was the best.

Or that time that Toddlers & Tiaras started making sense.

Bathing, basking belly.

As you can see, it's been a fantastic summer for frolicking and fun.  But my pencils are sharp, the tags are freshly off of my school clothes, and I've got a Trapper Keeper full of fresh college-ruled paper.  Summer's been great, but fall is here, and that's time to shine.

Hippity Hoppity Hippie

Today, in honor of a holiday I find creepier than Halloween, Livy and I joined our friends Sandy, Mike, Gavyn, Katie, Liam, and Ian at the Woodland Park Zoo for some egg huntin' fun.  It wasn't as fun as Buck Hunter, but it was a lot more fun than Rick Hunter, so I call it a success!  Plus how can you go wrong with a day filled with springtime sunshine, goofy toddlers, and good friends at a zoo picnic?

Because I couldn't be bothered to get Livy an Easter dress and instead delegated the responsibility to Bubby, who is an actual Catholic and former altar boy, she went to today's festivities as a hippie clown.  And because we live in Seattle, I spotted 3 other people in tie-dye as soon as we entered the zoo gates.  OF COURSE I DID.

I sure hope these plastic eggs are local and from organically fed cage free heirloom plastic chickens...

She had a good time finding eggs, but maybe it was because of the outfit, she had just as much fun putting them in other kids' baskets as she did in her own bag.

... to each according to his need, and you need another empty plastic egg!

But the best part of the day by far was eating and playing on the grass with her homeboys Gavyn and Liam.  Those three are like adorable and poorly coordinated peas in a pod.

Liam in hat, Gavyn with ball, and Livy.

So, until tomorrow when we hit the south end for a grandparental explosion and a froofy cupcake dress, happy Easter! 

Love SLB,

Easter posies, m'dear?

Livy,

Upside down sunglasses = Geordi La Forge!



And me, Bruce Wayne.

My secret is safe with you, yes?

Ironic, in an Alanis Morisette Kind of Way

So, I was just introduced to this video after mailing all of my maternity clothes to Carolina in Alabama.



Um, Carolina?  I'm going to need those clothes back, and if anyone knows where I can find some black market Clomid I'd really apprecite that information.

Buddies!

As we've been slowly shifting the chaos of our new home into order and comfort we've been escaping the pressure of the mess by spending time with our buddies.  Last week we had a big adventure at the Pacific Science Center with some friends from our newborn PEPS group.  We met up with Sandy and Gavyn (Hayndy and Gammin) and Katie and Liam (Tatie and Umum), our old buddies (BUDDIES!) from when the kids were about 2 months old. 

Halloween 2009: Gavyn is the cranky cow, Liam the wise bear, and Livy the chunky one-footed headless monkey (along with Willa the grouchy ladybug and Clara the gleeful pumpkin).

Liam and Livy yuk it up.

Livy and Gavyn holding baby hands.

It's been wonderful watching our kids grow up together and watching each other grow up with our kids.  It's almost impossible to believe that they were once little lumps of babyness now that they're all full-fledged toddlers.  When I first had Livy I'd inwardly roll my eyes when more experienced mothers talked wistfully about their children's infancy being gone in a flash.  Now I'm on the other side of that equation and, sigh, where did our babies go?

Apparently they've gone to the big water table at the Science Center,

Livy was soaked.  Gavyn was EXTRA soaked.  Liam miraculously ended the day dry.

off to control the water-squirty thingie with the serious intensity it deserves and requires,

With great power comes great responsibility.

and into a big, fake helicopter to push buttons with even more focus and intensity.

Pilot Liam and copilot Livy readying their craft for takeoff.  Phantom Mama playing paparazzo.

3 heads are clearly better than 1: Gavyn joins the flight crew and Phantom Sandy joins the photo corps.

Serious business.

They're such good lifelong friends that even this crime of passion was eventually forgiven.  Remember, you always hurt [most] the ones you love [most].

Only one child was harmed in the making of this film.

Katie later told me that Liam woke up during the night after this accident crying "Neenee!  Vivy!  Owie!," but that didn't stop him from loving us again this week when we 6 met up at the zoo for more good times.  Because that's how it is with friends who've become family - you can hurt each other, then laugh together, and sometimes fly helicopters together and love each other through it all.

Because Only Old-timey Villains Wax Their Moustachios

Today while pillaging the library Livy turned a corner and found this book on display for Women's History [Ghettoization] Month.

Even as an infant she had a unibrow?  Um.  O.K.

To celebrate her excellent taste in literature and art we checked out the book, the first I've ever borrowed on her behalf.  And to let you all share in our festivities I give you this, one of the best Halloween/Day of the Dead costumes I've ever created.

It's a natural look for me.

That's my friend Trixie Lane of Seattle Retro Photography, who would have taken my maternity pictures had I had any maternity pictures taken.  She's awesome, and no, kittens, she's not in costume.  She's just that fabulous every dang day.  You're right to be dazzled by her brilliance.

So viva Trixie!  Viva Livy!  Viva Frida!  What a colorless and bland world we'd live in without having been brightened by three such awesome women.

Tidbits and Whatnots

I haven't posted in over a week, which is dangerous when one has such a devoted fan base of obsessive parents, in-laws, and grandparents as I have.  But Livy, SLB, and I have been sick - REAL SICK - all over again, and I haven't wanted to take pictures or observe my own life, let alone formulate coherent blog posts about any of it.

So, here.  This is what you get.

1.  I have a cousin named Candice (known better as Kansas, Gorkus, Candy, and Candybaby).  She is awesome and can kill you with one shot from a hundred paces, no shit.  She's in the Navy and just got back from overseas where she fixed aircraft and did not have to put her sharpshooting skills to use, thank goodness.  She is as stubborn and hard-hearted as I am, and our family has speculated about the potential outcome of a fistfight between the two of us for decades.  Now that she can do a million pushups in a minute or whatever the military requires and I'm a squishy mom speculation has dwindled to... well... this blog post.

Livy is convinced that Candy is a celebrity because she's in 3 of the pictures on our fridge.  That means a lot when your exposure to the world generally consists of trips to the grocery store and reading a book about a mermaid parade 7 times a day.

2.  We are bad parents.

It's my kid in a box!  (Anyone wanting to make a joke about her birth will have to remember that I had a C-section).

3.  The Deschutes Brewery in Portland has both delicious beer and crafty beer bottle holiday lights.  There are tiny holes drilled in the back of the bottles to accommodate the twinkle lights that are strung behind the whole row.  If I ever get a fancy glass-bottle-hole-drilling machine I might make some of these.  But most likely I'll just post them here.

Perfect for a man cave.  O.K., the coast is clear; you can make your vagina joke now.

4.  With all due respect to The Pipettes, The Morah and I are the prettiest girls you've ever met.

We wear interesting jackets like the future candidates wives we are fast becoming.

5.  One of the best things about sharing a camera with SLB are the secret gems he leaves me on our memory card.  Viking dog agrees.

Jag håller med.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have more expectorating to do.

So This Is the New Year

Oh, hell, you all knew I was going to quote this song, didn't you?  Yeah, act surprised.  I'll consider it a late Christmas gift.

The funny thing is that I actually do feel somewhat different.  I'm approaching 2011 with a different goal than I usually do.  I've written before how my resolution lists are generally multi-page affairs with cross-referenced headings and numerous sub-headings and -goals, but not this year.  I've simplified it to one word and one action.  The word for this year is Energy, since I feel like my attention and vitality were sucked dry last year by family traumas and poor SAHM life management skills (Pajamas 'til 11?  Why the hell not?!  And, hey, who needs to go outside anyway when we have books inside?).  So this year, as of yesterday actually, I'm attempting to pay attention to where my, um, attention and time go rather than ruminating on sadness and miring myself in the couch cushions.  So far, so good.  And the action to accompany this single-word intention into the new year is to go to the gym every weekday morning before SLB gets up and leaves for work, barring only my sickness or his travel.   This will aid in approaching my life with vigor (Why do I always want to pronounce that loudly and with a thick New England accent - VIGAH! - like an enthusiastic Katharine Hepburn or Kennedy?) because 1) duh, it's exercise, 2) I can already be up, fed, and dressed by the time Livy gets up, and 3) it'll force me to go to bed early.  Win-win-win!

VIGAH!

VIGAH!

Also, since this is a time for resolutions and my lovely friend Carolina, she of the fabulous Kittens and Grits, namechecked me heartily in a new post on her life list, I'll make up for lost time and update you on my life list (part 1, part 2).

Things I've done:
17. Go out for a lovely meal with excellent food and spectacular service BY MYSELF.
I took myself out to Steelhead Diner one day for lunch while my mom took care of Livy.  It was delightful and decadent for about 10 minutes, after which time I got lonely and wanted some company to talk to about my delicious meal.  I do love being alone and take pleasure in my own company, but I love talking to other people about food even more.  Solo movies, plays, and travel are all cool - but eating alone just isn't my bag, apparently.

20. Fit back into my wedding rings.

There's more than one way to skin a cat, so instead of going on a forced march of punitive dieting I had a jeweler enlarge my rings by half a size.  I even picked them up on my way to Steelhead Diner.  Victory!

24. Attend one of Christine Kane’s retreats.

I've compromised on this for now and am taking her Uplevel Your Life course at home.  It starts in earnest on Monday, and I'm so excited!  What a better time to get clear and conscious about your life than at the New Year, eh?

40. Learn how to stand up for myself without resorting immediately to nuclear options.

This is clearly ongoing, but 2010 has been a banner year for setting logical boundaries and communicating calmly and clearly.

48. Vacation in the San Juans with Livy and SLB
49. Take Livy and SLB whale watching
Done and done, friends.

58. Make this silly little house feel like a silly little home.
This, too, is ongoing, but is going well.  I've decluttered like a mutha this year, and we even decorated for Halloween AND Christmas.  Also, we've hung more than 3 pictures on our walls after 5 years of living here. It's almost like we live here or something.

65. Invest in good food, good bras, and good shoes.
Yes, yes, and yes.

84. Come to a decision on the tattoo issue.
The answer is "no."  What appeals to me now is hardly likely to appeal to me in 10 years, just as the tattoo I wanted 10 years ago would seem trite and childish now.  Unless I get really drunk and get John Hancock's signature inked above my C-section scar, I shall die untatted.

It suits me, no?

85. Drink more champagne.

It's now my standard aperitif when we go out to a nice meal.

92. Watch AFI’s 100 best films
Working on it (And who are you mofos who like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?  Top 100?  Seriously?  Likewise, Network.  Faye Dunaway's nipples do not a good movie make.  Chinatown (Faye Dunaway's nipples and all) and Annie Hall are two new favorites, though.)

Oh for the love.  A temporally incongruous musical interlude will never convince me that this useless scene is charming.

100. Love this little family, and tell them I love them every, every, every day
Well, yeah.  Of course.

AND I got rid of the secret item on the list that I wouldn't tell you about.  I'm still not telling, either.

So, thanks to Carolina for helping me remember my list!  I think I'll print it out and put it in my planner to remind me of my awesome goals.  

So, what's on your lists, friends?  And what did you do this year to fulfill it?