Shopping List

After careful observation, Nicole concluded that I buy nothing unless it's on my shopping list. This prompted her to make her own, which we will take to the store with us on our next trip out. Assuming I purchase all of the items on her list, I can't understand why her list isn't longer ... She'll learn, won't she?

PS: It's supposed to say "Orange Juice"; next item "Pants." She doesn't actually want orange pants.

Snowman in Reverse

You are viewing the work of a vandal. These are not pictures of an innocent angel building a snowman with the pictures in the wrong order. These pictures are proof that even the most kind among us are capable of destroying another's work, hope and pride.

I hope that I will not be present to witness the face of the child who originally built this snowman when he exits his door and sees that his snowman has been cruelly crushed to the ground.

I think that Nicole has been playing with boys too much. Or maybe it's one of those psychological problems that has developed. You know, since she can't convince her parents to help her build a snowman, she'll just smash all the ones that she finds. At least she didn't have to venture into someone else's yard. And one of her friends joined in to finish the demolition job. Like they say, kids will be kids.

Remind You of Anyone?

Grant's snow-time fared less favorably than Sister's. It all started well, I assure you. But take a baby with an oversize coat, bulky snow pants and no gloves and you're bound to end in disaster. Follow our one hour time line adventure outside through Grant's eyes. Even you'll be crying by the end!

:10 From the picture below, you can see that Grant is quite content. The tip off? His tongue is sticking out. This is always a good sign. Note that he wasn't yet outfitted in his snowsuit. That's next.

:20 If you've seen A Christmas Story, then you're familiar with Randy whose mother dresses him in similar fashion to walk to school. His famous last words? "I can't move my arms!" (Followed by intense weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth.) Since Grant can't talk, he resorted to the pity cry. Translation: "Hold me!" After several failed attempts to move, Grant tried to rip his clothes off. Had I given him more time, he probably would have succeeded. Notice the coat is half-way unzipped. That's not my doing.

:45 Deciding that his efforts to relocate the family indoors were being ignored at best, Grant resorted to the "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!" method. And what do you know? Snow doesn't taste half bad after all.

:60 We all gave up. Grant's intermittent protests had evolved into one continuous cry. Heck, by this time even Nicole was fussing.

:65 Both snow babies fell asleep in dry clothes and warm blankets.

Trailblazer

Nicole adventurously braved the snow slopes marking today as her first sledding experience ever. She and Kyle began by taking turns with his sled. I didn't keep count, but it would be honest to say the final tally ended in Nicole's favor.

Even though the hill was steep and bumpy, Nicole could be heard yelling, "Yahoo!" all the way down and turning around with a smile when she reached the bottom.

She quickly learned that the major downside to sledding is trekking up the hill with the sled for another run. Work hard; play hard. That's the deal.

Calendar Girl

For Nicole, only two types of days exist: ordinary days and "Grandma Days."

This morning when Nicole woke up, she took a sip of juice and asked, "Mom, is today Sunday or is it Grandma Day?"

"It's Sunday, sweetheart."

"When will it be Grandma Day?"

Not soon enough. Nicole would love to have Grandma Day everyday!

Improvisation

On Clint's first day working in the state OB clinic, his attending physician was surprised to learn that Clint didn't speak Spanish. "What? Are you kidding me?!"

In an attempt to redeem himself, Clint sputtered out, "Well, I do speak Portuguese."

It worked. "Close enough," the doctor replied.

"But wait," Clint interrupted, "I really don't speak Spanish."

This no-nonsense obstetrician had no doubt about Clint's capabilities. He firmly stated, "You'll learn. Now get in there!"

And so it was that this little bird was pushed off the tree branch and forced to fly. And Papa Bird was right: the baby soared.

Oops!

Among all of the stories that have been recounted within our walls this year, this one sticks out above all others as the funniest. Here we go.

Clint and his attending entered the exam room to interview a new patient. She described her chief complaints, which prompted the attending to request a physical exam. He handed her a gown and asked her to undress all the way down to her undergarments. They would return when she was ready.

As scheduled, Clint and the attending reentered the room to find the patient lying on the table in her gown. She must have been nervous as she thought about what she had to say before the exam could be administered. She mustered the courage and blurted out, "I didn't know that I would get examined today, so I didn't wear any underwear."

Clint, the obvious newbie, couldn't believe his ears. No underwear? He exerted all efforts to remain composed.

The stoic attending kept a Poker face, gave a small "hmm" and answered, "Well, that's OK. We can still do the exam."

I recently heard about a poll that asked if women wore lace or cotton underwear to the physician's office. However, I don't think "no underwear at all" was one of the options. Oops.

"I'm a Loser, Baby" -- You Know the Song

While watching a gymnastics meet tonight, Nicole saw a gymnast perform an amazing floor routine, only to fall to her knees just before the song ended. It was definitely a disappointing ending, to which Nicole proclaimed, "She's a loser."

I don't think she intended the derogatory connotation that we've come to associate with the term. Rather, I think she meant, "She could not possibly be the winner now."

Either way, Nicole was right. And funny.

He that is without Sin, Let Him First Cast a Stone

The biblical account concludes with the accusers "being convicted of their own conscience" and dropping the allegations against the woman.

This time-age tale teaches one of the most valuable lessons I've learned in my adult life: love people regardless of their faults. By love, I don't mean tolerate or merely accept. I mean include them in your lives; visit with them; share your joys and sorrows with them. Truly love them.

When you come to know people better, you begin to notice their shortcomings. One wise man once said, “We all have our weaknesses and failings. Sometimes the husband sees a failing in his wife, and he upbraids her with it. Sometimes the wife feels that her husband has not done just the right thing, and she upbraids him. What good does it do? Is not forgiveness better? Is not charity better? Is not love better? Isn’t it better not to speak of faults, not to magnify weaknesses by iterating and reiterating them? Isn’t that better? and will not the union that has been cemented between you ... be more secure when you forget to mention weaknesses and faults one of another? Is it not better to drop them and say nothing about them—bury them and speak only of the good that you know and feel, one for another, and thus bury each other’s faults and not magnify them; isn’t that better?”

Although this speaks of the relationship between a husband and wife, the applications to other relationships in our lives are infinite. The overriding message that lies within this quote is that unity is formed by overlooking the inevitable faults of others. To accomplish this, an element of forgiveness may be required.

At the brass roots level, forgiveness is ultimately a selfish act. After all, who benefits more than the person who is relieved of the burden of bitterness toward another person? Certainly it is not the offender. It is the offended.

And thus we are charged to love our enemies, forgive others 70 times 70 and to return good deeds for evil acts.

May we never cast a stone.

He's Out of Control!

Grant's affinity for throwing items has reached a new level.

Tonight, while visiting at a neighbor's place, Grant found his way to the lavatory. (It's not hard to do since all of our apartments have identical layouts.) Once in the door, he headed straight for the most disgusting architectural piece of the room: the toilet. He lifted its lid and tossed in ... his sippy cup full of milk. Yuck!

Of course Grant found it funny and was proud that he made the shot. Boys, boys, boys.

Naughty Baby

Though the reason be unknown, Grant started crying at 2:00 am last night. Clint and I opened our eyes and the first thought that entered our minds was, "You've got to be kidding!"

Since the day Grant left the hospital, he and Nicole have shared a room. And throughout his 385 days at home, no matter how loud or long he cried, he has never awakened Nicole ... until last night.

About ten minutes into Grant's crying spell, Clint and I thought we heard Nicole moan. Then we thought, "Oh joy! Now we'll have two kids up in the middle of the night."

I whispered to Clint that when I was younger, my dad used to yell from his bed, "Go to sleep!" And we did.

At that moment, we heard Nicole shout, "Go to sleep!" (Grant carried on.)

One minute later she repeated more emphatically, "Go to sleep, Grant!"

Then he did. And so did she. Catastrophe averted. (Whew!)

Looks like Nicole and Papa have more in common than previously thought.

Sally, the Pink-Eared Poodle

Nicole has named many of her stuffed animals. Past names have included Hopo, Hutu and SeaBoo. Only Sally has had the fortune of retaining her original name.

Sally has become quite favored, I've noticed. Sally receives VIP treatment in the car by riding on Nicole's lap and sharing her seat belt. (The other animals are strapped by their lonesomes in their own seat belt.) Sally accompanies Nicole to every party, every store, and most especially, to Grandma's house. Sally is kept warm at night because she's tucked into the covers with Nicole.

With all of the traveling that Sally does, she has earned herself a bath.

"No, Mom!"

"Why not, Nicole?"

"Mom, she can't have a bath ... Sally's afraid of the water!"

I'm sorry. I had no idea. We might have to resort to a midnight bathe, like they do with newborns at the hospital. After all, we can't have a dirty puppy around the house!

Boy = Destruction

Boys are sweet. Check.

Boys are not moody. Check.

Boys are cuddly. Check.

Boys are destructive. Check. Check.

I do declare that Grant's purpose in life is to take apart, throw or otherwise alter the state of any object that crosses his way. When given a foam puzzle, he is busied until he pushes all of the pieces through the back side and then chews on them. When playing in the bath, he immediately tosses every toy onto the floor (and follows up with a screech to play again). If he happens upon Sister's crayons, he eats them. Deck of cards? Folds them. Tower of blocks? Knocks them down -- every LAST block.

At this rate, he'll find a career in building demolition. And to think, we had supposed he might choose medicine.

Things Babies Do

Babies have no sense of propriety.

They will smother their entire faces in a bar of chocolate -- and love it.

They have even been known to eat toilet paper -- and love that, too.

Think it strange, or even repulsive, but it's still cute because it's a baby -- and he's happy.

Joke of the Day

Around our house, we delight in reading the trivia questions off the string cheese wrappers.

I read to Clint, "Why do cats bathe themselves immediately after eating?"

Clint's answer, "Because they're gross."

Actual answer, "So that predators do not come after them."

Close enough.

Me Angry, Need Food

I don't think I ate much yesterday, which would explain the sense of famine in the pit of my stomach by 7:00 pm. As I finally had a moment to myself, I sat at the dining table and began to eat a most delicious serving of pasta carbonara.

Nicole plopped herself beside me and before I could swallow my first bite asked, "Mom, when you're done eating, do you want to play I Spy?"

My reply: "Nicole, please let me eat and then we'll talk about it."

Nicole's most oft repeated question followed, "'Cause why, Mom?"

Losing patience and getting hungrier by the second, I explained, "Because if I don't eat right now then I'll be ornery."

Nicole stretched her hands up over her head and bent her wrists down so that she had the appearance of a monster and said with a deep, gargled voice, "You'll say, 'Ooh, I'm the mom and I'm mad!"

I laughed with her and forgot about this episode until later last night when we were watching a family movie entitled Yours, Mine and Ours. You can derive from the title that this movie involved a blending of two families. What you don't know is that the combined total number of children reached 18, none of whom supported the new marriage. They resolved themselves to break up the marriage by breaking the rules. At one point, the usually calm father had reached the end of his patience and yelled, "That's it! I'm angry!"

To which Nicole had a simple solution, "That Dad should eat!"

Trapped!

My keyboard broke. But not in any ordinary way. I lost function of two important keys (see center of keyboard):

asdf blank blank jkl;

Frusration comes to mind as I sit at my computer. I cannot possibly type sans two letters! It's awful to feel so trapped and write a post from only 24 letters out of a -- z.

Nightmares

A few mornings back, Nicole entered our room at 4:00 am and whispered, "Mom, I had a bad night dream!"

Apparently a bad night dream differs from a nightmare as such: a bad night dream begins well and ends bad; whereas a nightmare is just scary any which way you view it.

Case in point, I asked Nicole to describe her dream to me (don't ask why -- I should have just told her to go back to bed at that hour!). I thought to myself, "Look what we've done! We've let her watch Spiderman; Incredibles; Monsters, Inc.; Pirates of the Caribbean; and many more films with horrifying scenes." But alas, to my pleasure, here is what she recounted.

"Lucifer (the cat from Cinderella, not Satan) was tickling me and then he bit me!"

Now, from someone like me who has little use for cats, I suppose that would be scary. But Nicole loves all animals -- even cats! Maybe that's precisely what was so scary: she couldn't fathom how something she loved could treat her so meanly.

Bad, Lucifer!

Feels Like Tuesday

In our household, it seems that the worst of the worse occurs on Tuesday. So whenever I have a bad day, no matter which day of the week it happens to be, I exclaim, "Feels like Tuesday!"

Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I say each semester will be my last one teaching. However, I have yet to actually resign. The problem? The money.

But the bigger problem is leaving the kids. Think about it: What could be worse than abandoning your only offspring for a part-time job?

I'll tell you. Thursday last, before we left home, Nicole looked at me and begged, "Mom, 'cause why you have to go to work? I want you to stay home with us."

It brought tears to my eyes and I thought to myself, "Feels like Tuesday."

My Valentine

Do you believe in soul mates? I do. At least I believe that I have a soul mate -- and I found him!

Looking back, Clint and I both shake our heads and can offer no logical explanation as to how we ended up together. But here's what I know: our unusual love story is nothing short of a modern-day miracle.

Throughout the many relocations of my parents, isn't it amazing that they ended up one block away from my future spouse? In retrospect, any What If? question can only be answered with tragedy. Just think ...

"What if my parents had stayed in [insert city]?"
Clint and I would have never met.

"What if I hadn't run into Clint just weeks before he left on his mission?"
I would have never sent him a letter with a box full of cookies.

"What if either one of us were dreadful correspondents?"
We wouldn't have grown closer together through our weekly letters over the span of two years.

"What if it wasn't love at first sight when Clint stepped off his plane?"
We wouldn't have commuted 1 1/2 hours every weekend to spend time together.

"What if we had been scared to get married?"
We would have missed out on the best years of our lives ... with each other.

Ultimately, a series of seemingly insignificant events led us to each other -- right where we belong.

Fairly Odd Parents

"Mom, I wish I had fairy god parents," Nicole said dreamily one day. "Then I could wish for whatever I wanted."

Tonight, while getting dressed for bed, Nicole cast her eyes about her room and said, "I wish I had a cooler bedroom, Mom."

Granted, she has to share with a sibling, who is also a boy (and happens to be only a year old), but I think their room is quite charming. Curious, I asked her exactly what she had in mind. I should have known better. She rattled off an expensive and unrealistic list:

1. TV
2. Computer
3. Crayons and coloring books
4. Dolls
5. Make-up ("So I can put lipstick on whenever I want.")

At the end of her list, she paused before adding, "I wish my room could be just like Quincy's. It's the coolest ever, Mom."

Since her fairy god parents won't be magically remodeling her bedroom anytime soon, she's lucky to be able to share Quincy's room at Grandma and Papa's in the meantime (or perhaps indefinitely).

Bibbity! Bobbity! Boo!

Muscle Man

For many weeks, Grant's been crawling to furniture or walls to stand himself up. Not long ago, my mom witnessed Grant stand in the middle of the room using only his legs. I, however, was not so fortunate. I only saw it for the first time last night.

His method is laughable, but his strength is amazing. He sits on his left foot with the leg bent underneath him while the right leg is positioned at a 90-degree angle. Then he pushes down on his right leg (I suppose he'll be right-handed!) until it's completely straight and then puts the left leg in place next to it. I've not seen another baby do this. I think we'll send him to the circus!

Vocabulary, Part 3: Speechless

Instead of stumbling all over the house with a sippy cup full of milk, Grant now hustles about with words flying from his mouth. Except they're not really words.

It's more of a babble, really. It sounds like a gurgled, "Uuuuhhhhh." Grandma says it sounds like a bumble bee. I think it resembles a goat or a lamb.

No matter the animal you choose, the results are the same: we have a constant buzz roaming our house that increases in volume at times of danger or suspicion.

For example, if Grant happens upon an object that he judges as off-limits, he brings it to the bench for approval. He'll drop it in our laps and pretend to reach for it several times, all the while sputtering out a hundred words a minute. If no reprimand is issued, then the object becomes fair game and the baby retrieves what is rightfully his and resumes play ... still talking.

Vocabulary, Part 2: The British American

Most likely inherited from such films as, "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" and "The Secret Garden," Nicole has adopted some new words.

For example, the armoire that lies in her bedroom has been renamed "the wardrobe." At Grandma's house, when Nicole desires to play outside, she has been known to ask, "Can I play in the garden?" (She's referring to the yard.)

Just wait until the new Harry Potter comes out. She'll be taken for a pure Brit with phrase like, "Brilliant!" "I've got loads of..."

Fortunately she hasn't picked up on the accent!

Vocabulary, Part 1: Words to Emphasize

One evening the children made a dreadful mess of the bathroom while playing in the tub. When I saw the water all over the place, I reprimanded the elder child, "Nicole, this floor is soaking wet! Don't splash water out of the tub anymore."

Ever since, Nicole has found many uses for this new term, all of which exaggerate her case:

"I'm soaking sick of that noise!"
"I'm soaking mad at you!"
"I've soaking had it!"

I suppose it's better than other words she could substitute in those sentences.

America is My Country; Paris is My Hometown

Have you ever tried a new food in a magical place, such as Paris, and later attempted to recreate the dish in a less enchanting environment, such as your kitchen?

That would be me. I vividly recall the most delicious fromage fondue in France, made from scratch with a combination of mild cheeses. Ever since, I've craved the succulent Gruyere, but resisted the impulse to pay the outrageous import price -- until this week. And sad to report, it's not as I remember it.

But what is better than I remember it are my memories of France. It's not just the cuisine, but the whole experience. The scenery, the art, the architecture, the people, the language, the history, the heritage, the pride.

I frequently dream of returning to France and I always waltz down the same Parisian cobblestone street lined with old, yet charming shops. I hear the natives whisper their lingo and I long to return.

In French, you can't say that you miss a place, but you could formulate a sentiment that conveys, "A part of France is missing from my soul." La France me manque extremement.

I think that no matter how many times I visit France, my craving will never be satisfied. Vive la France!

Accomplishments x Average # of Years to Complete Them = Age

For the first time in my life, someone has overestimated my age. Emphasize over. It's common for students to whisper amongst themselves and postulize how young I am. It's even happened, on occasion, that one will summon the courage to ask me my age.

Today one of my older students asked, "Are you 39?"

As her speech teacher, I regret to admit that I was nearly speechless! All I could muster was a breathless, "Excuse me?"

She explained, "Well, I tallied the number of years that it would take to do all of the things that you've mentioned during class, and I don't understand how you could be younger than 39."

By this time, multiple students were interested and we were keeping a student waiting to deliver his speech. I decided to reply with the short answer, "I do things fast."

Faster than 39 years for sure.