The kids in beautiful, new handmade sweaters. Perfect timing! It feels like -4 degrees today with the wind chill. Way too cold!
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Around Here
For a long time, I've been wanting to write about the neighborhood we live in, and have always held off. Right now though, I'm feeling completely and unfoundedly (is that a word?) annoyed at the people next door.
We live in a fairly nice neighborhood, in a small city, with yards, etc. Like anywhere, there are pros and cons to where we live. One being the parking, we have a shared driveway with our neighbors, that gets a little dicey when there is snow (another being the snow in general!). Most homes on our block and surrounding blocks are duplexes, and many are rentals. This means many times that there is no one overseeing the property, shoveling of snow, etc.
The people who moved in next door are renters, upstairs and down. I think I get overly annoyed with this house in particular, because I see it every time I look out my kitchen window, as this is where our kitchen sink is located.
The people who moved in upstairs this past summer, attached a hoist to the side of the porch to lift furniture up. Fine. Smart idea. However, this took at least three people to discuss all hours of the day and night. Eh, mostly the night. Like after dark and after we put the kids down. And loudly. They upgraded the hoist at least three times, (which I could write the details of, since they had to tell everyone who came over about it, loudly, mostly after nightfall, outside our kitchen window which was open because it was summer). So the hoist is apparently now a permanent fixture. It is bright orange, and large. And for some unknown reason, unrelated to the hoist, there is also a neon green rope hanging from the tree that overhangs our property. It once had a tarp attached, but that has been removed, or perhaps flew away one day during a storm after whipping around for several hours. But the rope remains.
Back to the hoist. They moved in the first week of September, and were still hoisting things up at the beginning of October. This meant that the lawn was littered with random bits of furniture and tarps for four weeks until enough neighbors complained that the remaining items were trucked away. The hoist has also been used for groceries, take-out orders, and garbage.
Today, it is 10 degrees, i
t snowed last night, and they are hoisting. I think this annoys me so much because it has been 40-50 degrees all week, and they choose the coldest day to hoist. As they are hoisting, the tenants downstairs, proceed to shovel, with the shovel they took out of the back of Chris's truck and never returned. It is very identifiable, as it is a large yellow snow shovel that is for big areas and has a distinct handle. It is also one of three and now there are two left. They used it to push snow off of the steps, which is not what it is intended for.
Anyway, I wanted to open the kitchen window and yell, "that's not how you use the snow shovel that doesn't belong to you. And why are you hoisting in an Arctic Vortex?" but I didn't and won't.
I know we're not the easiest neighbors. Chris has trucks and plows (and snow shovels). Our kids scream and cry. I've been know to scream and cry. We have miscellaneous items strewn around our backyard for no apparent reason, other than Chris or his guys leave them there (trust me, I have tantrums about them). But I wish the hoist would go. And the neon green rope.
We live in a fairly nice neighborhood, in a small city, with yards, etc. Like anywhere, there are pros and cons to where we live. One being the parking, we have a shared driveway with our neighbors, that gets a little dicey when there is snow (another being the snow in general!). Most homes on our block and surrounding blocks are duplexes, and many are rentals. This means many times that there is no one overseeing the property, shoveling of snow, etc.
The people who moved in next door are renters, upstairs and down. I think I get overly annoyed with this house in particular, because I see it every time I look out my kitchen window, as this is where our kitchen sink is located.
The people who moved in upstairs this past summer, attached a hoist to the side of the porch to lift furniture up. Fine. Smart idea. However, this took at least three people to discuss all hours of the day and night. Eh, mostly the night. Like after dark and after we put the kids down. And loudly. They upgraded the hoist at least three times, (which I could write the details of, since they had to tell everyone who came over about it, loudly, mostly after nightfall, outside our kitchen window which was open because it was summer). So the hoist is apparently now a permanent fixture. It is bright orange, and large. And for some unknown reason, unrelated to the hoist, there is also a neon green rope hanging from the tree that overhangs our property. It once had a tarp attached, but that has been removed, or perhaps flew away one day during a storm after whipping around for several hours. But the rope remains.
Back to the hoist. They moved in the first week of September, and were still hoisting things up at the beginning of October. This meant that the lawn was littered with random bits of furniture and tarps for four weeks until enough neighbors complained that the remaining items were trucked away. The hoist has also been used for groceries, take-out orders, and garbage.
Today, it is 10 degrees, i
 |
| hoist and part of green rope |
Anyway, I wanted to open the kitchen window and yell, "that's not how you use the snow shovel that doesn't belong to you. And why are you hoisting in an Arctic Vortex?" but I didn't and won't.
I know we're not the easiest neighbors. Chris has trucks and plows (and snow shovels). Our kids scream and cry. I've been know to scream and cry. We have miscellaneous items strewn around our backyard for no apparent reason, other than Chris or his guys leave them there (trust me, I have tantrums about them). But I wish the hoist would go. And the neon green rope.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Why Vivian Shouldn't Take Bubble Baths
Usually she doesn't stay still in baths, she tries to swim with us holding onto her for dear life, and she ends up gulping water, and sputtering or choking. I guess a bubble bath is a whole different experience!
Annoying
At dinner last night, Sam was getting as close to Vivian as he could get and making noises at her. At first she was amused and laughing, and then she tried to swat him away and ignore him.
Finally, I intervened as she started to fuss.
"Sam, why don't you try teaching Vivian some words, instead of nonsense and making noises?"
He looked up at me, "mom, I'm trying to teach her how to annoy people."
I had nothing to say to that.
Finally, I intervened as she started to fuss.
"Sam, why don't you try teaching Vivian some words, instead of nonsense and making noises?"
He looked up at me, "mom, I'm trying to teach her how to annoy people."
I had nothing to say to that.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Kiddie Photography
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| Blocks, by Sam. |
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| Vivian Crawls Away, by Sam. |
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| Daddy Finds Vivian, by Sam. |
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| Mommy Lecturing Me, Again. by Sam. |
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| My Ankle, by Vivian. |
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| Vivian Plays, by Sam. |
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| Entertainment Center, by Sam. (Favorite subject matter? I have at least 20 on my camera.) |
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| Selfie with Binky, by Vivian. |
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| Selfie with Binky, by Sam. |
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Grocery Store Trip
I never knew how exhausting having kids could be, just trying to get the simple things done takes twice as long and is never calm. I see people with three or more kids and marvel at their ability to run things smoothly.
Today was rainy and by the afternoon, raining steadily. After work, I got Vivian and then picked Sam up at school and needed to stop for a few groceries on the way home. We get to the store and I really had to pee. I didn't have time after the students left my classroom, without risking being late to get both the kids. So we start with the bathroom, but first I had to get a cart because they no longer house them in the store. I'm holding Vivian and finally locate a dry cart under the shelter and Sam insists on pulling it out. This takes way longer then necessary. We get the cart into the store and park it next to the bathrooms and a put a few things in it so it doesn't get taken. I have to talk Sam out of leaving a note on it with our name (where does he get these things from?). So we go to the bathroom. Now I have to untuck my shirt, undo my belt, and pants with one hand and pee holding Vivian, since there is no where to put her. For some reason Sam decides to crawl on the floor. I can't yank him up because I'm trying to pee. I convince him that it's disgusting. He starts to get up as I am trying to rip a piece of toilet paper off the giant roll that is inconveniently not in a dispenser. The roll immediately flies off of the handicap railing and bounces off Sam who is half up from crawling on the floor. He wails and yells that he was "getting off the floor and why did you throw toilet paper at me?" Obviously someone chooses that moment to enter the bathroom. Then we get to open the stall door to greet the person who now thinks I whip industrial size toilet paper rolls at my three year old. We wash our hands, one at a time, since I am still holding Vivian, and Sam has crawled across the floor.
Now we get to grocery shop. Sam wants to push the cart that Vivian is in (which was still there despite us not leaving our names on it). So he pushes, but I have to steer. People think this is adorable and have to stop and tell us several times, which reinforces in Sam's mind that he needs to push the cart. It takes about three times as long as it should to get the few items we need, plus the obvious discussion we have to have every time Sam spots something that he thinks is delicious, punctuated by Vivian's shrieks.
"No. We have mac n' cheese."
"No, we don't need pomegranate juice for $7.99." (for what appears to be about 12 oz)
"No, we are not getting cherries for $8.99 a pound (really??? How many cherries would I actually get for $9.00?"
"You're right, we haven't had those cookies in a very, very, very long time. And we're still not going to get them."
"Oh yes. I do see that very delicious looking chocolate cake. Yes, for your birthday."
"We don't need two loaves of bread."
"Or the same exact bagels that you didn't eat last time I bought them."
"Or the same exact yogurt that you don't actually like, it just has good pictures on the package."
"We have popcorn at home."
"You had veggie chips for snack, we are not buying more."
"Yes, we can get apples."
We pick up samples of bread slices. Vivian tosses her bread on the floor then shrieks for it. I get her another one. Then Sam is doing the pee-pee dance and we are in the produce section, which is on the exact opposite side of the store from the bathroom. The child who I finally toilet trained. He checks his leg to make sure he hasn't peed. We rush back to the bathroom area and have the same conversation about not labeling our cart with our names because it was there last time, whip Viv out of the cart, and run back into the bathroom. Now I am tugging his pants down with one hand, but we make it on time. Vivian drops her bread and starts to cry. And somehow we're back where we started, in the bathroom with a crying kid. Sam finishes, picks up Vivian's bread and tries to throw it away in the sanitary bin depository. "No!" I yell.
"Why not?"
"Just no- the trash by the sink."
"But..."
We return to the produce section, with the cart that was there again with no names on it. It now appears that we have been in the store (that is thankfully a very small grocery store), for forty-five minutes. We have about 8 things in the cart. We get Vivian another bread sample and this time I rip it in half and put half in my pocket for when she drops it again.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think Vivian pooped."
I close my eyes and think about where the diaper bag is and about going back to the bathroom. I sniff around suspiciously. I decide it's the brussel sprouts and we leave it at that.
We make it to the door of the store, I have remembered none of my reusable bags (there are about ten in car but virtually impossible to get them), so everything is in paper bags, and it is pouring out. Twenty pound Vivian is no longer in the cart having reached her maximum and she is not a quiet kid when she's mad, so I'm holding her, steering the cart that I have negotiated with Sam for, with one hand. I don't even know who or what to put in the car first. Finally we run across the parking lot and I open the hatchback and park the cart and Sam under it, while I load a screaming Vivian into the car. Luckily we are parked over a drain, so Sam is mesmerized by the flowing water and doesn't move.
By the time we get home and I unload the soggy bags (none ripped thank goodness), it is quarter to five. I again get to choose who and what to bring in the house first, second, and third, because this trip involves all of our lunch stuff from the day, the two outfits Vivian has been through, my work stuff, purse, and Sam's school stuff. This gives me a fifteen minute window to put away the groceries and get dinner together before Vivian needs to be picked up or she will scream bloody murder. During which time, obviously, the children have to play directly under my feet. Because it's really lucky that we switched bedrooms around again this weekend so that their playroom can be off the kitchen within eyesight.
How did my mother have three children? And I'll obviously find that half piece of sample bread in my pocket months from now...
Today was rainy and by the afternoon, raining steadily. After work, I got Vivian and then picked Sam up at school and needed to stop for a few groceries on the way home. We get to the store and I really had to pee. I didn't have time after the students left my classroom, without risking being late to get both the kids. So we start with the bathroom, but first I had to get a cart because they no longer house them in the store. I'm holding Vivian and finally locate a dry cart under the shelter and Sam insists on pulling it out. This takes way longer then necessary. We get the cart into the store and park it next to the bathrooms and a put a few things in it so it doesn't get taken. I have to talk Sam out of leaving a note on it with our name (where does he get these things from?). So we go to the bathroom. Now I have to untuck my shirt, undo my belt, and pants with one hand and pee holding Vivian, since there is no where to put her. For some reason Sam decides to crawl on the floor. I can't yank him up because I'm trying to pee. I convince him that it's disgusting. He starts to get up as I am trying to rip a piece of toilet paper off the giant roll that is inconveniently not in a dispenser. The roll immediately flies off of the handicap railing and bounces off Sam who is half up from crawling on the floor. He wails and yells that he was "getting off the floor and why did you throw toilet paper at me?" Obviously someone chooses that moment to enter the bathroom. Then we get to open the stall door to greet the person who now thinks I whip industrial size toilet paper rolls at my three year old. We wash our hands, one at a time, since I am still holding Vivian, and Sam has crawled across the floor.
Now we get to grocery shop. Sam wants to push the cart that Vivian is in (which was still there despite us not leaving our names on it). So he pushes, but I have to steer. People think this is adorable and have to stop and tell us several times, which reinforces in Sam's mind that he needs to push the cart. It takes about three times as long as it should to get the few items we need, plus the obvious discussion we have to have every time Sam spots something that he thinks is delicious, punctuated by Vivian's shrieks.
"No. We have mac n' cheese."
"No, we don't need pomegranate juice for $7.99." (for what appears to be about 12 oz)
"No, we are not getting cherries for $8.99 a pound (really??? How many cherries would I actually get for $9.00?"
"You're right, we haven't had those cookies in a very, very, very long time. And we're still not going to get them."
"Oh yes. I do see that very delicious looking chocolate cake. Yes, for your birthday."
"We don't need two loaves of bread."
"Or the same exact bagels that you didn't eat last time I bought them."
"Or the same exact yogurt that you don't actually like, it just has good pictures on the package."
"We have popcorn at home."
"You had veggie chips for snack, we are not buying more."
"Yes, we can get apples."
We pick up samples of bread slices. Vivian tosses her bread on the floor then shrieks for it. I get her another one. Then Sam is doing the pee-pee dance and we are in the produce section, which is on the exact opposite side of the store from the bathroom. The child who I finally toilet trained. He checks his leg to make sure he hasn't peed. We rush back to the bathroom area and have the same conversation about not labeling our cart with our names because it was there last time, whip Viv out of the cart, and run back into the bathroom. Now I am tugging his pants down with one hand, but we make it on time. Vivian drops her bread and starts to cry. And somehow we're back where we started, in the bathroom with a crying kid. Sam finishes, picks up Vivian's bread and tries to throw it away in the sanitary bin depository. "No!" I yell.
"Why not?"
"Just no- the trash by the sink."
"But..."
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think Vivian pooped."
I close my eyes and think about where the diaper bag is and about going back to the bathroom. I sniff around suspiciously. I decide it's the brussel sprouts and we leave it at that.
We make it to the door of the store, I have remembered none of my reusable bags (there are about ten in car but virtually impossible to get them), so everything is in paper bags, and it is pouring out. Twenty pound Vivian is no longer in the cart having reached her maximum and she is not a quiet kid when she's mad, so I'm holding her, steering the cart that I have negotiated with Sam for, with one hand. I don't even know who or what to put in the car first. Finally we run across the parking lot and I open the hatchback and park the cart and Sam under it, while I load a screaming Vivian into the car. Luckily we are parked over a drain, so Sam is mesmerized by the flowing water and doesn't move.
By the time we get home and I unload the soggy bags (none ripped thank goodness), it is quarter to five. I again get to choose who and what to bring in the house first, second, and third, because this trip involves all of our lunch stuff from the day, the two outfits Vivian has been through, my work stuff, purse, and Sam's school stuff. This gives me a fifteen minute window to put away the groceries and get dinner together before Vivian needs to be picked up or she will scream bloody murder. During which time, obviously, the children have to play directly under my feet. Because it's really lucky that we switched bedrooms around again this weekend so that their playroom can be off the kitchen within eyesight.
How did my mother have three children? And I'll obviously find that half piece of sample bread in my pocket months from now...
From the Nursery
Get the kids down and through the baby monitor I hear, "Bethan." Silence. "Mom." Silence. "Bethan."
I tiptoe in. "Yes, Sam?"
"The heat came on and woke my sister up." Sure enough Vivian is groggily rubbing her eyes looking confused. "I think there's something wrong with it. We should call the plumber."
Monday, January 13, 2014
Christmas Eve Warning
On Christmas Eve, I told Sam that Santa came only when children slept in their own beds the whole night. I explained that Santa didn't want to be discovered putting presents under the tree (Sam had been waking up each night in the wee hours and giving an excuse as to why he couldn't sleep in his bed).
Sam looked at me very seriously and shook his head sadly. "Oh," he said, "then I guess Vivian isn't getting any presents from Santa."
Sam looked at me very seriously and shook his head sadly. "Oh," he said, "then I guess Vivian isn't getting any presents from Santa."
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Sledding
Lots of snow- Chris took the kids sledding while I went to the gym. I met them walking up the street and took a run with them , then rescued Vivi and brought her home.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Abandoned by the Cat
In the last few months, Annie has spent less and less time with us. In the summer she is an outdoor cat and it is not uncommon for her to go missing for days. However, in the colder months, Annie usually spends most of her time inside sleeping. Since Vivian has become mobile, Annie has wanted less to do with us. Instead, she has claimed our downstairs tenants as her new home and, if they're not around, the people across the street.When she comes in for her occasional visit (it was a weekly visit up until Christmas), she eyes the children warily. Vivian inevitably is super excited to see her and will crawl rapidly towards her until Annie is pinned in a corner. Then Vivian will squeal in delight and Annie will stiffen and look for an escape route.
I've spotted her around in the past few weeks, once across the street, and she meowed loudly enough to get my attention and then turned around with her back to me. The other day she was on the downstairs porch waiting outside the tenants' door and would not come with me inside our apartment.
We miss our cat! I'm hoping as the children grow she'll come back to us. Trying to trap her in here seems like a cruel punishment. When the tenants went home for Thanksgiving, we had a trial of Annie coming back. It didn't go well. One of them brought her up, I kept Vivian away, and Annie ate her food and went straight back down the stairs, meowing until someone opened the door and let her in. This cycle continued until they left for the break and she left and stalked across the street, tail high. Maybe when the weather is warm again she'll feel like returning to claim her outside territory and will come back in.
claimed as her own, only to find a baby sleeping in it.
When Sam started to become mobile and discovered Annie.
Clearly she was not thrilled with this development.
Annie and Sam getting into some kind of trouble a few years ago.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Pine Needles and Coffee
Yesterday was another indoor adventure, welcoming the New Year in true little-kids-being-stuck-indoors fashion.
We did get out for brunch, which in itself is an exercise in futility, compounded by the waiter not putting Sam's order in, so having to get the kids to hold it together for an additional thirty minutes. Brunch ended with Sam eating, barefoot (snowboots are too hot for brunch) while Chris walked around the restaurant with Vivian trying to keep the peace, and me trying to retrieve random discarded items and winter gear from under the table without disturbing the patrons (who were alarmingly close) next to us.
Later in the day, Chris went out to get ready for the snowstorm and retrieve my phone that I had left at Target. I was getting laundry from the kitchen when I heard Sam:
"Mom."
"Yes, Sam."
"Viv is drinking coffee and pouring it all over the living room." Usually Sam exaggerates ("it's an emergency! Vivian is about to crawl down the stairs!" and I find her on the other side of the baby gate, approaching it from 6 feet away).
"Okay, thanks Sam."
"Mom."
"Yes, Sam?"
"It smells like Starbucks in here."
"Okay, I'll get the coffee."
"Mom. "
"Yes, Sam?"
"Viv is splashing in the coffee."
Crap. I go to check. Sure enough, Vivian has found a mug of Chris's untouched (luckily cold) coffee, poured it around her, on her, drank some and is indeed, happily splashing in it.
I spend twenty minutes cleaning up coffee from in the toy box, on the toys, under the couch, on the baby, and running in rivers into and under the rug.
I go back to the laundry. Sam is "street sweeping" the pine needles from under the tree that we are slowly taking down. I hear Vivian shriek. I come back in the living room to find her sitting in the middle of a pile of pine needles with a small coating of them on her head. Sam is guiltily looking the other way. Out comes the vacuum cleaner. The baby now smells like a cup of evergreen coffee. The caffeine is also kicking in. She reaches for me and virtually leaps through the air. I nurse her on the couch and she finishes and jumps out of my arms, head first toward the floor. I manage to catch her by one foot, but she already has hit the floor with her head and hands. Sam thinks this is hilarious.
I went to meet my friend for a drink and to shut off my unretrieved/unlocatable phone at Verizon. When I came back, Vivian was asleep and Sam was finishing his stories.
"Mom."
"Yes Sam?"
"It's okay. Don't worry. I checked all around and there are no firecrackers. Vivian is sleeping and I made sure the firecrackers won't wake her up."
"Great. Thanks for checking."
"Firecrackers are loud."
"Yes, they are."
"And smelly."
"Um, no, they're not smelly." I look at Chris, who just shakes his head. He looks like I felt before I went out.
"Mom."
"Yes Sam."
"There are no firecrackers."
"Right, no firecrackers today, there were firecrackers late last night."
"There were?" asks Sam, "Why?"
"For New Year's Eve."
"Daddy took down the Christmas tree and we took it outside."
"Oh good!"
"And I plowed all the pine needles with my new plow."
"Great! They're all cleaned up?"
"Yep. I plowed them all."
"They're under the dining room rug." Chris corrected. "I was giving the baby a bath. She smelled awful. Like coffee."
"Mmm.. and pine needles?" I offer.
"Well, there were pine needles in her diaper and there are pine needles in the tub."
"And there are pine needles under the dining room rug."
Now it is snowing for two days straight and going to be about zero degrees for two days after that. This will be fun.
We did get out for brunch, which in itself is an exercise in futility, compounded by the waiter not putting Sam's order in, so having to get the kids to hold it together for an additional thirty minutes. Brunch ended with Sam eating, barefoot (snowboots are too hot for brunch) while Chris walked around the restaurant with Vivian trying to keep the peace, and me trying to retrieve random discarded items and winter gear from under the table without disturbing the patrons (who were alarmingly close) next to us.
Later in the day, Chris went out to get ready for the snowstorm and retrieve my phone that I had left at Target. I was getting laundry from the kitchen when I heard Sam:
"Mom."
"Yes, Sam."
"Viv is drinking coffee and pouring it all over the living room." Usually Sam exaggerates ("it's an emergency! Vivian is about to crawl down the stairs!" and I find her on the other side of the baby gate, approaching it from 6 feet away).
"Okay, thanks Sam."
"Mom."
"Yes, Sam?"
"It smells like Starbucks in here."
"Okay, I'll get the coffee."
"Mom. "
"Yes, Sam?"
"Viv is splashing in the coffee."
Crap. I go to check. Sure enough, Vivian has found a mug of Chris's untouched (luckily cold) coffee, poured it around her, on her, drank some and is indeed, happily splashing in it.
I spend twenty minutes cleaning up coffee from in the toy box, on the toys, under the couch, on the baby, and running in rivers into and under the rug.
I go back to the laundry. Sam is "street sweeping" the pine needles from under the tree that we are slowly taking down. I hear Vivian shriek. I come back in the living room to find her sitting in the middle of a pile of pine needles with a small coating of them on her head. Sam is guiltily looking the other way. Out comes the vacuum cleaner. The baby now smells like a cup of evergreen coffee. The caffeine is also kicking in. She reaches for me and virtually leaps through the air. I nurse her on the couch and she finishes and jumps out of my arms, head first toward the floor. I manage to catch her by one foot, but she already has hit the floor with her head and hands. Sam thinks this is hilarious.I went to meet my friend for a drink and to shut off my unretrieved/unlocatable phone at Verizon. When I came back, Vivian was asleep and Sam was finishing his stories.
"Mom."
"Yes Sam?"
"It's okay. Don't worry. I checked all around and there are no firecrackers. Vivian is sleeping and I made sure the firecrackers won't wake her up."
"Great. Thanks for checking."
"Firecrackers are loud."
"Yes, they are."
"And smelly."
"Um, no, they're not smelly." I look at Chris, who just shakes his head. He looks like I felt before I went out.
"Mom."
"Yes Sam."
"There are no firecrackers."
"Right, no firecrackers today, there were firecrackers late last night."
"There were?" asks Sam, "Why?"
"For New Year's Eve."
"Daddy took down the Christmas tree and we took it outside."
"Oh good!"
"And I plowed all the pine needles with my new plow."
"Great! They're all cleaned up?"
"Yep. I plowed them all."
"They're under the dining room rug." Chris corrected. "I was giving the baby a bath. She smelled awful. Like coffee."
"Mmm.. and pine needles?" I offer.
"Well, there were pine needles in her diaper and there are pine needles in the tub."
"And there are pine needles under the dining room rug."
Now it is snowing for two days straight and going to be about zero degrees for two days after that. This will be fun.
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