Thanksgiving sillies

We spent Thanksgiving evening at Matt's aunt and uncle's house in Burke, Va. Which is what we usually do, but this year, Matt's dad wasn't there -- he moved to the Philippines about four months ago. Here's some of what he missed!

Matt bought some pilgrim and Thanksgiving-related hats a couple of weeks ago because some friends of his had a "Halloween party" two weekends after Halloween, and Matt wanted to jokingly rub in their faces that this was rather silly. So most of the people at the party wore Thanksgiving-related garb.

He couldn't resist bringing some of the headgear to Thanksgiving. Here are a couple of girls who are willing (or too young to know better, or both) to model it for you!

Our first models are known as 'Lil' Hiawatha' and 'Big Hiawatha.'





















Next down the runway is 'Girl Who Wears Two Hats.'

This child was at first unwilling to sign release forms to be photographed with a Pilgrim, but she finally agreed. Paparazzi can be so relentless!

Last, but certainly not least, wild turkeys!

Lizzy killed all comers at Connect Four, by the way. She is one 6-year-old who can bring the PAIN!!!

where'd all my time go?

My husband, of all people, introduced me to Facebook last Friday, and there's been no looking back. (he's already regretting it.) The blog has taken a hit as a result. It's probably the one thing (well, aside from IMing, I suppose) that makes blogging look like it's too slow at updating me on friends' lives. On Facebook, it's all just too easy. And when I say too easy, I mean TOO EASY.

But Facebook, like other sites of its kind, won't allow people to surf around and check out folks' pages unless the folks say it's okay, and everyone's signed into Facebook and got a page of his/her own. So its usefulness is limited.

So now I've got friends on Facebook who don't visit the blog; friends and family who see the blog, but aren't members of Facebook, so don't see that; and those unfortunate souls who are confronted with both. Let the overlap begin!

In that spirit, here are some photos, which folks on Facebook could see yesterday, taken from this past weekend's church retreat. (disclaimer: Lizzy, Maddie and I were only there for about five hours because Lizzy was puking her guts out for most of Friday night. I do not exaggerate.)









The low point, Facebook-wise, came when Matt was in the basement, on the computer, and I, who had told him I was going to bed, decided after brushing my teeth to check the computer on the midlevel of the house 'one last time.' So he learned of my 'status' through an e-mail automatically sent to him that I was on the computer. We know we're not the first this has happened to, but it does seem distinctly sad when you learn of your spouse's whereabouts and activities, WHILE IN THE SAME HOUSE, through the computer.

Yes, dear. We now ARE those people.

(to my friend Lisa: Yes, this is the adorable outfit you bought Maddie! I LOVE IT. I am sad that, in a month or so, it will likely no longer fit.) :(

mom of the year

I'm sitting at my desk at work. I just received a phone call -- on the cell phone, no less, which I hadn't turned down the ringer on because I rarely receive calls anyway -- from Lizzy's school.
At least they weren't checking her for lice this time around. No -- this time, she's in the office, crying.

Why, you ask? Lizzy loves first grade! What happened?

Well, the parents were invited to some sort of luncheon today. Some special thing. And Lizzy's parents aren't there.

It seems she thought we were coming, despite the 10-minute conversation we had last week about how we were NOT coming. And everyone else has at least one parent there, naturally (according to Lizzy).

"Please come!" she sniffles into the phone. "I want you to come!"
I explain that, even if I left now, I wouldn't be able to make it before the luncheon ended.
"Yes you can!" she sobs urgently. "Just try!"

You have no idea, gentle readers, how hard I worked to carve out time for each and every stunt of this nature that her day care pulled over the years. I NEVER wanted my kid to be "that kid" -- the one looking mournful in a corner whilst the other kiddies proudly pulled their parents around the room at this or that holiday party. I always felt for that kid. To make matters worse, these parties -- which were, at least, scheduled toward the END of the day, not the EXACT MIDDLE -- tended to end earlier than the kids were normally picked up, so all the kids would go home early. Except that kid.

So, right now, as I type, Lizzy is 30 miles away, crying at school because I'm not there for her special occasion.

I could, and perhaps should, take this opportunity to rant about why the schools feel the need to do this. They require plenty of our time -- parent/teacher conferences at times convenient to THEM; early dismissals before holidays that are padded before and behind with days off; teacher workdays; snow days; etc. Whatever "vacation" I receive at work must go toward covering these, plus days that my children are sick. And I can't just plan an actual vacation around times when Lizzy's off of school, because only one of us in my department is allowed to take vaca at any one time. So, Thanksgiving? Christmas? Spring break? Taken, taken, taken.

I know I should be there for her more. And for Maddie. I love my job, but hate that we have to maintain two full-time gigs to have any hope of keeping this ship afloat. Don't you think I would do it differently, if I at all could?

So now I sit here at my desk, feeling like total crap. And, as Matt points out, this will go down in Lizzy's memory banks as a significant time that her parents WERE NOT there for her. She'll be traumatized, and vow not to do this to her children.

It really just doesn't feel fair.

growing girl

Lizzy and I took Maddie to the doc on Monday afternoon for her 4-month-old checkup. Lizzy wanted to come to see 'how loud Maddie will scream' when she got her shots. Sounds a little sick to me, but, okay. (she has a half day of school on Mondays, so it was that, or hang out at the after-care place.)

Maddie's such a trooper. She weighs 15 pounds, 5 oz. now, which is around the 80th percentile for babies her age, and her length (forget how much -- 24 inches and some, maybe?) is around the 60th percentile. Her little thighs are so chunky, even the nurse commented on them. ("A nurse's dream!" since that's where they give the shots.) Maddie's such a little sweetheart, too. She does her screaming thing for about 10 seconds, then quiets right down. Does the same for each shot. But then she's pretty okay afterward. Such a lovely child.

After the shots -- Lizzy said she wouldn't like to see that again, thanks. She's quite desperately afraid of needles, but then again, perhaps every kid is -- the nurse said, "Hm, Madeline M----l. My daughter dated a Matt M----l when she was a teenager." I said, "oh-ho-ho REALLY! What's her name??" I must have looked a little too eager to hear about it, because the nurse asked me a series of questions first to ascertain whether it was likely to be the same Matt M. Yep -- same high school, same grad year. So she told me about how her daughter -- whose name I'm pretty sure my husband has never mentioned -- was doing these days, and what she was up to.
Naturally, as soon as I got home, I quizzed Matt about this. "I never dated her!" he says. "I WISH I had dated her! I had a crush on her in middle school! She was SMOKIN' HOT. -- still is, last I saw her!" Okay, okay. That's enough now, mister.

Lizzy's latest craze is playing Connect 4. There's a guy named Mike (a grown-up) at her before and after care center who plays it with her a lot, so we bought a game for our home, and we play her a lot there. It's a great mix of not mind-numbing (think Candyland, or something similar), and something that, quite honestly, Lizzy wins as often as Matt or I do. We're perhaps not trying SUPER hard, but we're certainly not 'letting' her win, either! She's quite the smart one. The game purports to be for ages 7 and up, and she's just turned 6. What can we say -- we simply have a couple of smart, beautiful girls. :) We wouldn't trade 'em, that's for sure.

it's a mystery

Does anyone watch Monk? It's my new favorite show.

I tried it years ago -- as many as five or six years ago -- and didn't like it much. Thought it was kind of cheesy. But now I love it, and am trying to catch every episode. (I think they're up to 102 at this point.) Isn't that funny, how you can think, "eh," about something one time, then adore it sometime later? I've got 'em stacked 14 deep on my DVR. I'd do an all-day marathon viewing session some Saturday, but I suspect my family would object.

I realized the other day that my three favorite shows are murder mysteries. What is it about a murder mystery that's so compelling? Isn't murder a pretty terrible thing? Does it make the mystery that much better, that the stakes are that high? Or, in our fictional worlds, do we need high stakes to make the solving of the crime mandatory? Murder mysteries in books are fun, as well. That's something I've just never understood.

One of the really great aspects about Monk is its PG-ratedness. It's not something I'd watch with Lizzy around, just because of the murder/criminal aspect, but nor would I worry about her walking in to see something really gory, or to hear an inappropriate word, etc. My other shows (House, Bones and e.r.), now -- totally different story. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, House and Bones have gone the 'two women graphically making out' route. Whatup with that? Is that what we trot out for sweeps week these days? Sheesh. I was really not impressed. I don't even so much object to the lesbian/bisexual plotline as I do to the graphic visual. It feels like someone's trying desperately to capture the '15-year-old boy' demographic. Gimme a break.

Another thing Monk does, that many TV shows do, but Monk's been doing it for seven years, is get a lot of famous guest stars. Not of the Jolie-Pitt caliber, but lots and lots of sidekicks and character actors. Which is fun. And there's a lot of pathos, and story arcs that are picked up again and again. I really like that in a show.

Monk himself is a funny combo of lovable, and utterly annoying. Tony Shalhoub does a great job with him. And I'm juuuust OCD enough to be made uncomfortable by a few of his phobias -- that I sort of share them, too, that is.

Lizzy

I just read this, from babycenter.com. I've never really heard anyone put it like this:

It's sometimes said that a mom is the center of a 5-year-old's universe, but at 6 she gets pushed aside. At 6, the 6-year-old himself is the center of his universe. You're still apt to get your share of hugs and heart-strewn handmade cards, but don't feel too hurt if this blatant love shifts from boil to simmer.

When I got pregnant with Maddie, and counted forward to see what we'd be in the middle of when she was born, I'm not sure I fully realized all the changes that Lizzy was to go through all at once. It's hard now to separate what's due to starting a new school, and a new grade, and lots of responsibilities (most everything, I suspect), what's simply due to being a little older (some), and what's due to changes within the family as she adjusts to being an older sister, and not the only kid in town (yeah, some, to be certain).

I feel so much less patient with her these days. So easily frustrated. So desirous of her obedience -- wouldn't life be better if she would just DO WHAT WE TELL HER TO?!
She's a great helper, and she does seem to understand and accept most of the changes that come with being a big sis. But she seems to test us AT EVERY STEP. I just don't know why. I'm sure I did the same. It's funny, though -- I remember pulling some of the junk she pulls, when I was young, and yet it seems like my parents had things much better in hand. Did they? Or am I remembering later years? Or am I not remembering it accurately at all? Hard to know.
Then again, my mom stayed home with us -- our lives weren't all one constant rush to the next activity. Ugh, I hate that. I've fallen into a pattern of skipping activities here and there over the past few weekends, rather than making one more push to get to the next thing. It just gets to be too much. And we're not doing that much! I guess the birthday/Halloween parties add up after a certain point.

Lizzy's REALLY been into High School Musical lately. We still haven't seen the third installment -- currently in theaters; we're possibly going with friends, so the mother and I can commiserate as our daughters fanatically soak it all in -- but Lizzy asks to see some of either 1 or 2 just about every night.

Last night, I thought, okay. You want to see a musical? I'll show you a MUSICAL! We popped in The Sound of Music. It's in my genetic heritage to love musicals. My dad, for whatever reason -- when I asked him recently, he couldn't think of an answer -- adores musicals. Certain ones particularly, of course. He sounded shocked this summer when I said I hadn't been to see Mamma Mia!, the movie based on ABBA hits. And I love ABBA! There's just something about having a tiny baby that interferes with carefree outings such as those.

At one stretch, I had to go upstairs to try to get Maddie down to bed. Lizzy watched by herself, and I told her I'd answer any questions when I got back. (there are always questions!)
She was puzzled by the "I am 16 ..." song. 'Was the girl (Liesl) trying to get the boy (Rolf) to kiss her?' she said. 'Uh, well, not really,' I said, then launched into a halfhearted attempt to explain flirting. 'And then they kissed at the end of the song!' says Lizzy. 'But they shouldn't have, right? Were they supposed to?' I said, 'Well, I think she's trying to keep it secret from her dad, so I guess not.' 'Yeah, and if she kisses a boy, she'll have to tell the boy she marries later that she kissed someone else,' says Lizzy, and expounds on this theme for a few more minutes.
Me: "Uhhh."
I liked the moral certainty there. We'll see how long she sticks to it. I'll certainly have to remind her of that mentality when she's prime boy-kissing age. Which is, what, these days? 9? 10??

(sounds of Kate weeping openly at her desk)

camera envy

I get this funny sense of paranoia whenever I'm going to say anything about Lizzy these days that's a secret (from her) -- as if she might read the blog. Ha! Although, I suppose that day will be upon us at some point ...

I bought her a camera yesterday. Actually, her Pop-Pop (Matt's dad) and my parents bought it. Or the money they sent for her birthday bought it.
Anyway, she's getting a camera for her birthday, which is today, and it's pretty sweet. Yeah, I probably could've bought it cheaper elsewhere, had I done some research, etc., but I'd talked to a guy from Ritz Camera about this awhile back -- I took in Lizzy's 'kid digital camera' to download the photos, and whoa, you can barely get a decent 4-by-6 with the resolution that thing doesn't have -- and he recommended that, next time, I purchase a 'grown-up' camera, and get a replacement policy for it. If she drops it, I can get a new one. Of course, if she loses it, I'm outta luck.

So, this time, that's what I got. She's been borrowing my camera lately, and it makes me nervous. She can have her own to destroy.

Problem is, since mine is umpteen years old (in reality, probably about 4), hers is nicer! Has a way better view screen, anyway, and 8 megapixels. Eight! I don't even know what mine has but it's something pathetic, like 2 or 4. Bah!

It's gonna cause me a little pain, along with the pride, to see her whipping out this sharp, compact camera that kicks the backside of my bit of old technology. Except for my killer zoom. A large part of what I was going for with my point-and-shoot purchase.

You can bet that, if she opens it tonight and isn't exploding with joy, I'm taking it right back. Darnit.
Perhaps it's Mommy's turn to borrow Lizzy's camera now and then ...

Added bonus! She'll be taking twenty thousand photos of Maddie. (The poor baby's going to go blind.) If any of them turn out well, I can fold them into the Baby Pics collection.

The one wrinkle in my plan is in how to limit the number of photos she wants me to develop. Set a limit over a certain period of time? Make her pay out of her own money? (that's the source of another blog entry, probably.)

Suggestions welcome. :)

this 'n' that

I keep composing blog entries in my head, but never getting (or taking?) the opportunity to type them out. Your loss, people! Real award-winning material here. (yeah, right.)

I have to confess, I am so, so happy that the election is over. Not necessarily about the outcome. Then again, I wasn't a feverish devotee of anyone -- I never am -- and that, I think, is what made me so very VERY sick of this particular campaign. Because, you see, there was a RIGHT and a WRONG candidate. Even more so than usual! Of this, many, many loud people were absolutely certain. And you were an IDIOT if you did not see it THEIR WAY. This certainty gave them the right -- nay, the moral imperative! -- to flood my mailbox, and doorknob, with all manner of literature. (in fairness, both sides, in all races, did this. Profusely.) I just hope none of them were touting their care of the environment, because none of that stuff ever even made it into the house. Straight to the circular file in our driveway. And two or three groups of people (from the same side) visited our home. It was apparently the thing to do if you can't be satisfied with contributing just your one vote. You had to go out and "make a difference." Apparently, that's code for "bothering people in their homes." But I will say, it paid off for said busybodies. Their guy won Virginia, and not by a lot.
So, as I always do, I have quite mixed feelings about this outcome. Extreme relief that it's over, and strong curiosity about where it will all lead. I'm pretty sure it's not a politically paved road to the Promised Land, but I realize I'm in the minority by thinking that.

I had a scare this morning -- the nurse from Lizzy's school called me. I kind of outed Lizzy yesterday when I was at school for her parent/teacher conference. (which didn't inform me of a whole lot; it kind of reeked of 'obligatory meeting'.) I had a few extra minutes beforehand, so I popped into the front office to inquire about what to do if my kid had lice. BAH! Why do I do these things ... a lady chased me down the hall to ask who my daughter was, and I wouldn't tell her, and still, they somehow knew and plucked Lizzy out of class this morning to pick over her scalp. Miraculously, they found only one dead louse. So they packed her back off to class. Woo! Victory is OURS! We did a lice treatment on Sunday, but I didn't think it had worked, because Lizzy was still scratching Monday and Tuesday. I spent some time last night and this morning going through her hair for nits. Guess I got 'em all. Or else the nurse didn't look hard enough. Either way, YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

Yesterday was unfortunate in another way (and I don't mean the election) -- one of my nightmares came true, and I forgot to take my breast pump to work. I'm not sure I can adequately 'express' (HA! breastfeeding humor!) the horrors of that situation. Let's just say, I worked only a half day, then got home, and pumped 9 1/2 oz. I'll also say this -- ouch.

In other postpartum fun, my hair's been falling out for about a month now. I find it everywhere. I've fished it out of poor Maddie's diaper a few times -- nothing like, er, flossing your newborn -- and she keeps grabbing it and getting it wrapped around her fingers. Naturally, the bathroom is a disaster area, where hair is concerned. I've always been weird about hair; once it leaves its home on the body, it freaks me out. I'd rather see dirt on the floor or counter than hair. Don't know what that's about. So it's pretty yukky. I spend half my time in the shower just running my hands through my hair and collecting giant clumps.

Thanks for reading this far. You are indeed brave souls.

In a moment of extreme insanity, I signed Lizzy up for Monday/Wednesday night swim lessons. I was in a panic to get her into this class by the time she turned 6, as that was the age recommendation. Poor child is older enough as it is than the other kids. Weird thing is, it's working out great! She looks forward to it, it's a pleasant little evening at the pool, and Maddie's reasonably well behaved, and we get a treat from Wendy's on the way home. Then we swing by the bus stop and pick up Matt, so he's able to stay at work a little late those nights.

Speaking of commuting home -- it's about that time.