Walk On

Jane has been walking for a little over a month now. Chris put together this video of her progression from crawler to walker.

The family was already sent this, but I just wanted to make sure everyone who wanted to see it got to see it. Oh and anyone who doesn't want to watch 3 minutes of someone else's  kid walking, don't worry, I won't be offended if you don't watch it.

This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Yesterday was one of those days. You know the kind where you would sell a kidney for five minutes of bathroom peace? When you're a stay at home mom, a lot of days are like that. I'm not saying that there aren't moments that make it worth all the sacrifice and I'm not saying that I won't look back on this in twenty years and realize that staying at home was the best decision I ever made. I'm just saying that some days I miss my confident career self. Yesterday was one of those days. 

It all began with one of those foolhardy moments where I thought I had things under control. A morning of teething fueled screaming had given way to the bliss of a napping baby and Emily absorbed in the edutainment wonder that is Sesame Street. That's when I made my fatal mistake.

I decided to clean the doors and baseboards and if I was going to do it, I may as well do it right. Why wouldn't I use the best tool for the job? That's what I told myself as I reached for my favorite white jug with the blue cap - the one that should have been labeled "Bottled Destruction" but was instead labeled "Clorox".

A tablespoon or two. That's all I added to the small dish of water I used for dipping my cleaning rag and that's all I needed to make all the baseboards on the first floor sparkling clean. I made my way around the house enjoying the bleachy smell that was faintly wafting up from my clean baseboards. Last of all I moved into the living room - the final island of carpet on the main floor of our house. Only a fool would bring a tub of bleach water into a carpeted area and I'm no fool. That's why I left it in the kitchen - going back to dip as needed.

Soon, the job was complete. I was done with my rag and didn't want to risk it ending up on the floor, so I carefully carried it to the laundry room. I emerged just in time to see Emily become bored with  Sesame Street, leap off the couch and careen towards that tub of bleach water in the kitchen like it was some sort of small child magnet. I yelled for her to stop. It was in vain. I was too late. She had already tripped over the tub and accidentally kicked it, sending it flying several feet. It came to a rest on the living room carpet.


This is what bleach looks like on a carpet (it's the yellow areas).

This is what bleach looks like on brand new pants that have only seen two hours of wear.

This is what the stain looks like after we skipped the kids' play time in favor of a rug shopping excursion.

I am currently composing a strongly worded letter to PBS in which I vow never to support them no matter how alluring their offers of tote bags and concert DVD's become. I am disgusted at the irresponsibility of the editors in including a segment that failed to keep my daughter where she belonged- riveted to the television. Yesterday Sesame Street, PBS and television in general let me down and pushed Emily into a life of crime.

On the other hand, sometimes these things happen. And if my parents can forgive me for "washing" the car with a wire brush, perhaps someday I can forgive Emily for ruining a pair of clearance pants and a carpet that has seen better days. And in twenty years, I will not only be glad I was at home with Emily yesterday, I will laugh about it. But not today. The wound is still too fresh.

A Rare Glimpse into the Lives of the Natives

Shortly before her last birthday, Emily became obsessed with taking pictures. Since we were a one camera family, we decided to get her her own before she destroyed ours. After several iterations with crappy kid's cameras, we finally got her a regular old Black Friday digital camera.

A lot of her pictures look like this:

And this:

















But on occasion, she surprises us. Her pictures are sometimes not that bad and offer us a view of the world through her eyes.

The other day, I was downloading the pictures from her memory card when I realized that she had given us an especially rare view of her world. Somehow, she had smuggled the camera into her room during nap time. Now I don't have to wonder any more what Emily does when I think she's napping.


She lays on her floor.

Then she turns on her ceiling fan.

And then turns it off.

She strikes a pose.

And then pretends to sleep.

Of course that is followed by her pretending to wake up.

And a little light reading.

When she decides she's done with her alone time, she calls me to come get her and says, "Mom, I had a great nap!"

Hello? Hello?

This may be something only the grandparents will think is as cute as I do. After FHE on Monday (which ended in Emily tearing the cushions of the couch and being sent to time out), Jane decided to make a few phone calls. In order to avoid self incrimination, I will tell you that I don't talk on the phone that much and so Jane must have picked up this habit with very little example. That's because she's a brilliant child. Okay, maybe not, but I'm entitled to my opinion.


And thank you to all those who have let me know that you read. I'm happy to know you all do. And just to clarify, if you are related to me, if I have worked, lived or gone to church with you, I assume there's a good chance you read my blog and that makes me happy. That's why I blog (it has nothing to do with me secretly being a frustrated author who needs an outlet).

The reason why I was concerned has to do with a little program that Chris used to track the hits on his and my blog when we first started blogging. At first it was a contest. Then it was a slaughter. Chris lost so hard that he is still feeling the pain. The other day, I decided to check how many hits I had just for fun. This program will tell me the number of hits in the last month and the states they came from. The most hits came from my home state. The second most hits came from a state where I know no one. Considering all the kid pics and personal info, it freaked me out a little.

Since I don't like to be freaked out, that's where all the talk of going private came from. I am working on establishing an email feed for those of you who use readers to check blogs. If Google can cure cancer, why can't they allow an RSS feed from a blog of which you are an approved reader? Anyway, I'll give you all plenty of notice before I do anything. And in the meantime, you can continue to enjoy the sarcasm sans password.

The Privacy Dilemma

I'm thinking about going private. I've resisted it for years, because I use my blog to keep in touch with my friends and family and I can't put a private blog on my RSS feed, so I end up checking private blogs not so often. So, I'm appealing to you, my loyal blog fans, for a solution to the RSS feed dilemma. Does anyone know how to make it work with a private blog?

And in the meantime, if you read my blog, let me know. I don't expect everyone to comment on every post, but I love to hear from my friends and lurkers freak me out. And, who knows? It may solve the mystery of the unidentified hits I've been getting and prevent me from having to go private. 

The Thrill of the Hunt

Easter week was very interesting to say the least.

Tuesday was an Easter Egg hunt at the park. It looked something like this:

 

And this:

It was almost 70° that day. We were sure it was going to be a lovely Easter. But then, Thursday, April Fool's day, we had a freak lightning/thunder/snowstorm and so Good Friday looked like this:

Saturday we hoped for the best while we dyed our eggs.

 And filled plastic eggs:

(Emily is being very responsible about filling and Jane is acting like she hasn't eaten for three days)

Easter morning dawned bright and sunny and we celebrated the greatest act of love that mankind has ever known with candy (it doesn't make sense to me either).

And more candy

 

(It's chocolate, folks)

Our hard hours of Easter preparation were rewarded when the kids were able to hunt eggs outside:

And since the dads were in charge of hiding eggs, there were quite a few buried in the remaining snowdrifts.

I am thankful for Easter, for the atonement, for my family, and for the wonderful friends that celebrated Easter with us.