A family breakfast custom of ours that has evolved is bacon and eggs on Sunday mornings. And just to add a nice white trash element to it, I pretty much always cook the bacon on the grill. Well, in a cast iron skillet on the grill. Oh yeah. Doesn't matter if it is 30 degrees and snowing. I'm out there on Sunday mornings grilling my bacon. I bet the neighbors think I am one weird woman. (That sort of thing just "isn't done" in my neighborhood -- "sniff.") But as much as I love me some bacon, I really cannot tolerate the mess it makes of my stovetop and kitchen.
I usually make each of us a hard fried egg and toast and construct each of us an egg and bacon sandwich. It is a favorite of Sami's. And yesterday she was contemplating the name of the sandwich, and she's all, "I get the 'bacon' part of an achin' and bacon sandwich. But what does 'achin' mean?" I said, "Honey, it is called an egg and bacon sandwich. You kind of changed it into 'achin' and bacon' when you say it." I think we'll just start calling it that.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
9/11
This morning both Michael and I were up early to prepare for a showing scheduled for 10am. Cleaning and whatnot before I headed off to work. And he had his ever-present Fox News on which was showing some footage from 9/11. Of course it stops you in your tracks having not seen it for a while, and we were both standing there watching it on the tv. Sami wanders in and sees we're captivated and so turns her attention to it too. She watched for a while, and then:
Sami: Momma, now why did those buildings fall down? Because of that fire?
Me: (thinking oh geez I have to be thoughtful in how I explain this to a 5 year old) Well, it is a little more than that, honey. Some very bad people took over two airplanes full of people that were flying in the sky. And the bad men hurt the pilots and took over flying the planes and crashed them on purpose into those buildings. All the people in the airplanes died, and people in the buildings died too. Some got out okay, but some died. It was a very sad day.
Sami: So the airplane crashes made the fire that made the buildings fall down?
Me: Yes. Those airplanes had tons of jet fuel on them and it burned into those big fires you saw and eventually that's what made the buildings collapse.
Sami: (thinking for a few seconds, and very somber) Ooooh. I hadn't thought about the jet fuel.
And no. She has no idea what jet fuel is. I'm fairly certain that prior to this conversation she'd never even heard those words before. I anticipated the next question would be, "What's jet fuel?" But she just slowly nodded once and wandered off.
Sami: Momma, now why did those buildings fall down? Because of that fire?
Me: (thinking oh geez I have to be thoughtful in how I explain this to a 5 year old) Well, it is a little more than that, honey. Some very bad people took over two airplanes full of people that were flying in the sky. And the bad men hurt the pilots and took over flying the planes and crashed them on purpose into those buildings. All the people in the airplanes died, and people in the buildings died too. Some got out okay, but some died. It was a very sad day.
Sami: So the airplane crashes made the fire that made the buildings fall down?
Me: Yes. Those airplanes had tons of jet fuel on them and it burned into those big fires you saw and eventually that's what made the buildings collapse.
Sami: (thinking for a few seconds, and very somber) Ooooh. I hadn't thought about the jet fuel.
And no. She has no idea what jet fuel is. I'm fairly certain that prior to this conversation she'd never even heard those words before. I anticipated the next question would be, "What's jet fuel?" But she just slowly nodded once and wandered off.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
First Full Day of Kindergarten
I anticipated how tired Sami was going to be after her first full day of Kindergarten, but I didn't anticipate that one almost-5 year old could melt down so repeatedly and so thoroughly within the span of about 3 hours.
Last year was preschool at the same location, so at least Kindergarten wasn't as traumatic for her as it might have been had she not attended half days of preschool there before. And they started last week with 3 half days, so she could kind of ease into it. But I just knew...
I could see it last year -- how she'd hold it together during the school day. Emotionally, physically, and mentally; she'd come home just to let it all loose from keeping it together in front of teachers and classmates. So I knew full days were going to be a challenge. I know she'll get used to it. But the poor thing.
She was so pathetically exhausted even she recognized in herself that she was -- ya know? At least 3 times she wailed to me, "I wanna go back to half days."
I told her we're all having a hard time, and of course I told her it will get better as we all get used to it and get into a better routine and rhythm.
And we are all trying to find a routine that works for us. This is a shift for our entire household and lifestyle, even. We've always been more of a late night / late morning sort of family what with Michael working until 10 at night. So all this early morning shuffle has us each upended in our own way.
It will get easier. Right? Won't it? Please say it will?
Last year was preschool at the same location, so at least Kindergarten wasn't as traumatic for her as it might have been had she not attended half days of preschool there before. And they started last week with 3 half days, so she could kind of ease into it. But I just knew...
I could see it last year -- how she'd hold it together during the school day. Emotionally, physically, and mentally; she'd come home just to let it all loose from keeping it together in front of teachers and classmates. So I knew full days were going to be a challenge. I know she'll get used to it. But the poor thing.
She was so pathetically exhausted even she recognized in herself that she was -- ya know? At least 3 times she wailed to me, "I wanna go back to half days."
I told her we're all having a hard time, and of course I told her it will get better as we all get used to it and get into a better routine and rhythm.
And we are all trying to find a routine that works for us. This is a shift for our entire household and lifestyle, even. We've always been more of a late night / late morning sort of family what with Michael working until 10 at night. So all this early morning shuffle has us each upended in our own way.
It will get easier. Right? Won't it? Please say it will?
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Fernella? Is that you?
I'm trying to pay bills at the computer. Sami has the tv remote pretending it is her office phone and that she's working.
She encouraged me to use her "phone" to make a call, which I did. To my credit card company to tell them off. That was good. Then I told Sami the people I called needed to talk to her.
She says, "Yes? My name? Yes, I'm... Fernella Peadoe."
Oh Lordy. I LOVE listening to her one-sided make believe phone conversations.
Fernella Peadoe? Honestly, where on Earth does she come up with it?
She encouraged me to use her "phone" to make a call, which I did. To my credit card company to tell them off. That was good. Then I told Sami the people I called needed to talk to her.
She says, "Yes? My name? Yes, I'm... Fernella Peadoe."
Oh Lordy. I LOVE listening to her one-sided make believe phone conversations.
Fernella Peadoe? Honestly, where on Earth does she come up with it?
Monday, July 06, 2009
Of Loosemeat and Paper Sandwiches
Out of the ordinary and unlikely things seem to happen to me. Not big things, mind you. Just... unusual things. Take this for example.
About 3 or 4 years ago, we "found" a specialty meat shop (butcher shop I guess?) near our neighborhood. We love steak. And once we tried theirs, and their ground beef, hand-sliced bacon and roasts, etc. we vowed we were done with the Albertson's nearest our house as far as our meat purchases are concerned. (That damn Albertson's is another whole story in of itself -- to a person each and every one of my neighbors with whom I have discussed this store hates it quite passionately. And that was one of the first phrases Sami learned, "You hate this store, don't you Momma?" as I stamped angrily around its aisles trying desperately to find ill-placed items. Wow. Sorry. I seem to be rant-prone.)
And so quite literally, I never buy meat at this Albertson's. (Oh. And it smells really gross in their meat department. Always with the semi-rotting meat and seafood-gone-bad odiferousness. Geez. Okay. I'll stop it.) Except for on July 4th. I drove to my Happy Meat Place only to find they were closed. I thought they might be, but hoped they wouldn't be. But they were. So we went next door (the produce shop WAS open -- hooray!) and procured about 50 dollars worth of produce for 24 bucks. Love that shop too.
Because I had a hankering for hotdogs in the style of the Milwaukee Weiner House in Sioux City. (That link there is just to someone else writing about it. It only seems right that they don't seem to have their own website. They're old school big time.) A love of their dogs was borne unto me by my dad who loved eating there. And I can do a fairly decent rendition of their "chili" used on their dogs. Plus it is delicious as just a loosemeat sandwich -- that Midwestern staple also known as taverns, sloppy joes, and maid-rites. Plus? Loosemeat? I grew up hearing that name, but now after 20+ years away from the Midwest I realize that is a funny, funny-sounding name.
I bought 5 pounds of ground beef at the @#$$#! Albertson's meat department. I had in mind to freeze most of it, make my loosemeats (snerk), and make tacos, burgers, and spaghetti meat sauce later in the week. So "planning ahead" of me, no?
When I got home and started to divide it up (darn! why didn't I take photos?) I kind of noticed... something. Some kind of dark specks in it. Now, I'm a fairly queasy nonetheless enthusiastic carnivore anyway. Like, I've always said that if I had to kill it, clean it, and cut it there is a high likelihood I'd become a vegetarian. So I'm fearful that the dark specks are like, I don't know, hunks of congealed blood or something gross that won't really show up when I cook it. So I figure if I don't look too closely at it, everything will be okay. You know, once it is cooked and all.
And so I commence to said cooking of a pound of it -- the rest went into the freezer painstakingly labeled by my daughter in some illegible hyroglyphics. I added freshly ground pepper. And other stuff. And as it cooked, I noticed that the, um, pepper -- yes, that's what it was -- was quite prominently visible. Well, I told myself, you did use a large grind. Everything's okay.
Then I picked some of it out. And some more of it. And started putting the pieces of "it" on a paper towel. Then I got brave and put on my reading glasses to look more closely. It was black stuff. And it tore, really a lot like paper.
And I picked and I picked. And then I got the not yet frozen packages out of the freezer and looked more closely at them.
Something was wrong here.
I called the store manager and he told me to bring it in. Which I did. They were mostly nice about it (wait, though, the exception of course happened at the meat counter). Apologized. Asked me if I wanted replacement (I did). Asked me if they could also provide whatever else I had attempted to prepare for my meal in case they ruined a whole meal (I declined). The manager sent me back to the meat counter to get my replacement beef.
When I explained the situation to the Mean Lady at the meat counter. She did not apologize. She did not commisserate. She said, "Oh, that's just butcher paper." I said, "Butcher paper is white." She kept pointing to the butcher paper in the counter display like she was terribly irritated. Yep, it was still white. I go, "Um no. It wasn't white. It was black stuff." She rolled her eyes (!) at me and said, "There is black paper under the meat. Some probably stuck to it and went through the grinder." Like I was being a drama queen because I found foreign black bits in my meat. Lovely. I tell her I want the 5 pounds in 1 pound packages. I'm still striking a friendly tone when I say, "Because I already had to do it once -- figured I'd let you do the work this time around." In a nasty-ass voice Mean Lady says sarcastically, "Yeah. Thanks."
Store Manager not only gave me the new beef for free, but also refunded my money. I'm happy with that. No big deal. I entertained the idea of busting Mean Meat Counter Lady to him, but I just couldn't muster up the effort. She was just mean.
So I ask... what are the odds that the ONE time in 4 years I buy meat at Albertson's I get the one package of ground beef with weird crap ground up into it? Or (think ominous music) do they frequently grind up weird crap into their ground beef?
And more importantly? Once I convinced myself it was harmless black paper and that I had picked a goodly portion of it out? I ate a loosemeat and paper sandwich. And next I fed one to my daughter after determining I had no ill effects. No sense wasting a good batch of Milwaukee Weiner House loosemeat, I always say.
How about you? Anybody out there? What weird stuff have you found in your food?
About 3 or 4 years ago, we "found" a specialty meat shop (butcher shop I guess?) near our neighborhood. We love steak. And once we tried theirs, and their ground beef, hand-sliced bacon and roasts, etc. we vowed we were done with the Albertson's nearest our house as far as our meat purchases are concerned. (That damn Albertson's is another whole story in of itself -- to a person each and every one of my neighbors with whom I have discussed this store hates it quite passionately. And that was one of the first phrases Sami learned, "You hate this store, don't you Momma?" as I stamped angrily around its aisles trying desperately to find ill-placed items. Wow. Sorry. I seem to be rant-prone.)
And so quite literally, I never buy meat at this Albertson's. (Oh. And it smells really gross in their meat department. Always with the semi-rotting meat and seafood-gone-bad odiferousness. Geez. Okay. I'll stop it.) Except for on July 4th. I drove to my Happy Meat Place only to find they were closed. I thought they might be, but hoped they wouldn't be. But they were. So we went next door (the produce shop WAS open -- hooray!) and procured about 50 dollars worth of produce for 24 bucks. Love that shop too.
Because I had a hankering for hotdogs in the style of the Milwaukee Weiner House in Sioux City. (That link there is just to someone else writing about it. It only seems right that they don't seem to have their own website. They're old school big time.) A love of their dogs was borne unto me by my dad who loved eating there. And I can do a fairly decent rendition of their "chili" used on their dogs. Plus it is delicious as just a loosemeat sandwich -- that Midwestern staple also known as taverns, sloppy joes, and maid-rites. Plus? Loosemeat? I grew up hearing that name, but now after 20+ years away from the Midwest I realize that is a funny, funny-sounding name.
I bought 5 pounds of ground beef at the @#$$#! Albertson's meat department. I had in mind to freeze most of it, make my loosemeats (snerk), and make tacos, burgers, and spaghetti meat sauce later in the week. So "planning ahead" of me, no?
When I got home and started to divide it up (darn! why didn't I take photos?) I kind of noticed... something. Some kind of dark specks in it. Now, I'm a fairly queasy nonetheless enthusiastic carnivore anyway. Like, I've always said that if I had to kill it, clean it, and cut it there is a high likelihood I'd become a vegetarian. So I'm fearful that the dark specks are like, I don't know, hunks of congealed blood or something gross that won't really show up when I cook it. So I figure if I don't look too closely at it, everything will be okay. You know, once it is cooked and all.
And so I commence to said cooking of a pound of it -- the rest went into the freezer painstakingly labeled by my daughter in some illegible hyroglyphics. I added freshly ground pepper. And other stuff. And as it cooked, I noticed that the, um, pepper -- yes, that's what it was -- was quite prominently visible. Well, I told myself, you did use a large grind. Everything's okay.
Then I picked some of it out. And some more of it. And started putting the pieces of "it" on a paper towel. Then I got brave and put on my reading glasses to look more closely. It was black stuff. And it tore, really a lot like paper.
And I picked and I picked. And then I got the not yet frozen packages out of the freezer and looked more closely at them.
Something was wrong here.
I called the store manager and he told me to bring it in. Which I did. They were mostly nice about it (wait, though, the exception of course happened at the meat counter). Apologized. Asked me if I wanted replacement (I did). Asked me if they could also provide whatever else I had attempted to prepare for my meal in case they ruined a whole meal (I declined). The manager sent me back to the meat counter to get my replacement beef.
When I explained the situation to the Mean Lady at the meat counter. She did not apologize. She did not commisserate. She said, "Oh, that's just butcher paper." I said, "Butcher paper is white." She kept pointing to the butcher paper in the counter display like she was terribly irritated. Yep, it was still white. I go, "Um no. It wasn't white. It was black stuff." She rolled her eyes (!) at me and said, "There is black paper under the meat. Some probably stuck to it and went through the grinder." Like I was being a drama queen because I found foreign black bits in my meat. Lovely. I tell her I want the 5 pounds in 1 pound packages. I'm still striking a friendly tone when I say, "Because I already had to do it once -- figured I'd let you do the work this time around." In a nasty-ass voice Mean Lady says sarcastically, "Yeah. Thanks."
Store Manager not only gave me the new beef for free, but also refunded my money. I'm happy with that. No big deal. I entertained the idea of busting Mean Meat Counter Lady to him, but I just couldn't muster up the effort. She was just mean.
So I ask... what are the odds that the ONE time in 4 years I buy meat at Albertson's I get the one package of ground beef with weird crap ground up into it? Or (think ominous music) do they frequently grind up weird crap into their ground beef?
And more importantly? Once I convinced myself it was harmless black paper and that I had picked a goodly portion of it out? I ate a loosemeat and paper sandwich. And next I fed one to my daughter after determining I had no ill effects. No sense wasting a good batch of Milwaukee Weiner House loosemeat, I always say.
How about you? Anybody out there? What weird stuff have you found in your food?
Monday, May 11, 2009
I couldn't make this stuff up...
So yesterday we're in the car just backing out of the garage to run to the grocery store, and out of the blue she says to me, "Mom? Was I in your tummy at your wedding?"
What?! WHAT?! Now I'm not afraid to admit that our particular timeline was such that in fact yes she was "in my tummy" at our wedding. But there is just no way possible that this child has the faculties to even question such a thing. She doesn't know math. She doesn't know how long babies gestate. She has no concept. We've never talked about it nor referenced it in any way. So what the hell?
Deep breath. Matter-of-fact tone. "Well, yes. You were."
Her: Oh, then I was there early, huh?
What!?
Me: Kind of. Why are you asking?
Her: I just wondered what your wedding was like. Who was there?
Me: Oh, it was fun! Aunt Bec and Grandma Grace flew in for it. And all our friends were there. There were beautiful flowers, and oh! We even had a cake!
Her: Mmmm. What kind of cake?
Me: The best cake I've ever had. One of our friends had it made for us as a gift and it was delicious. It was chocolate with white frosting.
Her: Oh that is my most favorite.
Me: And there were presents! People brought us presents!
Her: But I wasn't really there, right?
Me: (finally figuring out what she was getting at...) No honey. Are you wondering why you couldn't remember it?
Her: Yes. It sounds like I would have liked it.
She was just trying to figure out why she couldn't remember such a momentous event, I guess. She wasn't trying to implicate us after all. No doubt that will come later. :-)
What?! WHAT?! Now I'm not afraid to admit that our particular timeline was such that in fact yes she was "in my tummy" at our wedding. But there is just no way possible that this child has the faculties to even question such a thing. She doesn't know math. She doesn't know how long babies gestate. She has no concept. We've never talked about it nor referenced it in any way. So what the hell?
Deep breath. Matter-of-fact tone. "Well, yes. You were."
Her: Oh, then I was there early, huh?
What!?
Me: Kind of. Why are you asking?
Her: I just wondered what your wedding was like. Who was there?
Me: Oh, it was fun! Aunt Bec and Grandma Grace flew in for it. And all our friends were there. There were beautiful flowers, and oh! We even had a cake!
Her: Mmmm. What kind of cake?
Me: The best cake I've ever had. One of our friends had it made for us as a gift and it was delicious. It was chocolate with white frosting.
Her: Oh that is my most favorite.
Me: And there were presents! People brought us presents!
Her: But I wasn't really there, right?
Me: (finally figuring out what she was getting at...) No honey. Are you wondering why you couldn't remember it?
Her: Yes. It sounds like I would have liked it.
She was just trying to figure out why she couldn't remember such a momentous event, I guess. She wasn't trying to implicate us after all. No doubt that will come later. :-)
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
The Question
I'm was at work and stepped away from my desk for a minute, and when I get back I was given the following message from Amanda in my office:
Ms. Ashley of Lunch Bunch (this is the little hour-long day care we use 2 days per week that is available just prior to Sami's preschool class where they each bring their lunch, eat together, and then go play together) called, and Sami just threw up during lunch. But she's got her color back and she seems okay.
Me: Did she leave a number?
Amanda: She wasn't sure what it was. (huh?) But they were leaving to head to the ECE classroom in 10 minutes anyway. She said you might just want to call the school office.
Me: Thanks, Amanda. (mutter, mutter at Lunch Bunch lady for not leaving me a number)
I dialed the school office and told them the situation; that I'm just trying to determine what happened and maybe talk to Sami. They first try the room where Lunch Bunch is held, but they've already left. And then they try the ECE room, but I figure they're out gathering the kids in the hall to bring them in. I'm only 15 minutes from the school at my office, so I decide I'll drive over. I'm certain I'm not leaving her in school for the remainder of the day anyway. So instead of wasting time trying to call them, I'll just head over there.
When I get there she's already in the classroom at the back, smiling with her bff Zaria. When I walk in her teacher smiles, but seems perplexed as to my presence. So I quietly say to Mrs. Teacher, "I hear someone got sick at Lunch Bunch." She looked surprised, and goes, "Oh really. They didn't tell me that when they dropped her off." You could tell it kind of irritated her. Anyway, by that time Sami had spotted me and as soon as she did, against the backdrop of my breaking heart, her chin began to tremble and I could see the tears just beneath the surface. My brave little girl was holding it together in front of her public, but I could tell she really wanted her mom. I walked over and hugged her, and said, "I hear you got sick, Honey." She just nodded -- I think she knew if she talked she'd cry. I said, "That's okay. Go get your stuff and you can just come home with Mom now. We'll make a nest and relax and then you can come back to school tomorrow." She protested just a little bit, but I reminded her that she didn't want to make her friends sick and then she seemed to be relieved to get to leave with me.
Thank God I went to get her because sure enough, I had her nested in a blanket surrounded by her stuffed animals when about an hour later she got an awful look on her face and said, "Mom, I think I have to throw up again." Poor little thing. All she'd done was take about 2 sips of juice. I said, "Can you make it to the bathroom?" And she shook her head -- I ran for the kitchen and grabbed a big ol' bowl, and while the first round went on the floor we "caught" the second round. She had nothing to throw up but juice so it wasn't as awful as it can be, but I felt miserable for her as I held her hair back for her.
I cleaned her all up, and grabbed blankets and animals and headed for the washing machine. Got her fresh clothes, and all that. Then made sure she was comfortable and went downstairs to do a little work on the computer.
Later -- feeling a little better -- she wandered down. She goofed around nearby for a while, then came over and said, "Momma. How do doctors make our bodies?"
Me: Do you mean like when we're babies?
Her: Yes.
Me: Oh, well doctors don't make our bodies. They just deliver the babies.
Her: Then who makes our bodies?
Me: Well, mommies and daddies make babies.
Her: So my body, and Daddy's body, and your body, and Jazzy's body? They all come from mommies and daddies?
Me: Yep. You know Grandma Grace... remember? She's my mom. And she's Aunt Bec's mom. And my dad isn't with us anymore. And you remember Daddy's dad, "Granddad," right? He died too. And Daddy's mommy is gone too.
Her: Daddy's mommy died too? I didn't know that.
Me: Yep, that happened before I even knew your daddy -- years and years ago.
Her: (thinking)
Her: What about Jazzy's body? (our dog)
Me: Jazzy had a mommy and daddy too. We don't know them, they live on a farm somewhere and we never met them, but sure enough -- even Jazzy had a mommy and daddy that made her.
Her: Okay.
And off she went. I was kind of relieved she didn't dig any deeper because I hadn't yet comtemplated how I was going to handle The Question. Anyway, I didn't think it would come up at her age. Seems like she'd get older before she'd need more detail. You'd think.
Later, I cautiously fed her a piece of toast and it stayed down. I could tell she really needed to rest but I knew the suggestion of a nap would be met with resistance. So I said, "You know what? I think maybe I'm not feeling so great now. I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit on our bed and watch some tv. Do you want to come with me?" She did, and I closed the curtains to darken the room, turned the tv on really low, and gently tickled her back. Worked like a charm, and she ended up taking a nearly 2 hour nap. Just what she needed.
We got up later and she had some soup. Again, success at keeping it down. Then I was helping her do something or other, and she goes, "Mom, your shirt smells puky. Why didn't you wipe it off?" I just said, "Honey, I've changed my shirt. It isn't my shirt -- I think it is your hair. Wouldn't you like to just rinse off in the shower so that smell is completely gone for you? Your animals and Nemo blanket are all fresh and clean now. She agreed and then afterwards I was folding laundry in our room and half-watching some tv. It had been an exhausting day, and I had been knee-deep in laundry even before I got to add in all the pukey stuff I had to wash.
And here it came...
Her: Mom? How do mommies and daddies make babies?
Me: (oh geez) Well, when they love each other very much they touch in a special way and that's how a baby gets started.
Her: Oh. Okay.
(tick, tick, tick)
Her: But what parts do they touch?
This is my child. She is like me in the most annoying way. I know that vague or cutesy answers are not going to satisfy her. So I figure I'll plunge right in...
Me: Well, boys have a penis...
Her: I know that.
Me: (taken aback...) You do?
Her: Yes. I've seen Daddy's when he gets in the shower. (We're modest around our house, but not to the degree that she never sees us naked obviously.)
Me: And you knew it was called a penis?
Her: Well no. I didn't know that.
Me: Well anyway, and women have a vagina -- and that's what they touch together.
Her: Oh.
(tick, tick, tick)
Her: Where's a vagina?
Me: (demonstrating...) Down by your bits. (I know -- I didn't set out to call our privates that, it just evolved. Shut up.)
Her: Oh.
Her: Okay.
And away she went.
I was thinking about it later and realized that, like, she's never seen herself down there. Ya know? So I told her the next day, "Remember when we were talking about your vagina? First of all, you know that's a very private area, right?" (Nod.) "Well, sometime when we have time, I'll get a mirror and you can look down there at your private area, and you can see how everything looks, okay?" "Okay, Mom."
I don't know if all that was prompted by some bit of playground talk, or if she just thought it up on her own to ask me about it. But I was very matter-of-fact about it all, and I hope I approached it in a way that left her feeling like she could ask me about anything she wants, and that I'll answer her honestly. It was quite the day.
Ms. Ashley of Lunch Bunch (this is the little hour-long day care we use 2 days per week that is available just prior to Sami's preschool class where they each bring their lunch, eat together, and then go play together) called, and Sami just threw up during lunch. But she's got her color back and she seems okay.
Me: Did she leave a number?
Amanda: She wasn't sure what it was. (huh?) But they were leaving to head to the ECE classroom in 10 minutes anyway. She said you might just want to call the school office.
Me: Thanks, Amanda. (mutter, mutter at Lunch Bunch lady for not leaving me a number)
I dialed the school office and told them the situation; that I'm just trying to determine what happened and maybe talk to Sami. They first try the room where Lunch Bunch is held, but they've already left. And then they try the ECE room, but I figure they're out gathering the kids in the hall to bring them in. I'm only 15 minutes from the school at my office, so I decide I'll drive over. I'm certain I'm not leaving her in school for the remainder of the day anyway. So instead of wasting time trying to call them, I'll just head over there.
When I get there she's already in the classroom at the back, smiling with her bff Zaria. When I walk in her teacher smiles, but seems perplexed as to my presence. So I quietly say to Mrs. Teacher, "I hear someone got sick at Lunch Bunch." She looked surprised, and goes, "Oh really. They didn't tell me that when they dropped her off." You could tell it kind of irritated her. Anyway, by that time Sami had spotted me and as soon as she did, against the backdrop of my breaking heart, her chin began to tremble and I could see the tears just beneath the surface. My brave little girl was holding it together in front of her public, but I could tell she really wanted her mom. I walked over and hugged her, and said, "I hear you got sick, Honey." She just nodded -- I think she knew if she talked she'd cry. I said, "That's okay. Go get your stuff and you can just come home with Mom now. We'll make a nest and relax and then you can come back to school tomorrow." She protested just a little bit, but I reminded her that she didn't want to make her friends sick and then she seemed to be relieved to get to leave with me.
Thank God I went to get her because sure enough, I had her nested in a blanket surrounded by her stuffed animals when about an hour later she got an awful look on her face and said, "Mom, I think I have to throw up again." Poor little thing. All she'd done was take about 2 sips of juice. I said, "Can you make it to the bathroom?" And she shook her head -- I ran for the kitchen and grabbed a big ol' bowl, and while the first round went on the floor we "caught" the second round. She had nothing to throw up but juice so it wasn't as awful as it can be, but I felt miserable for her as I held her hair back for her.
I cleaned her all up, and grabbed blankets and animals and headed for the washing machine. Got her fresh clothes, and all that. Then made sure she was comfortable and went downstairs to do a little work on the computer.
Later -- feeling a little better -- she wandered down. She goofed around nearby for a while, then came over and said, "Momma. How do doctors make our bodies?"
Me: Do you mean like when we're babies?
Her: Yes.
Me: Oh, well doctors don't make our bodies. They just deliver the babies.
Her: Then who makes our bodies?
Me: Well, mommies and daddies make babies.
Her: So my body, and Daddy's body, and your body, and Jazzy's body? They all come from mommies and daddies?
Me: Yep. You know Grandma Grace... remember? She's my mom. And she's Aunt Bec's mom. And my dad isn't with us anymore. And you remember Daddy's dad, "Granddad," right? He died too. And Daddy's mommy is gone too.
Her: Daddy's mommy died too? I didn't know that.
Me: Yep, that happened before I even knew your daddy -- years and years ago.
Her: (thinking)
Her: What about Jazzy's body? (our dog)
Me: Jazzy had a mommy and daddy too. We don't know them, they live on a farm somewhere and we never met them, but sure enough -- even Jazzy had a mommy and daddy that made her.
Her: Okay.
And off she went. I was kind of relieved she didn't dig any deeper because I hadn't yet comtemplated how I was going to handle The Question. Anyway, I didn't think it would come up at her age. Seems like she'd get older before she'd need more detail. You'd think.
Later, I cautiously fed her a piece of toast and it stayed down. I could tell she really needed to rest but I knew the suggestion of a nap would be met with resistance. So I said, "You know what? I think maybe I'm not feeling so great now. I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit on our bed and watch some tv. Do you want to come with me?" She did, and I closed the curtains to darken the room, turned the tv on really low, and gently tickled her back. Worked like a charm, and she ended up taking a nearly 2 hour nap. Just what she needed.
We got up later and she had some soup. Again, success at keeping it down. Then I was helping her do something or other, and she goes, "Mom, your shirt smells puky. Why didn't you wipe it off?" I just said, "Honey, I've changed my shirt. It isn't my shirt -- I think it is your hair. Wouldn't you like to just rinse off in the shower so that smell is completely gone for you? Your animals and Nemo blanket are all fresh and clean now. She agreed and then afterwards I was folding laundry in our room and half-watching some tv. It had been an exhausting day, and I had been knee-deep in laundry even before I got to add in all the pukey stuff I had to wash.
And here it came...
Her: Mom? How do mommies and daddies make babies?
Me: (oh geez) Well, when they love each other very much they touch in a special way and that's how a baby gets started.
Her: Oh. Okay.
(tick, tick, tick)
Her: But what parts do they touch?
This is my child. She is like me in the most annoying way. I know that vague or cutesy answers are not going to satisfy her. So I figure I'll plunge right in...
Me: Well, boys have a penis...
Her: I know that.
Me: (taken aback...) You do?
Her: Yes. I've seen Daddy's when he gets in the shower. (We're modest around our house, but not to the degree that she never sees us naked obviously.)
Me: And you knew it was called a penis?
Her: Well no. I didn't know that.
Me: Well anyway, and women have a vagina -- and that's what they touch together.
Her: Oh.
(tick, tick, tick)
Her: Where's a vagina?
Me: (demonstrating...) Down by your bits. (I know -- I didn't set out to call our privates that, it just evolved. Shut up.)
Her: Oh.
Her: Okay.
And away she went.
I was thinking about it later and realized that, like, she's never seen herself down there. Ya know? So I told her the next day, "Remember when we were talking about your vagina? First of all, you know that's a very private area, right?" (Nod.) "Well, sometime when we have time, I'll get a mirror and you can look down there at your private area, and you can see how everything looks, okay?" "Okay, Mom."
I don't know if all that was prompted by some bit of playground talk, or if she just thought it up on her own to ask me about it. But I was very matter-of-fact about it all, and I hope I approached it in a way that left her feeling like she could ask me about anything she wants, and that I'll answer her honestly. It was quite the day.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Comments from Sami while I'm getting ready for work
Yesterday.
Me: (getting ready to spray my hair with hairspray)
Her: Yes, Mom, you need that spray because your hair is 'up.' (Meaning it had just the slightest and most stylish of 'poofs' in the front -- most would call it "volume.")
Me: I know it's 'up.' That's how I want it.
Her: Why?
Me: Because it looks pretty.
(pause)
Her: Well. I don't think it looks pretty. You should put it down.
Me: Get out of my bathroom.
Today. In my closet right after my shower. I'm naked. Sorry for the visual, but it's key to the exchange.
Her: Your bottom is kind of red. You must've put your lotion on too hard.
Me: (snicker) No honey, I took a hot shower and that makes my skin kind of pinkish.
Her: (thinking for some time...)
Her: Bottom is our word for butt which we're not supposed to say.
Me: Right.
Her: And thick is our word for fat that we're not supposed to say.
Me: Right. Alive things generally don't like to be called fat. It isn't very nice.
Her: But suck is a word we're not supposed to say but it is just it's own word. Right?
Me: (snerk) Yeah. Pretty much.
Me: (getting ready to spray my hair with hairspray)
Her: Yes, Mom, you need that spray because your hair is 'up.' (Meaning it had just the slightest and most stylish of 'poofs' in the front -- most would call it "volume.")
Me: I know it's 'up.' That's how I want it.
Her: Why?
Me: Because it looks pretty.
(pause)
Her: Well. I don't think it looks pretty. You should put it down.
Me: Get out of my bathroom.
Today. In my closet right after my shower. I'm naked. Sorry for the visual, but it's key to the exchange.
Her: Your bottom is kind of red. You must've put your lotion on too hard.
Me: (snicker) No honey, I took a hot shower and that makes my skin kind of pinkish.
Her: (thinking for some time...)
Her: Bottom is our word for butt which we're not supposed to say.
Me: Right.
Her: And thick is our word for fat that we're not supposed to say.
Me: Right. Alive things generally don't like to be called fat. It isn't very nice.
Her: But suck is a word we're not supposed to say but it is just it's own word. Right?
Me: (snerk) Yeah. Pretty much.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
First Swimming Lesson
Weekend before last, Sami was invited to her first birthday party of one of her little pre-school classmates. The parents threw a lovely little kid-friendly party at an indoor pool. But the thing is, most of Sami's classmates had (apparently) either more experience at being in the pool, or a great deal less sense than she did. The pool at its shallowest was 3 feet deep. Which puts it about mid-eyeball on Sam. There was one little raised platform about 3 feet by 4 feet that made it only about 2 and a half feet deep. But even with her life jacket on (oh don't worry, I didn't embarrass her -- a number of the kids wore them) the movement of the water freaked her out, and she ended up spending most of her time in the kiddie playground area and playing catch with a beachball with her little buddy Tomas.
She had fun, but I realized it would probably be good timing to get her into swimming lessons. And while she's not generally fearful of being in a pool, we just don't have many opportunities. She thinks its fun when we're all in the water together like when we visit my aunt and uncle who have a pool in their back yard. But as for braving it alone, not so much.
Enter yet another classmate's lovely mother. Her son was swimming like a little happy fish, and she admitted it was because her husband runs the rec center. In our neighborhood! Better yet, they offer to sign Sami up for lessons even though we have kind of technically missed the deadline. So we did. Great deal too -- 10 half hour lessons for 32 bucks. Twice a week. And it fit perfectly with our schedules.
So yesterday was her first lesson. For the couple of days leading up to it, she said she was excited. But as the hours gave way to minutes until we left for the center, I could see her nervousness amp up. She exhibits it by chattering nonstop. It is kind of cute. And she doesn't come by her apprehension about coming events unfamiliar to her on her own--I am exactly the same way. (We did stop by a few days prior to her lesson just to get the lay of the land. As much for goofy me as it was for her. Anyway....)
We got there and made our way to the pool area. And all I'm seeing are moms (20 years my junior) in their swimsuits with their infants. Clearly a "Mommy and Tot" class. Umm. Hmmm. Crap. We got signed up for the wrong class. Unsettling discomfort ensues. I finally cornered a sort of "in charge"-looking woman and inquired. Ah, good. There are 2 classes. They will not be forcing my pudgy whiteness into a swimsuit. Sami is properly signed up for the pre-school lesson with no parental swimming.
Sami whispers to me that she really wants her teacher to be a girl. We get Terry the Guy. Oh well, he seems really nice. This first day was only 5 kids. That was cool. But ol' Terry jumped right into it -- errr, made the precious children jump into it. He took them to about the 2.5 foot deep level, and had 'em jump in. I saw it on Sami's face. I knew she was struggling. And trust me -- every part of me wanted to go over there and talk her through it. But I resisted. And watched. With my heart kind of breaking just the teeniest bit to watch her be so brave because all the other kids were more experienced and not at all freaked out about jumping in. And the peer pressure. Gah! She went with it, but I could see she was NOT comfortable.
She loosened up as the lesson wore on, but I could still see discomfort. And then, the instructor had them lie on their bellies, and one at a time he kind of pulled / supported them through the water while they were supposed to be kicking. Well Sami was a champion kicker but she was so afraid of getting her face in the water that she was holding her head up so high that her feet weren't kicking up out of the water. So she was like a little propeller and knocked the stalwart young Terry right off his balance at which point he kinda dropped her and splunk, into the water she went. Face and all. She had a little freaked out look on her face, but she bucked up and was fine.
After the lesson when we got home, I asked her if she had fun. She said yes. I like to try to give her room to talk about her negative emotions without feeling all judged about it, so I said, "Man, I'd have been nervous at the beginning, though. Were you?" And she goes, "Yes Mom. I was. Actually? Right when we started I felt like I was going to cry. But I didn't."
Then she proceeded to tell me the story of her face going into the water about 3 more times over then next hour.
Took me long enough to finish this post that her second lesson came and went. Daddy took her to it. I was afraid the dropping incident might have made her a little intimidated about going back, but Daddy said she never hesitated once.
Oh, and at the nearly brand new rec center? She pronounced the restrooms a bit "old" for her taste. I've no idea.
She had fun, but I realized it would probably be good timing to get her into swimming lessons. And while she's not generally fearful of being in a pool, we just don't have many opportunities. She thinks its fun when we're all in the water together like when we visit my aunt and uncle who have a pool in their back yard. But as for braving it alone, not so much.
Enter yet another classmate's lovely mother. Her son was swimming like a little happy fish, and she admitted it was because her husband runs the rec center. In our neighborhood! Better yet, they offer to sign Sami up for lessons even though we have kind of technically missed the deadline. So we did. Great deal too -- 10 half hour lessons for 32 bucks. Twice a week. And it fit perfectly with our schedules.
So yesterday was her first lesson. For the couple of days leading up to it, she said she was excited. But as the hours gave way to minutes until we left for the center, I could see her nervousness amp up. She exhibits it by chattering nonstop. It is kind of cute. And she doesn't come by her apprehension about coming events unfamiliar to her on her own--I am exactly the same way. (We did stop by a few days prior to her lesson just to get the lay of the land. As much for goofy me as it was for her. Anyway....)
We got there and made our way to the pool area. And all I'm seeing are moms (20 years my junior) in their swimsuits with their infants. Clearly a "Mommy and Tot" class. Umm. Hmmm. Crap. We got signed up for the wrong class. Unsettling discomfort ensues. I finally cornered a sort of "in charge"-looking woman and inquired. Ah, good. There are 2 classes. They will not be forcing my pudgy whiteness into a swimsuit. Sami is properly signed up for the pre-school lesson with no parental swimming.
Sami whispers to me that she really wants her teacher to be a girl. We get Terry the Guy. Oh well, he seems really nice. This first day was only 5 kids. That was cool. But ol' Terry jumped right into it -- errr, made the precious children jump into it. He took them to about the 2.5 foot deep level, and had 'em jump in. I saw it on Sami's face. I knew she was struggling. And trust me -- every part of me wanted to go over there and talk her through it. But I resisted. And watched. With my heart kind of breaking just the teeniest bit to watch her be so brave because all the other kids were more experienced and not at all freaked out about jumping in. And the peer pressure. Gah! She went with it, but I could see she was NOT comfortable.
She loosened up as the lesson wore on, but I could still see discomfort. And then, the instructor had them lie on their bellies, and one at a time he kind of pulled / supported them through the water while they were supposed to be kicking. Well Sami was a champion kicker but she was so afraid of getting her face in the water that she was holding her head up so high that her feet weren't kicking up out of the water. So she was like a little propeller and knocked the stalwart young Terry right off his balance at which point he kinda dropped her and splunk, into the water she went. Face and all. She had a little freaked out look on her face, but she bucked up and was fine.
After the lesson when we got home, I asked her if she had fun. She said yes. I like to try to give her room to talk about her negative emotions without feeling all judged about it, so I said, "Man, I'd have been nervous at the beginning, though. Were you?" And she goes, "Yes Mom. I was. Actually? Right when we started I felt like I was going to cry. But I didn't."
Then she proceeded to tell me the story of her face going into the water about 3 more times over then next hour.
Took me long enough to finish this post that her second lesson came and went. Daddy took her to it. I was afraid the dropping incident might have made her a little intimidated about going back, but Daddy said she never hesitated once.
Oh, and at the nearly brand new rec center? She pronounced the restrooms a bit "old" for her taste. I've no idea.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
This morning:
Michael (forgetting little ears listening...): So are you buying me lunch today?
Me:Yes! I'd love to go to lunch with you.
(pause)
Sami marches over.
Sami: Why aren't you two inviting me to lunch? (I think it is funny when she calls us "you two.")
Me: Wellll, you'll be in school. Sometimes Daddy and I go to lunch together while you're in school.
Sami: Hmph.
Apparently first realization that Mommy and Daddy have any modicum of life that doesn't revolve around her.
Me:Yes! I'd love to go to lunch with you.
(pause)
Sami marches over.
Sami: Why aren't you two inviting me to lunch? (I think it is funny when she calls us "you two.")
Me: Wellll, you'll be in school. Sometimes Daddy and I go to lunch together while you're in school.
Sami: Hmph.
Apparently first realization that Mommy and Daddy have any modicum of life that doesn't revolve around her.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Today
I have "things" going on work-related that are attempting to erode any sense of creativity or fun or joy in my days. But I had to decide I can't let that happen. Hence, a quick post...
Having to not utilize day care for her first 3 years was a huge blessing. For us, for her, and for our finances. But now that she's in preschool, not suprisingly she is bringing home about a bug a month. That's okay. We expected it. And that's the only way one's immune system develops. And we've been lucky, she has only gotten sick for a day or two at a time, and none have been severe.
One hit yesterday. The sniffly nose when she woke up didn't make me get it. (Even with our whole house humidifier, the air is just crispy dry this time of year, and a stuffy nose is pretty common in this house without it being an indication of getting sick.) The lack of appetite for breakfast didn't make me get it. The willingness to sit quietly and watch tv while I bustled through a complicated breakfast prep didn't make me get it.
But later when I slowed down, I saw the ever so slight droop of the eyelids. And then when I kissed her forehead I knew. The beginning of the fever. She's finally maturing enough to mostly understand that she's sick and that it is okay to lay low for the day, and that it will be over soon.
I kept trying to con her into lying down in our bed to "watch tv" with me in the afternoon. She kept turning me down. Then later she came to me and said, "I don't feel good at all. Let's go lay down." Zowie! Then get this... she actually chose to lie in her own bed while I went to mine. She wouldn't let me close her curtains to darken her room. She had me open her windows for fresh air. She left the door open to her room. And Katie (our cat) was smack in the middle of her belly. And of course despite everything I would expect to keep her awake, she fell asleep and stayed that way for over 2 hours. And at one point goofy Jazzy (dog) went into her room to bark at God knows what like always, and it still didn't wake her. Tired, sick child.
Then last night her fever broke and today she's on the mend. Not good enough for school, but easily managed with a work from home day.
* * * * *
Does anyone care as little about the Oscars this year as me? My whole life I've loved movies. But since Sami we don't go to them any more. Still like 'em on cable or Netflix or whatever. But seriously. These people. These people seem so self-absorbed and riddled with a sense of self-importance and personal drama. Ummm, people? You pretend for a living. It isn't important.
Ooo. Ranting. Where'd that come from? Oh well, I'm proud of myself that it wasn't about work.
Having to not utilize day care for her first 3 years was a huge blessing. For us, for her, and for our finances. But now that she's in preschool, not suprisingly she is bringing home about a bug a month. That's okay. We expected it. And that's the only way one's immune system develops. And we've been lucky, she has only gotten sick for a day or two at a time, and none have been severe.
One hit yesterday. The sniffly nose when she woke up didn't make me get it. (Even with our whole house humidifier, the air is just crispy dry this time of year, and a stuffy nose is pretty common in this house without it being an indication of getting sick.) The lack of appetite for breakfast didn't make me get it. The willingness to sit quietly and watch tv while I bustled through a complicated breakfast prep didn't make me get it.
But later when I slowed down, I saw the ever so slight droop of the eyelids. And then when I kissed her forehead I knew. The beginning of the fever. She's finally maturing enough to mostly understand that she's sick and that it is okay to lay low for the day, and that it will be over soon.
I kept trying to con her into lying down in our bed to "watch tv" with me in the afternoon. She kept turning me down. Then later she came to me and said, "I don't feel good at all. Let's go lay down." Zowie! Then get this... she actually chose to lie in her own bed while I went to mine. She wouldn't let me close her curtains to darken her room. She had me open her windows for fresh air. She left the door open to her room. And Katie (our cat) was smack in the middle of her belly. And of course despite everything I would expect to keep her awake, she fell asleep and stayed that way for over 2 hours. And at one point goofy Jazzy (dog) went into her room to bark at God knows what like always, and it still didn't wake her. Tired, sick child.
Then last night her fever broke and today she's on the mend. Not good enough for school, but easily managed with a work from home day.
* * * * *
Does anyone care as little about the Oscars this year as me? My whole life I've loved movies. But since Sami we don't go to them any more. Still like 'em on cable or Netflix or whatever. But seriously. These people. These people seem so self-absorbed and riddled with a sense of self-importance and personal drama. Ummm, people? You pretend for a living. It isn't important.
Ooo. Ranting. Where'd that come from? Oh well, I'm proud of myself that it wasn't about work.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Our Holidays
This was the first Christmas since Sami was born that Michael didn't have to work on Christmas day. What a treat! Our Christmas was simple and sweet. It was just the 3 of us, and we scaled back on spending like most people I know.
Sami's Aunt Bec did her usual overachievement in the gift-giving department much to Sami's (and our) delight. Sam started opening her gifts around 8:30 in the morning and by 11am was still at it. Not that she had that many (well... except for from Aunt Bec), but because she was so deliberate in her gift-opening. She really took the time this year to understand who each gift was from, and she was so gracious about each of them. Making thoughtful comments and really looking each one over, and then exclaiming heartfelt thank-yous with many "It was just just what I wished fors" sprinkled in.
Her "big" gift this year was a classic Radio Flyer red wagon. She hadn't expressed any previous interest in one, and I'll admit it was self-serving -- but she was thrilled with it and said, "I saw one on tv before and I really wished for one!" Even though she had never actually mentioned one before. I wanted it because I missed the days when I could plunk her into her stroller and take long walks on nice days to either go to the library or grocery store or whatever. And now that she can bike and ride her scooter, she always wants to do that on the long walks. Or she'd just walk. But inevitably we'd get to our destination and halfway home she'd peter out and ask me to carry her bike or scooter. Or her. None of which is an option with my hurty hips. Well, and she weighs over 40 pounds now. So... this is a way for us to head out on long walks again with a vessel for bringing home groceries, books, and 4 year olds too tired to walk any further. We already got to use it on New Years Day (almost 60 degrees! woo hoo!) when we all went out for nearly 3 hours of walking and playing at the parks.
Other big hits for her were a realistic dolly named Lilly Bragg and all the accoutrements. We took Lilly in the wagon with us to the big park and left her in the wagon bundled in a blanket while we walked to the opposite end of the park. Later we ran into a guy that had walked by it and when he figured out that it was ours, he told us how it freaked him out when he came upon it because he thought someone had abandoned their baby in the wagon. Funny stuff.
She also got the Candy Land Castle game. This one is a gem for no other reason than it plays quickly. A whole game with 3 players takes less than 5 minutes. Anyone who has suffered through the regular Candy Land board game with a 3 or 4 year old knows why that is a very good thing indeed.
Her daddy found her a Princess bouncy ball. (What are these things supposed to be called anyway? A hippity hoppity ball? I don't know.) The kind with the handle on it where they sit on it and then bounce along? Well good grief. She has lived on that thing ever since. We have plenty of open space in the house for bouncing. And she even bounces all the way to the park. About 3 days after receiving it, as I was drying her off from her shower and dried her legs, she goes, "Ouch. My legs hurt from bouncing." She actually had sore muscles from it. :-) She takes it in her room at night while she's sleeping. She has taken it into the bath with her. She loves the thing.
She also got other small things: a stamper set, replenished paints, bath gels, etc.
Sami and I got Michael 2 books about the Corsair planes and their pilots, like his dad flew in WW2. And some new slippers for his delicate little feet lest they suffer from the debilitating cold of our hardwood floors. :-D And a watch. And a few bottles of "nicer" wines.
And perhaps most importantly of all, I got a GORgeous gold bracelet. Michael has bought me a couple of others over the years, and for some reason I seem to be a bit hard on my jewelry, and both of them have long since broken. This one is heavy and strong and I can wear it all the time without fear of wearing it out in a few months. And I have a couple of "charms" that I want to put on it. A heart that signified our wedding, and a teensy gold ring with Sami's birthstone in it. So that thrilled me. Oh, and he's learning to catch my hints -- I also got new oven mitts. Fancy ones. And some new kitchen towels that he deemed necessary for my "gourmet" cooking. He fancies the idea of me throwing one over my shoulder while cooking ala Emeril.
So all the gifts were nice? But it truly was just the family time that rocked our Christmas and New Years. I worked until 2pm on Christmas Eve, then we came home and had a fairly simple dinner and got Sami to bed early. I HAD NOT WRAPPED A SINGLE GIFT BEFORE THAT NIGHT. Honestly. What was I thinking? But time was not in abundance this year. Anyway, so then I lit into that task, and Michael assembled the wagon. And the wee replica of the big wagon. And when we were done, we arranged everything under the tree and it looked so beautiful. I actually like the idea of having gifts under the tree ahead of time so that the excitement builds for Christmas morning. But with our crazy chewing Katie the cat and the rambunctiuus Jazzy the dog, it seemed best to put them all out at the last minute this year. Oh, and thanks Katie for chewing through the prelit Christmas tree lights so that my only-2-year-old tree now has 3 bands of darkness. Just what I wanted. A stripey Christmas tree.
On the night of Christmas day, we had a very special dinner of prime rib roast with a really good bottle of wine.
I took a vacation day for the day after Christmas too, and while I really wanted to take the tree down, Sami and Michael prevailed. Alas, it is STILL up. Maybe tonight. I'm really quite over it at this point.
For New Year's Eve we again had an (if I do say so myself) a fairly simple dinner that turned out amazing. I made shrimp and pasta, but I poached the shrimp in a buerre monte butter sauce (I find it spelled both ways on the interwebs -- buerre and beurre. So whatever.) that I read about on another blog earlier in the week. Woo. Tasty stuff. Then another early bedtime for Sami. Michael and I opened a bottle of champagne and actually made it all the way to midnight this year to toast in the new year.
New Year's Day was when we enjoyed being outside for most of the midday. It was so beautiful and unseasonably warm. Then that afternoon we had an early dinner of surf (wee lobster tails) and turf (ribeyes). At the end of this dinner we were sated and just sitting there basking in the enjoyment of it. And reflecting on how much good food we had enjoyed beginning at Thanksgiving when it seemed like every single thing turned out so good. On through to all the other meals we'd just had in the past week. And then we talked about how blessed we are and I always have to offer up how grateful I am that we're all healthy. (Especially in the face of some heartbreaking news a co-worker received about a child relative.) And that we're both still employed (so far). And that for now, we're still able to pay our bills and buy groceries whenever we want. Yes, times are tough. We're deinitely in cut-back mode. And we're certainly not likely to ever complete the dream scenarios we had laid out 3 years ago for our housing plans, but it is what it is and we're doing fine.
Sami's Aunt Bec did her usual overachievement in the gift-giving department much to Sami's (and our) delight. Sam started opening her gifts around 8:30 in the morning and by 11am was still at it. Not that she had that many (well... except for from Aunt Bec), but because she was so deliberate in her gift-opening. She really took the time this year to understand who each gift was from, and she was so gracious about each of them. Making thoughtful comments and really looking each one over, and then exclaiming heartfelt thank-yous with many "It was just just what I wished fors" sprinkled in.
Her "big" gift this year was a classic Radio Flyer red wagon. She hadn't expressed any previous interest in one, and I'll admit it was self-serving -- but she was thrilled with it and said, "I saw one on tv before and I really wished for one!" Even though she had never actually mentioned one before. I wanted it because I missed the days when I could plunk her into her stroller and take long walks on nice days to either go to the library or grocery store or whatever. And now that she can bike and ride her scooter, she always wants to do that on the long walks. Or she'd just walk. But inevitably we'd get to our destination and halfway home she'd peter out and ask me to carry her bike or scooter. Or her. None of which is an option with my hurty hips. Well, and she weighs over 40 pounds now. So... this is a way for us to head out on long walks again with a vessel for bringing home groceries, books, and 4 year olds too tired to walk any further. We already got to use it on New Years Day (almost 60 degrees! woo hoo!) when we all went out for nearly 3 hours of walking and playing at the parks.
Other big hits for her were a realistic dolly named Lilly Bragg and all the accoutrements. We took Lilly in the wagon with us to the big park and left her in the wagon bundled in a blanket while we walked to the opposite end of the park. Later we ran into a guy that had walked by it and when he figured out that it was ours, he told us how it freaked him out when he came upon it because he thought someone had abandoned their baby in the wagon. Funny stuff.
She also got the Candy Land Castle game. This one is a gem for no other reason than it plays quickly. A whole game with 3 players takes less than 5 minutes. Anyone who has suffered through the regular Candy Land board game with a 3 or 4 year old knows why that is a very good thing indeed.
Her daddy found her a Princess bouncy ball. (What are these things supposed to be called anyway? A hippity hoppity ball? I don't know.) The kind with the handle on it where they sit on it and then bounce along? Well good grief. She has lived on that thing ever since. We have plenty of open space in the house for bouncing. And she even bounces all the way to the park. About 3 days after receiving it, as I was drying her off from her shower and dried her legs, she goes, "Ouch. My legs hurt from bouncing." She actually had sore muscles from it. :-) She takes it in her room at night while she's sleeping. She has taken it into the bath with her. She loves the thing.
She also got other small things: a stamper set, replenished paints, bath gels, etc.
Sami and I got Michael 2 books about the Corsair planes and their pilots, like his dad flew in WW2. And some new slippers for his delicate little feet lest they suffer from the debilitating cold of our hardwood floors. :-D And a watch. And a few bottles of "nicer" wines.
And perhaps most importantly of all, I got a GORgeous gold bracelet. Michael has bought me a couple of others over the years, and for some reason I seem to be a bit hard on my jewelry, and both of them have long since broken. This one is heavy and strong and I can wear it all the time without fear of wearing it out in a few months. And I have a couple of "charms" that I want to put on it. A heart that signified our wedding, and a teensy gold ring with Sami's birthstone in it. So that thrilled me. Oh, and he's learning to catch my hints -- I also got new oven mitts. Fancy ones. And some new kitchen towels that he deemed necessary for my "gourmet" cooking. He fancies the idea of me throwing one over my shoulder while cooking ala Emeril.
So all the gifts were nice? But it truly was just the family time that rocked our Christmas and New Years. I worked until 2pm on Christmas Eve, then we came home and had a fairly simple dinner and got Sami to bed early. I HAD NOT WRAPPED A SINGLE GIFT BEFORE THAT NIGHT. Honestly. What was I thinking? But time was not in abundance this year. Anyway, so then I lit into that task, and Michael assembled the wagon. And the wee replica of the big wagon. And when we were done, we arranged everything under the tree and it looked so beautiful. I actually like the idea of having gifts under the tree ahead of time so that the excitement builds for Christmas morning. But with our crazy chewing Katie the cat and the rambunctiuus Jazzy the dog, it seemed best to put them all out at the last minute this year. Oh, and thanks Katie for chewing through the prelit Christmas tree lights so that my only-2-year-old tree now has 3 bands of darkness. Just what I wanted. A stripey Christmas tree.
On the night of Christmas day, we had a very special dinner of prime rib roast with a really good bottle of wine.
I took a vacation day for the day after Christmas too, and while I really wanted to take the tree down, Sami and Michael prevailed. Alas, it is STILL up. Maybe tonight. I'm really quite over it at this point.
For New Year's Eve we again had an (if I do say so myself) a fairly simple dinner that turned out amazing. I made shrimp and pasta, but I poached the shrimp in a buerre monte butter sauce (I find it spelled both ways on the interwebs -- buerre and beurre. So whatever.) that I read about on another blog earlier in the week. Woo. Tasty stuff. Then another early bedtime for Sami. Michael and I opened a bottle of champagne and actually made it all the way to midnight this year to toast in the new year.
New Year's Day was when we enjoyed being outside for most of the midday. It was so beautiful and unseasonably warm. Then that afternoon we had an early dinner of surf (wee lobster tails) and turf (ribeyes). At the end of this dinner we were sated and just sitting there basking in the enjoyment of it. And reflecting on how much good food we had enjoyed beginning at Thanksgiving when it seemed like every single thing turned out so good. On through to all the other meals we'd just had in the past week. And then we talked about how blessed we are and I always have to offer up how grateful I am that we're all healthy. (Especially in the face of some heartbreaking news a co-worker received about a child relative.) And that we're both still employed (so far). And that for now, we're still able to pay our bills and buy groceries whenever we want. Yes, times are tough. We're deinitely in cut-back mode. And we're certainly not likely to ever complete the dream scenarios we had laid out 3 years ago for our housing plans, but it is what it is and we're doing fine.
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