Carter thinks the toothbrush (and the act of toothbrushing) is AMAZING. He also discovered Ava's towel, which has an embroidered little girl on it and says "ava" underneath and looked at it this morning with an expression of total wonder. Today is Little Dippers. This is a mommy-and-me type playgroup, based on the Waldorf educational philosophy, and is always interesting -- there are about 10 toddlers plus a few babies, and a bunch of Waldorf toys (more on that later) and the potential for some very interesting interactions. Unfortunately, it is in the AM, depriving Carter of his morning nap, but we'll make up for that later.

Ah. It is 7:15, and they are asleep. I am very close to that state myself. It was a long day. Not bad, just long. We did not leave the house, and that is tough—nothing to break up the day. There was plenty to do, especially since everyone ate at a different time, thus there were way more than 3 meals to make and clean up, and I am also desperately trying to get the basement cleaned up and organized, so there was a great deal of up and down with that. I put the Johnny jump up on the I-beam in the basement, and this allowed me to stay down there with the kids a lot longer than normal. It was really fun for him as there was not a door jamb in sight, and he could really get going. And then of course Ava would periodically blow by him on some mission or another, giving him some good acceleration, both linear and centripetal. It is very helpful to have a stash of toys down there that she can raid, as well as some of her little push/pull wagon type things. As long as I remember to haul her upstairs to use the potty, we are all set.

But both of them had had it by 4 PM, and up we went. Carter was starting to fuss, and nothing was satisfying him, so the evening chores were sort of put aside for a bit—I called Peter and asked him to come home late and fend for himself dinner-wise, because I had no idea how I was going to convince Carter to sit and play for another half hour while I made dinner. After a half hour of trying to please him to no avail, Jack’s Big Music Show came on, and we all danced around – getting me big smiles from both kids, at which point Carter was sufficiently exhausted that he fell asleep. I scrambled to get dinner for Ava and myself prepared, picked up Ava’s various debris, and actually sat down for a second, and then he cried. A whopping half hour of sleep. And he really did not stop crying for the rest of the evening. At one point I looked at the clock, and it said 6:00. Then I looked again after some excruciating length of time, and it said 6:04. It is times like those that you just cannot believe it. I seriously wondered if the clock might be broken. I finally remembered the naked trick, and put him on his changing mat on the floor in his altogether. This made him quite happy, and I got Ava to finish her corn and edamame, ran a bath, and cleaned up the dishes. Then I looked over at the little guy. He was peeing all over himself. This is part of the calculated risk inherent in the naked trick, and I obviously miscalculated. He used to have his little peepee teepees, but they don’t stay on now that he has wandering hands. (thanks rox, they were great!). So, there he is, guaranteeing himself a bath, something that I thought I had dodged. First Carter, then Ava. That occupied her nicely and Carter played peekaboo with me, and at 6:40 I pulled the plug on the day’s activities and piled them all into bed. Phew.

Yesterday we went to Whiteface so that Ava could ski, and she managed one and a half runs with Peter before face-planting. I could see her coming down the hill saying “MOMMMMYYY” and so I ran out of the lodge with Carter, who was in the middle of a profound bowel movement and none to pleased to have to interrupt it to step outside in the cold, scooped my sobbing heap of ski gear up in my free arm and made for the warmth of the building. And then I very nearly sustained the concussion of my life when a well intentioned person inside tried to help by opening the door. But the door opens out, and I could not see her, and had no idea that just as I was about to reach for the door she was going to push it into my head. Oh well. Ava continued to sob as I unearthed her, layer by layer, saying that she got a face-full, and then she suddenly stopped, looked around, and without a hint of a tear said “can I have French fries?”

We managed to get fries, relaxed a bit with Adrian and his mom Chrissy, and then headed home, hitting Price Chopper on the way. Dad attended that shopping spree, so it was a little easier, but he kept taking Ava on adventures around the store, leaving me without a cart. So I would have to traipse around with a bunch of groceries in my arms and Carter on my back, looking for my family. We got home, made bratwurst, and collapsed. Much like tonight.

So, now I am going to settle in with them and my book. I am reading Katharine Graham’s autobiography. This is a ridiculously long book, with teeny tiny print, but it is actually interesting and engaging. It is pretty curious—here she is, writing about her life and her mom’s life in the early part of the 20th century, and she writes about all of these incredibly accomplished women—women owning businesses, scholars, artists, etc. Her mother, who did not grow up privileged, hauled herself off to Barnard, got her degree, then became a journalist as well as an expert on Chinese art, all before the first world war. And it just goes on and on—when Katharine graduates from college, she trots off to San Francisco and joins a newspaper there where there are plenty of other women working as journalists, her father buys the Washington Post and is in direct competition with a paper owned by a woman, etc. I am reading this, thinking, huh. How is it that we don’t hear about all of these women in the work force, long before Rosie the Riveter, and way before the 70s when women apparently entered in droves? I understand that these were exceptions, and that women were and still are discriminated against, among other things, but it certainly would have been nice to at least know about these women before now. Perhaps I have been under a large rock, but it seems that there is a bit of a disconnect here. Obviously, Katharine Graham and Betty Friedan never had a long chat. (All this said, I am still not very far into the book, and have not even reached the 1950s).

So, on Thursday Ava went to her first dance class. The teacher bent the rules a bit, as the students are supposed to be 3—this was a trial run to see if Ava could handle it. Could she handle it?? Are you kidding? She has been waiting for this her whole life! Anyway, we get there huffing and puffing as it is the top floor of a 3 story building, Carter was in the backpack, and Ava decided that she needed to be carried up the stairs which were “a little bit tough,” and join our fellow dancers in the changing area—2 other kids, both close to 4. Ava was a bit intimidated, but ran like the dickens when one of them said “come on Ava!” (this was Sylvie, a friend from Little Dippers, who is now in preschool and thus a goddess to Ava). So, she goes into the studio, and I follow with Carter and the 2 girls are sitting around the teacher and Ava marches right into their midst and plunks herself down directly in front of the teacher, about oh, 5 inches from her, and looks up at her like “I’m here! What are we gonna do? Mom? Who’s mom?” The other girls were a bit like “who exactly does she think she is?” Fortunately they knew the little kid routine and were blessedly indulgent. I chat a bit with Leanne, and then go to the sidelines. So, they get started. First they form a circle, and SHE LOOKED SOOOO CUTE! She had on a green shirt and pink leggingish pants and a pink tutu that just underscored how little she was compared to the other kids. I am so used to seeing her with her peers that I was oblivious to how little she is. She was about 8 inches shorter, and just petite all around, comparatively. So, there they are and she is looking up at the teacher with these huge eyes and gaping mouth, so ready to absorb whatever is going to come out of this woman’s mouth—and don’t you know it, they start with “if you’re happy and you know it.” She looked over at me with an expression that basically said “I am going to absolutely die of excitement right now!” But true to her Ava nature, she just watched open mouthed for the first little bit, then slowly decided to clap her hands. Then they had to stop their feet—she carefully stepped, always looking at the others to see if it was right. Then they had to really dance—jumping and twirling and twisting—and she finally let loose all of her excitement and totally exploded in a frenzy of movement with this huge smile plastered on her face and she was running and jumping and twirling and all the while watching herself in the mirror or the teacher. Then they got to be animals. They had to line up and were supposed to basically do follow the leader, but this was hard for her—she kept treating it as a race and would run to the front, so she could be next to the teacher. First they were penguins, then they were cats. The cats were a huge hit, the penguins a bit harder. Then they were something that skipped. Ava is a huge fan of skipping, though she can’t do it—she gallops instead—so she galloped all over the room in pure joy. Then they were ostriches. This caused me some worry, as I thought she would fall on her head, but she was ok. Then they played “late last night” which is a song about someone sneaking different shoes on one’s feet, and then the kids roleplay (rollerskates, flip flops, hiking boots, spaceboots, etc). Then the hard part started, where Leanne lined them up and went through the 5 ballet positions. Ava’s kinesthetic awareness is limited still—it is hard to tell her to put her heels together and her toes apart without her heels coming apart too. But she tried, though she did come over to me a couple of times. And finally the last dance—the butterfly dance. The prep work for this was long, and Leanne lost Ava’s attention. She just did not want to be in her chrysalis. When Leanne asked Ava what color her wings were going to be, Ava said “like this” and started wiggling her fingers. This was confusing to Leanne, and then Ava said “I have hair clips in.” Uh-huh. She was so spent, I think she totally forgot what was going on. The other girls were looking at her like, get on with it! Leanne rallied and said your butterfly can be skin colored(basing this on the wiggling fingers), and Ava was in agreement. But as soon as the butterfly started flying, Ava was all over it. Class ended and we were invited back, so we were all happy. We got into the car though and Ava clearly was exhausted.

I have to admit it, I was teary watching her—she was so cute, bouncing along, and her excitement was so palpable, and she was so little.

Today we went to St. Lawrence University’s equestrian center. It was neat for Ava, and has some potential as a riding opportunity in the future, but it was a lot of driving for an hour of scratching a horse. Carter was totally blown away. I think he was just astonished that dogs could get that big. He has just figured Rose out, and I don’t think he has any idea that there are other animals. He knows Rose’s name, which is neat. If we say ‘where’s Rose?’ he will look in her direction. He also has object permanence down—if something falls past his line of vision, he will look over the edge of his seat for it. And if Ava is hiding behind the shower curtain, he knows she is there, and he will totally crack up when she pops out at him (yes, we all go to the bathroom together. I am so looking forward to a visit by myself 10 years from now). And he does his own peekaboo with the bath towel, like he did the other day—he grabs the edge and yanks it up over his face and back down really fast and laughs and laughs. I put him on the floor today and he showed real initiative in movement. No tremendous success, but at least he is getting the idea. It helps to put a zweibeck out of reach. He is very capable of moving himself all over the floor in a series of rolls and twists, but sitting up is still beyond him. But put something he wants close to him and he will move heaven and earth to get it. He is very very vehement in his reaching. Absolutely determined—mouth agapes, eyes wide, feet kicking like crazy. And he will push you away if you are preventing the goal too. It is weird—he just seems like he made this huge leap in the past week. He totally imitates movement—Ava was patting him, and he reached over and patted her. Exactly the same way. He also can make a clicking sound and make raspberries. That is not earth shattering, but fun all the same. But boy can he wail. As soon as he wants Mom, and realizes I am not there, look out. And it is so heartwrenching. It is a scream/sob type thing, which is so uncharacteristic of him, I always pause and wonder if he is hurt.

Speaking of screams, Ava had a full blown tantrum this evening. She had a corn toastie (an aside, Thomas’ changed the formula and they are positively disgusting now), and did not like it, so I asked her “Ava, do you want any more of this?” “No.” “Are you sure? Because I am going to give it to Rose.” “Yes.” “OK.” Oh, BIG mistake. Granted, I knew it might be, but I am a bit tired of the no, I don’t want it, yes I do routine. So Rose ate it. And then the screaming started. You would have thought that I had fed Rose the body and blood of Christ. She lost her mind. Nothing would help, she just stood there in tears, screaming through clenched teeth, and then running over to Rose, falling to her knees, arms outstretched, saying “please give me back my corn toastie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Clearly it was a vehicle for all of the days accumulated stress, but my god. I just went about my business, hugging her when she wanted one, and otherwise ignoring her. Just when I thought it had ended, I would try to introduce logic, and it would start up again, so I gave up and put the teletubbies web site on, and let her decide to join in the fun when she was ready. Meanwhile, Carter has somehow managed to fall asleep in my arms. Unbelievable. Eventually it ended, and we explored the pbskids.org website a bit and out of the blue, at 7 PM she announce she was ready for bed. My total anal retentiveness regarding their sleep does actually pay off sometimes. If I can say anything, it is that I will move heaven and earth to make sure they get adequate sleep. Barring tranquilizers of course.

Ava, Carter, Dad and I all trekked to tumbling yesterday. Well, the 3 of us met Peter there. All was great until one of the kids unearthed a poorly hidden stash of hula hoops. As soon as one came out, all of the toddlers went nuts, and ambushed Donna's stash. Ava was thrilled, and immediately wanted me to roll it so that she could chase it. Problem was, I was feeding Carter. Dad was not allowed to roll it, and so I gave it my best shot. However, it did not roll straight, nor did it roll far, upsetting Ava tremendously. Thank goodness Donna called all of the kids over for some impromptu hula hoop play, and led them in a few games. Then she had all of the parents line up and roll the hula hoops across the gym so that the kids could chase it. Peter was allowed to do it this time, and he rolled it brilliantly--straight and far, and Ava took off. Then Sam's hula hoop took a sharp left, right into Ava's path. KABOOM! Sam and Ava collided spectacularly. They are both in that toddler phase where large objects coming at you are invisible if you are focused on something else. Sam's shoulder nailed Ava's nose. Ava collapsed in a puddle of tears and wails, indicating that it really hurt, since she has been known to split her lip open in this class and not even notice she is having so much fun. So, I ran over, and scooped her up--Carter in my left arm, and Ava in my right--somewhere in this there was a bottle, but I can't figure out what I was holding it with. Peter took Carter and Ava and I went to the sidelines. She took a while, but was eventually ok, and after everyone left, Mary (the other tumbling teacher) got the scooters out and let Ava give them a shot. I had an instant flashback to the only gym class that I ever liked--those scooters are so fun--and Ava became a very happy camper.

My shoulders are going to fall off soon though. They just constantly hurt. I think I do actually have bursitis in the left one, but now they are both pretty sore. Holding these kids takes a toll! Though my arms and shoulders look GREAT. Even Peter commented that I had nice shoulders. I have to be thankful for that.

I have a new policy. I promise that when we arrive home from all of our outings in the afternoon, everything will go on the kitchen table (diaper bags, groceries, car garbage, coats, hats, mittens, baby carriers, etc.) and I will sit down and play with the kids for at least 1/2 hour. Chores be damned. This worked wonders for Ava's attitude yesterday. I have taken the "when I just finish this and this and this, I can play with you approach" with her, but when I am ready to play, she is usually emotionally spent. So, I will just have to swallow my anxiety about getting all of the chores done before 7 PM, and ignore the gargantuan mess that is our house.

Oh, and so I made this big hullaballoo about Carter and eating. Well, now he is on a solids strike. He still does appear to like his one bottle of formula, as he always takes a taste and looks up at me like "huh. this is pretty tasty" -- I don't appreciate some of the looks I get for it, but I think nursing Ava at tumbling yesterday removed any lingering doubts among the breastfeeding advocates as to whether or not I was committed to the cause. Then of course I had to figure out how to mollify the anti-nursing toddler folks. Whatever. Carter likes it, and he will not nurse in public, so formula it is.

He does this funny thing when I am holding him--he basically tries to latch on to my nose or chin--this ends up being a total goo-fest, but it is really cute, because he will hold my face in his hands and shake his head back and forth with his mouth open, getting my chin or nose in his mouth with each pass, saying AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH at the same time. Then he will finally stop, really latch on to my chin and we will be eye to eye to eye to eye, and he will say AARRRRHHHHHHH with my face in his mouth and then start laughing hysterically. I think this is his version of a kiss.

So, the thing with mushing yogurt into her hands (see previous post, not sure which one) is fast becoming a habit for Ava. Today, while she was in her car seat, I handed her a banana, a new favorite and a mom-pleaser since they are so filling. Anyway, she gets nice and quiet for about 3 minutes when she announces “mom, I am washing the windows!” –yes, with the banana. She then decided that it would be more effective to make a paste out of the banana, and just mushed and mushed and mushed while I drove along, desperate for a pull-out, any pullout. Later, while eating carrots and hummus she said the now ominous “mom, look at me!” and there she was, mushing hummus into her hands. I have to say that I was very proud of myself—I never got mad, and simply asked her why she did that. She then gave her typical response: “yes.” This drives me nuts. I think it is the toddler version of “-cause.” It makes me have to prompt her, which I hate, because I never know if she is agreeing with me because it sounds good to her, or because I really have hit the nail on the head. I asked her if it felt good to mush things in her hands, and she said yes. So, fine. More hand washing, some cursory wiping of the furniture, and we were good to go.

Speaking of “why” – we are solidly in the whys. Glad to be out of the wheres, but I was proud of her that she was so intent on having a geographical location for everything. Including very abstract concepts. She still asks where things are, but not quite as much. Now it is why. Often I do have an answer—questions such as why does a monkey have a tail are relatively easy, others, like why does Elmo not have a tail, are a bit harder, but the problem is that she asks them again and again. It is not the well known follow-up why, but rather the same freaking question again. I think it is a ploy for more conversation, since she also asks me to talk about things over and over. “Mommy, can you talk about this that or the other thing?”

Her language is really through the roof, and she mimics so many of my expressions, but she still say a ‘t’ sound for a hard ‘c’ – so cat sounds like ‘tat’, Corey’s sounds like “toys” (totally confusing my parents who live on Corey’s road and she was asking them over and over where Corey’s was, and they kept answering that her toys were right there, in the toy box, and she was like NO! TORYS!, in a tone of voice that pretty much conveys that she thinks you are a total imbecile. They finally got it.). Anyway, she refers to Michaela’s boyfriend Carlos as Tarloses, pluralizing him in the process and Michaela as Tella. Sometimes MiTella. And of course, there is Carter, who is Tartar, leading me to refer to his incessant spit up as Tarter Sauce.

Ah, the spit up. So, I learned the hard way that it is not smart to nurse your child in the grocery store parking lot (in a car in the grocery store parking lot), put him face out in a baby bjorn, and go waltzing through the produce aisle. He projectile vomited about 5 different times. Thank GOD he never actually hit an edible item, but it still did not endear me to the shoppers or staff at Price Chopper. They hate me there anyway, as I have accosted them with my new-mom righteous anger more than once when they have forgotten to ask me for my discount card. Anyway, I have not subjected the patrons of the grocery store to any more spit up after that incident—until today. Yup, there we were, sucking down a bottle in the parking lot, got out the ol’ backpack, buckled him in, put Ava in the cart and trekked on into the store. Buhluuuurpp…I asked Ava if he had spit up. “ummmm…just a little” – “a little? Are you sure” “yup! Just a little bit” OK. 5 minutes later, I decide to scrunch down to take a peek into the mirror that is above all of the vegetables. Oh God. I have been walking around with spit up all over his face, all over the front of the back pack where he has been sucking on it, all down my side and leg, with the largest glop of it right on my left butt cheek. La di da, here I am, blissfully wearing vomit on my ass for all to see. Ugh. I swear they see me at that store and are like, oh no, here’s the crazy mom again.

Though it is a great learning environment for Ava. I was bundling Carter at the exit, having made it through check out, and Ava was in the cart, and suddenly she started yelling “MOM! MOM! That 4 is BLINKING!!!!” (Aisle 4 needed help, and thus had put her little #4 lamppost on blink mode). It was clearly a very exciting moment for a 2-year old.

Her imagination is so amazing. She will make anything up. She was in the tub, and said “mom—look at my Christmas lights (or, rather Tistmas Lights)—this is a tree—aren’t they pretty?” We are talking about a white tub, with NO toys in it (I am not mean, she just does not want toys because they “bother” her). And the other night she had me in hysterics when she put 2 baby carrots on her head and said “I am a goat!” It goes on and on.

She has started screaming at me when she doesn’t like something. This is just awful, but better than a tantrum. But it still makes me so mad. Between that and jumping on the bed when Carter is lying on it, not to mention grabbing at him in a flurry of frenzied energy, she has earned her fair share of time outs. I try so hard to treat these as ‘time to reflect,” but it really is not coming across that way. I know that I am definitely a hard-ass, and just clamp down at the merest hint of what I think is mean or disrespectful behavior. This surprises me, since so many of my previous employers never put me on a management track because they did not think I was authoritative enough and I never asked to be on one. But I just can’t bear the idea of her being mean. I let a lot of stuff slide (let’s walk outside in just our socks; yes, you can wear pjs for clothes today; go ahead, put banana all over my car window; emptying the water cooler into 26 different containers on the floor because the dog needs water even though she has a perfectly good water bowl is fine; yes, you can tinkle outside just this once; NO YOU MAY NOT POOP OUTSIDE; sure, go ahead and cover the dog with every blanket you can find; another lollypop? Sure! etc), but the notion of disobedience just to be mean or defiant drives me nuts. I started in on her today, holding her hands and looking at her in the eyes, vehemently saying “it is important to be NICE, Ava, blah blah blah…The whole point of being a human being on this earth is to be the nicest person that you can be! That is the goal of life. That is what you have to work towards. That is what…oh great. Lost her again.” Why do I keep launching into these fits of philosophic musings when I am talking to my 2 year old???

She responded with “Now I am a nice girl, mommy.” Yes, you are Ava.

Carter did the cutest thing today. I lay him down on the bed to change him, and let him lie there with only his diaper on so that he could play with his feet, and he sort of turned and reached for the comforter, and started pulling it over his head. (I was not concerned with suffocation as I was right there). Anyway, he got it totally over his head and just started giggling. Then he got quiet, and so I said “where’s Carter?” and he totally cracked up and started flailing his arms and legs around. Then I pulled it up and said “peekaboo” and he laughed again, and then he covered his face again and I said “where’s Carter?” and again—totally cracked up. I was so proud of him!

I am so dying for him to sit up. He almost has it, but still will tip over without putting an arm out, clunking his head on the ground if I let him. He wants to and is trying, but it will be another few weeks I think. But he is making all sorts of noises, including “mamamamamamamama” when he cries. I like to think he is referring to me, but I think that is a bit narcissistic. But he obviously knows his name, Ava’s name, and Rosie’s name. Rose is a huge favorite. She is more interactive with him than she was with Ava—she has not problem wandering over for a scratch when I am holding him, and Carter just loves it—he pets her and laughs at her, and she patiently takes it. I think she is thinking that it is best to get on his good side now, as the high-chair days are not far off. She remembers Ava’s donations well, I think. Now she gets nothing from Ava—if something hits the floor or if she comes too close to Ava’s food, Ava bellows NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ROSE! Though Ava is good for about 20 mini dog bones in the morning. The dog is so patient with her—she is Ava’s little project. Ava plays vet with her, and Rose just patiently stares me down while getting her boobies checked.

We are all snuggled up in the bed right now. Carter on my right, and Ava on my left. They are sound asleep. I just cannot leave them at night. Even if they did not wake up terrified when they are alone, I cannot sleep if I am not there with them. I lie in bed and think about the fact that they are not within reach, should something happen. Peter obviously feels a bit ignored, but he also gets the bonus of a good night’s sleep each night. I may get kicked and smushed and nuzzled and spit up on, but my kids are safe. And warm. That is no small feat when it is 30 below.

Ava went on the big lift yesterday! As in ski lift, 30 feet above the ground! I couldn't breathe as I watched Peter sit next to her. They don't exactly have car seats on those things. And then she skiied down the beginner slope 3 times! It is a big run for such a little kid. She looks so cute with her hands on her knees as she comes down the hill. Peter has her on what I call long reins, which will slow her down, but will not keep her upright, so she is learning how to balance. When things get a little hairy, he comes closer and holds the little handle on her harness, and occaisionally picks her up with it. When he does that, she goes limp and her little head hangs down and her arms dangle, and she looks just like a littly puppy or kitten being picked up and moved by its mamma. She came in the lodge about as proud of herself as she could possibly have been, and then ate a HUGE piece of cornbread. Both kids are actually getting appetites.

It seems that Carter is just constantly hungry--we have started breakfast, lunch and dinner! I think ( the lactivists would be very upset with this) that the breastmilk is just not enough--or rather, it is enough if he ate every 1/2 hour. But he does not want to, nor do I want him to! He totally sucked down a bottle of -egads!- formula yesterday, plus 3 servings of applesauce and yogurt. Plus all of the nursing. Every food item I take out of the fridge is grabbed at, and he will stare you down when you are eating. All that said, when he is tired, all he wants is good ol' mommy. He is currently curled up in the crib with Big Bird-- a very generous donation on Ava's part.

Oops, double post.

So, I became a typical mom. The other day, when Ava wasted most of her dinner, I turned to her and did the old "there are starving children in the world young lady!" -- I then went on and on, until her eyes glazed over, and realized I had lost her at 'starving.'

I put the crib together yesterday, and when Ava saw it, she said "Mom! What's this???" That just about says it all, I think.

I want to know exactly how long Carter can go with a stuffy nose before the doctor's office does not roll their eyes when I call.

Ava is convinced that she saw a moose outside her window. She has been talking about it for 2 days. It started with "mommy, where's that moose?" Needless to say, I was a bit befuddled. Finally, we got to the bottom of it--that it had been outside her window. I think she had a dream to that end. Hopefully, it comes back soon.

More on Carter's dexterity: he LOVES the taggie. This is a piece of fleece with tags--as in the sort of tags on clothing--sewn all around it. Ava thought this was neat, but not life-altering. Carter thinks it is the most fun thing in the whole wide world. Thanks, Michaela!

And then of course, he located another part of his anatomy this morning. That was a bit life-altering for him as well.

Peter took Ava skiing this morning, woohoo! Woohoo for all involved. I get to organize the basement! Yippee! Really, I am actually thrilled that I get to do this without trying to make it fun for her as well.

Carter is really adept with his hands. I noticed this right from the beginning--he immediately had a hand in his mouth. Given how scratched up he was when he was born, he apparently had a lot of time to practice. But he continues to really be good at it. He can pick things up easily, little things. And he is clearly favoring his left hand. I am secretly thrilled about this, as I am a leftie. I was a little disappointed that Ava was a righty. It is pathetic, I know, but I just wanted her to resemble me in some way. Anyway, he is very good at using both his hands and his feet to manipulate a toy to his mouth, which astonishes me. He loves his feet too. Ava was not one to goof around with her feet. He will sit there and kick while holding them with utter glee. Last night, I put him in the high chair with the tray, and tried to feed him. When Ava was little, she was interested in the spoon, but I just sort of held her hand away, and she gave up on trying to get it and just ate. Carter is like GIVE ME THE SPOON NOW!!!!!!!!!!!! So I did. And I SWEAR he was feeding himself. Of course it was a humongous mess, but really quite funny. He thought it was a blast. Then Ava asked for some yogurt, and I gave it to her. Then I looked away. I figured, she was in the chair next to me, with a plastic bowl of yogurt and a spoon, I could catch her in my peripheral vision if necessary, all was ok, back to Carter. Well, she then says "Mommy, look at me!" She was transferring yogurt to an empty jelly jar, then transferring it back with her hands to the bowl, and in the process getting her hands covered in yogurt. Then she clapped. It is amazing how far yogurt can travel in this manner. I am still discovering it scattered all over the house. Can you say Jackson Pollock?

Anyway, down to the basement I go.

This morning, Ava said "Mommy you can go to work some day. When you are a boy." Great. Please tell me that I have not already inadvertently indoctrinated my daughter.

And then, as we were returning from our errands, she said to me from the car seat "Mommy, I am very tired of being out in public." I have NO idea where she got that one, but it certainly made me laugh.

I hate the TV right now. We are confronting the notion that a show is not on exactly when you want it.

Carter farts. A LOT. He does not 'pass gas' and he certainly does not 'toot.' He lets fly with some of the most amazing volume. Problem is, it wakes him up at night. Otherwise I would just find this funny. But he wakes up pre-fart, wriggling and squirming and groaning, and there is a good minute or two of this, and then relief. For him. By this point, both Ava and I are completely awake.

He has also been fussy these days--yes, he is mellow, but after he has been awake for more than 20 minutes, he starts sort of whining--he wants to be held, or put to sleep or whatever--he has lost the "i'm just happy sitting here while you cook dinner mom" mode that he had for so long. I do think this is partly teething, and partly the cold, and partly his frustration at not being able to sit up and do things.

We made it through our day stuck at home, and today I am really looking forward to going out. I am even looking forward to the grocery store event, something I usually dread. I was pretty successful in keeping the TV off, all the way to 5 PM when Caillou is on and I really need to anesthetize Ava. She went without a nap, so both kids were sound asleep by 7:30, and I was able to get through almost all of "what do you do all day" -- good book, but makes me really miss NYC. Though I have to say, by all accounts, I am very happy to not have to deal with the mommy pressure and competition in the city. That is one of the benefits of life here in the middle of nowhere. No one bats an eye at your parenting choices here. Well, that's not true, but at least it is so isolated here that no one has to know what your parenting choices are!

i forgot: i had a dream last night that i put all of the nuks in the oven to dry, forgot about them, and melted them all into a big plastic/rubber/latex mess.

this is very pathetic. why i would even put them there is beyond me.

also, ava insists elmo is a girl -- "he is a girl" -- i know i should encourage her imagination, and this is obviously a good thing that she does not discriminate against the transgendered of the world, but i cannot get my head around it. elmo is a boy, and i am having a very hard time letting it go. he is also her "best in the world"

just some random stuff: ava calls upper case and lower case letters "up high letters" and "low down letters"

we are all a big puddle of goo and snot today, can't wait to kick the cold.

glitter glue is the best invention ever. for those who do not know what it is, it is simply clear glue with glitter in it, and contained in a pen-like dispenser. it is scads of fun, and washes away lickety-split.

and i once again failed the "goo" making effort. this is simply cornstarch and water, and all of the mommy boards say that it is SO FUN, but i have never been able to make anything fun out of it. all it does is make a HUGE mess. and when wet cornstarch dries, it is just awful.

we are obviously home-bound today. freezing rain. i am desperately trying to avoid the TV, but it is looming in the corner, constantly reminding us of how easy it would be to just turn it on.

We lost power at 4:30 AM. Ava barely flinched. Thank god, because last time it totally freaked her out. And I cannot be blamed for that, because I was not in the room when it happened. Usually, I jump, and her skittishness gets blamed on that. The fact that Carter is as mellow as he is is my saving grace. He could care less if the fire alarm goes off. Ava, on the other hand is terrified of it. I think it hurts her ears a lot.

The power came back on, all is ok. She is still limping, but not a lot. I think it is healing. I will call the doctor just to let her know, but i think we're all good.

It is positively ugly here today: grey and gross. Much like my hair. I am wearing these fabulous pjs that Rox got me from a specialty store in LA, and the combination of glamour with my ugly appearance is really awful. I should not be wearing these. I should be in a ratty t-shirt and sweats. I would at least match.

So, this morning, Ava was back to zero with the leg—she would not walk on it. The Motrin had worn off, and it clearly hurt. After another dose of medicine, she slowly started putting weight on it. I called the doctor, and she said wait through the day—if she is not better by tomorrow, off we go to be seen again. She is otherwise fine though, so that is good. We are at Nana’s house by ourselves, and Ava has just spent the last 5 minutes slathering lotion all over her. I was a little surprised to walk in and see her almost entirely white with lotion. She smells good though.

Carter fell asleep all by himself this morning—I put him in the pack and play with Tad, the musical frog (or tadpole, I suppose), and pressed the lullaby button 6 times for 6 minutes of soothing music, gave him his nuk, and 7 minutes later, he was asleep. I was astonished. Ava would never have fallen for that banana in her tailpipe. First of all, she hated lullabies for the first 2 years of her life. HATED them. If the lullaby function on Tad were accidentally turned on, she would cry and cry for it to be turned off. And then of course, putting her down anywhere, let alone a crib, was grounds for an absolute meltdown.

He is so easygoing.

Ava told me that she loved me this evening. Not “I love you too” but “I love you mommy.”

So, Dr. Monroe thinks it is muscular (calf muscle). 12 hours of Motrin, then reevaluate. She still won't walk on it.

Curiously, this muscle is one that is affected if a child has been infected with influenza-b (I think i listened correctly), and so I am supposed to pay close attention to her temperature. But she is not sick now, so the Dr. does not think that this is the case.

More mundane stuff: we made applesauce today, felt very accomplished. Ava liked the food mill. Carter is finally happy, now that he is naked. I absolutely cannot wait til bedtime. Having 2 non-ambulatory kids is very exhausting. My thighs got a decent workout though, and everyone at the hospital thought i was amazing, carrying 2 of them. My ego was satiated.

I finished The Pilot's Wife, The Mermaid Chair, and now and on "What do you do all day?" -- I tried to finish Guns Germs and Steel, but I just really need the mental soothing of an Oprah book these days.

Re the name of this blog: I am applying to a program in epidemiology, and will be doing a ton of statistics, and thus thought that was appropriate, if not a bit nerdy.

Well, i have finally set up a blog. Hopefully, this particular blog site is not 'blogs for dummies' or something like that--an indication of my total lapse in technological smarts. 2 kids will do that.

The whole point though is to have a common spot for friends and family to keep up with the life of the Days, particularly Ava and Carter--i have so little time to email, this is a much better way to reach everyone. And on a selfish level, to keep a journal of my kid's lives, like i swore i would do, and which is currently a jumble of scraps of paper in a file. Someday I will assemble it.

Iit is 10 AM, chores are almost done, Ava is pining for Mr. Rogers, which was relocated from 9 AM to 11 AM, Carter is asleep, and we are pondering what to do. Carter and I have a cold, and Ava can't walk. Not sure why, she woke up complaining that her leg hurt, and i thought it was asleep, but it has been 2.5 hours, and she still won't walk on it. I am giving it an hour or so (perhaps to the end of Mr. Rogers) and then I will call the Dr.

It is freezing out today, so no outdoor activity, which stinks. She can't walk anyway, so I suppose it is not a travesty.

More on the leg later.