2 things I need to get down for posterity:

1. Ava conquered snapping. They are quiet snaps, but real.

2. She thinks "Humpty Dumpty" is "Honkey Donkey." This inevitably makes me think of Richard Prior.

Tomorrow we leave for Austin. Yippee!

We drive to Burlington tomorrow AM, and then will spend the day there, and have a 'special night' in a hotel, and then get up at a ridiculous hour to make a 6:15 flight. I am sure I will be bursting with stories by the time we land. Today I went to the drugstore to get airplane fun things and grabbed a fistful of stickers, only to be dumbfounded when the checkout lady announced my total. Let's just say I returned 20 dollars worth of stickers. Apparently the little suckers are not so cheap when you buy in bulk. I returned the uppercase alphabet stickers, but kept the lowercase alphabet stickers. I am astounded at how truly complicated the lowercase alphabet is. Think about it--think of the written g and the print g. Do you draw a g like it appears in these sentences? And then there is little a. With the feather in its cap and without. And does l HAVE to look like big I? I guess we will have lots to think about on the plane.

Packing was an adventure. But...I have managed to whittle it down to one checked bag and 2 carry ons, plus a backpack for Ava. Cannot believe it.

Ava folded up a piece of paper in alternating strips and then held her creation aloft and said “look! I have an accordion!” I know, beyond ANY shadow of a doubt, that I have never discussed accordions with her. Nor have I done origami in any form.

Last night was very rough. I am not sure why Carter was as fussy as he was, but he cried from 5:30 til 7:30. Nothing I did would help. Holding, feeding, playing, rocking, and so on. None of it was ok. I know babies get colicky, but he is 6 ½ months! I am pretty sure he was just tired, but he would NOT go to sleep. Ava on the other hand managed to say “Mommy, I’m not tired, I can’t fall asleep, I need to….” and she was out. All while Carter was crying. She has changed so much, and now is a sleeper. Giving up the nap was the best thing she ever did. And she is quiet as a mouse when she slips into bed with me; often I don’t even know that she is there.

Carter eventually fell asleep on my tummy, and was basically catatonic. It was bliss for both of us, I believe. Every mother says this, but they are so beautiful when they are sleeping. It is not just a matter of beautiful—they are so trusting. He was completely draped over me, and so content, and I guess really the word is secure. It is such an amazing feeling to know that you are the person responsible for another human being’s sense of safety. Yes, there is that “oh, my god, I am responsible for this person’s life” moment when the kids are born, but I mean something different—I mean the feeling of awe that the little person next to you feels so protected and safe simply by being loved. It is like they are just soaking it up and sending it right back to you. And it makes you feel like you are going to explode with happiness.

This is hard to put into words.

A few mornings ago, Carter was lying in bed by himself (it is a mattress on the floor), and happened to unearth a paperback book hiding between the mattress and the wall. I could hear him in there playing, and I figured he was playing with Minnie Mouse, the love of his life, but when I heard ripping, I went in to investigate. My little bookworm had not only ripped the pages out, but had gnawed his way through about a third of the cover. Fortunately he had not choked or ruined any of the actual text, so I was able to still read it. I have been trying to instill a love of books, but this is a bit much.

The book was “Death in Summer” by William Trevor. I took a break from Katharine Graham’s autobiography and read this—it is a small little novel, at least in appearance, that ended up being both ridiculously tough to get through and riveting at the same time. You might find this hard to believe, but it is not a cheerful book. A very good book, but emotionally wrenching. And not in a hallmark sort of a way. More like in a ‘wow I am so lucky my life and the people in it are not this profoundly depressing and damaged’ sort of way. I had to flip through a magazine when I finished it just to be able to return to a normal state of mind.

Carter has found his own hair! Thank god. Perhaps now he will be less interested in mine. He pulls HARD.

The other day, Ava got out of the car at the grocery store, and in the loudest singsong voice she could muster said “I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE EATING BOOGERS!” to the tune of ‘nanny nanny boo boo’.

I came out of the bedroom today, and she was on the floor with a bunch of colored chalk, no paper or chalkboard in sight. “What are you using that chalk on?” I casually asked. “This” she said and pointed to her tights. “Your tights?” “Yes, I am making them nicer…” And she continued to color her right leg as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Carter had a bath in the big tub all by himself tonight! He is finally able to sit steadily enough that I can be on dry land while washing him. Thanks be to all that is good—my skin is so dry, the thought of crawling in a 2nd or 3rd bath at the end of the day just hurts. He found it to be pretty neat—he likes to splash.

I cannot figure him out. One day he hates the bottle, the next day he loves it. Today he would not nurse, so I made a bottle and his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of it, and he sucked the whole thing down. Yesterday it was an affront to his gourmet palate. It makes no sense.

Whatever makes people think that standing 5 inches from a child while in line at the grocery store is a good idea is beyond me. Poor Ava was in the front part of the cart, politely waiting for me to unload the groceries onto the belt and then zoom her through to the other side where the bagger was waiting, and the next person in line was really standing right on top of her. So close that the groceries she was holding were basically in Ava’s lap. Ava was CLEARLY uncomfortable. She had edged her way as far as possible to the back of her little seat and was leaning her shoulders back over the cart and had her head turned as far around as it could go, tucking her chin into her shoulder. Her eyes were darting from me to this lady, and back again. HELLO! Body language anyone? BACK OFF AND STOP SCARING MY KID! Oooooh, this bugs me so much. She is a person. Albeit a little one, but a whole person nonetheless. Who deserves respect. I told her it was ok, loudly, and the woman moved a little bit away, and then I zoomed her through. Fortunately it was not one of the scary baggers—some of them also get in her face, and there is a lot of teenage related appearance modifications that scare her. She has not yet taken a shine to black lipstick. One time a very large and very loud man said hi to her when she was only 15 months or so, and she absolutely panicked, burst into tears, etc, and he would not stop—I had to literally yell at him that he was scaring my child, and he was the one that ended up offended. Oh, the adventures we have in that store.

We have begun the official countdown to Austin. Five days to go!

Winter is hard. There are lots of good things about it, of course, but many of those things are for people older than 6 months and 2 years. We tried to go for a walk yesterday, since the temperature was above 20 degrees, which is my threshold for taking the kids outside, and it just did not go well. I managed through the struggle to get dressed warmly enough (keeping in mind that we drove to our walk, which meant doing all of the prep work in the car) and getting the stroller assembled and the backpack set up, and the first 20 minutes were reasonably pleasant as we discussed the winter activities of various wildlife creatures (I was stumped over the issue of where bald eagles go for the winter—I could not remember—but made up for it with a long explanation of how loons go to the Atlantic ocean for their getaway), but then Ava hit her limit. She did not want to walk, and she did not want to be in the stroller, and of course, we were 20 minutes away from the car. Those 20 minutes were sheer hell. For her and for me. Carter slept through it all, of course. I spent a lot of the time silently cursing the weather.

Carter has not pooped in 2 days now. I swear I will generally refrain from a lot of poop-talk in this blog, but this is remarkable. And I am sure the pending event will be even more remarkable, when it finally comes. He has learned to adore his Johnny-jump up, and he is suddenly working really hard at figuring out crawling. He can’t lift his belly off the floor, but he is trying. And he is moving his knees alternately towards his torso, but this usually results in backwards motion, so frustrating. Usually, there is a toy he is aiming for, and his irritation at watching it get farther away is palpable. He is all about food, particularly doing it himself. I have this mesh thing that you can put squishy food in and he can than mash it through the mesh, and feed himself. Usually, it is bananas or avocado, both of which stain horribly. So, I put him in an old shirt, give him his mesh masher, and let him go at it. Then I just hose him down in the sink. He likes the autonomy a lot more than dealing with me shoving a spoon in his face.

Sunday was Leena’s birthday party. I apologize for misspelling her name in previous posts, I did not know it had 2 e’s. It was quite fun, and remarkable for the fact that Ava ate a whole plate of mac-n-cheese. It was homemade mac-n-cheese (as was the soup and the chocolate cake and probably even the bread—unlike me, Heidi and Andy are on the granola honor roll), and she seemed to really adore it. It took her the full 2 hours to utter a word, other than to ask Heidi if she could play the piano, but she had a good time. She is just reserved, and slow to warm up, and not keen on lots of people. This is not a negative, as far as I am concerned, but as a fellow introvert I am certainly biased. I think the title of my first book will be “In Defense of the Introvert.”

I finally remembered what Ava calls the tabs on diapers she does not like—buckles. “I don’t like the diapers with the buckles.”

Return to Sender

Tonight Ava told me that she wanted Carter to go back in my tummy.

Just as I was allowing myself a bit of confidence that I had bridged the worst of the jealousy meanies with relatively few casualties, she pulls this one out of her bag of tricks. Ouch. Sooooo, we had a little talk about how great it is (more like will be) to have a brother, and she slowly recovered. It helped that he played a raucous game of peekaboo as we did this, cracking himself, Ava, and myself up.

This happened because I had asked her to share a toy, and when she would not (even though he had it first), I took it away. Not a brilliant tactic in the minutes before bedtime, but I had warned her before that this would happen. Oh, she was ticked. And in the middle of her tantrum she asked that Carter be returned.

And I thought that we would be tantrum free this evening. SIlly me. But at least I did not get the usual diaper revolt. This was such a tough one--she really did not want her night-time diaper on. She is diaper-free during the day, and the notion of having to put one on at night was devastating to her. And I mean devastating. That kind of crying-so-hard-I-can't-make-a-sound-and-am-going-blue-in-the-lips-but-just-you-wait-because-the-scream-that-finally-gets-out-is-going-to-be-do-loud-the-dog-is-going-to-howl devastation. And she would then scream "NO MOMMY! NO! PLEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASE DON"T PUT MY DIAPER ON!!!!!!!!!!!!" And I would be left traumatized over whether or not I was traumatizing her, and somehow ruining all of my potty training efforts (her efforts, really), and what was going to happen--should I left her wet the bed--dear god, no--ok, diaper on, and then 5 minutes later, she would be asleep. And, how did I solve this, you ask? Simple. Dora the Explorer pull-ups. (I have to note that I first wrote that as Dora the Explored. Glad I caught that typo.) Apparently, pull-ups are not the same as diapers. They do not have tabs, and thus are closer on the spectrum to underwear, and are therefore ok to put on. In fact, so ok to put on that the following morning, she told me that she wanted to put on a new one for the daytime. After a moment of almost giving up in defeat, I said "nope--night-time only". And we are free of the diaper disaster.

But not out of the woods entirely, obviously. Her issue this evening might also be due to the fact that we were cooped up yesterday all day without any power. The wind was CRAZY and blowing at 50 mph, and as it usually does, the power went out. And the temperature was dropping pretty fast. So, Mom made a fire, and we all stayed within a 15 foot radius of it, and played inside in the dark ALL DAY LONG. Fun, to an extent. I am not a fan of trying to go out and get a load of wood in 50 mph winds and sub-zero temperatures. Three times. I contemplated telling Ava to call 911 if a tree branch fell on me, but reason got the better of me. First, we had no power, and thus no phone. Duh. Second, that would just be far too much of a temptation along the lines of "I wonder what would happen if..."

Be My Valentine

Yesterday, I asked Ava if she wanted some hummus and veggies, and she said “sure mom, that would be swell!”

Where she picked that up, I have no idea. I am guessing “Jack’s Big Music Show.”

Carter is thriving on the Zantac. He seems to have relaxed when nursing, and now is overwhelmingly enthusiastic about it. I have mixed feelings about this, as I was hoping that his previous reticence might mean that he would wean earlier. I am not sure if I can cope with another child that is addicted to the whole event. But it is a huge relief to see him just settle into a meal, rather than fighting it every time. He also has a new technique for relaxing while nursing, which involves his fingers in my mouth. This is cute, and not all that irritating. His other big obsession is hair. I have no idea what is even remotely pleasurable about stuffing a fistful of hair into his mouth, but he seems to consider it a delicacy. Every chance he gets, he grabs my hair and yanks. We have already started “gentle, gentle” – it is interesting how rough he is—Ava was never like this, and still generally isn’t. Carter likes to be rolled around and generally ‘roughhoused’ (as appropriate for a 6 mo old, obviously) much more than Ava did.

I officially get the award for world’s worst valentine. Let me preface this by saying that Peter and I have set a precedent of not doing much for minor holidays like Valentines Day, and I am actually ok with this. It removes some of the pressure, and I tend to have a hard time with both presents and overt sentimentality. And then, without warning, Peter disappears into the basement and emerges with one of the Christmas gift bags that are down there waiting to be given a home, and hands it to me saying, “Happy Valentines Day.” I looked at him and said “is this a joke?” He just gave me one of his Peter looks, and so I opened it. And inside, what did I find?

An iPod.

I was truly speechless. I stood there with a million things running through my head, not the least of which was “ok Erin, you are officially a shmuck,” coupled with “what about our policy of ignoring Valentines Day?” and “I GOT AN iPOD!!!!!!!!!” I know, I know, everyone has an iPod, but that is in the real world—not in the Adirondacks where cell phone coverage is just getting real, and especially not if you have 2 small kids that arrived at roughly the same time that the iPod became a real snazzy thing to have.

Not to mention that it is not exactly on par with the usual Valentines Day type gifts—say chocolates and flowers.

Anyway, it is really cool, and I am really excited, and am slowly finding the opportunity to get started with it—I should have a song or two on it in about a week.

We went to the doctor yesterday, and I have been diagnosed with tendonitis in my rotator cuff. Advil and ice is the therapy, and if that does not work then I am supposed to go to physical therapy. Which is so not an option with the kids. I was also weighed, which thoroughly depressed me. Seems that it is true—it is harder to lose the weight after number 2. I tried to make myself feel better by attributing it to my HUMONGOUS biceps. Couldn’t possibly be the little bear belly I have.

Tumbling is today. Yippee. Maybe I should start hopping on the equipment—apparently I could use it.

So, I have made an appointment to see the doctor for my shoulder. I am finally in enough pain that I am willing to go be told that I cannot do something essential like hold my child. I took Tylenol today and it alleviated some of the peripheral, radiating pain, but not the weird feeling that there is a knife in my shoulder. So, we are going tomorrow. Yippee. My hope is actually that Dr. Frost will give me a cortisone shot and it will miraculously go away. Ava loves Dr. Frost, because he is Caroline’s daddy, and she is a friend from Little Dippers. This caused me some intense confusion before I knew this. He started talking to Ava about Caroline, and they were in a pretty deep tête-à-tête when I pulled the nurse aside and urgently asked her what they were talking about. I find it amazing that she is not intimidated by him, since he is about 10 feet tall, but she does not seem to categorize him in the same group as other large men.

Carter yammers away now, constantly talking. We are onto “blah blah blah daaa daaa naaa neee neeee neee yaa yaahh deee deee.” I only get “mamamamama” when he is upset. But it is really funny when he does talk, because he is really loud and makes this funny face when he does it, like he is trying really hard to get his point across.

Ava, for some reason, is obsessed with cafes. I think it is because there is a story line in Richard Scarry’s book “What Do People Do All Day?” about a mouse that goes to the bookstore and then is going to go to the sidewalk café to meet her friends. Since there are very few cafes in the Adirondacks, and no sidewalk cafes at all during the winter, I have been promising her that there are lots of cafes in Austin, where we are headed in March to see Grandma. She is very excited about the possibility of going to a sidewalk café, almost as excited as she is to go see Shamu. As for myself I am VERY excited to go somewhere warm and hip. Just the possibility of seeing a bookstore, or a music store, or anything that could be filed under “alternative” is so exciting to me, I just might burst. I don’t even have to patronize said businesses. I could just soak up their vibe by driving by and watching the people go in and out. And I can’t wait to vicariously live the life of an urban hipster mom for a few weeks by watching the playground scene. And then of course there is the fact that it is Texas, which is to say that it is not NY, and thus not winter. Not to mention the sheer pleasure of not taking care of my house. YIPPEEEE! By the time we get back (mid-march), we will be that much closer to spring, and being able to play outside. And I am very curious to see if the bulbs that I planted actually grow this spring. My minor gardening successes always amaze me. Especially since I was completely unable to grow e coli in graduate school. That’s right. Fast food chains cannot get rid of it, and I can’t get the damn bacteria to grow in a delicious broth filled Petri dish while snuggled up in the warmth of an incubator. When I get a plant to actually emerge from the ground, there is no end to my wonder. And if it bears fruit—well, it is quite simply a miracle.

My life revolves around urine. There is Carter and his geyser, not to mention the fact that he wets through his diaper almost every night, Ava and her “I forgot that I am potty trained” accidents, and then Rose and her incontinence. Seems like I am relentlessly wiping up pee. The dog got the award for most creative accident yesterday, when she peed all over the power strip that has the TV, cable box, modem, phone, answering machine, and computer plugged into it. Fortunately she did not cause any major damage, to herself or the electronics. Last time she did this, we had to replace the computer power strip to the tune of about 60 dollars. Though it is VERY disconcerting to hear ZZZZZZZZZTTTT ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT coming from the area by the TV.

Today we went to the Winter Carnival Parade. It was Ava’s first parade, and for a small town parade it was really quite good. There is a tradition though of passing out candy to the spectators/audience (what do you call people that watch parades?) and this usually resulted in 6 pieces of candy for 15 kids. I was not prepared for this and so Ava watched all of the other kids around her score candy, and I was left bracing for the tears (this brought back traumatic memories of losing out on easter egg hunts for me), but she was a real trooper. After saying “mommy, I want some” she was satisfied that there would be more, and that the next time it came our way, I would be out there elbowing my way to a lollypop. Fortunately someone else got me one, as I had Carter on my back. Who, by the way, slept through sirens—10 feet away from his head—bagpipes, a brass band, a marching band, and a car blasting “Walk Like an Egyptian.” All in all it was really fun. I did not enjoy the hard candy being lobbed at our heads by some not so perceptive guys on floats, but we just ducked and dodged. And then we came home and Dad took Carter and Ava and I went down to the lake and played on the snow—a real treat for both of us. We sat on a log that we usually sit on when we swim and had a little chat, I taught her snow angels, and we ran and chased Rose—oh, and she ate a lot of snow. And she fell asleep this evening in about 1 minute flat.

MAMAMAMAMA

Carter is 18 ½ lbs, and is 29 inches long. This puts him off the charts for length and somewhere in the upper percentiles for weight. He managed the visit well, until of course he had 3 needles unexpectedly introduced into his thighs. This was a bit of an offense as far as he was concerned, and he let me know it. He is supposed to go on Zantac for his spitting up/gassiness/fussiness/won’t nurse without arching his back and groaning-ness. Hopefully it will work. The nurse, Lisa, gave me a laundry list of foods that I might be eating that could contribute to his gassiness, and this included just about everything that I eat. So, I will try to be mindful, but lettuce alone is going to be hard.

He is otherwise healthy, and ‘beautiful’ according to the doctor.

Ava managed well, though we did not go to the airport. Carter was still reeling from the visit, and I just wanted to get them home. We are getting ready to go to dance class.

So, one lesson that I learned last night is that if your daughter gags when you give her ravioli, it is best not to suggest that she try another bite. I wouldn’t have normally done this, but she is very texture-sensitive, and tends to gag a little bit here and there, even when she likes what she is eating. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllll……not this time. She dutifully took another bite (after telling me that she liked it) and up came the ravioli and everything else she had eaten in the last hour. So we scratched ravioli off our list.

Carter definitely says mama. And he looks at me when he says it with a little wrinkled brow. I SWEAR he is talking to me. I know it is too early, but boy it seems like he is really naming me!

Ava is so auditory. SO into music, and sooooo sensitive to sound. She hates loud noises, to the point where she would not stay at the start of the bobsled run for the world cup races because everyone was yelling so much and ringing cowbells. But on the flip side, she remembers the playlist on every CD that she listens to. I put one in that we had not listened to in a while, and she immediately asked for the last song on it. She memorizes songs, and will sing them all the way through. On key too—which is the remarkable part of all of this. Those who have heard me sing—or Peter—know that this ability is from her extended gene pool.

Big Girl Bed

It has been a rough week. Hard to put my finger on it, but it just seems that if I am not holding one child, then I am holding the other.

On Tuesday morning, I reached my limit with Ava and I made the call—she was going in the big girl bed, and no nursing at night. If she wanted to join Carter and myself in our bed just across the room, that was fine, but only to snuggle. So, I converted the crib to a toddler bed, made a HUGE deal about it being a special bed, and discussed the no nursing at night rule relentlessly through the day. And with a few protests, it worked. She actually fell asleep in her big girl bed with me sitting with Carter in the rocking chair next to her. At midnight she toddled across the room, asked to nurse, and I said no, and she just rolled over. She did get up at 5:30 though. Then last night, it worked again, she came into the bed at 1:30, and we only had a huge issue at 5:30 but she did fall back asleep til 6:30. So proud of her. It certainly helped my attitude during the day. Which I need, since they are so demanding right now.

I have been putting Carter in the backpack for the majority of the day—definitely if I am out and about, but also at home, so that I can get the chores done. He seems to be ok with it, but I feel like all four of my limbs are about to fall off—he is heavy. He has his 6 mo appointment this morning, so we will see just how heavy he is. It is the trips up and down the basement stairs that kill me—just to qualify, these are not normal stairs—the rise on them is about 12 inches, and they do a number on your knees even if you are not carrying anything. Each trip downstairs requires putting Carter in the backpack, hoisting that up on my back, getting Ava in a pair of shoes--any shoes, carrying Carter and the laundry basket out to the porch and throwing the basket over the gate, going back and getting Ava, stepping over the gate and then lifting her over, carrying the 2 of them down the stairs, climbing back up the stairs to get the laundry basket, carrying it and Carter back down the stairs, doing the laundry, and then carrying the laundry and Carter up the stairs, throwing it over the gate, going back down with Carter to get Ava, carrying the 2 of them up and throwing her over the gate, then stepping over the gate, putting Ava inside the house, going back and getting the basket, and finally we are done. Aside from folding and putting it away. And then it starts all over again in an hour or so.

We went to tumbling yesterday—no major disasters, aside from Lena dumping a large octagon mat-thing on Ava’s head. It is roughly 6 feet across and 2 feet high, and was positioned on its side, and Lena decided to push it over. Ava was directly in its path. Fortunately it is not heavy. She was a bit startled, but nothing more. She can hold onto a bar and bring her legs up in front of her to touch the bar and then can get her feet hooked onto the bar—picture kids on trapezes on swing sets flipping up and around so that they are hanging by their knees. This got an amazed reaction from the teacher, Donna. And then everything she did after that was met with “DONNA LOOK AT ME!!”

Today is dance class. So, Carter is off to the doctor, we will go to the airport for lunch (a huge favorite) and then hit the studio.

today was a completely tv-free day. i love it when i can say that. i set up ava's tent, and she played her favorite game of throw the dog biscuit in, wait for rose to take the bait, and then zipper it up as fast as possible before rose gets out. the funniest part is when rose gets halfway out. carter spent hours in his little jumper today.

to clarify: i love fried tofu. this is my motivation. i know it is a weird thing to love, but i do. and thank you to everyone that emailed me tofu suggestions.

also, i don't think i adequately emphasized the milestone of doing without mommy for thursday's dance class--this is i think the first time she did something without me and with a non-family member--a HUGE accomplishment for my little girl.

one of the hardest things about having a toddler is the 'little toys' issue. it seems that the smaller the pieces are, the more fascinating it is. however, this means little pieces all over the house. not only do i find this painful -- most of them are sharp -- but it really bothers my aesthetic and organizational preferences. i fully admit to being neurotic, but i HATE the sight of a lone puzzle piece peeking out from under a chair. moreover, i can't bear the idea that a toy might not have all of its parts. but if you are a toddler, not only do you love all of the little pieces parts, but you LOVE to stash them in the most bizzare spots.

I know there are greater culinary feats I could aspire to, but I am really distressed that I cannot fry tofu. It never works for me. And since there are no Thai restaurants around here where I can just go get some, I am stuck trying to make it work. This evening the results were interesting—crumbly, sort of brown in some places, generally pretty white and oily though and smelling oddly like popcorn. It did not enhance my curry (no, I cannot make that either—I take a spoonful of jarred curry past and add a can of coconut sauce and voila!) very well. And I somehow had to convince Ava that this was worth eating. No dice. She promptly stood up, walked over to the refrigerator and got herself a Yoplait yogurt. Fine. I guess she did not notice the homemade yogurt right above that. Yoplait is her new favorite after she witnessed her friend Adrian licking the little foil lid. I cannot manufacture little foil lids, so we went and bought a box of Yoplait. I was so disappointed in myself when I realized that I had bought a bunch of individual plastic containers inside a cardboard box after making a resolution to cut down on waste.

This is all in support of my conclusion that I am a granola-girl-failure. I can’t fry tofu, I leap at the opportunity to purchase things in convenient packaging, I bailed on the whole cloth diaper thing and then I bailed on the 7th Generation diaper thing (this is only because Carter keeps peeing through the top when he sleeps—otherwise I love them), and I have used way more than my fair share of plastic bags since Ava was born. The list goes on. My only crunchy success is that I am the mother of a nursing toddler and that is only because she is definitely not going to hand that off to Carter anytime soon.

That and I have decided to go vegetarian, mostly. This is both a health thing—no need for details, but it has had a positive result—and because I have decided that motherhood has completely changed my constitution. I am, or was, the least squeamish person out there, but ever since having Carter I have just not been able to cope very well with meat. I mean, put a steak in front of me, and I will enjoy it, but when I get down to the bone I just get all woozy. And hopefully there is no vein-y part in it, because that grosses me out too. And when I cooked a leg of lamb, the marrow was oozing out and I accidentally touched it and really got weak-kneed. And then there was the day the grocery store decided to offer kidneys in the meat cooler. Kidneys are brown. This is positively nauseating, and to demonstrate this I (honest to God) started retching in the store. Ava found this uproarious. Unfortunately, now I am faced with the difficult task of being a low-carb vegetarian.

Carter decided not to be fussy today. This lends support to the theory that he actually was sick with whatever I had, since I finally recovered today. He was happy and willing to sit and laugh at me while I cooked my tofu mush and he sat and laughed at me while I ate it, and he sat and laughed while I cleaned up. I did not even have to give him the whisk, his favorite thing ever. He is learning so much—I know he recognizes the words “mommy,” “daddy,” “ava,” and “rosie” –when I say them he snaps his head up and looks at me with a huge smile and then looks for the individual named—and if I say another name in the same tone of voice he does not even glance in my direction. Pretty cool. Ava turned off the overhead light today and he looked right up at it when it got darker—which struck me as interesting because that means that he has to know that the thing on the ceiling is where the light comes from. This is the sort of thing he is focusing on now—piecing together the world around him. He also returned to his efforts to talk—he had abandoned that for much of his fussy period, and I had forgotten how cute it is to watch him try to manipulate his mouth into little sounds. He can sit up unaided for about a minute or so, but is still so tippy—so he really needs help. Ava was not solid on her bottom until she was about 6 ½ months, and it is looking like he is following in her footsteps.

She is such a riot. She has discovered how to answer the phone, and if she beats me to it she presses the talk button and says “HI!” I would like to teach her phone manners, but I am not quite ready to give her total phone-answering privileges. She is so mature in so many ways, and it is very easy to forget that she is a toddler. Even I do this—I routinely tack 6 months onto her current age when I am thinking about her—when she was 18 months, I was already considering her to be 2, and I am now bumping her up in my mind to 3. This is not fair, because 2 ½ is a lot different than 3. But the problem is that people see how composed and verbal she is and then assume that this is normal, not realizing that it has a shelf life. When she reverts to very typical toddler behavior they are not prepared. This is tough, because her not so mature moments are then delineated in high relief, making her very aware of everyone else’s disapproval. Yesterday she was upset after waking up from her nap, and there was no reason for it, other than she seems to just have a very hard time rejoining the world after napping, and she started crying, and then wailing, and needed to be held, and then she would be ok, and then not, and she would need to be held again, and during this time I was desperately trying to get the toys picked up while dealing with my own illness, and she knew I was getting a little tired of the “upppeeeeyo” (what she says to be picked up—it is her version of up we go, something she has said since she was very small) and she sat down on the ground and looked at me and said “mommy, I am having a very hard time stopping crying.” My heart broke. I reminded her that it was ok for her to cry (I can never say this to her without hearing the “Free To Be You and Me” soundtrack in my head) and that it was better to get it all out, but sometimes it is nice to do your screaming into say, a pillow, or outside. “Oh” she said. “Can I snuggle with you?”

ava is napping. unbelievable. carter is too. unbelievable. i should be napping, but i just had a cup of tea stronger than any cup of coffee one could ever make, soooooo here i am with a lost opportunity! but i can read and i can write, always a luxury.

this also goes to show that though caffeine might make its way into breastmilk, it does not really interfere with their little sleepy-heads. not trying to be flippant about that, i do make an effort to go decaf as much as possible, but today is an exception since i thought this would be a first line of defense before i succumbed to the need for actual pharmacueticals. it really does not seem to have jacked either of them up. perhaps it is like the ritalin effect--where an adult stimulant is a pediatric downer?

here is my "we are at home today and are going to try not to watch tv" strategy: pull out EVERY toy from the bedroom and the toybox in the living room and under the guise of reoganizing them allow ava to go nuts. carter benefits too, as all of his little rattle type toys have been unearthed, and he is really into anything that he can shake and bang.

Oh boy. I have the flu today. Or something that gives you the aches and pains, blah blah blah. We are having an at home on the couch/bed day.

Now I am wondering if this is the root of Carter’s recent fussiness. If it is, I totally understand.

Dance class was yesterday—I would write about it, but I was instructed to go out with the other mommies so she could “play with the teacher” – it appeared that she was having fun—despite wearing Carter’s pants. Yes, that’s right, now that she does not wear a diaper, she can fit into his clothes—they are just a little short. She was wearing pj bottoms for ease of movement, but when she got out of the car she sat down in the mud by mistake. Of course, this was the one day that I did not bring a change of clothing for her. But I did have a pair of pants for Carter, so we gave that a shot. It worked, and so there she was in a red turtleneck (the current favorite) and carter’s khaki pants. With the capri effect, she looked like a little beat poet, only the outfit was not black.

The winter carnival starts today, and we have no snow. Well, barely any snow. And it has been so warm, they cannot even build the ice castle. The ice is too thin to cut the blocks out of the lake. So weird. I don’t think it has been below 20, let alone 0, in weeks. Yesterday it was sunny and almost 50. It has done wonders for my mood! Others may moan about the skiing, but since that is not in my near future, I am more than happy to have spring in January. It means I can take the kids out for walks. But not today. Today, I am curling up with them.

Carter has just fallen asleep for his morning nap, and he doing that unbelievably cute scrunchy-bottom thing where they tuck their knees underneath them and stick their bottom up in the air. This is the first time he has ever done it (or at least that I have witnessed). So cute.

This morning Ava and Carter woke up at the same time, and she was pretty groggy, but open to the idea that I had to change his poopy diaper instead of snuggling with her, so she stumbled out into the living room with me where Peter was perusing the computer. He looked at her and said “good morning kiddo” or something like that, and she stomped her foot and said “DON”T say that Daaaaaaaaaaadddy! I am still sleepy and I have to nurse!” This roughly translates to “don’t speak to me until I have my coffee!”

Yesterday she slept til 8AM though and woke up all sunshine-y and pleasant. She has officially given up her nap, and as a result has become a connoisseur of sleep. All around this is a net positive, despite some rough awakenings. Naps were just a big old pain for both of us, as far as I am concerned. It was a battle, both to go to sleep and to wake up, not to mention the scheduling nightmare. And then it was 40 minutes at most, so it is not like I am really missing out on quiet time.

So, Rose (the dog) draws the line at eating boogers. She relishes a good frozen turd (both of the feline and canine variety), but will not eat Ava’s mucous. Go figure.

We went to Little Dippers yesterday—this is a very fun and very crunchy gathering of moms and tots (sometimes a dad), and it all went well. It is basically a structured playgroup, with circle time in the beginning where we sing songs, then free play for the kids and some sort of crafty project for the adults. I usually bow out of this part, since I am just not all that crafty and I do not like demonstrating exactly how unevenly I sew. Free play is always fun but slightly dangerous. The program is based on the Waldorf philosophy where natural materials are used for making the toys and a lot of them are a bit amorphous, so as to cultivate the imagination. This means a lot of wooden toys. Plus a few logs (I am serious) and a lot of silk scarves and some cloth dolls. The danger is in the wooden part of the experience. They make good (intentional and unintentional) weapons. More than one child has emerged with a huge knot on their head. Plastic looks pretty good to me. After free play the bread dough comes out, and the kids get to mold it into little rolls, eating most of it in the process and getting ridiculously covered in flour. This is Ava’s absolute favorite part. She will park her bottom in a little chair at the table as soon as circle is over and wait quietly and patiently for the bread to be ready, occasionally approaching Vanessa (the teacher) to ask her if the bread is ready. She totally ignores all of the action around her, and would sit there for a half hour if I did not tempt her with the play iron and ironing board. She can usually be convinced to play house. After making the bread and washing up, there is more free time and then we have a snack of cooked bread with butter (another favorite) and closing circle. There were no huge dramas yesterday, save for little Lena’s assertion of her dominance over all of the kids. She is having some aggression issues, and walked around to each boy and clunked them on the head, causing a domino effect of crumpled toddlers yowling and holding their heads. She then spared Ava the clunking, perhaps in gender solidarity, but did not let her off entirely, grabbing a fistful of Ava’s hair. This was not the first time she did this, having once attacked her at tumbling, and fortunately Ava was a bit prepared and dodged the worst of it. I hate to be judgmental, since I know a lot of kids go through this, but it is a bit frustrating.

We then drove home and I realized that I had very nearly overheated my car. Thank god we were at home and not on the side of the road.

Ava is watching Sesame Street, despite my recent frustration with PBS. I know that I should not get mad at public television, but I am. I do not appreciate the rescheduling that they did, moving Sesame Street to the middle of the morning, thereby rendering my “we don’t watch TV after 9 AM” rule obsolete. This was all done to accommodate a new show that has the prized 8:30 AM spot: “It’s a Big Big World” -- this is a show about the natural world, and by all accounts is pretty good—it is aesthetically pleasing, has a good concept in that all these wild animal puppets are all in a big tree talking about zoology/biology, but there is just one thing that bothers me. The lead character is a sloth. Not only that, he is a stoner sloth. He looks, talks, and dances for all the world like, well, a total pothead. He has the “I’m wasted and am going to float and spin slowly around with my arms out to the side” dance down, has a sort of half-baked expression, and greets his television audience with “heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.” Nothing against pot smokers—generally they are pretty nice people, but I am just not too keen on having one as my child’s role model. And he is a SLOTH to boot! Could we have a more, um, active animal? A monkey perhaps? There is a really cute tree frog on the show, why couldn’t he have been the M.C.? At least he jumps around.

We are off to tumbling today. Ava looks really cute—she decided that she wanted to wear a scarf around her head, and so she looks like a little swiss milkmaid. She was intrigued by the concept of braids, but decided that this was too much interaction with a brush, and opted for just the scarf.