Archive for August, 2007

Happy 2nd Birthday Audrey

Happy birthday sweet girl. I cannot believe you are two years old. I try not to compare you to your brother, but I fail. A lot. When Elliot turned two, you were already here. So, I don’t have strong memories of what it’s like to have a two-year old. (Sorry Elliot.)

You do so many funny things. So many wonderfully cute things. Sometimes, you’ll sit on my lap and clasp my face in your hands and stare at me. Sometimes I’ll even sneak in a kiss. And then you say, “no kisses mommy.” So I raspberry you. It’s a fun game, I could play for hours.

You can talk (IMHO) quite well. You have four and five word sentences. The cadence is a little rough, but I (almost) always know what you mean. Right now you’re mimicking Elliot. Well, except for that day I said, “damnit Elliot” and you said, “damnit Elliot.” It was the first naughty word to pass my lips where kids could hear. And you repeated it perfectly. Thankfully you’ve also forgotten about it.

I say, “let’s go kid-o-potamuses,” you say, “not a potamus!”
I say, “let’s go kid-a-roos”, you say, “not roos!”
And then you scrunch up your nose and giggle.

You still run like a baby. But it’s what you have to do to keep up with your hero, Elliot.

Audrey is TWO

Audrey was a scheduled c-section. We started the day like any other. Peter took Elliot to school and then came home to get me so we could go to the hospital. The we had a baby. Then Peter picked Elliot up from school and he met his baby sister.

Here birth though, will always be tied in my mind with Hurricane Katrina.

I spent three days in the hospital watching CNN. There were few channels on the hospital network and I was glued to hurricane coverage. Peter’s family lives in AL, and at the time his younger brother was in MS. He wrote about it here and here. The news was devastating. And heartbreaking. I had to turn the TV off sometimes because I would just cry. And cry. So sad for so many people. I can remember holding Audrey extra tight in the middle of the night watching Anderson Cooper. Holding her and wondering. Wondering how this and this and this could happen.

My Comments Are So Much Better Than My Posts

Hi. Di you find me because of this post and the lovely Susan? Let me set your expectations accordingly, so you might be more likely to come back when I’m back on my game – or when I’ve found my game. I do write witty thoughtful comments like this:

Are red shoes and clown-attire synonymous? Can one wear red patent leather in the daytime to a job that doesn’t include a pole?

But, I’ve yet to find that voice here. I think it’s coming. And I hope it is. Because my comments on other people’s site crack me up. And I want this blog to crack you up. So, don’t pass me up as pedestrian just yet.

Color Chosen

Maybe.

We’ll have to look at in the morning light to know for sure. I followed some sound advice and ventured out of the coral section of paint chips. I came home with two new options: Mermaid’s Song and Purple Gala.

blue & purple

Again, the camera doesn’t really do them justice. Here’s the blue color, the one I’m leaning toward, on another wall, same time of day.
blue

The current thinking: paint one wall and if it’s TOO bright, paint the others the lightest color on the same card. If that’s hideous, we’ll just move. Painting over blue paint is really difficult.

Everyone prepare yourselves… I’ll want to paint the master bedroom soon. Imagine the headache that’s going to cause. If a kid’s room took 6 samples, how many will mine take? Maybe we can have a pool.

Color Me Confused

I really want to paint Audrey’s room this week. The paint sample has been in the garage for weeks. We finally put it on the wall this weekend. And now. Now, I’m not so sure. It looked a little too bright. Or neon. Or garish. Hard to say. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love color. But there is something about this green that’s unsettling. Maybe. Yesterday I drug the kids to Lowe’s to look for a new color. I left with three more samples. None of them green. And now that two of them are on the walls, maybe I like the green? The third sample didn’t make it to the wall test because it looks a lot like the orange on Elliot’s wall. We are under strict instruction from him that his sister’s room cannot be orange like his. And since I want to paint our room orange, I can see his argument. Too much orange upstairs.

Here’s a flikr set of the colors on the walls in a variety of light and flashes and angles. What do you think?

flikr

I sorta like all three colors together. Maybe I can paint a grid and fill it with all the colors? And be done with her room sometime when she’s in high school…

Dear Hot Girl at Starbucks

Dear Hot Girl at Starbucks,

Yes, your legs are nice & long & tan. And you can totally pull off the short-shorts. But, I don’t think your butt cheek is supposed to hang out the bottom. I think we call that a bathing suit, or underwear. Speaking of which, I don’t see how you could have been wearing any.

Sincerely,
The knee-length-shorts-wearing mom in the corner

Free Cycles

All my free brain cycles are spent thinking about friends in need. So, if you’re one of those friends that’s recently experienced tragedy – I’m thinking about you.

We’ll return to regular programming tomorrow.

Toddler Punished in Dryer

I’m going to try something new! Blogging about something other than my kids. Egads… so, here’s to my new “Current Events” category.

Found on CNN: a “sobbing Texas man facing charges says he’s sorry for putting a 2-year-old in a dryer.” But that’s not what I want to talk about. The mother of the child, the girlfriend of the accused and mother of his child, believed her child’s claim and called the police. We hear too many stories where children aren’t believed, or where women are too scared of losing a man to make a claim of child abuse. Good for her to find the strength to do the right thing. The right thing and the easy thing are seldom the same.

We Could Have Named Her Ginger

Through the brilliantness of the internets & google reader I was reading this and was directed to this. Apparently the redhead gene is diluting and one scientist believes there will be no more redheads by 2100. I thought there were more redheads now than when I was a kid. Maybe hair color in a box has just gotten so good that it’s more difficult to tell? Speaking of which, while I am a natural redhead, I have to augment my natural color with something from Clairol to achieve a noticeable red. As I’ve gotten older my hair has turned more brown. Not a lovely brunette shade either. Something darker than a dishwater blond. And I think I’m being generous. But, hold on, I’ll ask the peanut gallery.

me: Peter what color is my hair?
him: red
me: what about when it’s brown?
him: it’s never been brown, it has tinges of brown

Which merely goes to show that boys don’t know their colors.

Audrey was born with so much red hair that the doctor knew she was redheaded before she came out. She gets a lot of attention for her hair. I’m hoping that since her eyebrows are red too, she’ll stay a redhead much longer in life than I did. Or maybe strawberry blond. But if her hair turns dishwater, I’ll happily don the latex-free gloves and help her retain her place among redheads.

audrey

She’s Cute, We’ll Keep Her

We’re trying to teach Audrey to solve her own problems. For example, if she doesn’t want a particular blanket in her crib when she’s going to bed – she should toss it out. Not scream and wail and carry-on about the blanket, wanting us to remove it from her crib. In that vein I sent her upstairs to get some new pjs (because she peeled off the ones I chose for her). It’s dark upstairs so I told her to get the stool from the bathroom and turn on her bedroom light. After a few minutes I hear, “too hard. can’t reach.” I look upstairs and tell her to get the stool out of the bathroom. She points to the kids’ bathroom asks if that’s the one I mean then runs into her room. She comes back out saying, “put this one back.” She was carrying the scale from my bathroom. No wonder she couldn’t reach the light switch.

———————–

As if her love of Mexican food & red hair weren’t proof enough that she’s my kid, today Audrey said “thank you” after I turned Madonna’s Holiday a little louder in the car.

A Parking Space of One’s Own

This is our two-car garage with TWO cars IN it. Well, technically three if you count the dumptruck parked precariously behind my car’s rear-tire.

In our 6+ years as happy homeowners only my car lived in the garage. But when we bought this house a short 15 months ago we noticed the garage was larger than our last. It seemed reasonable that both cars could reside in the garage. It only took 15 months to unpack everything. We also made money on the whole cleaning/organizing/unpacking deal. I returned lots of odds & ends (that I had purchased with the best of intentions) to a big-box hardware store. And there’s the stuff that was listed on Craigslist.

But I do feel a little uneasy. Like we’re in an alternate dimension. Isn’t it a little un-American to park two cars in a two-car garage?
garage

Next Page »