Remember Me?

Whew. Where to begin? I'm going to do this in sections, since it's been so long. I'll have a section for each aspect of this blog that I wish existed, if only I had the drive to post regularly. Here's the first section:


Updates

Josephine is a talking machine. She says two- to four-word sentences, like "Lila, look!" and "Me do it," and "Go upstairs, please?" She just turned two, which of course is mind-boggling.

Lila is four and a half, is in preschool, and will go to Kindergarten next year. She is very sweet, and imaginative, but also highly emotional - her moods change fast and we're working on taking things in stride. Lila loves to dance and sing, and to dress up in fancy clothes at any opportunity. She takes long, hot baths and sleeps late whenever possible. She loves to eat spaghetti and she is still, as she always has been, my snuggliest child.

Gage is six and a quarter, and in first grade. He is learning to read and is very excited about it. Reading is starting to make sense to him now - it's easier for him to sound things out, it's not just memorization of key words like it was last year. It's awesome to watch him grow in this way. He loves all things boy, and is beginning to be very funny, like to incorporate timing and tone into his joking.


Funny Stories

Lila says the word 'pattern' like this: 'patterin.' I don't correct her. I will have to, one of these days.

We went camping last weekend (to be fair, I use the term 'camping' loosely - we rented a cabin in a state park. There's electricity but no water and only a fireplace for heat - and it was COLD). At the end of the trip I asked Jo what her favorite part was. She thought for a minute, and then said "Chips." I said "We just had a super fun weekend camping and your favorite part was potato chips?" She nodded thoughtfully and added "Chips yummy." She does have a point.

This past spring Mike and I took Gage to NYC for his first time and when I asked him what his favorite part was (after the long-anticipated bus ride, a dinosaur exhibit at the museum, playing at Central park, etc.) he answered "When I got the Reese's at the candy store." Huh - his favorite part was grabbing a candy bar from a newsstand on our way through Port Authority. This definitely runs in the family...my mom saved a story I wrote in first grade wherein I named 'the chocolate covered peanuts' as the highlight of my trip to Disney World. The apple does not fall far, my friends.


Current Philosophical Crisis

About once a week I am whirled into, and then stuck in, a cyclical frenzy of how to answer this question: Which is stronger, wood or metal? I think that, like once a week, that simple sentence. "Which is stronger, wood or metal?" By the time I'm on the third word... "Which is stronger..." I'm already thinking "No, no, stop now! It will only be frustrating!" But the question keeps coming, in a snarky whisper: "...wood or metal?" Sigh. Then I am committed to a ten-minute-long argument with myself. It goes something like this:

Brain: Picture of tin foil, wooden dowel easily punching through said metal.
Me: "Well, wood."
Brain: Picture of ax chopping at a tree, wood chips flying, cuts deep into tree trunk, ax suffering no ill effects.
Me: "Well, metal."
Brain: Picture of a car crashing into a tree, car mangled and crushed, hood wrinkled and bent. Tree remaining upright after only a shudder.
Me: "Well, wood."

And on it goes. And the answer, of course, is "Well, it depends." Of course it does. Of course it depends. On what kind of metal, what kind of wood, what shape, what density. What force. What angle. But I cannot answer that simple question, and I can answer barely any questions without major disclaimers. "Well, it depends."

Nothing is yes or no, nothing is black or white. Everything is gray and everything is in between and there are very few obvious answers. To anything. Ever. What there is a whole lot of, is uncertainty.


The Ways I Am Messing Up My Kids

What am I doing wrong right now? Josephine told her first knock-knock joke while we were camping. And I accidentally laughed. A lot.

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "Poo poo who?"
Jo, pointing: "Poo poo in da diaper."

And she was right! There was, indeed, a major reason for her to call that to my attention. But because it was so well-received she has started telling this joke all the time now:

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "Poo poo who?"
Jo" "Poo poo you."

Of course, I couldn't let that go on. Despite the comical nature of a just-turned-two-year-old making potty jokes I can't let my kid call me poop. But she still tries, and sometimes she tells other jokes, so I can't just say no to knock-knock jokes.

Jo: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Who's there?"
Jo: "Poo poo."
Me: "I don't like poo poo jokes."
Jo: Grinning
Me: "Tell me a different joke."
Jo, whispering: "Poo poo you."
Lila, defensively: "Don't listen to her, Mommy! Just ignore her!"


Recipe

Hmm...what do you want a recipe for? Here are some of our current favorites:

Salty Oat Cookies

Caramel Corn

Vanilla Bean Yogurt

Teriyaki Chicken

Pad Thai


Pictures

Must upload. Sigh...and I was doing so well.