Lastborn has finally lost his first upper front tooth. Because he already had a large gap between his front teeth, the resultant gap looks even larger. In fact, it looks a bit like someone knocked out his whole upper row.
Given the smirk he always tends to wear, the image of this being the result of a knuckle sandwich is even more believable.
Not only does he look quite toothless, but the gap is strongly affecting his speech. His pronunciation is very different. He seems to be tripping over his lips. And he as begun to stutter again . This time, not only on the beginnings of words, but also on the endings.
Oh. And we keep forgetting to put the tooth under his pillow so the fairy can stop by. Must remember tonight.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
A spoon under the pillow
We are collectors of snow day superstitions.
When a snow storm is approaching the northeastern US, we perform as many superstitious acts as we can think of in hopes of having a snow day. It has become family tradition and we love it.
Yesterday, we learned of sleeping with a spoon under your pillow. And so we added this new superstition to our bedtime routine last night.
So now, at bedtime on the night before a possible snow storm we:
Lastborn walks like an egyptian.
It would have been horrible if the schools were not closed this morning. But, keeping with family tradition, everyone piled into bed with DH and me and we watched the school closings scroll across the screen. Oh. There's Billerica! That's a good sign. And Lowell, they're right across the street from us! That's a good sign. Lastborn is a pretty good reader, but usually doesn't chant off the names with Firstborn and me because they go by too fast. However, he did read off No. Reading. Only, he read it as the verb to read and the word no.
"Oh! No reading! That's good. I hate to read."
An additional fun memory for our Valentine's day storm.
We've spent a quiet day at home with the fire burning in the fire place and the kids with their noses firmly stuffed into the screens of their game boys.
Firstborn did go out to play in the snow for a few minutes, but ended up with a shirtful of the powdery stuff and had to come in to warm up his swollen, red cheeks.
It's not your typical Boston area storm. Usually, it's warmer here for a storm. No snowmen or snowball fights with this stuff.
When a snow storm is approaching the northeastern US, we perform as many superstitious acts as we can think of in hopes of having a snow day. It has become family tradition and we love it.
Yesterday, we learned of sleeping with a spoon under your pillow. And so we added this new superstition to our bedtime routine last night.
So now, at bedtime on the night before a possible snow storm we:
- Put our pajamas on inside out (even I participated in this one)
- Do the snow day dance (each child has their own self-choreographed dance, but daddy is not allowed because he would just shake his bootie and the boys find that a bit scarey)
- Put a spoon under our pillow before climbing into bed.
Lastborn walks like an egyptian.
It would have been horrible if the schools were not closed this morning. But, keeping with family tradition, everyone piled into bed with DH and me and we watched the school closings scroll across the screen. Oh. There's Billerica! That's a good sign. And Lowell, they're right across the street from us! That's a good sign. Lastborn is a pretty good reader, but usually doesn't chant off the names with Firstborn and me because they go by too fast. However, he did read off No. Reading. Only, he read it as the verb to read and the word no.
"Oh! No reading! That's good. I hate to read."
An additional fun memory for our Valentine's day storm.
We've spent a quiet day at home with the fire burning in the fire place and the kids with their noses firmly stuffed into the screens of their game boys.
Firstborn did go out to play in the snow for a few minutes, but ended up with a shirtful of the powdery stuff and had to come in to warm up his swollen, red cheeks.
It's not your typical Boston area storm. Usually, it's warmer here for a storm. No snowmen or snowball fights with this stuff.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Why we don't attend mass
When everyone turns to shake hands and say, "Peace be with you," Lastborn puts out his index finger and says, "Pull my finger."
Sigh (giggle, giggle)
Sigh (giggle, giggle)
Saturday, February 03, 2007
What I did last night
Thanks to Pam at beancounter, I have a nice video of what I did last night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9QwK5EHSmg
Only, it's not so funny with a 19 year old cat. She just can't fight like she used to, and only a couple of pitiful wails accompanied the event.
Spazzy is not doing well. She can't clean herself any more and as a result, has developed a number of matted places in her fur. I have started to brush her out on a regular basis; something I never had to do for her in 19 years.
Yesterday, she started walking funny too. Looks like arthritis in her hips. I would not be surprised if she might be getting fractures in her bones now too. She is very old and has been treated for a thyroid tumor for the past two years. She has been the picture of health otherwise, but I know her time will come soon.
Of course DH is constantly measuring her to see how much sedative would do her in for good.
But every time she climbs into my lap, she starts her motor and purrs so loudly, I can't hear the TV. She's a very happy, if old and feeble, kitty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9QwK5EHSmg
Only, it's not so funny with a 19 year old cat. She just can't fight like she used to, and only a couple of pitiful wails accompanied the event.
Spazzy is not doing well. She can't clean herself any more and as a result, has developed a number of matted places in her fur. I have started to brush her out on a regular basis; something I never had to do for her in 19 years.
Yesterday, she started walking funny too. Looks like arthritis in her hips. I would not be surprised if she might be getting fractures in her bones now too. She is very old and has been treated for a thyroid tumor for the past two years. She has been the picture of health otherwise, but I know her time will come soon.
Of course DH is constantly measuring her to see how much sedative would do her in for good.
But every time she climbs into my lap, she starts her motor and purrs so loudly, I can't hear the TV. She's a very happy, if old and feeble, kitty.
The end is near
Another installment in the 4th grade spelling-word essay series.
What if we were wrong about how we live? I think that it was actually the shockwave from a meteor that made enough oxygen to last a few millenia. What if it was released like a kind of invisible, magical pollen. What if their prehistoric remains do it too? I at least know that some new creature will be emerging soon. I have seen it, the end is coming soon. For generations we have lived in this striking world, but now I hesitate to do everything and misunderstand alot. My tip is to expect the unexpected and unusual.
What if we were wrong about how we live? I think that it was actually the shockwave from a meteor that made enough oxygen to last a few millenia. What if it was released like a kind of invisible, magical pollen. What if their prehistoric remains do it too? I at least know that some new creature will be emerging soon. I have seen it, the end is coming soon. For generations we have lived in this striking world, but now I hesitate to do everything and misunderstand alot. My tip is to expect the unexpected and unusual.
Friday, February 02, 2007
A tribute to a little girl
When I started this website, I wanted to use it as a place where I could share with the world the joys of parenthood. I wanted to write down for all times my impression of the ever-changing people who inhabit my home.
We often hear, they are only little for such a short time. But what does that really mean. Every once in a while, an event will trigger a memory of my firstborn in his very early years. I have forgotten so much of what he was then. He has changed in so many ways; his appearance, his voice, his size and his attitudes. He has learned to deal with so many things in life that he found so difficult when he was 2 and 3. Well of course. We expect that. His life would be so much harder if he still acted like a 3 year old (all the time instead of the passing bouts of 3 year old that we get now).
When I get these momentary pictures of his life back then, I hope that I can remember them forever. They are so precious. But they leave in a matter of days and his current being overwhelms all of what I thought so briefly.
With Lastborn, I have more connection to his past. His smile is so radiant it takes over the whole room. So, when I look at pictures of him from 2 or 3 years ago, the moment comes back to me like crystal; sharp and smooth and without fault.
It helps that I have had the time to savor Lastborn. I was not away at work for 8 hours of his waking days like I was for Firstborns first 3.5 years. It also helps that his personality is so huge and interactive, screaming for recognition. Firstborn dealt with life internally, in his mind and heart with little interaction with us or anyone else for that matter. It was his way and it worked for him.
I'm not up to the task of describing them to someone else though. I think I can write stories for myself, but I don't know if I am up to writing them for others.
This comes up after visiting one of my favorite blogs. Dear Elena is written by a man who lost his daughter (the same age as firstborn) to meningitis last year. I was first drawn to his blog because of the age of Elena at her death and because a child the same age died of meningitis the same month near us. The speed of this infection is daunting, and the subject probably seems like a downer to some, but what he has created in this blog is a miracle. Some posts deal with his and his wife's handling of the healing process that comes from losing a child, and some of his posts are vivid memories of who Elena was. They don't sugar coat her life or make the writer look like the perfect parent. They don't dwell on mistakes he made as a father or how he wishes he could have her back. Instead, they memorialize, in verbal snapshots, a short but full life of a girl who was loved very much.
As I read his posts, Elena comes alive for me just like those memories of Firstborn that snap into my mind at times when I am unprepared to capture them. I'm there in his home watching Elena speed through the house on her turtle giggling and smiling with a look of determination on her face just like I'm there when my Firstborn describes his plans for capturing the toothfairy and becoming a millionaire.
I don't visit Dear Elena often because it is too hard for me. I always get tearful after a visit. But I am comforted to know how her family is doing and I am enriched by the stories of her life.
We often hear, they are only little for such a short time. But what does that really mean. Every once in a while, an event will trigger a memory of my firstborn in his very early years. I have forgotten so much of what he was then. He has changed in so many ways; his appearance, his voice, his size and his attitudes. He has learned to deal with so many things in life that he found so difficult when he was 2 and 3. Well of course. We expect that. His life would be so much harder if he still acted like a 3 year old (all the time instead of the passing bouts of 3 year old that we get now).
When I get these momentary pictures of his life back then, I hope that I can remember them forever. They are so precious. But they leave in a matter of days and his current being overwhelms all of what I thought so briefly.
With Lastborn, I have more connection to his past. His smile is so radiant it takes over the whole room. So, when I look at pictures of him from 2 or 3 years ago, the moment comes back to me like crystal; sharp and smooth and without fault.
It helps that I have had the time to savor Lastborn. I was not away at work for 8 hours of his waking days like I was for Firstborns first 3.5 years. It also helps that his personality is so huge and interactive, screaming for recognition. Firstborn dealt with life internally, in his mind and heart with little interaction with us or anyone else for that matter. It was his way and it worked for him.
I'm not up to the task of describing them to someone else though. I think I can write stories for myself, but I don't know if I am up to writing them for others.
This comes up after visiting one of my favorite blogs. Dear Elena is written by a man who lost his daughter (the same age as firstborn) to meningitis last year. I was first drawn to his blog because of the age of Elena at her death and because a child the same age died of meningitis the same month near us. The speed of this infection is daunting, and the subject probably seems like a downer to some, but what he has created in this blog is a miracle. Some posts deal with his and his wife's handling of the healing process that comes from losing a child, and some of his posts are vivid memories of who Elena was. They don't sugar coat her life or make the writer look like the perfect parent. They don't dwell on mistakes he made as a father or how he wishes he could have her back. Instead, they memorialize, in verbal snapshots, a short but full life of a girl who was loved very much.
As I read his posts, Elena comes alive for me just like those memories of Firstborn that snap into my mind at times when I am unprepared to capture them. I'm there in his home watching Elena speed through the house on her turtle giggling and smiling with a look of determination on her face just like I'm there when my Firstborn describes his plans for capturing the toothfairy and becoming a millionaire.
I don't visit Dear Elena often because it is too hard for me. I always get tearful after a visit. But I am comforted to know how her family is doing and I am enriched by the stories of her life.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Boston thinks it's big time
It's so terribly embarrasing.
Last night when I returned home from my night out with the girls, the babysitter and her father were sitting on my couch with big grins on their faces watching the Fox 25 news.
Big doings in Boston today. There was a big bomb scare. We're very important you know. The whole world would like to bomb Boston. Just think of the damage they could do in this major metropolitan city. All the history would be ruined you know.
It turns out, Turner Broadcasting, parent company of Cartoon Network, intiated a guerrilla marketing scheme 2 weeks ago posting a number of magnetic light boards on various popular Boston sites. Each light board sported the outline of a character from the Cartoon Network show Aqua Teen Hunger Force. A Mooninite.
OK. So someone called in and said they saw a suspicious device on a city bridge. Yes, red lights go off. So they arrived at the scene, gingerly picked the device off the bridge, and then (while still on the bridge) shot it with a water cannon. So much for keeping the bridge safe. One would think that a bomb squad looking at the remains of this poor mooninite light board would be able to discern that it probably wasn't a bomb. But no! Instead, the terrorism force in Boston starts running around like madmen looking for others. Destroying some until one was moved to a location out of the direct sunlight and a younger officer recognized that the lights formed this cartoon character. That was about noon. Meanwhile, the subway was closed, hiways were closed , and some hysteria had descended on Boston. But even after police discovered and reported to the mayor that this might be a hoax, the mayor still held on to his belief that ever-important Boston was possibly under attack.
By 5 PM, they had finally gotten word from Turner that this was a marketing scheme and they admitted to the public that they could all relax. But they still arrested the two young men responsible for sticking these magnetic light boards onto metal surfaces around town.
They want to sue Turner.
They are bragging about their ability to handle a terrorist situation.
OK. So let's take a look at this objectively.
1) It took you 2 weeks to discover these signs. Very observant.
2) These signs are up in some 10 other cities in the US. No one in these cities is running around crying "the sky is falling."
3) If someone wanted to use inocuous magnetic light boards as bomb devices, wouldn't they want to bomb where they could do more damage? Say NYC? DC? LA?
Boston, you are not a big city. Stop trying to look like one.
And let these guys out of prison. They were just trying to get a paycheck. If you want to embarras yourself by sueing Turner. Go ahead. Luckily I don't pay taxes in Boston, so it won't be my problem. But I'm warning you. You will come off looking silly.
Last night when I returned home from my night out with the girls, the babysitter and her father were sitting on my couch with big grins on their faces watching the Fox 25 news.
Big doings in Boston today. There was a big bomb scare. We're very important you know. The whole world would like to bomb Boston. Just think of the damage they could do in this major metropolitan city. All the history would be ruined you know.
It turns out, Turner Broadcasting, parent company of Cartoon Network, intiated a guerrilla marketing scheme 2 weeks ago posting a number of magnetic light boards on various popular Boston sites. Each light board sported the outline of a character from the Cartoon Network show Aqua Teen Hunger Force. A Mooninite.
OK. So someone called in and said they saw a suspicious device on a city bridge. Yes, red lights go off. So they arrived at the scene, gingerly picked the device off the bridge, and then (while still on the bridge) shot it with a water cannon. So much for keeping the bridge safe. One would think that a bomb squad looking at the remains of this poor mooninite light board would be able to discern that it probably wasn't a bomb. But no! Instead, the terrorism force in Boston starts running around like madmen looking for others. Destroying some until one was moved to a location out of the direct sunlight and a younger officer recognized that the lights formed this cartoon character. That was about noon. Meanwhile, the subway was closed, hiways were closed , and some hysteria had descended on Boston. But even after police discovered and reported to the mayor that this might be a hoax, the mayor still held on to his belief that ever-important Boston was possibly under attack.
By 5 PM, they had finally gotten word from Turner that this was a marketing scheme and they admitted to the public that they could all relax. But they still arrested the two young men responsible for sticking these magnetic light boards onto metal surfaces around town.
They want to sue Turner.
They are bragging about their ability to handle a terrorist situation.
OK. So let's take a look at this objectively.
1) It took you 2 weeks to discover these signs. Very observant.
2) These signs are up in some 10 other cities in the US. No one in these cities is running around crying "the sky is falling."
3) If someone wanted to use inocuous magnetic light boards as bomb devices, wouldn't they want to bomb where they could do more damage? Say NYC? DC? LA?
Boston, you are not a big city. Stop trying to look like one.
And let these guys out of prison. They were just trying to get a paycheck. If you want to embarras yourself by sueing Turner. Go ahead. Luckily I don't pay taxes in Boston, so it won't be my problem. But I'm warning you. You will come off looking silly.
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