Three Degrees Later...

So....over.

2010-07-31T21:54:00.000-04:00

This is my last post to this blog. Ever? Maybe. Who knows. It has ceased to serve a meaningful purpose for me. I am focusing my energy on 9.39 and the playground blog, which I invite you to follow. Thanks for reading this one. Bye.

Me, erased, or, What was my name again?

2010-02-09T16:56:00.002-05:00

Today I sat down in the orthodontist's office with a woman whose daughter is in speech playgroup with the big girl. And of course we recognized each other, hello hello, who are you here with (she was aghast when I said no one, I have orthodontia at 38) and then I opened my mouth and actually said, "Oh, and I'm Ellie's mom, by the way."

I have been erased.

I have stopped being Sarah, Miss Manville, Ms. Gann, Yo Miz G, Snoot, Sac, or any other moniker by which I have traveled in my life. I have been relegated to the nameless parent, the invisible mother, the omnipresent yet invisible authority under which my children may live, but from whom I derive my entire identity.

This is a problem. I used to be Somebody. I was always growing into myself, of course, but I had a name. I wasn't interpreted by my relationship to someone else. Now, that's all I seem to have.

I know this happens to other women, and for the most part they hate it as much as I do. We used to be people, and then we reproduced. We used to have voices....authentic, individual. Now we just have mouthpieces, and they are three years old and still can't tie their own shoes.

The reclaiming of Self is a process that can take a woman years to complete. I don't know where I am in my journey, but I know I can start in one solid place.

My name is Sarah.

My new year, or, I gotta get it together

2010-01-18T08:40:00.001-05:00

Here's my goals for my new year. Two weeks late, but sue me.

1. Have fun. Lots.
2. Run a 5 K. See Cheryl's blog for info on what other women are doing to acheive the same goal. I will start my own running blog when I start running. Stay tuned.
3. No decisions from a place of fear. Ever.

I think that's a good way to start. Also, my new favorite word is "heliotrope."

Not much, or, Otherwise dull

2009-12-09T09:53:00.000-05:00

There has been a lot happening but none of it is worth writing about. I am doing my day to day and that is pretty much all I can say about it. 2009 has become, as the kids say, old and busted. I am looking forward to the New Year and whatever it brings me.

Reunion.

2009-10-11T12:26:00.001-04:00

Michael Arquero was one of my closest friends in high school. We were together pretty much ever weekend for three years, since we were both in band, and cling together like desperate lovers is what band people do. When we went to college, he landed in Detroit at art school, and I ended up doing whatever it is I've been doing for twenty years. Well, we both showed up at the HN reunion, and this is how we looked. Not too bad. And no, he wasn't pinching my rear in this picture, although his wife alleged that we were smiling like he was.

Three, or, Glad that's over with

2009-09-13T08:19:00.003-04:00

Then......

Now.

No one tells you when you have premies what it's going to be like, because they don't know what the outcomes are going to be. They don't know....heart problems? Asthma? Cognitive delay? Speech problems? Vision problems? It's a crapshoot, really. And throw the multiple thing in, and it's even more of an over under. Somehow I managed to have two kids at 33.3 weeks who are super smart, funny, talented, polite, coordinated, interesting and very much their own identities despite the twin situation. I got lucky, and I know it.

And no, the serene smile on my face wasn't the glow of motherhood. It was the constant pump of morphine into my back. Sorry to burst your bubble. :-)

Tired, or, The Latter Days of Summer

2009-08-04T21:56:00.002-04:00

I haven't had much to write about in the last few weeks because I am afraid I have gotten rather boring. Same day, in and out. The children are interesting. Emma is pretty much potty trained. She also has croup, which stinks, but at least she scores popsicles on demand. I joined a gym and went to yoga tonight. Whew! Is it hard work. I know I'll feel it tomorrow. School starts for all the girls on 9/1, and for the first time in four years I'll have three uninterrupted hours to myself four days a week. I am alternating between being alarmed and a little skittish and basking in the glory of solitude. I think this might be my last year of stay-at-home.....the call of the classroom is growing, even if I only get a job at a local college teaching 101 part-time. I feel I've been too long out of the game. Who knows.....

More pictures to come......just..........tired.

Bawlmer, or, Hi, Hon

2009-07-02T16:03:00.004-04:00

Here are some photos from one of my new favorite places, Bawlmer Murrylin. It is a wonderful combination of metropolitan snazz and pink flamingo chic. I didn't see John Waters, but I did walk around Johns Hopkins, which I believe would be a wonderful place for Emma. Vaccaro's has the best cannoli in the world, and the quick access to DC cannot be underscored enough...thank you, God and Congress, for the National Portrait Gallery.

Gift from the Sea, or, God Bless AML

2009-06-30T23:19:00.004-04:00

Here's the thing about traveling. I like it, but it's a lot of work now. I have to clear my calendar, which means finding someone to do all the legwork with the kids, manage the house, etc. I have wanted to go to Baltimore to see my BFF Lynn in her Louise Jefferson de-luxe apartment in the sky, but absolutely could not go with my family. The kids would fill up that space like wild dogs on a skiff. So after reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea, I was inspired. I would go on vacation alone, and everyone else would make it work. Of course, there was quid pro quo...Bill could have his own vacation too, to a place of his own choosing. It just so happened that both vacations occurred in June, but that actually worked out too. By half year mark, I think we were both tired and needed a regroup.

I will post more about Baltimore another day, when I have pictures to narrate. But here's what I will say on the general topic of vacationing alone: do it. Do it at least once a year. Do it for a weekend, or three or four days. Do it to a place where someone you know and love lives, so that you're not lonely. Make your own schedule. Eat what you want. Don't call home too much. Read a crappy book while you're there. Breathe a little. I did, and wow, I feel like a million bucks.

Around the House, or, Now Look What You've Started

2009-06-07T13:59:00.005-04:00

This is my new corner project. See that nice Home Organizing book on the counter? That's no accident. I love this counter and specifically asked for it when we redid the kitchen. I envisioned it as my own little workstation. Well, look what's happened. There's a maraca, a dolly gurney, a PECS card for the potty, some random catalogs, the girls' hair do dads, Viewmaster thingys, my phone charger...this space is officially Not Working. I need to get stuff off the counter, get a file folder thingy on the wall, get something cuter to handle my supplies (bags of pens, staplers, tape, etc. is not getting the job done).....the wall that surrounds the fridge is tall and narrow and perfect for quick-view stuff, like a cute bulletin board, or something. I don't know. All I know this, this spot makes me a sad panda. And that's not what we're going for.

Grobles gave us some plants at our chinese-cambodian-italian dinner last night so I spent all morning putting them in, watering them, and the re-organizing everything else in the yard so that it looks weeded and clean. It's hard to admit that I can't have the backyard I really want (no grass, just plants and a path) because the kids need the space to play, but my day is coming. In the meantime, these new hosta and legolaria are going to have to whet my appetite for better yard days ahead.

Well, that's over with, or, 6 weeks to training camp

2009-05-30T23:32:00.003-04:00

I'm sad about the Cavs but not surprised because, well, this is Cleveland, and we all carry a perpetual sports sadness with us. Somehow, somewhere, we got the malochhia from some Sicilian widow, and now we can never win the big ones. At least now there's essentially a break from sports around here, since we've been off the Tribe since, I don't know, 2004 or so, and football doesn't start to heat up until mid-summer. Then I get to listen to groans of "the Browns stink!" for 16 weeks. Awesome.

For Jim, or, Take That, Crankshaft

2009-05-17T12:38:00.003-04:00

So Grobles and I share hosta every year, which is a nice tradition and saves everyone's plants. Hosta do need room to spread out and fill in, otherwise their root systems seem to get a little cramped and they don't do as well. This year my plants sprung up overnight and are more massive than ever. My front plants are enormous and I already see opporunity to split in the fall. I planted those large purple things in photo 2 last fall as an experiment (they're bulbs) and am so happy I did because look at them! Big full heads, great color. I needed something tall and not green in that corner. Also liking my solid-stripe effect along the drive....not everyone's choice in design but I wanted to mix it up.

Jim joined a garden club, a la Crankshaft, so these photos are especially for him.

http://www.chron.com/apps/comics/showComick.mpl?date=20090327&name=Crankshaft

bell hooks, or, why am I inside writing when its 80 degrees in Ohio?

2009-04-26T16:37:00.001-04:00

Why don’t I like bell hooks? For me, it’s more difficult to explain why one would like her. In some circles, not liking bell hooks is like being down on chocolate and puppies. There is sort of a sucking in of the breath, a wide-eyed stare. “But don’t you find her….transformative? Doesn’t she speak…the TRUTH?” No. I don’t think she does. And when she aligns herself with Paolo Friere, who I find much more accessible, I feel a strain of annoyance. These two are not from the same planet, let alone the same philosophy.
In homage to David Letterman, I will now state the top 10 reasons bell hooks does not impress.

1. Anybody who is that obsessed with the world bourgeois needs to just go have a beer. Seriously. When she talks on p. 178 about silence and obedience in the classroom being a bourgeois value, I wince. I don’t see how creating a classroom which has space for everyone to have an equal chance to participate in a mature, respectful, sensitive way is bourgeois. It necessarily means that when one person is talking, other people are not talking. This also means that we speak to each other like adults, without yelling, being emotional, without anger. hooks criticizes this practice mercilessly. Does this mean that in her class, people get to talk over her? Not listen to her? If she stops to ask them to wait their turn, is she sinking into the bourgeois? How can learning take place in public chaos?

2. She makes sweeping generalizations about class, race and culture with no attempt to quantify them. “From grade school on, we are all encouraged to cross the threshold of the classroom believing we are entering a democratic space . . . “ Really? Are we? Because I have to say, when I entered Sr. Catherine’s sixth grade room at my grade school, there was no mistaking who ran the show. It wasn’t me or any of the other uniformed kids fumbling our way through being eleven while sitting in a tyrant’s classroom. There was no democracy. I don’t know who “all” these people are that hooks knows who enjoyed that kind of thinking, the kind that makes a kid feel important and participatory in the education process, but that wasn’t my experience. And because she writes in narrative, she of course doesn’t bother to cite much of anything as far as other people’s work. I might as well be reading her diary.

3. She defends bad classroom behavior with “those of us from working-class backgrounds may feel that discussion is deeper and richer if it arouses intense responses” (187). Since the classroom is really a microcosm of the larger world, I guess hooks feels the same way about more public encounters as well. Those kids kicking the bleepity bleep out of each other in the playground? Well, they’re just having a deeper, richer discussion about who looked at whose girlfriend or who wore the wrong color to school today. Intense doesn’t have to be aggressive, ugly, threatening, violent. I have been in classes with people who subscribed to hooks’ ideas about “deeper and richer” discussions. These are the people that hold the belief that if they merely talk loudly enough, they win. Unfortunately for them, they’re often saying nothing, just making empty shouting.

4. Her discussion about the benefits of segregated schools for black children—that in segregated schools, black children are encouraged to learn, whereas in desegregated schools, they are encouraged to obey—was probably true in hooks’ personal context as a Southern child. However, she puts forth a very dangerous subtext here, which is that only black teachers can and should teach black children and only in all-black schools, regardless of what our Constitution frames out for us. I’ve met people who believe that and believe it with fervor, anger and open hostility. A certain high school in Cleveland is full of those people. They are doing more damage socially, intellectually and spiritually to their students than they can possibly imagine.

5. “I see many students from ‘undesirable’ class backgrounds become unable to complete their studies because the contradictions between the behavior necessary to ‘make it’ in the academy and those that allowed them to be comfortable at home, with their families and friends, are just too great.” (182). Really? This is her explanation for underperformance by SES students? Not, “they came in with poor study habits and low reading performance because their parents didn’t model for them” or “they lived in a poorly resourced district, so we have to plan ways to creatively and appropriately fill their gaps” or even the highly controversial “they continue to live in neighborhoods where their friends and often own families demonize success.” Here’s the thing. I want kids in risky living and economic situations to school their way to success. I know that they often require a lot of academic and social supports to do so, and I believe it is the university’s job to provide those supports, free of charge. But let’s call it what it is. The university cannot tolerate kids coming to class late, unprepared, wanting 100% accommodation while putting forth 0% effort. That is not support. That’s codependence. If that’s how they “feel comfortable” at home, doing whatever it is they want to do whenever they want to do it, and not adhering to rules and requirements, fine. But don’t complain that they are not hirable and not university material and that it’s everybody else’s fault. In that case, you got what you paid for.

6. Stop, stop, stop using the catchphrase “academy.” It’s irritating and by the time I get through six or seven pages of reading I’m just rolling my eyes.

7. She acts as if heterogeneity in a classroom is somehow a newfangled idea that she is unwilling to trust, sort of like my 74-year old mother with a new TV remote. “If we can trust the demographics, we must assume that the academy (eye roll) will be full of students from diverse classes, and that more of our students than ever will be from poor and working class backgrounds.” Well, yes. That is probably true, even if hooks distrusts the data because it was probably analyzed by some white guy in a polo shirt in some university office somewhere (I know that guy at CSU, his name is David Crumb, and yes, he is polo shirted every day). Every classroom is inherently heterogeneous, even if every kid sitting in every seat is black or if every kid is white. Teachers who overlook that are missing a big part of the picture. hooks acts like she invented this idea. Hmm.

8. “The scholarly field of writing on critical pedagogy and/or feminist pedagogy continues to be primarily a discourse engaged by white women and men.” (9) Again, no citations for this statement, no references. Who knows if this allegation is actually true. The subtext of course is that we should be dismissive of whatever is going on in critical pedagogy right now because it is still being represented by the oppressive class. I’m just glad somebody is still talking about feminism and I don’t care what they look like.

9. “My pedagogical practices have emerged from the mutually illuminating interplay of anticolonial, critical, and feminist pedagogies.” (10). I don’t know what this means. I think she’s just blowing smoke here.

10. “Teaching is a performative act . . . our work is not meant to be a spectacle.” This is true. I am not here for anyone’s entertainment. Teaching is all business for me, although it is immensely enjoyable and I often feel the buzz that actors must get when they know they are working the crowd. This is about the only thing in the hooks readings that doesn’t finagle my spine a little. Why can’t she be more like this and less like that?

That’s my last paper for this class. It’s 80 degrees, my children are outside playing, and I am tired from 15 weeks of serious, productive work. If we had read hooks earlier in the semester, this paper probably would have looked very different….but, knowing me, probably not.

West Side Wonderland, or, Why Does This Place Even Get a Zip Code?

2009-04-20T23:56:00.004-04:00

So my old friend from HN, Jeanette Fiedler Habyl Botsch, had a thing at her place on Sunday and I went. We hadn't talked in about 15 years but that's what happens in the world of Facebook....people find each other. Jeanette and I were tight for three years. She let me drive her car, we were in band together (yes, even band camp), sleepovers, you name it. Lots of stories there. Well, on the way to her place on the 1-4-8 in West Park I took the long way and drove down Lorain Ave. I stopped at Fridrich's to see how much a senior bike would cost me ($400) (in full disclosure, I was also tight with Keith Fridrich of the aforementioned, but he lives in Vegas now), the Kmart at 150th to buy garbage bags, in Jeanette's house, where I met that unusual animal, and finally to her door, where she looked as good as ever. Not a wrinkle.

The west side, at least off Lorain, is terrible. Terrible. Rarely have I seen places as run down and decrepit, and people, I lived in Camden NJ for two years. Jeanette is on 148th temporarily until she buys her ex-husbnd out of his share of their 3000 sq. ft. hosue in North Ridgeville. It's a good thing. I don't like the idea of having to go into Lorain County to see her, but my Lord. If I don't see that area of the city again in my life, I don't think I will suffer much.

Cleaning Again, or, That's going to be some garage sale

2009-04-12T19:09:00.003-04:00

I read an article by Erin Rooney Doland, editor of www.unclutterer.com. In it, she noted ten things that will help you get rid of your stuff. The trick is changing the way you think about your stuff.

Here's where it gets complicated for me.

I was raised by a Depression baby who was raised by a immigrant who is the world's leading authority on what she calls "frugality." I call it hoarding. My grandmother has her size 2 dress from her second wedding in 1953 (as well as the matching size 4.5 shoes), every cookbook the Pillsbury Bake Off published, every weird thing anyone ever gave her...you name it, she has it. My mother is also a keeper; her tag line every time I try to get rid of something is, "But you used to be so interested in [Irish history, Strawberry Shortcake dolls, Elvis]." Or worse, she will cluck her tongue and say, "Didn't [Grandma, Auntie, some old boyfriend's mother who got it at a garage sale] give that to you?" And back it goes to its home, where it remains, dust collecting and sad, waiting for an owner who will love it.

Not anymore.

Stuff I don't like is going away. Stuff that irritates me. Stuff that is worn, ugly, dirty, dated, impossible to coordinate, stuff that was given to me by dead people and people I don't like (often the same genre).....stuff I don't need, stuff that doesn't speak to my soul, stuff I will never again use professionally (lots of books fall into this category....I've held an M.A. in English for 13 years now, and I highly doubt that I will ever write the kind if literary criticism I did during that time in my life....so why hold onto 24 volumes on James Joyce? Just so people can peruse my bookcases and see them? Even I'm not that vain).

I am having a garage sale on June 13. I am going to bill it "The Best Damn Garage Sale You Will Attend This Year, and If You Miss It, You Will Be Sorry." I am selling it all....books, toys, the kids' cribs (hopefully I can unload them on Craig's List first), baskets, old ugly dishes, decor I hate...I am not fooling around. I can break the cycle of stuff insanity now. My kids deserve it.

Survived, or, Gentlemen, Start Your Coffeepots

2009-04-11T23:47:00.002-04:00

So it's been 39 days without coffee or ice cream. Upshot: lost 12 pounds, cleaned out my caffeine-addled liver, didn't have to pee 14 times before 10 am. Downside: even I admit I was cranky for a few days, but it didn't affect me physiologically in other ways--no shakes, which many people said I would have. I didn't crave other caffeineated items--I didn't start swigging Coke, for example. I pretty much switched to decaf hot tea in the morning and water the rest of the day and I was good.

Did I learn anything spiritually? I have to admit, no.

Do I feel like I'm a better person? Again, no.

Do I feel like I wasted my time? No. It was a good test of mettle, anyway. Labor was way, way harder.

Would I do it again? Lent is like taxes...every year you have to deal with it.

Plan for the morning? that coffee is going on at 7 am, rain or shine. Stop by and have a cup with me.

Poor Angie, or, Suck it Up, Girl

2009-03-31T00:20:00.001-04:00

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,511470,00.htmlFor eight years, I had to live in George Bush's America. And it sucked. This guy and his BFF Dick "I'm smarter than you because I say I am" Cheney ignored any damn part of the Constitution they wanted, including that wee bit about the powers of the Executive Branch, the First Amendment and the Fourth Amendment, and giggled about it like schoolgirls on the back of a field trip bus. They violated the Geneva Convention, told the Red Cross to shove it because they dared to state that the US was committing torture, and gave the Saudis, Wall Street, and anybody else who could make them money a wink and a smile and let them go about their business. And what happened if you said anything that could be remotely construed as criticism of their policies? You were un-American. You were against freedom. You weren't a patriot. You didn't honor the sacrifices of the men and women who serve in the military. You didn't honor 9/11. People I know, right now, believed and continue to believe this crap because George Bush sold them a culture of fear. And I had to listen to this dumbass stutter, strut and mispronounce "nuclear" for the better part of my thirties. And get re-elected. Unreal.

So now there's a guy in the White House who actually thinks that the Constitution is a good idea, that torture is a crime, that real freedom and patriotism means you're allowed to disagree with your government and they won't punish you for it, like tapping your phone, or looking at your mail, because after all, we're better than Stalin or the Gang of Four. But according to Texan and card-carrying GOP babe Angie Harmon, having Obama in the White House means she can't disagree with the President or else the media will call her a racist.

People still fear being called a racist, I suppose. It's a knee-jerk thing that nobody likes to talk about. However, is it worse to be called a racist by a tabloid media that makes up news and publishes "stories" that everyone knows is bullcrap, or is it worse to be called un-American and anti-patriotic by your own President, the same guy who seems to think that the FBI is his secret police and that, like Richard Nixon, whatever he does is legal because he and his lawyer say it is?

I think I know.

Brown, or, This is Terrible

2009-03-25T23:42:00.002-04:00

It was time today to bring out my summer things from the back of the closet and put a lot of heavy winter clothes away. I dumped out everything from my drawers and did a big clothing sort on the floor. Slowly, a disturbing pattern began to emerge. Everything that was ugly, worn out, misshapen, pilled, faded or otherwise wholly unwearable unless you're changing the oil in the car was brown. Light brown, dark brown, olive green brown, off brown, dirty tea cup brown. This means that I have been wearing this brown clothing all winter to the point of exhaustion, and it is so disheveled that I can no longer stand the sight of it. I used to have all cute clothes. This is not the example I need to be setting. In walks Emma.

"What is this?" she asks, swirling her tiny pointer finger at the mess on the floor. "Who did this?"

"I made this mess," I said. "These are Mommy's clothes."

She stared. First at the clothes, then at me. She made a face.

"I don't like this," she remarked, still swirling. "I don't like this at all." She paused. "This is a big ugly mess."

"Yes, Emma. It is."

More staring.

"Put this in the trash." And with that, she walked off in search of her twin.

When the two year old knows that your clothes are ugly, it's time to move on. I bought a pink lipstick today, wore a red tank top under my standard black t-shirt, and felt better immediately.

Ho Ho Cake, or, It's Not So Bad Not Eating Ice Cream

2009-03-15T23:16:00.004-04:00

So my Lenten deal of no coffee and no ice cream is going ok. Coffee is still very hard, especially in the mornings, and decaf tea just doesn't give me the kind of kick I'm usually looking for. The girls have taken to playing "coffee" with their little wooden coffee maker and I am the first one they come looking for when they have just poured a fresh "cuppa cuppa." How sweet.

I'm not really missing ice cream, however. I have somehow turned my off-ice-cream 40 days into an exploration of other desserts that are equally nice, if not more so. Case in point: cream puffs from Presti's and this giant Ho Ho cake at Grobles'. Presti's cream puffs might as well be heaven sent, and this Ho Ho cake is so decadent, so rich.

I don't feel bad about the caloric intake of these items, because they are few and far between. I'm not going to Presti's on even a weekly basis, much to my own and the girls' chagrin. And the Ho Ho cake was a nice treat. Nice, indeed. I could have wrestled Bill for the last of it tonight, but Lent is, after all, about restraint.

What I write about in my "free" time, or, the revolution is coming

2009-03-08T00:57:00.001-05:00

I have no idea what goes on in my head when I don’t understand something.

From Curriculum: Creating the Metacurriculum

In the five articles we read for this mod, no one turn of a phrase created a more succinct image than this. Imagine the speaker as a cartoon character, sitting in front of a text—any text—with the ubiquitous dialogue balloon over her heard and nothing in it but black scribbles. Every student has felt this kind of mental paralysis at one time or another. The content causing the trouble could be anything: fractions, Shakespeare, inert gases, the Rule Against Perpetuities. The challenge for students and their teachers becomes how to step back away from the discontent and decide how to approach the material in a fresh way, a workable way. Metacognition and its ally, metacurriculum, offer learners and their guiders tools to create spaces where thinking about thinking can be explored, discussed, and implemented. My position is that any subject can and should be “metacurriculum-ed” to meet the needs of diverse learners in a progressive school culture. The issues we need to frame in order to accomplish “metacurriculum-ing” include how to rebrand core content, how and what students would benefit, and how to sell it to a very demanding yet change-fearing public.

In “Curriculum: Creating the Metacurriculum” Perkins notes that Schoenfeld’s study on problem management yielded interesting results. Mathematics students who can self-analyze with such prompts as, ”Am I making progress with this approach?” or “How can I check my answer?” are better inquirers and users of mathematical principles. In “Teaching Intelligence,” Perkins also quotes Binet on the subject of self-analysis, noting that students need “mental orthopedics” in order to learn how to learn. Perkins wraps up the trifecta with a solid observation in “Content: Toward a Pedagogy of Understanding” that such understanding is not “either you get it or you don’t”; this approach is narrow, old-fashioned and wholly unworkable in today’s school culture. One way to move students away from this closed-ended world of being good at a subject (or not) is to rebrand the way we in effect market the discipline. Mathematics, rather than being a rote course of study that covers principles and formulae, transforms into a course on problem solving that utilizes mathematical principles to illuminate larger metacognitive concepts. No student likes to think of himself as a “bad problem solver,” yet this same student might too willingly put himself in the category of being “bad at math.” Take math out of the prime slot and shift the emphasis to, as Perkins describes, thinking about options, what has been tried, what worked, what didn’t and why, what is always right (Pythagorean theorem) and why that matters in the larger scope. Schools could use numerancy as a medium for conveying the larger metacognitive processes that extant mathematics curricula purports to illuminate but clearly fails to do, given the state of mathematics scores in many districts. The proposition is radical, certainly; it would change not only the way mathematics is taught but how mathematics teachers are taught to teach it. The end result, however, could be a whole new class of students who, because they can solve problems, can complete complex mathematical proofs with low frustration and high achievement. More importantly, these same students, because math was just media, could walk their problem solving skills out the classroom door and transfer them to social studies, science….or, just maybe, real life.

Could any student benefit from this remarketed, freshened up version of the American school curriculum? I posit yes. In “Teaching Thinking and Problem Solving,” Bransford, et. al. compartmentalize the IDEAL approach (identify, define, explore, act and look & learn) to problem solving. This method is so straightforward that it could be communicated even to kindergartners, who, having survived toddlerhood with all its developmental lurchings, could be led to understand it. Children are natural explorers; whether in struggling with bringing the abstraction of language down to the concrete (child holds up unfamiliar object and asks, “What is this?”) or in examining natural phenomena (“when the sun goes to sleep, the moon is awake”) children want to make sense of their environment. This is true even of children with differentiated learning needs, who also crave structure and order but may require an alternative route to create this kind of meaning for themselves. If the notion of problem-solving as paramount is highlighted in early childhood education, the results of the investment will begin to pay dividends almost immediately. Rather than suffering from the disconnect so many students experience on encountering higher-order skill based courses in middle school, children would be able to bring with them their intellectual suitcase of problem-solving techniques and expand on them to meet the new demands that the curricula imposes upon them. Again, the idea of redesigning early childhood programs to emphasize not preacademic skills but pre-LIFE skills (ideally, through play, which is how children learn best) is taking the train in the complete opposite direction of where we are going now (how many times have we heard, “kindergarten is the new first grade?”). However, for many children, particularly those on the autistic spectrum, teaching preacademic skills are for naught if they can’t expand their problem solving techniques in simple, everyday play situations. Would a play-based, problem-solving preschool without the esoteric trappings of, say, the Montessori method “go” in today’s climate? The bigger question is, why couldn’t it?

This brings up the last point in this exploration of metacurriculum, and that is the hard sell. Perkins and Grotzer rightly note in “Teaching Intelligence “ that instruction can help people to think better . . . such effects would not have the broad generality or the persistence of IQ.” If all we are concerned about as a culture is the quantifiable, then yes, my suggestions about revolutionizing curricula are but academic musings. But if we want, as we purport to want, children who can grow into adults who can solve problems, fix things, figure things out, get the job done, then isn’t teaching the process of solving, fixing, figuring, and getting really key? Don’t then the petty disputes between the disciplines become collateral to the bigger issue: producing great thinkers? A student who can think greatly—bigly—widely about many subjects can self-select the one she wants to uncover more deeply. Because she is a great thinker, she chooses more wisely, with better forethought, perhaps more enjoyment, and ultimately, with more long-term success. Making the paying public believe that exploding the curricula we now have isn’t academic terrorism is indeed a hard sell. Quantifiably, however, the data we get back from so many school districts is uniformly discouraging. Perhaps imploding what we have would actually be an opportunity to build an oasis in an existing intellectual desert.

Sisters

2009-03-06T22:02:00.002-05:00

Here I am with the Deputy Grand Matron of District 3, Sherry Kita, and her Grand Page, Judi Pisczak (standing) of the Order of the Eastern Star in Ohio. In other words, my friends and coworkers from 2006. Our girls have sure come a long way.

My mess, or, why can't this house stay clean?

2009-03-04T20:14:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning I spent 42 minutes walking around the house cleaning. This doesn't mean I was sweeping, or dusting, or doing dishes. I walked around the house picking up random things from the floor and putting them back where they are (theoretically, in my world view) supposed to go. Among the things I found just lying around:
1. One dress up shoe, purple, presumably Helen's.
2. One play TV from the dollhouse. Emma insists it's broken because it won't turn on.
3. One child's sock, purple (no idea where the mate is)
4. One sticker, floral, with sparkles
5. Mardi Gras beads, green, metallic
6. 6 play frogs, various colors, which are supposed to live on a bench in my kitchen, but had somehow migrated to the Sesame Street playset
7. One Little People person, Maggie, under the front hall cedar chest
8. One Snow White diaper, shoved into a doll buggy, presumably to hide it for safekeeping
9. One Bonne Bell lipgloss, mine, with a tooth divet in it. Emma doesn't believe they're not candy
10. One half of a blue plastic Easter egg. Again, no idea where the other half is, or how it even got into this house.

All I want is a clean, streamlined Scandivian-style house. What I got is an evolving, completely thrown together, always interesting mishmosh house. Not House Beautiful material. I love it, but man, when will I stop scrubbing dry erase marker off my kitchen wall?

My Solitary Life, or, Anne Morrow Lindbergh got it right

2009-03-01T10:44:00.002-05:00

We had a dance party for the girls yesterday with about 8 other neighborhood friends. (see 9.39 for photos). It was great getting ready, although I did fall into "hurry up hurry up" mode, which Bill really dislikes. After the commotion of working the room, and visiting with friends, it was nice to have the house quiet. This morning Bill took the girls to the zoo and I am just trying to wrap up my perpetual loose ends. I have always had a big interior life...I think I am essentially an introvert in that way, because big parties and going out isn't my idea of a lot of fun. There are days, like today, when my brain is telling me that I need solitude. I really believe, as AML did, that women can't manage everything they have to manage if they can't manage their own internal space. The struggle between constantly being on call and wanting silence creates a sad inertia, especially this time of year, when warm fresh air is infrequent and the house walls are giggling with dust, cracks, torn wallpaper and dull decor. I have read the new IKEA catalog about 20 times, imagining what I could do IF....and that can get depressing real quick. Having 120 precious minutes to myself, even without coffee to accompany me, can be just the thing the therapist ordered.

D Day plus 2

2009-02-27T23:29:00.003-05:00

I think what I miss about morning coffee is the ritual of it. Filling the basket, getting the water. It certainly isn't having to use the bathroom 20 times before 10, or know that I way loaded up on calories on stuff that doesn't give me a nice full feeling. I also miss the way the house smells like morning when coffee is on. A whistling tea kettle is nice, but that doesn't signal the beginning of a day to me. I don't think I'm cranky or at all unhappy biochemically. I don't think I need the caffeine of coffee the way others need nicotine, for example. I just miss the representation of it, the idea that about half a billion other people in the world start their mornings the same way, and that I was a part of that little community.

Oddly enough, ice cream has not been a challenge.

On the home decor front, we are rethinking the bathroom color to a warm cocoa, because we have blue edge tile and I think brown and blue is an incredibly sleek, modern combo. I am also thinking of ways to get more space in the girls' room. It may involve-gasp--a bunk bed. Stay tuned.

D-Day

2009-02-25T23:17:00.002-05:00

The first day of no coffee hasn't been terrible. Ellie skipped nap and didn't want snack (amazingly) so by 5:15 she was super squirrely. The twins were okay, except Helen reiterated her new line, "I don't want to listen to you!" at a moment when I didn't find it particularly endearing. I ran out of steam at 8 and laid in my bed for a half an hour, sort of asleep, sort of not. I don't know if that was an effect no caffeine or if my brain just needed a quiet place.

I also stayed true to my no-ice cream rule, which is hard, because Ellie likes a few bites before quiet time.

I have heard that if you do something for 21 days it's a habit. I have 20 years of coffee to unlearn in 40...will I go back to it like an old sheepish lover? Will I be resigned to only being a social drinker? Or will this experiment lead to a total foregoing of one of the longest relationships I have ever had?

40 days and counting, or, Coffee, I hardly knew ye

2009-02-24T22:52:00.002-05:00

I haven't done anything for Lent in a couple of years. Two years I was pregnant and did not feel it was in my best interest to restrict my diet. I am just sort of in limbo with Church requirements because I'm not sure anymore whose interests they are serving. But this year, I decided to give up both coffee and ice cream for the entire 40 days.

Here's the thing with ice cream--it just tastes good. I like it.

But coffee.

I love. Love. Love coffee. I have had at least one cup every day (except when I was pregnant) for the last 20 years. I cannot tell you how much I anticipate that pot filling up every morning with hot, glorious brew. And it's not just coffee. It's the cream, the opaque beauty of it dropping into the cup plip plop, and the sugar. Well, Splenda. Which is just Splendid (damn marketroids).

It's a zillion calories a day I don't need. Let's not talk about the caffeine. Because I need to be MORE jazzed up, right?

My blood pressure is too high and I would like to be 20 pounds less by the first family wedding of the year, which is July 19.

And I have my 20th HS reunion this year. Don't even get me started on what that will cost me in dermatology and dental bills.

So I am giving up two things I love as a sacrifice for Lent, but ultimately the sacrifice benefits me. Does it count? I don't know if I can have the theological argument about it and win. But at least I might be off Sular by June.

Frustrated, or, I thought I was smarter than this

2009-02-22T07:46:00.002-05:00

I do not understand iTunes. I don't understand why it just doesn't just work like I think it should, i.e. buy song, pop in a CD, burn said song to CD, have music--->will travel. There are all kinds of "support" pages for my trouble (people, I just want to listen to Kelly Clarkson in the privacy of my own van). So now Bill has to get involved in my learning curve, which can cause all kinds of problems for me if HE gets frustrated that I don't understand (anyone else have a husband who, when you say "my computer is doing X" just pulls at your chair and says, "MOVE"?)

I want things to work the way I want them. I want stuff to work at my intuitive level. Why is that so hard?

Goodbye, friend.

2009-02-08T00:33:00.003-05:00

Miss Wendy was Ellie's dance teacher last year and the twins take her class with one of her colleagues, Miss Nancy. As you can see, Wendy was a young, vibrant, beautiful mother, teacher and inspiration. I can't even believe that I have to write that we lost her this week. I took this photo of her in April.

Wendy is her own shining star now.

One done.

2009-02-01T21:16:00.002-05:00

The finished result....functional and FREE, since I haven't painted them yet (when the weather breaks and I can keep the side door open I'll freshen the up). One job off my list. We start the bathroom tomorrow!

The shelves were pretty grody, I have to say. Too long ignored.

An unworkable mess. All these stuff will either live in the garage, on shelving in the basement, or got pitched.

Just for the record.

2009-01-30T20:22:00.003-05:00

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28939439/

http://www.newsweek.com/id/182355

So now the truth about this octuplet mess is starting to leak out, as the truth inevitably does, and I have to say I am pretty horrified at this turn of events. Initially, I was thinking, well, this woman must have gone to pretty serious lengths to either get pregnant or maintain a pregnancy. Just from having friends who have gone through various kinds of fertility therapies I understand that not every embryo in an IVF situation takes, or not every monthly Clomid cycle will ultimately end in a multiple birth. Chances are better, sure, but it's not a guarantee. So when the octuplet story initially broke, I imagined that this woman was childless, the clock was clanging, her doctor was perhaps a little more aggressive than I would have wanted (but everyone likes the doctor they like)....and she ended up with 8, and for a lot of reasons, many of which I don't personally understand, she decided to carry them all, presumably because she wanted to (in her mind) maximize her chances of having any babies, and probably for some religious reasons thrown in.

Oh, how wrong I was.

This woman has six living children. It wasn't that she had six pregnancies and lost them. No, no. She has delivered six living human beings. They are living in her house. She isn't childless. She is the exact opposite of childless. She has 200% more children than I do, right now. And yet she sought fertility treatments? And some clown who probably bought his medical degree from some school in Granada gave it to her? And gave her EIGHT EMBRYOS right off the bat? For what? To prove it could be done? To put this woman in a position of having FOURTEEN CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF SEVEN? Does anyone else see how utterly insane and unworkable this situation is?

I had twins. It wasn't eight. It wasn't even three. It was two. And Ellie was 15.5 months old when they were born. And I will tell you right now that it's a good thing I took lots of pictures the first year of the twins' life, because I almost remember nothing from it. There were plenty of days where I had 2 hours' sleep, for days in a row, for weeks in a row. Helen couldn't digest anything with lactose in it and until we switched her to soy she never slept more than 45 minutes straight for about 8 weeks. You have no idea how horrible it is to have a premature baby who can't, won't sleep. And then Emma was on a completely different schedule (and I was nursing her) and let's not forget Ellie, who still was a baby herself. And I had lots of help, paid, unpaid, related, unrelated but might as well be. I wasn't trying to do it by myself, although Bill did have to go back to work and I had to figure it out. I didn't go to the grocery store with all three of them until the twins were about 6 months old. I didn't really go anywhere for about six months because the twins were small, I needed to avoid the possibility of RSV, and Ellie wasn't a confident walker, so how was I going to manage in public? We easily did 30 to 40 diapers a day some days for a long time. Formula is $25 a can--and one can maybe lasted us a week? I don't even remember. The Target bills were just horrific.

And here's the upside--my twins were a decent size for their gestational age (4.9 and 4.5, in birth order) and had no medical problems. None. Helen came home at a week. Emma had one episode of heart arrythmia and had to stay in the hospital five extra days. That was it. No GI tubes, no heart monitors, no nothing. My c-section was standard, nonemergent, and I recovered normally. Yet I have met women at the rehab hospital where Ellie gets OT who had twins the same gestational week (33.5 weeks) whose children have cerebral palsy, are deaf, have seizures, had major heart defects, had collapsed lung, you name it. One woman lost one of her twins to bowel necrosis and the living child has epilepsy. This is aside from any trouble the mothers had after delivery, like hemorraging or other complications. And all I did was walk away with two super healthy kids, typically developing, and sassy as hell. I can't explain it. That's the miracle part, for me.

But what has happened in California...I don't think I would call it a miracle. I don't think I know what to call it. I think some serious investigating needs to be done into this doctor's decisionmaking process. I definitely think social services needs to be on call to get this family on track, because they do not even know what they are in for. Would I give this woman a psych eval? You betcha.

Just because science makes it possible for something to be done does not mean it should be done. I don't feel good about anything in this octuplet story. I don't think babies should have to start out life at under 2 pounds, in incubators, unable to be nursed or held. In a single or even twin situation, sometimes that happens, although doctors are really good at getting that NOT to happen. In a super multiple situation, over five or six babies, it's sort of a given. Is that fair to these children, to put them at risk for stroke, cognitive delay, major organ malfunction? Just because science said, We can do this?

Winter Fun, or, Lord, it gets cold here

2009-01-22T21:03:00.004-05:00

No, I didn't take the kids out in -9 degrees. But as soon as the temp crept up towards 25, out we went on Sunday. The snow was powdery, so no snowman, but we had a good time flopping around and making snow food in their play house, which stays outside. Everything went great until Helen took off her mittens, got cold, got upset and cried, threw up from being upset and crying, and had to be put to bed at 11:30 am. The funny thing is that being in the snow is as fun as I always remembered it to be, and I regret not playing in it more every year. I won't make that mistake again.

Finally.

2009-01-20T23:06:00.000-05:00

Sick by the numbers

2009-01-11T20:00:00.002-05:00

This flu I have had is the sickest I can remember being in my adult life. I know that sounds dramatic, but I am not by nature a sickly person, and I don't count painful or lengthly post-childbirth maladies, even with a c-section, as being "sick." Here's the score on what has gone on since Wednesday, when this thing really blew up:

5 number of days I have been wholly incomprehensible, incoherent, and otherwise cognitively disengaged

8 number of pajama/housepant/tshirts that I sweated through, unsuccessfully, in an attempt to break my fever

8 number of showers I took to facilitate this effort plus get the fever gink off me, as well as drain my ever-pounding impacted sinuses

5 number of meals I ate, in order: soup, 1/2 a bowl of coco puffs (a mistake, and Emma ate the other half), toast (also a mistake, the texture of bread nearly killed me), soup, and soup

6 cups of tea, which went down ok, but because I wasn't eating anything, gave me a little heartburn on top of everything else

1 box of tissues

4 packs of nighttime theraflu, which saved me

3 kids who still love their unfun, sick mother

6 average number of daylight hours I was passed out on the couch or in bed

1 vaporizer, which like a birdbrain I didn't remember we had until today, when I should have been using it all weekend

1 great husband who took care of everything, and therefore saved my universe

Sick, or, Sick

2009-01-09T19:37:00.002-05:00

I don't have a lot going on right now because I have the flu. The full body ache, fever, lay around the house flu. And yes, I got the flu shot, which my mother accused me of NOT getting (as if it's my fault that I am down for the count). I was sick enough that Bill had to take a sick day to care for the children, who I was absolutely unable to care for. Thanks, Bill. Everyone was happier for your efforts.

Happy New Year

2009-01-04T20:55:00.002-05:00

In case you think all I do is follow the kids around and take their pictures, be assured that my plate is quite full with plans for the house this winter.

1. Refigure the basement. Here's the thing: we probably have a good sized working basement space (not counting the finished part, which is the kids' train room). But it's definitely not used efficiently. Bill had mentioned moving my washer/dryer over, building himself a new workbench (Family Handyman has plans for one) and then setting up a a dry goods/large cookware storage unit where his big, bulky, unwieldly so-called "workbench" is currently. Well, I'm all for it. I would like a nicer wash area, including a new slop sink. I would like big, sturdy shelving for stored can goods, soups, sauces, etc. (Sometimes Zagara's has sauce 5/$5.00. Well, who can pass it up? At the same time, who can store it? Exactly). I have an enormous lobster pot that has been inexplicably living in the attic because I have no where to put it. Insane. We need a better system. So this is hot on the agenda for me.

2. I think the time has come to admit that the main bathroom has to be dealt with. The wallpaper is peeling back, there's mold growing behind it (yes, it's visible, and yes, it's gross, and yes, I know it. Believe me), and the sink has a leak problem anyway. We have all the hardware for it--when Expo went out of business Bill cleaned them out of the hardware we knew we'd need for it. Well, I just don't think we can postpone it any longer. I posit that we strip the wallpaper, clean and Kill's the walls, and paint in one or two bright colors (I vote for deep cobalt and hot orange). Fix the sink, change the hardware, and move on. We are not talking a Groble-sized bathroom redo. That is not in the plans for...well, a long time. But we have been in this house now 7 years in February, and I believe that my patience for the floral-stripe-monstrosity in the bath has come to an inevitable end. I'm also hating the window treatment. So, the time has arrived.

3. We have built in cubbies just inside the side door (which also needs replaced). I have a yearning to get the junk out of them--this is stuff that should technically live in the garage, like car cleaning accessories, and planters, and fill dirt--paint them, and use them as a pseudo-mud room area for the kids' shoes, which now live in a planter basket in my living room. Yes. You read that right. Also insane. The cubbies we have are totally wasted on what we use them for. The children are old enough--and Emma is bossy enough--to be able to manage their own cubby for shoes, hats, boots, etc. and not trek filth through the house. Ellie does it at school! She can do it at home, and so can the little ones. This is also a project about which I am hot to trot.

Here are some links to my ideas. Enjoy.

http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/878025/index.cfm?clg=32&bnrid=3180501&cm_ven=FRO&cm_cat=Shopping&cm_pla=default&cm_ite=default

Colors: cobalt glaze, orange zest, sweet apricot and glacial tint from www.behr.com

Christmas, or, Santa Exploded

2008-12-25T23:19:00.003-05:00

I did not go nuts this year for the girls for Christmas. They got a dollhouse, a double buggy, some markers and Playdoh, and a little cookset. Various other family members (my mother, Aunt Terry, Uncle KC, Grandma) got them outfits, a Little People car-ramp thing, some books (thank you Miss Mantha) and baby dolls. I stuck with what I thought would be successful. Right now the kids are in that "mimic" stage--they cook because I cook. They clean because I clean. Their play is experiential and experimental. They are learning how to control their world through activity. I gotta go with that.

Dinner was a non-event in that it was zero pressure. I made a roast with root vegetables, crab dip, little hot dogs, a pickle tray, some rolls for the kids to eat with hummus, and mashed potatoes. Dessert was mini eclairs for the girls and chocolate cream pie for us. Yes, I made eggnog and it was good.

The girls all wore play dresses today although Ellie preferred not to wear pants and Helen flat out refused. She is on a pants strike. Emma of course wore pants and sparkly shoes all day. Gotta be ready to meet her public.

Emma actually provided two highlights for me today. This morning, when she came downstairs and saw the double buggy, she walked over to it, looked into the tree and said "Thank you, Santa." (I got it on video). The second was when Samantha brought her kids to visit Emma took Asher's hand and said, "Come on, baby. You want to play dollhouse?" Later she went in time out for both throwing and sassing, but that doesn't diminish her otherwise excellent day.

I just wanted to stay home and love my family. What a perfect day.

Pageant, or, You Have to See It To Believe It

2008-12-22T20:53:00.002-05:00

Here's what you need to know about the Laubacher Christmas Pageant:

1. It is not like "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever," with the Herdmans, although Mike Nalepka suggested that to me and I find it funny.

2. Yes, there is a real pageant, with real acts.

3. Yes, everyone in the family tries to comply. With varying levels of success.

4. There has been an Official Pageant since 1984, which is a long time to have a thing go, and go, and go.

5. The Sellers seem to be the most prolific Pageant participators, although the KC Laubachers are always enthusiastic.

6. This year the girls were supposed to help Bill and I sing "The Friendly Snowman." Ellie bolted, Helen decided to chalk behind Aunt Terry and Emma did the motions but not everyone could see her. Oh well. There really IS always next year.

The Party, or, This House is Too Nice for Us, Redux

2008-12-16T22:44:00.005-05:00

Hello. This beauty was in a bathroom.

Blue is for boys.

This was quite rustic and Millard Fillmore-ish. Lots of game, feathers, golds and red. Quite mannish.

This all gold baby was in the dining room.

The pink family room tree, complete with feathers, dolls, birds, and flowers.

Ode to the big guy. Oh, he's coming to this house all right.

The "Grinch" tree in BoBo's office.

The Great Room tree. I cannot even tell you how amazing it was in person.

Just happy to be here.

On Saturday we were invited to what is apparently known as "Fiesta de BoBo," which is a funny way of saying we were invited to Mike Nalepka's Aunt Bonnie's Christmas Party. It was in Kirtland, which other than the Mormon stuff holds very little interest for me culturally. I especially wanted to go because the Lowes were going to be there, and we get to see them too infrequently. I was sick as a dog but I made myself pretty, left the kid with my mother, and hit the road.

Well.

Nobody told me that the house was a palace. Nobody told me that there was a Christmas tree in the front room with 12,900 lights on it. Nobody mentioned the tree in EVERY room, and the villages, and the doo dads, and the amazing food, and the very nice champagne, which I couldn't drink because I was on meds, but boy it looked pretty. I walked around like I was a tourist. I didn't care. It was probably the most beautiful private home I have ever been in, and of course I took pictures. These are just some of the ones I snapped. Embarrassed? Heck no. I took a hostess gift and sent a thank you card. My manners are always in place.

Getting the Tree and Nela Park, or, This is how traditions get started

2008-12-12T20:13:00.005-05:00

7 foot Frasier fir on the way.

We got our tree last Saturday, which is unusually early. Bill's birthday is December 9 and the general rule since we got married has been never to decorate for Christmas until after that date. He feels, and I agree, that a lot of December birthday kids get gypped because well-meaning, overextended, deluded parents think that combining birthday and Christmas is a good idea. It's not. But this year the 9th was also a Tuesday, which meant that we either waited until the following weekend to get a tree, which would significantly lessen our chances of getting a good one, or do it early. Obviously, we had to do the latter. We always get a Frasier fir, because I like the shape and the needle quality (my parents were Douglas fir people, and the needles were just too bendy for heavy ornaments). We also always get it from the same guy, but we've had to follow him around Lyndhurst for a few years. He was next to a funeral parlor for a while, then the Methodist church on Green. Now he's in front of the Episcopal church on Cedar, next to that perpetually-in-construction synogoge near Legacy Village. His trees are good and reasonable--we've paid $72 the last 4 years that we can remember. This year we let the girls out to help and fortunately no Ralphie "Fudge.........." incidents occurred (come on Christmas Story fans, you know what I mean). Then we zipped through the drive through at Dunkin' Donuts, got Munchkins (for them) and hot chocolate (for us) and took the kids down Green and swung back up Noble in East Cleveland past Nela Park.

http://www.gelighting.com/na/business_lighting/education_resources/conferences/institute/fun_facts.htm

The display was great this year and the girls really enjoyed it. We turned around 3 times just so they could really get a sense of how pretty everything was. Ellie is very into lights this year ("where's more Chistmas lights?" is a constant refrain) so Nela was a winner. I'm proud that Nela continues to put the effort into this display. It never fails to impress me.

We'll take the kids Christmas light sight-seeing a couple more times this year because they are old enough to enjoy it. I love when I hear Emma squeal, "OOOOOOOOOOOOOH" from her back seat. That makes the whole thing worth it.

FIESTA, or, What's life wiithout new plates?

2008-11-29T19:50:00.003-05:00

Showing off our finds. The persimmon cup is a replacement for Sarah Smith, who will be sad to find out her color is retired.

You'll be glad you have a library card--check me out.

Victory is ours.

Bill dutifully hauls plates and considers servingware.

Happiness.

I have a plate problem. I love dishware. I don't know what my thing is about it--meaning, is it the way it looks so organized in the cupboard? Is it the way it makes my food look? Is it the way it looks on the table? I just love new plates, coordinated, neat. I have several sets of dishes: the official Christmas set, Royal Holiday (Pfaltzgraff), Longaberger mix and match plates (only in sage, paprika, or butternut), daytime "winter" plates (also Longaberger), plain ivory china with a beading pattern (I think it was called Manhattan), and Farmer's Market (also Pfaltzgraff, but discontinued). I'm not saying I always aspired to Fiesta, although I love it and admire it at other people's houses. SSS has it in persimmon, my mother has it in shamrock and tangerine, and Pat G. has it in scarlet, tangerine, shamrock and cobalt. Oh, sunshine, too. Well, count me in. We braved the fierce wilderness of East Liverpool and traversed the mighty Ohio to get into Newell, West Virginia, to the Homer Laughlin factory and second-hand room. Holy God. Yes, you have to rummage. Yes, you start to think you need every single piece you see. Yes, you wish you had brought your own hand truck and another warm body to carry stuff. Such a fun trip, and so much fun with fun people. Same time, next year.

Just Helen at Presti's, or, COOKIES.

2008-11-23T23:15:00.004-05:00

It's very rare that just one child gets to go with me anywhere and even rarer that it's Helen. So constant and easy, which makes it hard to remember that she is just in need of individual attention. I took her to Presti's to get bread and pastries and treated her to her own cookie and chocolate milk, no sharing with sisters. She dutifully ate half the cookie, took a few sips of milk, and then stood in awe in front of the pastry case. This kid knows a good thing when she sees it.

The Randy Kaplan Show, or, This House is Too Nice For Us

2008-11-09T22:51:00.003-05:00

Ellie appropriately attired for the rock and roll crowd.

Yes, those chairs are leather. Yes, Emma is smearing frosting on them.

Emma is not that tall. Yes, she is jumping on that couch. With Tanqueray glimmering in the background.

Relaxing in front of the bajillion dollar TV.

Is this a living room or an atrium? Oh wait. Both.

My dear friend Samantha invited us to a children's show at her friend Steve's place in Pepper Pike. The artist is Randy Kaplan, who is increasingly well-known in the hipster kid's music crowd (sort of like our own Justy Justin, Justin Roberts, or Brady Rymer, or Farmer Jason, or the ubiquitous Laurie Berkner). Anyway, Steve has a nice house--really, really nice--and his kids are older and apparently able to keep the house in pristine condition. The girls lasted just over an hour before Emma started with, I need yogurt! I need hummus! And we had to bolt. However, there was spontaneous dancing, and quite a bit of interest in Randy's guitar. What a terrific morning.

This is a real person, not a "troop."

2008-11-06T19:47:00.002-05:00

This is my brother in law Matt, who is clearly not where he should be, which is in his house with his wife and dogs. He is also Ellie's godfather. He could be wherever he is for half a year or more.

I don't know how George Bush sleeps at night.

Halloween, or, Look at that get-up

2008-11-02T21:12:00.003-05:00

Helen is really, really into crowns. That's what she's looking at here--my borrowed Cinderella crown. My next post will explain why. Nothing can explain my blue, blue eyeshadow.

By this time, at Smiths, Ellie was a little Halloweened out.

But she was still rocking the Liberace costume.

Here, Helen has just realized that people are Giving. Us. Candy. OH MY GOSH.

Emma here has just heard the word "cupcake."

The kids went as Liberace (Ellie), Swedish Chef (Helen), Beaker (Emma). Their candy is currently hidden. I think they had fun--they asked to go trick or treating the next night. Why is it only once a year? Well, it wouldn't be so darn spectacular if it were common.

Pumpkins, Pie, Perfect

2008-10-26T20:14:00.002-04:00

Pie. HELLO.

Emma rocking the froggie wellies and the bink.

I have a death grip on her because she just wanted to climb the straw house, a la Three Little Pigs.

So pretty.

Dadd and Ellie get ready for a great adventure.

We decided to try the ever-popular and heavily touted Patterson's Fruit Farm for our Sunday jaunt. www.pattersonfarm.com They have a "Family Fun Fest" with hayrides and other attractions at their location on Mulberry, but we decided to just do the real farm, buy some pumpkins, and let the girls run. What a great idea! There was a terrific hay house that they enjoyed climbing, I bought a pecan pie, and we got two great pumpkins to carve during It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown on Tuesday night. It was a little windy. I regretted not packing hats. But the kids loved it and I would do it again in other seasons too, just to give them a chance to be outside. Tired, air-freshed kids are happy kids.

My Eileen Fisher Jacket, or, What I Wore to the Election

2008-10-24T20:51:00.003-04:00

The most important little black circle I may ever fill in. Go, Obama, go.

The jacket, the twins, and a good day at the BOE.

A throwaway scarecrow for Sarah Starr. The head looks handmade. Bravo, crafty people.

Is it hot in here, or......

2008-10-22T21:02:00.002-04:00

I'm just a schoolgirl at heart.

Oh, Helen.

2008-10-20T23:20:00.002-04:00

Rocking the Sleeping Beauty diaper. On her head. at 7:30 a.m. What could be better.

Fun Stuff of Late

2008-10-18T20:18:00.004-04:00

There's no there there, as Gertrude Stein would say. The whole UC complex at CSU is but a memory. This view from the library walkway is interesting, in that before the demolition, it wasn't possible.

Bill's new T-shirt. Emma is fan.

Zoo Day, Sunday, October 12. Perfect weather. We did the Northern Trek only, had lunch up there, went to Wolf Lodge. A joy.

Troops to Teachers, or, Lord, He Screwed THAT Up

2008-10-16T12:44:00.002-04:00

John McCain mentioned Troops to Teachers in last night's debate. Naturally, my ears perked up. He said that it was a program to let retired and discharged soldiers go into education as a second career without having to worry about certifications and passing examinations.

WHAT?

Bill said I turned into Cartman's mother. "What what what?!?" How could this be? How could some guy just get his discharge papers and walk into a classroom teacher position with no "teacher school" training? No Praxis? NO LICENSE? I mean, yes, being in service comes with valuable experience that should not be wasted. But you wouldn't let a combat medic walk into UH and start performing orthopedic surgery. Are his skills needed? Sure. But just like medicine, teaching is a profession. And professions need licensure.

So I called Troops to Teachers this morning in Columbus. A very nice woman named Veronica took my call. A nice, really shocked woman named Veronica. I told her why I was calling and she said, "McCain just got all his facts wrong. We are a transition program for retired and honorably discharged servicemen and women. They must complete all the necessary requirements for licensure. They are bound by Praxis. Yes, they can get their license under the state-approved alternative route. But to say that they can just become teachers with no training and no license, no." I said, "What did you think when he came up with that?" She said, "I almost threw up. And I prepared myself for all the calls I'm going to get today."

Good going, Johnny. Idiot.

http://www.ode.state.oh.us/GD/Templates/Pages/ODE/ODEPrimary.aspx?page=2&TopicRelationID=560

The Perfect Pie and Poetry Party, or, Welcome to Obvious World

2008-10-11T18:56:00.004-04:00

Sarah Smith and her bud Annie had a pie party. Yes, it was a Poetry and Pie Party on Parkdale. We cut up dozens of paint chips from the Depot to make found-word poems, ate pie, laughed, ate pie, read our poems and clicked our fingers, ate pie, looked at each other's poems (they were pretty as well as pretty good), ate pie. I mean, it was just really, really great.

New things the kids like, or, where the **** do they get this stuff?

2008-10-10T23:58:00.002-04:00

1. Helen likes Sleeping Beauty. Really, really likes her. "Watch Sleeping Beauty?" Here's the thing--she doesn't watch the movie. The plot is too complicated and the songs aren't that terrific (no Bippity Boppity, for example.) Are Flora, Fauna and Merriweather cool? Sure. Who wouldn't want a sparkly wand to clean the house? But I fear that Helen is treading down the dreaded Princess path, and I cannot have that.

2. Harold and the Purple Crayon. Well, who wouldn't.

3. The word "pie." See #2.

4. Harry Belafonte and Liberace. My kids are like 90 year old women.

5. Wearing backpacks. This is a new thing. They don't put anything in their backpacks. They don't even take them out of the house. Ellie just likes to stand in her mirror and look at herself wearing her backpack. The twins just like to have them on when they're playing.

6. Other people's babies. Margaret had a baby last week and when I explained to the twins that a new baby was going to live at their house, Emma said, "We need a new baby." Helen chimed in, "We'll get her at Target." I've heard them plotting this new addition since, especially after they wake up from nap.

7. M & M's.

8. Brushing their teeth with Sleeping Beauty toothpaste. See #1.

9. Swimming.

10. Rummaging through my closet to put on my shoes. Gender roles, here we come.

The kind of stuff I think about....really

2008-10-06T21:33:00.002-04:00

1. I know way too much stuff about the early years of the space program for someone who isn't 12 or a boy. I have a favorite astronaut (John W. Young, Gemini 3, Apollo 10, Apollo 16). I know the difference between the CMP and the LMP. I have In the Shadow of the Moon on DVR and have watched it, oh, I don't know. 10 times maybe?

2. Don't get me started on biographies about the above.

3. Gene Cernan's (Gemini 9, Apollo 10, Apollo 17) is good, by the way.

4. I keep wondering if anyone is going to do a biopic of Leni Riefenstahl, Sonje Henje, Amelia Earhart or Dorothy Fuldheim.

5. I am thinking of getting little business cards made about ASD to hand out to idiots who think I'm a nut because I walk through the grocery store singing to my children. The twins think it's funny, but Ellie really needs it.

6. I know I have a great book in my head, but I don't know when I will have time to write it. So I just write parts of it, or make plans for it, while I do other things. Pages 223-225 got done while I folded laundry today.

7. I miss my friend Sally Hicks, who now lives in Montana, and even my children miss her.

8. I miss my friend Lynn more, and she just lives in Baltimore, and I can't even talk about it sometimes, it's so painful.

9. I have a new idea for an ice cream: pretzel marshmallow fudge ripple.

10. Book club is just a few weeks away, and already I'm counting the days.

Karma is, as they say, a B.

2008-10-05T00:07:00.004-04:00

Like most people, I have a few "where were you/what were you doing" events in my life.

1. John Lennon being shot. It was a breaking story on the news. I think John Chancellor may have been the reporter. My grandparents were over for dinner. My grandmother lit a cigarette and said, "Well, what do you expect? All those kids are on dope."

2. The Challenger explosion. I was in high school algebra. I think we might have gone to Mass. I know we watched it on the news and I remember thinking, that thing just BLEW UP. You have to remember that in my lifetime NASA had not had a major catastrophe. I wasn't born at the time of The Fire. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo_1_fire So I was not used to things not going well for our space program. It was very upsetting for my mother, because she was very excited and proud of Christa McAuliffe.

3. 9/11, which I still can't talk about, really.

4. The OJ verdict. I was in my last year of graduate school and had just signed up to take the LSAT. I sat in my apartment and cried, cried, cried. I just thought, that's it. This pig of a person is going to walk around for the rest of his life knowing that he gave the finger to just about everybody. He butchered two people and he flirted his way through the trial and the jurors were too dazzled by his Heisman and his smile to see the truth.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/10/04/oj.simpson.verdict/index.html

I guess OJ can interview all the guys he'll be locked up with and see if they have any insight into who the real killer is.

Won't you take me to....Funkytown?

2008-09-29T23:17:00.005-04:00

Gotta get off the Sarah Palin thing because it really doesn't make me happy, just annoyed, and a little cynical. Now the girls doing the disco spin...that's happiness.

Some other news of late...I'm again planning a shower, this time a baby shower, for Bill's cousin Andy. She's having her first baby and no one was going to step up to the plate for it, so I took one for the team. It's fine. I enjoy doing it.

Working on two books, Last Man on the Moon by Eugene Cernan, which I highly recommend, and The Host by Stephenie Meyer, for book club.

Trying to figure out Halloween costumes. I was originally going to go with Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker, but those are pretty abstract for toddlers. Then I thought of Fozzie Bear, the Swedish Chef, and Beaker, and these are in the lead. I could totally wimp out on creativity and get $29 pumpkin costumes from Pottery Barn Kids, but I haven't hit desperation yet.

Rosh Hashana is upon us, and so naturally the weather appears to have turned. My 93 year old grandmother says that every year, as soon as the Jewish holidays hit, the weather goes south. And you know, I have to say, every year she's right. As soon as Jewish New Year shows up it gets cold and rainy and the system hangs around until after Yom Kippur. I wonder there is a theological connection, or at least a metaphysical one.

I'm tied for seventh in my Dead Pool. At least I'm tied with my husband. That old crow Zsa Zsa Gabor has stuck me seven years running. How is it that she's not dead yet? Now I have to keep picking her, because time is running out for her regardless. My next year's list has a lot of old-school astronauts on it (but not John Young), and probably Abe Vigoda.

I got nothing else.

Katie, you are your mother's child.

2008-09-28T19:50:00.002-04:00

Just when I thought the Groble contribution to my blog (and life) could not get better. See Katie Groble Flynn's blog (Grandma, I'm still alive)------>for some video goodness on the PANTHER way of thinking.

Thanks, Pat.

2008-09-26T15:44:00.000-04:00

http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/09/26/chris.rock.lkl/index.html

Chris Rock gets it.

Watch this.

2008-09-24T10:49:00.002-04:00

I hope this link works.

The House We Live In
http://137.148.110.32/Race.mov

Also, John McCain didn't leave his first wife "for" Cindy McCain. His first wife noted he left her because he didn't want to be 40, he didn't want to be old or an adult. Cindy just showed up later. So that was a snarky barb at him that by his first wife's own admission is untrue. Bad Tim.

Also, I have no knowledge about Sarah Palin leaking amniotic fluid for 24 hours before going to the hospital and I have no idea how anyone would know. I think it's disingenuous for Tim to imply that this caused Trig's particular developmental challenges and I don't like that he even mentioned it in his column.

I got this from Lindy Burt, who is smart.

2008-09-23T21:00:00.001-04:00

From Tim Wise, "This is Your Nation on White Privilege" (opednews.com)
For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.

White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge youor your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.

White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck,"like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as aresponsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) ratherthan a thug.

White privilege is when you can attend five different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of,then returned to after making up some coursework at a communitycollege), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.

White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S.Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."

White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added untilthe 1950s--while if you're black and believe in reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school, requires it), you are adangerous and mushy liberal who isn't fit to safeguard American institutions.

White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you.

White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of anextremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto is "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.

White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right ofwomen to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an endto child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college and the fact that she lives close to Russia--you're somehowbeing mean, or even sexist.

White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because suddenly your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."

White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being
a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.

White privilege is when you can take nearly twenty-four hours to get to a hospital after beginning to leak amniotic fluid, and still be viewed as a great mom whose commitment to her children is unquestionable, and whose "next door neighbor" qualities make herready to be VP, while if you're a black candidate for president and you let your children be interviewed for a few seconds on TV, you're irresponsibly exploiting them.

White privilege is being able to give a 36 minute speech in which you talk about lipstick and make fun of your opponent, while laying out nosubstantive policy positions on any issue at all, and still manage to be considered a legitimate candidate, while a black person who gives an hour speech the week before, in which he lays out specific policy proposals on several issues, is still criticized for being too vague about what he would do if elected.

White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers whos ay the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department ofDefense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.

White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.

White privilege is being able to go to a prestigious prep school, then to Yale and then Harvard Business school, and yet, still be seen asjust an average guy (George W. Bush) while being black, going to a prestigious prep school, then Occidental College, then Columbia, and then to Harvard Law, makes you "uppity," and a snob who probably looks down on regular folks.

White privilege is being able to graduate near the bottom of your college class (McCain), or graduate with a C average from Yale (W.)and that's OK, and you're cut out to be president, but if you're blackand you graduate near the top of your class from Harvard Law, you can't be trusted to make good decisions in office.

White privilege is being able to dump your first wife after she'sdisfigured in a car crash so you can take up with a multi-millionaire beauty queen (who you go on to call the c-word in public) and still bethought of as a man of strong family values, while if you're black and married for nearly twenty years to the same woman, your family isviewed as un-American and your gestures of affection for each otherare called "terrorist fist bumps."

White privilege is when you can develop a pain-killer addiction,having obtained your drug of choice illegally like Cindy McCain, go onto beat that addiction, and everyone praises you for being so strong,while being a black guy who smoked pot a few times in college and never became an addict means people will wonder if perhaps you still get high, and even ask whether or not you ever sold drugs.

White privilege is being able to sing a song about bombing Iran and still be viewed as a sober and rational statesman, with the maturityto be president, while being black and suggesting that the U.S. shouldspeak with other nations, even when we have disagreements with them,makes you "dangerously naive and immature."

White privilege is being able to say that you hate "gooks" and "will
always hate them," and yet, you aren't a racist because, ya know, you were a POW so you're entitled to your hatred, while being black and insisting that black anger about racism is understandable, given the history of your country, makes you a dangerous bigot.

White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism and an absent father is apparently amongthe "lesser adversities" faced by other politicians, as Sarah Palin explained in her convention speech.

And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W.Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing,people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. isincreasingly isolated from world opinion, just because a lot of white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same,which is very concrete and certain.

White privilege is, in short, the problem.

So a lot's been going on.

2008-09-21T20:40:00.007-04:00

I finally got around to having my Fall Clean Up Day, which includes my annual hosta split. We acquired a new variety from (who else) Grobles, which is now centerpieced in the back flower bed. I split about 20 plants, gave some offspring to Woodworths and Knights, and helped Bill finish the job Sunday. I planted some mums for the first time, so we'll see how they fare. I am not planning on planting any bulbs this year...I like tulips, but I'm planning on trying out dahlia next year, and I think I can only stick to one flower attempt a season (aside from the ubiquitous impatiens, which are still going strong this late in September).

We've got the Sisterhood of the Sparkly Shoes happening over here. Ellie has had sparkle shoes the last two Christmases, and now the twins' feet fit into her old kicks. Well, since all of my children already know how to accessorize, we spend many a morning in playclothes and "sparklies." We don't take them outside, and actually I've moved them to the dress-up bins lest Helen particularly get the idea that they are suitable for everyday wear. I'm sure I have taken the twins to the store in them, but Ellie is just getting into her new pink ones. In her photo, she was pretending to be Maria from The Sound of Music with her banjo and her shoes. She was rocking the Do Re Mi.

Book club started up again, I've got some work due for my class this week, we're going to Cedar Point Saturday night, and October is right around the corner. The year is flying by.

Blackout v. 2.0, or, How to have fun in the dark

2008-09-16T20:20:00.002-04:00

1. Pretend for the kids' sake that this is all perfectly normal and yes, Mommy loves using open flame candles in her children's immediate presence and my, aren't we having fun?
2. Cook all the stuff in the fridge that will go funny if you don't and have a smorgasbord. Having friends over for this is even better.
3. Clean up what you can, but remember, no one can see the dirt anyway.
4. Count how many clean pairs of pants the kids have handy and wonder what you can get them to wear twice.
5. Go to bed early, early and not feel guilty.
6. Don't bother calling CEI. They don't want to talk to you.
7. Keep the kids outside as much as possible. The fresh air will wear them out. Put them to bed early too. Remember, three year olds can't tell time.
8. Thank God this isn't happening in January.

Well.

2008-09-01T16:46:00.000-04:00

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26496189/

Because THIS is going to end so well.

Sarah Palin, or, WTF?

2008-08-30T08:27:00.002-04:00

Here's my two cents on Sarah Palin:

The Republicans are mistaken if they believe that 18 million Democrats are going to jump parties to vote for a major ticket with a woman on it, merely because there is a woman on it.

Democrats who supported Hillary Clinton, really, really loved Hillary Clinton. It is more about her cult of personality at this point.

Governor Palin might be a rogue wheel in Alaska, and her popularity might be 80%, but they have like what, 4 people living there? She is going to find that the big party machine's leash is very short and very tight, and John McCain is not going to tolerate being upstaged. Neither is Mrs. McCain.

Joe Biden will crush her in debate. Having Russia live next door to you is not enough to call yourself an expert on foreign policy. That's like saying me living next door to Roland makes me a radiologist.

At least Olbermann will be hilarious for the next 66 nights.

I love my life.

2008-08-28T14:04:00.002-04:00

1. I have a good husband.
2. I have a good mother.
3. I have three good children.
4. I have good friends, and they know who they are.
5. My brain works.
6. I sleep well at night.
7. Chocolate is proof that there is a benevolent God.

Toys, or, My New Theory (also will post on 9.39)

2008-08-22T21:15:00.002-04:00

My theory about toys is this: it's not about what the toy can do, it's what the child can do with the toy. This is why I am way, way over toys that blink, sing, shake, sparkle, and generally act like a mental anesthesizer for the girls. I realize that a lot of research goes into toy manufacturing and marketing. However, after working with Ellie in play therapy for three months, plus everything else I've learned about early childhood in graduate work, I am convinced unless toys encourage children to ask the following questions, they need to be thrown out.
--what does it do?
--what CAN it do?
--what can I do with it? (how can I, within my power and knowledge right not, act upon this thing at this moment)
--what else can it be used for?
--if I do this to it, what happens?
--can I mimic something I already know with it? (I have found this to be true with anything that vaguely resembles a phone...if it looks like it could have a receiver and a mouthpiece, Helen is talking into it).

Right now I am into wooden toys, not for their greenness or hoity-toity "it fits into my design asthetic" ness, but because they are very "blank" for Ellie. They require her to explore and act upon them in ways a lot of toys do not. I am interested in Plan Toys especially, and am going to browse their website soon.

Bahamas, or, What do you read on vacation?

2008-08-19T20:55:00.009-04:00

I read Edith Wharton, of all things, and just thought she was as good as I ever did. This volume passed the time on Coco Cay, which is Royal Caribbean's island and really a wonderful respite.

Our tablemates were an interesting group. Tammy (next to me) is an emergency room physician in Atlanta. Her husband Robert works at a college (I think Morehouse). Sandy works at a large law firm in Peachtree Center. Her husband Dick...does something. I never figured out what.
We went to the Kennedy Space Center. http://www.nasa.gov/centers/kennedy/home/index.html The Astronaut's Memorial is incredible. It's a launch pad with a black granite face (to represent space). Everyone who has been lost has his or her name engraved, and at night it's illuminated. Thank you for your sacrifice.

This is Launch Pad 39B. The Challenger launched from this pad on January 28, 1986.

This is the face of the Visitor Center, which faces the "Rocket Garden." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocket_Garden

This was a dessert demonstration I observed. They designed fruit as well as vegetables. Afterwards we got samples. I snagged some chocolate covered strawberries.

Some clown wanted to be a smarty pants and left this in the window of their cabin, which looked onto the Promenade Deck (Deck 7). Wharton, yes. Melville, never.

My palm tree on Nassau.

Sunrise in the Bahamas, August 17, 2008.

Coco Cay, Bahamas. My view for a day.

If you can wiggle it, go, go, go on a cruise. Is it cheesy? Sort of. Will you eat too much? Oh, yes. Way. But your whole perspective will be altered, in a positive, happy place way.

It was a big week, or, unscheduled time is fun!

2008-08-09T19:35:00.011-04:00

1. We tried, for the first time, Cumberland Pool's kiddie pool and it was a hit. I had heard it was pretty crowded, and I was unsure about how Ellie would go for it, but they all loved it. We went with the Knight girls, which made it great, because Cheryl is as good if not better than herding children as I am, and anything Kelsey would do, the twins wanted to try. I'm thinking this will happen again this week.

2. We joined the Cleveland Botanical Gardens (http://www.cbgarden.org/) and took the girls to splish splash in the children's garden. A huge hit. I am looking foward to the winter activities, and any Christmas displays they have.

3. SSS and I took the kids to the zoo. It was a nice day, not too hot. There was a near-catastrophe of an overwhelmed-diaper sort, but we survived and the children had fun. Helen and Ellie rocked out at the giraffe exhibit and Emma clung to her binky, of course. There were lots of people there who did their usual stare thing, especially because we had the triple with us. That thing gets me more attention than I ever imagined.

3. It was my birthday week. We went to Lopez. Do I look 37? What does that even mean anymore? It's funny to think that 20 years ago I started my senior year of high school. Well, thank God that's over with. We also went to the orchestra with Grobles, which was great as always, as was my baked brie, which I think Pat would kill for.

Win, Place or Show? or, If it's the first weekend in August, we're in Twinsburg!

2008-08-02T16:49:00.003-04:00

We attended Twins Days at Twinsburg today and the girls came in second place in their contest, Least Alike Females Age 1-3. Last year they won their event, but the 12mos & under crowd is mixed gender. Now the kids are split and there were 17 nonidentical girl sets in the group. The girls who won are biracial and each is developing on her own track. Helen and Emma were nonplussed, however. Anything that allows them to adorn themselves with "dress up" is fine by them.

The post-awards ceremony meal consisted of Ritz crackers, blackberries, chicken and banana raisin bread with milk. Snack of champions.

Did you know about this?

2008-07-28T21:14:00.003-04:00

http://www.methodhome.com/Product.aspx?id=005620

http://www.methodhome.com/Product.aspx?id=005606

So here's the deal with my floors. They are hardwood. Unlike SSS's, they are not freshly refinished. Oh no. The kitchen looks like it has been through a war. And the kids are always dropping food on the floor, and no, we don't have a dog to clean up after them (S. Baskind's suggestion). So I've been using a Swiffer WetJet and not loving it. I always felt the floor was still dirty and it had a weird residue on it. So on a whim, I picked up an omop and almond cleaner from Method and thought, what the hell. It can't be worse.

IT IS SO MUCH BETTER.

I mean, the house smells awesome. And the floor has a gleam to it that I don't ever remember seeing. OK, OK, it has that when the cleaning lady has been here. But that's what, every 3 months? And I wash the floor four times a week. That's a lot of washings to be disappointed.

I'm not mad at the WetJet. I'll still use it for the bathroom. But oh, the omop is divine.

We Did It! Or, Road Trip

2008-07-20T20:10:00.003-04:00

We finally got the courage to take our kids out of town for a weekend to Todd and Sue-Yun Flyr's place in Liberty Township (near Cincinnati). This was a monumentally huge undertaking for us, since traveling with little kids is hard enough, but these little ones are still all in diapers, very much scheduled, and who knew if they would adapt to someone else's house, without their little beds, their kitty and their stuff? They did great. We got another Latt kids' table at the West Chester IKEA for the girls to use and did our thing like every other day. The girls loved the change and seemed to really enjoy the attention of other adults. They slept normally, napped normally, ate normally. We took them to a different playround, a toddler sprinkle pool, and the Cincinnati Zoo. After bedtime Saturday, we had the opportunity to enjoy Sue-Yun's incredible Korean barbecue on smuggled china and sit like grownups under the stars, smelling the citronella and the kimchi. But the stars looked just that much different from 5 hours south, and I was good with that.

Why was the weekend successful? Several reasons. We kept the girls' routine identical to home. Same bath/bed routine, same naps. We didn't set them up to fail by forcing them to radically alter their schedules to accomodate our desire to run around, or shop, or whatever. We may have had a little less time for IKEA, or didn't go out to eat, for example, but the kids were happy and we had no big behavior problems. Another reason the weekend was successful was Todd and Sue-Yun's understanding that our schedule didn't have to jive perfectly with theirs and that was just fine. They slept later. Fine. They stayed later at the pool and at the Zoo. Great. We had the freedom at their house to make decisions for our family that would work and Todd and Sue-Yun didn't take it personally that we couldn't do everything together, or that we had to do it differently. I would be less afraid to take the girls places if I knew other people or situations would be so flexible. I suspect that Mr. and Dr. Lowe would be accomodating, since her schedule has been insane as long as I've known her. But other people we know are simply not as understanding. Too bad. We had an awesome time with the Flyrs and can't wait to go back.

Rub a dub dub, three Ganns in a tub, or, Garage Sale

2008-07-16T22:01:00.004-04:00

I had a garage sale on July 12 that yielded me $120 and a cleaner conscience because my junk is now safely esconced in someone else's house. The best part of set-up was the girls finding our old kitchen sink and playing "bathtub" with in. They seemed genuinely surprised that they didn't all fit. Helen kept pulling out the spray nozzle to "wash" herself. Clever, yes.

Emma loved the prefab garage sale stickers and ended up being on sale for about $87 and change. After the poop explosion last week, I might have taken $75.

Oh, No, She Didn't, or, RED ALERT!

2008-07-06T22:35:00.002-04:00

So often I think of the story my neighbor Martina once told me about how she took her diaper off in her bed and smeared the contents on the wall, and the look of delight on her mother Hilda’s face when she found out what had happened. And I always laughed to myself, because it had never happened to me.

Until today.

The twins were in their room for nap. Bill and Ellie were working on a puzzle in our room. I was doing an ANOVA problem set for my statistics class. I heard the twins kind of wake up and get animated. I thought, I’ll let them go for a few minutes before I go get them.

A few minutes later the twins are really chatty, so I open the door and they sort of freeze.

The smell. Was. Unbelieveable.

I said to Helen, “Did you make a poopie?” And Pudge looked me square in the eye and said, “No. It was Emma.”

I took one look at Ittle and blanched. Emma had smeared poop everywhere. On her. On her bed. On her bedclothes. I was appalled. I almost couldn’t move. She saw the look on my face. I half whispered, half hissed, “Emma Ruth, what did you do?”

She said, “Oh Mommy, I love you.”

I will always have empathy for Hilda. Always.

Whew! or, THAT was fun

2008-06-29T20:13:00.003-04:00

1. Katie Groble's wedding. Ceremony at 3:00, rain at 3:01. However, as I reminded her, every wedding has a story. Mine? Dirty dress. Hers? Rain. It was all fine. The food was good, the wine was flowing, and her officiant, Ginny, http://www.yourweddingtoday.com/was a hoot. I think I will recommend home weddings to people more often. It could not have been more intimate or more meaningful.

2. Helen was the first of my children to do something on the potty besides sit and read (definitely their father's children, but I'm looking for a little more productivity here). Her reward? A potty candy, a.k.a. a Hershey's Kiss. Betsy witnessed the whole thing. I was boozing it up at the aforementioned nuptuals, but since Betsy's family, I'm okay with her seeing it and not me. Can I get Helen to repeat her feat? Who knows? I'm hoping the bribery will work.

3. Cleveland Botanical Gardens with the Smiths. Who knew it was so fabulous? (OK, the Grobles did, but their kids are out of the house and they can actually do things). We went on a Wednesday (they're open late) and then to an amazing dinner at Sergio's. A double date! In the middle of the week!

4. It's garage sale season and am I ever ready. I'm having one the 12th and I cannot wait to get rid of some of this stuff. Where has it all come from? Why is it living in my house? I don't know, but I'm using the money for Ellie's school clothes. School clothes. Sniff.

I burst out in tears.

2008-06-14T19:28:00.001-04:00

Too sad for words, really.

A Big Week.

2008-06-10T21:17:00.009-04:00

The most fashionable 73 year old in the house.

Thirty four years later.

Could not get prettier.

A dance machine. Crazy legs. Call her what you will, this kid can move.

Our little giver.

A yellow dress. Who knew.

and finally,

well played, Lisa.

Hosta, Hosta, Everywhere, or, Thanks, Grobles

2008-06-03T20:17:00.002-04:00

Jim and Pat Groble taught me how to split hosta and I am forever grateful. Look at how many plants I got just from splitting what I already had. Hosta is a love affair of sorts...once you have them, and they thrive, you want more, and different varieties, and you want them to fill in all the naked spots and dead spots and "why won't damn petunias grow there" spots, and just lush up the yard in ways that make even REAL gardeners jealous. I already know which ones are getting split this fall, and where their progeny are going to go. I even emailed Martina and asked her if she wants me to split hers. It's therapeutic, and so cost effective...I don't even want to know what some of my plants would cost. If you have a bald spot in your yard, have I got a plant for you.

4:10 comes early, or, statistics

2008-05-31T05:56:00.002-04:00

I have an advanced statistics class in my M.Ed. program during summer session. I laugh when I say this because I've never taken "basic" statistics. I've never taken a class like this anytime, anywhere. Oh, I rocked it in FIT (Federal Income Tax) in law school, and I was the queen of Real Property too, so I've taken some pretty esoteric and challenging coursework. But statistics? What? Me? But sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. The guy who sits behind me does not have Zen about this. He keeps mumbling, "I don't have time to study for this. I need to talk problems out. This symbology doesn't mean anything to me." Well, Mr. Middle School Adminstrator, I have news. 1. No one has time to study for this. That's why I got up at 4:10 on a Saturday morning to work on my problem set. 2. Everyone needs to talk problems out but class is not time to do it. Two words: study group. 3. You need to find a way to move past sigma and mu and just roll with the big picture. Statistics have meaning. And in a small way, beauty. As long as you don't fight it, it can be a very profound experience.

In Honor of Memorial Day

2008-05-26T20:05:00.001-04:00

To all our veterans--

this sweet little pudge wants to thank you!

Crap, Crap, What is this Crap? Or, Nuts

2008-05-17T20:23:00.002-04:00

I ordered some storage baskets (is there any other kind) from Pottery Barn Kids and here's what I had to contend with when I opened the box. Let me just say that I loathe packing peanuts. I don't despise Fisher-Price's so much, because they are made of spun corn starch and melt away in the sink when you run warm water on them (I kid you not). Bonus: children don't die if they eat them, they just have popcorn breath for a few hours. But these were bona fide styrofoam, and I just take umbrage at that. They are staticy, they are a disaster to try and clean up, The People's Republic of Cleveland Heights doesn't recycle them, and Helen would give her eyetooth to eat one. You see my dilemma (and Pudge's left arm trying to get at them).

I called PBK and essentially said, Chuck Williams has enough resources that he doesn't need to use these. He can get the corn starch kind. The rep responded, well, hardware stores take these back, and so will UPS. As if that was an answer.

I am not schlepping to Dunn Hardware with this stuff! I can't take three kids into a UPS store! There is no excuse for not using the meltable kind. Their crush resistance is the same and, oh by the way, THEY MELT.

Demand more from your vendors. Call and complain about packing peanuts. There is an alternative. They should use it.

Oh, Thank God.

2008-05-14T22:32:00.002-04:00

http://www.royalcaribbean.com/gohome.do

I don't know what y'all will be doing the weekend of August 15, but I'll be drinking a Mai Tai and getting friendly with some blue parrotfish in the Bahamas. Will send postcards.

Mother's Day Musings, or, An Ordinary Day

2008-05-11T15:27:00.003-04:00

I still washed clothes, made and cleaned up meals, organized snacks, and scrubbed the bathroom sink today. Do other women do this too? Take the one day that is culturally designated towards my happiness and tranquility and use it for activities like laying down a rug or crawling around on all fours looking for a binky?

In other news, we have a rug in the family room, Pottery Barn Kids SWEARS our last two pieces of furniture will be here by the first week in June, Bill is making progress on the trim in there, and we apparently live with two supermodels. Who knew.

Well, That's Over With, or, Break!

2008-05-06T20:27:00.002-04:00

My spring course is finally finished, so now I have a couple of weeks before summer session starts to organize my office, catch up projects that I have been neglecting, and make my lists.

1. Girls' baby books.
2. Ellie's visual calendar--I just need to get it to office max for lamination.
3. Purchases--baskets from PBK for the girls' toys (the hutches will be here before long, I hope), summer pajamas for everybody, I think the twins need nice sandals (not their LL Bean "velcros" which are just getting wrecked, which is fine with me), dress for Lisa's wedding.
4. Vacation--God willing we are going to the Bahamas in August on a 3 day cruise. I_cannot_wait.
5. Plan playground exursions with Mrs. (Dr.) Koops and Mrs. Smith.
6. Wave goodbye to Mrs. Hicks, which will break my heart.
7. Are we painting the house this year or not? We need to decide.
8. Plan my impatien color theme for this year. I am thinking of going with all red and white, and the double-flower African variety if I can find it.
9. Make nicey with new neighbors across the street.
10. Plan Ellie's birthday party.

Too much? Who knows?

Peas in a Pod, or, Two Little Old Women

2008-05-04T20:29:00.003-04:00

Helen and Emma are so totally different and so totally in sync. Look at them. Pudge is bigger, gentler, an easier spirit, so pretty. Emma is compact, assertive, a squealer, the boss. They are so unique, and yet so completely the same. They have always had each other. They knew each other before I knew them. While Ellie's birth was my most perfect moment, finding out about the twins was my most breathtaking. They never fail to absolutely stun me, every single day.

Elmo Make Music? or, Pots

2008-04-27T08:11:00.000-04:00

Our very own band. Who knew?

One Day's Worth, or, People Think I'm Joking

2008-04-21T22:56:00.002-04:00

This is one days' worth of wash. It is a mountain, not unlike the mashed potatoes mountain in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Strangely, laundry is not a job I loathe. Taking out the trash? Oh, yes. Loathsome. But laundry, even in this unmanageable state, is still somewhat tolerable. It's sort of like the cycle of sin and redemption...it's gets dirty, and then, poof, it's clean again. In this odd way, then, laundry is even hopeful.

It's Not a Hat, or, There She Goes Again

2008-04-20T22:56:00.002-04:00

Helen is really my rock solid child. I can always count on her to be cheerful, witty, up for anything, eager to please, and easy to comfort. She cries big loud tears for about half a second and then moves on. She was born with the ability to shake it off in ways I still can't fathom at my age. She is the accessory queen in the house and will do anything to find herself a new chapeau. This basket is an almost-daily favorite to try on. Helen could not be easier to completely, utterly adore.

PARK! PARK! Or, Thank God For Spring

2008-04-14T20:51:00.002-04:00

Turtle Park is the greatest thing for kids in the Heights in good weather. The equipment is pint-sized, the facilities are made from a bunch of recycled stuff, and at 9 am on a Thursday, there's hardly anyone there. The kids had the run of the joint. I broke all my own rules--the girls just bugged me to go to the park and I said, sure. I had grocery shopping to do, I had laundry to wash. But seeing how much they loved being outside was worth running out of butter.

It's Almost Done, or, A Big Empty Room

2008-04-06T20:42:00.002-04:00

In roughly a month, Bill got the entire family room refurbished. Lighting, painting, the works. Of course, we're waiting for the furniture, and new window and door, but that's beyond our control. What we have now is a big room with nothing in it. The girls love it--they think it's their own private disco. I love room and can't wait for it to be "finished," whatever that means in this house. It's the color of a Creamsicle, and I couldn't be happier.

POTTIES, or, you bet it's a special delivery

2008-04-02T23:28:00.004-04:00

Three white potties showed up today.

Nothing else did, but hey, the week's still young.

Believe me, there won't be photos. This is as racy as we get around here.

CAKE! Or, the Calm Before the Storm

2008-03-24T20:14:00.002-04:00

We worked all day on Easter (counterintuitive, I know) but then went for cake at the Smiths'. I did make the Peeps cake, which some creative changes. Walgreen's only had yellow SUGAR FREE Peeps, which is just...wrong. So I used purple Peeps and pastel M & M's and made a spring flower cake. It was just as good and who cared anyway?

The kids just demolished their pieces. Emma shoved her Peep into her mouth while simultaneously reaching (and appropriating ) Helen's. She would have gotten Ellie's too if her arm would have been long enough.

There was chocolate everywhere and no amount of paper towels could control it. The kids' table was just wrecked. Sorry, Smiths. But man, that was good cake.

A Productive Day, or, When The Hell Can I Get These Kids Outside?

2008-03-22T21:20:00.002-04:00

Snow, snow, snow. In the mornings now, when I go get the girls, I raise up the blind on the big window that faces our backyard and in unison the three of them yell, "SNOW!" Sad. They don't even know how long this winter has seemed. The big one played outside today while Lovey Love shoveled, but it was still too cold for the wee ones to venture out. Oh, I long for the days when we can all just tumble out in shorts snd cute tops and our ubiquitous LL Bean sandals http://www.llbean.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/CategoryDisplay?page=cool-wave-sandals&categoryId=53892&storeId=1&catalogId=1&langId=-1&parentCategory=503691&cat4=503463&shop_method=pp&feat=503691-tn and just go to town in the backyard. My tulips are poking their heads out, but who knows? They might think "the heck with this" and sleep the rest of the year.

On the upside, the family room remodel has been remarkably easy. Bill got the room sanded and all the outlets set. The can light holes are cut and the electricity is working. Painting begins tomorrow. Oh yes, on the holiest day of the Christian year? We stink this year as far as Jesus goes. I didn't even make the girls baskets. It just hasn't been on my radar. They won't be in therapy when they're 30. Not over this, anyway.

I cleaned out cookbooks today for garage sale, and ate Chinese food twice (check back with me in an hour, I'll be hungry again). I am making a delightful sunflower cake avec Peeps for dessert at the Smiths' tomorrow night. Got our first wedding invitation of the year--to the Grobles' daughter's bash in June. Things always seem to perk up when those start arriving. I wonder how many more to expect?

More updates, or, one crazy week

2008-03-16T13:21:00.002-04:00

Helen has been walking around with my Le Creuset spatula, which was a gift from Bill's Uncle Rob. She talks into it like a microphone, but all she says is, Malcolm, Malcolm. Did Malcolm make her something with this when I was away? Is she thinking about Malcolm X's last speech in Harlem? I'm not sure what is going on here. That's Hey-yen for you.

Here's that floor I mentioned. Hardwood, installed, thank you very much. Why should we fool around with Pergo or some such thing and try to do it ourselves? The guys were here from 9 to 3 on Thursday and it was done. I even took the kids to music class and left them work. I figured, I know who they are and who they work for. Plus, if they want to rip me off, my kids and my wallet are with me. Anything else is a pain to replace, but not irreplaceable.

The family room is coming along, and Bill plans on having it finished by April 7. Why that date? My mother gets back from CA, and he doesn't want to hear her talk about my house being a mess. That's motivation for you.

News Bits, or, The Week that Was

2008-03-13T19:56:00.002-04:00

1. The family room has a floor. Pics to come.
2. We dug out of snow on Sunday after a tough Saturday. The kids were a little nutsy and I counted the hours until bedtime (theirs AND mine).
3. We visited the Koops family http://musicplayzone.com/lisa.html and the Big One found Mr. Jed's guitar. 'Nuff said. She is a budding Maria from The Sound of Music.
4. I haven't done any work on my Master's class this week. I don't feel guilty, but I do have to work tomorrow. Typical Friday night....me, journal articles, and the APA manual.
5. Ellie slept in the Big Girl bed last night (and today for nap, and presumably now, although I suspect she's in the twins' crib, which must be rectified if that's the case). After a week, we'll move one of the twins into Ellie's old bed. Helen just needs more room, period. I ordered a toddler quilt that matches the other bedding and a bedrail for Ellie. Also the DVD of Once Upon A Potty. We're going on 2 months of sitting and no tinkle. Come on already.
6. I'm still at 0 points in my Dead Pool this year. http://home.columbus.rr.com/deadpool/ This is unusual for me. Last year I was the first one to score because I had Carlo Ponti.
7. I read The Grass is Singing for book club, and it reminded me of why I used to love the novel as an art form. If I get it back from Margaret www.margaretlannbell.com before the weekend ends, I'll read it again.

Lost, or, How Did He Get In There?

2008-03-07T13:44:00.003-05:00

I have had my Fisher Price Sesame Street playhouse for about 33 years.

That's right. I got it when I was about three. And I never lost a piece. Not the Ernie, not the garbage truck, not the little TV or Mr. Hooper's lunch counter. I played with it nonstop until I was really about 10. I loved it that much. And my mother saved it and all the pieces for me. Now I let the girls play with it, but not all the furniture. They don't need that stuff yet. (The lunch counter and the garbage truck, yes. But Bert and Ernie's beds? Their kitchen table? No. In a Ziploc bag, hidden). The other day Big Bird was in his nest, and then he wasn't. I was sick. I looked under every radiator. Every piece of furniture. I went through the bookbox. The accessories box. Every cushion on every upholstered piece of furniture (thank you, Laubacher's http://laubacherupholstery.com/). Nothing. I thought, that's it. 33 years was a good run, but it was bound to happen. I looked sadly at BB's empty nest and thought, sorry, buddy.

I knew Emma had BB last, and then the next time I saw her she was playing with my old oven mitt. I kept saying, Emma, where is Big Bird? Inexplicably, she'd walk in the kitchen, but wouldn't point to anything. This morning I made the girls oatmeal and put my hand in the oven mitt to pour from the kettle. Who ended up in my palm? You guessed it. Emma was sitting in her chair eating berries. I said, "Emma, did you put Big Bird in this mitt?" She looked me square in the face and said, "Yeah."

Go Emma. Go Big Bird. Reunited again.

Gutted, or, a Morning with Donuts and Coffee

2008-03-03T21:13:00.002-05:00

The family room has been a point of despair for about 5 years. We knew it needed redone, but other things--the garage, the kitchen, having 3 kids--always seemed to put it on the back burner. After I'd been cooped up in the room all last year with the kids and then looking at it again once the weather turned in the fall I just knew it had_to_go. We hadn't planned on starting the project this early, but a convergence of events made it a go. The furniture became available cheaper and faster than anticipated. The room needed a new heating source, which of course would be provided by Bill Hann at Verne & Ellsworth Hann (http://www.verneandellsworthhann.com/), and he was available this week. The flooring was available. The window and new patio door needed to be ordered toot sweet because of inevitable delay, so why not just trash the room now? Les Murphy, the Grobles, Thompson, and Bill went at it with vigor and had the room down by 2. Bill's on vacation this week, so hopefully a lot of progress will be made with the wiring, light installation, and drywall prep (proposed color: Luminary by Behr). I'm having a regular week with the kids, who are a little weirded out that all their toys have been reassigned, the TV is in front of the fireplace, and their favorite room just isn't there right now. However, since they live in an 80 year old house, and their father is who he is, they need to just learn to roll with big projects. I'm looking at that 2d floor bathroom and making plans for it already.

My Girl Marion, or, Who Saw That One Coming?

2008-02-25T13:52:00.002-05:00

Everyone said Julie Christie was going to win Best Actress. I figured, sure. She's won before, she's in the twilight of her career, she is wholly authentic, and Oscar loves diversity in leading ladies (thank you, Jessica Tandy). I have learned never to bet on Supporting Actress--you just never know whose name is going to be called. But last night, when Marion Cotillard won for La Vie en Rose, I almost jumped out of the couch. I love me some Edith Piaf, but Marion took her to place even I didn't think the great Le Mome could have gone. She was sublime. Félicitation, ma fille chérie. Vous êtes vraiment le petit moineau.

Shoes! Shoes! Or, Kiss that $50 Goodbye

2008-02-20T23:44:00.003-05:00

Emma was in need of shoes with soles, so off to the big N. we went. She has these tiny feet, so narrow, but I found Stride Rite Mary Jane's with just a hit of metallic pizzazz. How much? $49.51 with tax. The thing is, I'm neither horrified nor surprised. I had the opposite problem as a child; my feet were a triple E width until I was about 10. There was one store on the West Side that sold shoes for kids with odd sizes, and my mother spent at least $50 a pair on shoes for me--and wer're talking 1979 here. Did it pay off? Well, my feet are perfectly formed and pain-free, despite their continuing state of pudge. I will gladly buy put garage sale playclothes on the kids, I will buy them $4 outfits at Target with glee, but I will not, will not, will not put cheap shoes on my girls. If there was ever a get what you pay for scenario, my children having healthy little piggies is it.

Recent News, or, Stuff I Always Mean To Mention, But So Often Forget

2008-02-11T13:40:00.000-05:00

1. Emma decided to talk on 2-2-08 and promptly announced six words to the world. Toes, Mama, Daddy, cup, shoe, milk. More have appeared every day since, which tells me they were always in there but she wasn't interested in having to do the work. I get where she's coming from. Talking is sometimes overrated.

2. The demolition for our family room is tentatively scheduled for March 29. Depending on if Bill gets a new job before then (very likely) that date may move up, since he'll burn all his vacation time first and then quit.

3. The new furniture for said room is here. http://www.potterybarnkids.com/room/rom/romply/romplycmw/index.cfm

4. My trip to Ikea with Betsy Sellers is next week and I cannot wait. http://www.ikea.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/IkeaNearYouView?storeId=12&catalogId=11001&langId=-1&StoreName=pittsburgh

I just want to get out of Cleveland and breathe some other state's air, even if it is Pittsburgh.

5. My 92-year old grandmother voted for Barack Obama in the California primary. http://www.barackobama.com/index.php She said that '08 is likely to be her last Presidential election, and she wants her vote to make a real difference in this country, because she's tired of the "birdbrains" running the show.

6. Helen knows all her letters by sight and can count 1-5. She's not yet 18 months old.

7. I finally won a game of International Rummy with the Grobles. It only took a wheel of baked brie, two pots of coffee, and some damn good chocolate cake, but I pulled it off. http://alpha.fdu.edu/~knapp/intrummy.html It was the same night Obama spanked Clinton in three states and the Virgin Islands. Coincidence? I don't think so.

8. My friend Sally Z. says her New Year's resolution was "follow through" and that after a month and a half of making it a consistent habit she thinks she's got it licked. After a month and a half, I still don't have a New Year's resolution. Lazy? Or realistic? I'm just not sure.

Crazy Hair, or, Helen's First Sally Experience

2008-02-03T09:28:00.000-05:00

Helen has been having herself some crazy hair. As Twin A, she seemed to do everything a little bigger, faster, and louder than Ittle, but Pudge's hair was really a point of departure for them. While Emma still has a natural Nascar mullet, Helen's hair would appear each morning in her eyes, sticking straight up, around her ears, with a little curl dangling precariously down her back and into her shirt collar. What's a girl to do? So I schlepped her off to Sally (http://www.luciasthesalon.com/) for her first real haircut. I know other women who try the home kitchen cut that first time. Not me. I know my limitations and while I can clip a kid's nails while reading War and Peace and making a mean hollandaise, approaching one of my children with scissors is not something I feel the need to try. Helen was not an enthralled with the mirrors in the place as Ellie is, but she sure did like being the center of attention for once, and with just a little pinwheel in hand, was a super trooper the entire time. N.B.--bring your kid's own booster seat to the barber! Helen had no trouble sitting in her own seat, safely strapped in, happy as a clam.

Look at that punim. How can you not be totally in love with the Pudge?

Oh Kitty, or, The Boss of Me

2008-01-29T14:25:00.000-05:00

The cat is undeniably royalty in this house. Did her status suffer from the introduction of small people into our world? Not really. She still has her pick of where she sleeps, where she sits, who she favors, and what and when she wants to eat. If she wants to go out, I let her out. If she hides all day in my closet, okay. Emma loves her and the other two are merely cautious. No tail pulling, or chasing, or otherwise annoying The Saff, as the big one calls her. Kitty can be cranky, but she's still Queen of Her World.