Thankful tree, Christmas wish lists, Weird Panera encounter

Dusts off blog

Everyone had nine leaves on which to write the things for which they are thankful for 2017’s Thankful Tree. Here they are, listed in no particular order.

Me:

1. Warm House
2. Viber
3. The internet
4. Doughnuts
5. Interesting job
6. Tea at night
7. Running
8. St. Mike’s
9. Family

Andrew:

1. Electricity
2. Antibiotics
3. Soft pillows
4. Maureen
5. Family
6. Mold
7. Creativity
8. Thermos

Jack:

1. Intelligence
2. Food
3. Speech
4. Holidays
5. Minecraft
6. Civilization
7. Internet
8. Clothing
9. Shelter

Nora:

1. Friends
2. Wolfy (stuffed husky)
3. Doughnuts
4. Thanksgiving
5. Teddy
6. Day/night
7. School
8. Money
9. People that draw women for good jobs (This one is inspired by a cartoon of career choices and some of the people with careers were women.) (We talk about gender and racial equality a lot.)

Ann Marie

1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. Teddy
4. Jack
5. Nora
6. Family
7. My friends
8. YouTube

Teddy (filled in by me)

1. Mama
2. Daddy
3. Jack
4. Nora
5. Ann Marie
6. Nursing
7. Soft, soft blankets
8. Milk 
9. Milk and binks and blankets

It is also important that I capture the kids’ Christmas wish lists this year.

Jack:

• Super Smash Brothers for the Wii U
• 100 billion dollars (he is willing to accept 100 million dollars)

Nora:

• A Hatchimal
• LOL dolls
• Sisters 8 series

Ann Marie:

• A stuffed puppy
• A hamster. Not a REAL one, a STUFFED one.
• One hundred dollars

Finally, I took the three oldest kids Christmas shopping today. We stopped for lunch at Panera. After placing our order, Ann Marie had a minor meltdown about Nora’s moving her hat and coat to a different seat. A woman came up and said, “Excuse me?” Earlier, Ann Marie had bonked her mouth on the shopping cart and I only found out because a woman saw it and explained to me what happened, so I was primed to think that Ann Marie had again hurt herself and I had missed it. I paused in my tending to the weeping Ann Maire to see what the woman wanted. This is what she said.

“I noticed your daughter is in distress, and I was wondering if you’d like me to teach her some meditation techniques?”

I am not making that up even a little bit.

The Doll

Last May, we went to Disney World. While we were there, we let each kid pick a souvenir. Jack built a light saber, Nora found a handmade necklace, and Ann Marie chose one of those two-sided dolls that was Rapunzel on one side and Tiana on the other. You know the kind; one head is hidden under the skirt of the other head, and you flip it upside down and reverse the skirt to switch characters.

We bought the Rapunzel/Tiana doll, henceforth known as “Tinunzel,” on our first day in the Magic Kingdom. And while the double princess dolls could be found in tons of shops all over the park, the Tinunzel doll was only in the shop right by the park entrance on Main Street. This became an issue later, when Ann Marie woke up that night and barfed on it. She was fine; it was “too much theme park fun barf” not “gravely ill barf.”

Fortunately, we were planning a second day in the Magic Kingdom, and my friend Jen is a Disney World expert and had told me that you can exchange anything at Disney World for any reason. She lives about twenty minutes from the park and has exchanged many items, even ones obviously broken by her children. She says it’s included in the outrageously high prices. You’re paying for 100% satisfaction!

So when we went back to the Magic Kingdom for our second visit a few days later, I wrapped Tinunzel up in a plastic bag and stashed her (them?) in the bottom of the stroller. We were borrowing Jen’s BOB Revolution stroller, which she had kindly stocked with a cooler and 5 disposable rain ponchos. We were very glad of the ponchos on our first Magic Kingdom day when it rained that afternoon.

When we got to the park, we went to the shop right away and I told the cast member working the register that my daughter had thrown up on the doll that we just bought, and could we please exchange it for an identical doll? The cast member said we’d need a receipt.

What?

Let’s break that down: Either I can exchange a doll that was damaged after purchase or I can’t. The receipt merely serves to prove that I bought the doll at Disney World. Given that I was exchanging the doll for an identical doll, what is the point of proving I bought it there? If I were asking for credit, I’d understand. Or if she had said she can’t exchange it because the damage occurred after purchase, I’d also understand. But no exchange without a receipt? What?

I of course did not have the receipt, so I took Tinunzel and left, figuring I’d try it in one of the other 10,000 shops in the park. That is how I know that Tinunzel is only available in that one shop. I checked.

Happily for me, my friend and Disney expert Jen and her kids came to join us at the park later that day. Jen was stunned that the cast member wouldn’t exchange the doll, and she agreed to help me try again later. So on the way out, Jen and her kids headed to the shop with me and Ann Marie, who was very very cranky. We parked the strollers outside, and I grabbed the plastic-wrapped, barfed-upon doll and went in.

“Hi, my friend’s daughter was sick and threw up on this doll. A cast member outside said you’d be able to help us out in here?” said Jen to the guy working the register. I held up the plastic-wrapped doll and the new doll with a hopeful expression on my face.

“You just want to exchange it for the same doll?” said the cast member.

“Right,” I said.

“Heugghhaahhh!” said Ann Marie, as she chose that exact moment to barf on the floor, demonstrating exquisite timing.

So then there was a flurry of activity as Jen hustled her vomit-suggestible kids away, the cast member called maintenance, and I guarded the soiled area to keep customers from accidentally walking through it. While we waited for maintenance, I handed the wrapped doll to the cast member and he gave me a new doll to replace it. Eventually they brought a “wet floor” thingy and we took the new doll and left.

That night, Andrew unpacked the stroller, and he found something interesting. He found the plastic-wrapped, barfed-upon Tinunzel doll still in the stroller basket.

You see, in the flurry and rush of activity, combined with the fresh barf, I had accidentally exchanged the bundle of our used rain ponchos for a brand-new Tinunzel doll. Basically, we ran a complicated con job to score a free princess doll. And we couldn’t have done it without Ann Marie.

She’s method.

Ann Marie Sayings

Walking past the neighbor's house, Nora asked, "How old is Mrs. Q.?" 

"93," I said. 

"Wow," said Nora. "She's going to die soon."

"Um," I said.

"Should we tell her?" said Ann Marie.

***

Ann Marie, in a still-wet nighttime diaper and PJs, peeked into the kitchen to see if we were there. We were. Then she ran through the kitchen REALLY FAST so that we wouldn't see she hadn't changed yet. We saw.

***

Upon learning that I had to go buy milk, Ann Marie said, "Oh, are you going to get it at the area?" I was flummoxed for a while. "The area?" I said. 

"Yes! The area!"

The area... The area... "Oh! The dairy!" I said.

***

Kid-approved black bean soup

I have three kids. One of them eats lots of things. One of them eats some things. And one of them would waste away without cheese and bread in all their many forms. But 2/3 of the children requested leftover black bean soup for lunch, and the other one claimed to like the tortilla chips soaked in black bean soup last night. And although that did not translate into her actually eating any of them beyond the small taste that was so delicious, I'm counting it as a win.

It is also a win because it's super easy and fast to make. So here you go:

Dr. Maureen's Black Bean Soup

Active time: 20 or so minutes depending on how fast you can chop vegetables
Total time: 40-60 minutes
Serves 6

Notes: The "Basic" ingredients are what I think are minimally required for the soup. You can add whatever fresh vegetables you have on hand as you like. My variations are in the "Variations" section. Also, I am just guessing at the amounts of the non-canned ingredients. For what it's worth, I used cilantro and leftover crockpot-salsa-chicken for the first time last night and was met with rave reviews as its being the best version ever.

Ingredients

Basic:
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 can diced tomatoes
1 medium onion
2 medium carrots, diced or rounds or however you like them
2 medium stalks celery, diced
32-48 oz. chicken broth (or vegetable broth)
1-2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt, pepper, cumin, to taste
shredded cheese
tortilla chips

Variations:
Chopped fresh spinach
Diced fresh tomatoes
Fresh or frozen corn kernels
Cooked chicken if you have any on hand
1-2 Tbsp fresh cilantro

Instructions

1. Saute the diced onion in olive oil in a medium-large pot until soft, about 5 minutes. Add carrots and celery, cook until all veggies are soft, about 5-8 minutes more.
2. Add the rinsed beans, diced tomatoes, and any other vegetables you are using. Add the broth. You need at least 32 ounces, but you might want to add more if you have a lot of vegetables. Make sure the broth covers all the vegetables.
3. Add fresh cilantro, several shakes of cumin, some salt and pepper to taste. Reserve the cooked chicken.
4. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer about 20-30 minutes.
5. Blend with an immersion blender; if you don't have one transfer the soup to a blender in small batches and blend. 
6. Add cooked chicken pieces, simmer till heated through.
7. Serve with tortilla chips, passing shredded cheese as a topping.

Best book I've read this year

Nora wrote me a story. I present it here, with translation, but without comment.

To Mom: "The Angry Girl Wanted To Mash The Flower" By Nora

The girl saw a flower and did not know what to do.

But suddenly, she had an idea.

She was going to step on that flower.

And she stepped on that flower.

Insult to injury: A chance for recreational outrage

As we all know, sidewalk parking is my personal hill to die on. People in my city regularly park on the sidewalk. Sometimes they leave room for a single-width stroller, sometimes not even that. I started a one-woman crusade last year and ended up getting the police to start issuing tickets, so the problem has been greatly reduced. But I still have to call the cops sometimes. 

But there is this one house on my route to and from school. It's a multi-family, and one of the families has an absolutely terrifying dog. It's pitbull-esque, and it does not care for strangers walking on the sidewalk in front of its house. The yard is fenced in, but it's a chain-link fence that is right up against the sidewalk. When the dog is outside, it is never tied up and if it sees you walking by the house it runs up to the fence and stands on its hind legs - which brings its head higher than the fence, mind you - and tries to chew your face off. Or at least it SEEMS like it's trying to chew your face off. It appears that it wants nothing more than to chew your face off. It snarls, barks, growls, and scrabbles at the fence, trying to get out. 

I have a fear of dogs anyway, so I am unable to walk by this dog when it's clambering up the fence like that. I just cannot do it. At a minimum, I have to walk into the street so I can put some distance between me and the slavering jaws. When I'm with the kids, I usually cross the street - which means walking in front of the weirdo house with huge bushes that block the entire house from view and protrude into the sidewalk forcing me to duck as I walk by! Just as bad as sidewalk parking! -  but I hate that I am forced to do that. And I hate that stupid dog. I HATE that dog. 

Lest you get the wrong impression, I have not called the cops on these people. The dog is always contained in the yard. I understand rationally that the dog cannot get out, and that these people are not breaking any laws by having a mean dog. But the thing about an irrational fear is that it is irrational, so I can't just explain to myself that it's perfectly safe to walk by a a dog whose bared fangs are inches from my head. 

But I think these dog owners are terrible people. I think that if you are going to have a dog and not train that dog to allow people to pass by your property using the public sidewalk, then you should have the common courtesy to make sure the fence is at least set back from the sidewalk! Am I alone in this? Are there dog lovers or owners out there who have an opinion on this?

Also, one time I was walking the kids home from school and the dog surprised us as we got to the fence. I startled and ran with the stroller, but Nora startled and ran INTO THE STREET and FELL DOWN and the owner was outside and my, how he chuckled. Yes, all very hilarious. Especially when I tried to go get Nora, but we were on a hill, so the stroller started to roll and I had to leave Nora screaming in the street in order to stop Ann Marie from rolling away. 

So no, these people are not my favorites. 

But! Sidewalk parking! This is how they park:

There is room to get a single stroller through there, but the cars on the sidewalk force us right up against the fence where the dog leaps up and tries to kill us. 

I actually came across the dog owner outside with no dog on Wednesday took the opportunity to ask him if he could stop parking like that because his dog is terrifying and my children and I don't like having to walk right next to it. Unfortunately, that was not his car; it belongs to the guy who lives downstairs. He said he'd talk to him. It obviously went very well. 

So who wants to leave me a comment about how these people are terrible and their dog is terrible?

Seven in Seven 6: Not seven in a ROW...

Well I didn't make it, but that's because I was felled by a stomach bug, so I think allowances can be made. And this is going to be a quick takes kind of post.

1. Ann Marie says "aqua puss" for "octopus" and "polka nuts" for "polka dots." Two things that need documentation, I think we can all agree.

2. Andrew and I are going to get solar panels on our house, and we are so psyched. Our house has a huge long roof that faces south, and we've wanted to do this for years, but were always afraid it would cost too much up front. When I saw something in the paper talking about the city partnering with a green energy company to put in solar panels, I figured I'd at least call and find out a ballpark figure for it, and two weeks later we had signed papers. We are getting more than half off in discounts and tax incentives and the energy company has a sweet deal with a bank for a low-interest loan on the rest, so we should have this thing paying for itself pretty soon. And just THINK of the net gain in smug hippie points we get! A farm share, cloth diapers, a hybrid car, and now solar panels? We will soon be unbearable to be around.*

3. On the down side, the solar guy put 12:00 into his calendar instead of 9:00 for the follow-up visit we just had, and then the visit took 5 hours instead of the 90 minutes or so we had expected. So that kind of borked the whole day. And then I was felled that night, as aforementioned, with Jack close behind me. Jack got so sick I actually called the doctor to find out at what point I had to take him to the ER for fluids, so the weekend was not so great overall. (Jack is totally fine and did not need to go to the ER.)

4. Because Ann Marie plays me like a fiddle, it takes me five times longer to put her to bed than it takes anyone else. I usually find myself holding her hand until she falls asleep, in fact. Does anyone else hold her hand until she falls asleep? No. No, they do not. Just me, the sucker. And now Nora is begging me to hold HER hand until she falls asleep and this madness must end except that I am too unwilling to go through the torture of the Change Of How Things Go. Plus, it's nice and quiet in here.

5. I am writing this on my new iPad, which I got from my ever-generous mother-in-law for my birthday, although in this particular instance she had a hidden agenda in that she wants to face-time with the kids. But I haven't let them touch it yet as it has no protective cover, and I know that once they get it I'm never going to see it again. But the silicone case is en route, MIL, so soon. Tomorrow it should be here.

6. With the gift of the iPad, Andrew and I now have 3 laptops, 3 tablets, 2 smartphones, a Samsung Galaxy MP3 player, and an iPod touch. One of the laptops is my work laptop, but this is nuts. Comfortable and entertaining, but nuts! To quote Temerity Jane (do not know how to link from the iPad): "Complaints invalid."

*Our HE washing machine also generates its own electricity during the spin cycle.

Seven in Seven 5: Lent

Ash Wednesday is coming up fast, and I have to confess something. The internet has introduced me to a bunch of people who use each Lent to grow as Catholics, but I fear I am not one of those people. I try. I do, I try. But the truth is I hate Lent. I don’t LIKE to make sacrifices and think about my sins. And as for fasting… well let me say that Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are the only two days when I miss being pregnant, because pregnant women aren’t supposed to fast.  

A few years ago I tried to come up with something more creative to give up for Lent than the usual chocolate or cookies, something that would help me get closer to God. I’ve had years and years of practice in giving up sweets and I honestly don’t think I get that much out of it anymore. My first idea was to give up all fiction with the idea that I’d read spiritual books instead. And I did not read a scrap of fiction for those six weeks! However, I mostly used my fiction-reading time to watch more TV. Not exactly in the spirit of things. Last year I theoretically gave up checking Twitter in the evenings. I think I may have stuck to that, but I also may have been a bit fluid on my definition of “evening.”

But what can I do but continue to try? This year, I am going to do the fiction/spiritual reading thing again. I think the key to success on this front is to find spiritual books that aren’t too terribly dense, or I may find myself once again surfing the internet and watching TV instead of reading. I already bought The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning on the recommendation of Miriel and Susie, The Shadow of his Wings on the recommendation of Jennifer at Conversion Diary, and I plan to buy Jennifer’s own book as well. If you have anything to suggest, I would love to hear it. I have read appallingly few books of this type, so suggest anything, even if you think it’s something I must have read by now.

What are your Lenten plans? Do you give things up? Does doing so help you grow in your faith? 

Seven in Seven 4: Today

Lauren posted her day 4 post on Twitter. I read it as I held Nora’s hand while she went to sleep and was reminded that I am also participating in the “Seven post in seven days” (hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary), and I may have cursed internally a little bit. But blog posting is like exercise: I’m always glad I’ve done it even if I’d really rather be watching Veronica Mars while in the middle of it.

Today you get to hear about my day, because I don’t really know what else to talk about and when you give yourself arbitrary deadlines you are choosing quantity over quality. In contrast, Snoozical chose quality with her last post, and even if it did mean she quit “Seven in seven,” it was absolutely worth it and you should go read it.  

Meanwhile, my day started at 2am when Ann Marie woke up and threw up in her bed. Is there anything more pathetic than a barfing toddler? She had no idea what was happening of course and everything was just terrible. On the bright side, the mess was all contained in the crib so it was a relatively easy clean up. I should say it was relatively easy for Andrew to clean up because he was the one stuck with ferrying gross sheets and blankets upstairs to the wash while I cradled Ann Marie in the bathroom and tried to comfort her.

She and I stayed in the bathroom for a while and then she slept with me in my bed while I dozed fitfully, bolting upright every hour or so to hold her head over the bucket. Meanwhile, my sainted husband made trips back and forth to the bathroom to clean out the bucket and then slept in the chair in the girls’ room because Nora was freaking out.

All this meant that I had to call in sick to work today. Given that today was my day to work for an hourly rate, something I only do every other Thursday, this was irritating because it means I lose out on the pay for today. On the other hand, it was a blessing to have Andrew home so there were two of us to deal with the terribleness that is a sick toddler. And in fact, Andrew got up and started to get Jack ready for school while Ann Marie and I stayed in bed for an extra half hour. Then Andrew took Nora – whom we kept home from school because she was up for about two hours due to all the commotion – and ran a bunch of errands while I held Ann Marie on the couch and we both took a nap. So I’m pretty glad I stayed home.

In all, it was really not that bad of a day. Ann Marie threw up for the last time at 9:30 or so and was begging for cheese sticks by noon. (Almost as pathetic as an actively vomiting toddler is a recently-vomiting toddler who is now hungry and can’t understand why you won’t feed her.) The entire household was in bed by 9pm and it is now 9:23 and I’m the only one awake, so we’re OK. All that’s left now is the ticking time bomb feeling that one of us is about to be felled. We’ve laid towels out on the rugs by Nora’s bed and talked to her about aiming for the bowl, but who knows.

I thought I’d have something else to say here, but it looks like you’re stuck with this. But that’s what you get for choosing quantity over quality. You get this. 

Seven in Seven 3: The mystery blogger

When I said I’d post every day this week, I didn’t realize it meant EVERY day. So this is going to be a bit of a free writing exercise because I’m drawing a blank here.

My sister made her new year resolution to save money on groceries by making stuff from scratch and by wasting as little food as possible. These are both subjects I find very interesting, so my sister calls me frequently to discuss Magic Bread and food-saving practices like keeping all of your vegetable peelings and tops in a Ziploc bag in the freezer instead of throwing them out and then using them to make broth later. And then, if you’re me, freezing the broth in a new Ziploc bag and then putting THAT bag in the freezer in your basement for the rest of time.

Our bread discussions usually segue into other things, and the other day we got to talking about my internet friends. I think I told her about my plans to attend the Edel Gathering this summer with Maggie, Arwen, and Lauren, and she started asking me about one of my blog friends who I told her about years ago. I told her she should be reading this blog, but it turns out she already was reading it, or at least she was at the time. She had since stopped following very many blogs, but this one stuck in her memory except that she couldn’t remember the name. “The blogger was so great,” she told me. “It’s like… she was who I want to be when I grow up!” but the blogger’s name remained elusive. “It starts with an ‘S’,” she said.

“Swistle?” I offered. But that wasn’t it, and I was at a loss, because I couldn’t think of any other blogger that I’ve been reading for years whose name starts with an S.

“What I liked about this blogger was how she just does her own thing and doesn’t make a big deal about it,” my sister said. “She just seems to be saying, ‘This is how I do it, and you can do it this way too, if you want, but you can also do your own thing and that’s fine too,’ instead of making it her crusade to convert everyone to homemade organic bread or something. You’ve been reading her forever and you’ve met and you’re friends now. But what was her name? S-… S- something… it started with an ‘S’.”

“Uh… Maggie?” I offered, drawing a complete blank on all “S” bloggers.

“There’s a least an ‘S’ in it, Maureen,” said my sister, with great indignation. But I had nothing to offer her. We talked about blogs and the internet for a few more minutes and then, figuring I’d give it a shot, I said, “Is it Arwen?”

It was Arwen. Or “S’Arwen,” as we sometimes call her. 

Seven in Seven 2: Cheesecake

A couple of years ago I bought a Better Homes & Gardens special interest magazine about holiday baking, primarily because the cover claimed to have a spread on cheesecakes. $5.99 well spent, my friends. After trying out several recipes, I adapted one of their recipes and created this one, which I shall now share with you, you lucky people.

Dr. Maureen’s Chocolate Raspberry Kahlua Cheesecake
Adapted from Better Homes and Gardens Holiday Baking, 2004, Chocolate Irish-Cream Cheesecake

Active time: 45 min Baking time: 1 hr Total time: 7-24 hr Oven: 325F

Notes
The original recipe called for 24 oz of cream cheese, 8 oz of sour cream, 1 cup of sugar, 8 oz of chocolate, and 3 eggs, but I thought the cheesecake was too tall, so I reduced everything by 1/3. The original recipe also used ½ cup Irish cream instead of Kahlua, but ½ cup was just a bit too much.
To soften the cream cheese, I microwave it for about 30 seconds. In my experience it makes a smoother cheesecake. I also microwave the jelly just to warm it up enough to get it to the right viscosity for swirling; that is your preference.

Ingredients

Crust
1.5 cups crushed chocolate wafer cookies, about 18 cookies
6 Tbsp melted butter
1 tsp cinnamon

Filling
2 8oz packages of cream cheese, softened (see note)
6 oz sour cream
2/3 cup sugar
6 oz semisweet chocolate melted and cooled
2 eggs
1/3 c Kahlua
½ Tbsp whipping cream or milk
½ tsp vanilla
½ cup seedless raspberry jelly, warmed (see note)

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 325F.
2. Crust: Combine crushed cookies, butter, and cinnamon in a bowl. Toss to mix then press gently into a 9- or 10- inch springform pan. You can use a cup with a crisp edge to get the crust to press into the edges of the pan.
3. Filling: Combine the cream cheese, sour cream, sugar, and melted chocolate. Beat with an electric mixer on medium to high speed until smooth. Gently stir in eggs until just combined – overbeating here will introduce air which will lead to cracks in the finished cake. If you ever get a cheesecake that doesn’t crack, let me know. I never have. Stir in Kahlua, cream or milk, and vanilla.
4. Pour filling into pan. Swirl the raspberry jelly into the filling. Put the pan on a cookie sheet in case it leaks and bake for 50-60 minutes or until the center appears nearly set when gently shaken.
5. Cool in the pan for 15 minutes and then loosen the crust from the side of the pan. Cool 30 minutes more and remove the sides of the pan. Cool for one hour, then cover and chill for 6-24 hours.

Seven Posts in Seven Days 1: Ann Marie update

This is a post for me and for Ann Marie’s early intervention therapist, Miss Nancy. Ann Marie was enrolled in EI last January after I took her for her 12-month well visit in December and her doctor said, “What do you mean she can’t get herself into a seated position? And she has no words at all, you say? Hmmm.”

Honestly, I blame her motor skills delay on her parents’ forgetting how old she was. “She’s the BABY. Tiny babies cannot sit up! It’s perfectly normal! She’s only a few months old!” we thought, subconsciously. Also responsible: She is the THIRD baby. She does not get quite as much laser-focused attention as, I don’t know, her eldest brother did. Her brother and sister are sort of demanding, as it happens. This is real life. 

At any rate, she scored one point over the qualifying score for motor skills (she could not crawl or get into a seated position or roll over or pull to stand, but her fine motor skills brought her score up) and two points over qualifying for her communication skills. In other words, she did not qualify, but only by a hair. In such cases, children can be enrolled based on clinical recommendation, and that is what we did. Frankly, I was not concerned about her motor skills because she had improved substantially between her well visit and her EI qualifying interview, mostly because Andrew became aware that she was not, in fact, a four-month-old, and we made her try things. But I was a bit concerned about her learning to talk because she communicated non-verbally to great effect, so I was afraid that I would not know how to get her to use actual words.

  

Thus it was that Miss Nancy started coming to our house every Tuesday afternoon for an hour to play with Ann Marie. And Ann Marie was Miss Nancy’s favorite client, if you don’t mind my totally unbiased opinion. And, OK, I’m sure Miss Nancy worked with plenty of adorable kids, but seeing as how she worked primarily with children with severe developmental delays, I do think a pleasant hour playing with a cheerful baby who had a slight speech delay was a nice little break for her.

It probably helped that my other two children were always under some sort of magical spell when Miss Nancy came, and always acted like angel children from another dimension for that hour. Honest to goodness, Nora once spent the entire time playing with some dolls, singing a little song quietly to herself. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought it was staged. The storybook magic always ended when Miss Nancy left at 4:00 and the children immediately began begging for a show, but it was always nice – if surreal – while it lasted.

Once Ann Marie started walking, we noticed a problem with her feet. They curved in. The orthopedist diagnosed her with metatarsus adductus, which is Latin for “curved in feet,” and prescribed special shoes for the day and boots and a brace to sleep in. I was told to expect that she would need to wear the brace for three years, and we scheduled a follow-up visit for that November, six months away. Well, her feet were noticeably better within two weeks. I know it was two weeks, because we got the brace right away but had to go back for the special shoes, and they were better by then. And by the time Ann Marie had her six-month evaluation for EI, her feet looked totally normal. The physical therapist who had come for a sort of foot consult before I took her to the orthopedist came back for the six-month eval, and she was astonished at the improvement.

But what is the six-month evaluation? In Massachusetts, if you qualify for EI, you get it for a year, with an evaluation midway through to check on the progress. But if you qualify for EI based on clinical recommendation, the six-month eval is a qualifying evaluation, and Ann Marie did not qualify. Not even close. In January, her almost-qualifying scores were 76 and 78. (You need 75 to qualify.) In June, her scores were 105 and 97. So the EI worked, apparently.

You know what else worked? Her shoes. I took her back to the orthopedist in October instead of waiting until November because she had outgrown her special shoes, and the orthopedist declared her cured. Cured! She didn’t have to wear special shoes or a nighttime brace anymore! I’m still pretty amazed by that. Six months is a lot less than three years. So, Miss Nancy, she hasn’t had orthopedic shoes since October!

She also talks a blue streak now, Miss Nancy. I’d list her words, but her vocabulary is too vast. This morning Nora was making her way to the car taking her to school, and Ann Marie called out, “Carefully, Nora!” correct syntax and all. Then while we came upstairs she said, “Can I watcha show? How ‘bout... Mickey Mouse! How ‘bout... Dora! How ‘bout… Phinny Ferb?” (That last one is Phineas and Ferb, and the answer is always no.) Yesterday Andrew asked Nora to get him a napkin and Ann Marie came running. “I do it! I DO IT!” and did it. When she wanted to stir my coffee for me I sent her over to stir Andrew’s instead. Jack said that he didn’t think Andrew wanted her to, and she said “I GOING to!”  She can count to twenty sort of, and she can count to eleven pretty consistently. She can identify “G” and “O” and knows what sound “H” makes. For the counting and letters I concede all credit to her Leapfrog Leaptop.

And she takes the stairs like a big kid. No more creeping. Sometimes she even alternates her feet while she climbs, although she has to be holding someone’s hand to do that. She can jump, too. Real jumps, both feet off the ground. She runs and climbs. She can get in and out of her crib and can even get out of her crib and make her way upstairs, all by herself. 

She is an utterly charming delight to be around. She has her moments of course, and we’re no strangers to tantrums about wanting or not wanting to wear her “cozy shirt” or some other nonsensical two-year-old problem, but she sure is fun.

And Miss Nancy, if you ever want to stop by for a visit, you are always welcome.

1,2,3... from Maureen on Vimeo.

There were so many other parking spots

Ann Marie and I went to Costco today. I got there when it opened, so I had a pretty decent parking spot nice and close to the cart return. After we were done and I had loaded all of the things into the car, I saw a minivan waiting for my parking spot, blinker fully engaged. She sat there while I shut the trunk and walked the cart back to the cart return. There were plenty of other spots free, so I don't see why she didn't just park in one of them. Why is it people are willing to spend extra time waiting in the car in order to save time walking? It's like the people who show up forty-five minutes early for school pickup. Yes, they get a spot close to the door which makes for a quicker getaway, but I get there ten minutes early and I drive away only about five minutes after the early people, so the total time I spend waiting around the school is only fifteen minutes and they wait forty-five. How does that make any sense?

But this minivan lady must have thought it would be worthwhile to wait; after all, all I had to do was return the cart, buckle the baby into her car seat, get in and drive away. How long can that possibly take? What she failed to consider, however, was that buckling the baby into her car seat takes at least five minutes, and that's when she is being cooperative. When she is not cooperating, it takes approximately 400 years. Getting into the car is one of the times where I hear a lot of "DO SELF!" but do not see a lot of self-doing. Other areas where "DO SELF" is unwelcome: Pouring milk from the full glass quart container, putting shoes on when we have places to be, and changing dirty diapers. She is most definitely not allowed to "DO SELF" her own poopy diapers.

But the car. The car is where I am most likely to lose my mind as I stand in the weather, waiting for her highness to stop pushing buttons and deign to turn around and sit down. Every time I must weigh whether it will be faster to let her DO SELF or to force her and endure her stiff-bodied wrath. If it were just regular old screamy wrath I'd endure it no problem, but she's a lot stronger than you might think and it can be pretty challenging to force her into a car-seat-amenable body shape if she doesn't want to comply. So I usually give her a few minutes.

But the lady in the minivan has apparently never tried to put an independent toddler into a car seat before. To her, it looked like I returned the cart and then went back to my car in order to stand there with the door open for no reason whatsoever. "What is she DOING?" she must have been thinking. "Doesn't she SEE ME HERE?"

Yes. Yes I did see her there. I thought she was probably going to be unhappy with how long it took me to get into the car. I would maybe even have felt some slight pressure to try to hurry Ann Marie along, except that there were about fifteen other parking spots within my sight line. None of them were closer to the entrance, but at least one was only fifteen feet further away. And that one was closer to the cart return.

And yet she waited. After what must have seemed an interminable length of time where I just stood at the car, waiting in the cold just for fun, she pulled forward and looked at me with an expression that said, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I said, "It's going to be a long time," and shrugged. I don't know if she could read my lips or not, but she drove away and the vibe I received was very annoyed. Meanwhile, I was saying "Turn around and sit. Turn around and sit. I will give you the juice box when you are buckled. Turn and sit. Turn and sit. Sit. Sit down. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sitsitsitsitsitsitsit," because that is how I spend 15% of my overall time. And it's not even that I drive that often, it's that it takes Ann Marie so long to get in the car.

So, no, lady who didn't want to park fifteen feet further from the entrance. I have no sympathy for you whatsoever.

The cons of autumn

I love fall. Fall in New England makes February worth it. I especially love fall in the city where I now live. There seem to be just so many more types of trees around here compared to where I grew up, and so many of them are huge. The house next door to us has a simply enormous oak tree and two gigantic maples in their yard. Every year, they turn the most glorious colors, and when the afternoon sunlight angles in and hits them just right, they glow.

So. Huge, beautiful trees turning gorgeous colors: Pro.

But do you know what happens to the leaves after they're done glowing on the trees in the afternoons? They fall off the trees. Into your yard. And have to be picked up.







Do you see the size of that leaf pile? Nora is standing up in that middle picture. In the top picture, Ann Marie actually got stuck in the pile as if it were leaf quicksand. And that's not even all the leaves in the yard! I didn't bother with the part in front of the side door or the section around and behind the swing set. Why not rake all of it and be done, you ask? In response, I present the trees directly above our yard:



That's a lot of leaves up there. And over the past eight years we have learned that these trees shed their leaves last.

Actually, the past eight years have given me the chance to make some observations of the natural world. First, walnut trees turn yellow and lose their leaves in September when Norway maples are still lush and green; Norway maples turn last. Second, the first leaves to turn are the ones that get the most sun. This is a particularly nice effect because of the afternoon sunlight angling in and making them glow, as I mentioned. Third, trees in a clump turn colors starting from the outside in. My theory here is that the inner trees are kept warm by their neighbors and thus get the temperature signal to go dormant only after their neighbors have shed their leaves, but the takeaway message is that in a copse of Norway maples, the ones in the middle lose their leaves dead last.

These?



The middle trees in a copse of Norway maples.  So yeah, we've got several weeks to go. We will be raking up those leaves in late November, when it is really really cold and there will be a distinct lack of joyful jumping into the leaves. There will instead be a lot of grumbling about cold hands.

Late November freezing cold raking of leaves: Con.

Ah, well, I still think the pros outweigh the cons.

A time and place for paper towels

Temerity Jane just wrote a 150,000 word post on paper towels and how she won't buy them and has instead bought unpaper towels. In case you don't have the kind of time it takes to read 150,000 words on paper towels*, let me recap it for you here: Kelly doesn't like to spend money on things like paper towels which are used only once. She tried to use dishcloths, but they did not fulfill her paper towel needs. So she bought some handmade "unpaper towels" which are basically a specialized dishcloth that have the right thickness to stand in for a paper towel. There, Kelly. That only took 55 words.

Now I am ALL FOR the end of paper towel purchases. I am fully on board. I stopped buying them myself, under the premise that if I don’t have them, I can’t use them. I have found that dishcloths and dish towels do work pretty well for our paper towel needs, but I have to admit I am intrigued by this unpaper towel product and may buy some to try out.

But all that being said, there is a time and a place for paper towels, and that place is your kitchen and the time is immediately after an entire glass quart full of milk is dropped on the floor and shatters.

You see, we buy our milk in glass quarts from the local dairy. We do this because I like to support local businesses, and because I like reusing things whenever possible, and because the purchasing of reusable glass bottles of local milk gives me a pleasant smug feeling. There are two major downsides to this system. First, the glass bottles only come in quarts, so a week’s worth of milk takes up an inordinate amount of space in our refrigerator. Second, when a glass quart of milk is dropped on the floor, you get milky shard of glass everywhere. Just everywhere.

The first time this happened, I had recently climbed on the “no paper towels” train, so I grabbed a bunch of dish towels – including the pack of brand new dish towels that I had purchased that very day because when your kitchen is covered in spreading puddle of glassy milk you grab whatever is most handy- to sop up the milk. And it worked fabulously. The towels were absorbent enough to get all the milk and thick enough to protect my hands from the glass splinters.

But then I had a pile of milk-soaked towels, studded with shards of glass. “I’ll just put these in the washing machine immediately so they don’t fill the kitchen with the smell of sour milk,” I thought, and dropped them in. “I’m sure the washing machine will also get all the glass out.”

Did you spot the flaw in this plan? The good news is that I also spotted the flaw just as my hand was about to press the start button, and I did not run a bunch of broken glass through my washing machine. So that’s something. So then I decided to dump the glassy towels on the porch to dry in the sun with the plan of shaking the glass off the towels once everything was dry.

Did you find the second flaw? But fortunately, a few days later my brain clicked on mere moments before I shook a million glass splinters all over the porch my kids sometimes walk on barefoot. Unfortunately, that left me with a pile of glass-splintery, sour-milk dish towels - three of which were brand new – and no idea what to do with them.

I threw them out. Much like I would have thrown out paper towels, but far more expensively and probably with a bigger environmental impact.

So now I try to keep at least one roll of paper towels around. For milk emergencies.

*You should though, because Kelly’s version is much, much funnier.

1, 2, 3, foh

Ann Marie has learned to count, sort of. This is not something I've "worked on" with her. My theory, in fact, is that she picked it up from all the "you have until I count to..." we say to the other two. At any rate, here she is, counting to ten. Sort of. My favorite parts are her face when she says, "Fohhhhhhhhh" and how the "YAAAAYYYY!" gets earlier and earlier with each iteration.

1,2,3... from Maureen on Vimeo.

Sidewalk Parking: Major update!

The sidewalk parking has been slowly improving, but there are still some fairly egregious offenders, like this car right here:



I helpfully pointed out the curb for you, because you might have thought that was a parking lane or something. And this car is parked here every day. The owner of this car considers this piece of sidewalk to be his or her assigned parking spot. It's not a very busy street; I actually never use it, so technically this car has never been in my way. But ask me if I care.

But! Things are not all terrible! Look at this car:



That car is owned by the first person I ever asked to stop parking on the sidewalk. It is owned by a woman who said, "But I don't want my car to be hit," and then made a sort of face when I pointed out I couldn't get by, especially because of that giant tree she usually parked right next to, and she generously said that she would "try" not to park "so close" to the tree. She then continued to park on the sidewalk every day. BUT NO MORE. I think she got a ticket. The guy who used to park on the sidewalk right behind her also stopped, and he is another one who told me that he doesn't want his car to get hit and that he "always parks there" and would not stop. TICKET.

I have been in touch with a city councilwoman and she was putting me on the schedule for the council meeting on Sept. 24. So today I went out with my camera to gather more recent data and made a special trip down to the very busy street on which there used to be a five or so block stretch of cars blocking the sidewalk. But there were only a few cars still doing it! And then a cop saw me taking a photo and pulled over to talk to me. He told me I don't have to do that, because they put a notice in the paper warning people that they are going to start ticketing for this on Sept. 9.

VICTORY IS MINE.

Here's the blurb in the paper, with my city's name redacted:

Parking complaints lead to enforcement in xxx

UPDATED: 09/06/2013 08:03:08 AM EDT

Police have received numerous complaints from residents about vehicles parked on sidewalks across the city. This is an issue that we deal with the beginning of every school year. Residents need to be aware that parking your vehicle on a sidewalk is cause for your vehicle to be ticketed. Sidewalks need to be kept clear for the safety of the children walking to and from school. Violators put children and residents at risk by causing them to walk around the illegally parked vehicles and into these heavily travelled streets.

Effective Monday September 9, 2013, City Police will be ticketing any vehicles that are illegally parked on sidewalks. Please be respectful of your neighbors and mindful of the safety of others by parking legally.

Do you see that part that says "numerous complaints"? I'm pretty sure that was me, numerous times.

BOO YA. (I am choosing to ignore the part that says we deal with this issue "at the beginning of every school year," as though sidewalk parking is fine when school is not in session.)

And now I don't even have to go to a city council meeting! Woo! But I will remain vigilant, and I'm going to go down and check the status next to park on the busy street when there is a softball game, because the cars LINE the sidewalks on BOTH SIDES during the games. Or they did. Maybe they'll all get ticketed. We can but hope.