Cold Spaghetti

I’ve crossed into a new realm of parenting.

It was there, but I didn’t recognize it until now.

I’m in the midst of planning how to celebrate Kate’s 3rd birthday, which is Saturday.  Kate wants a birthday party and that simple request has melted me into a puddle of whine (no question now where Will gets it from).

But now I get it.  Will’s parties are SO DIFFERENT now.  When he goes to parties, it’s just kids.  Sometimes parents aren’t even there.  Just a bunch of kids.  It’s a real party for kids.

Kate’s age is different.  A party for her is a playdate where parents gather to party.  It’s a very different beast.  With a 3-year old birthday, you’re entertaining two age groups — plus, you’re more likely to have mixed ages of children as other siblings attend.  I’m realizing that it is hard to be simple when you’re worried about making everyone feel welcome and have a good time.

This is putting everything in perspective for me.  I think I would just invite one or two families over for cake, but Kate has been to a lot of birthday parties now and she knows the drill.  She has been asking EVERYDAY if her friends can come over, have cake, and “sing me Happy Birthday”.

Hi, this is my blog! It’s where I whine about annoying things.

Donna Reed would have never been this ridiculous.

(Photo by Will)

I am a woman with many irrational fears.  And three times as many pet peeves.

A few of the things I am irrationally afraid of:

— Driving off of a bridge and into a body of water with the kids in the car.

— Intestinal parasites that enter through the feet (oddly, I am not afraid of any other intestinal parasites).

— Kate falling off the slide/swing set/stairs/ladder or whatever else she has climbed up despite being half the size and a quarter of the age requirement.

— A child running into the street.

— The attachments to bicycles where kids ride? They are so low that I worry a car won’t see them.

— Someone breaking in the front of the house and I can’t the kids out of the back of the house fast enough.

A few things I am irrationally irritated or preoccupied by:

— Yard chemicals being tracked through the house on shoes.

— Mud on shoes or clothes getting on bed linens or furniture.

— Whether or not my pillowcase is causing me to break out.

— That I’m not diligent enough about the kids’ teeth.

— Dirty hands.

Lucky for me, the people in my life tolerate my craziness.  This means that they generally abide by my crazy rules.

— No sitting on furniture when you’ve been working outside, until you’ve bathed/changed clothes.

— No walking around barefoot outside, especially in rural areas.

— I have to brush everyone’s teeth.

— Unlocking the doors when we go over a bridge (one less thing to do if the car flies off).  When I’m feeling particularly crazy, I also get out the glass punch from the glove compartment and put it down my shirt or in my pocket until we’re off the bridge.

— Sleeping with one of the kids (sometimes both) when Paul is not around.

— Strict handwashing.

I try really hard to not be as crazy as I am.  In general, I consider myself pretty laid back.  I’m not afraid of getting dirty, I like mud pies, and have absolutely no problem with getting stains on things (I’m a master remover.)

Also?  I love walking in the rain.

According to all those guides of readiness, Kate has been ready to potty train for a few years.  Unfortunately, she is not on board with that assessment.

Which means that any attempt (as seen below) is only a flirtation with disaster.

MY REFRAIN: I will not force the issue.  She will do it on her own.

THE PART THAT MAKES THIS CHOICE OKAY: If you don’t force it, it will be easy when it happens.

ALSO: Go out and buy a ton of diapers.  That will ensure she potty trains as quickly as possible.

—

In other news, it’s Gwen‘s birthday!  She’s 21 in hex, too.  And I can prove it.  See this picture of us, taken last week?  Young vixens.

“It always pays to be prepared,” Button says.

“Yes sirree, indeed,” Fulbert replies.

“Do you think we need our galoshes, Fulbert dear?” Button asks.

“No, I want everyone to admire my cute ankles,” Fulbert answers.

(photos by Paul)

Purple has been a big color in the Internets this week.  First, twitter pages started going purple in honor of little Madeline Spohr.  Then in dual purpose of supporting another tragedy with the loss of baby Thalon.

Like so many others, I have spent time and tears this week lurking in the unexplainable, unimaginable loss of a child. I remember the losses of children within my own family and friends and it makes me appreciate the internet a little more… that we can share and educate and act.

These pictures of Kate, wearing purple, seemed an appropriate fit to this week’s theme.

I’m hugging my kids extra tightly. I feel very, very lucky.

They wait between the bridge and the bird island, very close to mediation walk.  Not the only red ant mound in Audubon Park, but certainly one of the largest.  So large that toddlers may find the urge to climb it.

She did it on Sunday, a week ago.  Falling into the pile meant that her hands and knees took the most punishment.  Little puss-filled bites are on her fingers on palms.  A few trail down her legs.  Paul was there in a second — we saw it happen before it actually happened — to beat the ants off of her, taking a few bites of his own.  It was traumatic for all of us.

The sight of any bug, especially an ant, has become a terror for her — something her brother has started to exploit.  (“Look, Kate, there’s an ant on my truck!” — “Oh no!” says Kate, promptly dropping truck.)  Who knew Kate could develop a phobia?

We’ll see how long it lasts — and how long these take to heal.  As for the ants, I’ve written the Audubon Park people… and I hope they blast those varmints to smithereens.

I finished an abstract today, ahead of schedule, thus completing one of my recently self-assigned dissertation milestones.  It was an incredible achievement on my part, right up there with my self-inflicted embargo of the Twilight series (I may not read until I’ve finished a draft).  My work ethic — it boggles the mind.

All the work work work please don’t talk to me I’m writing work work laundry laundry make dinner work has made it very difficult to procrastinate, which means that I was unable to plan for a last-minute trip out of town.  We were close to picking up and heading out to a tax-deductible, in-support-of-the-company weekend trip to Houston to go to the Ikea (356 miles away) to binge on cheap Scandavian furniture for the office.  When Paul found out that they had BOTH a supervised children’s play area AND cooked ham with mashed potatoes for $6.99, he was ready to take off this afternoon.  Unfortunately, responsibility found out and came knocking and finger-wagging.  Sure, it’d be NICE to have books up off the floor and all, but the next year’s school fees and summer camp deposits are BOTH due at the end of the month.  And the kids need shoes.

In the spirit of looking for creative ways to pay tuition… I’m I too old to sell my unused lady eggs?  They are very effective.

Kate’s room, as seen last night while the kids were in the tub.  It is now officially Kate’s room.

We moved in furniture from our room and gathered it on one wall. Without the huge bed in the room, it feels cavernous.

The house is feeling strange. Posh, even.   There are no boxes piled in the kids’ “play” area.  Toys are displayed in places where kids can reach them and use them.  Children have separate areas.  There are places for imaginative play.  We are not stepping over drying pieces of wood trim.  Unprotected tools, wires, and other dangerous equipment are limited to a few places.

The canopy was one of Kate’s Christmas presents.  It has flowers and butterflies to decorate and hang at the top… I’ll tackle doing that with her one afternoon when I can pack up my crazies tight in a box and be okay with her going wild on those perfect little flowers…

We never painted Kate’s closet doors.  This is because we keep going back and forth on whether or not we’re going to put my Great-Grandmother’s vanity beside the closet — which would prevent the doors from opening.  If we did this, we were going to hang curtains over the door openings.  I actually have had the curtains since before Kate was born… but we can’t decide whether to actually move the vanity.

Sometimes, I seem to favor discussing the possibilities more than actually doing them. Also, I really like to move furniture around.

Now the thought is that we’re going to move the bookshelf into Will’s room and put the mirror up on the wall for Kate, with hooks along side to hang her hats and masks for dress up.

These wood pieces are from Iquitos.  A butterfly and 2 parrots are missing — they were missing anchors on their backs for hanging.  Another trip to the hardware store and they’ll join the bunch.

I finished this painting the night before Will was born… I never even signed my name!  Kate calls it “Mommy,” which I love.  The angels and moon/stars are Nancy Thomas, compliments of my Mother’s wonderful taste in fun, lively art.  (She worked for Nancy in her studio/store in Yorktown when I was in college.)

Kate has been enthralled with each and every part of the room… I was surprised she stopped for a second to smile at the camera!

The art on the door is from Will — maybe it’s time for Kate to hang up some door art?

I’m trying to think of other ways to display their art around the house… cords hanging on the walls to display pieces like a laundry line?  Other ideas?  It seems like they bring home volumes of paper from school and it just piles up in the kitchen.  With all the space in their rooms, I feel like it should have a place, too, where the kids can be proud of what they have done.  What do other parents do?

Will’s class works on a reward system where kids are given points for good behavior at the end of each day.  When the kids have earned 10 of these points, they are awarded a BIG “Bon” Point and are allowed to select a “Creature” card: a little picture of an animal on cardstock with their name, the date, and the animal’s name in French written on the back.  Somewhere in the craziness of last fall, Paul and I tied rewards at home to the school’s rewards… Will gets to pick dinner on the nights he brings home a Big Bon Point.  While he’s surprised us once or twice with requests for pot roast and/or macaroni and cheese, almost always the request is for a cheeseburger.

A few weeks ago, we decided to enjoy the beautiful spring weather and make an afternoon of the cheeseburger Bon Point.  We walked up to the Streetcar, rode down to Camilla Grill, ate our counter-service burgers, caught the Streetcar back down St. Charles Avenue and walked home.

A very New Orleans family outing.

Even though we can see it coming from a mile away (well, almost), I still get nervous about someone getting hit by the streetcar.  We end up holding the kids too tightly for way too long, dropping quarters in sweaty hands and grasping at falling bags because we were too anxious.  Silly, silly.

Windows open!

The kids are quiet and serene on the streetcar… once they settle into a seat.

The “wedding cake” house, nestled in the live oaks.  There was scaffolding up all around it for almost a year to paint it — the job simply took that long to get right.

Walking home, the kids had a lot more energy.

And did more exploring.

Kate LOVES to smell flowers.  Only, she doesn’t quite have the whole “smell” thing down.  She sort of snorts on them.  (Bummer for the unsuspecting plant when her nose needs a proper tissue-holding blow.)

Whoa!  A bee!

See the monkeys in the tree?

Kate was pretty independent on the walk back.

Enough, Mom.

Uh-ho.

No, she’s not running at Paul because she wants picked up (as if).  Kate is no more.  THAT is a MONSTER.

Incoming!  It’s a MONSTER!

This is the last picture I took, because Paul and Will were promptly eaten immediately following this snapshot.

And they tasted mighty good with those Camilla burgers in their tummies.  Just ask Kate… errr… The Monster…

Our kids’ school held a huge French Festival last weekend — it’s the biggest fundraiser for our nonprofit and is the event around which the entire school revolves.

This is to say, it’s a big deal.

We’re very invested.  (See?  That’s us — major supporters.)

The kids open Fete with songs.  Will, among the youngest in his grade (and so darn cute), stood front and center for the kick-off song medley — all popular French songs that we parents have heard sung to us a few dozen times a year.

For this first performance, Will (standing smack in the center for all to see) was the kid that sort of stands there while the rest sing around him.  Either he knows the songs so well that he can’t bear to sing them AGAIN, or, this whole thing with his hearing reduction over the past 6 months is so severe that he didn’t quite get all the words to some of the songs.  Or, maybe his nose is just so enthralling he could not leave it alone?

It was actually pretty hilarious, watching him sort of heavily sigh.  Particularly during songs he’s belted out 800 times at home, like “Freire Jacques”.

Really, being the center of attention to several hundred adoring parents and classmates is SO BORING.

And then this started.  Circled for emphasis.

With some more of this.  Again, circled.

Eventually Will took a seat (see him in the audience?) to watch the rest of the classes perform.  His individual class performance came later.

Before he took the stage for his second performance, he told me he was going to sing his class song AS LOUD AS HE COULD and RIGHT TO ME.

Here they are, warming up to the song with a dance inspired by the story, Kirikou.  It’s a story they’d read many times in class and took a field trip to the local movie theatre to see a special showing of the French release of a movie based on the story.

Here they are, getting ready for the song:

And here’s the song:

Kate’s class, the youngest in the school, also performed.  Here she is hanging out in the chaos of students, teachers, and parents… waiting patiently.

Despite all her singing of “Freire Jacques” at home — and perhaps in spite of my maniac practice of it on piano and drilling the words with her so that she’d be able to sing it for Fete — Kate’s class didn’t sing.  They danced.

Three of Kate’s classmates didn’t make it through the circle dance.  Parents were invited to join in, to keep the little ones calm.  We didn’t worry about Kate.  We knew she’d be ROCK OUT, NO PROBLEM.

Here’s some more of Will, bustin’ moves.

Still, with the nose.

And whatever else…?

Singing to me(!), as promised.

What a cutie.

Singin’ in French.

School? Mission accomplished. We parents have effectively been brainwashed into believing that the amount spent on school last year (more than twice my total student loan debt and more than the cost of all 4 years of my college education combined)… was worth it.

Work hard, kids. You ARE our 401K.