grading frenzy

Post date night activity: grading student papers.

Here's some choice (collegiate!) student gaffes for you:

From my class: "Steps were taken by humans and scientists..."

From Neil's class: "The problem with the trebuchet design is that the wood began boeing" (I suggested that he write on their paper "Maybe it should be Lockheed in place").

(if that doesn't make sense to you, let me add the clarification that Boeing and Lockheed Martin are both in the aerospace industry).

friday, friday, it's friday

dear neil,

today the weather is gross. it is raining on the snow and you know how i hate that.

i have piles and piles of grading to do. so do you, by the way.

also, there's lots of tears around here.

abigail told me,"i am sad and crying because daddy is gone at work because he loves us so he is making money to buy food and so we have a house and princess clothes."

don't you wish we were here?

or maybe swinging down south to here?

or perhaps a few hours northeast?

or just up the canyon?

but really, i'd settle for wherever you are.

which unfortunately, is not here right now.

so thank goodness for date night.

and colorful fonts when i am bored.

miscellany

Ah, where to begin?


First of all, I'm feeling much better. Abigail had a friend over this morning and the two of them played fabulously together, so I was able to catch up on most of the housework I've missed over the last few days. And just as I was looking out at the snowy streets and bemoaning the fact that I really HAD to go to the grocery store as soon as Juliet woke up from her nap, one of my friends came by with dinner for us (which made me feel a little guilty for writing a blog post sounding like I was crawling off my deathbed to make dinner for my family...but believe me, I just about burst into tears when I opened the door. I was very, very, very grateful. Even if I'm not dying).

I was so touched by her thoughtfulness, especially since she told me that she had resolved to reach out to others after having a pretty rough time herself last week. And I was also very touched by the fact that while we are friends, since our children aren't the same ages we don't tend to see a lot of each other outside of church, so I was just really...moved by the fact that she went so far out of her way to help someone who she doesn't see on a regular basis. I think too often I tend to confine my acts of service to the people that I see a lot, or whose children play with mine, because those are the people who I am most aware of. So thank you, Heather, for encouraging me by your actions to reach out to a wider circle!


And secondly, it's been awhile since we've seen any pictures. In fact, I think I have over 200 pictures that I've taken lately that I haven't even looked through to think about posting any online...so I'll give you a sampling.


I like to call this little array "Buddies." Or alternately, "How My Children Entertain Themselves All Day While I Compose Blogs In My Head."

First...our cast.

Maniacal Abigail...


...and the ever expressively-eyebrowed Juliet.



Collectively known as...

...my wit fails me. Moving on.


Yesterday Abigail spent a very long time playing with her Leapfrog Fridge Phonics toy (great, great, LOVE that thing) and Juliet.

She was trying to teach Juliet all the letters, which I find somewhat ironic, considering as the letters that Abigail knows fall into one of the following categories:

• those that look akin to Greek letters (from many walks to and from campus during the summer past the fraternities)
• the letters of each of our first names, since they are written on the yogurt containers in the 'fridge (that way Abigail limits her yogurt intake per day, since she knows she can only have one "A" yogurt every day and the "N" and "R" ones are off limits)
• the letters that spell "DELL" (um...we like computers, I guess)
• and other ones, depending on the day. But let's just say...we haven't made any serious effort to teach her the letters of the alphabet. I don't want her to be bored in kindergarten, although...speaking of which...it seems now like preschool is pretty much expected and kindergarten picks up where first grade used to...hmm. I'll have to write a bigger post on this later.

Anyway, my point is, it was funny to watch Abigail. Anyway. Here is Juliet with "her" letter.

And Abigail with all the rest of them.



They were pretty cute. The best part is that they entertained each other for half an hour while I made dinner. Goooood tooooy.

Oh, and Juliet is almost able to fully sit up from a stomach position. Pretty cool, eh?



One thing that Abigail is FABULOUS at (take notes, Neil!) is giving Juliet a toy or book when Abigail wants to play with the one Juliet currently has. Rather than just taking it away to play with it herself (Neil, are you reading this?) she carefully gets another one out, gently slides out the one that she [Abigail] wants for herself, and spends a minute or so getting Jules involved with the new one (look, Neil! Quit toy-stealing!)

Sometimes I get upset when Abigail plays with my camera and turns off the red-eye thingie. But sometimes I laugh, because it results in pictures like this, which I have chosen to call "Demon Baby Attacks Quiet Book. Or Possibly Own Fists."

It's a keeper.



Blurry, but this captures one of my favorite things about these two...they just adore snuggling together. They'd do it all day if I let them, preferably inside the laundry baskets. I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

But they'll settle for stories on the couch.

It's pictures like this that make me want to go wake up a perfectly content sleeping baby and kiss her about a hundred million times all over her soft fat kissable little cheeks.

As a sidenote to this picture, before I got married I wanted my future husband to be smart, funny, compassionate, good with kids, etc., etc.

What I never even considered was his kid-music repertoire. Fortunately, I hit the jackpot, as the nightly bathtime strains of "Rubber Duckie, You're the One" belted out in manly tones would tell you. (Oh, and Neil knows more of the Disney Princess songs than I do, thanks to a Disney CD one of his mission companions had. Apparently their mission president OK'd Disney music and classical music. Which means that every night, Neil is the one who has to sing the Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella songs. It's really cute. And surprisingly manly.)

And last but not least, here's some little comparison photos for you.

Here's Abigail, circa December 2005.

And here's Abigail last week.

And Jules. Also last week.

Both of them busily turning the living room into Fisher Price Happyville...

...punctuated by a few rounds of their mutual favorite game, "Picture Picture." If someone knows why one child would stand like this, make clicking noises, and yell "picture picture" while the other one laughs hysterically, would they please explain it to me?

All I know is it keeps 'em both happy. For a looooong time.

The end.

today

this morning the book alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day was sort of running through my head like a mantra.

why?

point one: due to illness, i canceled my classes for the first time EVER.

point two: juliet rolled off my bed.

point three: abigail got up a total of four times in the middle of the night.

point four: juliet woke up at 5 am and screamed for who knows how long.

point five: abigail took one look at my slumped-over posture and teary face this morning and yelled "please i want to go to Elise's house NOW! NOW, please!!"

but then again...

point six: i am beginning to be able to breathe again through my nose. this is a definite improvement.

point seven: today Abigail had Joy School, so I had a blissful hour of quiet this morning while Jules napped.

point eight: the pediatrician reassured me that my child is probably just fine.

point nine: there is fresh bread baking in my oven.

point ten: when I spontaneously burst into tears throughout the morning, I had both sympathetic children and friends who offered hugs. thank you andrea and kathleen for also helping me to think rationally about juliet's bed-rolling.

point eleven: i am now going to go to sleep.

point twelve: sorry about the whining. sometimes it's inevitable.

notes from the sickroom

I'b so tired ub being sick.

This is what stinks about teaching--I'm exposed to way more viral enemies via my students, half of whom have missed class lately due to...you guessed it...illness (which they tell me as they hand me their germ-besmeared homework).

In any case, today I noticed one nice thing about being sick: the smallest accomplishment takes on mammoth proportions, because when you're sick (or at least when I'm sick) I think that I should spend the day in bed with a box of tissues and a gallon of orange juice, and since I can't do that since I have two small people calling "mamamamamamama I need you" (and shining a flashlight in my eyes to see "how sick you are, just look here okay and you feel better so probably you can get out of bed now and get me some breakfast so hurry please because i am very hungry are you getting up now i am very hungry get up now now now i want some cereal and oranges and yogurt") and a husband who is gone all day and leaves again before bedtime three days out of four, I have to get up and take care of everyone. Therefore, doing something like feeding the girls breakfast and changing them out of their pajamas is really impressive.

And let me tell you, as I mopped up the kitchen floor after breakfast this morning, on my hands and knees no less, I felt like Hercules cleaning the Augean stables (except I didn't divert any rivers, which probably would have made it go a lot faster). And also, my floor wasn't covered in manure. Just strawberry jam.

your thoughts

On Saturday, I went to a stake enrichment meeting where we focused on visiting teaching. I left the meeting inspired to be a better visiting teacher, but really without any concrete ideas. I'm the type of person who functions much better if someone tells me something like "set up appointments by the 10th each month" versus "make sure your sisters know you are excited to see them."

So here is my question for you: what kinds of things can visiting teachers do to move out of realm of duty and into that of someone who really loves and cares and makes that obvious? How do you build friendships with the women you visit? What have your visiting teachers done that really made you feel loved? What can we do to really magnify the calling we have as visiting teachers so that we're not dropping by once a month and ignoring them the rest of the time?

And I'm leaving my story in the comment.

this morning i had a date.

just me, the snow, a shovel, and the sunrise.

it was just lovely.

my honey

Yesterday this man came home and found me surrounded by sobbing overtired children (they both skipped naps for some horrific unknown reason) trying frantically to spoon dinner into Juliet's mouth, convince Abigail that broccoli tastes better cooked than frozen, and set the table for dinner. When we were restored to peace and eating our tasty tikka masala, my sweetie looked over at me and said the following:

"You know, I was riding the bus home today and thinking about my research and I thought, gosh, Rachael would be so much better at getting all this done than I am. Maybe she should be the one going to school right now. But then I thought, wait a minute, the most important work in our family isn't doctoral research. And I'm so glad that the more intelligent, talented, and capable person in our marriage is the one who is raising our children."

Wasn't that so sweet?

That's why I married that man.

been a long time...

I was thinking the other day about how when I first started this blog, it was mostly a record of funny things Abigail says. And I don't write those much anymore.

So I thought...why don't I?

And I realized that it's because, sadly enough, she doesn't say funny things anymore, because she's pretty much figured out all the funny things (like language) that I used to laugh at.

Oh, sure, there's still the occasional snicker, like when I overheard her trying to figure out the gender (and appropriate pronoun) of the fridge yesterday: "Oh, dah fridge, oops! I need to close him door. He door? She door? Her door? Um...just say 'fridge door.' Das sound good."

But in general, she's suddenly like this tiny little mini adult. And moreover, she's not just any adult, she is 100% female.

Case in point.

Yesterday I wore these earrings (for the first time since I received them) to work:


(No, I didn't wear the T-shirt to work--I wore an angora turtleneck. Not exactly kid-friendly. This was a end-of-day picture).

Neil never noticed them--not in the morning when he got up, or when he dropped me off, or when he picked me up and I dropped him off, or when he came home for dinner or when we washed the dishes or when he came home from splits with the missionaries or when I took them off before going to bed.

Abigail, however, commented on them as soon as she saw me that day: "Oh, Mommy, those are some pretty earrings. Let's see...they are black and silver, huh? Those are very nice. I like them. You look like a princess."

Throughout the day, she would occasionally tell me again, "Those earrings are just so so cute!" In short, she never fails to give an opinion on my choice of jewelry or shoes as soon as she sees me dressed.

And then there's this little triumvirate of pictures:

Can you tell what she's doing and who she's been watching?

Yes. That is my two-year-old, carefully (re)arranging fruit and then "taking a picture" of the results. In fact, when I asked her if she was finished, she put her head to one side, looked speculatively at the bowl, shook her head and frowned, and then said, "No, I think there is some space for one more orange right here in this spot. That will look so nice."

And then there's Juliet, whose metamorphosis into a "big girl princess friend" Abigail is eagerly awaiting. One thorn that apparently digs deep into Abigail's soul is Juliet's lack of hair, because really, Abigail would LOVE to share her collection of "pretties" with Jules.

So today, in apparent frustration, she went after the tufts on the back of Juliet's head, and then proudly announced, "Oh Mommy! Juliet has a sparkly pretty on her hair and she is so beautiful, not a baby, but a princess!"

And Juliet, I imagine, felt something like this about the whole process:

Oh well. Much as I miss my perpetual source of linguistic amusement, there are some definite pros to Abigail's advancing years and skills:

She can finally earn her keep around here!

Just wait, Juliet. The hour cometh.

So enjoy your lounging while you can...

Because I've got my eye on you too.

speaking of taking photos of car searches during the olympics: my dear jen came up trumps and retrieved some more memories.

http://nothingcomesofnothing.blogspot.com/2008/02/non-olympic-venues.html

picture 1: me. amused.

picture 2: me. at the bathroom place at big rock candy mountain.

picture 3. jen. and trusty facundo the car. no, i do not know what it was named facundo. ask greta.

picture 4: me. i think. jen is much more attractive from behind.

picture 5: me. i think. the hair does not look curly.

picture 6. our toes. and the creek. it's a long story.

picture 7. jen. not rescuing me when i fell. she was meditating instead. in joy, probably, about the fact that she would finally have a room to herself back at heritage halls.

picture 8. me. probably going 100 mph.

picture 9: jen. taken while i was driving. or maybe we stopped. i certainly hope so.

Um...oops

Today I was feeling pretty good about my accomplishments. Teaching classes? Check. Grading? Check. Cleaning bathrooms? Check. Three miles on the treadmill, paying bills, visiting teaching, laundry? Check, check, check, check. So on top of it all.

Then when I put Abigail down for her nap, she said, "Oh dolly, you're still not done with your carrot. You need to hurry up."

How is it that I missed the fact that her doll was "eating" a nasty dried-up piece of carrot for the last four days? When was the doll fed? And where was I? And how many other stuffed animals and dolls were tenderly encouraged to eat bits of peas and corn and carrots while I wondered vaguely where all these ants were coming from in the middle of winter?

festivities

some of my favorite pictures from this time in my life six years ago...during byu's fake spring break, aka "salt lake city olympics 2002."

did we seize our chance to watch olympic sports, you ask?

No, we most certainly did not. we did venture to SLC and walk around and look at the scary people dancing in the streets. we did take pictures of the men searching our car to make sure we weren't bringing any explosives into the city (although when we took pictures they asked us if we were byu students, we said yes and continued to snap away, and they quit searching the trunk, rolled their eyes, and waved us on past).

so this is what we did. we being my dear dear friend and roommate jen and myself.

we went to bob's mission farewell in fruit heights.

and then we drove south, south, south, to winslow, arizona.

where we watched the olympics on TV while six weeks worth of laundry churned and spun, visited flagstaff and ate at the flaming wok and watched the count of monte cristo, caught up on six weeks of lousy sleep, and then proceeded to...

...four-wheeler through the desert (this is jen, not me)...



...slide on our backsides down the cliffs of the Little Painted Desert (it is COLD there in February, let me tell you!)



...buy cool turquoise jewelry on the Navajo reservation...

...and fall into the Grand Canyon.

the end.

where were YOU during the olympics?

your turn

Today I want to know something:

What do you love about your life right now? Or what's making you smile this Monday morning? Or what's made you count your blessings this week?

Share your good things and great tidings!

decorating

Today Abigail, Jules, and I took a trip to one of our collective favorite places (well, Juliet probably would have preferred somewhere else, but Abigail and I love it): Hobby Lobby. This is akin to Michaels' or Robert's, for you Utah folks.

It's funny because I used to totally loathe craft stores, primarily because I'm not a particularly talented artist in terms of painting or sculpture or the like. I am pretty good at colors and matching elements together that already exist, but...well, as an example, in seventh grade when we did our sculpture unit in art, I started making a bust of Florence Nightingale, and it ended up being a gargoyle. A particularly ugly gargoyle, at that. My mom saved everyone else's art projects, but mine sort of...disappeared over the years. Orange crocheted potholders, lopsided blue vases and all (although Neil and I do still have some very nice baskets that I wove in art class. Perhaps I've missed my true calling).

This sort of makes me sad, because I LOVE handmade things. I have some pillowcases that my Grandma Colleen gave me that are these beautiful heirloom pieces with hand-crocheted lace, and I absolutely adore them. And sad to say, the antiqued patina on these candlesticks made my little heart go pitter-patter. I love old things and I love imperfect pieces that were made by hand rather than mass-produced, and I've certainly tried my hand at it over the years, mostly in terms of quilting (I made a patchwork quilt for Neil that I pieced entirely by hand. It took a LONG time, and definitely my handicrafts come in just fine on the "imperfect" side of things. No chance of confusing them with anything mass-produced). I really like artisanal products, which is part of why I love baking bread so much--it's a cheap way to satisfy my handmade fix. (Incidentally, if you, like me, are interested in things like knowing how to read a diamond registry mark on a willow ware plate or learning the difference between the marlborough and cabriole (my personal favorite) styles of chair legs, I highly recommend Martha Stewart's Good Things from Tag Sales and Flea Markets. I confess, I devoured every word. It also has really fabulous project ideas for flea market and garage sale finds.)

In any case, I've always been interested in interior design, and in the last few years I've spent some time educating myself on the actual principles surrounding architecture and furniture design and color theory. I have a folder full of design ideas for some day when I have the time and money to implement them, and I've had so much fun coming up with super-cheap versions of something I see in the Pottery Barn catalog or the like (and the side benefit of this is that I can buy Neil power tools as presents and then coyly suggest that he try them out on a new project I have in mind). It's kind of nice being students, in some ways, because I really have a chance to refine my ideas about what I love without purchasing something big and then deciding a few months later that I hate it. I figure another three or four years will really give me some time to get my design scheme down pat. :-)

But every so often, I'll convince Neil that our hardworking little budget can manage some seasonal loveliness, and Abigail and I will go to Hobby Lobby to hit up the post-holiday sales and take advantage of the seasonal clearances after things like, oh, Valentine's Day, for instance. What is so fun to me about this is that Abigail absolutely LOVES Hobby Lobby, and really, what child wouldn't? It's an enormous store full of buttons, picture frames, ceramics, scads of paper, greenery, fake birds, glittery things...you name it. She loves running along the aisles and saying,"Oh Mommy, look at this so so beautiful ____! I think it wants to come home with us, okay?"

So that's what we did this morning. And it was an absolute blast.

The end.

chillin'

Today we're just hanging out. Abigail sprained her knee during the night, which means we've canceled all our activities (kind of a bummer, since she had a playdate scheduled this morning and I was looking forward to just self-indulging leisure time as a V-day gift to myself).

But on the other hand, when her knee hurts this much, she can't walk, which means we are limited to fairly quiet activities. Like reading stories, coloring, and...watching movies. Which [the movies] RARELY happens around here. And since she's in a pretty good mood, it's been a lovely morning thus far (and sort of funny to watch her crawling around, since she often takes off after something rather than just asking me to get it. I think, however, I've finally got her convinced to just let me carry her--which she'll probably now insist on for the next month, but oh well).

Which means it's time for a confession. Like all mothers, it makes me really sad when my children are sick. I don't like watching them suffer, I don't like seeing them in pain, I don't like wiping noses and cleaning up messes and such.

But I also love the cuddliness of little (mildly) sick kids. I love just snuggling together and having them be content to lie in my arms and let me sing to them. I love curling up together on my bed with goldfish crackers and juice and watching Peter Pan together. So in some ways, I love sick days, because they are a respite from our crazy jam-packed schedule where we can just sit back, cancel everything with a clear conscience, and enjoy some indulgent time. I don't feel guilty about not doing laundry or cleaning bathrooms, because hey, my kids need their mommy!

So goodbye, my friends. I'm off to enjoy my cuddly lovekins.

glee

you know you're doing something right as a parent when your child wants Mommy for cuddling away "owwww-ies!" and singing songs, whereas she asks for Daddy to wipe her backside after she goes to the bathroom.

hurrah!

also...what are your valentine's day plans? i will share mine with you in the comment, because it is a SECRET and NEIL CAN'T KNOW, so DON'T READ THE COMMENT, NEIL! or else it will disappear and not happen.

my mom

This is one of my very favorite pictures of my mom, holding my daughter.

It's taken me quite some time to think about exactly what I want to say in this post. I've been lying awake at night for about a week now thinking about it. If you know my mother, you know she is a woman of many, many, many talents. She's fiery and fun and opinionated and blindingly, intimidatingly intelligent. There's lots of things you can say about her and lots of angles that I could take on this post. But here's what I think of when I think of my mom:

I remember her reading scriptures to us every morning while we ate breakfast. Every morning. And I remember her pausing every few verses to explain exactly what was going on for the younger ones around the table.

She always used to have us sing on the way to church to "get our voices warmed up." We each picked a song in turn until we got to church. I think we ended up knowing more songs than any other kids in Primary!

When I first started piano lessons, I wasn't crazy about them. I was scared, to tell the truth. But most nights when I was falling asleep, I would hear my mom playing very quietly downstairs, and it was so beautiful and so soothing that I decided I would learn to play the piano so I could play for my kids when I grew up.

I learned the importance of prayer in my mother's life (and by extension, mine) by the countless times I've interrupted her praying. She teaches, and she exemplifies. I've never seen or heard her be hypocritical.

One of the things that fascinated me most about our family trip to Europe was not the actual visit itself, but all the preparation my mom put in beforehand. She literally spent the year before we left researching all the places we were planning to visit, making arrangements at various bed and breakfasts, hotels, etc. It was an enormous and massive undertaking; thanks to my mom it was flawlessly planned.

I've always admired my mom's ability to multitask and accomplish a huge variety of impressive things. She finished her master's degree while my dad was finishing his MBA and I was an infant; many of my professors at BYU recognized my name and said delightedly, "Oh yes! You're Meghan's little girl! I remember you sitting in class with her when you were just a few months old!" More recently, she's started her own public speaking business. Oh, and she also manages the drama program's box office, is an assistant coach for the high school speech and drama team, and has two kids in high school. And she still finds time to keep in touch with her three kids who aren't at home, and NEVER fails to write us a cheerful, newsy email every Sunday morning.

When I was eight or nine, I found the perfect birthday gift for my mother: a "best friends" necklace. I was so excited to give it to her, and her reaction was everything I had hoped for.

Once my mom gave me a copy of Pride and Prejudice and told me to read it-I think I was eight. Her book club said it was too hard. So I read it, and that opened up a whole new world for me.

One of Neil's very favorite things about my mom is that she is an amazing cook. I'll say something like, "I'm so excited to see my parents and sisters this weekend!" and he'll say, "Me too. And I'm excited to eat your mom's cooking!" My grandma always tells me stories about how my mom took over the cooking when she was eleven or so; she's probably the best cook I know. What's really fun is that she's always looking to expand her repertoire; she loves eating all kinds of ethnic food (and even managed to wrangle some cooking lessons out of some of the ethnic grocers around town!)

When I was a teenager, my mom and I had a pretty difficult relationship. I was about fifteen when she was diagnosed with clinical depression after a number of years of suffering from its effects. It was a really difficult time for our entire family, but especially for my mom. What I really admire about her reaction to this experience is that she decided to write a book about her struggle with depression from an LDS perspective in hopes of helping others going through the same trial.

Speaking of helping others, that's something that really encapsulates my mother's character. When I was a little kid, I remember she was always really busy around college application time, because EVERYONE in our ward would ask her to read over their admissions essays. She's always working to make things easier for other people, whether it's her own family, her extended family, her ward family, or people she really doesn't even know well. I love calling her for advice because it is always useful, kindly given, and she remembers what we talked about and will call me a day or two later to see how it worked out.

Today, I honestly consider my mom my best female friend. I've stopped calling every day, which I'm sure she appreciates, but she is always the first person I think of to call when something traumatic has happened or something exciting has happened or I just need to talk. I love having the chance to spend time with her--I'm always excited to go to the grocery store or go open the box office or do anything with her because it's time I can spend with my mom. I just adore her.

And lastly, the thing that I most love about my mom is the example of motherhood and self-sacrifice she's set for me. Lots of times I feel like I'm "resigned" to being a mom, like I'm "okay" with putting aside all of my accomplishments and talents to "just be a mom." Then I think about my mom, who is one of the most accomplished women I know, and how she has truly found joy in motherhood and how she hasn't just resigned herself to this role, but she has magnified and loved it, and how she has used all of her accomplishments and talents to be the best mother she can be. She is a daily inspiration to me.

I love you, Mom. And while I could and would write a lot more, I am now going to go pick up my screaming baby. Because I am trying to be a good mother like you. :-)

what do you say when, upon returning from fetching a tissue to wipe the tiny baby nose, you find your freshly bathed (and dressed in freshly laundered clothes) toddler in a puddle of tears and juice in the middle of the freshly mopped kitchen floor? and as you take a deep breath of exasperation, aforesaid toddler looks up through streaming eyes and says in a choked voice, "Maybe you should just get a new Abigail, Mommy. I'm just too messy to have."

can i just say that my heart cried for that little girl?

goodies

happiness =

• a delectable weekend visiting my parents' home
• seeing my grandma on Friday
• finding out that my little sister got into her top pick law school
• finding out that my other little sister is very happy with the fellow she's dating
• watching my (high school) sisters perform in what was, quite possibly, the very best musical I have ever seen in my life (and that includes BYU productions and touring Broadway shows). hurray for amazing choreography, tap-dancing, and unbelievable Broadway-style sing-your-heart-out belting!
• whole wheat bread and homemade freezer jam for lunch today
• a gazillion loads of fresh clean laundry
• fat little dimpled baby hands grabbing at the keyboard while I type
• a new issue of Martha Stewart Living to peruse
• an upcoming post celebrating my mother's birthday! (sorry, these things take awhile and I visited her last weekend rather than staying home to write it)

some political bits

In the aftermath of Super Tuesday (and now that I'm really starting to re-analyze who I support)...have you heard about this?

Goodbye to All That (#2) by Robin Morgan of the Women's Media Center

I'm not arguing for Hillary Clinton, per say, but I think Morgan makes some darn good points about the double standards that this election has set up. I don't totally align with Clinton--I like both Obama and Romney, but I'm not crazy about any one of the three--but I found this to be a very thought-provoking essay.

And if you haven't read it previously, check out Hillary Clinton's "Women's Rights are Human Rights" speech delivered to the 1995 UN Convention on Women in Beijing. Talk about effective rhetoric.

Drop and give me 20!

We like to start 'em young.

pictures

Sometimes when I look at the pictures I've posted on my blog I feel a little guilty, because often they're not particularly flattering pictures of my children. They're mostly just funny. And also I feel guilty because their little mouths (well, Abigail's) are often covered in chocolate or something like that.

So, my little darlings, here are some pictures to prove to you someday that occasionally your mother DID bathe you, or wipe your mouths, or attempt to take pictures of you being sweet instead of generally obnoxious (but give me some credit--I kept the naked pictures of you reading to yourself in the bathroom off the internet).

Warning: no witty captions today, folks. I'm all tired out by sick kiddies.


Can you believe this sweet little girl is going to be six months old on Thursday? She's doing her best to crawl--her specialty right now is rocking violently on her hands and knees. She's mastered the art of scooting backwards and getting stuck, whether it's under my bed, wedged into the treadmill, or rubbing against the fireplace.




Lately Abigail is really, really, really into twirling. I'm not sure where this came from, but now all she wants to wear are "twirly dresses," and then she spins around until she either a) falls over or b) runs into a wall. In any case, summer dresses are apparently more twirly than winter ones, which means we've had some interesting sartorial statements in nursery lately...(incidentally, how do you feel about letting children pick out their own clothes? I tend to let Abigail wear what she wants, as long as it's weather-appropriate. She doesn't always look as cute or trendy as I'd like, but I want to foster independence, so...I'm just curious as to what your philosophy is on this. I remember wearing a dress almost every single day in first (second?) grade, which I'm sure drove my mom crazy, but I felt so beautiful! Oh, and one thing that amuses me--lately Abigail will say something like, "I am so so beautiful, Mommy. Take a picture!").



I have the feeling our future orthodontic bills are going to be astronomyical...



I love this picture, because it depicts just how much Jules follows Abigail's every move. Hero worship, you say?




Oh, those cheeks!

Crawling off the nice clean blanket into new germ-infested territory...