Academomia

Get the weeds before they get you!

2010-03-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

The first thing I do to the yard every spring is pull all the weeds I can find. I've gotten quite the harvest this year.

And I'm not done yet. The kids like to help. As I fill up my plastic bucket, they carry it to the baby pool and dump it out. If I'm lucky, Charlie will bring it back. If he's annoyed because I'm working on the weeds and not playing, he throws it at me.

But I am starting to see signs of the grass coming back to life, something I feared wouldn't happen after last summer's awful drought when our grass died and our yard filled with hardier, dessert-adapted weeds that scratched the kids' knees if they fell on them. I get such satisfaction out of hearing their roots rip free from the soil. I guess they did their part by preventing our topsoil from cracking and blowing away, Dust Bowl style, but it is time for them to go.

Yay for grass sprouts! Grow babies grow!

Every time I find grass sprouts under a weed, I work extra hard around that area. I'm trying to avoid having to put down new sod.

All the yard work is doing a number on my kitchen floor too. The last of THREE LOADS! Yuck!!

Spring here is akin to summer in more temperate climates. We have all the windows open every day and are soaking up the sunshine before it's too hot to go outside.

This weekend's project will be getting our vegetable garden ready for seeds. I'm hoping to get enough tomatoes this year to have extra to make salsa and tomato sauce to store for later. I also want to grow basil and cilantro so I can eat them plain right out of the garden. Or, you know, use them to make salsa and tomato sauce.

Have a good weekend!

Possibly not safe for work, except that it is a carrot

2010-03-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

Check out this awesome "organic" carrot I bought the other day. Nope-er-doo! No weird chemicals used here! Except, you know, ENRICHED URANIUM. And that's not really a chemical according to the Periodic Table.

Charlie calls it the "pants carrot."

It was tasty in stew. And now I must submit to monthly monitoring by the federal government.

He's a very empathetic child

2010-03-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

Why are you crying, Charlie?

Because I wanted to get some connn-post for our baby plants and the recycling center didn't haaavvvee any.

No worries, we'll just go to Home Depot this afternoon.

But the plaaannnts neeeeeeed connn-post now!

We can plant them while Wes naps, and then later we can get some compost and put it on top.

MY BABY PUMPKIN PLANTS NEED COMPOST TO EAT!

Jekyll/Hyde

2010-03-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

It is spring "break" here in South. Why the quotes? Because it is NO KIND OF BREAK FOR ME. For one, I don't get to go teach my lab. Two, my dad/our nanny is in freaking CABO, and three, there are kids EVERYWHERE. Most notably, at my house, because there is also NO PRESCHOOL.

Let's all imagine how it must feel to be three and have your entire schedule jolted by one hour without warning or explanation and then the next week take away ALL of your comfortable routine. No school, no church Mom Group, no grandpa time. Just you and your pissed off mother, twenty-four hours a day, for FIVE LONG DAYS.

Yesterday was trying. I was unprepared for a long shapeless day and wound up at Ikea after a tantrum and fight-filled morning (me included). We impulse bought a new bathroom rug, some sippy cups that looked like mice, and a collapsable play-tunnel because I was all "What the hell? It's cheaper than therapy!" It turned out to be pure genius, though. The play-tunnel amused them WITHOUT MY INTERVENTION for at least thirty minutes, until Wes tried to climb on top of it then had a mini-stroke when it would not support his weight like he wanted it to. Later, they had a hand flapping, stompy barefoot dance party on the new bathroom rug. Other than that it was pretty stormy. On the bright side I finally made time to email a girl at church to offer her any of my organs she liked in exchange for watching the little darlings during that long preschool-free stretch of time formerly known as summer "vacation." When Ryan came home there were cookies in the oven, no dinner to be found, and we were dancing in the living room to "Free to Be You and Me," which was turned up so loud he had to yell to be heard. My mental health, it is hanging on by a thread.

This morning, having learned my lesson about whiny, bored children yesterday, we headed out to the community center right after Ryan left for work. I ran on the elliptical for a while, then sat at a table and drank coffee while I leisurely perused my new Moosewood cookbook for a good recipe for dinner (I went with the vegetable ragout). Then we went to the basketball gym and the kids ran around chasing basketballs for twenty minutes or so.

Then it was off to the hippy grocery store with my hippy cookbook to buy some ingredients for my hippy meat-free dinner, and then to balance out all that good karma we popped into the Starbucks next door for some non-local drinks in disposable cups. Mmm delicious non-local, tree-hating vanilla latte. On the way home the kids wanted to see "the river" (a large creek running through our town that swells like crazy any time it rains, and it has been raining hard for about twelve hours), so we took the back way home, a windy drive next to the river through the woods. So peaceful and pleasant. A great morning, I thought, yesterday must have been a fluke!

After a lunch of peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwiches, Wes went down for a nap. I started washing yesterday's dinner dishes when Charlie asked me to help him find a brown crayon. I told him I had to finish the dishes first and he LOST IT. Screaming, crying, snot dripping down his chin, throwing crayons, ripping all the cushions off the couch. I tried holding him wrapped up in a quilt, thinking he might just need a little attention, but he kept screaming and kicking me, so I took him to his room and put him to bed. He screamed for another twenty minutes while I sat next to his closed door, but finally quieted down. I checked him later and he was asleep in his chair.

Friday is a LONG way off, friends.

That's what I like about Texas

2010-03-14T20:25:00.000-07:00

I just checked my camera for the new pictures and DUDE! Did you know it snowed here recently? Because it was in the seventies all weekend. I must have had a raging case of the Seasonal Affective Disorder because I feel better than I have felt in WEEKS.

Or maybe it is just that my kids are almost over the disgusting cold that had us out of all organized activities all week. OMG.

Whatever the case, we only came inside to use the potty and sleep this weekend. I just swept most of my back yard off of the kitchen floor and after I write this I should probably go mop the route from the back door to the bathroom because it looks like a herd of bunnies ran through there.

By the way, I forgot how hard kids sleep when they've been exposed to a moderate amount of fresh air and sunlight.

It all started on Thursday when I dug up part of our yard and put in the garden seen in my last post. Saturday we finished it off with weed cloth, mulch, a trellis, and some climbing vines with pretty yellow flowers.

Saturday morning started with a trip to Home Depot. It was a very big hit once we snagged the race car cart in the parking lot.

Sometimes we like to do silly things to see if the kids will mimic us.

Then we came home and spread out all the mulch and dug this huge hole for the tree we were going to buy. (It got huger than this)

Then Ryan left to go get the tree and the boys had some good natured brotherly fun with the hose. I pulled some more weeds. I've now got a three-foot mound inside a plastic baby pool and think I might be getting close to calling it good.

Ryan came back with an oak tree and Sonic drinks for everyone.

I heart "watermelon" slushes! Also, HFCS!

Ryan finished digging the hole while Wes and I walked to the grocery store for dinner stuff (we were both covered in mud. I was also sweaty. It was hawt. I ran into my friend's husband. My friend who is very pretty and I am sure does not go to the grocery store looking like she's been involved in a shipwreck.).

Then I made dinner and dessert and our niece came over for a slumber party. She and Wes had pillowtalk before bed. It was quite adorable.

Today we went out for breakfast tacos, Ryan took the boys on a bike ride, and I got to go to the nursery and bookstore then topped it off with grocery shopping ALL BY MYSELF.

It's never good when only one kid is laughing hysterically

2010-03-13T15:20:00.000-08:00

Hey, I've got a GREAT GAME!

First, you act like a really awesome big brother and let the little kid hold the hose. Wow, I'm a really great guy for sharing the hose.

Then, you secretly turn off the water, as if by magic.

And then when the little brother gets the hose nice and close to his face to see why the magical stream of water has disappeared, you LET HIM HAVE IT.

Another Cooking Post (ish)

2010-03-10T08:25:00.000-08:00

A long time ago my friend Maribel made a Feast for our grad school friend group. Believe me, this Feast more than deserves proper noun status. She made watermelon juice to drink for goodness sake! And she made a brisket in the crock pot. And served it with warm tortillas, sour cream, and cilantro. So simple, yet one of my top three meals of all time.

I asked her for the recipe and she said "Oh, you just put the brisket in the crock pot and cook it!" It cannot be that simple, I thought, so I will not even try.

But last night I went to the memorial service of the mother of a dear friend of our family's. She was born in Poland before the war and, after a very interesting but tragic series of events related to World War II, ended up in Buffalo, New York with her two little girls. It was a happy and informal service, filled with wine and touching stories about how Maria touched each one of us.

Much was said about the Old World European habits she retained even after decades in the US. Her daughter, our friend, has invited us to her traditional Christmas Eve feast with borcht, perogies, fish, and homemade lemon vodka every year going back to when I was in high school and I've always enjoyed it. Last night, the memorial made me think anew about tradition and heritage and how it provides a comforting structure to the year, especially for children. I grew up with a typical array of middle class American family traditions-- hunting Easter Eggs, Santa, summer vacations in New England, donuts on Saturdays-- but I've always been interested in the traditions of families with stronger ties to their ethnic roots.

So, tonight, I decided to make the brisket in honor of Maria's life in Upstate New York, and as a means of starting some new traditions in our family. Since we live in Texas, though, I will be serving it like Maribel did, with fresh, warm tortillas, sour cream, and cilantro. As Labmama said, "Texas IS an ethnicity!"

I felt a little silly saying to the butcher "I need a brisket." Like I should be wearing a dress--belted at the waist--knee highs, and sensible shoes and carrying a large purse on my forearm. And like I should be dickering over the price with him (the large ones were $1.88/pound, but since I didn't need fourteen pounds of meat, and needed it to fit in my crock pot, I had to get one of the smaller ones, which were $3.44/pound. What the H?).

The recipe was as simple as Maribel said. Put the meat in the crock pot and turn it on. Awesome. Although I am sure ladies of generations past didn't use forks to carefully maneuver the meat from the package to the crock pot. They probably used their hands. And they probably didn't get totally grossed out by the sight of such an enormous piece of raw meat, either. Clearly I have a lot to learn if I am going to be as cool as my grandmothers.

I left it cooking and the boys and I went out for an hour's walk around the neighborhood with Labmama. When we returned, the house smelled AMAZING. So my last tip is this: If you cook brisket in the crock pot, remove all junk food from the house. Because the delicious smell will give you a SERIOUS case of the munchies. Just ask the pan of brownies I made last night for the memorial but couldn't take because they were too stuck in the pan.

I think I will roast some potatoes later on to go with the tacos. Then sit up straight and cross my legs at the ankles.

Coming home was still the best part.

2010-03-07T17:30:00.000-08:00

Ryan and I went out for a fancy dinner Friday night to celebrate our anniversary. The restaurant was very nice, with white tablecloths, candles on the tables, and not one stolen road sign on the wall.

The lady beside us offered to take our picture when she saw Ryan trying to take a picture of my chicken, which was covered in a lot of different vegetables I couldn't identify in the low light and a buttery sauce. It was unbelievable. Also pictured, a glass of wine I could have swam in. When I ordered it I said to the waiter "I'd like a glass of the...the... Beau--this one" then pointed at it on the menu. He helpfully asked someone how to pronounce the name of the vineyard then told me next time he came to the table. Next time I'll be ordering the "house red" thankyouverymuch.

My fancy goin-out outfit, sans hooker makeup.

The second time I embarrassed myself in front of the waiter was when I thought the word "ostrich" in the name of my entree was a cute little theme-y thing. After all, all the entrees in that section had a funny animal name. Elk, bison, duck. Wait a minute. So glad I asked. I settled on a perfectly safe chicken entree and was very pleased with it. Very, very pleased. Also pleased that I was not eating a six-foot tall flightless bird.

When we were finished eating I checked the time and was utterly shocked to learn that we had twenty minutes to get the check, pay, and get to the musical. Time flies when you're not trying to contain chaos.

Our seats for the musical were okay I guess.

That is my view of the stage from my seat. My FREE seat that I got with my faculty ID. There was a startling moment in the opening scene where one of the actors was singing angrily right at me about eighteen inches from my face. It was awesome. Other than some annoying guy behind us repeatedly yelling at a girl across the stage deemed "totally hot" by he and his friends "HEY! YOU'RE IN MY ASTRONOMY CLASS! WE MEASURED A PLANET TOGETHER!" then waving his phone around and wiggling his thumbs in a "text me" signal, I'm assuming. After about five confusing minutes of this back and forth he figured out he had the wrong girl, but he and his friends once again concurred that "She's still hot, dude." I was so glad they calmed down when the lights went off.

We laughed uproariously through the whole first act and when the lights came up for intermission we looked around like "What? No! More! I want more!" I stayed in our seats and enjoyed more scintillating conversation from Mr. Astronomy and his friends. Ryan went to the men's room where everyone was joking around "Pee for free! Pee for free!" Then he came back and we enjoyed the second act even more.

I thought about going out for dessert after but it was ten thirty and we had to get home before I fell asleep.

The next day Ryan went out and got us all doughnuts.

and then presented me with the professional portraits of the boys he had done secretly a month ago (HOW I do not know!). Happy anniversary, Ryan, and many more!

I wanted to look like an adult, not an adult film star

2010-03-06T14:38:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I had a few extra minutes before my office hours, so I ran into Sephora on the way to school to get some lip gloss and blush so I could look like an adult for our big fancy anniversary date that night. A lady in a hot pink wig directed me to a kiosk of various types of makeup, including about fourteen different items falling into the lip gloss category. I was in a hurry, so didn't pay very close attention to what I was doing when I grabbed a couple of things that looked good, paid, and left.

In the car I flipped down my visor and tried out my new lip whatever-it-was.

And it was DARK PINK HOOKER LIPSTICK.

OMG. I have office hours in TEN MINUTES.

I frantically dug around in the back seat for a wipe, a napkin, or something, ANYTHING, to get it off. Found a crusty Starbuck's napkin under Charlie's car seat, spit all over it, and wiped the heck out of my mouth to get it off. Most of it came off. MOST of it. And my lips were extra red from all the rubbing.

And then after class I thought, "maybe I just didn't do it right. Now that I have more time, I'll give it another try." You can probably imagine how that went.

I'm sticking with my Burt's chapstick from now on.

And now I start sentences "When I was in grad school..." like a giant jerk

2010-03-02T20:10:00.000-08:00

Just like childbirth, you get through your defense, spend a few miserable months bumping around trying to figure out what your new life is going to look like, and then BAM, it's a year later and you're really really glad you stuck it out and didn't follow through on all those threats to take your dissertation to Nebraska and leave it at the fire station.

Ryan reminded me tonight that it was this time last year that all hell broke loose with my dissertation. I remember sitting in the big chair in our bedroom, furiously redoing all my figures (after furiously redoing all my data) for an entire day and into the night, long after Ryan went to bed, then finally going to bed at 3:30 only to have Wes wake up to eat minutes later. Then I got up at 7:00 FOR THE DAY.

I guess that last part is why Ryan remembers it and I do not. Maybe (probably) it's because he was woken repeatedly by me smacking the keyboard and swearing like a crazy person on a bus.

Here's the post I wrote this day last year. I wish I could have told myself then that I would have the job of my dreams just a year later. And that I really would LIKE hanging around with my kids!

March 6 of last year was my defense date and our fifth wedding anniversary. I think Saturday's plans to eat a fancy dinner and see a musical are a much more fitting tribute to our happy life together, don't you?

And here is what my kids looked like last year. If you need me, I'll just be over here eating those little feet.

Stuck

2010-03-01T18:57:00.000-08:00

I had this great post all written in my head about how much self-control it took not to haul off and yell at this little unsupervised b-r-a-t kid at the library who screamed in my kids' faces because they were playing in the reading bathtub and she for some reason thought it was HER reading bathtub and chose to express herself by screaming angrily in the face of a one-year-old child. And about how much more self control it took not to yell at her dad who arrived on scene minutes later to find me consoling my two terrified children while his sweet little angel loomed over me and told ME that it was HER bathtub and then responded by saying what amounted to "Huh" then walked back into the Juniors Easy Reading section as his adorable little precious yelled unprovoked at an adult stranger.

But then I locked myself out of my farking car.

After spending two and a half gleefully well-behaved hours out in public, I sensed that we needed to get to a private location, pronto, before the dearies succumbed to their natural impulses. I calmly and patiently led Charlie through the process of putting all the toys away at the coffee shop despite his preference for lying on the floor moaning about not wanting to go home. Based on experience I figured I had about thirty minutes until blast off, which would give me just enough time to do our weekly shopping at the grocery store on the way home. I paid for our order, chatted briefly with the owner of the store, and began digging through my purse for my keys. They were not there.

Instead they were inside the back of my car. My locked car. Sooo helpful.

I lugged everyone back into the coffee shop then sat on the couch in defeat, Ryan's voicemail in my ear, a maniacal Charlie upside-down across my lap with his foot on my shoulder. I declined to leave a message and called back. He excused himself from a meeting, expecting some kind of emergency and instead got his borderline hysterical wife jabbering on about the keys being locked in the freaking car and being trapped out in public with the Over-Stimulated Brothers. Please HELP.

He said he would have to finish the meeting but would come as soon as he could.

Naturally I called Labmama so I could complain about my rotten luck with someone else who gets it. We devised several intricate plans to get me back to my house; Most involved her having decided several months ago to buy a car with a third row and several involved me being smart enough to have given her a copy of my house and car key for this very reason.

Long story short, an hour and fifteen minutes later Ryan and I were each carrying an hysterical child out of the library. The boys and I went home and Ryan went back to work. Wes took a nap that ended just about the time he normally goes to bed. And we never made it to the grocery store and ate scrambled eggs for dinner. First item on tomorrow's to-do list? Make copies of keys. Give to neighbors.

I feel like a teenager again! (not in a good way)

2010-02-27T21:42:00.000-08:00

The Appalachian Mountains have set up permanent residence on my face. You are welcome for that imagery.

It all started a few months ago when our normally enviable winter weather turned into the less enviable "Buffalo in Springtime" weather of the never-ending cold and rain and my normally average combination skin turned into freakazoid teenage hormones from hell skin.

So, I thought, since I am almost an age that rhymes with purdy, I should probably step up my skincare routine anyway. It would sure be great if I could get rid of my little forehead problem along the way.

My old routine included washing with Dove in the morning and remembering sunscreen and moisturizer almost never. I blame my previously trouble-free skin and resulting shocking lack of skincare knowledge on the hormone therapy I was on for seven thousand years called "pregnancy and breastfeeding."

For my new routine I started diligently washing my face with Cetaphil morning and night and following with the base Olay moisturizer. DID NOT WORK. NOT AT ALL.

Someone suggested using "Purpose" cleanser, so I shelled out another nine dollars and gave it a shot. And it WORKED. Dove in the morning followed by moisturizer, Purpose at night followed by moisturizer. Happy pores! Happy little pores! My skin looked better than it has in a while!

Then I let a dermatologist shame me into adding sunscreen to my regimen and switched from the pink Olay to the yellow Olay Complete.

Do you know how sunscreen works? It makes you break out so bad you swear you'll never leaving the house again. Try getting a sunburn inside your house with all the shades drawn! No sunburn, eh? Sunscreen is working!

Only, I have places to go and many normal-looking adults to see.

So tonight I decided to throw a little money at the problem again and see what I came up with.

Sarah has been researching the chemicals in beauty products and switching her whole family over to the less chemical-laden options. Although I admire that goal, I want you to know that I am willing to make a paste made of gasoline and high fructose corn syrup and smear it all over my body if it will make me look normal again.

Tonight I went to the skincare aisle at the grocery store, threw four or five products designed for this very problem into my basket, grabbed some tortilla chips and cookies, handed over my credit card, and left.

At home I ran up the stairs, my grocery bag bulging with the best mid-priced skincare products chemistry has to offer. Ryan called out "Maybe you should only change one thing at a time... well, nevermind."

Then I blasted the hell out of those suckers. I am promised they will be gone in the morning and will not return. I'll let you know how it goes.

The phone call I've been dreading since June of last year

2010-02-26T09:19:00.000-08:00

"Hello?"

"Hello, Becca. This is Miss Bluebird (the nicest woman in the whole world), calling from Charlie's school?"

Oh geez, who did he puke on? I'll be there in ten minutes.

"Yes, hello."

"I'm calling about Vacation Bible School."

Run. RUUUUUNNNNN. RUN FAST. GET AWAY! Visions of thirteen three-year-olds breaking into a dead run as we walked to music class. Visions of a small child throwing up Play Doh onto a desk. Of getting head butted soundly in the bladder. Three times.

Shoot, I see this woman almost every day. She definitely knows I wasn't paralyzed in a skiing accident, knows I'm not pregnant, missing a limb, psychotic, adopting quintuplets out of a crack den in the city or in jail. Think, think, think--

"I was wondering if you would be interested in a coordinator role. You would have to advise and coordinate the preschool teachers, but you wouldn't get to be in the classroom with any children."

"ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY!!!!!"

"I'm sorry?"

"What? Oh, I said 'That sounds interesting, tell me more about it.'"

"Well, you would be helping the teachers get organized and get their classrooms set up. You would need to come to a few meetings ahead of time to get everything ready."

"Great, sign me up!"

"Oh, ok, great! I just wanted to stress that there will be a little bit of extra work outside of camp hours and a few meetings this spring..."

"Whatever you want! No kids, right? Because I, uh, don't really find teaching that many three-year-olds to be one of my strengths. Last year I was a little, uh, overwhelmed. Hoo boy." Nervous giggle.

"I actually find I enjoy the coordinating roles more than I did teaching."

"BOY HOWDY!!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, nothing. So, great! I better get going, but I would be happy to be preschool coordinator, Thanks for thinking of me."

"Thank you! Goodbye!"

Heh heh

2010-02-25T17:25:00.000-08:00

"Wes, can you say 'Wes?'"

"WEFF!"

"Can you say 'Yes'?"

"YES!"

"Say 'Yes'!"

"YES!"

"Say 'Yes'!"

"YES!"

"Now, can you say 'Wes'?"

"WEFF!"

Information that would have been useful TWO HOURS AGO!

2010-02-23T19:40:00.000-08:00

Last night when I went to bed at 12:30 after finishing all my lab grading and half the reading homework for our finance class I was eagerly anticipating waking up to a winter wonderland in the morning. We did have a ninety-percent chance of snow after all and I was told that the magic was supposed to start at three in the morning.

Imagine my disappointment when I heard rain on the roof at six. No kids were awake so I threw an extra blanket on the bed and went back to sleep.

I got up at seven to learn that it wasn't rain at all but SLEET! The roof of the porch, which is outside one of the upstairs windows, was covered in ice! Hurray! No school!

We dressed the troops and had breakfast and everyone gave Ryan two kisses goodbye and he left with the admonition that if he had a car accident and broke his leg he'd still be responsible for bedtime and half the baths every week so he'd better be really freaking careful on the slushy roads. I settled into my morning routine of hiding from the boys long enough to drink my coffee and throw on some clean underpants. Around nine I looked out the window and it was SNOWING. ACTUAL SNOW.

We have had a LOT of rain this winter. And, as you know, I have done a LOT of complaining about it. There's not much you can do with cold rain besides stay inside the house and try not to commit any felonies. But SNOW! Snow has possibilities. I rounded up all of our winter accessories and managed to get everyone sufficiently swaddled in enough layers of fleece that I thought we could be out for several minutes without risking hypothermia then we all ran outside.

We went for a short walk around the culdesac before Wes had a nervous breakdown and had to be put to bed. Swaddled in a fleece blanket. A boy after my own heart.

Charlie opted for a cup of hot cocoa and a little recycling plant imaginative play while I furiously refreshed my school email hoping for a cancellation notice. When none came I made approximately forty-seven phone calls to Ryan, my dad, and Labmama to figure out what to do with the bebies while I went to teach in the afternoon. Ultimately we decided on a complex plan in which my dad would come over around noon, then take the kids to Labmama's if the conditions appeared to be worsening to the point that he was worried about getting home, and Ryan was to come home at 4:30 to relieve whoever had the kids at that point.

That settled, Wes woke up and we went back outside. Where the snow was coming down in fat flakes and sticking to the freaking road.

My dad arrived and I went up to school with no trouble. Another professor and I discussed the week's lab activities and I had just sat down in my office chair when a student came in all aflutter.

"So, the university is closing at 3:00, but lab starts at 2:30 soooo..."

What? I had been there for TEN MINUTES by this point.

The department chair came in and confirmed that lab was indeed cancelled due to weather and that I could go home. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Not that I minded, of course. No sir-ree bob! Especially because I did not have happy thoughts about the way this particular lab was going to go based on the conversation I'd had upon my arrival. But really? All that hassle over what amounted to an hour-long trip to work to check my email? Really?

So I taped a cute little note with a snowman on it to the door announcing the cancelled class, went home, happily, and spent the rest of the day marvelling at the snow through little boys' eyes.

And I'm not going to lie to you, I'm pretty psyched about the forecast high of sixty-seven degrees on Saturday.

I can't put my arms down!

2010-02-23T08:15:00.000-08:00

It is SNOWING. Seriously, snowing. These were taken just after it started and it has been going strong for hours. Once all our stuff dries off we'll be back at it, I'm sure.

Our winter family fun time ended with Wes, soaking wet, howling in the downward dog position in the foyer. I put him in dry clothes, swaddled him, and put him to bed where he promptly fell asleep. Charlie chugged a hot chocolate and now it's time for the Olympics and Legos.

I think we will call him "Charles" now

2010-02-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

Charlie and I went on a date last night.

We got all dressed up.

Which means we crammed Charlie into an oxford and tie and told him how handsome and grown up he looked. He told us "this thing makes my neck hurt." Ryan told him that ties are supposed to hurt, he better get used to it now. But the last of his remaining baby-chub was making the collar awfully tight, so we settled for undoing his top button and letting him wear his tie a little loose, working-late-style.

The concert was at my school, a joint performance of the university string ensemble and the local civic orchestra with a special performance by a famous clarinettist. I got in for free with my ID, so I took Charlie figuring if it was a disaster we could simply leave early, much to the relief of the people around us. After all, it started at 7:30 and Charlie usually goes to bed at 7:00. He was fast asleep when we pulled into the parking lot just before 7:00 so I draped him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and hauled him into the concert hall still half-asleep. A box of raisins perked him right back up.

I was a little worried about his behavior, but friends? He was AMAZING.

We passed the time before it started by making faces at the camera. The nice woman in front of us kept telling me when she saw me with the camera "He's making a funny face." She was super helpful.

Charlie sat silently perched on my lap for the entire first piece, several songs done by a small wind ensemble, then moved back to his own seat for the second one, which featured the full orchestra. During the second piece he leaned over and whispered "It's so beautiful!" The second piece was composed of five or six different movements and Charlie sat quietly through the whole thing. The only thing he said was when he whispered to me "When I'm an adult can I play an instrument up there? And will you come and sit here and watch me?" I assured him that I would.

He started getting squirmy near intermission so when we got out into the hall I asked him if he'd rather stay for more music or go home. He wanted to go home. I was having such a good time with him, though, that I suggested we cap the evening off with a slice of pie at a restaurant. On the way there I let him call Ryan and tell him breathlessly about the "beautiful music and all the beautiful instruments and they were loud and great and beautiful and one day I'm gonna play a TROMBONE and you and Mama and Wes can come watch me play and we're going to go get PIE and will you and Wes come meet us when Wes wakes up, please, Papa? I got to see INSTRUMENTS!"

When our waiter introduced himself Charlie replied "Hi! I'm Charlie and I'd like chocolate pie, please!" We were quite excited about the pie.

And he had earned it a thousand times over.

He was nearly asleep when we pulled into the garage, but he had to tell Ryan about the INSTRUMENTS again. When Ryan put him down in the kitchen he ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, picked up his washcloth and started washing his face. When he was done he brushed his teeth. All without us saying a word!

It was a very memorable night. Worth him totally falling apart at church today, after the clock struck twelve and he turned back into a three-year-old.

This kid?

2010-02-18T13:35:00.000-08:00

Is killing me with the cuteness right now.

He is so cool I can barely stand it. He is currently doing a science experiment in the bathroom sink while Wes naps. We just finished baking snickerdoodles together. Before that he asked if we could vaccuum the living room floor together. Before that I showed him pictures of the ocean on the computer and he laid his had back against my shoulder and said "I love you, Mama."

We've been working hard on only taking what you need and not being wasteful (particularly when it involves paper towels in public restrooms and free pretzel samples at the grocery store). Yesterday at the grocery store I needed three jars of spaghetti sauce because I was making two lasagnas (one for me and one for Ryan. Kidding. I gave one to a friend). I picked up the first one and put it in the cart. When I reached for the second one Charlie said, very firmly, "No, Mama, you need ONE." When I continued to pick up the second jar he ran over to me and put his hand on my hip. "ONE Mama! Take ONE. Only take ONE!" I could barely contain my giggles as I put a THIRD into the cart. He regarded me suspiciously for the remainder of the shopping trip.

When Wes is freaking out about some perceived slight (which happens many, MANY times a day recently), Charlie sits quietly next to him and pats his tummy softly. Sometimes he brings a toy he thinks Wes will like.

We borrowed a video called "Charlie Trash Truck" from the library and Charlie knows every second of it. He has since constructed a recycling plant under a chair in our living room. He gathers recyclables (Legos, buttons, string), from other parts of the house in his toy recycle truck, drives them to "the plant," then dumps them out and uses a Lego bulldozer to push them under the chair. He can do this for hours.

Today it was time to go to church for my mom club and I heard crazed cackling coming from the living room. When I went to investigate I found Charlie sitting on the floor with no shirt on, SO proud of his little prank.

Later, Labmama and I walked to the grocery store with all the kids in the strollers. We took the long way home and let Charlie and her son run ahead on the sidewalk. They must have run a mile and were all pink cheeked and breathless when it was time to get back on the trail to our houses. Charlie stopped walking and when I turned to see what was bothering him he said "My feet hurt." Upon inspection, I realized his shoes were on the wrong feet AND the tongues were all pushed in around his toes. I put them on correctly and he bounced down the trail yelling "That's MUCH better!!" Goofball.

Finally, last one I SWEAR, for the last two weeks he's been asking me to play "the lobster song" in the car. "The lobster song, Mama! The lobster one! The one with the lobster!" As you can imagine, I didn't have an everloving clue what he was talking about. Finally, today, I said "Charlie, I don't know where to get the lobster song, I am sorry. Want to listen to the radio instead?" He moaned "I want the LOBSTER SONG! IT'S ON THE RED CD FROM THE LIIIIBBRAAAARRRY!" So I put the red "Only Broadway CD You'll Ever Need" CD from the library in and randomly selected track 2, "Anything Goes." He LIT the hell UP. And then, I understood. Tap dancing. The freaking TAP DANCING. Make a lobster claw with your hand. Now tap your "claws" together. Now imagine how that would sound. That is how a lobster "sings" ladies and gentlemen.

Hell Hath no Fury

2010-02-15T07:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we stepped out of the door of our church and stood squinting and dumbfounded in the bright sunlight. What is this? Is the plague of floods over? I wasn't wearing a coat or tights and I was comfortably warm. Charlie was ebullient. He ran and jumped around the little courtyard yelling "THE SUN MADE IT WARM!! THE SUN MADE IT WARM!"

We raced home, shoved some food into his face (Wes slept through all of this), ripped off his church clothes, threw on some shorts and a long sleeved shirt, and shoved him out the front door. Who knew how long it would last?

Charlie and Ryan went on a lovely bike ride around the neighborhood, I opened all the windows and read a magazine on the porch with a cup of coffee. So buoyed were my spirits I was even motivated to fold a load of laundry, all the while humming and enjoying the fresh air coming through the windows.

The boys came back and we all ran into the back yard for soccer! and basketball! and climbing! and swinging! and OMG SUN!!

After about an hour in the yard the sky went black and the wind started howling through the neighborhood, leaving no barbeque grill standing. Seriously, like thirty-five mile per hour gusts. And the wind brought cold, COLD air.

Charlie stood on the porch, crushed and screaming. "I DON'T LOVE THE WIND! I DON'T LOVE IT! I WANT IT TO BE WARM!!"

Every toy that went tumbling past the porch sent him into hysterics. He was terrified to get off the porch to help me round up the toys and instead stood screaming in horror as the wind whipped his pool noodle, his tricycle, and assorted gardening tools all over the yard and I frantically tried to corral everything into the big box we keep on the porch for this very occasion.

Then the wind picked up last summer's plastic baby pool and slung it across the porch. It hit the house with a loud BANG. Charlie nearly had a stroke. I grabbed him, still screaming, and put him in the house, then finished putting the toys away so one of them didn't break a window.

When I checked the thermometer I noted that the temperature had gone from a toasty sixty-eight degrees to forty-five degrees in a matter of fifteen minutes.

Charlie was still screaming "WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR NICE WEATHER? I WANT IT TO BE WARM!" when we strapped him and (now awake and confused) Wes into the car to go out for Valentine's cupcakes. He screamed incoherently all the way out of the neighborhood then fell asleep abruptly just before we arrived at the cupcake place.

I ran inside, ordered our cupcakes, and had them ready at the table before Ryan brought the kids in. Charlie wolfed down his chocolate cupcake, took a deep breath, and said to me sadly "What happened to our nice weather?"

Today it is once again too cold to play outside, so we have been forced to be creative.

Yawn...

2010-02-11T12:07:00.000-08:00

I got up a couple of hours early this morning to drive my friend Labmama to the airport. What followed was an amusing comedy of errors where we both got COMPLETELY LOST in long-term parking trying to find her husband's car so we could get one of the car seats out of it. After the second time we dead-ended in a very Homeland Security Code Orange looking place she said "Forget it. I can get another car seat for $50." I thought it was kind of funny that we kept driving by the place where they gas up the planes, for example, but I kept it to myself because LM was a little stressed by the whole missing a plane, flying into the (second) Great Blizzard of 2010 possibility. All was well in the end, though. They made their flight and I stopped on the way home to buy breakfast tacos for the family (courtesy of LM) then attempted to get a half hour nap in before it was time for Ryan to go to work. Ryan set Charlie up at the table with his bean and egg taco then came upstairs to take a shower. As soon as he turned on the water Charlie started screaming up the stairs that he needed help opening the back door so Rossby could go potty.

Anyway, all this to say that I am rather tired and think that if I have one more cup of coffee, the next time someone makes a sudden noise, my head might lift right off my body like an Apollo rocket. And there is no more grating sound than Legos crashing against the side of a Rubbermaid tub, am I right? Yay for everyone!

Good news, though, we are almost done with the making of the Valentines for Charlie's class party, which is tomorrow. I have not yet finished (or begun) the eight heart shaped sugar cookies I promised to bring. I also have a whole stack of labs to grade tonight. Freaking awesome planning if you ask me!

For Charlie's cards we (I) cut hearts out of pretty pink fabric (chosen by Charlie, lover of all things pink) with pinking shears and then glued them to construction paper cards.

Then we (I) wrote a heartfelt message in each one and Charlie finished them off with a personal message in sparkly glitter glue (that's the wiggly line under the word "day." He made a freaking awesome smiley face on his teacher's card, though. He's so going to be "that kid.").

And finally, apropos of nothing, here is a picture of the neat sunrise we had the other day (that I got to watch courtesy of Charlie's early-morning potty sing-a-long). That vertical shaft of light was much brighter a few minutes before I took the picture but I was too busy staring at it with my mouth open, clutching my bathrobe around my body and muttering about the cold then to think maybe I should get my camera and put a picture of it on my blog so all my meteorology friends can tell me what caused it. It was like an upside down crepuscular ray. Way cool.

El Nino WILL NOT BE MOCKED

2010-02-08T07:45:00.000-08:00

You like apples? How d'ya like DEM apples!

Les bons temps

2010-02-07T18:48:00.000-08:00

I have no legitimate claim to being a Saints fan, but you know, the Superbowl rolls around and for the sake of party planning you pick a side. We decided to be Saints fans.

Partly because of a brief internship I did in Baton Rouge several years ago. Mostly because of the food.

And also because dressing my kids up like drunken Mardi Gras revelers amuses me.

We all got into the spirit.

I declared dough kneading to be my fifteen minute workout for the day.

When he saw me trying to chop onions with my eyes closed, Ryan said he would take over for the second one, then disappeared to the garage and returned with a pair of souvenir "Ford" safety goggles he got on a field project.

When they sang the National Anthem on TV Charlie ran and got our flag out of the coat closet then stood in front of the TV and waved it so fiercely he almost impaled Wes with the eagle on top. Proud little American.

Labmama and her family came over for jambalaya and King Cake before the game. Because the game was on too late for the kids. I live in the CENTRAL TIME ZONE, friends. Charlie was asleep by 6:30. Wes wasn't far behind. I got all my labs graded during the third quarter, watched the Saints wrap it up in the fourth, and still have an hour or so before I turn back into a pumpkin. A pretty good Sunday night, I'd say!

Spanish for "The Nino"

2010-02-04T17:33:00.000-08:00

It has been raining for SIX YEARS.

We ran out of activities days ago. A situation which came to a head yesterday evening when the kids started flinging spoonfuls of yogurt at each other and I barely glanced up from my email before shrugging my shoulders, relieved that at least they were happy and not fighting.

Then they spent an hour taking a bubble bath.

Today the forecast promised drier weather and temperatures in the fifties by the afternoon. I foolishly told Charlie that we would get to go outside and play in the afternoon. He briefly stopped scratching tally marks into the living room wall with a sharpened baby carrot and smiled.

As it turns out, when I said "play outside" I meant "run from the car to the grocery store with your coat over your head while your mother mutters swear words under her breath about the El Nino."

Over the summer when I read that El Nino would bring us a cooler and wetter winter than average, I was thrilled! We had NO RAIN all summer. And all spring for that matter. No rain! And I was really missing the seasonal changes of our old town. So a cooler and wetter winter? Bring it on! I'll make soup! I'll bake! It will be so cozy and special.

It is not cozy and special. It is like being locked in a shipping container with two golden retrievers on Red Bull.

We've done playdoh, we've done Legos, we've done TV (OH SO MUCH TEEVEEEE), we've had an escalating civil war over the two square feet of carpet immediately in front of the TV, we've made art out of cotton balls, we've baked muffins, we've made stew, we've fallen off the coffee table in front of the window in the playroom after what I can only assume was a last ditch effort to not succumb to a lethal Vitamin D deficiency. We've played nine-thousand games of pig pile, taught Charlie "Go Fish," built forts, and let Wes do pretty much anything he wants that doesn't involve electricity or alcohol.

We've also been consuming more caffeine than has been deemed safe by the FDA. And by "we" I mean "me" because no matter how early Charlie gets up to sit on the potty and sing "Jesus Loves Me" at the top of his lungs, it never seems to put even the smallest dent in his boundless energy.

And now Ryan and I are GChatting the word "poop" back and forth to each other from our respective couches. It's time for the weather to start acting like Texas, is all I'm saying.

Again with the awesome wife business

2010-02-03T08:36:00.001-08:00

Man, the "for worse" part is really being tested this week!

First it was hallucinating sleeping seven hours late in the middle of the night two nights ago and today it was an angry phone call about missing keys five minutes after he walked into his lab. And then a probably exasperating walk back to the car in the rain and then getting almost all the way home with the extra key before another, very sheepish phone call alerting him that I had found the wayward keys. And that they were in my purse.

It all started after I got both kids buckled into their seats in the car in the garage all bundled up and ready for school (Charlie's school. No matter how badly he and I both want him to go to school with Charlie they won't let Wes go until next year). I dashed back into the kitchen to grab my purse and reached inside to get my keys all the while musing whether I felt more like a breakfast taco or a latte and donut for my midmorning snack. But the keys were nowhere to be found.

I looked again. I took everything out. I searched the kitchen counter, the only other place I ever put them when I come inside because it is out of reach of the children. No keys.

I turned my purse upside down and shook it. Nothing.

Remembering that I had seen my recyclable grocery bag, which is usually in my purse, on the floor of the laundry room, I surmised that some little hands had been messing around with my purse, which is a BIG NO NO. Now I was getting really annoyed.

I got on hands and knees and searched the whole laundry room, under the washer and dryer, IN THE BAG OF freaking DOG FOOD all the while making quite the angry spectacle of myself. Nothing.

I went to the car and asked in a less than patient, not at all nurturing voice if anyone had any idea where my keys might be. "Grandpa has them" said Charlie. "Why on earth would Grandpa take my keys???" I asked. He had no answer.

I called Ryan to ask if he had noticed them someplace weird in the house. He somehow managed to detect that I was angry and getting a little frantic at the prospect of losing another day of preschool (i.e. screwing around time for ME) this week. He asked if I had taken everything out of my bag. I HAD! I SHOOK IT OUT! NO KEYS! I wailed. He suggested he come home and bring me his set of keys. No no no, I said. Not necessary, I bleated out, not meaning it at all. He said he was on his way.

I crawled all over the living room floor feeling under couches and chairs. Found Thomas the Tank Engine, which has been missing for a week, a small victory, but no keys.

Finally, after I had searched the entire living room, laundry room, toy room, TV cabinet, dog food bag, under all appliances in the kitchen, I decided to look in my purse one more time.

I angrily jammed my hand inside and was feeling around when my hand slammed up against something hard and my car beeped at me from the garage.

Oh shit. OH SHIT!

They were in the side pocket. I didn't even know my purse HAD a side pocket. It is apparently a very secure side pocket as it somehow managed to hold my keys hostage despite a vigorous upside down shaking.

I called Ryan and explained that I had, uh, found my keys, in my purse. Heh heh heh. See you tonight! Love ya!

I took him a dozen donuts after I dropped Charlie off.

My Subconsious Fights Back

2010-02-02T07:01:00.000-08:00

My two work days are Tuesday and Friday. I teach the same course on both days, and there is a new lesson and lab each week. As a result Tuesdays have emerged as the stressful, not-fun day while Fridays are lots of competent, been-there-done-that, this-is-how-it's-supposed-to-be fun. Last week my Tuesday lab ran OVER the allotted time and my Friday lab ended an hour early. Good times.

I am also having some trouble fitting in planning time over the weekend. I don't need a lot, but I do need to relearn the material and plan a short lecture. That usually falls to Monday evening, which is fine because since our TV stopped picking up Fox I no longer have anything else to do Monday nights.

I didn't think I was too stressed out by this situation until I found myself standing in our bedroom at two o'clock this morning with all the lights on yelling at Ryan.

"GET UP!!!! GETUP GETUP GETUP GETUP! WE'RE LATE!!!"

"Wha? [unintelligible] What the hell?"

"IT'S TWO O'CLOCK!!!!! GET UP!! WE'RE LATE!!!"

"Bec, it's two o'clock IN THE MORNING. Please come back to bed."

"What? Oh. OK."

Clearly my exhausted mind hadn't stopped to consider that if it was indeed two o'clock in the afternoon I wouldn't have had to turn all the lights on.