I spent last Friday at work discovering just how much of an appalling mess our shelf list and card catalog are in. I spent literally all day trying to file cards and in general finding five cards to refile in the correct place for every one I filed initially. And now I get to figure out a way to diplomatically put the elderly volunteer who filed those cards out to pasture.
For those of you who are trying to dredge up from the dim recesses of your memories how card catalogs work, every book at minimum has three cards - author, title and shelf list, the shelf list being the list that reflects the order of books on, well, the shelf (there are also cards for each subject heading, and series, and artists, ad infinitum. Basically any way you would want to find a book, you need a card. But of course, since creating and filing cards takes time and space, you're always constrained by not wanting to create any more cards than necessary, even though since you can't do a keyword search, they're the only way you will find a book. Do you begin to see what a revolutionary thing the computerized catalog was?). But as I was going through the catalog, I would find all three cards shoved in together in the shelf list, so instead of being able to look up a book by its title or author to find out where it is on the shelf, you could only find a book by already knowing where it belongs on the shelf. This is... not helpful.
The volunteer who was doing such a creative filing job hasn't been in for the past six months, and while he was going to come in that day, we weren't expecting him to do any work. So when I mentioned to my manager that he shouldn't file cards any more, she said that it probably wouldn't be an issue. Instead, after catching up with my manager, he came over to me and asked if he should start filing some cards. Argh! I said something non-committal, and my manager asked him to help double-check her accounting with the petty cash, avoiding this issue for that week. But he's planning on coming in next week. Double argh.
Volunteers are a great thing for any cash-strapped organization. But the problem with them as opposed to a paid employee is that it's a lot harder to fire them for incompetence without feeling like an absolute heel. He's a sweet man, and I really don't know how to say that we don't want his help any more. I'm cravenly hoping that my manager will be the bad guy in this.
****
On a completely different topic, tonight's dinner (recipe courtesy of a Facebook friend) didn't taste exactly like the Zuppa Toscana at Olive Garden, but it was darn tasty, and surprisingly quick and easy. It helped that I've been trying to be better about meal planning recently, and doing things like making meals that can use the same ingredient more than once, so I can cut up a bunch of potatoes or cook up a bunch of chicken to use over a couple meals and have ingredients ready when I go to cook.
Note: this recipe makes a tankload of soup. I cut it in half and still had to use two pots when one was getting overfull. I would cut it down to about a third if you don't want leftovers for the next five years.
Ingredients:
3 (14 ounce) cans of chicken broth
9 cups water
3-5 pieces bacon
1 lb italian sausage, loose ground
4 large russet potatoes; skin on and cut into bite sized chunks
1 large white onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, crushed
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2/3 cup half-and-half
1/2-11/2 teaspoon salt (to taste)
1/2-1 Tablespoon black pepper (to taste)
1/2-1 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon mustard powder
2 cups kale leaves, chopped (optional)
Directions:
1. In a large stock pot combine the water, chicken broth, salt and potatoes and set to a low boil.
2. In a separate pan fry up the bacon until lightly crispy and set aside; save the bacon grease.
3. In the same pan used to cook the bacon add the Italian sausage, onion and olive oil and simmer on low until the sausage is browned and the consistency of hamburger.
4. Chop the bacon into small shreds and add to the cooked sausage, then add everything into the soup pot.
5. Mix the garlic, powders and half-and-half into the soup pot and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes.
6. 5 Minutes before serving mix in the chopped kale leaves.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tired snippets
* The combination of working both days this weekend, then having everyone home for MLK Day Monday has left me deeply confused about what day of the week it is. Not that I'm complaining - it was nice to be able to have a day off together after working all weekend, and the short week is an extra treat. But I'm drifting through the week never sure what today is - Tuesday? Wednesday? A week from next Friday? Who can tell at this point?
* After a dry December, a lot of our favorite shows are back - Chuck, Leverage, Burn Notice, White Collar and Psych. The alert will notice a certain similarity in all of those titles. I would say our appetite for hour-long spy/caper/mystery dramedies is completely sated for the moment.
* Speaking of caper/mysteries, we did manage to make it to a movie while we in Michigan, and saw Sherlock Holmes. We emjoyed it immensely, and not just because it was the first time we've been out together without a child since the night before Alec was born. It helped, of course, that Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law between them have 50 pounds of charisma in a five pound bag. It oozes out of their eyeballs, and they could make people enjoy watching them play Quaker Meeting. But the movie itself was pretty good. This is where I admit that I was never able to get into the Sherlock Holmes stories when I was younger. But I enjoyed watching a Holmes who was clearly flawed as well as brilliant, who showed the negative as well as positive sides of his genius.
* The other day, K brought a baby over to me and holding its hands behind its back, she asked me to tie them together. When I asked why, she said, "She's going to jail." Well. I tied the prisoner's hands good and tight. Far be it from me to stand in the way of the mighty hand of Justice.
*******
Last night was a poop in the bathtub kind of night, both literally and figuratively. It was the sort of night with two wailing children, two aggravated parents and a disgusting mess to clean up. It was a continuation K's ongoing poop issues, and I am sorry to report that we did not deal with it with the sort of patience and grace one would hope for. It wasn't really her fault, yet it was next to impossible not to take some of our frustration out on her. I wasn't terribly sympathetic to her tears, I said things that at the time were meant to point out the consequences of her actions but in hindsight were more like rubbing it in, and she didn't get a bedtime story, which wasn't consciously meant to be a punishment, but I'm sure it felt like it to her.
We all have evenings like that, and I'm sure there will be more. One of the things that I'm becoming more aware of as K gets older is that she's now old enough that she's going to be able to remember a lot of the things that are happening her. Six months later, she's still talking about the day the window shattered in the door, and I suspect it's going to be a lasting memory (a couple weeks ago, as we were going out the door, she patiently explained to me that I needed to be careful when I closed it). The window didn't shatter because I was angry and slammed the door. It was already cracked and I had my hand on the window as I closed the door, so I suspect it would have happened anyway. But I find myself wondering if K is going to remember it as the day Mommy got angry and smashed a window. It's a chastening thought.
But what can you do? Today, before I put K in the car after school, I asked her for a hug and apologized for having such a grumpy night last night, and that I know she doesn't have poop issues on purpose. I can hope that if she's going to remember the times I traumatize her, she'll remember these moments too.
* After a dry December, a lot of our favorite shows are back - Chuck, Leverage, Burn Notice, White Collar and Psych. The alert will notice a certain similarity in all of those titles. I would say our appetite for hour-long spy/caper/mystery dramedies is completely sated for the moment.
* Speaking of caper/mysteries, we did manage to make it to a movie while we in Michigan, and saw Sherlock Holmes. We emjoyed it immensely, and not just because it was the first time we've been out together without a child since the night before Alec was born. It helped, of course, that Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law between them have 50 pounds of charisma in a five pound bag. It oozes out of their eyeballs, and they could make people enjoy watching them play Quaker Meeting. But the movie itself was pretty good. This is where I admit that I was never able to get into the Sherlock Holmes stories when I was younger. But I enjoyed watching a Holmes who was clearly flawed as well as brilliant, who showed the negative as well as positive sides of his genius.
* The other day, K brought a baby over to me and holding its hands behind its back, she asked me to tie them together. When I asked why, she said, "She's going to jail." Well. I tied the prisoner's hands good and tight. Far be it from me to stand in the way of the mighty hand of Justice.
*******
Last night was a poop in the bathtub kind of night, both literally and figuratively. It was the sort of night with two wailing children, two aggravated parents and a disgusting mess to clean up. It was a continuation K's ongoing poop issues, and I am sorry to report that we did not deal with it with the sort of patience and grace one would hope for. It wasn't really her fault, yet it was next to impossible not to take some of our frustration out on her. I wasn't terribly sympathetic to her tears, I said things that at the time were meant to point out the consequences of her actions but in hindsight were more like rubbing it in, and she didn't get a bedtime story, which wasn't consciously meant to be a punishment, but I'm sure it felt like it to her.
We all have evenings like that, and I'm sure there will be more. One of the things that I'm becoming more aware of as K gets older is that she's now old enough that she's going to be able to remember a lot of the things that are happening her. Six months later, she's still talking about the day the window shattered in the door, and I suspect it's going to be a lasting memory (a couple weeks ago, as we were going out the door, she patiently explained to me that I needed to be careful when I closed it). The window didn't shatter because I was angry and slammed the door. It was already cracked and I had my hand on the window as I closed the door, so I suspect it would have happened anyway. But I find myself wondering if K is going to remember it as the day Mommy got angry and smashed a window. It's a chastening thought.
But what can you do? Today, before I put K in the car after school, I asked her for a hug and apologized for having such a grumpy night last night, and that I know she doesn't have poop issues on purpose. I can hope that if she's going to remember the times I traumatize her, she'll remember these moments too.
Friday, January 15, 2010
About a boy
I realized this week that I'm so late in posting Alec's six month update that it's almost time for the seven month update. I was waiting for his six month well baby appointment, which didn't happen until this week thanks to Christmas and our vacation. So here are a few notes until next week.
1. He is 27.25 inches tall, 21 pounds, 4 ounces, and has a head circumference of 18 inches. That's really quite large all around, maintaining his spot in the 90th percentile from two months ago. We don't really realize how big he is until we see him with other babies. On vacation, we met a five-month-old whom he dwarfed and a seven-month-old who was closer to his size, but still smaller than him despite being a month older.
It's a little odd when you have a big baby how people congratulate you as if it were your superior parenting that made him that big. Really, all we do is feed him, which is what any competent parent does. The rest is our obviously superior genes. :)
2. He started sitting on his own last month, but has really taken off with it this month, happily sitting for long periods without toppling over.
3. He has discovered the upper reaches of his vocal register, and the rest of us have lost approximately 25 percent of our hearing.
4. Aside from practicing his dog-summoning shrieks, his main form of communication these days is raspberries. He does them when he's cheerful and when he's annoyed. It's as if there wasn't enough saliva coming out of his mouth in drool, so he had to start spraying it around.
5. He's developing his pincer grip. Ask me how I know.*
6. We started solids this month, which he seems to be enjoying quite a bit. We're not being hugely consistent about giving them to him though, because I've discovered I'm just so bored with the spooning the pap into the baby and the bibs and the mess and the spitting. I just want to throw some food at him and let him feed himself. Sorry kid. That's life as a second child. However, he downed four ounces of pears mixed with oatmeal tonight, lunging and snapping at the spoon like a baby hawk, so I should probably work harder at getting him solids every day.
*He reminds me of an old Looney Tunes cartoon that was a guide to dog breeds. One segment went: "This is a doberman pinscher. And this is Doberman" Cue dog getting an evil grin on its face and making pinching motions as it walked off-screen, followed by a scream. Now imagine that with my nipples.
1. He is 27.25 inches tall, 21 pounds, 4 ounces, and has a head circumference of 18 inches. That's really quite large all around, maintaining his spot in the 90th percentile from two months ago. We don't really realize how big he is until we see him with other babies. On vacation, we met a five-month-old whom he dwarfed and a seven-month-old who was closer to his size, but still smaller than him despite being a month older.
It's a little odd when you have a big baby how people congratulate you as if it were your superior parenting that made him that big. Really, all we do is feed him, which is what any competent parent does. The rest is our obviously superior genes. :)
2. He started sitting on his own last month, but has really taken off with it this month, happily sitting for long periods without toppling over.
3. He has discovered the upper reaches of his vocal register, and the rest of us have lost approximately 25 percent of our hearing.
4. Aside from practicing his dog-summoning shrieks, his main form of communication these days is raspberries. He does them when he's cheerful and when he's annoyed. It's as if there wasn't enough saliva coming out of his mouth in drool, so he had to start spraying it around.
5. He's developing his pincer grip. Ask me how I know.*
6. We started solids this month, which he seems to be enjoying quite a bit. We're not being hugely consistent about giving them to him though, because I've discovered I'm just so bored with the spooning the pap into the baby and the bibs and the mess and the spitting. I just want to throw some food at him and let him feed himself. Sorry kid. That's life as a second child. However, he downed four ounces of pears mixed with oatmeal tonight, lunging and snapping at the spoon like a baby hawk, so I should probably work harder at getting him solids every day.
*He reminds me of an old Looney Tunes cartoon that was a guide to dog breeds. One segment went: "This is a doberman pinscher. And this is Doberman" Cue dog getting an evil grin on its face and making pinching motions as it walked off-screen, followed by a scream. Now imagine that with my nipples.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
About that Facebook meme
I got an e-mail yesterday morning, telling me to post my bra color into my Facebook status as a way to raise "awareness" for breast cancer. I use quotes because I didn't participate because I couldn't see how calling attention to my bra without actually including any information about breast cancer would raise awareness of it. I mean, posting my bra color with a link to the Susan G. Komen foundation website or suchlike would raise awareness. But just my bra color would raise awareness of, well, my bra.
In my web meanderings today, I found people who agreed with me for more or less the same reasons, and I was prepared to pretty much forget it as another stupid Facebook thing. And then I found a post by a breast cancer survivor explaining why it was a colossally insensitive to breast cancer survivors, the people it was ostensibly trying to help:
"Other cancer survivors joined in, telling me that they felt left out too. After all, this was ostensibly an effort to raise awareness of breast cancer — but one in which breast cancer survivors themselves could not participate, and were reminded (as if we needed a reminder) that we didn’t need bras anymore, that most basic undergarment of women everywhere, that symbol of sexuality, for the simple reason that we had already sacrificed our breasts in a hail mary attempt to keep the rest of our bodies from dying of cancer."
I know it's late to be posting this, since that meme was so yesterday. But if you were just getting the e-mail today, or didn't have time to post yesterday and were going to today, please don't. And maybe this should serve as a cautionary tale about how when well-meaning people try to help a cause, they should check with the people actually affected by it to find out if it would actually be helpful.
In my web meanderings today, I found people who agreed with me for more or less the same reasons, and I was prepared to pretty much forget it as another stupid Facebook thing. And then I found a post by a breast cancer survivor explaining why it was a colossally insensitive to breast cancer survivors, the people it was ostensibly trying to help:
"Other cancer survivors joined in, telling me that they felt left out too. After all, this was ostensibly an effort to raise awareness of breast cancer — but one in which breast cancer survivors themselves could not participate, and were reminded (as if we needed a reminder) that we didn’t need bras anymore, that most basic undergarment of women everywhere, that symbol of sexuality, for the simple reason that we had already sacrificed our breasts in a hail mary attempt to keep the rest of our bodies from dying of cancer."
I know it's late to be posting this, since that meme was so yesterday. But if you were just getting the e-mail today, or didn't have time to post yesterday and were going to today, please don't. And maybe this should serve as a cautionary tale about how when well-meaning people try to help a cause, they should check with the people actually affected by it to find out if it would actually be helpful.
Travel notes
We arrived home last night, a day earlier than planned. It wasn't so much the heavy snow that was supposed to fall on Illinois and Indiana Wednesday night and all day Thursday - six inches of snow isn't so bad if you can drive out of it. But looking at the forecast made it clear that we would be chasing the weather system the entire way home. Blowing snow for 800 miles isn't my idea of a good time.
So although we're bitterly disappointed not to see our friends in Champaign, we instead made a stop in Indiana for dinner with friends on Wednesday and then went on to spend the night in Columbus. Our trip yesterday was cold but dry, only marred by Alec's discovery of the upper registers of his vocal range. Between the high pitched shrieks and the teething induced biting, I'm beginning to understand what it's like to live with a pterodactyl. Without the flying, that is.
It was lovely to have a day off today, before we embark on our work-filled weekend. We mostly spent it doing exciting things like getting groceries, but it was nice to have two parents for the day.
****
A quote from K today: "I don't want to wear a dinosaur shirt! I'm a girl!" Then she went and gave one of her previously beloved dinosaurs to her little brother because he's a boy and boys like dinosaurs (well, he liked chewing on the dinosaur). Apparently all she likes is princesses and ponies.
That sound you hear would be the breaking of her feminist parents' hearts. Sigh. It's a phase. I know it's a phase. And at least it's not as unpleasant as her other phase of the moment, which involves poop withholding.
So although we're bitterly disappointed not to see our friends in Champaign, we instead made a stop in Indiana for dinner with friends on Wednesday and then went on to spend the night in Columbus. Our trip yesterday was cold but dry, only marred by Alec's discovery of the upper registers of his vocal range. Between the high pitched shrieks and the teething induced biting, I'm beginning to understand what it's like to live with a pterodactyl. Without the flying, that is.
It was lovely to have a day off today, before we embark on our work-filled weekend. We mostly spent it doing exciting things like getting groceries, but it was nice to have two parents for the day.
****
A quote from K today: "I don't want to wear a dinosaur shirt! I'm a girl!" Then she went and gave one of her previously beloved dinosaurs to her little brother because he's a boy and boys like dinosaurs (well, he liked chewing on the dinosaur). Apparently all she likes is princesses and ponies.
That sound you hear would be the breaking of her feminist parents' hearts. Sigh. It's a phase. I know it's a phase. And at least it's not as unpleasant as her other phase of the moment, which involves poop withholding.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Midwestward ho!
We arrived in Michigan 11:30 on Thursday night, with half an hour to spare for ringing in the new year with my mother and brother. Following that came the late Christmas gift opening, fondue lunch AND New Year's posole, all on the same day. Yesterday was the ceremonial trip to the favorite childhood bookstore for lunch, where I always mean to branch out and get something different, but wind up with the roasted artichoke sandwich because it's just so darn good and I get it at most twice a year.
This morning, I woke up at an inhumane, achingly cold hour to deliver my brother to the train station. I am not used to 5 degrees fahrenheit any more, not that that's actually a temperature I saw too often even in my Michigan childhood. In exchange for the lake dumping snow on us all winter, it tended to insulate us from the worst of the cold. Indiana and Illinois, on the other hand, were on average 5-10 degrees warmer than Michigan most of the time, but had nothing to insulate them from the Arctic air that came howling down the prairie, so we experienced a lot more extremes in temperature, including several single degree days every winter (and what I really thought was unfair was in Illinois, even though there wasn't a body of water to provide humidity, it was humid all summer because corn gives off moisture. So it was skin crackingly dry all winter AND sauna humid all summer). This is all colder than Philadelphia, where it feels like an unreasonable cold snap when the daytime temperatures stay below freezing for a whole week. During one of those periods last winter, I was thinking that I had really lost my tolerance for the cold when it occurred to that maybe I should think about zipping up my coat. And putting on a hat, and gloves and maybe one of those new-fangled scarves, instead of attempting to reenact My Logger Lover. I hadn't lost my tolerance, I had just forgotten little details like the fact that we humans can use cleverly sewn together cloth to protect our skins from the cold.
Today was an interstitial day, before the next round of family comes in the form of B's parents coming down for a visit. We want to see them, of course, but I would be lying if I didn't say I cherish hopes of getting out to see a movie while they're here. After that, we head down through Illinois and Indiana for brief visits on our way home.
These visits are never long enough before we have to climb back in the car. Thank goodness our children are good travellers.
This morning, I woke up at an inhumane, achingly cold hour to deliver my brother to the train station. I am not used to 5 degrees fahrenheit any more, not that that's actually a temperature I saw too often even in my Michigan childhood. In exchange for the lake dumping snow on us all winter, it tended to insulate us from the worst of the cold. Indiana and Illinois, on the other hand, were on average 5-10 degrees warmer than Michigan most of the time, but had nothing to insulate them from the Arctic air that came howling down the prairie, so we experienced a lot more extremes in temperature, including several single degree days every winter (and what I really thought was unfair was in Illinois, even though there wasn't a body of water to provide humidity, it was humid all summer because corn gives off moisture. So it was skin crackingly dry all winter AND sauna humid all summer). This is all colder than Philadelphia, where it feels like an unreasonable cold snap when the daytime temperatures stay below freezing for a whole week. During one of those periods last winter, I was thinking that I had really lost my tolerance for the cold when it occurred to that maybe I should think about zipping up my coat. And putting on a hat, and gloves and maybe one of those new-fangled scarves, instead of attempting to reenact My Logger Lover. I hadn't lost my tolerance, I had just forgotten little details like the fact that we humans can use cleverly sewn together cloth to protect our skins from the cold.
Today was an interstitial day, before the next round of family comes in the form of B's parents coming down for a visit. We want to see them, of course, but I would be lying if I didn't say I cherish hopes of getting out to see a movie while they're here. After that, we head down through Illinois and Indiana for brief visits on our way home.
These visits are never long enough before we have to climb back in the car. Thank goodness our children are good travellers.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A quiet Christmas
We had a good day today. We were up at 7:30, ate cinnamon rolls (which came out darn well if I do say so myself) and helped the children open presents. After that, K was happily busy the rest of the day playing with her loot and we made phone calls to family and did exciting things like nap. We ended the day with cheese fondue for dinner, bathtime and an easy bedtime.
I guess this is a sign that I'm really a grownup, because since we're seeing most of our family next week, and B and I are planning to get a new tv as a gift to each other, there were very few presents for the adults. And yet I'm okay with that. Getting stuff is nice, but there's nothing I want so badly that I mind not having it. I was just happy that everything I got K was a huge hit.
Now last night, mind you, was one of those nights where you wish your children would grow up faster. We went to the Christmas Eve service at church, and wound up walking with Alec at the back of the sanctuary for most of the service, added to the dubious milestone of the first time I ever had to march K out of the room to give her a stern lecture on proper behavior (she wanted to run between where I was sitting in the pews to where B was with Alec, you see. I was helpfully told later by someone that this church is very child-friendly and people don't mind children running around, but it's going to take major tranquilizers before I'm okay with my child running up and down the center aisle during a service). I remember hearing a sermon on Christmas once where the minister talked about "feeling Christmas," and that's what I kept thinking about when I looked at K last night: she was feeling Christmas, in a big way. Honestly, given that's she four and it was Christmas Eve, she wasn't bad at all. But while little kids make Christmas morning really fun, I was missing the quiet Christmas Eves we had pre-children where we went to the late service and then left to go into a cold, quiet starry night and go home and drink mulled cider.
It was worth it, though, when during the children's message the minister was asking the children what animals live in a stable and K piped up "Unicorns!" I had given her a stuffed unicorn the day before as a way of smoothing out a bad day by giving her a present early. It was a huge hit, and she sang in the children's choir last night with her unicorn clutched in her arms.
That's children in a nutshell, isn't it? Transcendently wonderful and hair-pullingly awful, often with the same five minutes. But they're by far the best present I could get:
I guess this is a sign that I'm really a grownup, because since we're seeing most of our family next week, and B and I are planning to get a new tv as a gift to each other, there were very few presents for the adults. And yet I'm okay with that. Getting stuff is nice, but there's nothing I want so badly that I mind not having it. I was just happy that everything I got K was a huge hit.
Now last night, mind you, was one of those nights where you wish your children would grow up faster. We went to the Christmas Eve service at church, and wound up walking with Alec at the back of the sanctuary for most of the service, added to the dubious milestone of the first time I ever had to march K out of the room to give her a stern lecture on proper behavior (she wanted to run between where I was sitting in the pews to where B was with Alec, you see. I was helpfully told later by someone that this church is very child-friendly and people don't mind children running around, but it's going to take major tranquilizers before I'm okay with my child running up and down the center aisle during a service). I remember hearing a sermon on Christmas once where the minister talked about "feeling Christmas," and that's what I kept thinking about when I looked at K last night: she was feeling Christmas, in a big way. Honestly, given that's she four and it was Christmas Eve, she wasn't bad at all. But while little kids make Christmas morning really fun, I was missing the quiet Christmas Eves we had pre-children where we went to the late service and then left to go into a cold, quiet starry night and go home and drink mulled cider.
It was worth it, though, when during the children's message the minister was asking the children what animals live in a stable and K piped up "Unicorns!" I had given her a stuffed unicorn the day before as a way of smoothing out a bad day by giving her a present early. It was a huge hit, and she sang in the children's choir last night with her unicorn clutched in her arms.
That's children in a nutshell, isn't it? Transcendently wonderful and hair-pullingly awful, often with the same five minutes. But they're by far the best present I could get:
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Snow day
We woke up to the phone ringing this morning, telling that the city libraries would be closed today due to snow. Normally, the way the city shuts down for a tiny amount of snow has us sneering about southern pansies who can't seem to figure out that if you get multiple significant snowfalls every year, you might want to budget some money for plowing. But today, we've had a snowstorm that is worthy of the name even by Michigan standards, with 16 inches falling at Philadelphia International Airport. I'm glad I made the effort to get bread last night - the grocery store shelves looked like they had been attacked by locusts as people stocked up for the coming snowcopalypse.
We've spent the day cozily inside, enjoying the relaxation and gift of an unexpected vacation. K and I finished the Christmas presents we've been making and I suspect tomorrow will be devoted to Christmas cookies, and hopefully Christmas cards. Since another five inches is expected to fall tonight, I would be surprised if church happens tomorrow. Instead, we'll stay inside another day and be glad that we have shelter and food, and don't have anywhere we need to be. I had a number of plans for this weekend, but I'm finding I'm really enjoying the enforced inactivity. It's been several months since we had a two-day weekend, and the break that comes from having two parents home at once is welcome indeed.
We've spent the day cozily inside, enjoying the relaxation and gift of an unexpected vacation. K and I finished the Christmas presents we've been making and I suspect tomorrow will be devoted to Christmas cookies, and hopefully Christmas cards. Since another five inches is expected to fall tonight, I would be surprised if church happens tomorrow. Instead, we'll stay inside another day and be glad that we have shelter and food, and don't have anywhere we need to be. I had a number of plans for this weekend, but I'm finding I'm really enjoying the enforced inactivity. It's been several months since we had a two-day weekend, and the break that comes from having two parents home at once is welcome indeed.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Holidays which it is starting to look a lot like
We put our Christmas tree up Saturday night. Up to now, it hasn't really been penetrating that it's less than two weeks until Christmas, probably because we're not doing the family celebration until New Year's, which means I'm not feeling any pressure to finish my shopping. K, however, isn't suffering from that problem at all, and it became clear she was going to explode from pent-up holiday excitement if we didn't get the tree up.
After the tree was up, we HAD to wrap presents. Only the only presents were for K and I clearly wasn't going to let her wrap them herself, so she brought me some of her books to wrap instead. So I did, and I admit they looked nice under the tree. And the next day, when K simply HAD to open them, it wasn't a problem.
As for her actual presents, I think I'm pretty much done shopping, except for a trip to the bookstore to get a few books. K has been asking for a castle for the past two months, so that's what she's getting. The alert might remember that she got a large castle last year, but she wants a castle for her appalling little Disney princess dolls that have removable rubber clothes and teeny tiny shoes that come with their own mini black hole so they can get lost that much more quickly. She wants it badly enough to have kicked all of the dolls out of her dollhouse to install her princesses in instead. And while my first instinct was that she doesn't need another castle, my second was that there's no rule that she can't have her own little empire if she wants, and why should I waste my money on things I think she should have instead of buying her what she really wants? However, I wasn't about to get the crappy $50 plastic castle that got universally bad reviews on the web for falling apart almost instantly, which was the one she kept saying she wanted. But I lucked onto a great sale and managed to get a cute little Melissa and Doug princess castle for $25, and when it was hinted to K that she might get a pink castle for Christmas, she pretty much instantly forgot about the crappy plastic one. She had also asked for some horses to go with her castle, and I found a cute little wooden horse and carriage that I think will fit the bill. In addition, because I feel a bit guilty about not getting her the crappy plastic castle she actually asked for, she's getting another horrible little Disney princess doll set.
On the non-castle side, I found a cute little school playset on extreme clearance this fall, and some puzzles and a make-your-own princess doll. We'll get her a couple books, and I think I might get her the stuffed unicorn that she plays with every single time we go to the bookstore. That should be plenty for her princess-obsessed holiday.
As for Alec, he's not getting much, but he's getting more than his sister did for her first Christmas, which is to say that he's getting something from us. With K, I didn't see the point of buying her things and wrapping them when it would mean absolutely nothing to her and we already got her things all the time. With Alec, I'm getting him a few things mostly because I think his sister will expect it. So I got him one of those classic baby toys with the little animals that pop up when you press their buttons, and will probably get him a carseat toy. When I bought him a jumperoo for him earlier this fall, I justified the on-sale but still not cheap expense to myself by saying it would be most of his Christmas present. And goodness knows we've gotten our money out of it, so Merry Christmas, Son. I hope you appreciate getting your present way early.
It's definitely feeling more like Christmas around here. I've spent the past couple days acquiring all of the Muppet Christmas specials so we can have a big Muppet Christmas marathon starting with John Denver and working our way through to the latest not-great-but-considerably-less-mediocre-than-most-recent-Muppet-offerings special.
After the tree was up, we HAD to wrap presents. Only the only presents were for K and I clearly wasn't going to let her wrap them herself, so she brought me some of her books to wrap instead. So I did, and I admit they looked nice under the tree. And the next day, when K simply HAD to open them, it wasn't a problem.
As for her actual presents, I think I'm pretty much done shopping, except for a trip to the bookstore to get a few books. K has been asking for a castle for the past two months, so that's what she's getting. The alert might remember that she got a large castle last year, but she wants a castle for her appalling little Disney princess dolls that have removable rubber clothes and teeny tiny shoes that come with their own mini black hole so they can get lost that much more quickly. She wants it badly enough to have kicked all of the dolls out of her dollhouse to install her princesses in instead. And while my first instinct was that she doesn't need another castle, my second was that there's no rule that she can't have her own little empire if she wants, and why should I waste my money on things I think she should have instead of buying her what she really wants? However, I wasn't about to get the crappy $50 plastic castle that got universally bad reviews on the web for falling apart almost instantly, which was the one she kept saying she wanted. But I lucked onto a great sale and managed to get a cute little Melissa and Doug princess castle for $25, and when it was hinted to K that she might get a pink castle for Christmas, she pretty much instantly forgot about the crappy plastic one. She had also asked for some horses to go with her castle, and I found a cute little wooden horse and carriage that I think will fit the bill. In addition, because I feel a bit guilty about not getting her the crappy plastic castle she actually asked for, she's getting another horrible little Disney princess doll set.
On the non-castle side, I found a cute little school playset on extreme clearance this fall, and some puzzles and a make-your-own princess doll. We'll get her a couple books, and I think I might get her the stuffed unicorn that she plays with every single time we go to the bookstore. That should be plenty for her princess-obsessed holiday.
As for Alec, he's not getting much, but he's getting more than his sister did for her first Christmas, which is to say that he's getting something from us. With K, I didn't see the point of buying her things and wrapping them when it would mean absolutely nothing to her and we already got her things all the time. With Alec, I'm getting him a few things mostly because I think his sister will expect it. So I got him one of those classic baby toys with the little animals that pop up when you press their buttons, and will probably get him a carseat toy. When I bought him a jumperoo for him earlier this fall, I justified the on-sale but still not cheap expense to myself by saying it would be most of his Christmas present. And goodness knows we've gotten our money out of it, so Merry Christmas, Son. I hope you appreciate getting your present way early.
It's definitely feeling more like Christmas around here. I've spent the past couple days acquiring all of the Muppet Christmas specials so we can have a big Muppet Christmas marathon starting with John Denver and working our way through to the latest not-great-but-considerably-less-mediocre-than-most-recent-Muppet-offerings special.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
So it turns out I have a very limited amount of time every evening where I have the use of both hands. When I commit to typing, I can usually pound something out on a semi-regular basis. But apparently when I commit to a large act of sewing, like a winter coat for an overexcited four-year-old, that eats up all of my bimanual time and typing goes straight out the winter. Alas. But I think we have a good chance of the coat being done before spring (did I mention it's a very small amount of time?).
***
It's amazing how quickly "Huh, the baby's nose is running but doesn't have any other cold symptoms. I wonder if he has some upper teeth coming in causing irritation?" can turn into "Here's the nebulizer for the bronchiolitis and I prescribed a larger dose of amoxicillin than usual because that ear is so severely infected." I swear, the only symptom he had yesterday was a runny nose (which, in conjunction with the drool made the entire area between his nose and chin shiny wet most of yesterday) and a very occasional cough. However, when he woke up shrieking this morning after a restless night, that clued us in that maybe he wasn't feeling well. We are brilliantly observant sometimes. Even so, while he definitely hasn't been himself today, even the pediatrician remarked that he was incredibly cheerful for a baby that sick.
Poor little bunny. He's now medicated to the gills, and I devoutly hope he will sleep better tonight than he did last night.
***
It's amazing how quickly "Huh, the baby's nose is running but doesn't have any other cold symptoms. I wonder if he has some upper teeth coming in causing irritation?" can turn into "Here's the nebulizer for the bronchiolitis and I prescribed a larger dose of amoxicillin than usual because that ear is so severely infected." I swear, the only symptom he had yesterday was a runny nose (which, in conjunction with the drool made the entire area between his nose and chin shiny wet most of yesterday) and a very occasional cough. However, when he woke up shrieking this morning after a restless night, that clued us in that maybe he wasn't feeling well. We are brilliantly observant sometimes. Even so, while he definitely hasn't been himself today, even the pediatrician remarked that he was incredibly cheerful for a baby that sick.
Poor little bunny. He's now medicated to the gills, and I devoutly hope he will sleep better tonight than he did last night.
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