Hey, maybe you noticed: I made a new header up there. And it LINKS TO THE HOMEPAGE. The future is now, y’all. Try it, I’m for real! Go watch some Cranky Bear and then click my magical header and BOOM: you’re back to the mothership.
Yestertime = legit.
(With much gratitude to Lisa for knowing how to fix my mucked up CSS.)
December 11, 2013 No Comments
Max’s language is ‘splodin’ all over the place, and it is the best thing in existence. Yesterday, out of the blue, he started saying SOCK-AH BAWW clear as day while he bumped it around the living room with his Flintstone feet. He also started trying to sing lyrics to songs, and can I just say, please get a 19 month old to sing to you stat. Your troubles will essentially disappear into thin air while they do. My personal favorite is the kids’ classic: “Gunk-ah, Gunk-ah, Dit Dit Tar”
Coo doo (while wearing sunglasses and looking fly)
wun wun FOOTbaw (when the game’s on)
gudpush (when he wants an aquatic shaped orange snack)
MUSS (when I’m sweeping floor detritus into piles—always said with CAPS LOCK emphasis)
jack (when he wants to don a coat for the outside)(sidenote: Rosie used to say the same thing)
udda baw (when one baw just will not do)
and MAH DADA (so that there is no confusion)
Nineteen months yesterday and roundin’ the corner to 2.
December 10, 2013 No Comments
The first year Luke and I were married, he surprised me with tickets to The Nutcracker, which up until that point in my life I had never seen. We had dinner in downtown Boston beforehand at a restaurant right across the street from the theater where several of the little girls performing in the show dined before scurrying off to make their call time. We dressed up, and people pulled up to the front in fancy cars. The Boston Ballet was stunning, and I was enchanted by the whole thing from start to finish.
I love live theater in general, too, and always have. It’s some crazy magic, a whole room of people going along with a made up story and put on characters. And as Noah has gotten older, I have shared some of that with him, but though he’s interested in a good show just fine, I can tell it doesn’t quite affect him in the starry-eyed, oh-the-possibilities way that it did me from the first second a curtain was raised in front of my lit up face.
But then came Rosie.
Even as a baby, I could tell something clicked with her when it came to music and performance, and so in my head I started plotting our first outing to the theah-tah. What better first foray, thought I, than The Nutcracker? Little girls like her, pointy-toed dancers, a Snow Queen … I lay in wait of the day when her age would allow for sitting through at least the first act of a show. (I was keeping it real.) Four seemed like the year, but I waited too late to get the tickets, and by the time I looked into it, they were too expensive, even for a magical first memory with my girl. Four was not to be the year.
Then in early October this year I received a flier in the mail with a coupon code for the show and I took it as a clear sign: THIS WAS HAPPENING. Five was it, I was on the ball, and we were gonna DEW THIS.
And then literally the very next day I got an email from Rosie’s teacher: Hey Parents! Field trip! Pre-K takes on THE NUTCRACKER!
I admit, I was crestfallen. I had already imagined her face when we walked into The Fox for the first time. She would gasp at the twinkling stars on the ceiling, and I would pull her into my lap when the lady with the big updo sat in the seat in front of her. I felt like something was being stolen from me (yes, STOLEN because if you haven’t gathered yet from this post, I enjoy plying audiences with some DRAMZ from time to time) and I wanted it back, dammit!
So I decided to beat that meddlesome Pre-K bunch to the punch and bought two tickets for opening night.
Sure, I paid good money to take her to the same thing she was going to see for only $10 the very next week, and shelled out extra for parking because it was raining and I didn’t want to walk too far with the tiny umbrella I managed to find at the very last minute in the piles of coats on our front porch before we left, and got peanut butter in my purse from the sandwich I wolfed down in the car on the way there, and almost missed the beginning because she had to use the bathroom even though we had been sitting in our seats for half an hour and I’d asked her five times if she had to go, and sat behind the loudest row in the entire theater including two girls who turned around and looked at us every two minutes, and sent an entire cup of Coke cascading down two rows of seats in the opening strains of Act 1 … BUT.
Her eyes didn’t leave the stage hardly at all for 2+ hours. She asked me approximately 3,425 questions, and wanted to know how and why EVERYTHING was happening. She asked me if she could stand up and dance. She climbed up into her seat during the scene where Clara grabbed a sword and attacked the giant rats, with a look on her face that said HELLZ YEAH, CLARA! She leaned over during the second act when the arab dancers did their bit, saying, “I love this careful music.” She wanted to know how the dancers stayed on their toes that long, and watched with her feet pointed straight out in front of her. She was concerned when the music was dramatic, and gasped when the stage was filled with snow. In short, she reacted just as I always knew she would.
Then again, she also curved her head toward mine at one point, never taking her gaze from the action, and said in her best stage whisper, “Mama, did you know that we are matter? Everything around us is matter. Except for blankets, they’re soft.”
So anyway, buying those tickets was 110% worth it.
December 9, 2013 2 Comments
Tweets that have made me Ell Oh Ell* lately:
*False. Nothing and no one has ever made me “lol.” If you ever see me use that term here or on social media, call me immediately and tell me to change my passwords, cause I’ve been HACKED.
December 6, 2013 No Comments
If another mother was writing this post, it would be chock-full of facts and figures and links about the effects of Red 40 (a.k.a. Allura Red, Food Red 17, C.I. 16035, FD&C Red 40, E129, 2-
A couple of weeks ago, Rosie had an epic meltdown to end all meltdowns. You probably heard it from your house. Or felt the vibrations, at the very least. Rosie tantrumming is not an unheard of phenomenon—she is quite vocal with her preferences in life—but this entered a whole other strata of protestations. And most notably, was completely unprovoked. I had issued no edicts. Given zero commands. I hadn’t even addressed her, really. Her movie ended (but I had not turned it off, or even hinted that it would at some point in the near future be turned off) and she then proceeded to initiate transformation sequence into a fully feral wildebeest. I am only using a little bit of hyperbole.
I won’t go into details, but looking at her as she writhed on the floor (in my locked bedroom with me keeping her from hurting herself accidentally), it was like she was gone from herself and in her place was Some Other Thing. Her eyes were wild and she tried to injure me multiple times out of frustration/anger. In short, it was awful. Later that night I was thinking back over the day, just to try to get some sort of idea of what could have triggered such a reaction, and I realized she had Hi-C fruit punch at a restaurant for dinner, which was unusual. Then I remembered she had also had a birthday celebration at school that involved neon-iced cupcakes of some sort. And that’s when I decided, after a few minutes of Googling, that Red 40* is an asshole.
I have no doctor’s note or research data to back up my mom-diagnosis here, but real talk: Red 40 ain’t good for nobody. So I just decided to give it the ol’ kibosh and take it out of Rosie’s diet.
And honestly, I think it’s making a difference. It’s not a mega-dramatic change, but it’s noticeable. She has started dealing with changes in plans a whole lot more smoothly, recovers more quickly from upsets, and has remained fully in her body since we eradicated it (or at least drastically reduced it) and that’s good enough proof for me.
Both Noah and Rosie are remarkably good natured about this change, and it’s made me very aware of two things: 1. they are given candy a lot a lot a lot and 2. Red 40 is in errrrrrrrything, including the toothpaste they’d been using for over a year. (And so I say unto you, FDA, and America in general: WTF.) But they scour ingredients now, and if they see Red 40, they put whatever it is down with a “WELP,” and move on.
Also, Rosie seems to really show some sense of relief that there was something to blame for her behavior. On more than one occasion she asked me why I didn’t like her (ow, my heart), and I’m sure it’s because the majority of my interaction with her involved correction of some sort. When I explained to her why we were going to only give her sans Red 40 foods from now on, she was immediately on board, and almost acted like “Finally, someone has figured out what I’ve known all along.”
My biggest concern is that I’ve turned them into the Health Police. Good grief, can you imagine a trip to the grocery store? Noah would just start in the first aisle and pick up all the packages one by one down the line, making mental “Red 40/No Red 40″ list in his head, while Rosie would march indignantly over to every cart and inform the person behind it of all the things they should not be buying.
Maybe we will not do a family grocery run.
Tonight at church, a Max-aged little girl was wailing in her highchair over one thing or another at the table next to ours, and after it had gone on for a few minutes, Rosie cocked her head over toward the table, gave me the all-knowing look and said in her loudest, most informative voice, “MAMA, I THINK THAT BABY HAD RED 40.”
Rosie Mae, it’s good to have you back.
*I realize there are about 56 other artificial dyes, as well as about a million other food issues I could worry/bitch about for lots of reasons, but I have limited brain space/brown hairs on my head at the moment and am going to tackle the most common culprit first and move on from there. Also, I still eat M&Ms. But not in front of the kids, because what kind of mother do you think I am? (I hide all candy consumption from them, and always have, duh.)
December 5, 2013 4 Comments