Posts from — June 2009

This might feel like a little bit of deja vu from the last post, but I try really hard to be accurate in my depiction of our life here and these days that’s going to consist of a lot of posts about sitting around and staring at my kids. Until next week when it will  involve sitting around and staring at my kids and some other people at the beach.

Those two scenarios sound the same, but that’s pretty deceptive, because we all know that one of them involves a lot of alcohol.  Plus, the other one’s near the ocean!

Yeah from racher on Vimeo.

BACKSEAT DRIVER

Noah is KILLING me in the car these days, and I don’t mean like slaying-me-’cause-he’s-such-a-riot killing me, I mean literally I want to stop at the nearest corner and leave him there with a sign that says FREE KID.  He is obsessed with the rules of the road, how to get from point A to point B, and the quality of my driving.  If he’s not questioning me on Driver’s Ed textbook information (“We can turn right even though we have a red light, right Mom?  But we can NOT turn left on a red light. Right?”) he is critiquing my driving (“GO, Mom.  Mom, why are you going slow? Mom, we are turning! Put the blinker on! MOM!”) or policing the roads for Evil Rule-Breaking Other Drivers (“I just saw that white van go through a red light.  I did. He should not do that.  Right Mom?”).  It’s like having a teenager who is about to be a driver and therefore is keenly interested in all things road-related, but without the filter that teenagers have where they absolutely will not look interested in something because that is So Totally Uncool.

Relatedly, Noah, who is particularly well spoken and says few words incorrectly, thinks that the mph that you are required to stay under while driving is called the “Spimit Leed.”  L and I feel somewhat robbed of Cute Kid Mispronunciations and so have done nothing to correct this.

If you live anywhere in our vicinity, I suggest you watch your back and go the spimit leed or Noah will totally call out your bad-drivin’ ass.

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WOULD KICK ASS AT THE PHYSICAL FITNESS SIT AND REACH TEST

(Plz ignore filthy carpet THNX.)

Sit and Reach from racher on Vimeo.

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YOU HAD ME AT BATHTUB

I’ve been having trouble thinking of enough activities to entertain Noah this summer, or at least thinking of enough activities that don’t involve Nutter Butters and Super Why.  But then I came up with a BRILLIANT PLAN: why not fill his time with packing up every single thing in our house and moving it to another house? I know. I’m a genius.

Seriously, we have stumbled into some Divine Residential Providence by way of family friends whose house became available right at the time that we were trying desperately to think of ways that I could keep from losing my everloving mind next year as L starts law school and my single parenting quotient goes way up.  Not only will this give us more space so that we are not all up in each other’s business all the time, but (you know what’s coming…) GREAT GOD ALMIGHTY THERE WILL BE A BATHTUB AND A DISHWASHER IN THE HOUSE I LIVE IN.

I’m trying really hard to remember that having these two things back in my life does not necessarily mean that all my Life Problems will be solved, but come on seriously guys, I’m not entirely convinced that they won’t be.

Joseph – HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY LITTLE BRO!  My gift here to you today is *not* telling that one story from when you were little.  I know you know which one.

Rachel D. - I so enjoyed getting your email the other day and fully intend to write you back.  It may not happen until Rosie is old enough to take dictation, but I will do it!  Your various bits of news made me happy and sad and excited for you.  And the bit about your verbal slip and A’s response (“To three more years!” “Great! We’re halfway there!”) during your anniversary toast made L and I laugh out loud for two, maybe three minutes.  It just goes to show that even the smartest brains can turn screwy once you throw a fetus at them.

Kate - I’m sad you’re moving.  But also happy for you.  I hope I get to see you before you leave (if you haven’t left yet).

Beth - I hoped maybe I’d see you before you left for Miami, but alas, it was not to be.  Here’s to smooth transitions, never broken AC, and sexy Spanish-speaking men.

Allen - Did you raise enough money for the kitteh’s leg?  When I got your email, we were poised to leave town for Mississippi, but Noah got sick and we stayed and I promptly forgot all about it.  I hope people were in the mood for thrifty finds on folding tables in the scorching heat this weekend.

Elissa - I got the recipes you sent me.  Unfortunately for Father’s Day I washed all our dishes (No for serious. Every last one.) since that’s usually L’s job and I was giving him a break, and it took such a long time that I vowed I was never going to use another skillet, utensil, plate, cup, or saucepan ever again.  So I don’t think I’ll need them.  But thanks anyway.

MP - It was really nice to talk to you the other day, and I got your text.  I definitely want to go see UP, and plan to take Noah when I do. I’ve seen the previews though, and wonder if we might be taking his fear of dogs straight to Phobiaville what with that menacing pack chase scene.  I haven’t seen it though.  Maybe it will induce a fear of heights. Or Boy Scouts.  I just never know with this kid.

Mary Alice – You wrote me a very nice email a long (loooong) time ago and told me how you enjoyed this blog.  If you are still checking in, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry I never wrote you back and thank you for letting me know, it meant a lot to me to hear that.

Ben and Lane – Dang, you guys are getting married in like 18 days.  Did you get the ribbon in the mail?  I am currently working on my teleportation skills in order to make it.  If you see a disembodied pasty white leg at the wedding, it means I was mostly successful.  (BTW, my leg RSVPs Yes for the reception, will take the chicken dinner, thanks.)

Dad – Happy Father’s Day!  Um…yesterday.  I got you the same thing I got you last year: Grandchildren.  You’re welcome!

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This concludes my Mass Public Correspondence for today.  Many more could have been written, but will have to wait until next time…

If the amount of love he had for these two kids

Could be quantified in some ordinary way

Using inches or feet or pounds

There would be no way of even attempting the feat

Without using the likes of the metric ton

Or the acre

Or quite possibly even the light year.

(To L, Happy Father’s Day. Love R, N, and R.)

Noah is one month shy of four and a half years old.  Rosie is seven months.

Noah’s face currently looks like this:

(Running down a steep street, he tripped, broke his fall with his face, broke his face with the fall, and then he cried. And then I cried.)

Rosie eats wagon wheels, smearing sticky booger like globs all over her face and clothes.  She hearts pears and carrots (warmed slightly, if you please), but if she had the fine motor skills, I’m pretty sure she’d give squash the middle finger.

Tonight I read three bedtime stories to Noah, the first being “Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost.  Inside the front cover it says in neat cursive “To Rachel who was so beautiful as Mary in the Christmas program and sang her song so sweetly. With love from Grandmother and Granddaddy.”  After the first page, which reads “Whose woods these are I think I know,” Noah, laying on the pillow next to me, turned his mouth to touch my ear and whispered, “It’s God.”

Rosie swam in the pool today for the very first time. She’d smack the water heartily, and then blink and sputter and cough in surprise at the water that hit her in the face as a result. Then she’d smack the water again, and the level of surprise at the corresponding face splash would be exactly as intense as it was the first time.  This went on for a while, until someone pooped in the pool and we went home.

Noah can read anything he sees, which means that instead of getting the God-given parental reprieve of spelling things so that the child does not know what you’re talking about, we instead have to come up with ridiculously large vocabulary words to substitute for regular ones in conversation.  Sample from today: “I was thinking we might be able to go to the vast reservoir of chlorinated H2O today with the offspring, do you think we have time?”

Rosie gets up every day by 5:30, and L gets up with her.  Trust me when I say that the world is a better place because of this arrangement.  It’s hard to be grumpy about the early hour though (obviously this is second hand information) when you are greeted with kicking feet, bright eyes and a (practically, save one itty bitty sliver) toothless grin.  “Da? Da?” I always hear Rosie babble as she and L close the door leaving me in the dark bedroom to sleep.

These are things I want to remember.