slug rodeo

big changes

2009-06-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I took Elizabee to get some tennis shoes -- she'd worn a hole in one last week. We dutifully pick out a pair from the kids' section in the largest size (and the size of the previous pair -- a kid 4 1/2). "I can't get my foot in, Mama!" Not completely surprising, but now we have to move to the actual women's sizes. We try a 5. No go. And a 6. We finally get her feets into some 6 1/2. I am convinced it's because her feet are fairly wide, but when she stands up and I feel for her toe, it's in an appropriate place -- not to the edge, but not too far back. Silently wonder where my little girl with her little girl sized feet has gone.

As we were standing at the checkout line, I noticed that Miss Bee's head is on the same level as my chin. Want to commence weeping, but instead grin and point out how tall she is to her.

Go home and tell Archie that our girl is freaking BIG and almost cry.

the other spelling bee

2009-05-29T08:56:00.000-07:00

While last night was the Scripps Bee -- the national one, from Washington --it was also the school district bee. Louisa had won her school's bee, so she was competing. It was exciting and she was nervous. So was her mama. She's only in the fourth grade and was one of the youngest spellers (and she was the first fourth grader to win at her school). This was a big deal.

She made it through the first round with the word "ventilate." I could breathe for a bit -- and I'm sure she could, too. Then in the second round she got "affinity." I could tell right away she was unsure how to spell it. She asked for the origin and took a breath and left out one of the "f"s. I have to say, it is very hard to keep a calm, uninterested face when you know after the third letter that your child has just messed up. She was obviously upset when the judges held up their red cards to indicate that she wasn't successful in her attempt. She walked off stage and apparently they gave her a cookie and our school principal was right there to comfort her a bit and let her decompress before sending her back out to the audience. Lou said, "Mrs. Hudson was saying something to me, Mama. And I tried to look at her attentively, but I couldn't understand anything she said because I was so sad."

She sat on my lap through the third round and whispered how to spell each word. Correctly -- the child knew all the words following her miss. As I told her a little later, there's an element of luck in a spelling bee. Sometimes you just get a word you don't know or can't figure out. Them's the breaks. But we had frozen yogurt and she perked up a little.

Bless her heart, she wrote "affinity" on the back of her nametag. Right before bed, she got gloomy again and started to project how the other kids at school would tease her for losing. I told her she might be surprised and that I was sure her friends would be very sympathetic. She said, "Yeah, my friends and I have an affinity for each other."

And you and I have an affinity for each other, too, baby. We're all so proud of you. You'll do even better next year.

the baby pandas killed us dead

2009-05-28T10:05:00.000-07:00

I recorded a show on the local PBS channel about twin pandas born in a panda reserve in China called Panda Nursery. (You think I've exhausted the use of the word "panda?" You have no idea.) I was watching it with the girls and it was hilarious. You know how they show little mini-clips on PBS shows before the "corporate sponsorship" (read: commercials) spots but before the show proper? Yeah, it was a festival of aaawww-ing. They showed the baby pandas on a platform and then they were trying to get down a ladder and they tumbled all over each other and I said, "Oh, my gosh! I just died from the cuteness!" And then the next brief shot was the two little guys drinking milk out of bowls and when they looked up? Milk all over their unbelievably cute panda faces! And we all aaawwww-ed some more and Bebe said, "I just came back to life and died AGAIN from the cuteness! So cute!"

When the show actually, really started, they had so worn us down with the little cute vignettes, that the girls were brainwashed into thinking the newborn pandas were cute, too. Which they are not. They are just these naked, pink things which are really, really disturbing. From one angle, they looked like deformed starfish. But the girls were still all gooey from the previous glimpses of true and abiding panda cub cuteness and they cooed and clucked over the adorableness of the icky pink things.

The show was very informative and, yes, too too cute -- except for a few things. Did you know that panda cubs are unable to toilet by themselves for months? I did not. Their mother (or, in this case, their mother and the human handlers) have to encourage them to pee and poop. The people stroke the panda bellies, which isn't too bad. But the mother licks the babies and then they eliminate and it is pretty gross.

And near the end, since this was a nature animal documentary, there was some business about panda mating. The girls said that was disgusting and they insisted that I fast forward through it -- so we could get to some more adorable bits with the twin panda cubs.

(I also have to get to China because there was a bit where they showed tourists visiting the center and they showed a Western woman who got to sit on a bench RIGHT NEXT TO A PANDA! She got to pet and hug it! I think I really need to do this before I die. Can you imagine? I might actually really die -- but I would get to pet and hug a real, live panda!)

newbie white belt

2009-05-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

I started taking kajukenbo a few weeks ago, and it's ripping good fun. Charlotte and I are both taking class together. Tuesdays and Thursdays are killer long evenings. I pick up the kids, we all suit up in our gis and double check that we have our belts and stuff and we head out. The twins take a class and I help Cha with her homework. Then Charlotte runs around a little and the twins take sparring and I read (or usually watch sparring class, which is hugely entertaining). Then the twins talk with friends or read or finish up homework while ChaCha and I take our class. Then we come home and shovel food into our starving maws and before you know it, it's time for the kids to go to bed.

As a white belt, we have to learn 12 squat sets (I've got those down), a pinyon (also known as a kata or form -- also nailed down), and three self-defense sequences (done). As an adult, I have to know two more self-defense sequences and another kata known as a coordination. (The two added self-defense bits -- called "knives" and "covers" -- and the coordinations are taught when a student is 14 or older.) Last night, one of the brown belts was teaching me the first coordination. When I took a break to have some water, his little sister, who is an orange belt, was talking to me and said, "Have you learned the coordination yet?" I told her no, it took a lot of practice for me to get all the moves and timing into my old, hard brain and my ache-y body, unlike her, who probably could watch any move and do it and know it in about five minutes. She laughed and I said, "It's because your brain is all squishy and sponge-like and you just suck that stuff up and it's really easy. But. I get to learn coordinations and knives and covers at each belt and slowly -- you'll have to cram them all in once you hit 14. Ha! Old person win!"

I was telling Archie about this conversation and he laughed and said, "Awww, you're just like Kramer! Remember that Seinfeld where Kramer was talking about what a star he was in karate and then it turned out he was the only adult amongst kids? That's you!" I do feel like a freaking giant, that's for sure.

The aches and pains are pretty depressing -- as Archie said, you don't notice it until you do head rolls, but someone sneaks in and puts a load of gravel in your neck at some point. It sounds like one of those Fisher-Price popper things in my head and neck. I had my first bruise from throwing elbows and, well, this is embarrassing, but -- hitting myself. Heh.

And kicking? Completely makes your butt hurt like hell. It is also annoying when your older daughters tell you how good your moves look and then they demonstrate and they can kick over their heads. Condescending little karate robots.

live every week like it's shark week

2009-03-30T09:48:00.000-07:00

30 Rock is my favorite TV show right now (and for the past three seasons). Are you watching it? You should. (There, that's my public service for the day.)

Anyway, the other day I was asking the girls what their favorite TV shows are. Elizabeth said, "Well, my favorite TV show is the kid version of your favorite show." I was a little confused since I don't let the girls watch 30 Rock and I couldn't for the life of me think of a show they like that bears any resemblance to the craziness and hilarity that is Tina Fey and Tracy Morgan and Alec Baldwin.

"Well, what do you mean, hon?" "Sonny With a Chance, Mama! Because it's about a sketch comedy show!"

Which, indeed it is. Of course, the kid version is much tamer and on Disney, but still. It brings me a lot fo joy thinking that maybe my kids will enjoy the adult version in the future. Live every week like it's shark week, my babies!

brownie day

2009-03-25T15:15:00.000-07:00

I went to pick up the twins from their afterschool program and one of the aides made me laugh out loud. It was snack time, and all the kids were sitting at picnic tables and eating and talking. Garrett said hi to me and said, "Today is brownie day. Everyone is very protective of their snack on brownie day. Now, on goldfish day? Any kid will happily spot you some goldfish crackers. But on brownie day, they'll just give you dirty looks if you ask for a piece of the brownie."

birthday

2009-03-03T09:33:00.000-08:00

Sunday was Cha's birthday. She's now a seven year old. (Officially, because today, when I woke up the girls, she muttered, "Just five more minutes, Mom.") It was a really, really nice day. We got her two of those robotic dinosaurs ("These are the best presents, ever!"), a Hello Kitty card with stickers ("This is the best card, ever!"), and we all went bowling and then had dinner at her restaurant choice (IHOP, and lots of cries of, "This is the best birthday, ever!") Then some singing and candles and an ice cream cake before bed. As I kissed her good night and wished her a happy birthday for the last time this year, she said, "This was such an awesome birthday. I think seven will be a great year!" I think I will keep her.

My favorite thing that she did on her birthday was when she was quietly playing with her dinos and she was singing to them. I was cracking up because she was singing "Kayaking" -- a very funny, silly song. I don't think there's anything better than a newly-minted seven year old singing a hilarious song about love and boating to a triceratops and a T Rex:

I wanna go kayaking
Gonna make you my kayak king
What a lovely life as your aquatic wife
When we go kayaking

You'll be the jack of hearts
The handsome captain called Bogart
Kissing me, the young Hepburn
As we learn to share the stern

I wanna go kayaking
Gonna make you my kayak king
We'll grow old together
We'll have skin like leather
As we go kayaking

two stories of parenthood

2009-02-23T13:07:00.000-08:00

I drove Archie to work today and he told me about something he saw in the grocery store a while back. There was a woman on her cellphone, and he overheard her side of the conversation:

Woman: You spent the entire iTunes card? [pause] The whole thing? [pause] On what? [pause} Twilight? You spent the whole thing on Twilight?

This was when Archie laughed and he said the woman kind of looked around and then went back to her conversation with her teenage daughter, based on her side of the talk. And it reminded me of something that happened ages ago back before Archie and I had kids.

We were in a Blockbuster. As we walked around, looking for movies, we heard a child, whining to her mother and the mother saying no, repeatedly, and more and more resigned to the no. While we stood on line, we couldn't help but notice that the woman in front of the line was the same beleaguered mother we'd heard during our browsing -- we could tell because the whining child was next to her, continuing to whine. Finally, the daughter said, "You don't looooove me!" Now, let me describe the little girl to you. She was probably about four or five and adorable. She had on red patent leather Mary Janes and ruffly socks and a cute little dress and, from appearances, was very much loved. (Also, the fact that her mother was toeing the line and not giving in and also not tearing the child limb-from-limb was also a good indication that her mom loved her.) I couldn't help myself: I laughed out loud. The mother looked around and everyone in the line was laughing at the ridiculousness of that little girl declaring that she was unloved.

The mom looked at the child and said, "See? People are laughing at you!" And I laughed even harder.

I don't think it's very nice to tell your kid that people are laughing at them, but I certainly understand the impulse. You sometimes will grab hold of anything to help you be strong in the face of the never-ending whine. But I also love that the woman that Archie saw in the grocery store is our future. It just remains to be seen what will so captivate our future teenage daughters that they will spend an entire large iTunes card. Hopefully it won't be vampires, but who knows?

michael phelps

2009-02-05T23:32:00.000-08:00

So now we know the REAL reason he was eating over ten thousand calories a day. Stoner had the munchies!

shoes

2009-02-02T08:49:00.000-08:00

I took the girls to get some new kicks yesterday. Archie was less than impressed that I was headed out on a Sunday afternoon, but I reminded him that it would probably be more than fine since it was Superbowl Sunday, thus most people would be at home, drinking beer and preparing to watch the football. What better time to go out and about for a while?

We found shoes for all the girls (and I kept thinking how much easier it is -- even when they all have opinions and stuff -- than when they were younger and it was a mad dash in for measurements and me picking out shoes and trying them on and paying and hoping no one had a meltdown -- including me). Shodding three young children at the same time is not for the timid. But picking out shoes for three school-age kids? While there are still some minor snags (see above: opinions), it's mostly do-able and mostly fun, which is such an improvement, I can't even be bothered to protest most of the opinions.

So, the girls had picked out their shoes and Lou's skate shoes were so cute, I decided to see if they had them in adult sizes. And they did! And then I saw them in another color. I asked the girlies what they thought and they all piped up with, "Those are cute, too, Mama -- pick a pair!"

And I said, "Where have I gone wrong? You are not supposed to tell me I have a choice. You are all supposed to enable my love of shoes by telling me they are both really cute and I should get both pairs! Because I deserve two pairs of cute shoes, dontcha know?"

So we got a grand total of five pairs, because the girls got with the program.

yet another reason i love my husband

2009-01-27T15:30:00.000-08:00

The phone just rang.

Me: Hello?
Archie: Oh, this wasn't the number I wanted to call.
Me: I love you too, sweetheart.
Archie: I love you. Now I have to see if I can get that 900 number I was trying to reach...
Me: Say hi to Tiffany for me.
Archie: Will do.
Me: [giggling] I love you.
Archie: [laughing] I love you, too. See you in a few hours.

confusing the children

2009-01-22T15:33:00.000-08:00

Archie just asked Elizabeth what she's studying in school.

"The metric system, Daddy."

"That's good. Make sure you pay attention and learn it well because the U.S. is converting to metric in 1977."

Bebe looked confused and I just laughed and laughed.

an epiphany of love

2009-01-06T09:31:00.000-08:00

I had a real and lasting epiphany when the twins were about a week old. I know it was an epiphany because I still remember it, almost ten years later. I remember it vividly. The one thing you need to know before I relate the story is that my mom and I had a little tradition where she would say, "I love you." I'd answer, "I love you more." And she'd say, "I love you the most!" But, really, I always knew we loved each other the same, because how could she really love me more? We loved each other and it was a funny thing we'd say to each other.

So, the twins were a week old. I was beyond exhausted. The best way I can describe my level of tiredness was I would wake up and be kind of surprised that I wasn't dead. Because I was so tired I should have been dead. I read an article where a woman said she felt like she'd been boxing and been knocked out and she just felt pummeled -- physically and emotionally. That description works, too.

Anyway, it was some ungodly hour and I'd just gotten a screaming baby out of the crib and changed her diaper and then I broke down. I was standing over this little new person sobbing. That ugly sobbing, where you hiccup and the tears and snot are flowing. My mom was staying with us to help out and she came into the living room and she didn't say a word, she just hugged me. And I kept crying and trying, while sucking in air between wails, to explain how tired I was, how ill-equipped I was to take care of these little people, how stupid and inadequate I felt, how fucking, fucking tired and worn out I was. How this was all complicated because I was absolutely, totally in love with these little girls. What came out was, "Waaaaah, I can't do this! How do I do this? I'm tired, Mommy. Waaaaaaah!"

My mom just held me and shushed at me and patted my back. I'm not sure how long it took, but I started to calm down. I took those big, shuddering breaths you take as you wind down from a huge crying jag. I snorfled. My mom said, "It will get better. It will. It will get better."

I said, "Thanks, Mommy." And she said, "I love you."

Of course, I said, "I love you more," and she said, "I love you the most."

And that was when it hit. That was when I knew, in a flash. I started blubbering as I cried out, "I know! I know you love me the most! Just like I love my girls the most!"

What I understood was not that my mom loves me more, but that she loves me in a completely different way than I love her. That I love my kids in a way that they will never really understand until they have their own kids. It's not a question of quantitative difference, but a qualitative difference. It's just a different type of love.

at the grocery store

2009-01-05T21:15:00.000-08:00

Cha likes to ride on the shelf underneath the grocery cart. Whatevs, as long as I'm not buying a huge package of toilet paper or several 12-packs of pop, I let her. Today, as I was staring at cheese in the deli aisle, she rattled the bars on the cart and cried, "No! Get me out of juvie!"

I just laughed and the woman standing a few feet away gave me the stinkeye. I guess because a six year old shouldn't know about juvie. But if you ask Charlotte, she'll tell you, "Juvie is kid jail."

I'm just broadening her vocabulary.

thank you, jake johannsen

2009-01-02T21:02:00.000-08:00

We were watching TV and there was a reference to Liberace. It reminded me of a bit that Jake Johanssen used to do about why he loved Liberace. I paraphrase:

Liberace was the Commandant of Flamboyancy. He was so fantastic because he was all that he could be. No one will ever come along and say, "That guy is like Liberace, only more so!" He was complete in his Liberace-itude.

packing away the holidays

2009-01-01T17:08:00.000-08:00

We took all the decorations off the tree. We put the stockings and the wreaths and the jingle bells away. We wound the lights up on their cardboard cards so they'll be tidy and ready for next Christmas. We also tucked the new Nativity set I found into the ornament box for its debut next season.

Archie took the tree outside and hacked it up. Meanwhile, I swept up the needles. And swept. And swept. And swept some more. And then vacuumed.

That damn tree made some really ugly water marks on the floor, too.

last day of 2008

2008-12-31T17:39:00.000-08:00

We've got hugely unhealthy bacon appetizers in the oven, all the girls are loaded down with new books (courtesy of their grandma), and there are lots of chocolate desserts on hand. The twins are excited about staying up until midnight, even if their parents would rather turn in a little earlier. Cha is gonna try her best to stay awake, but she'll probably only last 'til nine or so.

It's been a good year. Here's to 2009 being just as good, with no major bad surprises.

when christmas songs and advertising collide

2008-12-30T15:45:00.000-08:00

There's this commercial -- it's just the music to "Silent Night" with lovely pictures of babies sleeping. Very sweet and the girls and I saw it today and we all made the appropriate ooh-ing and aw-ing noises. The small print at the end said, "pampers.com" and Elizabee sang, "Sleep in heavenly pee-ee/Sleep in heavenly pee."

I think the Pampers people missed out.

it has begun

2008-12-29T19:12:00.000-08:00

I've always tried to be kind and show some concern for my kids' privacy. Man, I have some hilarious stories, but I don't think it would serve anything to put them out onto the internet for anyone passing by to read. Because, maybe not now, but someday, they could prove to be embarrassing. And, as we all know, the embarrassing stories must be saved for future meetings with dates. There is tradition to uphold.

Also, as I've told other people, I don't really want to stumble across my kids' websites or blogs and read about what an evil, awful witch of a mother I am. This is why I don't give in to the momentary urge to ever talk about what terrible, horrible, misbehaved children I have. They have their moments, like all people, but mostly they are fantastic and wonderful. Plus, sometimes they're tired or hungry or just having a bad day. I have bad days -- I wouldn't necessarily want them memorialized for all eternity.

All of this has been brought to the forefront because the twins have requested to set up their own blogs. Oy. Here's hoping they keep in mind that a momentary rush of revenge is not good for the long-term mother/daughters relationships.

a shaggy dog story

2008-12-28T11:10:00.000-08:00

We took the girls to see Marley & Me. Lulu and Beebs had read the book (which had been edited for children) and they were dying to see the film.

It's cute. Who doesn't love a dog story? I'm sure lots of people find it barely a step up from sitcom-ville with a manipulative ending. Whatever. All of us enjoyed it -- we laughed and cried. Yes, there is great catharsis in crying, especially when one of your daughters is sobbing next to you and it's not because of anything related to her life. That, for me, the Queen of Sobbing Sentimentality, is pure heaven. Here, have a napkin, Lou. We'll sniffle together. I love you.

(It should be noted that Bebe was tearful, as well, and Archie held her hand, even if he didn't share in her crying. This is a big step for a guy who laughs at me when I recount some story I've heard and get choked up in the re-telling. Charlotte was kind of bemused being surrounded by all of us blubbering. She is her father.)

Also, this movie proved that I am becoming some old prude. There are several parts where we are to understand that Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston's characters are going to get down to some love of a physical nature. And I was charmed that we never had to witness it, really. A thrown pillow, a camera tracked upwards. Suggestion instead of showing. It made me very, very happy. Possibly because we had a six year old and I didn't want to have to explain.

A day later, we were all talking about our favorite parts of the movie. Cha said, "I liked when they were having romance in the swimming pool and Marley just swam by them." Having romance? So cute.

ddr

2008-12-27T09:48:00.000-08:00

Man, Dance Dance Revolution is already a huge favorite with the twins. They're playing right now and there is nothing more amusing than one of them on the mat and the other next to her doing it together.

OK, there is one thing funnier. Lou was really having trouble getting the wrist flicks down. Bebe came through by showing her how to hold the controller and nunchuk and doing a modified sideways wrist snap. Lou yelled, "Oh! Like a temple strike!" Bebe agreed, "Yeah -- just like in karate."

So, that's my holiday tip to you to improve your DDR play -- pretend that you're striking someone with a karate chop to the head.

where i almost became john cleese

2008-12-26T11:42:00.000-08:00

The theme of this holiday season for me is apparently WWII.

Last week we were at a party. Living in the Bay Area, there are a lot of different people -- Russians, Brits, various nationalities of Asians, Aussies. This party was no exception. I was trying to tell one of the Brits about a segment of Ricky Gervais' stand-up we'd seen on HBO.

Oh, hell, have a look at his take on sharks and Nazis.

I was trying to explain this and a guy I didn't know at all had joined our little group. After the rest of us had finished laughing at "sharks are brilliant; Nazis are rubbish," the new guy jumped into the conversation and we all realized that he was, in fact, German. D'oh.

Archie told me later it was a good thing I didn't decide to reenact "The Germans" episode of of Fawlty Towers, complete with goose stepping and cries of, "I'm just trying to make the Kraut laugh!"

I swear, I don't have a head injury that I'm aware of.

the merriest

2008-12-25T19:55:00.001-08:00

Whispers and pitter pats. Up at dawn to rip into the presents. Happy playing; minor tussles. Good friends coming to share a meal where every item had some butter in it. Naps as kids dance, dance, revolution. Pie, pie, pie, pie -- which kind of pie? Have some of each because Christmas comes but once a year. So eat four pieces of pie!

And then to bed to look forward to making merry again.

germans in arizona on christmas eve

2008-12-24T16:30:00.000-08:00

There was a large POW camp in Papago Park during WWII. One subset of the prisoners were commanders and crew from U-boats. They wanted to escape, to Mexico, where they thought there would be people sympathetic to their plight.

They started to dig a tunnel. They told the guards a story -- that they were making volleyball courts. And they had a stroke of luck -- they had obtained a map. There was a river on the map -- the Salt River -- which led into the Gila River, which fed into the Colorado. They could take this route, if they built a boat, all the way to Mexico. They wouldn't have to hump the distance by foot!

So, they also built the pieces of a boat. And late on the night before Christmas Eve, the other prisoners celebrated with loud singing and merry-making to cover the fact that a large number -- somewhere between 25 and 40 -- of men were escaping from the camp through the tunnel to hike to the Salt River to assemble the pieces of the boat and begin their journey to the border.

If you know anything about the Phoenix area in the winter, though, you might have an inkling at what happened next. The Germans escaped and made it to the Salt River, only to find that it was dry. That was a blow, but they pushed on to the Gila. Which was mostly dry -- just some puddles. On the morning of Christmas Eve, the Germans were facing cold and the only water was drizzling rain.

Meanwhile, back at the camp, their escape had gone unnoticed until the first of the Germans walked back to Phoenix and started to turn themselves in. A few holed up in caves and other outcroppings for a few days, but the official story is that all of them were eventually rounded up and ensconced safely back in the POW camp.

It's like Hogan's Heroes in reverse!

only since i was 18

2008-12-23T12:28:00.000-08:00

Archie was admiring the lovely diamond earring in my right ear the other day. Then he turned my head so he could watch the one in my left ear twinkle. He said, "Huh. How long have you had that second earring in your left ear?"

"Only since I was 18."

Don't let anyone tell you there aren't surprises to be had after 15 years of marriage.