Baaoon Mama... Baaoon!

99 dreams I have had
In every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standin' pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go
-- 99 Red Balloons Nena

Whenever I hear this song I think back to my youth, and get a sense of freedom and joy, an overwhelming desire to spin.

That desire popped, much like a balloon, as soon as I learned that we are depleting our helium reserves in the U.S., and the helium balloon, that amazing anti-gravity children's toy, may not be around for my grandkids. Imagine not seeing the wonder in a baby's face as he tries to figure out why this thing goes up... instead of down.

Helium is non-renewable and irreplaceable. There are pockets of the gas in Colorado, Kansas and Oklahoma and Russia has large pockets of natural gas, helium included, but there has not been a push to extract it. Further, a great deal of Helium is lost in the process of separating it from oil and natural gas. As the oil and gas are brought out of the ground, the Helium comes with them, but it is not captured as it releases, so it drifts up into the atmosphere and ... away. The world's largest pocket of Helium is located in the Texas Panhandle, and at our current rate of use, that reserve will be depleted by 2015.

In personal terms, this means Monkey will probably not have a balloon arch at her prom, and Otter may not be choosing a balloon from a vendor at a carnival by the time he is eight.

Helium can be produced directly in nuclear fusion reactors, and is an indirect side effect of fisson reactors, but the amount created by both these sources don't begin to reach our current use. Basically, it has taken billions of years for the Earth to create our Helium stores, so it's not really a build on demand kind of resource.

Helium can be recycled, and the larger industries users, such as NASA, do recycle it. However, any Helium released into the atmosphere is lost to the Earth forever, and there are no small users currently recycling the gas. To learn more, read up on the issue.

If we are not careful with our Helium, we will be waving goodbye to a childhood tradition, in addition to a scientific resource. This is such a amazing substance, with nothing else like it on earth. It is our connection to the unbelievable, the fantastic, the magical. Let's do our best to keep it around.

"Bbvvoomm... Ma ma na... Baavmmm"

Out of the mouths of babes...

One of my favorite parts of motherhood is listening to the really crazy things that come out of my kids mouths. For example, when Monkey was 3, she was overheard saying "Where is the fucking trash can?" because her father and I hadn't quite curbed our language enough. She has since learned not to say certain words, though she is fond of saying she can't say them. "I know I can't say damnit right mom? I can't say damnit right? I am not supposed to say Damnit 'cause it's a bad word, right Mom?" Oh yeah, she's a lawyer's kid. We have already had the "dam" v.s. "damn" discussion, and she is six. So, whattaya gonna do? Anyway, as Otter is beginning to speak, and Monkey is a font of interesting turns of phrase, I thought I would share a few of the odd conversations I have had this week.

"Is the baby hungry? Does Otter want some milk?" said I, in a disgustingly cute sing-song voice guaranteed to bring bile to the mouths of anyone overhearing me. "Can Otter say milk? Mama milk? Mama milk?"
"bbvvmm...... Boob" said Otter, repeating the word we have somehow all adopted to refer to breastmilk and patting me on the chest. Oh yeah, that one totally backfired on me, I am going to have the only one year old asking for boob. Great. Really, this will go over well in the more Stepford sections of my town. I am so glad I failed to listen to my friends when they warned me not to refer to breastmilk as something I didn't want the kids repeating. Head-slam-desk.

Anyway, onto a little Monkey magic:
"Mom, I don't know why, but Eric, not second grade Eric in Miss Galloway's class but the other Eric, you know, the blonde Eric? Not the one that pushed me down last week at the playground but the other one? The one that's been chasing me around at recess? Him? That Eric?"
"Yes Monkey, okay, what about Eric?" said a very exasperated and throughly lost Mommy.
"Well I don't know why but he said he loves to hear me scream because it's music to his ears, but I am still faster than him." said a proud and oddly flattered Monkey.
"Great, either he really likes you, or he is a future serial killer. Just tell your teacher if he bothers you or scares you okay?" I said, freaked out a little at the scream statement (not too freaked out, I know the kid and his mom and I am sure he is just being a weird kid, but still).

More Monkey Madness;
"Mommy, what is an umbrella stroller?" asked Monkey.
"It's a stroller that folds up and can be carried on your arm like an umbrella." I said while going for drive-thru ice cream.
"Oh.. I thought it was a stroller with an umbrella, I bet it's really heavy." Monkey responded.
"Not really," said her father "but what shape are the wheels do you think?"
"Uh... round Daddy. They wheels are round." said Monkey, with a credible teenage What color is the red bus tone in her voice.
"Are you sure they aren't square?" he persevered.
"Square wheels don't roll Dad, square wheels don't roll." answered Monkey, in the exact same tone as Bruce Willis in Pulp Fiction when he said 'Zed is dead baby, Zed is dead.'
We lost it, which had her repeating it ad nauseum in the hopes she would crack us up again.

There are more, but at this point, they are all melding into long conversation in my head so I am going to log off and go to bed. Have a good night everyone!!

Weekly Winners

It's time to make a wish:

For more Weekly Winners visit Here.
For more of my Weekly Winners visit Here.

West Point

Today Dad and I took the kids up to West Point for a short tour and a look at a solid bit of American Military history. We drove up the Palisades Parkway and through what I am sure is lovely scenery when luscious and alive, instead of dry and dead. The drive was pleasant, the baby slept most of the ride there, and Monkey was in high spirits, playing "I Spy" and singing along with the radio.

We stopped in Highland Falls and went into the Visitors Center and the Museum. Monkey really enjoyed looking at all the heavy artillery, and loved going around with her Da looking at the swords, muskets, canons, and tanks. We saw a diorama of the Battle of Saratoga, a civil war field doctor's kit, a WWII field doctors kit, and a myriad of other tools of war. Then we ate at Suzie's, a little restaurant boasting 371 Hot Dog topping combinations (including one called the Lithuanian, containing mashed potatoes and sauerkraut) and 54 separate Hamburger combinations. I, of course, had a dog with relish and mustard (apparently called a 'sweet dog') and cheese fries. These fries turned out to be the best cheese fries I have ever had. A warm plate of potato slices friend crispy and then slathered in cheese, salt and spices. It may even be worth the two hour drive to go back there is summer and consume more of these tasty little fries.

After lunch we went onto West Point, took a short tour through the campus, and then the kids and I hung out in the cafeteria area while Dad conducted his interview with the Assistant Dean.

We snapped a ton of pictures of the gray castle like structures and surrounding Hudson, but my computer is turtle-esqe tonight, so I can't load them. Here instead is a picture of Monkey and Da in front of the Abrams Gate:

They make you pay...

My mother always used to say that she really paid for it anytime she left the house without her kids (namely... well, me and my brother.) She would go out for an evening of wine and frivolity and inevitably return to stomach flu, or a head injury, or weeks of clinging, needy children.

I always thought my mother had a flair for the dramatic. There was no way we were that bad.

Ha.... ha ha .... HA!

I got home from many wonderful hours in NYC with my Dad, lost in the humorous and magical world of Broadway's SPAMALOT. I was calm, mellow, relaxed. I had conversations uninterrupted by the anyone chirping the word "Mommy?". It was divine.

Then they made me pay.

The baby nursed...forever. Okay understandable, and snuggly, and cute.

I can deal.

Then came bedtime, and the screaming, kicking, crying thirty or so minutes of torment devised by my six year old. You see... she had something in her eye. She needed some Visine to help get it out. However, she didn't want me to put the Visine into her eye, so after much screaming and fighting, I agreed to give up and let her go to sleep without Visine. This decision resulted in thirty or so minutes of screaming, kicking, and crying about how much she needed the Visine.

Sigh.

Then, the cat threw up in the laundry room.

And my bedroom.

And her bedroom.

And the Living Room.

Right... and under my desk where I stepped in it when sitting down to blog.

Because my mom is not overly dramatic. She is right.

They really do make you pay.

A Marlena Moment....

We were watching National Geographic's Six Degrees could change the world last night. Monkey was really interested in watching it, and begged to be allowed to stay up. We agreed to let her watch the first hour.

She was really upset by the possible effect of global warming. We explained to her that this was a projection, and one that would occur after her lifetime, but she was still worried.

When I asked her what she was worried about, she told me she was really worried about Otter. I asked why. She said she wanted him to grow up and have a full and happy life, and she was afraid that wouldn't happen if global warming got too bad.

I was incredibly touched by her concern for her brother. I think it's funny that she views herself to be so much older than him that she doesn't have the same concern for herself, but it is very sweet to be so worried for him.

I explained to her that she and Otter should both be able to grow up without these intense environmental conditions, but while I was doing so, I realized I could no longer make the soothing assertion that their children could as well. We will likely see the increased storms and drought conditions, along with some of the other scary climate changes, within our children's lifetimes, as for their children, who knows?

I don't see our world making the necessary changes in the immediate future, there are still people out there who don't believe there is anything going on.

The Argument...

The scene opens on a slightly cluttered but serene living room where a young girl watches television. She is about fifteen minutes into a half hour episode of the Wonder Pets. A contented mother is peeling apples in the kitchen, with a baby crawling around at her feet...

"Monkey, after The Wonderpets are over, you have to go clean your room." I say from the kitchen, where I am tackling an apple pie.

"Okay Mom!! I will." She happily responds, adding the finishing touches to her latest work of art.

Twenty or so minutes later, after hearing Monkey happily run upstairs to begin cleaning, I curiously poke my head back into the living room, having noticed the top of her head pop up from the depths of the couch.

"Monkey, why aren't you cleaning your room? Didn't I say you needed to go clean it after Wonder Pets?

"Look!" she says happily, pointing to the t.v."It's still on, there was another one." She settles back into the couch, confident in the security of her position.

Sigh. "Honey, turn off the television and go clean your room please."

"But Mom! You said after the Wonderpets!"

"I meant after the last Wonderpets, and you knew that, as you went upstairs to clean when it was over. Please stop delaying and go clean your room, you have been putting this off all weekend."

"Okay Mom." She grumbles, shooting me a look that clearly indicates I am currently playing the role of Evil Stepmother in her personal daytime soap opera.

About thirty minutes later, after following the faint jumping sounds into the living room...

"Monkey honey, what are you doing downstairs? Aren't you supposed to be cleaning your room?

"But Mom! I am not watching T.V.!!" She says as she hops lightly from foot to foot, clearly engaged in an invisible game of hop scotch.

Shaking off the tangent, I point out the obvious "True, but you are also not upstairs cleaning your room."

"But I am NOT watching T.V.!!" She sallies back, hands now resting on her hips, in an unconscious mimicry of me at my most irritated.

"I agree. However, you are NOT upstairs cleaning your room." I respond, fearing that maybe in my sleep I began speaking French or Russian and am therefore no longer communicating in a language she can understand.

"MOM! I AM NOT WATCHING T.V.!!" She yells, stamping her foot at the unfairness of the universe in general and me in particular.

"Monkey" I exclaim, much closer to a bellow than I like to get "You will go upstairs now and clean your room or there will be no play-date with Mariah tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"Oh!! Yes mom!" She says as she dashes up the steps into her Cinderella role once again, finally having enough motivation to tackle her most hated chore.

Montage Monday

I apologize for the odd technical difficulties earlier, the montage is back online.

montage |mänˈtä zh; mōn-; mō n-|
noun

• the technique of producing a new composite whole from fragments of pictures, text, or music.

ORIGIN early 20th cent.: French, from monter ‘to mount.’



I am a picture junkie, and I love to capture images of everything, I thought it would be fun to put some of my random images into a montage, add some yummy song lyrics, and show it all to you! Aren't you lucky?

You are about to be luckier, you get to answer a poll! (Look over there ------})

Monkey reads to Otter...

A comedian in the making...

Monkey has always worked hard to win a laugh. Sadly, she has been summarily unsuccessful with intentional humor. She has reduced us to giggles accidentally on a regular basis, but she hasn't been able to turn her comedic yearnings into any laughter through jokes.

She cracked us up in the car on the way back from Virginia Beach when I indicated to Lee that it was time to nurse the baby by saying "My boobs feel like they are going to explode."
Monkey giggled and tried to sympathize with me by saying "I know mommy, I feel like my butt is going to explode."
The unexpected nature of the comment mingled with the inevitable bathroom humor had Lee and I laughing for quite a while. Monkey was pleased with the unintended result, but kept trying to re-create it. "My elbow is going to explode", "my shoulder is going to explode", "my foot is going to explode." We tried to explain what had made her comment so funny, but she didn't quite get it.

Which is why I am pleased to announce that Marlena has successfully produced her first funny original joke.

She is battling asthma, and when an episode comes on, it usually begins with a great deal of coughing. She is often hit with coughing fits before bedtime, as she usually gets an episode late in the evening.

The other night I was waiting to tuck her in while she fought her way through a particularly long coughing fit. When it was over she sat up, looked at me, made a weird face, and pretended to pull something out of her mouth.

"Ick. Furball." She said, holding out the pretend hair ball.

I lost it. It was the funniest thing she had every said, and it was intentional. She gleefully and skillfully seized her opportunity to create a well timed joke. I am so proud of her. It took a lot of thought to create a funny moment out of an asthma episode.

My little girl is beginning to develop comedic timing, and an understanding of humor. It is another sign that she is growing up.

Out of the mouths of babes...

Monkey and I were discussing her new hairdo today.
Monkey sighed, solemnly shook her head, and said "Mom, I can't stand it."

Thinking I had done her a huge disservice by allowing her to cut off her hair and thereby giving her a hairstyle she couldn't stand I frantically began to think of ways to make her feel better about her "do".

There was no need, she followed up her statement with:
"I am just so cute!"
Looks like the hairdo has increased her self esteem.

Oh! And check this out!! Thank you mom and dad for the hourglass figure!! World, I love my thighs!!!

A feel good sacrifice...

Monkey has a new look.

You may remember her previous look:


See the gorgeous long locks of hair cascading down her back?

They are no longer.

This is Monkey now:



Yup, she did it. She donated her long locks to Locks of Love. Isn't she sleek and gorgeous?
She has been talking about doing so for a while, but has not been ready to part with her mane until now. This morning, while chanting "Rats get out of my hair!" during our morning hair brushing, she decided it was time to try a lower maintenance do. Off to the mall we went, where her hair was brushed out, tied into ponytails, and ruthlessly snipped. She had a lot of hair on that little noggin, so two thick ponytails are now tied up for shipment.


She is very happy with her decision and her sacrifice, especially because another little girl became interested in donating when she saw Monkey getting her hair cut. She was very happy that she was helping kids and inspiring others to help kids.

We are very proud of her for her decision, and I look forward to mornings that aren't filled with the dreaded hair detangling.

Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure...

And then there are the kisses you discover your 6 year old sharing with her 6 year old friend when he's over to stay the night.
Marlena and Simon were upstairs, playing in her dress up trunk, like they have a thousand times. This time however, they were pretending to be married, because my darling child is obsessed with kissing.
She and I have had many discussions about how mommies and daughters don't share romantic kisses, brothers and sisters don't share romantic kisses, and that she is too young for a romantic kiss.
She sees kissing all around her. When we take her to see Harry Potter she sees kissing, when she watches The Princess Bride or Star Wars she sees kissing. Then she, being a method actor in the extreme, wants to see what all the fuss is about. Regardless of the conversations we have had about kissing, my daughter bravely forges ahead, to try out this kissing nonsense on Simon.
Why him? Because I am sure in a moment of idiocy I explained why you don't try to romantically kiss your 3 month old brother by stating those kisses are reserved for boys, when she is older.
Well, Simon is a boy, and now, she is older.

The two of them in particular have had an increasing aura of suspiciousness about them over the last few months, and his mom and I have been keeping a closer eye on them, we just didn't realize their playfulness and curiosity had gotten to the point of kissing!

Ack! Sadly, this means no more overnights between Ellen's kids and mine. It has been coming for a while, this need to separate the girls and the boys, but it is the end of an era.

I now have a Girl. A Girl who knows which of her friends is a Boy, and is aware enough of the differences that she wants to kiss him. And lock the door to her room while she does it.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Especially when you have children.
Children are loving, snuggly, persnickity, perverse little wretches.
Today we planned to go to the beach. We were supposed to leave the house at 9:30 this morning in order to catch the sea before high tide and meet Ellen and Tiff.
We woke up early, with an hour and a half to spare, and I gave Marlena her requested breakfast of apples and peanut butter and cereal. I told her we only had an hour and a half before we had to leave to meet our friends at the beach for a day of swimming and fun. She excitedly jumped around and then asked to play on the Xbox.
"Er... no," I said. ""You need to eat your breakfast, so we can go to the beach."

And here is where the good deed is punished. Sad that she was not allowed to spend the hour before the beach on the Xbox, Marlena defiantly settled at the table, set her ankles up on it, and slowly, painfully picked up a single frosted mini wheat, and began to gnaw delicately on it's edge.

Sighing and shaking my head, I went about my packing of snacks, dressing of baby, and otherwise preparing to spend the day doing something fun with my children. Occasionally I would toss out to Marlena that she needed to eat, as I would not be spending six dollars on a crappy piece of pizza on the boardwalk if she failed to fill up on breakfast. I would also not be getting her fast food.

An hour passed. It was 15 minutes until departure time. She had managed to consume about 5 frosted mini wheats, and one apple slice. Argh.

Finally I told her to finish getting ready. She meandered up stairs, spent about 20 minutes in the bathroom without managing to brush her teeth, and only when I yelled up "If you are not ready and down here in ten minutes we are NOT GOING!!" did she actually scurry to brush her teeth and hair, and put on her shoes.

Of course, by now I was grumpy, having spent the morning dealing with She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Fed, instead of getting to engage in the excitement of beach trip preparation.

About 10 minutes into the drive the comments started:
"Ooh..a Wendy's!" "Look mom! A McDonald's." "Mom, can I get Ice cream?"

I just don't get it. Why, why on earth, would she decide to goad me to the point of canceling the trip?? Does she like me in a bad mood? Argh! Of course, my mood was not improved by carting the huge bag of supplies, beach umbrella, and baby to the beach. Nor was I cheered by the bouts of crying Oliver engaged in. I did cheer up when Marlena, Oliver, and I went down to the water and splashed a bit. Pictured here:



It was also nice to see the kids splashing, and to hang out, however briefly, with Ellen and Tiff.

However, the trip was fairly stressful for me. I swear, I am at the point where leaving the house at all is simply too much trouble. Maybe I will become a hermit.

A morning of cuteness...

This morning Oliver settled on the couch next to Marlena and watched an episode of Dirty Jobs, Marlena's favorite show. (Lee has trained her to say that she needs to finish school and go to college so she can choose whether or not she wants to have a Dirty Job. It's pretty funny.)



The siblings enjoyed an early morning snuggle together for about half an hour, until Oliver was ready for second breakfast.

Our house is so comfy. The house is large enough that the dogs seem smaller, we seem smaller. As Devon put it, the house is actually to scale for us.

It is nice to wake up in a pleasant room with plenty of space for one's things. For the past year we lived in a dark tiny cramped space infested with ants and owned by two people who were determined to squeeze every dime they could out of us and not give much in return. Now we live in a huge open space, well lit, with gleaming hardwood floors and spanish tile. Sunlight streams in through the many windows, skylights, and glass paned doors.

Our current landlords are kind people. They are interested in making sure we are getting everything we need, and are willing to make necessary changes and repairs quickly and efficiently. They are also really nice, I like them a lot and look forward to working with them in the future.

We are almost finished setting up our bedroom/Oliver's room. It is a large space, but hard to capture on film. Nonetheless, as picutres were requested by a certain preggosaurus, I tried. (Everyone knows, you never turn down the request of a preggosaurus.)
Here is our bed and my dresser. To give you an idea of the size of the room, our bed is a King size, and has always been the item of furniture that turns rooms into timy spaces with no walking room. It fits neatly along one wall, next to my huge antique dresser, and leaves room for two end tables and a dog bed.

Our bathroom is through that white door there, it is green marble and burgandy paint. Mmmm.... Green and red, Lee's and my favorite colors. Oliver's changing station and storage are located on this wall. There is still plenty of space in the center of the room, and no sense of being cramped walking between the bed and the rest of the room.

Lee's dresser is on the wall with the crib, between the bathroom door and the door to our other room, which we have deemed the sitting/hangout room. It is larger than our bedroom. We haven't set it up yet, but soon it will have a couch, our T.V., our Apple T.V. system, a rocking chair, and our closet in it. Off to one side is a kitchenette and laundry room, where we have set up the cats. We plan to keep water and beverages up there, along with any non communal snacks.

Downstairs we have set up the kitchen, the office, and the living room. I have a photo of the living room, but the light was too odd to get the other rooms at the moment, so you will have to wait for those.

The house is really long, so all our rooms are set up such to allow flow through the whole thing. It is pretty calming and definately a comfortable set up.

Ah... I hear the strident tones of a certain young man. Thanks to all who responded to my Bar Exam rant, I appreciate the thoughts and insight.

Now we are six...


Oh the time flies. On a Friday the 13th in July, six years ago, I gazed down at a 9 pound 1 and a half ounce infant with awe and shock that something so small and perfect could belong to me. I fed her, snuggled her, watched her play with her first balloon, saw her read her first newspaper with Da, and made up lullabyes. I rocked her to sleep in a rocking chair, and cuddled her to sleep on the couch, often napping with her. I took piles of photographs of her with her fuzzy duckling hair, her rock star baby sunglasses, her deep blues eyes, and her rosy cheeks. I co-slept with her for years, I nursed her for a year and a half. I took her to the mall's play area (affectionately deemed the petri dish) and watched as she scrambled around on waffles and bacon. I danced with her to Laurie Berkner and ran with her at the park. I watched my mother play endless fairytale games with her.



I helped her crawl and then walk. I gave her her first and only baby food (peas) and her fist adult food (Split pea soup). I gave her boy toys and girl toys, and felt I had done well when she declared that she wanted to be a boldozer driver when she grew up, while all the girls around her wanted to be princesses.

I sang with her to song after song, hung masterpiece after masterpiece on the fridge, and watched improvised dance moves performed in my living room. I took her swimming for the first time, read her stories, took her to law school clases (where she raised her hand and participated more than once), and watched her grow.



And here we are, six. She can read and write, and keeps several diaries full of her secret thoughts. She wants to be a lawyer when she grows up and plays with her case files while watching Legally Blonde (her favorite movie). She is a big sister, who can help care for a baby, no longer being one herself. She will be entering the first grade in a few months. She held hands with a boy at her birthday party, and she is currently sitting across from my office at her own desk answering her own email.



How fast it all goes.

Thank you to everyone who sent her emails. She was thrilled to get her own phone and email account, and loved that she already had so many messages. She is trying to respond to all of them, but has to hunt and peck, so it may be a while.

So many boxes, so little time...

We have too much stuff. Too many boxes littering the garage, the POD, and the house!! Argh! To make things worse, it is hot, hot, HOT. Oh, and did I mention Muggy? That's right, we are getting closer to the time of year in NJ when the heat and humidity combine to punch you unpleasantly in the face when you leave your house. At least we have AC in the new place.

Unfortunately we are discovering that life on the east coast is a major pain in the a*&. We can't get rid of the garbage generated from our last move. We are facing a crisis here, as the boro won't accept the boxes unless they are packed as recyclables, they won't accept more than three cans worth of thrash on pickup day, and the one hauler we got a hold of wants to charge us $475 to remove our stuff. I HATE IT HERE!!
Back home you can just lug it to the landfill, hand them a 20, and dump it. Not here, no... they have 4000 different municipalities, and ours doesn't have their own landfill.

Mutter mutter. Shake it off.

On the Oliver front:

This young man needed a new wardrobe, as he has outgrown all the newborn, 3-6, and 6-9 month clothing so lovingly given us by our friends and family. Luckily I caught a bunch of summer clothes on clearance at Target, and managed to secure him some dappper baby attire at minimal cost. Still, 3 months old and heading into 12 month old clothes? My baby is a tall and strong young man, soon he will be moving furniture for us.

Marlena has loved playing with her brother, and had begun to ape me with her own baby doll. For her birthday she got a baby play gym and carrier for her dolly and has been caring for "Alina" while I care for Oliver. It's pretty cute. She has also been reading bedtim stories to him. Oliver loves to hear her read, and watches her face the whole time with wide, excited eyes. Here she is snuggling her brother.


Well I am off to mom's thing, and then back to the dreaded house to prepare some boxes for recycling. Sigh.

Oh how the time flies...

Marlena's 6th birthday party was a splash!

She and her friends spent hours in the splash park playing and running around. She pretended to blow out candles on this very windy day, and delved happily in to cake and Ice cream sandwiches. She opened gifts and laughed and smiled.
At one point, she and her friend Alex were strolling together across the field, and they reached out and held hands. His mom Melissa and I just looked at each other. Our babies first hand holding!!

Somewhere between July 13, 2001 and now, my little baby girl became a delicately beautiful young woman. I was amazed looking at some of the pictures of the party.

Simon helps Marlena with her headband:

Here she is dumping water over her head:

Here Marlena, Alexander, and Hannah play with one of the park's many water features:
Marlena, Simon, and Alex read a birthday card:

Marlena opens a present from Alexander. (Look at how incredibly lovely she is! She is getting so grown up! Where did all the baby fat in her face go?)

Hannah reads a card to Marlena:

This one breaks my heart. When did her lashes get so long and dark?
Marlena reads Gabriella's lovely handmade card: (When Gabriella gave it to her, she was so cute, she said "Oh I bet I know who this is from". Later on, she told me she knew it was from Gabriella because she recognized her style of drawing.)

Morgan, Mason, Alex, Simon, and Gabriella watch as Marlena ooh's and aah's over her present from Nama and Da. She has wanted an Aqua Doodle for a long time. Thanks Nama and Da!!

A birthday kiss from Mommy:

After all the presents were opened some of the party guests went home, but Marlena, Alex, and Gabriella went in for another round of splashing.
Marlena and Gabriella:


We had a great time and got lots of lovely pictures. Too many to post here. I will be emailing many of them to the apporpriate parties.

This friday we are taking her to dinner and to see the new Harry Potter. It is a really special birthday this year. Marlena was born on Friday the 13th and this is the first time her birthday has fallen on a friday since she was born. Therefore, since it is a double birthday, we are going to have two celebrations! At least. (She is finangling for one in Denver when we come home in August.)

A new deal...

The "Gimmies" are a real problem with children of a certain age. They want everything they see, even if it will ultimately end of on their floor crushed to pieces under your shoe.

We have tried a bunch of different ways to avoid the "Gimmies", from losing the ability to buy new gifts for a month, to only getting one "ask" per store visit, to yelling.

The problem is simple. Stores are filled with shelf after shelf of shiny attractive packages. It doesn't actually matter what's in them, it's the possibility that gets children asking for hemmoriod cream or packages of sponges. (At least I hope so.)

So Marlena and I talked after a bout of the gimmies today, and we decided on a new deal. We nixed both sticks and carrots, because after discussing them at length she said something that made me think.

I suggested we try the approach where she only gets to ask for one thing each time we are at the store, she said it wouldn't work. I asked her if it would help if she got to choose some of the groceries, like the cereal, milk, cheese, etc. She said if wouldn't work. I asked her what she thought would work and she said nothing, because even when she tried not to ask, there were too many things she wanted, and she couldn't help it.

So she can't help it. She is trying, she just literally can't stop herself from begging for everthing from Jergen's lotion to cookies.

Our new deal? I will try not to get mad when she asks for stuff, and she will try not to get upset when I say no.

I think this just might work.

Ooh! Hatchet! I am actually geekier than you are! (Eric still beats me though, and how could he miss the Han question?)
77% Geek

A day without screaming...

It's true! She woke up this morning and was cheerful! She put on Legally Blonde and let us sleep until after 10 am. I haven't done that is ages. She got her own breakfast of yogurt and cereal. Not a lot of food for a growing girl, but enough to tide her over until I woke up and got her a pile of fresh organic raspberries, watermelon, and bing cherries.

She was cheerful through Lee and I packing, through errand running, through leftovers (which she actually ate and requested I make every day) and through bathtime. She and I even splashed, played, and laughed while I washed her hair.
We sang the following to the tune of Macho Man during the hair rinsing:
Me: Monkey, monkey butt, my daughter has a monkey butt. Monkey, monkey butt, my Marlena has a monkey butt.
Marlena: Monkey, monkey butt, my mommy has a monkey butt. Monkey, monkey butt, my mommy has a monkey butt.
It may not be great lyrical styling, but boy does it make a 5 year old laugh. (Anything involving the word "butt" makes a 5 year old laugh, but the genius here is tying the word "butt" and the word "monkey" together. Irresistible.)

Of course, we haven't done bedtime yet, but I have high hopes for this evening. I think she may even brush her teeth!

Random kiddo picture: (Note the goony expression on Oliver's face. He obviously inherited my silly genes.)


Addendum: She went to bed without screaming!! It was a happy bedtime with story and song and tickles and snuggles and laughter!!