How did I get here? Letting the days go by, you say?

And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? Letting the days go by . . .

I can't stay awake anymore to blog my every thought . . . what happened to those days last year when I posted three or four times a week? Not that there are no things to post about, oh no, not here. Big stuff happens here. Ahem. Are you sitting up and taking notice? A certain toddler made a poo-poo in the potty. And this just in: farts are funny to little girls! Claire farts and then laughs maniacally, saying "I'm just a tootin' machine!" Hannah toots and says "toot" quite softly with a big smile on her face. Both know how to say excuse me, they just don't choose to. This is how I'll get them back for the flatulence of pregnancy - by memorializing their gas for all time on the internet! But more than the simple fun of farting we are seeing exponential growth in communication and understanding with Hannah and depth of analysis in Claire. I don't quite get how Hannah learned to copy her sister pretending to be asleep while she gets taken out of a car seat, but just like her sister, only the smile gives her away.  How could a child whose body works unevenly learn to falsely hold all her limbs slack until I have her tucked onto my shoulder to carry her in and then she giggles to tell me the game is over. We seem to be in one of those spells where the whole world changes moment by moment, each little girl learning something new about every 15 minutes. Frankly, I am a bit dizzy with all this activity.

In the last few days I have had to explain super heroes, plumbers, super hero plumbers, people who beg for money, homelessness, why brothers kill brothers (we watched the Lion King) and I've spent quite some time on how to pronounce S.  No wonder I am so tired!  We found ourselves sort of narrating the Lion King movie to explain things to Claire and to help Hannah keep any attention on it (actually it is OK if she is attending to other things, but I know she is tracking some of what she sees because she frequently mentions "bad guys" and I have to assume this comes from the movies.  I hope so, anyhow.)

. . . brothers don't always kill their brothers.  It's just that particular brother who is bad.  No, that is not why I don't talk to your uncle much.  No, I don't think either of your brothers will do anything like that to each other.

. . . it was a misunderstanding.  He didn't mean to break his Mama's heart and go away.


. . . and here the rains are coming so now the plants come back, and then the animals that eat plants.  See, now the prey have come back and the lions can eat their friends . . . well, the lions can eat.  Pass the popcorn, honey!

. . .

I am unnerved by many rather grownup behaviors that keep turning up around here . . .

Hannah took her first turn through the house in her big sister's toy high heels without crashing to the ground.  Her skinny little legs looked rather adult and Lord Honey took note that the shoes were high enough to tighten her calf muscles.  I am not entirely certain this is what her physical therapist meant when he said he preferred it if Hannah used a variety of types of footwear.

Claire keeps putting scantily clad Barbies on top of the toy piano. 

In two months Claire starts kindergarten. 

How did I get here? 

Haiku Friday: Home Ec. Dropout Blues

The matching dresses
so dainty and fresh last month
now have unmatched stains

crushing discontent
inverse of those ladies on
TV commercials

I do not smile when
laundry soap makes things sparkle
instead I just sigh

and hope that one day
I'll not dress the girls in silk
when they eat chocolate.

And I'll never know
the secrets of the happy
laundress who loves soap

WTF Wednesday: The boys in the band

Ah now, Hannah, let's sit down and read this Touch and Feel book, HIgh Five, with Julius and his Friends. You can read and do OT at the same time, wheeeeee.

Whoa WTF is that guy?

A bad guy you say? I think so too.

H, a fan of A, B, and C and a nice B-A-T-H

This post made it into the drafts folder about six weeks ago and never got further out than that. See what I mean about being a blogger who doesn't blog?

Doesn't she look all fresh and dewy? And yes, she is the same color as the bathtub, I can't really deny that. OK, there is a drool driblet on her chin. There often is. My husband is in denial. I tell him it is no longer age appropriate to drool, this means something else other than baby-ish-ness. She is two years, nine months and three weeks of age, roughly. We'll talk about this later, along with the lisp she has developed when she says "s" sounds. However, I don't think there is another child in her day care class who has complete mastery of the alphabet - upper and lower case, as she has for three months. So bite me, stroke, drool, and the horse you rode in on because we are here to kick your whoseewhatsee (this is a family blog, except when I feel like saying something more colorful). Please get some popcorn and enjoy the show.

Hello my lovelies!

I owe you guys, big time.  I have been a bad, bad blogger.  A good blogger may be many things, but most importantly - she blogs.  At least she shows up and posts appealing pictures.  A few of you have kindly, as requested, sent me the post that got away (it was very big, very juicy, really outstanding in every way - just like the fish that got away . . . except I didn't see it skipping off into the sunset waving the finger) and the nice thing to do would have been to say thank you by actually putting the post back up.  But since the last time I posted I have attended many weddings (three), had work keep me in the office until after 10:30 one night last week, I have taken the girls out for fun and wholesome activities involving fresh air, live music, and food from many cultures of the world  (we had one meal with food from the cuisine of El Salvador, Thailand, Vietnam, and Sudan) and we became so unfortunately full that we had to skip the churros (Basque churros, not Mexican churros) and the baklava of Bosnia (that really and truly was unfortunate as Bosnians really do know something very special about pastry).  So I have excuses, and they are many and varied.  But you didn't come here for excuses.   Let's give give you a look at what you really came here for.

reasons to log off yesterday

Blogger ate my post about Hannah's second round of constraint casting.  If anyone has it in their Google reader, will you send it to me?  Mo left a funny comment and that is all I have to go on . . .

These headlines were on the Yahoo home page. 

     How to make an autonomous, acrobatic spider robot for your kids


     Spiders will be the newest astronauts aboard the ISS


     Watch a hummingbird-shaped spy drone flutter around, steal your secrets

Mind you, these headline followed a story about a woman convicted of murdering her infant daughter in a kitchen appliance (the type that cooks food quickly).  I can't actually let those words appear on my blog.  Can. Not.  She was drunk and doesn't remember. 

Eoster: behold the power of a candy filled egg accompanied by plastic tat in large quantities

It may have begun as a Pagan celebration. Bells might fly from Rome to give French kids chocolate. I will possibly go to hell for giving out Easter cards with a cartoon style drawn bunny handing Christ on the cross a decorated oeuf saying "have an egg, you'll feel better." I suspected the Peeps and Hallmark folks had a hand in blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I don't know why I fell for it for all those years before I had kids but now I know: Easter was created by occupational therapists.