Miranda is thrilled to have been awarded her second stripe on her white belt in Kempo Karate class. We had been alerted ahead of time that today might be the THE day, so after every routine the instructor put her through, she would look at me with an inquisitive look, a smile and a questioning thumbs up? When I would respond with a thumbs up, she would give me two thumbs up and do a little dance. In some ways, the actual receipt of the stripe was almost anticlimactic.
Xavier? Well, he still doesn't have the attention span to get through the Karate class without mishap, so he was awarded only half a stripe. Still, that's enough that I don't get my belt confused with theirs when I am getting my karate outfit on (I only have one stripe -- surprisingly, the promotion requirements are much more stringent for the adult class.)
Sorry I didn't have time to BLOG last week. Xavier was under the weather, so I had to use my evenings to catch up on work.
Xavier and Miranda and I installed solar pagoda-style lights along our sidewalk over the weekend. It started out well, but by the time we finished, I was kind of surprised the neighbors had not called Social Services. First, Xavier got warm and thirsty enough that he started begging to "sit on your lap." I took him into the house to Adam, but his screams of anger and disappointment were more than audible outside the house. Miranda did a little better, but then when I was trying to dig a hole through rock to set the base for one of the lights, Miranda went lurching by using a couple of the light-posts as crutches; before I could stop her, she (of course) fell and scraped her leg. Final Score: two kids screaming in the house with Dad, one parent outside fuming.
But in the end, the lights look great and the kids are proud of their part in the fias- Oops! I mean "effort".
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Shear Artistry
Where else but in a movie can you have your hair done by a small man with using a sword as an instrument of beauty? Well, and at my house.
Xavier is also starting to rebel against the health food diet my husband lovingly prepares for us. As he offered to "color" my hair "chocolate cherry brown" (Where does he come up with this? I have never colored my hair), he asked me, "Do you like it, Mommy? Does it smell good?" (This pretend dye offered for my approval on the tip of the plastic sword he was using as a comb, curling iron, and "hair washer".) I replied, "Of course, it does." He nodded knowingly, "It is all oil and no fiber!"
Miranda had one of her best friends over for a sleepover Friday night. "Anne" is a hoot. I was getting Anne and Xavier lathered up with sunblock before taking them out to do driveway art (Miranda had run off for her sandles) and Anne suddenly announced, "Xavier, I've decided -- I'm going to marry you someday."
Now, Xavier has proposed to her at least twice that I know of, but his response was, "I'll never marry you!"
Anne showed no sign of consternation or disappointment. Indeed, she replied, "No, Xavier, you don't understand. Once a girl decides she is going to marry you, that's it -- you have to marry her. You have no say in the matter, it's the girl who decides." At least I now know where Miranda gets it.
Xavier is also starting to rebel against the health food diet my husband lovingly prepares for us. As he offered to "color" my hair "chocolate cherry brown" (Where does he come up with this? I have never colored my hair), he asked me, "Do you like it, Mommy? Does it smell good?" (This pretend dye offered for my approval on the tip of the plastic sword he was using as a comb, curling iron, and "hair washer".) I replied, "Of course, it does." He nodded knowingly, "It is all oil and no fiber!"
Miranda had one of her best friends over for a sleepover Friday night. "Anne" is a hoot. I was getting Anne and Xavier lathered up with sunblock before taking them out to do driveway art (Miranda had run off for her sandles) and Anne suddenly announced, "Xavier, I've decided -- I'm going to marry you someday."
Now, Xavier has proposed to her at least twice that I know of, but his response was, "I'll never marry you!"
Anne showed no sign of consternation or disappointment. Indeed, she replied, "No, Xavier, you don't understand. Once a girl decides she is going to marry you, that's it -- you have to marry her. You have no say in the matter, it's the girl who decides." At least I now know where Miranda gets it.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Cookie Anatomy 101
Yesterday, we made cookies that we brought in for Miranda's class today. The problem with making 100% Whole Wheat cookies that you can cut with a cookie cutter is that they end up with the consistency of pie crust and they don't taste a whole lot better. On the bright side, everything is better with frosting.
Anyway, I promised the kids they could have a cookie when they came out of the oven. Some of the more complex cookie shapes -- the dinosaurs, in particular -- had a pretty high mortality rate when I was scraping them off the pan, so I decided the kids could eat the broken cookies. Hey, they taste just as good, right? Or, in this case, just as bad. Did I mention there was frosting? I also had allowed the kids to decorate the cookies with chocolate chips before we put them in the oven, so there was also that mitigating factor.
When Adam got home, the kids were preparing to eat their broken cookies. When Xavier saw Adam, he pointed to the chocolate-chip-laden dinosaur on his plate and said, "Look, Daddy, it's a dinosaur!" Pointing to one of the chocolate chips, he added, "And right here is his eye!"
"I see," Adam replied. Pointing to the other cluster of chocolate chips on the dinosaur, he asked, "And what are these."
Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "Those are his testicles!"
Anyway, I promised the kids they could have a cookie when they came out of the oven. Some of the more complex cookie shapes -- the dinosaurs, in particular -- had a pretty high mortality rate when I was scraping them off the pan, so I decided the kids could eat the broken cookies. Hey, they taste just as good, right? Or, in this case, just as bad. Did I mention there was frosting? I also had allowed the kids to decorate the cookies with chocolate chips before we put them in the oven, so there was also that mitigating factor.
When Adam got home, the kids were preparing to eat their broken cookies. When Xavier saw Adam, he pointed to the chocolate-chip-laden dinosaur on his plate and said, "Look, Daddy, it's a dinosaur!" Pointing to one of the chocolate chips, he added, "And right here is his eye!"
"I see," Adam replied. Pointing to the other cluster of chocolate chips on the dinosaur, he asked, "And what are these."
Without hesitation, Xavier replied, "Those are his testicles!"
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Shopping
Today I took the kids to the local kitchen store and the local health food store, and I learned some very valuable lessons.
First (at the kitchen store), that it is a bad idea to bring a three-year-old boy who has just had a sugary snack into a store with lots of glass objects -- it's kind of like bringing a bull into a china shop (and that analogy is pretty close to the mark.) It is even more hazardous if accompanied by a five-year-old girl who is fascinated by said glass objects.
"Mommy, look at that pitcher -- it is so colorful!"
"Miranda, don't touch! Xavier, stop butting me in the bottom!"
"And look! There's a pig cup, too!"
"Xavier! Get away from the glass display and get off your sister!"
Second, at the health food store, nothing gets the blood pumping like having a pair of small maniacs racing around your merchandise chorusing, "Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm - Drink!" Of course, being a typical health food store, it is pretty much a hole in the wall loaded with merchandise, so there isn't a lot of room to begin with; in addition, the other local health food store just burned down, so there were a LOT of people there, reducing a small amount of space in which said small maniacs could run. On top of that, consider that when they weren't chorusing, my constant refrain was, "Xavier, stop trying to hide under my skirt!" I think everyone in the store felt like they's had a cardiac workout by the time we left.
Oh, well. I am starting to research cars for 2008, when we plan to replace our much-abused Civic Hatchback. Miranda has been following this research with interest. Her first pick was the Volkswagon Beetle. When I found out they did not come with a real manual transmission, she was very disappointed that it was no longer in the running. Now I am leaning toward the Honda Civic sedan EX, but Miranda and I cannot agree on colors (I like blue, but she insists on white.) But if I left it up to her, we'd be getting a Blaze Orange 2007 Honda Fit (well, probably the 2008 Fit, but it comes out in 2007.) Considering it looks kind of like a baby minivan, I hope not ... but given my attempts to break out of the hatchback motif, chances are she'll have her way.
I guess a roundish Orange car would at least match my license plate.
First (at the kitchen store), that it is a bad idea to bring a three-year-old boy who has just had a sugary snack into a store with lots of glass objects -- it's kind of like bringing a bull into a china shop (and that analogy is pretty close to the mark.) It is even more hazardous if accompanied by a five-year-old girl who is fascinated by said glass objects.
"Mommy, look at that pitcher -- it is so colorful!"
"Miranda, don't touch! Xavier, stop butting me in the bottom!"
"And look! There's a pig cup, too!"
"Xavier! Get away from the glass display and get off your sister!"
Second, at the health food store, nothing gets the blood pumping like having a pair of small maniacs racing around your merchandise chorusing, "Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm -- Drink! Mmm-Mmm - Drink!" Of course, being a typical health food store, it is pretty much a hole in the wall loaded with merchandise, so there isn't a lot of room to begin with; in addition, the other local health food store just burned down, so there were a LOT of people there, reducing a small amount of space in which said small maniacs could run. On top of that, consider that when they weren't chorusing, my constant refrain was, "Xavier, stop trying to hide under my skirt!" I think everyone in the store felt like they's had a cardiac workout by the time we left.
Oh, well. I am starting to research cars for 2008, when we plan to replace our much-abused Civic Hatchback. Miranda has been following this research with interest. Her first pick was the Volkswagon Beetle. When I found out they did not come with a real manual transmission, she was very disappointed that it was no longer in the running. Now I am leaning toward the Honda Civic sedan EX, but Miranda and I cannot agree on colors (I like blue, but she insists on white.) But if I left it up to her, we'd be getting a Blaze Orange 2007 Honda Fit (well, probably the 2008 Fit, but it comes out in 2007.) Considering it looks kind of like a baby minivan, I hope not ... but given my attempts to break out of the hatchback motif, chances are she'll have her way.
I guess a roundish Orange car would at least match my license plate.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
In-dependence Day
We're back from the trip to my parents' house for my mother's big birthday and the Independence Day parade (which is always on the Saturday closest to July 4th instead of (necessarily) the actual holiday). A good time was had by all. Miranda played "Happy Birthday to You" on her kazoo (which she had practiced for about half an hour in the van on the way up until Adam begged her to give it a rest for awhile), and Xavier presented my mother with drawings he had done in his eraser-marker book on the way up (of course, he kept the book.) I think Mom had a good time.
We celebrated the Fourth of July proper at home with our next-door neighbors; this is the second year in a row that we have had them over for dinner at our house, then drifted over to their front lawn to watch the municipal fireworks display, so it is probably now a tradition (if so, it is a good tradition.) One variation this year is that we decided to let the kids stay up and watch the fireworks (if they could manage to stay up that late.) At 9:30, we bustled the kids into bathrobes (in Miranda's case) and jackets (in Xavier's case, specifically a Tigger jacket that was part of a Halloween costume, complete with ears.) The fireworks display started up, and after ten minutes or so, Xavier and the neighbor's son announced that they wanted to go home, to bed, so the fathers took the boys in, leaving the wives and the two daughters. The neighbor started to talk to me about how a friend of hers had just had a baby, which led to birthing stories, which will probably guarantee that neither of the girls will ever have children of their own (hey, just doing our part for Zero Population growth.)
I had never noticed before just how long our town's fireworks display is, but it seemed to keep going and going, and finally Miranda started asking, "When is it going to be over?"
"Would you like for me to take you home?" I'd ask.
"There's no point," she'd reply, "because the noise would just keep me awake." (A pretty mature observation from a little girl who is watching fireworks with a dinosaur tucked under each arm.) A few minutes would pass, and then she would start over, "What is taking it so long? When is it going to be over?"
Maybe next year ...
We celebrated the Fourth of July proper at home with our next-door neighbors; this is the second year in a row that we have had them over for dinner at our house, then drifted over to their front lawn to watch the municipal fireworks display, so it is probably now a tradition (if so, it is a good tradition.) One variation this year is that we decided to let the kids stay up and watch the fireworks (if they could manage to stay up that late.) At 9:30, we bustled the kids into bathrobes (in Miranda's case) and jackets (in Xavier's case, specifically a Tigger jacket that was part of a Halloween costume, complete with ears.) The fireworks display started up, and after ten minutes or so, Xavier and the neighbor's son announced that they wanted to go home, to bed, so the fathers took the boys in, leaving the wives and the two daughters. The neighbor started to talk to me about how a friend of hers had just had a baby, which led to birthing stories, which will probably guarantee that neither of the girls will ever have children of their own (hey, just doing our part for Zero Population growth.)
I had never noticed before just how long our town's fireworks display is, but it seemed to keep going and going, and finally Miranda started asking, "When is it going to be over?"
"Would you like for me to take you home?" I'd ask.
"There's no point," she'd reply, "because the noise would just keep me awake." (A pretty mature observation from a little girl who is watching fireworks with a dinosaur tucked under each arm.) A few minutes would pass, and then she would start over, "What is taking it so long? When is it going to be over?"
Maybe next year ...
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