Cords and Fleece

Apparently, Lizzy and Samantha have a soft spot in their hearts for the bad guys. After all, in their world the bad guys always get shot, beaten, or killed by super heroes, they always land in jail, and they’re never attractive. So when I heard strange phrases in hushed tones coming from the toy room the other day, phrases like, take off his clothes ... and hand me that bug ... and, put that on his vagina , I had to ask: What is going on in there?! After some debate between the two of them (n o, don’t tell mommy ... it’s OK, just don’t tell daddy ... and so on) they finally fessed up that they were playing a game with Barbies and other creatures wherein the bad guys win. Here’s how it works: In this game, the bad guys torture the good guys by making them take off all their clothes and then placing mind-controlling bugs on their vaginas . The bugs contain a virus that infects their hosts, thus enabling the bad guys to control the actions and behaviors of the good guys. Ergo, the b...

The letter continues... ------------------------------- No Dogs Allowed...Yet Long story short -- Lizzy still wants a dog. As she says, “I’ve wished and I’ve prayed.. .and I still don’t have a dog! ” It’s getting to the point where we either have to restore a little girl’s faith in the mystical and spiritual...or allow her to learn an important life lesson, i.e. that life isn’t fair. She knew the odds were stacked against her, so she made her case in a letter addressed to “Melissa, Mikol, and Samantha.” It read: Dear, Family I have been so nice to you and I Deserv to Be treted nice to. you have Been kind But have not proved that you are a nice family. so I asc for Just one thing a Dog. I want to Be a loveing chield. I also want to Be Loved. and al this week Iv got [smiley] fases [at school]. Did you like gowing to the party at BalBowa park on lina’s BirthDay. _______ I am vary vary funny and vary vary nice to. I will show you my Birth mark. it is on my leg. Love, Lizzy ...

Wow. I just finished writing my part of the yearly Christmas letter -- and it was six pages long! That tells me I need to write more frequently, so I'll try to be more vigilant in 2010. Thus, here's the first excerpt from this multi-part series, The 2009 Christmas Letter . --------------------------- Yosemite Few things are more satisfying than showing our girls something magnificent for the first time in their lives. We had that chance last year (sort of) when we took them to visit Yosemite. Actually, Lizzy had been there once before when she was a year old, but she was too young to remember it. And Sammy had been there too -- in utero. But this year, they’ll remember it, so it feels like the first time. Here are some highlights: • Swimming in the icy Merced River • Riding our bicycles in Yosemite Valley • Hiking to Nevada Falls • Sharing our lunches with the Squirrels • Lizzy getting a ride in an inflatable raft in a lake below snow-capped mountains • Samantha...

Five positive things... positive things... I'm supposed to write about five positive things ... Well, our disagreements with the girls don't involve knives. Does that count? And the big black bus I saw this morning on the way to work, the one with bars on the windows from the San Diego Corrections Unit... well, I wasn't on it. That's good. And the breakfast Elizabeth didn't eat this morning (the 3rd breakfast she's missed in a week due to procrastination and general testing of wills), well at least she had the opportunity to eat, unlike so many other kids around the world. And the coworker standing in front of my cubicle this morning ready to bombard me with a request as I walked in the door... well, at least I have a job. Five positive things... need one more... Oh -- I don't have a fever blister. There. Five positive things. I'm having a bad morning. I'm really struggling with Elizabeth. Where did she get such an iron will?! Generally, it's ...

I've been very cynical, lately. Events over the last few months, personally and globally, have raised many questions and many of the answers have left a bitter taste in my mouth. Long story short? I've opened a door and entered reality. I won't go into the details (I'll save that for my private blog -- you know, the really interesting one where all the bodies are buried), but I realize I must actively strive for balance, to recognize the good that surrounds me daily. Because as dark as reality can be at times, it is not all dark , and I don't want to forget that. I often read Journey Mama , and she recently decided to join the " Grace in Small Things " challenge to list 5 positive things each day. It can be anything from finishing a marathon (because that happens so often) to realizing your canker sore has finally healed (which happens way more frequently). Here's what I have for Sunday: 1. Adas Polo leftovers. We ate dinner at Bandar on Saturday (a ...

Lizzy always seems to be moving faster than I am prepared. When she was fourteen months old, she learned to escape from her crib. She swung one lanky leg waaay up, hoisted it over the edge, and pulled herself out. At the time, I fully expected her to remain in her crib each night, nicely contained, until she was at least 2 years old. But fourteen months?! I wasn't ready. I hoped it was a fluke. But she repeated the maneuver again and again -- not to convince me otherwise, but because it was so much fun and so powerful. Well, she's caught me off guard, again. Here I was, fully anticipating 8 more years of non-teenage bliss. But I'll be damned if a teenager didn't walk out of her room one morning. It looked like Elizabeth, talked like Elizabeth, dressed the wacky way Elizabeth sometimes dresses. But it wasn't Elizabeth. Well, not the one I'm used to. Did you ever fantasize about what you would do if you had to go back to being a kid or teenager, knowing all you kn...

Michael: "Did you see the note?" Me: "Note?" Michael: "It's in her bookbag." Me: mmm kaaay... Mr. & Mrs. Cords and Fleece, Lizzy did fine today. But I just want to let you know that she gave Payton a scare. While Payton was walking back to his rug spot, she put her arm out as if to trip him. She pulled her arm away just in time so he wouldn't fall. She apologized, but if you could talk to her that would help. Thanks!! Lizzy's Teacher P.S. She's also been making noises at the rug. :( I probably shouldn't have laughed out loud when I read this. Was it the thought of the bewildered and nearly-stumbling Payton that made me laugh? (I'm a sucker for well-executed slapstick and pratfalls -- even if it's a five-year old.) Was it the noises I imagined Lizzy making on the rug? Or was it the frowny face hand-drawn at the end of the note, depicting the exasperated teacher? Bad Lizzy. Bad. Either way, laughing at a teacher's cry...

“Don’t go.” A small voice calls from the bed behind me where I had just felt Elizabeth’s cool forehead and kissed her cheek. The curtains are pulled shut, keeping the morning light at bay. “OK.” I climb into bed behind her and she pulls my arm tightly around her chest and smiles. “Stay with me. I want to have some alone time with you. Daddy and Samantha can do something, and we’ll be in here resting. Just you and me.” “OK.” Snuggle. “Mommy, is it a school day?” “No, it’s Saturday.” “On Saturday we can go anywhere we want to.” “Sure.” “We’ll do whatever we want to, just us.” “Sure.” Snuggle. “Mommy, why did you come into my bedroom?” “Because you slept in late and I wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” “I’m not sick. Look, I’m already dressed!” “Wha? You are! When did you do that?” “Last night after I read books and Daddy made me go back to bed. I turned up the light just a little so I wouldn’t wake Samantha up, then I got dressed.” Elizabeth wears a red Wonder Woman T-shirt, pink pa...

  "Oh look, kids! Your classmates are standing in little groups on the lawn, instead of playing safely inside their classrooms. And listen -- the fire alarm is ringing. Whoopee! OK, now. Run along and have a good day. Good luck with that fire and everything. Just remember -- stop, drop and roll . We'll see you later!" What is the matter with us?! Apparently there was some sort of electrical malfunction in one of the rooms at the daycare where my girls go to school. When we pulled up, small children were standing in groups around the school yard. Samantha's class stood on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot -- their tiny heads barely visible over the hood of my car as I pulled up. (I doubt they'd be so visible from a minivan.) No one seemed to be worried. Smoke was not billowing from the windows. Only one fire truck pulled up next to the school -- without sirens. Firemen casually walked through the front door as if they were about to register their own childre...

  Samantha: “I want to play Boggle, Daddy!” Michael: “This game is for people who know how to read.” Samantha: “Yes, but I’m tall !” Michael: “Well, height really has nothing to do with literacy .” -------------------- Elizabeth: “Look! It’s a dradle.” (pause) “I made it out of clay!” And she really did. And we laughed really hard. -------------------- Me: “I had a dream that you were mad at me and I went to a used record store and bought Michael Jackson’s Off the Wall for you in order to make up.” Michael: “Are you sure you didn’t buy the record first and then I got mad at you?” -------------------- Elizabeth: “How come kids only know about being fair and not grownups?” -------------------- Me (to friends): “We got a kitten!” Michael: “She misunderstood -- that’s not exactly what I meant when I said ‘I wanted more pussy ’.” Oh, yes he did. -------------------- Me: “Meg’s touching your bone.” (Meg is the cat and the bone is obviously Michael’s penis -- certainly not a drumstick .)...

  Either I slept the wrong way, stared at my computer too long, or kicked a puppy in a former life, because today my upper back and neck hurts like crazy. Tonight I asked Michael to apply one of those medicated heating patches to my back. I must have missed the part on the package that said it’s like putting a wet rag in the snow and then slapping it onto your skin, because as soon as he applied it, I emitted a “Goofy Holler” which I’m sure the neighbors heard. (In case you’re unfamiliar with the Goofy Holler , also known as the “Wilhelm Scream”, check it out on YouTube . ) Anyhoo, the good news is that the patch is no longer cold . The bad news is that it feels like someone took a wire brush to my spine and then poured jalapeno juice all over it. The overall affect is somewhat like rubbing sand in your eyes to divert attention from the pain in your shin after running into the coffee table -- it works, but not really.  

  Well, not really. More like brown on brown . But somehow, changing my blog -- even if it’s just the title/address -- makes me feel a little like I’ve dyed my hair chartreuse. I’m excited for the change, but what will people think? Suddenly I feel like it’s 9am and I’m standing outside the door to my office, staring at my neon reflection in the window, and I’m nervous . I open the door, hoping the receptionist is in the bathroom and won’t notice as I slip into my cubicle. Deep breath... “Good morning,” she says as I enter. “You died your hair.” “Yes! Yes I did!” I say with extreme enthusiasm, as if my enthusiasm for green hair will rub off on everyone around me. When she says nothing, I start to sweat. I don’t want to have to justify what I’ve done, but suddenly the explanations pour from my mouth, unbidden. “Uh.... well. You see I thought it would be... fun! ... to do something a little different. You know? To start fresh ,” I say, nodding, because if I nod, perhaps she will nod. Yes...

  It’s morning. “Lizzy, you have to get dressed now if you want your sticker today.” “Did you do your homework? You have to bring something that starts with the letter ‘O’.” “If you don’t get dressed, then you have to go to school in your pajamas and you won’t be allowed to play outside.” “Leave Henry alone -- he’s under the table because he wants to be alone.” “Did you find your Sharing Day item?” “Lizzy, I’ll help you get dressed, now -- but you’re not getting a sticker.” “Have you thought about the clues you need for Sharing Day?” “No, you don’t get a sticker for getting dressed eventually -- you get a sticker for getting dressed without making a fuss, first.” “Can you think of a better clue than ‘it’s orange’?” “Don’t forget to brush your hair.” “No, you can’t eat your Sharing Day item... or poke holes in it.” “Where’s your jacket?” “Lizzy! You forgot your Sharing Day item!” Elizabeth is loaded into her car seat, holding her breakfast baggy in one hand and her Sharing Day ite...

  A simple request: “Hi, could you pick the girls up at noon instead of 1:00pm?” Leads to this: “WHY THE FUCK DO I EVEN TRY!!!” Followed by me hurling my cellphone at the laptop and throwing myself onto the couch, groaning. “What’s the matter?” Michael asks and comes into the living room. He’s brave like that. “WHY DO I EVEN TRY?!” I yell. “Every time I gather myself to write, something gets in my way. It’s like the Universe is trying to tell me to stop. And for the last few weeks I’ve tried to ‘let go’ and ‘go with the flow’ and ‘meditate’ and all that CRAP. I’ve tried to realize that perhaps it’s not time to write. That instead I should concentrate on my family. Or work. Or being absolutely still. But I want to write ! So I try, and then something stops me. Work. Family. Christmas. A cold. Some event. Every time. EVERY FUCKING time!” Michael tries to be helpful. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll pick up the girls.” I take a deep breath. “Because I want to see them. I want to see...

  HYPOTHESES A. Having a reasonable point (i.e. we have lots of debt and we need to pay off our bills...) does not give one the right to be a snotty-ass. B. Insecurity does not give one the right to be defensive and impractical. C. One acquires more flies with honey. D. Politeness aids digestion. EXPERIMENT #1: UNCONTROLLED Husband and wife discuss money issues. They are, for the moment, content. Two minutes later... [ Scientific Observer turns away in disgust at childlike behavior... ] Asshole jerk-off , thinks the wife. She is frustrated. This debt is like a vice around my balls and I want it to go away! Doesn’t anyone get that?! thinks the husband. He is frustrated. Husband has heartburn. Wife has heartburn. Scientific Observer has heartburn. EXPERIMENT #2: POLITENESS ADDED Husband and wife discuss money issues. They are, for the moment, content. Add Politeness... "Could you give me the money from last night so I can deposit it," the husband asks nicely. "Sure. It...

It rained today. To pass the time, we played with Tulip the Kitten, watched old school Sesame Street, and ate cheese burgers and Chicago-style hot dogs in a corner booth at Portillos. Grandma and Grandma arrived this afternoon. Traffic was heavy on the way to the airport. As our wipers slowly swished across the windshield, we listened to Christmas songs on the radio. Samantha asked, “Is it still Christmas?” Since the German restaurant was closed, we ate Italian for dinner. A tall, rotund man with ruddy cheeks and a small black mustache sang rich baritone songs. “OK,” I began. “This is a long shot.” “Try me,” he said. “Well, my little girl’s favorite songs are The Lonely Goat Herder and Waltzing Matilda.” “Yea, that’s a long shot.” Instead, he sang Edelweiss. Then he pulled up a chair next to Samantha and sang The Wheels on the Bus... also in rich baritone. Samantha watched with wide eyes and no smile. When he finished singing, Michael slipped Samantha a fin and asked her to give it to ...

Holy moly, I slept in until 10am today. In San Diego time that's 8am, but still. Of course the girls went to bed at midnight and I went to bed at 1am, but still . That's 8am (or 10am)! Against Michael's protestations, we've sucessfully done nothing so far today. He tried to do something -- had some crazy notion about going downtown -- but I nixed that. Instead, we spent a rather enjoyable morning going through old boxes of family memorabilia. At one point we found an old box marked "Elizabeth Weber Momentos 1983." I had to stare at it for a while before it dawned on me it wasn't our Elizabeth , but Michael's grandmother. Here are some random photos from our morning excavation.       The Punch Up Lizzy had an idea for a restaurant, The Punch Up, that serves healthy, energetic food primarily in lines and circle shapes, i.e. spaghetti and meatballs, pancakes, etc. She hired Papa to work in her kitchen making his specialty, Fruit Salad. She plans...

  It’s 9:30pm Saturday night, November 10th. I’m thinking about the week ahead of me. This week we leave for Chicago to visit the family for Thanksgiving, cram a week’s worth of work into two days, and decide if we really need to buy winter shoes for the girls or if sandals and three pairs of socks will do. (I mean, it’s only for a week...) We leave Thursday. Wednesday I have a 6am migraine scheduled. My monthly migraine always falls on a Wednesday. Usually I try to plan around it. Guests are coming in from out of town? Great, I’ll make dinner. They’re coming on Wednesday? Forget it. Better order a pizza... So with last minute packing and a migraine, I don’t think I’ll have the mental wherewithal to compose a blog entry. With that in mind, I decided to interview my future self today, so she won’t have to think so hard then. See self? I do look out for you once in a while. Thus, in the following interview, I ask the questions on 11/10 and answer them 11/14. Hi self! You must be dog...

My butt is not my own. No, each member of my family considers my butt free territory and I can hardly turn a corner or walk down the hallway without a friendly slap. And washing dishes? Or cooking? Basically that means my butt is available for bongo practice. So, we’re at the zoo last weekend. As we’re standing in line waiting for nachos, Elizabeth (who’s head naturally reaches butt-height) reached up and spanked the butt closest to her head. Except this time, it wasn’t mine -- it was the lady standing next to us. “Oh, my. I’m sorry. Elizabeth, please say you’re sorry.” The lady smiled. Lizzy chewed on a finger, embarrassed. “That’s OK,” the lady said. “I thought it was my husband.” (laughs all around) It’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s lost control of her butt. I suppose it doesn’t help that I often sing, “If you’re happy and you know it, spank my butt!” The girls happily comply. (Of course, I realize that only a mother of two toddlers could get away with that -- certainly n...

I guess I’m having a Ghost World moment. We had a garage sale Saturday, and it didn’t go as I’d hoped. Today I’m just sad and drained. We worked really hard on a hot day to fix and clean everything. I went through the girls’ old clothes and hung their pretty dresses on hangers. I accepted that the toys in the garage were unnecessary and put them out for sale. We polished Elizabeth’s first toddler bed and the girls’ crib. Everything was beautiful. We sold a few things, but very few of the girls’ items. In the end, I practically gave the toddler bed away which was one of the hardest items to give up. As Michael said, “I read a lot of stories to Elizabeth in that bed.” I feel like a dirty, desperate whore selling it for a mere $20. (To any whores who might be reading, please forgive my exaggeration, but I’m on my period and, well, you know how it is...) I keep telling myself that it’s all “good karma” -- that the woman who bought it for her little girl will have many good memories in it,...