Learning to Fly

Next week is the last Effective Parenting class. After 15 weeks of classes and small group discussion I should be a darned effective parent by now.
If I could sum up what I've learned about effective parenting it would be this: effective parenting is hard; ineffective parenting is easy. It's easy to yell at your kids; it's hard to try and find out what's wrong with them - to find out what's causing the behavior as Lee would say. It's easy to put a kid in time out, it's hard to decide on a logical consequence. It's easy to say the wrong thing when you're mad, it's hard to admit it later and to apologize.
We live in this strange society where it's assumed that when one becomes a parent they will innately know how to parent. We take birthing classes, but we don't take parenting classes. What I hear most when I tell people I'm taking a parenting class is, "you don't need to take a parenting class, you're a great mom," and while I appreciate this sentiment, even great doctors take enrichment classes and seminars to hone their skills and learn about new developments in their fields (at least I hope they do). Why not parents too?

song: Learning to Fly • artist: Tom Petty

She's Got a Way

In honor of mothers day here's to all the mothers out there who aren't afraid to jump in and help out without being asked. You women rock. Whether it's a child who's calling for her dad to help her off the wooden train at the playground ("is it okay if I help you?") to the mom who picks up the crying twin that's waiting pitifully in the swing while his brother gets strapped into the stroller ahead of him. Perhaps you aren't the mother of twins (heaven forbid you said in your own words), but you obviously have talents to share that are far beyond my own. I am never at ease around other children, no matter how many of my own I seem to accumulate. Instead of at-ease mom, I feel more like deer-in-the-headlights mom. Two weekends back I did help a birthday boy who was in his birthday suit struggling with his swim trunks but only after watching his unsuccessful attempts for some time and wondering, should I or shouldn't I.
I have seen women in action who are natural-born mothers. A real mother's mother. They are the women who always have Kleenex in their pockets and juice boxes in their car (enough to share). They speak to my children with enthusiasm I can barely muster. They jump in and pass out supplies and clip boards during story time. They volunteer for the PTO and know how to French braid. They can throw a baseball. They can strike up conversation effortlessly with other mothers - I overhear them and think they must be high school friends until the end of the conversation when they formally introduce themselves to each other. They will remember each other's names next time they meet - and the names of one another's children.
They can parallel park their mini vans.
Happy Mothers Day to all the moms who can mother anyone's children. My hat's off to all of you, which is a big compliment since I rarely take off my hat.

song: She's Got a Way • artist: Billy Joel

Gimme Gimme Gimme

The Tao of my Twins: Lesson 4

If I have two hands, I must have two crackers.

song: Gimme Gimme Gimme • artist: Abba

Who'll Stop the Rain?

Another day of doing the same chores I do every day in a futile attempt to keep up with things and then foolishly thinking that another load of laundry or emptying out the dishwasher one more time before bed will make a difference.
Are you aware that it has rained every day since May 1st?
I don't remember that in any of those descriptive kid poems about spring.
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.
April showers bring May flowers.
May rain drives everyone insane.

song: Who'll Stop the Rain? • artist: Creedence Clearwater Revival

Little Bird, Little Bird

It's weird and unsettling to read about the potential demise of the Boston Globe - in the Boston Globe. It must be weirder still to work for the paper and have to report on it. Like having to describe your own injuries from the field of battle
It would pain me to see the paper fold even though over the past years they've eliminated many of the columnist and features that I enjoyed most.
If I might make a suggestion to the Globe I would advise them to expand their area of redelivery. If you miss an Enterprise delivery, or get a wet paper, or the neighbor's dog chews it up, whatever, we'll bring you another one. Whenever I call in a missed delivery to the Globe, it's not at all satisfying to hear that recorded voice on the end of the line saying he's sorry and our account will be credited. I don't want credit - I want my paper. I want my driver, the same guy who delivers my Cape Cod Times (which inexplicably gets delivered, why one and not the other?), to get back down my road pronto and bring me a paper. Why can't he just go buy one at the W. Falmouth Market and have the Globe credit his account.
Now, on days when we don't get a paper (like today), I just assume the paper has finally bled out and folded.
The baby birds in our window box nest didn't make it. I've been too depressed to write anything since it happened. I shouldn't be that surprised, the reality is that nature is pretty harsh. I don't know what happened. Ken thinks something must have got the mother bird.
I was glad my kids weren't home. I buried all the chicks in the garden and then had a good cry about it. If the mother bird is still out there somewhere I just want her to know I took care of them. When Ken came home he emptied the window box and cleaned out the nest and the brown Christmas tree branches. I was glad he did because I kept automatically looking to the right every time I went out the door to get a glimpse of the mother bird. It's amazing how quickly we acclimate to something or someone and it becomes part of our routine.

song: Little Bird, Little Bird • musical: Man of La Mancha

Close To You

Normally I'm a big fan of velcro. It's made lots of things in my life easier, and provided lots of entertainment to viewers of David Letterman. It does have its dark side however, which is its inability to discern between the things it should and should not stick to.
Today I took a stinky diaper off N, wrapped it, and set it aside. The velcro tab on the diaper grabbed my sweater as I was reaching across the changing table for a diaper wipe. The dirty diaper began creeping towards me like Ash's possessed hand in Evil Dead II. The faster I pulled, the faster it followed. I tried to shake it loose. It wouldn't go. I couldn't grab it with my other hand because I couldn't let go of the baby. Damn, I thought, what if N kicks it and goes heel-deep into poop? Luckily he kicked, hit the diaper but missed the poop, and freed me from the tab.
I know I should have deposited the dirty diaper directly into the trash can - why didn't I do that, I wondered irritatedly. It's like all those James Bond movies. Bond always lives because the bad guys never just shoot him - they always capture him and then try to set him up for some kind of slow, agonizing-yet-clever death. Bond always escapes. Why don't they just shoot him? "Just shoot him!" I want to yell at the screen.
Dumb criminals and mothers. They never learn.

song: Close To You • artist: The Carpenters

We Built This City

They are demolishing the ideal spot. The Ideal Spot Motel that is. They are going to build condos there; right next to the condos they built out of the Caleb O. Hamblin House a few years back. Some of those units are still for sale.
I can't understand why the town gave the West Falmouth Market a hard time over their plans to expand their business and put apartment units on top of the store when that entire corner of Route 28A is in the process of being turned into condominiums.
Maybe it's because people might actually move into the apartments.
And speaking of building, what's the story with that house next to the Tin Man Diner? They built the house over the course of three weeks last winter when I was sequestered inside with the twins. Fifteen months later and they still can't get any landscaping in?

song: We Built This City • artist: Jefferson Starship

You Are So Beautiful

The eggs in the windowbox nest hatched.
The chicks are all bald and bug eyed.
But because I'm a mother too, I told the wren her babies were beautiful.
And I really think that they are.

song: You Are So Beautiful • artist: Joe Cocker

You Creep Me Out

The ants are back and infesting the dining room. There are ticks all over the back yard. I have this mounting paranoia that something is crawling on me.
This must be what I get for insulting Spring.

song: You Creep Me Out • artist: Apple Betty

I Wonder What Would Happen to this World

10 songs for Earth Day

1. This Land is Your Land - Woodie Guthrie
2. Where Do the Children Play - Cat Stevens
3. I Love Trash - Oscar the Grouch
4. Hammer and a Nail - Indigo Girls
5. Mother Nature's Son - the Beatles
6. Mother Earth - Tom Rush
7. Garden Song - David Mallett
8. The Last Resort - The Eagles
9. I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers
10 I Wonder What Would Happen to this World - Harry Chapin
bonus track: That song by Eric Harris Kerns about the woman who gets killed by toxic sludge. Darn! I can't remember its name.

song: I Wonder What Would Happen to this World • artist: Harry Chapin

a poem for earth day

In order to write this poem
I made ink from crushed berries
that grew naturally in my yard.
My writing utensil is a stylus
of bamboo
grown in a sustainable forest
and whittled to a point using an arrowhead.
The paper was made from recycled pizza boxes
collected from our locally-owned pizza shop.
The one that buys its toppings from local farmers
and sponsors their own little league team.
And even though it was overcast,
I sat by the window
and let the natural light shine through
to avoid switching on the lamp.
When I was finally ready to begin the poem
I realized
I had forgotten
what I wanted to say.

Dirty Old Town

Did you know that John Todd has an Earth Day Birthday?
I can't think of anything more appropriate.
The local radio station has been airing helpful Earth Day suggestions like "don't forget those reusable cloth bags," and "pick up plastic off the beaches."
Didn't we solve the paper vs plastic debate 20 years ago? About the time we all started cutting up the plastic rings on our beer six packs? Let's stop talking about reusable bags and changing light bulbs. Let's talk about nitrogen overloading, where our septic really goes, cheap coal, and our obsession with grass (the kind you walk on, not the kind you smoke).
C's suggestion for Earth Day is that everyone wear the same clothes two days in a row without washing them.
Now there's a suggestion I can get behind.
Of course I already do that.

song: Dirty Old Town • artist: Ewan MacColl

On The Radio

On the weekends, Sirius Radio plays the Top 40 Countdown on both the Big 80s and the 70s on 7 stations.
It sure plays through a lot faster without the commercials. Remember how Casey Kasem used to announce an upcoming song, air a commercial, come back with the lead in to the long-distance dedication, and then play another commercial? Good thing that was all back in the day when I had lots of time on my hands. Enough to wait around to find out that Wham had the number one song in the nation for the 6th week in a row.
Listening to the countdown has led to the realization that in addition to all the bad music from the 80s that I do remember, there's even more that (thankfully) I have forgotten.
In my opinion, Sirius should update the countdown. Throw in a few "where are they now" segments. What is Matthew Wilder (Break My Stride) doing now? Or Corey Hart (Sunglasses at Night)? Better yet, what about all those long distance dedications? How did they all turn out? Did Alex, the "wandering minstrel," hear his long distance dedication, "Guitar Man" from Kim? Did Wanda from Montana decide to become "more than just friends" with Jack after hearing his "I Wanna Know What Love Is" dedication?
Is it "Against all Odds" or "Love Stinks"?
And have you noticed how all 80s hits sound like children's music? Elmer Fudd (aka David Bowie) singing "Let's Dance," "Mr. Roboto," "She Blinded Me With Science," "Rock Me Amadeus," "Rock Lobster." Big 80s is station #2 on my dial, next to Kids Place Live. The other day I got the two confused. Convinced I was listening to Big 80s, I read the title, "Aliens in My Head," and thought, must be something by Devo.

song: On The Radio • artist: Donna Summer

some more poems

some more poems in honor of National Poetry Month

candles (by H)
You can make them.
You can blow them out.
You don't really have to throw them.

deer (by C)
Deer don't drink beer.
They don't even have a tear.
I saw a deer in Virginia
and it had some beer.
And it had a tear.

two red pens (by Mommy)
one for right
one for wrong
jostle for position
in the desk

Trees (a poem by H)

Trees grow.
Some people knock them down.
Some of them are little.
Some of them are big.
Some go away and never come back.
But you can grow one with a seed.

I Got You Babe

People are making excuses for spring again.
"At least it's sunny." I've already heard twice today, which is pretty good for someone who hasn't left the house except to go to the bus stop.
It can be sunny anytime. It can be sunny in January. I don't care about sunny. I care about warm.
Sunny without warm is like eggs without bacon, like Sonny without Cher, like pork chops without apple sauce, like high definition tv without a 60-inch screen, like Britney Spears without something stupid to say.
At least it's sunny is like sitting in your tricked-out, candy-apple red, brand-new sports car - with four flat tires.

song: I Got You Babe • artist: Sonny and Cher

I'll Fly Away

The nest in our window box now has eggs in it. I don't know how many but C's been keeping a pretty good tab.
Normally in this situation I would try and use the back door so as not to continually disturb the bird but it's next to impossible with the twins. Whenever I go anywhere with them it's at least three trips back and forth to the car to get everyone in and that's assuming I get into the car and can find my keys or haven't forgotten anything. If you count trips that include C (bang!) and H (bang!) that's a total of five trips minimum.
I feel guilty that all my children are putting her future children in peril.
I thought Rufus would sit by the door and watch her but there's not much to see. Either the bird is in the nest or waiting in the holly bush for us to leave so she can get back on the nest. Instead I find myself standing by the front door peeking out at her.
At most the next is three feet from the front door and I'm afraid that if we swing the door wide open in the middle of the night she's going to fly right in the house (it's happened before), and that wouldn't be good for anyone.
Usually when I try to watch her on her nest she sees me, gives me the bird equivalent of the hairy eyeball, and flies off, but sometimes she doesn't notice me and stays.
I wonder what she's thinking about while she sits there. Probably the same things all mothers think:
"I wonder if we've built this nest in a good school district?"
"All I ever do is sit on this nest. I gotta get out more. What am I doing with my life? I'm not a chick anymore."
And finally:
"I wonder if I will have any marketable job skills left when these eggs finally fledge?"

song: I'll Fly Away • artist: Albert E. Brumley

I Melt With You

What's worse than kleenex in the washing machine?
Easter chocolates!
What's worse than dried out Play-Doh?
Moldy Play-Doh!
Today, after bringing in the laundry from the clothes line, I made my kids ants on a log for an afterschool snack.
I'm 50s mom!

song: I Melt With You • artist: Modern English

Roll to Me

What to do with those leftover eggs.

song: Roll to Me • artist: Del Amitri

You Send Me

The Easter gifts I ordered for the kids didn't arrive on time because they were sent by the USPS and the post office is broke, despite all those Pottery Barn catalogues, so they've laid off workers and consequently my kids have no Easter presents. So I had to run down to Uncle Bill's Country Store after Ken got home from work last night, while the kids were zoned out in front of Happy Feet waiting for some mild peril and rude humor.
Let me just say, in an unabashed plug for Uncle Bill's, it's a great little shop. Not only do they have all manner of gifts, especially stuff with which to fill last minute Easter baskets, it's a) right down the street, and, b)open late because it's attached to the Silver Lounge Restaurant.
I put money in the eggs we hid in the yard. There isn't much that fits into those eggs. You can either put in candy, let them rot their teeth and sanction gluttony, or, you can put in money, let them become materialistic and sanction greed. Choose your deadly sin.
At our house we don't talk up the Easter Bunny much. It's enough to keep up with the Santa hoax. Because there's no big Easter Bunny build up, I think the kids are on to the whole thing. H told Ken's parents that "Mommy did a treasure hunt," and C was suspicious when I told him there was still one egg left to find in the yard.
"How do you know how many eggs the Easter bunny left?" he said, suggesting next time the Easter bunny ought to leave a note.
I thought about this.
"Dear C. Hope you find your 10 Easter eggs. Love E.B.
E.B? Do you know what that means?
It means that Esther Buchanan is the Easter bunny!
Given that revelation, maybe she'll come over and help me get rid of all these hard boiled eggs.

song: You Send Me • artist: Sam Cooke

Rainy Days and Mondays

In spending a rainy Saturday in the house with all my children, I am trying to use all the techniques of parenting class to be an "effective" parent. But I feel more like the "affected" parent.
Maybe even an "afflicted" parent.

song: Rainy Days and Mondays • artist: The Carpenters

Everyday

Today I checked out "Happy Feet" from the library.
You know, the penguin movie, not the podiatrist promotion.
It's rated PG!
Wouldn't you assume a movie about a dancing penguin would be G rated?
I did.
You know what they say about assuming things though.
The parental guidance box says I should watch out for "some mild peril and rude humor. That pretty much describes an ordinary day around here.

song: Everyday • artist: Buddy Holly

Reunited

Another disappointingly cold spring day. It was a four baby blanket night. That's baby blankets on top of me while I'm watching tv. I don't remember how many I dumped on top of the actual babies. You're probably thinking, "well at least it was sunny," but that's because your expectations are so low - if it's not raining then it's a pretty good day. The only thing good about Monday was that after loading the twins into the van in the pouring (and I mean pouring) rain to go to preschool pick up, the song playing on Sirrus when I turned the car on was Prince's Purple Rain.
Spring on Cape Cod is like a bad boyfriend. You keep breaking up with him and saying, "never again," and then in March he comes around again. "I've changed," he promises, "please take me back."
So you think that this time he'll be different and you look into his green eyes and you say, "okay."
And when you do take him back, you can't tell any of your friends. "I'm believing in spring again," you'd say while they all shake their heads slowly at you, looks of concern and disappoint spreading over their features.
As soon as you let him in the door though it starts all over again. Slumping on the couch. Never leaving the house. Refusing to go places with you. Giving you the cold shoulder.
Sure, there are a few good days. Days when he's sunny and warm and brings you flowers. But for the most part he's not living up to his end of the bargain.
So you break it off again and he takes it pretty well but as he's leaving he turns, and in his best Arnold impersonation tells you, "I'll be back."

song: Reunited • artist: Peaches and Herb

You're No Good

My favorite after dinner snacks are cereal, ice cream, and wine.
None of these taste good together.

song: You're No Good • artist: Linda Ronstadt

Higher Ground

We attended an Easter egg hunt over the weekend.
It was a well-organized event, run by some nice (and very brave) parents - with an awesome backyard. They herded the little kids to one end of the yard so they would have a fighting chance at 1:20 when the hunt began.
C said he overheard the adults saying that they'd hidden 800 eggs. "Hidden" being a relative term. When the big kids came through (at approximately 1:22) it was like those swarms of grasshoppers I'd heard about during the dust bowl that would sweep across the plains and through farmers' fields devouring every living thing in sight. Those kids picked the woods clean. Not an egg left in sight except for a few that had been opened, had their candy extracted, and then been cast aside like a once favorite toy, now forgotten in the rush of Christmas morning.
Still, I liked it better than pinata bashing.

song: Higher Ground • artist: Stevie Wonder

Love the One You're With

I think I'm in love.
I don't even know his first name but I find myself curled up on the couch with him almost every night.
Ken has no idea.
He's handsome, good with kids, has a great sense of humor. What more could a mostly-stay-at-home mom want?
I admit it. I'm in love with the dad from the Henry and Mudge series.
But honestly. Who wouldn't me?
He brings his guitar on camping trips and sings Elvis.
He mows the lawn.
He reads newspapers.
He drinks tea.
He gets dressed up on valentine's day and takes his wife out dancing.
He spends weekends in his basement building cardboard castles with his son.
He never seems to have to go to work so I assume he's independently wealthy - at least there's no book titled, Henry and Mudge and Daddy's Mind-Numbing Job. On the other hand there's no book titled, Henry and Mudge and Daddy's big Inheritance either
I know what your thinking - what about Henry's mom? Sure she's cute and perky, hangs around the house barefoot and likes to wear dresses. In another life maybe we could have been friends.
I can tell there's trouble between them though, how else to explain why Henry doesn't have any younger siblings?
Besides, I can read between the lines. In the book where Mudge goes to obedience school, I know she was having an affair with Jack the dog trainer.
Oh, and after the divorce - Mudge will have to live with the mother. Henry will get over it. Kids are resilient.
It's worth nothing that the Henry and Mudge series was written by a woman. Only a woman could create the perfect man.

song: Love the One You're With • artist: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Won't Get Fooled Again

C announced proudly that he'd "fooled" most of his friends Thursday with the old April Fool's Day, did-you-hear-about-that-big-snow-storm-we're-getting? joke.
Of course you got them - it was April 2, why would they be expecting more April Fool's Day jokes?
I always fall for April Fool's Day jokes. They used to air coverage of a "parade" on April 1 on WZLX - maybe they still do. I was a sophomore when I realized it was a joke, I'd totally bought it freshman year.
Last year I was fooled by a spoof issue of the newspaper the local sixth graders put out. The first article I read was about how the toy store on Main Street was going to sell nothing but Barbie merchandise. "What? Nothing but Barbie?" I thought to myself. Where will I buy presents for all the boy birthday parties my kids are going to be invited to for the next decade? I was all broken out in a cold sweat before realizing it was a joke.
I guess it's because adults aren't used to being fooled (except by ads for miracle weight-loss shakes), while for kids - anything is still possible and everything is still questionable.

song: Won't Get Fooled Again • artist: The Who

the hunt (a couplet)

Colorful eggs
for the fastest legs.

Funny Girl

Forgot to mention Ken's contribution to April Fools Day.
He glued quarters to our front step.
Of course he got credit for all the gags this morning.
C couldn't seem to fathom that Mommy could be funny.
Doesn't he know that a sense of humor is paramount to parenting?
Damn.

song: Funny Girl • Artist: Barbara Streisand

Everybody Plays the Fool

Tomorrow is April Fool's Day. The pressure is on. I've sewed his pant legs together, hidden plastic bugs in his lunch box, and switched out the Honey Nut Cheerios for dry cat food.
I was thinking of putting plastic wrap on the toilet but why set myself up for something I'll just have to clean?
On another bright note, I heard the peepers for the first time tonight!
Finally spring!

song: Everybody Plays the Fool • artist: The Main Ingredient

Rockin Robin

It happened again. I waited too long to take the Christmas greens out of the window boxes and a bird has built a nest in them.
It's the box closest to the house so it will give my indoor cat something to look at.
The cat has had a pretty good March. Earlier in the month I expanded her wet cat food varieties. I've been buying the brand Before Grain (B.G). It's 100% of whatever it is, be it chicken, or beef. This time I purchased 100% turkey as well as 100% quail. Mmmm quail. You know what they say - it's all about choice.
They don't make what my cat really wants though: 100% chipmunk, 100% Carolina Wren, or the vegetarian entree - 100% spider plant.

song: Rockin Robin Bobby Day

Sweet Dreams II

A very good day.
They look like bear cubs!

song: Sweet Dreams • artist: the Eurythmics

Sweet Dreams

A very good lunch.

song: Sweet Dreams • artist: the Eurythmics

Closing Time

C wrote a note to H, "I love you, H," it said. It was signed, "love and from C."
Love and from? It seemed redundant, but then I decided it was brilliant.
We (or at least I) spend a lot of time looking for just the right word. Especially when it comes to a closing. I never know how to close an e-mail. "Sincerely" sounds too formal. "Have a good one" too informal. "Ciao" too European for a townie like myself. Sometimes I evoke the weather as with the hopeful, "think spring!" but usually I go with "many thanks" which I consider to be friendly yet professional. Letters are less of a problem. If I'm taking the time to put pen to paper, chances are you rate a "love, Joanne," at the end of the missive.
Kids have no such concerns. Why limit yourself, or agonize over, one perfect word? Use more than one. Use as many as you need - conventional letter-writting etiquette be damned. C could have written, "love, from, miss you, and have a nice day." Frankly, all of which sound more satisfying than "many thanks."

song: Closing Time • artist: Lyle Lovett

Never Tear Us Apart

For the love of Pete - they can put a rover on Mars, why can't they make the lining in a bag of cereal in such a way that it's possible to tear it easily and symmetrically instead of an uneven jagged tear that results in cereal being spilled all over the counter?
How about it all yea masters of engineering? Stop working on improvements to shopping carts to fix the inevitable loose wheel that spins counter clockwise from all the others and get to work on this.
And make that two Mars rovers - so step it up.

song: Never Tear Us Apart • artist: INXS

Horse with No Name

C went to a birthday party yesterday and came home with one of the hollow legs off the donkey-shaped pinata.
Tonight he had it on his arm and was gimping around the house on all fours like an extra in the land-of-play scene from a theatrical revival of Pinocchio.
"I'm turning into a donkey!" he mused.
"No you're not," said H. "You're turning into a pinata."

song: Horse with No Name • artist: America

Train in the Distance

Dear Liz,
Holy cr*p. I have already changed three dirty diapers this morning including one that necessitated an impromptu baby bath and a change of mommy's sweater (it probably needed a good washing anyway).
You'd better not call me to say you missed that train!

song: Train in the Distance • artist: Paul Simon

The Fool on the Hill

Today is St. Patrick's Day, if you are of that ethnic persuasion, or just like to drink green beer and sing the unicorn song in crowded bars.
As an English, Italian, French Canadian, St. Patrick's Day doesn't mean much to me. For me the more important revelation is that there are only 14 more days until April Fool's Day.
Now there's a real holiday.

song: The Fool on the Hill • artist: The Beatles

The Bit*h is Back

The other day I came across the word "termagant" in the biography of Piet Mondrian. He wasn't a termagant, someone in his circle of theological acquaintances was. Mondrian couldn't have been a termagant because by definition (I looked it up) a termagant is a quarrelsome, scolding woman; shrew.
"Gee." I thought. "This sounds a lot like the definition of the word harridan." So I looked that one up. Harridan - (noun) - a vicious, scolding woman; a shrew.
What the heck, I looked up shrew. Shrew - (noun) - a woman with a violent, scolding or nagging temperament.
I don't want to implement Orwell's Newspeak - but do we need all these words that mean the same thing?
And if we do, in all fairness, where are all the words that mean "a scolding, quarrelsome, nagging man?"

song: The Bit*h is Back • artist: Elton John

How Much is that Doggie in the Window?

OMG Tina - Angus is so cute!
I seriously wanted to name one of the twins Angus!
I love that name!
Who would mess with a kid named Angus?
Ken vetoed it.
Guess they'll have to deflect bullies using merely their wits instead of relying on their tough, manly names.
Maybe I should have named one of them Sue.

song: How Much is that Doggie in the Window? • artist: Bob Merrill

Come on See The Show

So it's okay for him to figure skating in the ice show - but it's not okay for his mom to give him a kiss on the cheek for good luck?
Actually there's a lot to be said for male figure skating. For one thing, the show costumes are a lot warmer. Black skates don't have to be polished - and wearing sweatshirts between numbers is okay because you don't have to worry about messing up your hair taking them off over your head.
I've been averaging two cups of mood enhancing tea per day instead of the recommended four to six. Does that mean I'm only half as happy as I could be?

song: Come on See The Show • artist: Emerson, Lake, and Palmer

YMCA

C told me they played a "really boring" game in P.E. yesterday.
"They played this music and you had to make the letters Y M C A with your arms."
And you thought the worst thing your kids might learn in the public school was sex ed.

song; YMCA • artist: The Village People

Goin' Out Of My Head

Kids never seem to know what they want do they? Or maybe it's that they're never happy with what they have - in which case they are just like grown ups.
Recently C was in the living room complaining - loudly - that he couldn't hear his story on CD because H was being too noisy. I managed to redirect H and get him interested in playing indoor basketball. The next thing I knew C was complaining - loudly - that H wouldn't let him play basketball.
Another day C got mad that I wasn't putting applesauce in his lunch box like I was for Henry. You see, applesauce is a acceptable in his lunch because it isn't pink. So I included one with Tuesday's peanut butter and Nutella sandwich - he didn't eat it.
Finally, on another day H was lining up his match box cars on the living room rug. and got mad at the twins because they kept trying to pick them up. I put N & S in their Pack 'n Play along with their noisy farm toy and go off to make dinner. Next time I check on them H is in the Pack 'n Play with his brothers and, of course, I want to yell, "what's wrong with you? Can't you see that I moved your brothers for your benefit? So they wouldn't mess up your things? Get out of there and go back to playing with your cars dammit!"
But I'm taking Effective Parenting classes now so instead I yelled, "what's wrong with you? Can't you see that I moved your brothers for your benefit? So they wouldn't mess up your things? Get out of there and go back to playing with your cars dammit!"

song: Goin' Out Of My Head • artist: Little Anthony and The Imperials

Time in a Bottle

On Sunday C and H buried a time capsule in the back yard. The capsule was a peanut butter jar filled with a variety of random objects and a note that read, "this is a vere old note from the 2 hundridits."
Two days later, on Tuesday, they dug up the capsule and marveled at how no dirt had gotten inside.
Considering our current penchant for instant messaging, instant gratification, and instant oatmeal, they should be commending for waiting as long as they did.

song: Time in a Bottle • artist: Jim Croce

Pink Cadillac

My son can no longer have strawberry yogurt in his lunch box. The other boys make fun of him, "because it's pink."
"What if it was pink pureed raw meat yogurt?" I suggested.
"Nope."
"What if it were orange peach yogurt?"
"Okay."

song: Pink Cadillac • artist: Bruce Springsteen

Relax

Here are some ways that I deal with feelings of total frustration brought on by my children in situations, like the car, where I can't physically get away from them. I either a) whisper "shut up, shut up!" under my breath; b) think about my friend Tom and about how he thought I would be a great mom and resolve not to let him down; c) think about my equally encouraging friend Pam and resolve not to let her down, or d) think about what a great story the incident will make at Effective Parenting Class, and remarkably, one of these usually does the trick.
I now have a new weapon in my arsenal - St John's Wort Caffeine-Free Herbal Tea, purported to encourage a positive mood and purchased mainly because a glass of wine at 10AM is generally frowned upon.
My maximum potential for achieving a "positive mood" through consumption of a non-alcoholic beverage will be reached if I "drink 4-6 cups daily between meals for at least 4 weeks."
If I had the time for four or five cups of tea per day, I think I'd already be in a pretty good mood.

song: Relax • artist: Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Time of Your Life

Hey! My watch is telling the right time again!

song: Time of Your Life • artist: Green Day

Someone to Watch Over Me

Last summer, by happenstance, I read the super-hero graphic novel that's opening today as a movie.
Even though I won't be seeing the movie until its release on DVD (in what? two, maybe three weeks?) I'm still feeling unusually relevant.

song: Someone to Watch Over Me • artist: George Gershwin

Man in the Mirror

Speaking of Michael Jackson, on Sunday I heard "Man in the Mirror" played three times on Sirius radio - two different stations.
The first time I thought, "hey, cool, I haven't heard that song in a long time." I even went as far as thinking it was a pretty deep tune for a Michael Jackson number.
The second time I thought, "that's weird."
The third time I knew that the fates were trying to tell me something - that I'd better, "make that change."
Micheal changed his nose, cheekbones, and the color of his skin.
I wonder where I should start.

song: Man in the Mirror • artist: Michael Jackson

Dangerous

C has been assessing his career options. He's "interested" in space but doesn't want to be an astronaut because that's "too dangerous." He thinks being a plumber might be good, and mentioned once that he'd like to be a receptionist because then he could sit down all day.
Then there's his back-up plan which is to be a baseball player.
He friend Will is planning to be a fireman and C wants to talk him out of it because, that's "too dangerous." Likewise he plans to have a heart to heart with Anthony, who wants to be a policeman.
H left his lunch box at preschool yesterday. My best efforts to assure him it would be okay there until Monday did not go over well so, after we met C at the bus stop I told him to hop in the mini van because we have to go back to North Falmouth and retrieve it.
Instead C suggested that he walk home himself and wait for us there.
Sorry Buddy, that's "too dangerous."

song: Dangerous • artist: Michael Jackson

Big Ten Inch II

School was cancelled today. Preschool too.
I was trapped like a rat in my own home.
Like a rat with a lot of children.
And no peanut butter.
Here's H giving me his breakfast order:
"Honey Nut Cheerios, milk, banana, orange juice, and a vitamin."
C: "What'd he say?"
Mommy: "He said he wants Honey Nut Cheerios, milk, banana, orange juice, and a vitamin."
C: "Oh. I thought he said, 'and Spider-Man.' "
Mommy: "Spider-Man? Well that's just ridiculous."

song: Big Ten Inch • artist: Aerosmith

I Will Survive

Major snow storm today. Or maybe not.
Up to 15 inches. Or maybe not.
Predictions of snowfall always bring out my hoarding instincts. OMG, it might snow! We have no peanut butter in the house! How will we survive a day, one whole day, 24 hours, maybe more (gasp!) without peanut butter? And look at this, we only have an open half-gallon of milk in the fridge. And ham! where's the ham?
Ken assures me that he has four-wheel drive and consequently will be able to make it to the store. I knew there was a reason we kept that truck. Thank heaves because I'm quite sure we'll be down to eating shoe leather by the time he gets home from work.

song: I Will Survive • artist: Gloria Gaynor

The Rain In Spain

Damn. The letter H on my keyboard isn't working right. I have to press down really hard to get it to work. 
It's like I'm typing in a Cockney accent.
"In ampshire artford and arrisire, urricanes ardly ever appen."

song: The Rain In Spain • musical: My Fair Lady

Big Ten Inch

It's hard when you don't always understand what your three year old is saying.
The other morning I thought he was telling me he needed Spiderman. Under my breath I was cursing whoever was foisting licensed characters on my highly impressionable son when he led me over to the kitchen cabinet, pointed up to the lazy Susan and repeated himself: vit-a-min. Whoops! Well that wasn't nothin' compared to the day he was walking around the kitchen asking where his "big stick" was.
Except it didn't sound like big stick.

song: Big Ten Inch • artist: Aerosmith

Angry Young Man

For the past month I've been attending a weekly Effective Parenting classes.
Ken assures me that I don't need to go since, "only losers need parenting classes." I'll be sure to tell all his coworkers what "losers" they are next week when we're talking about temperament in small group discussion.
On the contrary, working towards effective parenting is akin to seeking super hero status. Most of us parent in autopilot. Some of us have a better autopilot than others. It's hard as heck, when faced head on with a parenting issue, to switch off that autopilot and say, "and now I'm going to Parent Effectively." One almost needs to dive into that phone booth and come out wearing a costume with a big EP emblazoned on the chest.
Effective Parenting class has given me the opportunity to evaluate temper tantrums, jot down notes about them and brainstorm how they could have been avoided. Here are a few from last week.
situation: H threw a tantrum at preschool because he didn't want to leave.
solution: Mommy should wait in the mini van until preschool teachers escort H out.
situation: H threw a tantrum when I wouldn't let him eat the three M&Ms from his Valentine booty that fell on the dining room floor.
solution: Keep floor clean.
situation: H threw a tantrum when he didn't get to the kitchen door fast enough to watch Nana's car leave.
solution: Send H with Nana.
situation: H threw a tantrum when sorting buttons because he perceived C as having more buttons than him.
solution: Buttons? Why do we have buttons in the house? Aren't they a choking hazard?
situation: H&C both threw tantrums over their inability to share toys.
solution: Toys? We have toys in the house? Well they have to go. Everyone knows they cause problems.
Good thing there's another 10 weeks to go in the class.

song: Angry Young Man • artist: Billy Joel

Show Me The Way

The stars have aligned twice in a month, allowing me to visit the city again, this time sans children.
My suggestion to view the Shepard Fairey show at the ICA was merely an excuse to get up to Boston and hang out with Liz for a few hours but like my fateful visit to Graceland lo those many years ago, I came away with a genuine appreciation for Mr. Fairey and his art. That's my way of saying I fell for the whole Obey schtick hook, line, and slacker.
Like everyone else at the museum, I also came away with Andre the Giant's stats permanently tattooed on my impressionable brain: 7 feet, four inches, 520lbs.

song: Show Me The Way • artist: Peter Frampton

Never Been To Spain

You know that your kid is desperate for more television viewing when they plead with you to watch the Spanish version of Make Way For Ducklings.

song: Never Been To Spain • artist: Three Dog Night

Things Can Only Get Better

Damn. This is the cold from hell. I have been going to bed earlier and earlier and feeling more and more tired each morning.
Ha. As a typo I just wrote, "this is the old from hell."
That too.

song: Things Can Only Get Better • artist: Howard Jones

Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now!

The Grateful Dead, the Dead, or whatever it is they call themselves now that Jerry Garcia is - well - dead - is touring this spring. WMVY was giving all the dates in case some fans wanted to plan a road trip. A road trip? Well I guess it might be easy for them to get away since real Grateful Dead fans should be reaching retirement age right about now.
They can carpool, charter a bus, rent a Winnebago, hijack the van that drives nursing home patients to their doctor appointments, or just grab a few mobility scooters.

book: Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now! • author: Dr. Seuss

Little Willy

When did Valentine's Day become such a candy orgy?
It used to be there was the occasional heart-shaped box of Whitman's Chocolates for wait-till-the-last-minute, couldn't-think-up-anything-more-original types. Not any more. Now Valentine candy has gone mainstream. My kids' came home from school with a haul rivaling Halloween and without having to exert themselves by walking around the neighborhood.
Contrary to those popular culture stereotypes, we really want our sweethearts fat and toothless

song: Little Willy • artist: Sweet

Pump It Up

Alex Rodriguez used steroids. Is there anyone out there who is surprised by this non-revelation? If so, I've got some proverbial swampland I'd like to sell you.
A-Rod probably doesn't pay his taxes, has undocumented aliens working for him, and cheats on his wife with high-priced prostitutes.
It's the American way.

song: Pump It Up • artist: Elvis Costello

Yummy, Yummy, Yummy

Out of the blue H asked me if I was going to "eat the babies." I assumed that he was kidding and replied that it would be pretty silly of me to "eat the babies."
His response: "remember when you were in the hospital and the doctor helped you get the babies out of your tummy? Did you eat them then?"
I'm a little freaked about this revelation. Do you think he's been wondering for the past 12 months when I was going to eat his little brothers?
Then I remembered that he's got a CD that we play all the time that contains a story about two little girls, Amy and Sarah. When Amy becomes a big sister, Sarah replies that she once had a little brother but she turned into a dinosaur and ate him. I won't spoil the story for you but eventually there's a dinosaur and the baby brother is saved through Amy's quick thinking.
That makes two examples, in H's head, of baby brothers almost being eaten - it all started to make sense.
Then I realized that he's wasn't worried that I, or a dinosaur, might eat N and S. It wasn't a question of if - it was a question of when - and what he was really thinking was "hurry up and eat them already!"

song: Yummy, Yummy, Yummy • artist: Ohio Express

Burning Down The House

Today H mistreated the cat, pounced on C who had a fever and was resting on the couch, continued to throw things after I asked him not to, and broke the Snoopy ruler because he "didn't like Linus on it."
Thankfully he went to bed at 7 - before he could burn the house down.

song: Burning Down The House • artist: Talking House

Squeeze Box

Valentine's Day is about to roll around again. As if you needed a reminder from me.
Since H attends two preschools, he's got at least 30 classmates to send cards to. Because he's 3, I'll end up doing the lions share of the work. Because I'm neurotic, we can't just go out and buy some - we, or make that I, have to make them.
And whatever happened to kid's decorating Kleenex boxes for Valentine's Day? I squirreled away two in anticipation only to get a letter from school requesting shoe boxes instead. Shoe boxes? Kleenex boxes are no problem, especially in the winter, there's always a tissue box being emptied out. The other day the twins got a hold of one and emptied it out a warp speed. If need be, I could even go out and purchase a Kleenex box, take the tissues out, stack them on the back of the toilet, and use the box for a craft project.
But shoe boxes are another matter. I can't go out and buy a new pair of sneakers just for the box although I am coveting a pair of Timberland Earthkeepers (a hint for anyone who missed my birthday last week). Besides, we use all our shoe boxes to store old checks, pay stubs, and various tax receipts. The attic is full of them.
Do you think Ken would notice if I transfered our cancelled checks from 1999-2003 into a used Kleenex box?

song: Squeeze Box • artist: The Who

All Along the Watchtower

The Jehovah's Witnesses are going soft.
This week Ken got a letter, and some lovely magazine clippings, from Carol, who apologized that she couldn't speak with us in person but she'd stopped by and we weren't home.
I'm so disappointed. I know Carol is lying because I'm always home.
If the integrity of the Jehovah's Witnesses is going down the tubes - what hope is there for the rest of us?

song: All Along the Watchtower • artist: Jimi Hendrix

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

The twins had their one-year well-baby visit at the pediatrician's office last week. At not quite 17 pounds each, they are still underweight. It doesn't concern me as they have reached all the same milestones as their big brothers except for being able to face forward in their car seats. They'll get there. Besides, for the time being I think they are happy facing backwards in the car and being able to see what H and C are up to.
The pediatrician, however, felt otherwise and sent Ken home with a handout on high calorie eating.
High calorie eating in the age of obesity? I can't believe a flyer like this even exists. It's like contraband.
The flyer is three pages long, and among other tips to chunk you up, it suggests "keeping snacks handy," "eating a snack before bedtime," snacking on pizza and full fat ice cream with toppings, and putting melted cheese on "vegetables, casseroles, fish, meats, eggs, pasta, and rice."
It isn't meant to be funny (and some of the high calorie shakes sound delicious) but I can't help thinking that the only thing it's missing is suggestions to supersize them there fries and eat Snickers bars (covered in cheese) for breakfast.

Song: He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother • artist: The Hollies

Crazy

As mentioned previously (and a little ruefully), I'm not an expert on anything. As the mother of twins though, I have been asked my opinion on octuplet mom more than once this past week. It's laughable because asking a woman with twins about a woman with octuplets is akin to asking a 10-minute miler about the strategy of ultra-marathoners - sure we're both in the race - but there the similarity ends.
The reaction many people have to the idea of having twins is the same reaction that applies to octuplets. The phrase "I'd shoot myself" gets bandied about which is all very funny unless you happen to know someone who did shoot themselves and then - well - not so much.
As for the mother of eight, who turns out to be the mother of fourteen, the words unstable, or at the very least, unrealistic come to my mind.
But what of Dr. Jeffrey Steinberg, medical director of Fertility Institute, who was quoted as saying with regards to family planning in the case of octuplet mom: "who am I to say that six is the limit?"
Who are you? You're a fertility doctor! Take a little responsibility! Will no one be responsible for anything? Yes, it's irresponsible for a woman to birth eight babies, but it's also irresponsible for professionals - the supposed experts - to not take a stand.
Am I to believe that if I were a 38DD and I went in for breast augmentation surgery the doctor would just keep adding on until I couldn't stand up straight?
If I weighed 98lbs could I get myself a gastric bypass?
I do know that if I already had six dogs and I went to the Friends of Falmouth Dogs asking to adopt another eight puppies, they would politely, but firmly, turn me down.
Know why? Because not only do those volunteers have the best interest of the dogs at heart - they aren't afraid to speak up.
Why even be an expert in the field if you aren't going to give any expert advice?

song: Crazy • artist: Patsy Cline

Bed Are Burning II

First we tried to get a FLEXA bunk bed to match the bed we bought C three years ago but all the local companies that carried FLEXA, which is from Denmark and looks modular and IKEA-like, kept going out of business.
From there Ken decided he would build a bunk bed. "It will only take a day or so," he promised. "I built one in college."
Then Alex moved his kids into separate bedrooms and offered us their bunk beds complete with captain's drawers.
They are still in our garage.
Finally Martha offered us her son's loft bed.
Leave it to my librarian friend to not only provide my sons with books to read while in bed, but to provide them with the actual beds themselves.
Ken put it together in less than 24 hours.
It was like that quote from painter James Whistler, who, when asked by his critics how long it took him to make a particular painting responded, "several hours, and a lifetime."
Getting my big boys into bunk beds took "18 months, and 24 hours."

song: Beds Are Burning II • artist: Midnight Oil

Wild Rover

C and I played hooky on Friday and went up to the Museum of Science.
The MBTA has finally figured out that their parking fare at the Quincy Adams garage, $3.50 per day, was the best deal in town. They've upped it to $7.
C spent the entire subway ride into Boston hopping up and down, first on the red line and then on the green. In perfect city form, the other riders didn't give him a second look.
I was gratified to see people still reading on the subway. I expected that everyone would be yaking on cell phones. They weren't, unfortunately, reading newspapers. The entire trip I saw only one Globe being read. There weren't even the usual tell-tale signs of newspapers on the trains, the ones that get folded up and abandoned on empty seats.
While we were waiting for a Lechmere train to take us to Science Park, I was approached twice by people looking for subway directions. Either I look like I know what I'm doing, or foreign tourists find mothers with young children approachable.
When I was in school I once suggested to my boyfriend that we take the train to Lechmere for the day. I assumed Lechmere was some borough of the city, like the North End. I didn't realize it was a department store until we got there. I was disappointed but it was cold so we went in anyway.
It's not even that anymore. Just an end-of-the-line subway stop with a cryptic name.
I was on the lookout for interesting subway characters, but it wasn't easy to people watch while fielding questions such as "what stop are we?" "what happens if I pull this emergency lever?" "why is it so dark?" "how can the conductor see?" what stop are we?" what's a Haymarket?" "what's at Government Center?" "where are all the pigeons?" "are there roads over us?" "what stop ARE we?" All I could come up with was a guy getting on at Park Street at 5:30 carrying eight plastic bags full of groceries on a rush-hour subway train. I hope he didn't have any eggs with him.
When I was a freshman my then 11-year old sister came to visit for the weekend. We went to the Children's Museum, Salem Witch Museum, and Museum of Science, seemingly all in one day. She fell asleep in the Omni Theater. C fared a little better. Even though he was tired (probably from his subway aerobics) he managed to stay awake and even ask a few questions (surprise!) through the 3PM showing of Roving Mars.
Roving Mars was great but, like all movies, it was spoiled, at least for me, by the ubiquitous litter scene. In the case of this film, the title characters (there are two Mars Rovers) are, themselves, litter.
Seems we can send a Rover to Mars, but we can't get it back home again.

song: Wild Rover • artist: Liam Himself

Psycho Killer

While running errands on Friday I was the victim of verbal assault in my own mini van.
Somehow C got on the subject of braces and why you couldn't eat popcorn while wearing them. Forget that he hasn't lost one baby tooth yet, nor does he eat much popcorn.
I try explaining that popcorn kernels might get caught under braces and he says what if you brush your teeth really well? I try explaining that dentists don't recommend popcorn eating while wearing braces and they are experts on the subject but he persists. Why just popcorn? Why not the white stringy stuff in clementines too?
He's driving me nuts. Soon I will be certifiable. I try to remember to breathe.
He wants to know if the tooth fairy came every time George Washington lost a tooth. He wants to know if George Washington's wife had false teeth too.
He wants to know if the men who shot President Lincoln, President Kennedy, and Martin Luther King got shot themselves.
He wants to know what executed means.
He wants to know what vigilante means.
He wants to know why scientists are going to let the Hubble telescope burn up entering the earth's atmosphere in 2013. He wants to know how the new telescope that scientists plan to launch in 2013 is going to be better than Hubble. He wants to know how scientists know there are 300,000 billion stars in our galaxy.
He wants to know what approximately means.
He wants to know what extrapolated means.
He wants to know why it's pronounced Hubble when there's an "e" on the end and shouldn't that make it Hubble with a hard "u" sound?
I remind myself to breathe again.
I want to know what it was I came in town to buy anyway.

song: Psycho Killer • artist: Talking Heads

We Three Kings

Who can deny that local newspapers are indispensable to the survival of our civilization when they contain items such as the following brief in their police logs?
[January 23, 2009] A Trotting Park Road, Teaticket resident reported finding a three-foot tall statue of a Wise Man at 9:40AM. A police spokesman said she believed the statue was Melchior, the king bearing the gift of gold.
The detail here is crucial. Say, your three-foot tall Wise Man had been stolen. You might be in your car and on your way to Teaticket, were it not for the last line of the brief. See it just so happens that your missing magi was Balthasar, the guy who brought the frankincense.
Your Melchior is safely wrapped in a blue tarp and stored in the shed.

song: We Three Kings • artist: Rev. John Henry Hopkins

choking hazards in my pocket (a list poem)

1 Yahtzee die
1 piece of white chalk
1 coin from the Czech Republic
1 purple magnetic letter "O"
2 green chips from Bug Bingo
1 paper clip

Candle In the Wind

C was so insistent that H not help the twins blow out the candles on their joint birthday cake (one candle per twin) he suggested that we put pepper up their noses so they would both sneeze, and in the process, blow out their own candles.

song: Candle In The Wind • artist: Elton John

The Tide Is High

Yesterday C accidentally tripped up H who fell on the step that divides our kitchen from our dining room and got another nose bleed.
A bad one.
I'm not sure if he'd get less nose bleeds if only he could stop, "digging for treasure" up there.
Incidentally, when I tell him there is no treasure up his nose he insists that nose goopies ARE treasure.
So he's bleeding on the floor, and on his sweater, and on his socks - and I ask C to get a paper towel, get it wet, and mop up the floor so it doesn't look like a crime scene.
He does a mediocre job. It ends up looking like a hastily cleaned up crime scene.
Later in the evening I'm reading to everyone on the couch and I've got one of the twins on my lap. The other is down by my feet only I can't see him over the long arm of my Mission-style couch.
I ask C to see check on him.
"What's he doing?" I ask.
"He spilled your glass of wine."
Sure enough, there's wine all over the living room floor. The baby is sitting in a pool of it.
My life is one big stain remover commercial.

song: The Tide Is High • artist: Blondie

American Dream

After President Obama's inaugural address yesterday there was a big queue at the lunchroom microwave.
Guess nobody wanted to have to admit to their kids 20 years from now that they were nuking their vegetarian chili entree (or worse in the bathroom!) while the first African American President was being sworn into office.

song: American Dream • artist: Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

It's Today

Do you feel it? The pressing weight of the historical significance of this day?
It's visible in the air.
Last night C was trying to force a civics lesson on H.
C: Do you know who is going to be President tomorrow?
H: Papa?
C: No!
H: Nana?
C: No!
H: Big Jim?
C: No! It's not anyone you know. We just know his name.
H: You?
C: No! You have to be 35 years old.
H: Silas?
C: No! It's Barack Obama. Can you say Barack Obama?

Barack Obama.

song: It's Today • musical: Mame

Penguins II

As if the inauguration weren't enough, January 20 is also Penguin Awareness Day.
How very appropriate, I think there is a penguin colony forming in my backyard right now.
They'll be able to celebrate alongside the squirrels who live there since Squirrel Awareness Day is on January 21.

song Penguins II • artist: Lyle Lovett

Dream On

I dreamt the other night that I met the President Elect at some kind of news conference and he noticed that I'd scribbled his name all over my notebook like a schoolgirl - and - he asked me to the prom! No - not really. He's too mature for that even in my dreams. He gave me his autograph and I explained the childish doodles by saying I was excited about the direction which the country was headed in, "like the rest of the nation."
Nice catch.
It was the first time I ever had a dream the featured the president.
I once dreamt I was a Bon Jovi groupie. One of the lucky ones if you know what I mean.
Then there was that dream I had about John Malkovich after seeing Dangerous Liaisons. But that was really just about his wig.

song: Dream On • artist: Aerosmith

Wanted Man

The Tao of My Twins: Lesson 3

If it's lying on the floor, I want it.
If he has it, I want it.
If I have it, I want it.

song: Wanted Man • artist; Johnny Cash

Places I Remember

Your favorite ugly statue was in the Globe on Wednesday.
I recognized it even covered in snow.
Quest Eternal. I'd forgotten it had a name.

song: Places I Remember • artist: The Beatles

I Just Want To Be Your Everything

Tough week. Mr. Roarke and now Andrew Wyeth. I couldn't think up a clever rhyme for Mr. Wyeth so I have this to offer. Say what you will about the Helga Hype, this print of the Flour Mill hangs in our living room. I bought it in college. It's one of my favorites.

song: I Just Want To Be Your Everything • artist: Andy Gibb

clerihew for Mr. Roarke

Ricardo Montalban
that debonaire don juan.
He defined the 80s
and scored with the ladies

appeal to the weather gods (a tercet)

I'd like to speak for everyone
and say this snow's been really fun
but now we'd rather it be done

Slip Sliding Away

Had to don my extreme weather apparatus in order to get down to the bus stop this morning.
That's right. I wore my Yaktraxs.

song: Slip Sliding Away • artist: Paul Simon

Beds Are Burning

Yesterday, Talk of the Nation was doing a segment on the upcoming inauguration. One of the things that caught my ear was comments about coordinating of the arrival of moving trucks at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue - the ones that will be removing President Bush's furniture, and the ones that will be unloading President Obama's.
I always assumed that the White House was one rental that came furnished.

song: Beds Are Burning • artist: Midnight Oil

Turn Around

The problem of the van's automatic sliding door freezing stuck was solved yesterday when I inadvertently left it open for three hours after bringing the twins in the house.
Wasn't frozen at all when we left for 3:30 preschool pick up.
It's raining out now so it will nice and frozen tomorrow, which is good because I like a challenge. Loading 11-month old twins and a three year old into the car and trying to get somewhere (anywhere!) on time, isn't difficult enough, I enjoy the added layer of having to slide them into the car seats and buckle their five-point harnesses in from the driver's seat.

song: Turn Around • artist: Harry Belafonte

Captain Kidd

These icy freezing days spent waiting for H and C with the twins in the car make it hard for self-rightous mommy to keep to her usual anti-idling ways.
The boys were awake when I dropped H off at preschool. They were crying when I left the little library after (finally!) returning Mary Poppins. They were asleep after our trip through the bank's drive up window. Life is good! The only thing that would make it better would be a trip through the drive through of my North Falmouth fantasy coffee shop to be located somewhere between the bank and the library.
We exchanged Mary Poppins for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang which the kids insisted on watching immediately. Let me just say two things. First, I'm putting the kabash on watching full-length movies during the week. Second, from now on I'm reading movie reviews on anything that Ken remembers as a classic from his childhood. In the immortally plagiarized words of Lloyd Bentsen, I've seen Mary Poppins, but Senator, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is no Mary Poppins."
Next up: I've requested Treasure Island - three-and-a-half stars.

song: Captain Kidd • artist: Great Big Sea

Such A Night

Tonight, out of the blue, C asked me to make him a peanut butter and banana sandwich for tomorrow's lunch.
Could it be that I gave birth to Elvis's love child through immaculate kingception?

song: Such A Night • artist: Elvis Presley

Amoeba Hop

My dad has taught the twins how to clap. They've reached that Pavlovian stage where, if you say "yeaaaaaaaah," in a high pitched voice, they will automatically grin and start clapping like harbor seals. If you put them in their LLBean baby buntings the effect is even more seal-like.
Lying on their backs in their buntings the twins look like starfish. Dr. Seussian starfish since one is red and the other blue (one starfish, two starfish, red starfish, blue starfish...). If you put them on their stomaches in their buntings and they start squirming about trying to maneuver into crawling position, then they look like amoebas.
Papa is also trying to teach the twins to make noise by getting them to open their mouths wide and slap them repeatedly with their hands. "Whoop like an Indian!" he encourages them. It's kinda cute but politically speaking it's disturbingly incorrect.
When they aren't whooping, the twins favorite activity is pulling all the CDs out of the bottom cubbies of our CD holder. The CDs are, or were, in alphabetical order which means the the Rolling Stones, Warren Zevon, and Tom Waits are being strewn about the living room daily. In the very bottom cubbies are, or were, my collection of operas. These have taken a real beating. The twins have cast aside Carmen, tossed Tosca, trashed Traviata, turned over Turandot, and bashed Bohéme.

song Amoeba Hop • artist: Christine Lavin

Accidents Will Happen II

In case you missed it on my Facebook page, in the "what are you doing right now," box I just filled in: "cleaning up puke."
Not my own of course, though it was my own fault since he did say his stomach hurt.
"Look, Mommy, it's chicken soup. See the carrot?"
For some reason he was on his way upstairs from lying on the living room couch when the sh*t hit the fan so to speak; so, after he was done we had a little talk about how, if you think you are about to throw up, you need to run to the nearest bathroom, and not head for the upstairs bathroom when there's a perfectly good downstairs bathroom to throw up in.
This tops off a night when H executed a perfect 6.0 crib dive in which he smashed his face into the footboard and gave himself a bloody nose.
That reminds me, I should get some Spray 'N Wash onto his powder blue pajamas with the footies so the blood washes out. Good thing pajama day was last Friday because I'd hate to have him show up for preschool in his favorite blood-stained pjs.

song: Accidents Will Happen II• artist: Elvis Costello

Penguins

Proof positive that H is the "black penguin" of the family.

song: Penguins • artist: Lyle Lovett

Bad Day

Knowing that everything doesn't really happen to you still fails to soften the blow when it feels like everything happens to you. Woke up yesterday at 8:10. Ran screaming into C's room and told him to get up quick and get dressed or he was going to miss the bus. Had him quivering under his covers in fear of crazy Mommy when Ken finally came upstairs to tell me school had been delayed two hours on account of freezing rain.
"I turned off the alarm so you could sleep in," he said.
Okay then, I suppose in retrospect that was nice.
I apologize to C who's still hiding under the blankets.
Even though we've now got an extra two hours to get ready the rush is still on to get to the bus stop by 10:30.
H goes to preschool at 11:30. It didn't seem worth it to drive home and unload everyone for 40 minutes. The gas light is on so we head to the full service Getty station for a fill up. As I'm pulling away from the pump, my three year old tells me, "he forgot to take it out," a phrase that on it's own could be seriously misconstrued. I haphazardly assure H that everything's fine and continue my exit. There follows a loud clanking noise confirming what H had been trying to tell me. He'd forgotten to take it out all right so I get out, replace the nozzle and put the gas cap back on myself, accepting apologies from the station attendant. I in turn apologize to my son for not listening to him when he was plainly trying to convey useful information.
We park at the beach as it's still not time for preschool. I read a book about some American mice detectives who fly to Scotland to solve a haunted house mystery. The only mystery I can discern is why don't the American mice wear pants.

I head over to preschool and gingerly walk H down the icy driveway only to be met by the teacher who informs me that on days when school is delayed, preschool is automatically cancelled. She apologizes for having not called me. I am gracious. My entire day thus far has been a wash except for having successfully gotten gas. I explain to H that even though we've been killing time for the past 45 minutes, there is, in fact, no school today.
We shuffle back to the car and head home.
While I'm unloading the twins, H slips in the driveway, falls in a puddle, and soaks himself.
"I wanted you to carry me," he wails.
He gets even more upset when I walk up the stairs ahead of him.
"I wanted to beat you, Mommy." He says.
I'm beaten, baby. I'm beaten.

song: Bad Day • artist: R.E.M.

Jerusalem

They need to put a few mothers in charge of the Israeli Palestinian conflict.
A mother would go in a tell both sides, "look, if you can't get along in this here Gaza strip I'm going to take it away - and nobody gets to play with it."
Then she'd kick everyone out for not using their indoor voices and pass some sort of legislation designating the entire area as a nature preserve or something.

song: Jerusalem • artist: Steve Earle

Is That All There Is?

Dear Liz,
So, how did the pork chops come out you ask?
C had these words of advice during dinner last night.
"Mommy. This meat is very chewy. I don't think you should give any to the babies."
He also commented that my garlic potatoes made his mouth tingle.
Pork chops, bah. Who needs 'em? They remind me entirely too much of women who used to cook dinner in aprons and pearls.
Speaking of eating, the twins, who will eat anything - food or otherwise, have developed a healthy appetite for cheese. They can eat broken up pieces at an alarming rate. Not faster than the speed of light perhaps but faster than the speed at which Mommy can turn around and replenish their supply.
I think they may be the fastest cheese eaters ever, though not the neatest. I noticed one had cheese in his hair as I was wrestling them into their car seats on our way to pick up N at preschool.
It's only fitting since Ken was born in Wisconsin, making him the patriacal cheesehead.

song: Is That All There Is? • artist: Peggy Lee

One More Try

The Tao of my Twins: Lesson 2
If it looks good enough to eat - might as well give it a try!
What the heck. If it's not edible that crazy long-haired lady will come and fish it out of your mouth.

song: One More Try • George Michael

Looking Forward

There is no surer way to get kids interested in something than to a) throw it in the trash, b) throw it in the recycle bin, or c) throw it in the fireplace.
Forget all that stuff you got them for Christmas. What they really want to play with is garbage. H & C took plastic gallon containers out of the recycle box today and used them as microphones. Then they went through the rest of the recycling, checking to see which cans they could pick up with the giant magnet.
At least the giant magnet was a Christmas present.
Earlier in the day they removed pieces of a sawed up chair from the fireplace. Note to Ken: if you're going to cut up a chair and put it in the fireplace you need to burn it immediately. Note to everyone else: the chair was on its way out, times aren't so tough that we're burning our furniture for heat - yet.
Not to worry about the heat though because spring is just around the corner. Ken came home from the post office yesterday with a 200-page seed catalogue and a second catalogue advertising course listings for spring yoga retreats in Stockbridge.
I love their optimism.

song: Looking Forward • artist: John Gorka

The Cask of Amontillado

If only.

story: The Cask of Amontillado • author: Edgar Allan Poe

Don't Cry Baby

The Tao of my Twins: Lesson 1
If everything is making you cry, it's time to take a nap.

song: Don't Cry Baby • artist: Etta James

Twilight Zone

My new year's resolution is to make good use of my time.
I like the open-endedness of that one don't you?
That would explain why I spent last night watching three-and-a-half hours of the Twilight Zone marathon.
Just trying to get it all out of my system.

song: Twilight Zone • artist: Golden Earring

new year's couplet

amidst high winds
the year begins