Dinosaur Blues

…Guess I took a bit of an impromptu hiatus there.

I’ve got a bad case of the blahs and the blechs and the blues, and have just NOT been feeling great for the last week or so.  At least it’s finally starting to resemble fall here in Phoenix (87?!), so maybe that will help.

Strangely, all my discontent seems to be channeled into hating one thing:  DINOSAURS.

I haaaaaaaaaaaaaate dinosaurs.  HATE!  HATE!  HATE!  I want to kill all the dinosaurs (actually, thanks for that, nature), and smash all the dinosaur toys, and mostly, punch my fist through the TV every morning when Moo begs to watch the newish PBS show, “Dinosaur Train.”  Oh sure, the dinosaurs are all cute and friendly and they ride a train around the Cretaceous time period and learn about dinosaur species but I want to RIP OFF THEIR HEADS and SMASH THEM INTO A BLOODY, LIZARDY PULP.  And for God’s sake, STOP TALKING ABOUT CARRION! 

I miss Caillou.

Hmm, yes.  So what else is going on?  Hey, you know what might save me from the dinosaurs?  A new obsession for Moo.  And you know what might be the perfect thing to usher in a new obsession?  A trip to Disneyland!  I think we’re going – we’ve scored some free tickets (yessss) that have to be used by the end of December.  Herbie and I plopped Moo on our laps last night and showed her pictures of Disneyland on the computer, and she ate it all up while Herbie and I wondered why Disneyland seemed smaller than we remembered.   And why were all the people in the video Asian?  Were there really that many Asian people in California?  Then we realized we’d happened upon the Hong Kong Disneyland site.  Well, same idea.  Moo is very excited to do a dance for Donald Duck and ride the train (wait till she sees Dumbo!), and we’ve already been assigned roles – I’m Mickey, Herbie’s Goofy (of course), and she’s Daisy – so hopefully Disney will wipe those pesky dinosaurs off the map for good.

In other news, Moo got her H1N1 vaccine on Saturday, so I hope we will avoid the pandemic that seems to be sweeping at least Facebook, if not the whole country.  It was a bit scary giving her a new vaccine, but I did my research and it hasn’t seemed to affect her at all, except for her insistence that we Do. Not. Touch. The Bandaid.  We took a different approach this time, telling her on the way (thank God it was a Saturday and Herbie could come) that we were going to stop at the doctor’s office and get a vaccine so she’d stay healthy.  She nodded wisely and kept her composure until the nurse led us into the room of doom, where she started screaming like a frightened monkey.  She couldn’t get a grip, so Herbie had to hold her while I stretched out her little leg and watched as the needle poked through her pale skin.

Luckily, a cherry lollipop will always solve just about all that ails you.

Maybe I should try one myself.

Bugs in Disguise

When Rosalind proposed going to see the butterfly exhibit at the Desert Botanical Garden a couple weeks ago, I jumped at the chance.  Beautiful butterflies!  Moo would love it!

“Of course,” Rosalind said, “I probably won’t go in with you.”

“What?”

“Butterflies are just bugs wearing costumes.  They don’t fool me.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to bring us to a butterfly garden and then stand outside by yourself?  Moo will be very displeased.”

“Well, maybe I’ll go in for a second.  We’ll see.”

Rosalind does not like bugs.  I don’t like bugs, but Rosalind REALLY DOES NOT LIKE BUGS.  My fear comes close, but I draw the line at butterflies - so pretty!  Granted, she’s had some negative experiences with butterfly releases gone awry at weddings she’s shot (“The butterflies–they’re everywhere!!!), but I hoped she’d have the courage to share the butterfly love with us.

She did.

Butterfly dance:

Thanks for being brave, Rosalind!  And thanks for the pictures.

The butterfly exhibit will be at the Desert Botanical Garden until November 15 – if you’re a local, I highly recommend it – so lovely and peaceful!  Word of advice:  Pick a cool day, when the butterflies are more fluttery, and go after lunch, when all the school groups are gone.

Catalog Love

I am obsessed with the Crate & Barrel Christmas Catalog.  Every night, while Herbie reads books to Moo, I flip through it’s glorious red and white and silver pages, knowing, KNOWING, that life would be absolutely perfect if only we owned every single thing in this catalog.

Like this:

How can I survive the holidays without cute red birdie plates and placemats?  I CANNOT.

And this!

Does that make you happy like it makes me happy?  And longing for December?  Never mind that we don’t have a fireplace or mantel to put this on… I could put it on…the kitchen counter!  Sure!  That would distract quite nicely from all the dirty dishes.

HOW DO I MAKE MY HOUSE LOOK LIKE THAT?  Obviously, I’ll need wallpaper.  Or can I use paint?  And then I have the fireplace problem again.  Can you tell that I really love red-and-white for Christmas?  Ahhh, Christmas.  I can’t wait.  I know it’s all about giving and loving and all that gooey stuff, but at this moment I am embracing the GREEEEEED.  I would like to kiss this catalog.   Maybe more.  (Don’t tell Herbie.) 

 And I’m not sure, but I think it smells like peppermint.

Happy Halloween!

We’re All Mad Here

I think I’ve mentioned that Moo is going to be the White Rabbit for Halloween, inspired by her cousin Clara’s Alice in Wonderland dance recital – so, technically, a White Rabbit Ballerina.  Here it is in the making:

Thanks, Mom!  It’s even sparklier now that it’s almost done.

Herbie is going to be the Mad Hatter, and he has a Cat in the Hat hat which I think we can cover with colorful felt (when?), and maybe he can wear his kooky tuxedo jacket (because these are interpretive Alice in Wonderland costumes, not literal – I mean, the White Rabbit is wearing a tutu).  And I was supposed to be the Cheshire Cat, wearing this fantastic costume:

(Except with modest black tights and a leotard underneath, of course.)  It’s the exact costume the cheshire cat wore in Clara’s show, and it was $23 on Amazon on September 25.  Of course I procrastinated, and on October 15, it was $50, in extra-small only.  Unfair!

I was unwilling to wear this:

LOVE that guy.

So I made a trip to Buffalo Exchange, thinking maybe I could find something to pass off as the Cheshire Cat, or if not, Alice or the Queen of Hearts.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like people wear a lot of pink-and-purple striped clothes, or if they do, they don’t want to give them away.  And people also don’t wear light blue sundresses with pretty puffed sleeves.  So I was outta luck on Alice and Cheshire Cat.  But I did find a strapless red prom dress with a black beaded overlay (not as pretty as it sounds) that I thought I could make work for the Queen of Hearts.  Maybe if I found a cape that I could cover with felt hearts?  I dug into the men’s costume section, and finally found one used vampire cape…with what I strongly suspect is a big splotch of puke.

I still bought it.  It’s been sitting in a bag for three days waiting for me to clean it, but – ew.  I mean, I am going to just cut that part off to make a shorter, jauntier cape, but I still don’t really want to touch that thing again. 

Hopefully I’ll find my courage (perhaps I left it in my rose garden, or on the croquet court) and create the perfect heart-festooned cape out of my puke-poncho.  Then all I need is a cheap crown and a heart scepter and I’m ready to rule my minions.

**I was just about to publish this when I remembered that the whole reason I wanted to write about our Halloween costumes was because we went to Dee’s Dancewear today to get Moo her first pair of ballet shoes, and they were tiny and adorable, and I immediately turned into an Annoying Mom and insisted on showing off to the store owner (Dee?) how Moo knows how to arabesque and pas de chat and I totally embarrassed myself, and so…yeah.  Tiny ballet shoes are super cute.

Moo’s Big Bonk Day

A few days ago we went to visit Moo’s friend …  Steggie (renamed from Hit-It, he’s outgrown that name).  When we got there, Steggie was in the backyard, being, well – a BOY.

Here’s Moo playing:

(With a handful of assorted toys, usually a butterfly, a ladybug, and maybe a horse):  “La, la, oh hello Butter!  Hi Ladybug!  Let’s have a tea party, okay!  Do you want a donut, I’d love a donut, I love STRAWBERRY donuts!  Okay, here you go!  Yum!  Oh look, Baby Horse is here!”

Here’s Steggie playing:

(Running around the backyard, jumping, leaping, hitting various balls with various instruments):  “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

There’s just sort of a different energy level there, am I right?

So I sat down on a patio chair and watched Steggie fish baseballs out of the pond and wheel his tricycle around like Lance Armstrong.  “Well, Moo is probably going to get hurt today,” I thought as Moo cowered next to me, clutching Hop and her purse.  Not because Steggie’s aggressive or anything, just because there were lots of things being catapulted through the air, and Moo has very little experience with flying objects.  I was worried.  But then I thought, Maybe Moo needs to get hurt more.  I mean, not bleeding gashes, please no, but I’ve got a cautious girl and it might be good for her toughen up a little.  Right?

So I jumped into the fray and dragged Moo with me, who soon caught the run-around fever, and kept up with Steggie as best she could.  After baseball, hide n’ seek, foot races, and a few rounds of “Can You Do This?”, Steggie’s babysitter suggested we go out front with the sidewalk chalk.  That sounded like a nice change of pace, so we all settled down and drew dinosaurs, until the babysitter was called inside by the crying twins.  So there we were, Steggie, Moo, and I, and after one more pteranadon portrait, Steggie remembered something much more fun than sidewalk chalk – GAMES WITH BALLS!

Moo was willing, and skipped after him into the garage, where Steggie procured a basketball! and a soccer ball! and a football! and a baseball! and many, many golf balls! and a frisbee, and – zziiiing!  BONK!

Frisbee to the forehead.

Moo wailed.  I scooped her up and patted her back while Steggie nervously asked, ”Is she okay? Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, Steggie.  It’s okay, it was just an accident.”

Steggie tried to make Moo feel better by relating the story of his own forehead ouchie, which he apparently got while somersaulting into the pond.  And right at that moment, I thought, “Wow.  I don’t know if I could handle a boy.”

Moo declared that the only thing that could make her feel better was a kiss from Hop, so I set her down, she wiped her tears away and ran toward Hop – only to trip over her own feet and BLAMMO – land splat on the driveway.

Wailing.  Tears.  “Is she okay?”  Kiss from Hop.

After a couple minutes of kisses and hugs, Moo recovered somewhat and said she was ready to go inside and play dinosaurs.  So she stood up, took three steps, and KA-BLAMMO! tripped over herself again, but this time somehow performed a triple axel on the way down, first banging and skinning her knee and then flipping over and whamming her head on the concrete.

Okay.  I think that’s enough toughening up for one day.

That night, I decided three things – first, maybe my plan to just throw Moo into the fire worked, because she proudly showed off her ouchies to Herbie when he got home.  Two – maybe Moo needs some new shoes.  And three – I gotta teach this kid how to catch.  Or duck.

It’s a Miracle!

Yesterday at naptime, I went about our routine as usual, putting Doc away for his nap, helping Moo pick out books to read, and wrangling all the animals into their assigned locations (in bed, in baskets, or on couch with us).  I picked up Happy the Jack o’ Lantern and tossed him into Moo’s bed, and then watched him sail through through the crib rails and fall behind her bed.  I thought about just leaving him there until Herbie got home so he could drag the bed out from the corner, but then I remembered that the last two nights we’d had to frantically search for him after we put Moo to bed and she discovered him missing.  So I tried climbing in Moo’s bed to see if I could reach Happy that way, but quickly realized the bed was not made to hold me.  Then I tried using a yard stick to scoot him out, but no luck.  With Moo calling me from the playroom, I gave up, held on and gave three mighty tugs.  I took two steps, looked down, and right there on the ground between Happy and six sucky’s, I saw something that SHOCKED me.

What did I see, Moo?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey, what’s that in your hand, Moo?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s STRIPER!  STRIPER!!!!  (Which is exactly what I screamed when I saw him – Striper! Striper! as Moo called,  “What, Mommy, what?” and we all met in a tearful, huggy reunion in the hallway.)  Do you REMEMBER?  Remember how I asked at a hundred stores and restaurants and oh, also how I LOOKED BEHIND HER BED?  I even used a flashlight!  I just didn’t think to pull out the bed from the wall, because how could he have rolled all the way under there?  What a sneaky snake.

Oh Striper, we’re so happy to have you back!  We thought you were gone forever.  To celebrate, we invited all of Striper’s friends to a welcome back tea party after dinner, and everyone got M&M’s. 

And so Striper is back to sussing and dancing and slithering, and back where he belongs – snuggled with Moo and Hop in her cozy, cozy bed.  And now I know – ALWAYS pull out the bed.

Practicing Safe Coverage

Is it just me, or is the cast of Glee frolicking with giant condoms?

Do You Think Safeway Would Go For This?

Oh, how I wish this would happen JUST ONCE when I’m at the grocery store!

Target Lady

Yesterday Moo and I went to Target so I could pick up some groceries and Moo could say hello to her friends the Cat, Spider, and Bat (Target Halloween decorations).  She helped me pick out a new coffee thermos for Herbie, we looked at all the Halloween cakes, I resisted the dollar section (okay, no I didn’t, we bought a robot plate), and we were done.

So, whenever it comes time to swipe my card, Moo wants a turn with the pen thingy that you use to punch in your PIN number.  I have always allowed her to do this, after I’ve done my business and it’s just a blank screen, except for the “cancel” button in the corner which I cover with one finger while she taps at the screen.  Moo is not a wild kid.  We have never had to worry about her tearing apart our house, drawing on the walls, chewing on cords, or climbing the shelves.  So far she has never even tried to climb out of her bed.  So I think I’m a pretty good judge of whether or not she can handle a little checkout pen thingy.

I did my business, swiped and punched in my PIN, while sitting in the cart, Moo repeatedly asked me to share.  “I will, I’ll share, sweetie, be patient,” I said.  And then I finished and handed her the pen.

At which point the checkout lady yanked it out of her hand, snapped “No, no, noooo!” and wagged her finger in Moo’s face.  Moo was shocked.  I was shocked.  My first instinct was to snap, “Excuse me, I told her she could use it.  If you have a problem with that, you can tell me.”  But then I had second thoughts, like always, because I am a person cursed with second thoughts.  So I didn’t say anything, and rolled Moo away from the paying area.  I sent out what I hoped were cold, arctic vibes to the checkout lady while I wondered if all previous checkout people had silently cursed me when I let Moo fiddle with the pen.  I looked over at Moo, who was staring at the lady and clutching Hop to her cheek like she does when she’s scared.  So I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she whispered back.

I gave the checkout lady one more whithering glare as I snatched my receipt from her and we rolled away.  Right then I realized I should have said something.  Why didn’t I say anything?!  Oh, I hate confrontation.  But dammit, I should have stood up for my daughter, and I think the checkout lady was totally oblivous to my silent hate.

Once we were out of the store, I gave Moo a hug and said, “That lady wasn’t very nice, was she?”

“No, she wasn’t!” Moo cried, sounding relieved that I was on her side.

“I guess she was worried that you were going to break the pen,” I said.  “But she wasn’t very nice about it.”

“No, she wasn’t!”

“Sometimes grown-ups forget to be nice, too.  You didn’t do anything wrong, Moo,” I said, ruffling her hair.

“Okay, Mommy,” she sighed, and I could see the weight lift off her shoulders.

Hey, what can I say?  I’ve got a sensitive kid.  Back off, Target Lady.  …Still wish I’d said something.

So should I not let Moo play with the pen thingy anymore?  And what the heck is that pen thingy called, anyway?