Head, Shoulders, Knees and…Hand, Foot and Mouth

So there’s this virus, I guess?  Coxsackie, apparently?  (Yes, the name makes me giggle a little.)  Which can also be called Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease?  Which I guess is what Moo has?

SIGH.

Moo woke up humming to herself as usual, but when I went in, she immediately whimpered and complained that her mouth hurt.  Me:  Ehhhh? 

We’re done with teeth!  All the teeth are in!  There should be no more mouth-pain complications in our life, ever again!  Sooo go back to sleep, I’ll come back in, say, in 20 minutes?  And you will giggle and toss all your animals out of bed like usual, and I will be a happy mommy.  Mmm, kay?

No.

I got her up, read her a book, sang her some songs, and as she settled in to play, I decided she must have just bitten her tongue.  So I dropped her off at my mom’s house as planned, and I promised to call a little later to check up.

I picked her up about 10 minutes after I called.  She was still complaining about her cheeks/mouth/teeth, felt cold, and had bright pink cheeks.  I’d called the doctor and left a message that morning, but no one had returned my call.  So I put on my Serious Mommy voice, called back and acted bitchy with the receptionist until I heard our doctor in the background saying, “Is that my Moo you’re talking about?  Give me the phone!”  Ahh, I knew I liked her.

So….Tylenol, lotsa water, lotsa rest, and expect painful, sore ulcery, blistery things on the inside of her mouth.  Great.  After I got Moo home and settled in bed, I looked up “hand, foot, and mouth disease” and learned that it’s common among little ones and usually contracted in preschools and play centers, etc.  Then there’s a big lectury paragraph saying make suuuuuure you always wash your hands after pooping, and make suuuuure you’re teaching your child good hygiene habits!  And now I am sitting here worrying and glowering, and I’m pretty suuuuure this article thinks that we are gross, disgusting parents, who let their child build sand castles out of poop.

Stupid germs.

Turnaround Day

I started out scowling - when I got out of the shower at almost-8, Moo was already chattering in bed, and I have come to cherish some alone-time with my doctor-approved cup of coffee (oh nectar of the gods) before she gets up.  Then once she got up, she kept begging me to please, please play with her, and I had to deny her again and again as I rushed around getting our breakfast, drying my hair, getting us dressed in time to get out the door.  By the time we pulled on our shoes, we were both scowling at each other.  I got into the car dreading the day.

I don’t know what happened, but we ended up having a lovely Friday. 

-We sang “Be Our Guest” and “Under the Sea” in the car, and Hop did somersaults on Moo’s lap.

-A cop followed me on the freeway, but didn’t pull me over.

-We danced and sang at My Gym.  Moo had a nice long chat about the tour of her preschool with her favorite teacher, Mr. Jason. 

-She found the courage to just! let! go! (so hard) and hang from the parallel bars for the very first time.

-She got monkey and heart stamps on her hands.

-We treated ourselves to a Strawberries n’ Cream Starbucks smoothie.

-We ordered our sandwiches at AJ’s, and Moo gazed at the Valentine’s Day decorations while I chatted with two nice ladies who had daughters my age about the best toys of the 80’s (Holly Hobbie, Strawberry Shortcake, Smurfs).

-We dined inside next to the flower display and watched a table full of giggly girls.  I wondered if I was that giggly when I was 15 (I was).  I wondered if Moo will be that giggly when she’s 15 (probably).

-Moo noticed all the football balloons and asked what’s up.  “There’s a big football game this weekend that lots of people get excited about,” I told her.  “But we don’t really like football.”  “I like football, Mommy!” she corrected me.  “Gramps likes football!  Maybe I should watch the football game with Gramps so he doesn’t get lonely.”

-We ate our free-with-sandwich chocolates, and we played at the table.

Any day that ends with sandwiches, chocolates, and ponies is fine by me.

Insidious Princesses

I feel as though the princesses have closed rank around us and are slowly advancing, lifting up their sequined skirts and tip-toeing in on satin slippers.

They’re coming for Moo.

I don’t know how it happened – we haven’t seen any of the movies, we didn’t visit the princesses at Disneyland, we don’t have any princess books.  But suddenly, one day last week, Moo announced she was Snow White.  Damn!  The next day, she was Cinderella.  Augh!  The princesses are unavoidable.  You walk into a grocery store, bookstore, drugstore, I bet even a seminar on herpetology – there would still be pictures of Belle and Jasmine plastered on the walls.  And when Moo points to one and says, “What’s her name?”  What can I do?  I guess I could have lied and said Florence Nightingale or Dian Fossey…SHOOT, why didn’t I think of that?  Too late now.

I admit as a child, I loved Cinderella.  I pored over my beloved Cinderella book (better not let Moo find that) and even dressed up like the glass-slippered-one for Halloween.  But there’s just so damn many of them now!  I knew Moo’s interest in princesses was inevitable, but I was really hoping to avoid the obssession for as long as possible. 

My sister Fiona has an almost-six-year-old and so far, they’ve deftly walked the line between interest and obsession with princesses.  I’m still hoping to follow suit.  Fiona’s warned me about the super-obsessed princess girls, and her stories are disturbing.  Hell, I’ve seen them for myself.  A generation of princess-obsessed girls (thanks, Disney marketing department) have become obsessed with their looks, visiting salons at age 5, referring to themselves proudly as spoiled brats, expressing a sense of entitlement that will probably stretch all the way to adulthood.  And I don’t know much about her, but I don’t think Miley Cyrus has helped much, so I’ll put some of the blame on her, too.

For a while, Moo loved the Disney fairies.  Disney developed a whole back story around Tinkerbell, giving her friends, and more importantly, a JOB.  I think this is awesome.  The princesses – what do they do?  Look pretty and wear dresses.  But the fairies all have unique talents – Tinkerbell is good at fixing things, Lily is good at gardening, Dulcie loves to bake - and they all feel personally fulfilled while at the same time contributing to the fairy community as a whole.  That is FANtastic!  Moo still likes the fairies, but she hasn’t asked me to be Dulcie in a couple weeks, leaving me worried that they’re being pushed aside for princess fever.

And yes, I know I’m probably worrying too much.  It’s just what I do.

A few days ago, Moo and I were playing pretend.  She was Snow White and I was Snow White’s mommy (and that’s another thing – all those missing/dead mothers make me very uncomfortable).  Moo threw herself down on the couch, proclaimed herself sick, and demanded a story to make her feel better.  “What story?” I asked, playing along.  Moo thought a moment and then brightened.  “How ’bout Cinderella?”

And so I unspooled my toddler-friendly version of Cinderella, which went something like this:  “Once upon a time there was a very nice girl named Cinderella, who lived in a big house with three not nice ladies who made her do all the chores and never helped or said thank you.  Then one day there was a big dance party at the castle nearby.  Cinderella wore the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen, and gorgeous glass slippers.*  She went to the party and met a very nice prince.  They danced and danced and realized that they were going to be best friends forever, just like Mickey and Minnie.  But then Cinderella realized it was past her bedtime, and so she ran home, but she accidentally left one of her shoes at the party.  The next day the prince gave her back her shoe and asked if she wanted to come live at the castle instead of in the house with the not-nice ladies.  Cinderella said she’d love to live at the castle.  So she and the prince lived at the castle, and played all day and had lots of dance parties, and the prince always helped with the chores.  The end.”

*Well, I couldn’t leave out the part about the dress and the shoes.  Nothing wrong with an appreciation for fashion!

Lost Fever

Shoot.  I should be writing about – oh, something.  Mothering, growing a baby, making your way in the world today with everything you’ve got – but all I can think about is alternate universes and the protective qualities of ash.  Should I circle our house with ash?  Perhaps it would creep-out potential robbers just enough so they’d leave us alone.  Oh, “Lost!”  I cannot stop thinking about it.  The castaways have thoroughly invaded my dreams, and of course, in these dreams I figure it alllll out and it makes perfect sense, until I sit up, poke Herbie and say, “But what about the one-eyed man?  Where does HE fit into all this?”

Herbie doesn’t like those moments very much.

I wonder why this show has such a hold on me.  First, I love a compelling story, and especially a compelling mystery.  I also love the thrill of being surprised (What?  We’re in the future???), and in our jaded, cynical world, true, thrilling surprises just don’t occur that often anymore.  To show surprise is to admit that you don’t already have all the facts, Jack, and nowadays, everybody knows everything about everything, right? 

I also love the themes of “Lost.”  Science vs. faith, destiny vs. free will, that ol’ reliable theme of good vs. evil, not to mention redemption.  No, I haven’t blown my up my father, or driven him back to drinking, or had a conman strangle him to death – in fact I love my dad very much.  But certainly we all feel ourselves walking the line every day.  Making choices to keep us from needing to seek redemption, whew.  And maybe even knowing, deep down, that we do need to seek redemption – for not trying hard enough, for taking the easy way out, for cursing out that driver while your toddler listens in the backseat…

I also really love Sawyer’s Glare of Death and Gaze of Intensity, which are even more powerful and deadly when delivered shirtless.

Then there’s all the little niggling things, like - why the heck is the island under water?  Can a nuclear bomb sink an island?  Was Desmond wearing a wedding ring?  Was Jin NOT wearing a wedding ring?  Is Jacob good and Man in Black/Smokey/Locke (Smocke?) evil, or is it not that simple?  Would I pee my pants if Smocke bellowed “I am very disappointed in you!” at me?  Yes, yes I would.  Would I just run right out into the ocean and hope to get eaten by a Dharma shark rather than face the inevitable horrors on the island?  Yes, yes I would.  But in watching, thinking about, and dreaming about the show, I get to be as badass as Kate (and as skinny!), as determined as Jack, as faithful as Locke (but hopefully not as naive), as loyal as Desmond, as brave as Charlie, as bold as Sawyer…

Man this show rocks.

Lost Nerd

I have a confession – I am a big time “Lost” geek.  You’ve heard of the show, yes?  Redemption-seeking castaways time-traveling on an apeshit crazy island filled with polar bears, ageless wonders, and peanut butter?  Yes, that one.  I LOVE it.  I peruse message boards, I study all the online games and clues, I read this guy - and he’s totally cuckoo.  When an episode ends, I launch myself onto the laptop, clicking away furiously.  Sometimes Herbie futilely attempts to communicate with me, before shaking his head and sighing, “Well – guess I’ll see you in the morning…”  But then I will pounce on him while he’s trying to sleep with all sorts of fascinating tidbits, like, “Do you want to know what it says on Jacob’s tapestry?  Did you know that if you freeze the screen at exactly 42 minutes you can see an image of Jack’s dad peeking out from behind a palm tree?  Did you know that the picture hanging in Jack’s apartment is the SAME as the one hanging in Sun’s dad’s office?  DID YOU KNOW THAT???”  Sometimes I get his attention.  Sometimes he just groans and rolls over.

Lost premieres Tuesday night.  It’s the final season, oh *SOB* – but I am just freaking out of my mind excited.  I am prepared to have my mind blown to kingdom come.  There is a part of me that worries that the show cannot possibly reach my high expectations, but-but-but – this is Lost.  It has never disappointed me.  (Okay, except for that one episode where Locke wanders around half-naked the whole time and hangs out in a sweat lodge.  But  I just pretend that one doesn’t exist.)

I had a dream last night that I was sleeping peacefully when suddenly I heard a women’s computer-like voice say, “RESET.”  At least I think it was a dream – it didn’t seem like a dream except that when I “woke up” I was sleeping on the other side of the bed…  Anyway, it completely freaked me out and led to a whole series of more and more terrifying nightmares, until finally I screamed and Herbie woke me up and cuddled with me the rest of the night.  But at the time, I was convinced that we were being watched by a nefarious group (possibly alien) who had already somehow scanned into our brains and were, at the very moment I heard the woman’s voice, rebooting our systems. 

Herbie contends that perhaps I should lay off reading about Lost for a little while.  Hmm.

My Top 5 Lost Moments:

1.  Arguing endlessly with Herbie as to whether Charlie’s sacrificial death was completely unnecessary or not.  (Herbie says he did not have to slam the door to save Desmond – they both could have escaped.  I contend that it is beside the point – Charlie believed he was saving Desmond and sacrificing himself to save Claire and Aaron.  Whether that was a pointless sacrifice remains to be seen – oh I hope not!)

2.   The master class of acting that took place in “The Life and Death of Jeramy Bentham,” when Ben first rescues and then murders Locke.

3.  Mr. Eko’s face-off with the Smoke Monster – especially going back and seeing all those ghostly images in the smoke as Smokey seemingly “scanned” Eko’s memory.

4.  Sawyer’s whole character arc in Season 5, culminating in the heart-breaking goodbye between him and Juliet, right before she plunged down the…hatch-hole-thingy.  I cry every time.

5.  Basically any scene involving Desmond and Penny, especially their phone call on the freighter ship and Penny’s promise to find him, and then that promise fulfilled on the rescue ship, complete with romantic reunion kiss.  Oh, and I also love when Desmond saves his family and beats the shit out of Ben.  I pretty much love any time Ben gets his ass kicked.  I have a feeling there’s going to be more of that this season, too.

So – any other nerds out there?

A January Weekend in Phoenix

…So many other places – snow, ice, North Face jackets.  But this is the time of year when I fall in love with Phoenix all over again.  Sixty-nine degrees on the last weekend of January?  Yes, please.

Saturday we drove out to Scottsdale to see Phoenix Theatre’s Cookie Company production of, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.”  Moo is a big fan of the book and its many offspring (If You Give a Pig a Party, If You Give a Cat a Cupcake), so we were all excited to see the rascally mouse in action.

Waiting for the show to start:

During the show, Moo did that funny thing where she stares intently at the action and hardly reacts at all, making us wonder, Oh no, does she not like it?  Does she not get it?  But in fact, she loved it, and we figured out a while ago that what she’s actually doing is memorizing every line and tiny mouselike nuance for discussion and re-creation back at home later on.

After the show, they handed out milk and cookies, and Moo even got to meet the mouse and the little boy:

We realized it would be a shame to bolt out of downtown Scottsdale on such a lovely day, so we had lunch at the Sugar Bowl, one of my favorite haunts from teenager-hood, and just about the pinkest restaurant I’ve ever seen.  

After the sundae – well, sure I had a big pile of laundry to do, and Herbie still needs to put the Christmas boxes in the attic, and our floors need to be mopped.  But the Scottsdale Civic Center park was on the way back to the car, and my little girl looks so cute running around in her little plaid skirt.  Maybe we’ll just leave the boxes out until next Christmas.

I also think she looks pretty cute pretending to be an owl:

 

…Which is what she did on Sunday at the Phoenix Zoo.  Our library has this fantastic program called “Culture Pass,” where you can check out passes to local museums and visit with up to four people, for free!  Moo and I just happened to arrive at the library right when they were handing them out, and we nabbed tickets to the zoo – hooray!

Oh, I love the zoo.  I love watching Moo follow her “duck friends” around the tables during lunch, I love how she studies the map and tell us where to go next, I love watching her plop down next to a goat to brush its coat at the petting zoo.  I love the Arizona environment, with its roadrunners, burrowing owls and gila monsters.  I love catching a hummingbird having a snack among the Watusi cattle.  I love SnoCones.  I love how Moo pretends to be each and every animal we see.  I do not love monkeys.  But anyway…

Can anything beat soaring like an eagle out of the zoo at the end of the day?  All in all, a perfect weekend.

How ‘Bout Quigley Egbert?

Well, it is definitely a boy.  We had our second trimester ultrasound today, and Herbie was the first to spot the organs in question – apparently, as a man, he’s much more adept at spotting tiny testicles than I.  But both Herbie and our technician were like, “Whoaaa, hahaha, yep!  That sure is a boy!” – so I will take their word for it and trust that I really am growing a tiny penis inside me.  (!!!)

Seeing our baby boy jumping around inside me, seeing the blood vessels pumping, the cord, the placenta, those tiny bones, those tiny feet – well let’s say it all made me feel much less guilty about being so tired all the time.  My body is working hard!  It’s just so amazing to me that I don’t have to tell it what to do – doesn’t it seem like I should have to download some baby-growing software or something?  But no, Herbie and I did the deed, and my handy-dandy lady parts just said, “Thanks, babe.  We got it from here.”  Ahhhh it all just makes me want to…take a nap.  (Okay, and thank God.  Thanks God!)

So now Herbie and I can really start to discuss names.  So many choices!  Quack?  Neigh?  Baa?  Heh.  Even if I did use real names here, I couldn’t discuss our options.  Herbie and I made the choice with Moo that we’d have a firm no-name-discussion policy.  Partly because it’s nice to keep it a just-us decision, and partly because people accidentally say dumb things sometimes.  Like the time years ago when I told a friend I liked the name “Helen” for a someday-baby, and she said, “Sounds like a fat girl.”  Nice.  Also, it is so much fun to announce the name to friends and family after the baby is born – and then, they have to at least pretend they like it!

We do already have some names we like – and one in particular that has been the top boy-name contender since our first pregnancy.  But I don’t want to decide yet!  It’s so much fun looking through all the lists of names, giggling at the silly ones, pondering the unpronounceable ones, and asking Moo for her opinion.  For the record, she likes “Romeo” and “Ham Sandwich.”  And actually, “Romeo” would be pretty cool, if it weren’t for the tragic associations.

We do have some requirements in a name.  We don’t want it to be too popular.  We would really like it to have some meaning, whether it’s a family name (like Moo’s), or someone who we admire, or who has inspired us.  We seem to like more old-fashioned names.  Also, I would really like it to be nickname-able.  If anyone has any suggestions, or suggestions for his blog pseudonym, I’d love to hear them!

This n’ That

Overhaul Update:

We’re actually doing pretty well!  Still getting to bed too late, but managing to drag ourselves out of bed earlier.  I’m allowing myself one almost-full cup of coffee in the morning, and that makes all the difference.  And with all his newfound fervor, Herbie requested a meeting with his boss to discuss his Future at the Company – it went really, really well.  Go Herbie!

I think I’ve been doing a better job of keeping the house clean, too.  I still take naps whenever possible, but the kitchen is (mostly) staying clean, and there is usually always a clear path to walk from one room to the next – that’s a big improvement.  Next:  I tackle my former-office, future-baby-room, current-disaster.  I think I’ll have it cleaned out in about a month or so.  Yipe.  Then, it shall magically turn into a charming boys’ room, decorated in (I think) a comic book theme.  And where am I going to put all the stuff currently strewn aboot this room?  No idea.

Moo Update:

We’re recovering nicely from the Blackberry Incident.  We had a lovely afternoon yesterday with our friends Miss Emily and Jackson, who moved away to Maryland last year.  It was so wonderful to see them and partake in our favorite ritual:  We meet at La Grande Orange and the kids have chocolate chip scones while we moms have a Commuter Sandwich (egg, cheese, tomato and avocado on a freshly-made English muffin – seriously one of the most delicious things to eat in all of Arizona).  Then we walk down the block to this charming little park, where Jackson scrambles up and down the jungle gym and Moo basically hangs out in one spot and talks about fairies.  I love these kids, and I miss Jackson and Emily so much.  Sad to see them leave.

In other Moo news, SHE PEED ON THE POTTY LAST NIGHT!  Oh shoot, I wasn’t going to be one of those moms that blabs about her child’s bathroom habits.  But dear friends, the end of diapers is in sight, hallelujah!  I mean, before they start right back up again with the new baby boy, but at least they’ll be tiny cute diapers.  Miniature poops make a big difference.

This morning, Moo and I are taking a tour of her maybe-preschool.  It’s so close to our house, we’d have to really hate it not to attend, but I’m still so excited.  Aww geez, peeing on the potty, preschool – my little Moo is growing up.

Fruit Wars

This morning I totally lost it over a blackberry.

Not so long ago, in that beautiful pre-2 era, Moo ate – well, most things.  Pasta, meat, corn, broccoli, peas, eggs, and just about every kind of fruit.

Then veggies were off the menu.  Meat next, and then eggs.  We had a long period where we comforted ourselves with all the different fruits she ate, and then the fruits started going, too.  First grapes, then oranges, and then all fruits “with skin.”  Then blueberries, bananas, strawberries, and finally even those really good jarred peaches from Trader Joe’s.  We were down to blackberries.

Yesterday, blackberries were finally shown the door.

So now she eats virtually NOTHING THAT IS GOOD FOR HER, unless I sneak it in, or unless it’s baked into something sweet (blueberry scones, banana bread).  Through all of this, we have tried coercing, tricking, bribing, rewarding, silly-dancing, threatening, demanding, and begging.  Nothing worked.  Well, sometimes the silly dance worked, but come on.  Let us retain some level of dignity, kid.  She’s too smart for tricking (she’ll never notice the piece of broccoli hidden inside that noodle!), bribing and rewarding seem wrong, and demanding she eat JUST. ONE.  BITE. only ends in an endless, pointless stubbornness standoff.

Everything I read says we should let it go, it’s just a phase.  Keep offering her everything, keep encouraging her, and don’t make eating a battle.  So that’s what we’ve been doing, until this morning when I turned two years old.

Mama:  “Moo, don’t forget your blackberries.”

Moo (making a blackberry tower):  “No, Mommy.  I’m not going to eat them.  I’m playing with them.”

Mama:  “Moo, please don’t play with your food.  Berries are for eating.”

Moo:  “I am NOT going to eat them.”

Mama:  “Eating fruit is what keep you healthy and makes you grow bigger.”

Moo:  “I AM big.  I am NOT going to eat them.”

I take a big, long swig of orange juice and try to keep my mouth shut.  …But I cannot.

Mama:  “Eat your berries, Moo.”

Moo:  “No.”

Mama:  “Yes.”

Moo:  “No!”

Mama:  “Yes!”

Moo:  “NO!”

Mama:  “YEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She didn’t eat them.

After her tears dried and my guilt wore off, I tried to convince myself, once again, that this is Just A Phase.  But I am terribly worried that I am inadvertantly raising a Picky Eater.  And a Picky Eater is a big ol’ Pain in the Ass.

So – anyone been through this?  Pretty please?  I would really, desperately, love some advice.

More Syrup, Please

…Okay, I’m almost over it.

Herbie had a fantastic day at work on Friday, so that eased my blue mood for a while, but then I suddenly fell off a cliff into a giant pool of congestion, struck down with Moo’s cold.

I slept all day Saturday, barely able to rouse myself, even when Moo brought me pretend soup and cuddly animals to make me feel better.  Finally, while Herbie slaved around the house, I hefted myself from bed and made a little nest on the couch, where Moo joined me to watch some figure skating.

I must admit, I don’t know if I really felt that bad, or if it was leftover audition humiliation causing my cough.

Sunday, Moo and Herbie headed to the robot exhibit at the Arizona Science Center.  I was supposed to stay home and rest, but I felt so guilty about my slothfulness the day before that I spent the whole time doing laundry and cleaning up our disaster of a bedroom.  When they got home, I was exhausted, and fell into bed for two hours.

I woke up grumpy, thinking about how I hadn’t planned anything for dinner (bad wife!) and the lack of food in the fridge (worse wife!).  Then I remembered the IHOP gift card in my wallet.  Someone had given it to my mom, and my mom had passed it on to me, figuring we were more likely to enjoy all-you-can-eat pancakes.  She was RIGHT!  We’ve only been to IHOP once before, but suddenly the thought of IHOP made rainbows appear over my head and little tiny bluebirds flitter around the room.  Oh, glorious IHOP, with your five varieties of syrup, covetable coffee cups and questionable level of cleanliness!  I bounded out to the playroom and asked, “Who wants pancakes for dinner?!”

Well, who doesn’t want pancakes for dinner?  Herbie and I had eggs, bacon, and buttermilk pancakes drowned in syrup.  (Actually, Herbie had turkey bacon and egg-substitute – I went full-fat.)  Moo had pancakes with strawberry eyes and a banana smile, and ate yogurt out of a tube.  Delightful. 

Next time I’ll remember – IHOP pancakes cure colds and ease the blues.  As it turns out, I still don’t have anything planned for dinner and we still don’t have any food in the fridge (Oh! Ugh!  Terrible, terrible wife!).  So….who wants French toast for dinner?!