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.

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.

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?

Another Wednesday Evening

Herbie and Moo in the bathtub.  Playing, singing, and splashing now, soon the fight over washing her hair will begin – thank you, Herbie, for almost always doing the bath.

Kitchen clean, except for friendly piles of recipe books and a pot soaking by the sink - thanks, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, for being so easy to clean up.

Messy playroom – I could clean up the dinosaurs eating leaves off the Lego tree, and the penguins playing in Penguinland, and the crowd of animals riding the Dinosaur Train (a.k.a. the couch)…but they all look so content doing just what they’re doing.  Thanks, Moo, for making such happy messes.

Couch cleared of toys, magazines and Cheerio crumbs – waiting for Herbie and I to pounce on it as soon as Moo is tucked in bed.  Thanks, couch, for being so squishy.  Red light on Tivo holding steady, meaning I’ll soon have So You Think You Can Dance and Glee waiting for me – thanks, Tivo, for being so damn awesome, and thanks, talented dancers and Jane Lynch, for being so entertaining.

Soon I’ll hear some quacking, and a naked girl in a duck towel will come running in to find me, and I will give her a hug and she’ll fling off her towel and run back to her room, where Herbie and I will loll around and giggle at her while she busies herself with VERY IMPORTANT 2-year-old projects, and eventually we’ll wrangle her into her motorcycle pajamas, and talk her into brushing her teeth (“Minty!” she’ll declare), and find her sucky and Hop, and read the new books from the library, and sing to her while one of us carries her down the hall to her cozy bed.

Wednesdays are pretty nice.

The Latest Obsession

Happy Halloween, Dinosaurs!

Organize, Shmorganize

Moo and I attacked my mostly-unused office today.  I dream of it becoming this lovely, quiet purple space where I write books and articles and blog posts, but mostly I sit at the laptop in the family room, as detritus piles up in the office.  Yes, it’s back in bad shape. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But Moo and I both slept in until 9:30 (I spawned a night owl like myself, it seems), and finished breakfast at noon, so it seemed like a good day to just putter around the house.

I told Moo I wanted to organize my office, and since Herbie has conned Moo into believing that organizing is a fun game, she agreed to help.  By which I mean make the office an even bigger mess than it was when we started.

No, that’s not quite true.  I found a box to stuff all the ribbon in – and then Moo took it all out and draped it all over herself, but that was adorable so I didn’t mind.  And then we paused to have a tea party with some ceramic pots I unearthed, and then we played magnet games with the magnets I found, and then we laid on our tummies and riffled through old pictures of Mommy, but somehow in all that I did manage to clear some space and see the path to TOTAL ORGANIZATION.  It’s going to be beautiful! ….Someday.

But first, I have to sort through all that STUFF.  I have a very hard time throwing away things that bring back memories, like pictures my niece and nephew have drawn, notes my dad wrote me, cards my mom sent me, and even random doodles and lists I’ve made in notebooks.

Stuff like this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this, which my Mom sent me in anticipation of my trip home from New York for Thanksgiving, 14 years ago:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How can I possibly throw that away?  I don’t want to lose that rush of love I feel for my family and my friends when I come across things like this.

But then there’s stuff like the random piece of paper on which I seem to have performed some sort of What Color is Your Parachute-style writing exercise.  It must have been from my I’m-in-Waitress-Hell phase.  I’ve listed all the things I would never want in a job (working with people who “like to talk about meaningless things”), and then I describe my “job from heaven,” in which I detail, HOUR TO HOUR, what I would do Monday through Friday.  Monday, Wednesday, Friday – write (brilliant novels, I guess) from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., then “run errands or possible nap” until 5 p.m., and then a dance class, but Friday night is “social night.”  Tuesdays and Thursdays, apparently, I take a pilates class and then come home and write more brilliant novels.

Huh.  Actually, that does still sound pretty good.

And then I was supposed to list my “escape dreams,” the things I fantasize about (no, not those things), which would apparently lead to some incredible insight.  My list reads (and I quote): 

• Winning a Tony
• Being interviewed on Conan
• Being like Madonna, making sexy videos, cool clothes, etc.
• Stripping 

I mean they were just fantasies.  But all this soul-searching and fantasizing led me to this conclusion, which I printed carefully:  “I need attention and approval.”

Well, duh.

And yet I was still too chicken to go out and audition for anything. 

So why do I keep stuff like that?  I think I like the internal checking-in that occurs when I read through my past hopes and anxieties – it’s a nice way to see how far I’ve come and if I’m still on track.  But maybe now is the time to shed some of those old ghosts of past-me and try to live in the present a little more.  I don’t know.

What about you?  Are you a saver, or are you like Rosalind, who never ever has more than five emails in her inbox.  I currently have 58… pages.

To Do

Moo is getting very excited for Halloween.  “I REMEMBER ABOUT ALL THE CANDY!” she told us last night.  I’m getting pretty excited too – Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays, mostly because I love the costumes, but also – yes, all the candy!

Yesterday I told Moo that we couldn’t get out the Halloween decorations (we have quite a bit, much to Herbie’s chagrin) until our house was really, really clean.

I don’t know why the hell I said that.  Now I have to clean the damn house.  But I really, really want to get those Halloween decorations out, so I made myself a huge to-do list for today, which I am supposed to complete in less than four hours, when I have to go pick up Moo.

Wanna see?

• Vacuum (check!)
• Clean Herbie’s stinky gym clothes pile (because I am a wonderful wife) (check!)
• Water plants/water lawn/mourn dead plants/mourn dead lawn (check! well, the plants)
• Make bed (check!)
• Put away giant pile of folded clothes on top of dressers, and on the floor of the family room, and on the ironing board and dining room table (check!)
• Do dishes (figure out what to do with the oil from last night’s fish sticks…help?) (check! but not the stinky oil yet…)
• Clean Doc’s cage (check!)
• Sweep/Swiffer/mop floors (check!)
• Clean Moo’s room and playroom (should make her do this herself, but oh well) (check!)
• Clean bathroom, ugh (check!)
• Organize under bathroom sink, clean out and recycle all those bottles of lotion that only have three squirts left)
• Reorganize hall closet (Random tiny terra cotta pots, it’s time for you to go.  You’re safe, giant dangly spider.) (check!)
• Sort through giant pile of mail and magazines
• Repaint entire house

Ready….go!

Okay…..GO!

Aaaaaand….now!  Go!

1 2 3….GO GO GO!

Ballet and Baseball

We started out Saturday at SAS, a shop of wonderment that has remained unchanged since I was a little girl.  I used to tag along with my mom and immerse myself in bin upon bin of buttons, doo-dads, and hodge-podge. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My mom and I took Moo to look for Halloween costume supplies (she’s going to be the White Rabbit from “Alice in Wonderland,” but… a ballerina version), and Moo found it very easy to entertain herself while my mom and I discussed tutu options:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s a sandcastle, as if you couldn’t tell.

Then that night we squeezed into the Civic with my parents and went to Steele Indian School Park for Ballet Arizona’s free “Ballet Under the Stars” event.  Gosh I love free things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having a little refreshment before the show starts…

The performance was wonderful, although I was pretty distacted by the bunny dancing on my head, Moo trying out her own moves, and the 30-or-so little girls dancing in front of the stage.  “It’s a ballet mosh pit!”  cried Herbie.  They were so adorable even the ballerinas couldn’t help grinning at them mid-twirl.

I couldn’t take pictures of the performance, because I might have blinded a ballerina and caused her to fall and break her ankle and ruin her career and maybe she’d sue me, but here’s a picture of the bows:

Moo much preferred the first half of the performance, when they wore bright red tutus and flowers in their hair.  Those plain black-and-white outfits were cool and modern, but a young ballet fan needs her sparkle n’ spangle, mm-kay?

Then on Sunday, we took Moo to her very first baseball game.  I used to be such a devoted fan of the Diamondbacks, but first, all my favorites jumped ship, and then they moved all the games onto a cable channel we don’t get, so I’m now very uninformed.  But to me, baseball games always equal good times (beer! hot dogs! and also animated racing hot dogs on the big screen!), and it was the last home game of the season, so there was lots of good cheer in the stadium.

We watched the game for a while, then explored the stadium when Moo got antsy, returning to our seats just in time for some really exciting plays.  She loved all the clapping and excitement…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then she got a little tired…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But roused in time to sit on the big baseball outside the stadium:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After her nap at home, she wanted to play “baseball game,” which involved teaching Doc how to play baseball:  “First you take your baseball bat and you wooooo! and then you run on the silky string and then crawwwwwl to the end.”

Sure!  Then what, Moo?

“And then the hot dogs RACE, and- Mommy, we sit right here in our seats, and the hot dogs RACE and Doc can be one of the hot dogs, and then we take off our hats and sing those songs and we all clap and then…”

“Yessss?”

“AND THEN THERE’S A DANCING WAFFLE!”

Delightful!  “And who should be the dancing waffle, Moo?”

“…DADDY!”

Yesssss.