Why some people never have children

Actually, I think five-year-old birthday parties are pretty low down on the list of reasons why some childless couples choose to remain that way.  But that's only because they don't know how bad it can get.

Last year, Rachel let Matthew invite six (?) friends to a party. Four came. It was fairly manageable.

This year, counting on a similar acceptance ratio, she let him invite nine friends.  All of them came.

Perhaps the best summary was offered by Rachel's friend Jessica, who stayed for the duration of the party with her two daughters that Matthew had invited -- one a little older than he, the other a little younger -- and two younger sons.  I don't know why she stayed.  Maybe she just didn't want to drive back and forth again since she lived about 10 minutes away.  But I think it was more likely simply morbid curiosity, just like you can't look away from a train wreck you know is coming.  

Anyway, Jessica pointed out that "Wow, little boy parties are very different from little girl parties.  Little girls like to sit, and talk, and follow instructions.  They don't hit each other or wrestle or run off away from the activity."  Which our guests did constantly.  When there wasn't anything obvious to hit each other with, like Matthew's lightsabers or swords, they'd find something else.  Like teddy bears.

Rachel reminded me that "testosterone starts affecting boys' brains in the womb."  I believe it.

Matthew's party theme was superheroes.  (Of course birthday parties need a theme!)  Rachel tried to get him to accept an offer of a pirate party, but he would have none of that.  As a compromise of sorts, she managed to get him to broaden his demands for a Buzz Lightyear party into one to which all superheroes would be accepted.

Mostly Rachel wanted a pirate party because it's incredibly easy to come up with pirate-oriented activities for attention-challenged youngsters.  But she did pretty well with the superhero theme: first there was a "training camp," with races and bean bag throwing contests and the like.  Then there would be a "mission," where Rachel had a trail of photo clues leading from one location to the next and finally to a pinata.

We did have to improvise briefly after the last training episode -- a race around the house.  Matthew fell and threw a tantrum, some of the other kids were arguing about who cheated, two kept having sword fights, and at least one was inclined to wander off and explore the house.

Rachel called an emergency meeting of superheros, with popcorn.  The heros ate the popcorn with gusto and order was (briefly) restored.

Then we did the photo clue mission, which went as planned except for the oldest guest running around picking up clues out of sequence, which left me running around putting them back.  Then the pinata was duly destroyed, candy was put into bags for when they left, cake was served, and presents opened.

Then everyone left, we swept up all the popcorn and cleaned away the cake, put the kids down for a nap, and fell asleep exhausted ourselves.

The party ran from 11 to 1, but what with pre-party cleaning and preparation, and post-party cleanup and recovery, it really was an all day thing.  (I woke up from my nap at 5.  I needed it.)

I wonder if there's a way to distract Matthew from having a party when he turns six.  Maybe if we're out of the country for all of October, for instance... 

Either he's in for a big surprise or I am

Today Matthew wore a suit to church.  (After all, he is now a big five-year-old.)  After Primary he was really excited to tell us that Emma told him he was handsome.

Emma is the neighbor girl he has decided he is going to marry.  (Why?  "Emma is nice."  What about [some other girls]?  "They are not as nice as Emma.")

Toe trauma

Thursday night is when Rachel practices with her orchestra. (She is viola chair this year.) Thursday is also, not coincedentally, when Daddy takes the kids out for fast food.

This past Thursday I took the kids to Burger King. Matthew rushed ahead. "I want to open the door!" He heaved it open with all his might.

Unfortunately, his toe was in the way, and he was wearing sandals.

He shrieked and kept shrieking. I could see that it had started bleeding but I didn't think it was that bad; Matthew's prone to exaggeration in such things, particularly when he sees his own blood. I carried him inside and put him on a table where I could look at his toe.

It was a mess.

The toenail was shattered and the toe itself was bleeding pretty badly, for a toe. It was bad enough that clipping away the toenail mess myself didn't look like an option.

So I carried him back to the car and bucked him in, still shrieking. Then I went back and collared Melissa, who had run ahead to the slide. She didn't want to go but was fairly philosophical about being caught. "Matthew ow, toe."

We drove down to the instacare a couple miles away. Matthew wasn't in that much pain but he was still freaking out in a big way. I reached back and held his hand, and he made some efforts to calm down by singing, but it was only partially successful.

When we got to the instacare the receiptionist gave him a lollipop and he calmed down instantly. Then some other kids came in and saw his injury, by far the coolest in the waiting room, and started talking about times they hurt themselves. Matthew was pleased with the attention.

It was a good thing that he calmed down because we had a long time to wait. We got there at 7; they closed at 8; we were done at 10. By that point both kids were way past their bedtimes and fatigue was taking its toll on Matthew's composure. It didn't get as bad as my flight back with him from NJ when everything caused massive and noisy hysterics, but it was definitely causing extra crankiness.

First they took x-rays to make sure it wasn't broken. I was sure it wasn't but it's Procedure dammit. At least it didn't add that much time to the wait. Then they got him on the operating table. The doctor took a closer look and didn't like what he saw. "It's deeper than I thought," he said. "He'll need anaesthetic for me to trim the nail. We can either do that with a local here, or you can take him to Primary Children's where they can knock him out through the nose." I'd had needles in my toe when I had a doctor attack an ingrown toenail very aggressively. (He tried to take out the root so it wouldn't grow back. It grew back anyway.) It hurt like hell but I survived. General anaesthetic can have rare but nasty complications, especially if you're young. So I opted to take care of it then and there.

I and a tough-looking nurse held Matthew down while another nurse gave him three barrels of novocain. He screamed again. "I don't like medicine!" Now that I don't blame him for in the least, poor kid. Then it started to go numb and he figured he was good to go home, but we had to wait another 20 minutes or so for the novocaine to be at maximum strength before the doctor could operate. The nurses and I praised Matthew for being Tough.

Fortunately a kind nurse took Melissa into the staff office and gave her papers and crayons at the table during this. She had reached her own limit of how long she was willing to sit still and listen to stories, and we'd exhausted the few child-safe amusements of the OR (tongue depressers and... that's about it), so I was very relieved.

Matthew's toenail was just generally mangled at the front. That needed to come off. But it was also split down the middle almost to the base. The doctor gave me the choice of removing it completely or trying to save it with a little superglue -- the danger being that if he caught it on something it could very easily rip it open along the seam. I opted for the superglue. When he started in, the toe was so numb Matthew didn't even notice, so he put a couple dissovlable stitches in instead of the glue since the stitches are stronger.

Finally we headed for home. That's when Rachel got home, saw the house dark and deserted, and freaked out a little herself. I'd called a couple times but she'd left her phone home. When she called she was relieved that we hadn't been in a car accident or worse.

When we got home Matthew couldn't wait to tell Mom his adventure. Novocaine is wonderful stuff. We gave him some codeine before tucking him in so hopefully the pain wouldn't wake him up during the night. It didn't.

By today he is running around normally, not favoring his toe at all. Kids heal fast.

Travel update 2

So it turns out that January is about the worst possible month to visit Tahiti as weather goes (temperature, not shown, is also lowest in the US summer months when rainfall is lowest). Conversely, US winter months are the best for the Philippines.

Both get roughly the same amount of rain ("a lot") in their rainy season. (The Tahiti graph is in mm -- 15 inches is about 380 mm, so they peak at about the same rate.)

Rachel has put me in charge of getting passports. ("I'm sure you'll get the job done. Plus, I don't want to deal with it!")

Travel update

I did look at some French-speaking African countries. Morocco is currently very popular with Europeans looking for something different (and cheaper). Here is one good Morocco blog by an American.

The main drawback is that these are very Islamic countries and although foreigners are left alone, a Moslem who converts to Christianity is not treated well there. (Since under Sharia the penalty for apostasy is death, I suppose they're making progress, technically.) Perhaps not coincidentally the LDS church does not have much of a presence there.

So we're going to leave these off our list. Besides the part about your religion making you a second class citizen, the church is also a support group of sorts, and when contemplating a drastic change like this it's nice to know that there will be some people there with whom you at least have religion in common.

Madagascar was the only French-speaking country that did have an LDS church presence. But it seems very, very third world. (One ISP I found touted as a selling point that their equipment only uses 25 watts! "Easy on batteries, generators, or solar panels!") Their recent history probably has something to do with that.

Peanuts

• Melissa was sitting on my lap being cute the other day when she unleashed a series of four loud, moist farts. How unladylike! I was a little shocked, not that a two year old would do such a thing but at the juxtaposition with her picture-perfect cuteness in every other respect. She looked up at me and grinned her dimply grin. "Bubbles!" she exclaimed, clearly pleased with herself.
• Today Melissa was on my lap again. "How were the kids today?" I asked Rachel. Melissa chimed in, "Machew dood boy." [Matthew good boy.] Rachel confirmed that it was so, and I praised Matthew. "Were you a good girl?" I asked Melissa. "No, I not dood dirl, I dood boy." "Silly little miss, you're a girl!" "I not dirl!" "You are!" "I not!" I changed the subject: "Toes!" I tickled her and there was much giggling.
• Matthew copies letters and words and really wants to read, as long as it doesn't require any concerted effort. (We are on reading lesson 10... a month ago we were on 9.) He tries to guess words based on context. He claims he can read "Exit" on doors, which works fine except when the door actually says "1st floor," as one did today.
• Rachel has labels on the linen closet shelf to show her well-intentioned but slightly oblivious husband where things go. Matthew copied the "Towels" label (you wouldn't think I'd have trouble with that one, but Rachel was thorough) and placed his next to his mom's. With his own duck tape. That label is manly.
  

Travel distraction

My company's current and so far only contract has a major deadline in January. Even though I know better (in software development, you only get busier post-release) I have been thinking about how it would be nice to do some traveling.

Rachel and I have talked about living abroad for a year or so in the relatively near future. There are lots of places we would like to live but probably the top three are Ireland, Tahiti, and the Philippines. The main line of reasoning here is

1. If you're going to go abroad for a year it's a bit silly to live somewhere that's not very different from the USA, which tends to rule out Australia which is after all rather like Canada, only warmer
2. On the other hand it does suck to not be able to understand anyone. We should be fine with English in Ireland and the Philippines; we think we could probably dust the rust off our French quickly enough to make Tahiti viable. (Thanks to my father's influence, my French was once good enough to be able to watch the news and occasionally trick a Frenchman into thinking I was Quebequois. Although I never managed the opposite; my accent was not French enough.)
3. You could apply (1) and (2) to France itself as well, but neither of us is really excited about that idea for various reasons
4. Ditto Northern Africa, although it's quite possible I should look at the options there more closely
   

Of course, before moving somewhere for a year it only makes sense to make some shorter trips first to see if we actually like it first. That is what I have in mind for January.

Of those, I'd prefer not to make our first visit to Ireland be in the winter. From what I have read, the weather there is similar to Rachel's native Washington in the sense that it rains a lot most of the year; the main difference is that Ireland is colder.

My dad wants to come out and say hi if we go to Tahiti; since he's a college teacher, that means waiting for summer makes sense for Tahiti too. (And if you are thinking "sharing a vacation with your parents doesn't sound like much fun," you clearly do not have kids yet. Free baby sitting. Plus my parents think Rachel walks on water which doesn't hurt either.)

So, that is the long explanation for why Rachel often catches me reading about the Philippines online. At first glance there's a lot of information available about living just about anywhere but if you look closer most of it is geared towards either singles or retired couples. Or retired singles. Younger couples with kids... not so much.

Not out of the woods yet...

Last night Jonathan and acted like newlyweds, we stayed up late playing...video games.

In retrospect that wasn't such a good idea.

About 1:30 in the morning Melissa woke up yelling for Daddy. Daddy was out for the count so I went in her room. As I knelt by her bed I abruptly realized something was very wrong. I picked her up and and started yelling for Jonathan. Melissa had thrown up and was covered head to toe. I bathed Melissa while Jonathan took care of the bedding, floor, and wall.

Freshly bathed and attired, I rocked her in her room. She threw up again and got me and the rocking chair, not to mention herself too. We showered

(Well wasn't that interesting. As I wrote this Melissa was sick again while on my lap. I wasn't quite fast enough and she got the couch too. Poor thing.)

So anyways it was about every 10 minutes she'd have another episode in the night. It went on until around 5:30. I'm not sure what time she got up this morning, Jonathan took her then and I slept till 9.

So then Matthew started complaining about being sick. I thought he was just vying for all the attention that his sister was getting. Unfortunately I was wrong. So now both kids are taking turns upchucking. We are in constant threat of running out of fresh towels and Melissa clothes. The washer and dryer and running full time. Poor kids, poor parents.

Poooooooop!

*Warning the following contains bodily functions and interior decorating. It is not a pretty combination.

Sunday Jonathan put Melissa down for a nap. He could hear her goofing off and then it got erily quiet. Daddy patted himself on his back for successfully putting her down for a nap. A half hour later he hears "Dadda Poop! Dadda! Dadda!" Upon entering the room he is overwhelmed with the poop fumes. Melissa is in the room diperless and the contents of her discarded diaper artfully decorating the floor, blankets, and her. He picks her up, gives her a shower, and cleans the floor.

Fast forward to that evening. I'm taking a shower and Melissa barges on in the bathroom. I tell her firmly that "No, you had a shower today, now it is Mama's turn." Jonathan extracts her from the bathroom and locks the door for me. I finish up and head upstairs. Melissa is in her room naked and covered in poop. Her floor is covered in poop, her bedding likewise adorned. She looks up and Jonathan and me and says, "Daddy Poop! I shower?" Gahhh!

She got a cold wipe down in the tub instead. Daddy and Mommy were not amused.

Call Me Old-Fashioned

Since moving to Utah a decade ago, I've noticed a trend. Most adults here are addressed by their first names by children. In fact if I introduce someone to my children as Mrs. So and so, they will interject, "oh you can call me Jane." I thought it was a regional quirk, but after browsing through an online parenting discussion forum, 97% of the posters go by their first name with children. In fact more than a few of them thought it is degrading to children to have to use Mr. or Mrs./Ms.!! That using a title is an inappropriate form of respect and real respect comes from actions not words.

Well, in my ever humble opinion, words do convey respect or disrespect, and there is nothing wrong (and quite a bit right!) with using a title to express that. Kids are wonderful, delightful people, but they are not adults in miniature. Believe me, I live with two of them! I have yet to see an adult throw himself onto the ground kicking and screaming because he can't have the gumball he wants! Or decorate the walls, floors, and her body with markers. I think that with age comes responsibility, experience, and (hopefully) wisdom, right? Adults teach and protect children and as such are not on the same level. On television, could you imagine calling Mr. Roger, Fred? As in "Fred's Neighborhood?" I just don't see myself as the peer of a three-year-old! Likewise, those whom I grew up addressing as Mr./Mrs. or Brother/Sister, are still addressed in that manner, unless they prefer to be addressed otherwise now that I'm an adult.

However, my viewpoint is not popular. It's hard to teach Matthew and Melissa to address adults with a title when their peers don't or the adults prefer to be addressed by their first name. Even very casual acquaintances will ask to be known as Bob or Amy. Often I can compromise with "Ms. Amy." Really close friends and cousins have the honorific "Aunt or Uncle." I want to respect what other adults what to be called, at the same time I want to teach Matthew and Melissa good manners. It's tough to balance.

Peanuts

• It sucks when your kids get over their cold faster than you do. They're bouncing off the walls while you're groaning on the couch wishing the world would stop being so loud. At least Melissa slept in til 8:30 two days in a row while she was recuperating.
• Matthew's favorite song is the Star Wars Imperial March, aka "the Darth Vader theme." He has several variants that he hums to himself. I'm not sure if the variations have more significance than a 4-year-old not quite remembering how it goes.
• Matthew's class was assigned to say what they are thankful for during the ward Primary program. Matthew was thankful for his birthday, and Christmas. Recently he added Halloween. One of his classmates is thankful she doesn't have nightmares anymore.
• Melissa has been spending more time in her room lately as she learns that telling Daddy "No" when told to Come or Climb Down is not acceptable. This morning, for instance, I came back in the room to find her on top of the counter, stuffing her face with Mommy's gummi worms. She was not pleased to see me.
  

A trip with Matthew

I took Matthew with me on a business trip to NJ in mid-August. Matthew was a good traveler for the most part; if he hadn't done well on our trip for David's wedding I wouldn't have done it. 5 hours is a long flight, plus more waiting in the airport, is a long time to sit around when you're 4.

Continental overbooked the first leg of our flight (to DC, where we were going to take a Delta flight to Utah). The good news was they put us on a direct flight to SLC instead. The bad news is we still got in to Utah almost three hours later, past 10 PM. Matthew did pretty well until he fell asleep half an hour before we landed -- when he woke up he was in bad shape. Everything resulted in a flood of tears and howls.

But I guess it was worth it; Mom was glad to have Matthew for a couple days, and Matthew was glad to see Grandma and Uncle Grant again. Rachel was glad to only have one kid by herself while I was gone. And for all their squabbles, Melissa missed Matthew -- Rachel said every morning she would ask, "Where Dachew?"

Captain Oblivious

My wife figured out early on that I can't read her mind. That's just not a skill men come with, in general. Tonight she found out that even as men go I'm a little slow.

We were sitting at the table discussing Halloween costumes, and Rachel asked Matthew if he was going to eat his chili this year.

I paused. "Wait," I said. "Is that what we had last year [when Matthew wouldn't eat his dinner, so didn't get to trick or treat]?"

My wife looked at me with a grin in her eyes. "Yes, we've had chili and corn bread every Halloween for seven years now."

"Oh. It's a tradition?"

"Yes, Dear. So what you're telling me is, when I ask if you had any traditions growing up, you're not really a reliable source, are you?"

I guess not!

(I didn't tell her that I probably never would have noticed the chili and corn bread thing if Matthew hadn't refused to eat it last year. So, no. Not a reliable source at all.)

Another sign you need to work out more

Your wife tells you, "I like that look on you. Black is slimming."

On the hazards of getting your wife killed

We played Munchkin with my cousin Bryan and his wife Jen yesterday. At one point Bryan was fighting a level 10 monster. I made it "Ancient" (+10) and he enlisted Rachel to help fight it. Then I gave it a "mate" (doubling its power to 40). Rachel and Bryan had to run away. Bryan made it. Rachel did not and died.

Rachel was understandably peeved with me. I thought it ended with the game until she told me as we were going to sleep, "I think Lisa has the right idea." I immediately knew what she meant: Lisa only plays board games to make Grant lose. I have no idea why he still plays with her.

"I didn't know you were the vindictive sort, Dear," I said.

"I'm not vindictive. I'm just holding a grudge."

I guess that does it for Munchkin.

(It could be worse, though. My friend Howard knows a man with a couch he calls his Medici couch, because that's where he sleeps after he plays Medici with his wife.)

Little girls

Girls play so differently than boys.

Matthew's (second) cousins Abby and Alex are here playing. Abby is a little older than Matthew and Alex is a little older than Melissa.

Abby is running things. Her games are entirely different than Matthew's. I came down when she was serving "dessert" to the others. She saw me and assured me, "It's okay; we already had dinner."

Then she got the "bed" ready and told the younger kids they had 2 minutes before bedtime. Then it was storytime. Then, "Alex, go to bed with Melissa. I want to sleep with Matthew. He's the daddy."

But Matthew started arguing with her because he was having fun reading "stories" to Alex. "I sleep with Alex first." They argued at length. Abby played her trump card: "You'll wake the baby up!" But Matthew out-stubborned her, until Alex lost interest.

The two younger ones are taking this with surprisingly good grace, consenting to play along when it suits them, but ignoring the older kids when it doesn't. Mostly, it doesn't.

The most stubborn Ellis

I thought Melissa had "most stubborn Ellis" locked up but Matthew has forced me to reconsider.

Saturday morning, around 8:00, he was tasked with cleaning his room, same as every Saturday morning for the past few months.

He finished at 11:00 Sunday morning.

It was about fifteen minutes' worth of work. Thirty if you're horribly inefficient. An hour if you're inefficient and easily distracted.

So for over 24 hours Matthew only came out for meals.

It was annoying for the rest of us because we had some family activities we would have liked to do, but he was inclined to cut of his nose to spite his face.

I did beat Super Stardust though. So it wasn't a total loss.

Chaise lounge, postscriptum

This already is funny, to my mom.

"Just like her father," she chuckled.

"Hey!" I protested. You mean, "Just like her Uncle David! I wasn't the destructive one."

"You're right," she conceded.

"You've got to be more careful about that, Mom," I said. "Rachel hears you say 'Just like her dad' and takes it at face value."

I get the impression that my wife thinks I was 5 kids worth of orneriness rolled into one. Just trying to set the record straight.

Alas, poor chaise lounge

Melissa kicked off the weekend with flair.

I got home, kissed my wife, asked, "Where's the kids?" [downstairs, playing nicely] and sat down to read the paper. Hey, usually the kids are all over me, so I was going to enjoy the calm while it lasted.

Rachel checked on the kids a few minutes later. When she came up, she grimly deposited a marker-covered Melissa in front of me, then headed back down.

I went down too. Rachel's chaise lounge was covered in the same purple marker that decorated Melissa. Matthew had opened the Melissa-proof container the markers were in for his own use (on paper), but apparently saw nothing in his sister practicing her art on the chair worth telling us about. Odd, because usually he's so quick to tattle. Bad time to choose to be reticent.

Amazingly, Rachel got almost all of the marker out of the chair. Only four spots remain that I can see. And when I say it was covered I mean it; of the seven faces of the chair not facing the floor, five had marker on them and four had a lot of marker on them.

Rachel thinks there is hope if she tries different cleaning solutions on the four remaining spots but it is probably going to be time to drape her chair in decorative cloths of some sort.

Poor Rachel. As my friend said, "We've pretty much given up on having nice things until the kids are twenty or so." The chaise lounge was one of our few more-than-utilitarian pieces, and Melissa chose that one to practice on.

In a few years this will probably be funny.

Book reviews in exactly 10 words

Gun, with occasional music: Noir. Talking kangaroos. Doesn't merit hype. I couldn't suspend disbelief.

Medicine, Madams, and Mounties: 80 below? That's cold. Short but sweet; $1 on Amazon.

Rebel without a stitch

Melissa dressed herself this morning. She climbed on her bookshelf to get down one of her dresses that are deliberately kept "out of reach."

Next she decided she'd rather be naked. Rachel told her she needed to put on some underwear. "No 'wear!" she insisted. She argued for a few minutes, then decided that Mommy was probably not too bright and could be fooled. She put on a shirt and pants and came back, still underwearless.

Rachel was not fooled, and repeated her rule. "No 'wear," Melissa insisted again, between howls of outrage. Our daughter is well on the way to becoming the most stubborn of the Ellises, and that's saying something, so Rachel picked her up and put her in her room for a potentially very long wait for Melissa to comply. "No pick!" [Don't pick me up] Melissa demanded, but Rachel paid her no heed.

Fun with physics

I was just sitting down for my morning chat with the mayor when I heard a clunk from the living room. It was definitely the sort of clunk a glass makes when dropped on the floor, and I remembered now that Rachel had left a glass on the floor last night.

"Whew, I'm glad it didn't break," I thought, and debated getting up to confiscate the glass. Melissa decided for me, though, and I heard the glass hit the floor again. This time it didn't survive.

These glasses shatter particularly violently when they break, so I sprinted for the living room, sat Melissa on the couch, and started cleaning up. "Sowwy, Da'," she kept saying. She knew she was not on Daddy's Good List.

Let me just emphasize that Rachel had left the glass on the floor. So our daughter picked it up and deliberately dropped it, until it broke.

Our son isn't the only one with an appetite for destruction.

Breakfast of Champions

Jonathan often gets up with the kids in the morning (bless him) so that I can catch a few more winks. However his idea of what makes a complete breakfast and mine differ on a few key points. His concept of breakfast is expediency; whatever happens to be on the counter, or can be prepared in 3 seconds flat. On the other hand, I like to consider food pyramid type stuff.

Last week he gave the kids cookies for breakfast on Tuesday and on Thursday cake(!). (Yeah, the kids love Daddy breakfasts.) When I discussed the matter with Jonathan, he tried to say that cake is kind of healthy given that it has eggs, flour, milk... Uh huh.

Me: Daddy gave you cake for breakfast?

Matthew: Yeah, I asked for banana oatmeal, but he said no.

Me: Oh, really?

For the record, Jonathan refutes that oatmeal was ever discussed, or that Matthew was in the slightest bit dismayed with cake. "What a bald face lie!!!"

Sensing a necessary reform, I made a list of approved and NOT approved breakfast items.

Approved: oatmeal, fruit smoothie, any fresh or frozen fruit, eggs and toast, apple sauce, cereal, granola bar, yogurt, pancakes, muffins (*anything else, please consult the WIFE)

NOT Approved: cake, cookies, ice cream, goldfish crackers, etc (and yes these are all things he has fed them for breakfast)

Keeping Jonathan's ego in check

I just got back from OSCON where I presented a tutorial session. I was telling Rachel about it and I mentioned that on two separate occasions I was talking to an older fellow and they asked if I was in school. I was rather pleased about that, being a little sensitive about the whole over-30 bit lately.

Rachel, engrossed in Master of Orion, replied, "They must not be very observant. You certainly don't look like a student anymore."

I wasn't too flattered. A bit less than gruntled, even.

"... You look young. Really. Maybe, 23?"

Yeah.

Beans! Beans! Beans!

Melissa helped pick our first bunch of beans.

"Purple Bean! Purple Bean! I help!"

We planted Royal Burgandy and they are Bee-autiful! (tasty too!) Took some pictures, but I don't know where cable is... Jonathan can post a picture when he gets back from his trip. Meanwhile here's a link to what they look like, and yes, they are that gorgeous.

purple beans

More Peanuts

• Melissa loves to have books read to her. "Readzabook! Readzabook!" she demands. We keep a stash of rotated library books in the drawer of the entertainment center. She will pull book after book and clamber onto your lap expectantly. She is very insistent too, and will push whatever else you may be doing aside so that you can read to her. I usually peter out after four books, somewhat to her dismay.

• Baby counting... Everyday when Daddy comes home he throws the kids in the air and counts to 10 as he tosses them. (Incidentally this used to make Mommy panic, but I've since mellowed a bit about Daddy games. He hasn't dropped a kid yet.) Melissa now counts 1..2..4! She's getting there!

• Matthew likes to put the dog harness (it's a soft backpack that looks like a dog and it's tail is the leash) on Melissa and order her around the house. He calls the game "pet shop". Melissa, for her part, seems to enjoy the game and barks and licks things (while crawling on hands and knees).

• Matthew wanted to play "crashing boat game" when I gave him his bath yesterday. This game consists of, well, crashing boats into each other. Matthew is pretty rough, so my knuckles get a beating playing this game. I persuaded him to play a word game instead to spare my hands. He has a collection of foam letters that stick to the bathtub wall. We used words that end in "ip" He was very pleased with the words we made. lip, sip, tip, rip, nip, zip, hip, dip...

• Yesterday we were desperately low on TP. (You potty train a kid and toilet paper usage more than doubles!) I was certain we had more in the pantry, but alas. Since it was Sunday, we figured that if we rationed things we'd be fine until Monday. (Meaning kid use of tp was to be strictly monitored.) We didn't get to bed until late that night, and Jonathan gets a little loopy when he's sleepy. He had a "brilliant" brainstorm. "Hey dear, we can produce and market pee rags for crunchy people! Our slogan can be 'Save a Tree! Pee on Me!' or 'Pee is for Planet!'" Righhhtt.... And he likes to tease me about how crunchy I am! Okay, okay, so we do the cloth diapers, don't buy formula, don't use disposable feminine products, and prefer natural childbirth, but STILL!!! Night night, sleepy scheming husband!
  

When all you have is a hammer

Grandma Ellis sent Matthew a Real Hammer. Matthew was immensely pleased. ("My first real tool!!!") He immediately started hammering everything in his bedroom. He got a nail partway through one of his shelves before Rachel caught him. (It's probably just as well for Matthew's sake as well as the coffee table's that he didn't exactly pull a Calvin.) Rachel sent me off to Home Depot to get some wood scraps so he could express his male need to put nails into things in a more acceptable fashion.

I brought some 2x4 scraps and some thinner ones. So of course Matthew nailed "wings" on to one of the 2x4s to make an airplane ("for Mama"). (Later he decided it was more of a helicopter.) His first creation out of something more substantial than legos.

Working the system

I've been putting Melissa to bed lately. I offer to rock her first, which she usually refuses violently, then yells her indignation at me as I leave and for long minutes afterwards.

This is uncharacteristic of her in other situations; she's generally much more aware than her brother that you catch more Daddies with honey than with vinegar.

The other night she applied this to bedtime. I put her in bed, and she asked, "Wok, Da'." [Rock, Dad]

So I rocked her.

Then I put her in bed and she asked, "Nuhdoh, Da'." [Snuggle]

So I snuggled next to her for a minute.

Then when I left she yelled anyway. Oh, well.

Update: Tonight I put her down twice. The first time we rocked and snuggled. The second time, she was be-bopping around so I ducked in to tuck her back in the bed. "Nughdoh!" she demanded. "No, I already snuggled you. Night night." I left. On my way out she commanded, "Way! Stop!" [Wait! Stop] but I left anyway.

Then she yelled. But only briefly.

"Sissa"

Jonathan was reading a book about some mice and kittens to Melissa.
She named the cats off, "Dadda cat, Dachew cat, [and lastly] Sissa Cat!"

Jonathan: Is that a Melissa cat?

Melissa: Yeah!

Today I set up the photo booth on the mac so the kids could take pictures of themselves while I finished cleaning the kitchen.

Melissa pointing at the monitor: Sissa! Sissa!

Unfortunately the photo time didn't last long. [shaking head] two year olds and sharing....

Outsmarting a two year old

Melissa wasn't really interested in breakfast this morning. She jumped down from her chair and got her stuffed doggy harness on, then handed me the leash and got on all fours, so I could take her for a walk.

I did. Right back to the breakfast table.

More things we never thought we'd have to say

"Stop licking the air vent." [Melissa]

"No, you may not eat on the floor." [Matthew]

"No, Daddy does not poop his pants." [Melissa]

"Girls give kisses, not licks." [Melissa, repeatedly]

A new job

I started a new job on Wednesday. My last day at the old job was Tuesday. It would be nice to take a break between but somehow anyone who wants to hire seems to want you to start Right Away. Go figure.

It was a frustrating start, actually, because the new company was/is so brand-new that they didn't have office space, so I and the other 4 in Utah were working from home. (We signed a lease Friday so this should change next week.) (The 2 in California are working from home too but that isn't going to change any time soon.) I'm fine with working from home, but this is the week that our Comcast internet chose to go from "intermittently flaky" to "constantly flaky," where constant flakiness is "up for no more than 10 minutes at a time." When you're dealing with code repositories on VPN, not to mention all the googling that comes with (re)learning a new platform, this is a pain.

We actually got lucky (at least, this doesn't seem to be typical for interactions with Comcast) and the tech we got Friday fixed it immediately. Something to do with how the installer had wired up the line made the modem unable to keep a connection very long. Why it suddenly went from "annoying, but not annoying enough to spend enough time on hold to get a tech out to fix it" to "almost completely unusable," he didn't say. But it's definitely been stable since his visit so I'm inclined to think he knew what he was doing.

The relearning of Java has been a little stressful too. It's been 3 years and 2 major releases of Java since I really touched it at all, and neither of the two IDEs (and a third build system) are what I used before. But I've always been able to be immediately productive in a new environment before, so I've been feeling that pressure, at least from my self. Still, thinking it over, always before I've had the former maintainers of what I'm taking over available at least for my first couple days to answer questions. Although that's true here too, the man in question is (a) my boss and (b) horribly busy with everything else involved in running the new company, both of which make me a little hesitant to ask the sort of "stupid" questions I'd usually ask when starting out.

The bike parade

Our neighborhood had a childrens' bicycle (and tricycle and big wheel and scooter and skates and stroller) parade last Saturday. Matthew rode his New Bike. Melissa rode in the wagon, because somebody stole the new Red Ryder trike that Rachel got her for her birthday. (Seriously. I saw it left out for a couple days, then it was gone. And not because we put it inside. Grr.)

It was a cool parade, with two police escorts. Rachel decorated Matthew's trike with ribbon for the occasion. Matthew was not the youngest, but he was the slowest. He was more diffident than usual; it seemed the handlebars were loose, because he wobbled a lot. But on closer inspection one of the "hub caps" on the back had come off and the wheel was doing its best to come off. So for most of the parade Rachel and I took turns kicking it to keep it on, which Matthew took with relatively good grace.

Also there were donuts at the end. I'm not sure why Rachel didn't tell me about this because I would have been a lot more exited about the whole idea if I'd known.

Uncle Chris letter 3

Dear Uncle Elder Chris,

I made a house of cushions. I put newspaper on top so it looks like a house. Melissa caused trouble [kicking Matthew] and I tickled her hard [hmm] and Daddy took her out and put me in my room and said You can come out.

My computer's making a funny noise. Like this: blibittleblipdoodleit. Like people are talking in my computer sprrrft boing! And they were talking and next time bliddleoop and pwrfgt the C batteries were making a funny noise, but the six batteries were not. [Rachel explains: he thinks batteries that come in a 6-pack are better than the ones in a 4-pack, and Mommy bought the wrong kind.]

I do paper lessons with Mommy where I write letters.

That's all I want to write.

Love, Matthew

It's Saturday,

and Matthew is bellowing his "Time Clean UP!" song from his bedroom. This song is accompanied by lots of bangs and crashes, followed by erie silences. But hey, as long as it gets done I don't care how.

Every Saturday he's supposed to shovel out his room before receiving his weekly allowance. Room cleanup not such a huge battle anymore now that it's at a set time once a week. He knows what to expect, and no surprise room cleanups are pulled on him. (He hates surprises.) The rest of the week I just make a path to his bed when I tuck him in at night.

The Natives are Restless

Due to all of the wildfires in the area, the air quality has been poor. As a result I've kept the kids indoors all week. They are not happy with the situation... Usually we spend a few hours outside everyday (with hats and sunblock mind you), so this is rough. They are starting the climb the walls as is their mother.

Another letter to Uncle Chris

Dear Uncle Elder Chris,

Wednesday I saw fireworks. They were loud. Daddy set them off, and Lissa wanted to help and Daddy said "Lissa sit down!"

Now let's talk about something else. I made an airplane out of legos. Lissa building a lego tower that falls. It fell down, but Lissa not sad.

The kids in preschool were nice. I need to read a book about a wide mouth frog before I go home. It's about a wide mouth frog. We talked about astronauts. And about outer space. There was one kid raised his hand and said he wanted to be an astronaut when he grows up. In outer space.

I want to tell him why I got a haircut. Yesterday I got a haircut. On Monday.

I went to Gramma house a long time ago. I played and watched movies at Gramma's house. I played with Uncles and cousins. I came back my to house and played with my friends.

That's all I want to write.

Love,
Matthew

Preschool

Matthew started preschool last week. We are trying out a preschool in the neighborhood for a month to see how it goes and whether he'll go in the fall. So far it's a hit. Though getting him to move in the morning is like pushing peas from one end of the house to the other by blowing through a straw. He gets easily distracted and bounces off to another direction when getting ready.

Melissa is very displeased that she is unable to attend preschool. She knows that there are games and toys in there, and besides, anything Matthew does is automatically cool. I'm hoping that we can do fun things together while Matthew is away so that she will look forward to "Mommy time."

Will all the four year olds please stand up?

When asked "How old are you," Melissa holds up four fingers and announces, "I four!" Because that's what she sees Matthew do. So far, all attempts to teach her two fingers and "Matthew is four; you're two" have failed.

Plant Scare

Melissa had pilfered a mostly empty yogurt cup from the table and was happily smearing the remnants on her face and the couch. I confiscated the cup and was in the process of tossing it, when I heard a blood curdling scream from the front room. Tears were streaming down Melissa's face and she was wailing full throttle. I checked her head and limbs for bonks or cuts and didn't see anything apparently wrong. Clenched in her fist were two leaves from a plant. One was torn a bit.

Then she started gagging as though she was trying to throw up. Could she have eaten the plant and had a reaction? I rinsed her mouth and tried to get her to drink, without luck. Couldn't call poison control, because I had no idea what the name of the plant was. I tried to look it up in a plant book (while comforting Melissa), but didn't see anything quite like it. Melissa had stopped crying at this point but her face was starting to swell and she was drooling. Yikes!

Quickly I packed both kids up and drove to a nursery on the way to the doctor's office to identify the plant. The woman said it was a dieffenbachia and quite poisonous to pets. We made a mad dash out of the nursery and raced to the doctor's office five minutes away. Every couple of seconds I asked Melissa how she was doing and she'd nod back to me. She hadn't spoken since the painful screaming. Her poor little mouth was even more swollen. We got to the office and signed in. It was only a few minutes before a nurse called Melissa, but it felt like an eternity. During this time Matthew was telling everyone with great relish that his sister had eaten a plant and it made her sick. He also admired the turtle in the aquarium and chattered nonstop with all the kids. The office waiting room was packed, so there were a lot of kids with which to strike up a conversation. Melissa, on the other hand was abnormally silent.

Once in the exam room the nurse gave Melissa some benadryl (which we found out later does not help against plant toxins, but would have been useful if she was having an allergic reaction). Her oxygen levels were great. Thank heavens. She also got a popsicle. Melissa insisted on holding the popsicle, but would not eat it. The doctor came in and said that they'd contacted poison control and that oxalic acid in the plant sap causes a broken glass feeling in the mouth. She said that there really wasn't anything they could give Melissa to help, but they would like to keep her there for while to make sure her throat didn't swell and constrict her breathing.

Here's some info on that nasty plant...

So we waited in the tiny room. There was a TV on the ceiling and Matthew hopped up on the exam table to watch Blues Clues. Melissa mostly wanted to be held. I broke the popsicle into chunks and gave them to her. She resisted initially, but then the cold started to numb her mouth a bit and she gestured for more. About a half hour later she started talking some.

"Baby!" (there was a picture of a baby on the wall).

"Cold!" (the popsicle)

"More!" (referring to the popsicle again after she'd finished it)

She started to get bored in the little room and tried to ransack it. Clearly she was feeling better. The nurse in the hall insisted that we needed to be there at least an hour. Melissa requested another popsicle and the nurse got it. She was getting more vocal and impatient. I think the nurse was starting to tire of us. We saw the doctor about 10 minutes later. :) When the doctor came in, Melissa had just settled down to nurse. The doc had a big grin on her face when she saw that, but apologized for not knocking first. "Oh good! She's feeling up to nursing!"

So we left (Matthew reluctantly, Melissa bolting) and Melissa took a very good nap after her adventure. As soon as we got home, the guilty plant ended up in the trash.

Sunday morning activity

The kids are threading Froot Loops (1/3 less sugar, please) onto threads for "necklaces."

More precisely, Matthew is threading the Froot Loops and Melissa is kneeling on the table being a dog. (Dogs eat Froot Loops without hands, naturally.) It's great when they play nicely together. Matthew volunteered his help when she was distressed about only getting one Loop on her string. She wasn't sure she trusted him immediately but now she is OK with it.

She transformed into a baby dog on the way back to the table. Woof!

We're going to miss this cute stage.

Late to the party

Yesterday I picked up a copy of Steve Jackson's Munchkin. Its humor reminds me of The Order of the Stick. (The comic, not the game. The OOTS game looks lame-ish.) The humor extends to the title:

In gaming, a Munchkin is a player who plays what is intended to be a non-competitive game (usually a role-playing game) in an aggressively competitive manner. A munchkin seeks within the context of the game to amass the greatest power, score the most "kills," and grab the most loot, no matter how deleterious their actions are to role-playing, the storyline, fairness, logic, or the other players' fun.

... which actually describes the card game surprisingly well. Munchkin came out in 2001 and already has 4 full expansions and countless mini-expansions. (And a substantial Wikipedia entry.) Sheesh!

Anyway, we had one of my friends for work -- also an OOTS fan -- and his wife over and played a couple games. It's a keeper for sure, although I doubt I'll be buying all the expansions, at least not immediately. Who can't love a game with a FAQ like

If it's not in the rules, it doesn't matter how logical it is, unless you can talk the other players into it. And if you can, go for it!

or

Steal the Kneepads cards out of all your friends' games and EAT them. If they catch you, lie.

It's also a good candidate for "Grant's birthday present" if he doesn't get it himself after reading this post.

Not to be critical, but

I'm just not a fan of wedding dresses that shout, "Look at my boobs!"

I suppose that's a low-class way to put it, but really -- for your wedding?

Words words words

Melissa is turning into a real chatterbox. She delights in all the words she knows and uses them just to show she can.

Yesterday she decided she was going to name the color of everything she saw. Blue overalls! Red skirt! Pink horse! (That would be the My Little Pony that Grandma got her.) She was still at it when I got home from work.

It was worth it

I started reading Blackcollar: The Judas Solution last night before bed.

I don't recommend this as bedtime reading; I was up until 4 AM finishing it. I do recommend it highly otherwise. I was a little afraid that it wouldn't be up to my memories of the first two Blackcollar books but Zahn delivered.

If you're new to the Blackcollar books, the first two were reissued in one volume simply as Blackcollar shortly before The Judas Solution. (This is a little confusing since Blackcollar was also the title of the first book in the trilogy alone.) Both are now available as inexpensive used hardcover on Amazon.

One downside: the cover artwork of the new books appears to be done by an artist who never read a description of what he was supposed to be illustrating. And trying to do "action shots" was just a bad idea; I prefer the original covers. Oh well.

He said, she said

Matthew came running in this morning. "Daddy, Lissa push me! Lissa push me!" Melissa was hot on his heels. "Dada, Dachew [Matthew] push! Dachew push! Ow!"

It begins. (Melissa has tried to tattle on Matthew in the past, but this is the first time she's been intelligible. Alas.)

That's not cake

Rachel roasted a fantastic chicken for dinner tonight. After chicken and potatoes and salad and watermelon, Melissa was a mess. Seemed like a good night to have dessert in the tub, so Rachel bundled them off while I dished up the chocolate cake, which I then duly delivered.

I retired to the living room, but was quickly summoned back by Rachel yelling something. I hurried to the tub and saw the kids out of the tub and chunks of brown floating in the tub.

"That's not cake," Rachel said. "Why don't you take the kids for a shower?"

So I did, while she cleaned the tub.

Sometimes I think Matthew was a tougher baby than his sister. All the same, Melissa is now 3 months older than Matthew was when we decided to have another.

Shooting Aliens

A couple weeks ago I got my first "real" PS3 game.  I've actually bought several games from the online store, but none of the full $60 games really seemed worth it to me.  Finally Resistance got down to under $30 used so I picked up a copy, not coincidentally before Rachel's brothers came out for Chris's MTC induction -- Brian introduced me to Halo a couple years ago; I figured I should return the favor.

I'm hooked.  The plot isn't as gripping as Halo's (whose is?), but it's above average for the genre.  And the game itself delivers.  I'm enjoying myself immensely.

Rachel even played co-op with me for one session and admitted that "it wasn't as bad as I expected."  Which for her is pretty high praise of an FPS.

Flying with a two year old is hell

Matthew is pretty good on the airplane now. Give him his gameboy, or put a Superman DVD in Rachel's macbook, and he's good to go. I got him a pair of Sony noise-cancelling headphones -- under 20% of the price of the Bose ones and almost as effective. (But the Maxell ones I also got kinda suck.)

Melissa is another story. She didn't like headphones, so the DVD only worked for about 10 minutes. Then she went through the books and activities Rachel packed in about half an hour. Which left only another 4 hours of hell each way to New Jersey. She did NOT want to be strapped in her seat; when we unstrapped her, she wanted to climb over the seat to say hello to the passengers behind her, or tromp up and down the isles, both of which get old for the other passengers in fairly short order. So on the way back we decided strapped-in was the way to go, despite her protests. And did she ever protest.

I told my mom we'd fly out again when Christine gets married. (This does not seem likely to occur in the near future.) She thought I was joking at first; when she realized I was serious, she said hopefully, "But she'll grow out of this; Matthew did." "Yeah," I replied, "and by that time we'll have another one again."

David is married

David got married Saturday. I didn't really get a chance to spend much time with his wife, Dielha, so perhaps for that reason it still feels kind of abstract to me. Or maybe it's because he dated her less before their marriage than Telitha did Nolan or Grant did Lisa.

Dielha does seem to be a gentle soul.

Most of the family friends that I know, the Princeton ones, didn't make it to this reception; they were on the "must look up addresses" list and didn't get looked up. Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing some of them again.

But, the wedding cake was definitely the best I have had. Most wedding bakers don't spend much effort making it actually taste good as long as it looks good. This one was excellent.

We stayed to clean up; fortunately it ended at 8 so we weren't there too late. But Mom was up til one washing tablecloths. (I helped with the first batch but went to bed before it hit the dryer.)

Grant wrote about some more details of the reception on his blog. I'm going to shamelessly crib one bit here:

Last night I gave my (now four-year-old) nephew a pitcher of tang to carry into the party when we were setting up, under the theory that he (a) wanted to help, (b) an element of risk makes the sense of accomplishment greater, and (c) nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Grandpa Ellis, who caught us, explained that this was added to the list of Things I Was Not Allowed to Do.

What I didn't tell him was that he didn't catch us until the second pitcher.

Addendum: My wife points out that she caught us earlier, but what she said was, "That one is really, really full," so I just went back to the kitchen and gave him a less full one.

I'm an obedient husband!

On being a little sister-

of big brother...

How many 2 year old girls do you know that can accurately name batman, spiderman, and her favorite, "SOUP-Man!" [superman]?

Most recently Melissa has started to chatter about "trackman".

Matthew checked out a book from the library titled Tractionman about an action figure that goes on numerous adventures around the house. Currently it's his favorite book and he's even taken to calling his GI Joe "man" doll tractionman. He filled the sink up with water and put tractionman in scuba gear to go rescuing sponges. Daddy's shoes are now space ships and he saves his farm animals from various nefarious villains found around the house. This doll goes with him everywhere and Matthew reads the book to his tractionman each night. (And who says boys don't play with dolls? Boy dolls just have super abilities and a liking for big weapons and/or daring deeds to save the day.) He now wants to make some more clothes for tractionman because his (tractionman's) favorite colors are orange and blue. Or so Matthew has informed me. Guess I'm going to have to stitch up some tiny orange Bermuda shorts...

Things that go bump in the night

Scene: Matthew and Melissa have been put to bed, but are not asleep.

Matthew: Thump.

Matthew: Thump.

Matthew: THUMP.

Rachel: What is he doing? Jumping off the dresser!?

Me: ...

Matthew: THUMP.

I get up to investigate. He is, indeed, jumping off the dresser. I put him back to bed.

Melissa: [cries]

Back in the saddle

The diaper saddle, that is.

The last straw was when Rachel caught Melissa about to poop, and spirited her away to the potty in time. Matthew was yelling for something Right Now, so Rachel left Melissa there for a couple minutes. When she got back, Melissa had gotten off the potty so she could poop on the floor.

So Melissa's back in diapers for the time being.

Good karma saves a bad day

Thursday we were supposed to have our new hardwood floor installed in the master bedroom. (This is the floor we bought after Melissa smeared indelible rouge into the carpet.) When the installers arrived, we discovered that the lumber we'd been sold was cut into uniform 12 inch pieces, useless as flooring. Technically, you could use it; it would just be horribly unsightly.

I was at work. Rachel called Lumber Liquidators. They said it was the mill's fault. Rachel called the mill. They said you get what you get and that's that. She went back to LL and they said we could exchange for something else but pretty much everything in stock was twice the price or more. We were pretty annoyed. We could go through the credit card company but I didn't look forward to trying to explain that while yes, we did get something that, technically, matched the description of what we paid for, it was unfit for its intended purpose. I didn't picture a low-paid claims worker necessarily being capable of that sort of distinction.

Fortunately, our installer, Rich Wood, was in our corner. He and his wife had installed our floor in the main room last year, and we were pleased enough with their work that we paid them more than they charged us. They remembered Rachel, and when she told him of the runaround she'd been getting, he called up LL and arranged for us to exchange for a lot of seconds at the same price. We're not sure why he had more influence with LL than did Rachel; perhaps some of his clients have him take care of ordering the lumber as well as installation. At any rate, he arranged for the exchange, and even took care of transportation. (We don't have a truck so I'd had to borrow a friend's on Saturday to bring over the original lot.)

So, everything ended up working out. The seconds look fine; Rachel says they look like they have about 10 Matthew-hours of wear, versus pristine wood. No big deal for us. And the Woods will be getting another bonus.

A letter from Matthew

Dear Uncle Elder Chris,

When I grow up, I want to be a missionary. I want to have my own wife and my own kids. I will have lots of jobs. I will cook dinner and start the [barbecue] fire. When Jackson was 5, he helped start up the fire. I will get charcoal and put in stuff that has fire and put it on top of the charcoal and start the fire.

I love my family. I have my own garden where I planted seeds. Flower seeds. Pumpkin seeds -- and you should see the plants in my garden; it's a surprise, when it gets bigger.

I play with my friends.

Now I want to write about dinosaur bones. Dinosaur bones are fun to see at the museum. It's really fun, and there's dinosaur bones. And sharks hanging from the top [ceiling]. All of them died.

Did you know about snakes? That's kind of silly, snakes in a dinosaur museum.

That's all.

Love,

Matthew

Power struggle

Melissa pooped in her pants today. A couple hours later, she peed her pants for good measure.

Both times we had her "practice" by putting on the underwear, going back to the scene of the crime, and going back to the potty, 10 times. Rachel and I took turns doing the practice because it's really a chore, with Melissa kicking and screaming and generally making it very clear that she does not want to practice.

I told my mother about this and she said "Sounds like a power struggle," and suggested we just wait a few months. But, Rachel points out, we're already in the power struggle and Melissa is already stubborn enough. Encouraging that by appearing to capitulate in this might not be a great idea.

(Edit: oops, didn't realize that Rachel already posted about this. First dupe in over two years isn't bad, though.)

All sisters need a brother...

Yesterday our first niece was born (congratulations Lisa and Grant!). Upon hearing the news Matthew asked if his new cousin had a brother like 'Lissa does. We told him no, not at this time, but maybe someday. He thought for a moment and declared that his new cousin should have a brother when she got big like him.

Potty Training Update

Melissa was potty-trained, but decided it was too much effort (or something). She went from staying dry with very rare accidents, perhaps one or two times a week, to several times in one day. There is no medical or other reason that we can come up with for the regression. The child knows exactly what to do and how to do it, she just chooses not to...

(This is what happens when two stubborn people meet, marry, and procreate.)

I tried voicing disapproval, bribing, and even a swat on the rump- to no avail. I wish I had not resorted to spanking, not only did it not work, but it goes against my principles. I planned on resorting to corporal punishment sparingly and only for flat out defiance. Sigh.

So today we took a new (old) tack. We went back to "practice sessions" for dirtied undies. In the event of an "accident" she must take them off, sit on the potty for a few seconds, put the wet pair back on, and then return to the scene of the crime. We then have her check her pants (still wet) and repeat the process 10 times. There is no yelling or punishment, just the repetition of quickly getting to the bathroom. She HATES to practice. Almost as much as we do directing the practice sessions. We'll see if this works... Meanwhile I think I'm going to have retrain her dolls and see if that helps "The Importance of Staying Dry" sink in.

Toy lust

This sounds like so much fun. And safer than a "real" motorcycle. (Much safer, Rachel.)

The blame game

There was a puddle under the table where there was no reason to have a puddle. Melissa stepped in it. Rachel, watching from the sink, sprang into action. "Oh, no! That better not be what I think it is!" Melissa had indeed peed on the floor.

Sensing impending butt swattage, she pointed a finger at Matthew and cried, "Yoo di' it!"

Mommy wasn't fooled, and administered the called-for butt swattage to the dismay of the pint-sized prevaricator.

Things I didn't realize parenting involved

• Butt checks: your son is ostensibly wiping his own bottom after discussions with City Hall, but while his work may be good enough for government, part of the bedtime routine is now cleaning up what he missed during the day
  

Singing time

Melissa likes to sing, even more than her brother did at 2 (and much more than he does now).

The first song she sang recognizably was "Happy Birthday," around 6 months ago. Then she added "Are You Sleeping," "The Wheels on the Bus," and "Once there was a Snowman," which I remember was her aunt Telitha's favorite when she was a little girl. But Melissa's favorite right now is the Bus song, probably because it has rolling arm actions. (Round and round...)

Now I'm trying to teach her "Horsey, Horsey," but she hasn't really taken to it. Maybe I should try a different song instead.

"Igladyoulations"

in Matthew-speak or "congratulations" to the rest of us.

Matthew loves to compete, but hates to lose. He would dissolved into a soggy (and noisy) mass of tears after losing. Lately, after much coaching, he has become more gracious in defeat. We have drilled it into his skull that he needs to congratulate his opponent after the game. When he wins he needs to say "good game" or words to that effect.

Matthew really loves the tennis game on the Wii and practiced while his Daddy was at work. Previously Jonathan beat him easily, but Matthew learned a few tricks...

On a Saturday they played their rematch of three sets of three. Matthew served the ball and sent it smoking across the net. Daddy's mii's swung aimlessly. (Jonathan still hasn't worked out how Matthew does his power serves.) In short Daddy got pounded. Matthew was literally dancing with glee, but he remembered to congratulate his Daddy when one of his serves was returned or Jonathan won a game. Despite Jonathan winning a game here and there, Matthew took home victory of all the match sets. The game ended with a very pleased little boy, and a somewhat chagrined Daddy.

A cry in the night

Last night, just as I was settling into bed, I heard Matthew yell, "NO, 'Lissa! NO!" in his sleep. Poor guy, his sister even harasses him in his dreams.

(I talk in my sleep too, but Rachel says I'm usually unintelligible.)

A Mother's "Purse"

An inventory of random stuff that has accumulated in my purse/kid paraphernalia depository

1 portable potty seat
2 pairs of training pants
1 pack baby wipes
1 Scooby-doo "Mystery Machine" bus
11 pens
1 colored pencil
2 fat crayons
1 AA battery
1 plastic grocery bag
2 tiny hair bows
1 hair brush
1 Candy Land playing piece (red)
1 tooth brush
1 sample diaper rash cream
3 chap stick tubes
1 clothespin
1 bottle hand sanitizer
1 wooden top
1 tractor notepad
1 small wrench
1 (bear) clothing patch
1 used band aid
1 beaded coin pouch
1 purple diaper "snappi"
Assorted receipts, grocery lists, and recipes
$ 1.51 in change
2 elastic hair bands
1 rubber band

And a wallet and keys if I can find them...

(To think that I used to get by with just a wallet, keys, and a tube of lipstick!)

Three's a crowd

Matthew's new best friend is Mason, who lives two houses down the street. Mason just turned 6; Matthew is 4 1/2, but they mesh pretty well despite the age difference. On days when Matthew doesn't go over to ask if Mason can come play, it's because Mason came over to ask first.

Their favorite indoor activity is playing The Incredibles on XBox. I'm sure they'd have beaten it by now but they keep overwriting their saved game by starting over.

They play Incredibles off the xbox, too. Sometimes Matthew is Mr. Incredible; sometimes he is Frozone. This involves a lot of jumping, chasing, and punching of imaginary foes, and is best kept outside.

Sometimes McKay next door plays, too. McKay is 7 and used to being in charge. He and Matthew get along okay when it's just the two of them, but when Mason is over too, the two older boys mostly play together and Matthew gets a little left out. Matthew doesn't really know how to deal with this, so he usually ends up starting a fight one way or another, and Mom or Dad has to send everyone home.

Mother's Day

Jonathan and Matthew really planned out a nice Mother's Day this year. On Saturday, Jonathan took Matthew to a nursery where they had "marigolds for mom" so he could pot a flower for me. He was so excited to give it to me that he couldn't wait till Sunday. As soon as he saw me he shouted, "Happy Mother's Day!!! Look! I made dis for you!" They also picked up some chocolates and dinner at a restaurant for the next day.

Melissa gifted me with hardwood floors for our bedroom. (Well, more accurately she created the need for new flooring after an unfortunate run-in with my makeup and the carpet.) Still, I'm not complaining- I love hardwood.

Saturday afternoon I got a call from someone in the primary presidency. "Can you teach Matthew's class tomorrow?" Clearly the woman was desperate, so I couldn't say no. Jonathan (the weasel) just laughed and said no way was he going to teach the class for me.

"Hey, you're the one who said yes."
"Well, yeah, but really she would have asked anyone who answered the phone. Besides, it's Mother's Day tomorrow*," I pleaded. The man wouldn't budge. Grrr.

Sunday Matthew came bounding in with eggs and toast. (His Daddy helped- thank goodness!) Matthew was soo excited to make breakfast in bed for his mama. It was very sweet. Jonathan's conscience must have pricked him becaused he offered to teach Matthew's sunday school class. Pride had the better of me though and I turned him down, besides, I'd planned it out already. He did get things printed for the lesson, (for some reason the printer doesn't recognize my laptop over the wireless network...or something like that).

The kids were good in Matthew's class and we made cards for their moms.

After church, Jonathan set up my Mother's Day gift. He gave me a Wii ;) He also "cooked" a delicious dinner picked up the previous day. Mmm! Italian pasta!

Throughout the day Matthew would shout, "Happy Mother's Day! Are you having a good day?" Melissa would chime in by throwing her arms in the air and yelling "Hooray!"

We both called our moms. From the sounds of it, they were having lovely Mother's Days as well. All in all a great day.


* I must have grown up in a more enlightened ward. On Mother's Day, the women didn't do anything except enjoy a nice lesson. The men and boys subsituted in nursery, taught primary, and took over all the jobs the women had on that particular day.

Hippos

While bathing Matthew, he pointed his body and asked "What these?"

"Those are nipples."

"Oh, hippos." He thought for a minute and asked, "what they for?"

"Well, on Mamas they are for nursing babies, but on boys and Daddies they are for decoration."

"Why hippos for decoration?"

"I don't know son. That's just the way God made you."

For once he accepted that explanation without launching into 20 questions.

I am not really looking forward to discussing "the birds and the bees." I'm sure that's coming up soon...

A pleasant surprise

Rachel's sister got me a RC corvette for Christmas. The kids, of course, immediately claimed it as theirs, and shortly thereafter it stopped working. The battery still had a charge, and so did the controller. It just didn't work anymore.

Sadly, I consigned it to my office, AKA my room of half-finished projects, AKA the room my wife swore never to enter let alone clean, AKA the room she is cleaning at this moment. (Something about a cluttered room just gets under her skin like you wouldn't believe. Unless you are married, in which case you probably understand perfectly.)

Anyway, while she was cleaning, Melissa got in, and saw the vette. "Car!" she exclaimed. I picked it and the controller up so she wouldn't break it. Sure, it was already broken, but Dad habits die hard. I noticed for the first time that the controller had a channel selector, and it was on 4. Could this be the source of the problem? Sure enough, the car was on channel 1.

I think I've mentioned before that Rachel is the mechanically inclined one of the family.

Pretty!

For someone so small, Melissa has strong opinions on her clothing. I have to coax and cajole her into wearing something appropriate to the weather and occasion.

"No dear, we don't wear swimming suits to the grocery store," for example.

Every morning we go through this-

"How about this shirt?" NO!

"Oh look! This one is a pretty one!" NO!

At some point we'll either settle on a shirt, or run out of options, and I will have to wrestle her into rejected attire.

Just yesterday we passed a teen clothing shop in the mall. The shirts on display were loaded with rhinestones and glitter. "Preetty!" "OOohh, Preeetty, pretty!!!" Melissa toddled into the store in awe. Much to her disappointment I had to tear her away without purchasing a gaudy, strappy number.

Is this just foreshadowing the future?

Day of defeat

Both the kids like playing hide and seek. Melissa just likes being chased. Matthew's gotten more sophisticated; for the last couple weeks he's really gotten tough to find. He used to make too much noise to stay effectively hidden, but no longer. Last time I had to give up and call out the All's Clear -- turns out he was hiding behind the master bath shower curtain. He was very pleased with himself for having outsmarted Dad.

Is she trained?

Yesterday and the day before were entirely accident-free. Today Melissa clutched her pants and said, "uh-oh, wet!" She made a break for the toilet where she finished her business. We inspected her pants and they had only a few drops on them- so she managed to catch herself in time. I'm cautiously optimistic.

I've spared our gentle readers all the messy details the past few weeks. Suffice it to say that I will be having our carpets cleaned...soon!

(I feel like breaking out into a happy potty-trained dance. YEESSsss!)

The haircut

I cut my hair down to about 1/4 inch today, from about 6 inches. (Rachel: "It was more like 8 inches.")

Rachel: "I just realized that I liked you with long hair." (This after making it clear that she was Just Humoring Me until I came to my senses, the whole time it was long.)

Matthew: "I don't want a haircut like Daddy!"

Melissa: didn't say anything, but tried to apply the razor to her own hair. (Rachel stopped her in time.)

At least one of my family approves. Sort of.

Part of this complete breakfast

Rachel is prone to complaining, on occasion, about the nutritional value of what I sometimes serve our children for breakfast. Popcorn, for instance. Or chocolate cake. (The moist, dense kind, you know. The good kind.)

This morning though, I noticed the remains of her breakfast before she disposed of the evidence: a glass of orange juice and a chocolate bar.

Ha!

Early to rise

Melissa has been getting up between 4:30 and 6 this week. Today was closer to 6. Daddy does not approve.

Little Mama

Matthew bosses Melissa constantly. "You're not Daddy," I tell him when I he does this inappropriately.

Now Melissa's getting in on the act. Matthew was climbing on the love seat, which he's not supposed to do. "Machew, mine!" she told him. [Matthew, mind!]

He got down, but objected, "Daddy, 'Lissa not Mama!" I agreed, and told Melissa so.

Quite contrary

We started potty training Melissa yesterday. It went pretty well except for the poop all over the hall. So I guess not really that well.

Today she didn't really want to cooperate. Didn't want to take pants off. Didn't want to get on the toilet. Didn't want to get off the toilet. Didn't want to put pants back on. Etc.

Now it's noon. 6 sittings on the toilet, no pee in the toilet, 3 wet pairs of underwear. Stubborn girl.

Maybe she'll be in a better mood after her nap.

Dress-up

We got home last night and Melissa promptly put on a pair of Rachel's shoes. She clomped around a bit but apparently decided Daddy was insufficiently impressed. "Look dada!" she said. "Mama shoes!"

I'm actually a little bit dreading Melissa becoming fully articulate. It's a lot easier to tune out when they're unintelligible.

The wiggles

(No, not the Australian entertainers, although Matthew likes them too.)

When Matthew's bladder gets full, he has even more trouble holding still than usual. Instead of standing he practically dances. But sometimes he won't want to interrupt whatever he is doing with going to the bathroom, so his mom or I will have to remind him.

"But I don't need go pee!"

"You've got wiggles, Matthew! I can see that you need to go!"

And then he will go.

A couple weeks ago I took the kids to the Kneader's drive-through to pick up dinner. Kneader's is Rachel's favorite sandwich place, and in the running for her favorite restaurant period. But they are also perhaps the slowest drive-through in Salt Lake Valley.

Shortly after placing our order, Matthew announced, "I need go pee!" "Patience," I advised. "We'll just pick up the food, then go home, and you can pee." A couple minutes passed. Matthew squirmed. "I GOT WIGGLES!" A few more minutes. Some grunting and much more squirming. Frustrated, he finally yelled, "STUPID PENIS!"

I gave up on the drive through and pulled into a parking spot, then took Matthew inside to pee. We picked up our drive-through order on the inside that night.

Matthew Makes Lunch

So today didn't start out so red hot... Matthew and Melissa both had a serious case of the grumps (the whiny, stomping around, kind of grouchiness). Grumpiness is infectious and pretty soon I was feeling grumpy too. Not only that, but the mess level increased dramatically. Every time I turned around someone had spilled, ripped, dropped, or scattered something. To top it off, Matthew was careless in the bathroom and missed to toilet in favor of his clothes, shoes (which he isn't supposed to wear indoors anyways), and the floor. I couldn't help him since I was attending Melissa's needs and told him to put the clothes in the hamper and wipe up the mess. He did. About an hour later I noticed baby wipes in MY toilet bowl in MY bathroom. Apparently he decided to use my bathroom when he had an accident.

It was time to go outside. Sunblocked, shod, and hatted, we went outdoors. The lettuce needed to be planted anyways. So we planted lettuce, swiss chard and flowers. This year I made a 5'x5' raised bed for Matthew's garden. He is immensely pleased to have his "own garden" in which he picks what goes it it. "I can do it all by Myself, Mama." Attitudes greatly improved and Matthew decided it was lunch time. Melissa wasn't done helping me plant the sunflowers, so Matthew dashed off announcing he was going to make lunch. "Sure, you can pick out what you want for lunch," I said absently.

About 10 minutes later he had prepared 2 plates of fruit that he'd cut up himself. He cut some strawberries and put them in a glass juice cup, cut three sections of bananas, 3 blueberry muffins, and 2 oranges not cut up but in 2 more juice glasses. (Apparently he had tried to peel an orange as evidenced by a mangled pulp on the counter but decided against serving it).

He was so proud of himself.
"I make lunch all by myself." "You like it Mama?" he asked several times, and I assured him I did. "Lissa, Mama like Matthew's lunch!" "I'm a big boy and can do it all by myself." We ate lunch outside per his request.

I asked him if he wanted some cheese too.
"That not part of my lunch. I made lunch."
"Well then how about after lunch as a snack?"
"Okay."
So we had cheese (always trying to sneak some protein down those two) and then popsicles. A very successful (and sticky) lunch.

Now they are napping. The baby wipes are still floating in the toilet, the counters are sticky, and the laundry needs to be done. Yet it is so peaceful.

No, David!

One of Matthew's favorite books is about this kid David who gets into a lot of trouble. The text mainly consists of the words "no" and "David." At the end it shows that his mother still loves him despite his mischief.

I read the book twice with a kid on each side today. Melissa liked the book as well. When I finished, she glommed onto the book and began reading herself. Only she did a little editing...

Prattle, prattle, NO Matthew!
Jabber, jabber, Matthew no, no, no!

Ronald McDonald House and Breastfeeding

I ordinarily don't posts links to other sites...and I like to keep this blog primarily about M&M, but this really raised my dander.

http://www.mothering.com/discussions/showthread.php?t=654648

Apparently the Ronald McDonald House asked the mother of an ill toddler (recovering from a brain tumor) to not breastfeed in any communal areas or to leave the house. Why? Because there are people of many "cultures" there who may be offended by a nursing mother and baby. Bottlefeeding is perfectly fine though. So this poor mother of twin babies is required to trek 3 flights of stairs to her room everytime her ill baby needs to nurse. A sick babe nurses alot, like a newborn. The whole situation is simply outrageous. A sick baby in particular needs the antibodies passed through breastmilk. I am also curious which cultures forbid breastfeeding. Even the Saudi women who are covered head to toe think nothing of nursing in public. I have seen pictures of a black clad figure with a bare breast and babe attached whilst in public. I might add that I've seen many nursing American mothers with little to nothing showing at all. Got me thinking about all the places I've nursed my babies. Never have I been asked to leave.

(I discreetly nurse and rarely has anyone been the wiser. Can't even recall the number of times someone has asked have a closer look at the baby, unaware that the baby was eating!)

*edited to add: discreet does not mean a big 'ol blanket draped from neck to waist. I tried that a few times with my first and not only does it advertise exactly what you are doing, but he'd constantly pull the blanket off! Complete opposite of discreet.

Places I have nursed:

On an airplane
at church
at the park
the zoo
the bookstore
many resturants
the grocery store (slings are wonderful- can push a shopping cart and feed baby at the same time!)
the library
doctor's office
on a tram
while watching a parade
on a hike in the mountains
while cooking
at the movies
during a concert
at an orchard
in the city
in the country
various museums
and on....

Zing

Matthew was a little grumpy.

"Matthew, go eat your eggs at the table," his mom told him.

"Rrr! You making me rude!"

"No, you came that way naturally."

Matthew the dietician

We were looking at our flickr photos last night. We came to a picture of one of Rachel's cousin dinners. Matthew got really excited: "There Mama! There Matthew! There 'Lissa! There Uncle Will! There Aunt Heather!" He paused. "Aunt Heather can't lift me up. She not strong enough. She need eat more broccoli."

Originally Written for the Cousin Chronicle

Since we have a little boy who loves trains, it's become a tradition to do something train related the Saturday before Easter. One year we went up north where this hobbyist has a museum and working passenger train on his property as well as many smaller model trains. They had an Easter egg hunt at that time too. Matthew had a ball. This year we rode the Heber Creeper. Matthew was soo excited. He composed a song especially for the occasion that he sang while "cleaning" his room.

When we got on the train Matthew and Melissa both had the biggest grins. This was their first actual train ride so we had to investigate the entire length of the train many times. (Up and down through the passenger cars, the snack car, the open car, the caboose, the observation deck, ect.) The train blasted its horn at various intersections. This dismayed Matthew who covered his ears, but Melissa just grinned and said "Toot toot!" I think she is used to noisy things being the younger sister of a very loud brother.

We went on the 90 minute ride which is the shortest one. It was just long enough for the kids to enjoy without the novelty wearing off. Afterwards we met with an old friend of mine from WA for hamburgers at the "Dairy Keen." The resturant was train themed with a little train table to play with, and the shakes...just divine! I'm starting to drool on the keyboard thinking about them. It's just as well that we don't live in Heber though- the shakes were 14% cream...

Easter morning the kids went on a hunt with the Galbraiths, friends of ours. Lest any cousins think we're prolific, these guys have us beat hands down. They've been married 5 years and have 4 kids under the age of 4. Yup, they're busy. Raising kids, I mean. So anyways, the kids cleaned up the eggs in record time this year. (And virtually had a breakfast of jelly beans and chocolate despite our efforts. So far they don't show signs of permanent damage so I guess once a year is all right.)

At church the music was especially beautiful and Matthew was so good through the service. Melissa was patient through about half of sacrament meeting. What I heard on forgiveness and kindness was wonderful. Jonathan says the rest of the meeting was good too, but I was baby walking in the halls at that point. I also got tapped to teach Matthew's primary class, again. Knowing the class has a serious case of wiggles, I decided to use the Easter story egg hunt. (Thanks Mom!) Jonathan hid the eggs outside before class. The hunt was a hit, with only 1 scrapped knee to bandage. Pretty good. I think the kids even learned something about Jesus and the resurrection.

All in all a great Easter.

An email from Matthew

Mama and Daddy and Matthew and Melissa are my family.

Matthew has lots of friends.

[At this point Matthew suggested I write about flowers, but I was unable to discover what exactly. Finally he suggested I write about "something else."]

Matthew likes Emma and Nick and Sister White.

["There more stuff I want in my email."]

We went on a train.

Another Matthew Song

This morning I heard lots of splashing and singing coming from the bathroom. Matthew was "styling" his hair and had composed a special piece on hygiene just for the occasion.

Wash my hands and face
That's what I do after
I poop and pee in the toilet
Wash my hands
Wash my hands
Why?
Because, because
I like styling my hair
Styling hair is fun with a brush
In the bathroom I comb my hair
Styling hair
Styling hair
Everyday

Like Matthew, like Melissa?

Like most older brothers, I suppose, Matthew is a profound influence on Melissa. I could write paragraphs and paragraphs on this subject, but I think I can sum it up much more concisely: of all the toys in the house, the only one Melissa calls by name is, "Buzz." [Lightyear]

A Matthew song

Matthew is singing as he cleans his room. At least, he's supposed to be cleaning his room. I'm kinda scared of checking.

We're going on train
We're going on train
Why we are not going on airplane?
Why we are not going on airplane?
Because, because
Tomorrow is Easter!
I so happy tomorrow is Easter
I like surprises [presents]
I so happy Momma Dadda take care of Matthew
I so happy we're going on train
My ow feels better
On my finger, my ow feels better

Marshmallow warfare

Today we had the Cassler clan over to listen to conference. Matthew was dancing with excitment ever since he heard that they would be coming. He grew most impatient when they didn't arrive first thing in the morning. "I'm having a hard day. I tired of waiting!!!" When they did arrive he whopped with delight. "THEY'RE HERE!!!" The Casslers have 4 boys and beautiful Eve. So it was a fun filled (busy) morning.

We had crepes for breakfast, and after conference the boys assembled marshmallow guns. Earlier I cut the pvc pipe and put the connecting joints into bags so each boy had a kit. The boys had a grand time with them. What a great cheap toy! Mostly they tried to see how far they could shoot. However there were a few friendly skirmishes and some snipper shooting. Since the war took place outside, I didn't have to clean any sticky marshmallow ammo. Good times!

Rock Walk

On a walk this evening, Melissa stopped by every yard to admire the rocks. Our neighborhood has a lot of rocks. "Rah'! Rah'! Rah'!" She's so pleased with being able to name things.

Her vocabulary has taken off in the last couple weeks. A couple nights ago she tried to point the moon out to her mom. ("Moo!") Rachel didn't understand; we didn't know she knew that word. So Melissa clarified: "Ih sty!" [In the sky!]

Also on the walk today, Melissa navigated a retaining wall by the sidewalk. She was very pleased with her balancing skills. "A' me! A' me!" [Look at me!]

Did I Mention?

...that I married the most wonderful man in the universe? I called Jonathan at work and asked he'd take care of dinner tonight. I had a headache and general malaise. I put a short movie on for the kids was sprawled out on the couch feeling miserable. He showed up 40 minutes later (he left a little early and will likely have to finish some work tonight). He then took the kids to a burger play area to burn off excess energy. It snowed today so there wasn't much running around outside. Right now I recuperating in a quiet house. O Wonderful Man!

Uncle Ellis's Birthday

Ellis invited us to his birthday party tonight, kids and all. And what a good time was had!

Ellis collects Nerf guns like I collect video games. He has an impressive variety, including several semi-automatics and one fully automatic. He and his brother Jon and Matthew shot at each other for at least half an hour, with much four-year-old dancing and giggling and screaming with glee. They would shoot at each other, reconvene to sort out the ammo (Nerf guns apparently aren't quite standardized, unfortunately), then blast away some more. Ellis's sister Becky and Jon's wife Deborah were mostly-innocent bystanders. Matthew was not above using them as human shields, but they accepted that with good grace.

After that, Ellis took Matthew and Melissa outside and convinced Matthew to run from one end of the yard to the other, over and over, while Ellis timed him. ("You're slowing down, Matthew! I think you must be getting tired!")

Everyone was impressed by Matthew's energy. And everyone thought Melissa's burgeoning vocabulary was just adorable. ("I [my] turn! I turn!")

We also got a couple rounds of Baby Ball and Bigboy Ball in. Melissa was delighted, but just a little scared I think. Matthew was just delighted.

Then we had cake and ice cream and the unwrapping of presents. (Merrie gave Ellis another Nerf gun, among others.)

When we got home, Matthew fell asleep as quickly as I can remember. I think for once he was well and truly tired.

P.S. Jon hadn't read Grant's holiday letter for 06 and declared it the funniest thing he had ever read.
P.P.S. Grant, there are clerkships in Utah too...

Hit and miss

I picked up a Looney Tunes collection to bribe the kids to leave Daddy alone in the morning. Unfortunately they do not really share the same taste in TV right now. Matthew loves the Looney Tunes but Melissa gets bored after a couple clips. Melissa loves the Wind In The Willows cartoon but Matthew is uninterested. Bleh.

Interestingly, Matthew can also be entertained watching me play Jade Empire. (Jade Empire is kind of "BioWare lite." Less complicated in pretty much every dimension than their earlier RPGs, presumably to appeal to a wider audience. Unfortunately I find it less engrossing as well, but even BioWare Lite is better than most studio's best fare.) Alas, while most of Jade Empire would be fine with a Teen rating, occasionally you see things that earned it the Mature designation, like the graphic blood fountain when one bad guy got beheaded in a cutscene.

Maybe I'll take up FFXII while waiting for Mass Effect. (Curse BioWare for making me buy Microsoft's consoles, anyway. Last generation it was KotOR, and now Mass Effect.)

Bedtime wars, part 2

Melissa is adapting well to Daddy At Night. A full sippy cup has been indispensable. She usually wakes up once and allows me to rock her back to sleep without protest. Sometimes she has not woken up at all.

(Sorry, "everything is going fine" is a boring update, but there you are. And at almost 2 she really is overdue to start sleeping through the night.)

These things happen

After dinner Friday night, Rachel burped loudly. "Excuse me!" she said, startled.

Matthew was understanding: "That's okay, Mama: sometimes you burp; sometimes you poop your underwear. These things happen."

(Last Saturday was Grandma Johnson's funeral, which Matthew's gut chose as the occasion to grace him with explosive diarrhea. He didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Rachel knew it was an accident, and told him, "These things happen.")