Everyman report

I mis-set my alarm last night and instead of taking a 20 minute nap at 11, I slept for 3 hours. So I called that my core sleep for the day. I felt pretty groggy until my 7:00 nap, after which I felt pretty good, around 90% mental capacity. Didn't really feel sleep deprived all day; naps at 12 and 5.

Now I'm proceeding with my original plan, having core sleep from 3 or 4 until the kids wake me up around seven. This appeals to me because I like waking up next to Rachel, and she doesn't want me in the room with her if my alarm is going to go off.

So I napped at 11 and now I'm holding out until 3 before going down for core sleep. I was okay for a bit but now I have to say I'm pretty wasted. Mental capacity: 40%? I did some light programming earlier after Rachel went to bed (I optimized my xml-based template generator by adding a pre-processing phase that cuts the amount of evals during the main phase by half -- see, I told you a few blog entries ago that when I work on a project that I can take pictures of, I have to jump at it because most of my work is just that... interesting) but now my brain is stuffed with cotton. I think I will watch some starcraft videos.

(What, you didn't know you can download videos of Korean professional starcraft matches from the comfort of your own sofa? Ha.)

Everyman day 1

I'm trying something that I freely admit is a little bizarre: the everyman sleep schedule. Rachel is skeptical but I've read enough anecdotal evidence to think it's worth trying. A sustainable extra 3-4h per day would be pretty awesome. And if this actually works for me, Rachel will be pleased by the side effects -- virtually everyone agrees that a healthy diet is required to make this work.

I've wanted to try this for a while now and with my sleep schedule whacked out anyway from the all-nighter Thursday, I figure maybe this will be an easier time than most to adjust. Or maybe it won't. Nobody really knows. :)

Since Wednesday night I've slept about 8 hours. So far I feel fine, although I can tell my mind isn't up to anything challenging, like thinking about multithreaded state. I realized a long time ago that this kind of reasoning suffers a lot more for me than the verbal part of my mind when I'm short on sleep. Supposedly it takes a week or longer to go from being merely sleep deprived to adapted.

Also I feel colder than usual. Perhaps my metabolism is slowing. If I am still doing this Monday, I will hit the gym when it opens at 5:30. On Saturday it is closed at 7, at which point the kids will be up. Maybe I will take them with me today a bit later.

[written at 6 AM but blogger didn't post it then]

I just discovered the world's best snack food

I felt like cheese and crackers tonight. Everyone else was having Goodwood leftovers.

The pulled pork looked tasty, so I tried some with my extra sharp cheddar and wheat thins.

HEAVEN.

I think I would rather eat more of these than the ice cream cake Rachel got.

I also think I need to do the math on how much pulled pork I would have to buy before it would be cheaper to just get a smoker myself.

Christine

My parents (mostly my mom; my dad like his job at NJIT) have been talking about moving to Utah for a couple years. Rachel and I would really like our kids to spend some time near at least one set of their grandparents; I never really got to know mine before they died, and I'm a little jealous of all Rachel's childhood memories of hers.

"So, do you think Mom and Dad will move to Utah in the next five years?"

"I don't know. It could be like 'Well, we want to, once Christine finishes her degree.' 'But Mom, she's on her second doctorate!'"

Feeling a little loopy

I've been working on the Rosetta project at work non-stop for about ten days now. Non-stop means a couple hours off nightly for dinner and playing with the kids. The rest of the time is working on Rosetta. Last night we capped it off by working straight through until 7 AM to get things read for our 8:00 demo. I went home and had dinner as described in the previous post, then went back to work after Rachel's orchestra time.

Most of my career has been working on back-end systems so I'm going to take advantage of having a project I can take screenshots of and explain what I've been working on.

Rosetta, as you can guess from its name, translates the unintelligible. In the screen shot -- click on it for a larger view -- you see two panels. In the left there is a textarea labled "Raw view." This is an ancient COBOL system that we're dragging kicking and screaming into a more modern UI. On the right is the modern UI, translated by Rosetta. (Actually, that is the ugly "development" UI, for the demo we sexed it up with chrome designed by a professional. But that code is in another branch and only runs on Windows, and I'm not motivated enough to fire up a VM to take screenshots.)

Rosetta does its magic through a combination of sophisticated reasoning about the raw area, and manually added hints. The rest of the left pane in the screen shot is the "hint editor." To a first approximation, I wrote the hint editor and the layout engine; Gary wrote the low layer that turns the COBOL system's customized vt100 dialect into the raw area and makes the first stab at deciding what it represents.

For an example of the manual hinting -- you can see in the screenshot that there is a table labled Days/Times. The first column is MTWTFSS -- and so is the fourth. The second and third columns are also repeated. The COBOL system does this because it's the only way they can cram the information into 80 by 24 characters, but in a modern UI you'd never do that. So on the right you can see that instead of four rows and 6 columns, we cut it apart and put it back together into the logical 8 rows and 3 columns. This takes less time to add in the hint editor than it took you to read about it here. (I probably don't need to mention that I didn't bother making the hint editor pretty. The user of the system will never see it.)

Ten days and two developers is a very aggressive schedule for this. We had to handle wildly different screen layouts, break some into pop-up dialogs, and make it not look like ass, with just the existing text to go on. At the demo this morning, you could tell that our co-workers in New Jersey were impressed. (A couple of them don't have personalities that let them admit this easily. But it was there even for them.)

There's actually a bit of a back story here. There's a faction in the larger company that prefers to develop software by throwing masses of junior developers at it. There are positive aspects of doing this, especially from a management perspective, but there are also drawbacks. Rosetta was our first semi-autonomous project to sell them on the concept of small numbers of highly skilled developers could do.

We hit it out of the park.

Valentine's day surprise

We moved the Python user group to Wednesday to accomodate Valentine's Day. Rachel's orchestra was not so flexible. So I left work expecting to take the kids to Burger King (and work on the wifi -- more on that subject in a bit) while Rachel led the viola section as usual on Thursday.

I was still in the dark when I noticed that it smelled nice and there was a styrofoam box on the top of the oven, with garlic bread and barbecue sauce. "Oh, Goodwood leftovers! Nice."

Nobody ever accused guys of picking up on hints too quickly.

"No," Rachel explained, and opened the oven to show me the rows of Goodwood barbecue staying warm for dinner. And she even had not-from-concentrate lemonade. What a nice surprise. I had not tried the Goodwood prime rib before. (Do I need to write that it was fantastic? It was.)

What a thoughtful woman.

Just the Facts, Mom

We were running errands, and out of the blue Matthew pipes up from the back seat, "So tell me all about babies, Mom."

Me: Sure. What do you want to know?

Matthew: Everything.

Me: Do you have any questions in particular?

Matthew: No, just tell me everything.

First Major Dentist Visit

Okay, not the first visit for Melissa. There was that time when she was one year old and bumped her mouth on the wooden horse. She ended up losing a good chunk of her gum and we were worried about her tooth. (Did I write about this?) Anyways, everything was fine, and the gum grew back.

Melissa had a small defect on one of her teeth. The enamel didn't come in on one spot on her front tooth. It was first apparent around 6 months when her tooth erupted. We just kept and eye on it for the first 2 years and diligently kept it clean. After that we started taking her to the dentist for fluoride treatments every 3 months to prevent cavity growth. This was a two second procedure where the dentist put a dot of fluoride on the tooth. Melissa's pediatric dentist didn't want to sedate her to work on that tooth until she was a least 30 pounds. (Which was fine by me because the thought of heavy duty anesthesia on one so little made me very nervous!) Their office also had a policy of no restraining kids because they wanted children to have positive first impressions of the dentist. It worked, because Melissa absolutely loves going to the dentist. They make COOL balloon animals there!

In mid January she cooperated very well for the fluoride treatment, but was still only 28 pounds (fully dressed). I asked if they would be willing to try just nitrous oxide with her to see if it would work. The dentist said they would be willing to give it a shot, so we set up an appointment a month later.

On Monday I took her into the dentist. She was quite pleased to sit in the big chair. She got a pair of sunglasses to wear (they were pink!) and settled in to watch the The Little Mermaid on the ceiling. Dentists offices are so much cooler than when I was a kid! The dental assistant talked Melissa through every step of the way.

"Now I'm going to put on a funny nose that smells like oranges! See? Can you smell the oranges?" Melissa nodded.

"Next I'm going to put some water on your tooth. It kind of tickles! I'll put some on your hand first. Can you feel that? Then we use a little vacuum to suck up all the water!"

The dentist also described each step in simple terms as he did it. Melissa sat there cool as a clam with her mouth wide open. They praised her as they went along, and the whole thing only took about 7 minutes from drilling to filling.

Afterwards the dentist commented on how unusual it was for someone her age to cooperate so well. He was very impressed. I was quite pleased too. You never know with two year olds. Sometimes she is so pleasant and easy, and other times everything is NO NO NO! I was also very relieved to avoid the anesthesia route!

We have really been lucky with dentists with both of our kids.

First Sleepover

Matthew has been begging us to let Melissa "sleep over" in his room for some time. Sunday night we relented under two conditions.

1. We don't want to SEE small people.

2. We don't want to HEAR small people.

If they broke either of these two conditions, the slumber party would be over.

Matthew laid out the napping rolls, we tucked them in, and turned on the quiet "night time" music. I figured I would end up tucking them into their separate beds within 15 minutes.

10 minutes later it was very quite and I checked on them. There they were, side by side, and both peacefully sleeping. They looked like two fair-haired cherubs dreaming happy dreams.

Who'da thought?

First Haircut...

While I blissfully dozed this morning...

Jonathan decided that his hair needed a buzz. He clipped his hair and then left the kit out on the table while he ran for a quick the shower. Melissa decided that her hair needed a trim too, and availed herself of the scissors. Naturally she whacked off the front part because that is what she can see/reach best! Let's just say that she needs a few more lessons before graduating from beauty school. I shudder to think of her skills unleashed on the innocent, unsuspecting public!

Later, Jonathan brought the kids in for scriptures and prayer. "Notice anything about your daughter?" "AHHH! Her HAIR?! Matthew did YOU leave your scissors out?" Matthew denied any responsibility and Jonathan relayed the story. Melissa was happily climbing on top of me seemingly oblivious to her mother's shock.

"I don't think this can be fixed... Oh poor hair!" Jonathan apologized for his lapse in judgment, but what can you do? The deed was done. If she were a boy we could just buzz her head.

After I kissed Jonathan goodbye for work he said, "I guess this means twice as much chocolate for Valentines!" I gave a half-hearted laugh.

I called a neighbor, Kristin, who has a salon in her basement and described our morning's adventures. She had us come right over. Melissa liked sitting in the big salon chair with the fish-covered hair cape.

She kept up a running stream of commentary during the entire process:
"My hair is broken. You fix my hair?"

"I have pretty blue eyes."

"Look! A TV!"

"My hair is broken. Too bad!"

"I try that?" (some bottled hair products)

"I have curly hair. You fix my hair?"

"I play now?"

Kristin cut the top part of her hair so the demarcation between the shorn and unshorn portions wouldn't be so painfully obvious. Then she gave the rest of the hair a good trim. She was amazingly good on such a wiggly target. Two year olds do NOT sit still as a general rule. When I mentioned how impressed I was, she laughed and said this was nothing. She used to work at a kiddie hair cut place. Some kids would scream and thrash through the whole procedure.

Our neighbor said that on the bright side Melissa has curly hair that can kind of cover up the bare patch. Most people wouldn't even notice. On the down side I couldn't help but notice. No longer is she the girl with the curls on her forehead. Sigh. I'm sure that this is the first of many hairstyles and cuts Melissa will inflict on her head that I won't be thrilled with.

I'm thinking of getting some fat stretchy headbands with bows to cover things up a bit. But then again she'd probably just pull them off.

Later...

I wasn't expecting Jonathan home until late because he has a Python (it's a programming language) users meeting in Salt Lake that he heads. He usually goes from work straight there. Hence, I was very surprised when he walked in shortly after 5 with the largest bouquet of long-stemmed red roses that I have ever seen. They are absolutely huge! And stunning! He also gave me 2 lbs of dark chocolates. Wow! I asked if he was afraid I was mad at him. "Well, I figured that now I had 2 reasons to get flowers and chocolate." Sweet man! I wasn't mad, (FYI) but I'll sure take the flowers and chocolates!

So an interesting day. :)

That's MY kid!

Warning: this is a bragging parent post. :)


Matthew really likes his preschool teacher and even drew a picture of himself and his teacher to give to her.

I called her up today to see how she thought Matthew was doing with his speech and in class in general. We've had him in speech therapy for the last several months with a break in December. I think he's improved considerably. He's making sounds that he couldn't make at all before.

His teacher, Ms. Jan, said that he was doing very well and was easy to understand except when he got to speaking too quickly. When he slows down he enunciates clearly.

She then went on to say that she thinks he going to be a writer. He comes up with all kinds of stories and has a fantastic imagination. He also asks lots of questions and loves to soak up information. She also pointed out that his penmanship is coming along nicely and he does a beautiful job with his name. (They practice writing their names everyday and his writing is very clear.)

Ms. Jan says that they have been working on reading 3 and 4 letter words and that he another kid seem ready for easy readers, so she is going to have them work on those separately from the rest of the class starting next week.

Socially, she says he is doing great too. Matthew is a leader and independent thinker. He plays well with the other kids and is well liked, but also has his own ideas about things and expresses them. He accepts defeat well (!) and is quick to tell the other team "good job" when they beat his team. Ms. Jan told me that he stays on task and is just a very pleasant kid to have in her class.

Wow! Maybe we're doing something right. Or maybe we're just lucky.

Either way, that's MY boy!

I fought the law

Got in from Chicago at 2 AM on a flight that was supposed to be in at 11. They kept saying it was going to be on time until an hour before it should have left, then pushed it back an hour at a time. It could have been worse; the flight before was on time... until it was canceled.

So I was eager to get home.

I figured the cops wouldn't care if you speed a bit at 2:30 AM. I was wrong. I tore past one of those lame "stealth" cop cars, the ones that only have markings on the sides and no lights on top. He flipped on his lights and pulled me over.

I tried my dad's technique: tell the truth.

"Do you know what the speed limit is?" "65, sir." "Do you know how fast you were going?" "Over 80." [examines license] "Slow it down, okay?" "Yessir."

We're so glad when Daddy comes home...

Glad as we can be!

Melissa has been asking for her Daddy.....everyday.......many, many times a day!

Every time she hears a car pull onto our street she yells, "Daddy's home!"
In the morning she calls for Daddy to come get her. (Jonathan usually takes the kids in the morning. I got it soft, I know.)
She starts looking out the window for him when it gets dark.
During family prayer in the evening she asks for her "Daddy come home."

She is a real Daddy's girl.

Matthew has asked a few times, but he knows his Dad is coming home on Thursday.

Me, I really, really hoping he makes it back tomorrow morning. He's stuck in the Chicago airport. They're calling it the most snow since 1991. Great.

We all miss Daddy.

Little Imp!

It's 11 PM.

I hear an indignant, sleepy, "MOOoooM! She's in here! Melissa's in here!"

I go to Matthew's room to investigate. Matthew is sitting up in bed looking grumpy. There is a suspicious lump of bedding beside him. I pull back the covers and Melissa grins and giggles at me. I tuck Matthew back in. He's out before his head even hits the pillow. I cart Melissa back to her bed and tuck her in as well. She seems quite pleased with herself. What a good joke!

I'm such a travel moron

This is my third Hilton of the night.

I'm in Chicago on my second business trip. My boss said he was staying at the Hilton Magnificent Mile. Okay, no sweat. Google [hilton magnificent mile], book a room.

Only he was in "Hilton Garden Inn Chicago Downtown/Magnificent Mile." I got a room in "Hilton Suites Chicago/Magnificent Mile."

It was the top Google hit.

But it gets better. Our hotels are only 14 blocks away from each other, just under a mile. When I left Ben's hotel, I told a taxi driver to "take me to the other Hilton." "The one on Michigan?" he asked. "Yes," I told him. I remembered that the taxi from the airport last night had asked if it was the one on Michigan. I called Rachel and she said it wasn't on Michigan but it was about a block away. Close enough, I figured.

Not close enough. This was another Hilton, several miles away. This time I went to the front desk to figure out exactly which damn Hilton I was in. Armed with that knowledge I took another taxi to, finally, the right hotel.

Now I'm left wondering how on earth my taxi from last night got me to the right one on the first try. Maybe he uses Google.

Developing Empathy

Matthew came out of his room wailing about his popped balloon. I think he was tired, because his reaction was way out of proportion even for the drama king.

Melissa was happily playing with her balloon when Matthew came out. First she tried to give him a hug. When that didn't work she said, "Here Da'chew, here my balloon."

Reflecting on President Hinckley

I remember the first time I saw President Hinckley in person. Shortly after he was set apart as prophet, my family drove up for a regional conference in Washington. It was very exciting because we'd never lived in an area the prophet had visited before. I don't remember much of his talk, but I do remember his infectious optimism.

It wasn't until I was in college that I had opportunity to be in the same room with him again. Granted it was a large, packed stadium. Again I remember his sunny disposition. When you listened to him speak, you could tell that here was a good, kind man, and follower of Christ.

He always spoke of women with great respect and tenderness. Here is his tribute to his wife who preceded him:

"My brethren and sisters, at the outset, if you will bear with me, I wish to exercise a personal privilege. Six months ago, at the close of our conference, I stated that my beloved companion of 67 years was seriously ill. She passed away two days later. It was April 6, a significant day to all of us of this Church. I wish to thank publicly the dedicated doctors and wonderful nurses who attended her during her final illness.

My children and I were at her bedside as she slipped peacefully into eternity. As I held her hand and saw mortal life drain from her fingers, I confess I was overcome. Before I married her, she had been the girl of my dreams, to use the words of a song then popular. She was my dear companion for more than two-thirds of a century, my equal before the Lord, really my superior. And now in my old age, she has again become the girl of my dreams."

Later on he spoke of the creation up to Adam:

But the process was not complete.

"For Adam there was not found an help meet for him.

"And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof;

"And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.

"And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman" (Genesis 2:20–23).

And so Eve became God's final creation, the grand summation of all of the marvelous work that had gone before.

Notwithstanding this preeminence given the creation of woman, she has so frequently through the ages been relegated to a secondary position. She has been put down. She has been denigrated. She has been enslaved. She has been abused. And yet some few of the greatest characters of scripture have been women of integrity, accomplishment, and faith.

And this further in the talk:

There are some men who, in a spirit of arrogance, think they are superior to women. They do not seem to realize that they would not exist but for the mother who gave them birth. When they assert their superiority they demean her. It has been said, "Man can not degrade woman without himself falling into degradation; he can not elevate her without at the same time elevating himself" (Alexander Walker, in Elbert Hubbard's Scrap Book [1923], 204).

Taken from the 2004 Conference Address

Another talk that touched my heart was a talk given on forgiveness.

I think it [forgiveness] may be the greatest virtue on earth, and certainly the most needed. There is so much of meanness and abuse, of intolerance and hatred. There is so great a need for repentance and forgiveness. It is the great principle emphasized in all of scripture, both ancient and modern.

He relayed a story of a terrible crime, deep sorrow, and forgiveness. Truly beautiful.

But really the sum of his character is in what he did.

He gave us the Proclamation on the Family, a plan for smaller numerous temples to bring temples closer to the members, Preach My Gospel for the missionaries, he traveled extensively to visit and fellowship with members all over the world, the Perpetual Education Fund was set up to help those in third world countries, relief efforts were directed to disaster areas all around the world, and lastly he emphasized kindness to all people regardless of creed, race or sex, by his gentle example. I know there are many other things I have not listed that others will.

I would add that may he rest in peace, but I believe he is quite busy doing good in heaven, with his beloved wife at last.

President Gordan B. Hinckley 1910-2008

The Votes are In

Yesterday Jonathan asked Matthew and Melissa what they thought of a new brother or sister.

Matthew: I want a brother!!

Melissa: I wan' a sister!!

Pretty sure that we'll have one or the other. :)

Dreams
Jonathan has dreamed of a little girl. I have too, but my dreams are mostly weird so I usually discount them. Anyways in my dream I was having mild contractions (wouldn't that be great!) lying on my side, and mostly dozing alone on my bed. All of a sudden I feel a slippery baby body slide down my leg, and there she was, all 9 lbs 1 oz of her! At that point I called the midwife and Jonathan in the room. Such fun!

However...
I also still dream about being in college and forgetting to drop a class that I didn't want to take, and then finding out about it just before the major paper for the class is due and the final exam. I HATE those dreams. I always wake up in a panic. For the record this has never happened.

I dream too of being a double agent in Putin's Russia. I have infiltrated the mafia/government and have invaluable info for the US government. In these dreams I am on the run, trying to flee Russia with many narrow escapes. My heart is always pounding upon waking from these dreams/nightmares too. Have I ever been to Russia? No. I don't read thrillers, so where in heck do those dreams come from?

I have lots of other wild dreams too, but after relaying them to Jonathan in the morning I usually forget them.

So no, I don't put much stock in my crazy dreams.

Our kids are not introverts

I was talking with my friend Ben over lunch yesterday about extroversion. Ben is one of the most gregarious people I know, but he claims that he's not really an extrovert, because "If you put me in a cave for three weeks with my laptop and some books I would be fine. And productive. But a real extrovert, like my wife, would go insane without being around people." (Rachel agreed with this characterization of Jessica.) But he admits that he never feels the need to go recharge by himself after being around people too long.

Matthew is a full-fledged extrovert.

I got up early this morning (6:20) because I went to bed early last night with a headache. It was very pleasant, being alone in the dark and silence.

Then Matthew got up. He's been an incessant stream of chatter for half an hour. I've tried to deflect it with "uh huh" and "talk to Mommy when she gets up" but it is not working. I am being dragged out of my happy place.

Right now while I'm writing this:

"Do you like the songs? On Metroid? I like them. I like the songs on Metroid."

[10 second pause] "Can I have some lemonade? Can I pour myself some?"

[10 seconds] "Dad, sometimes when I slip, I put my hand down, and I don't get hurt."

[10 seconds] "When the fireplace is fixed, do you think we can turn it on?"

Melissa might be more in the middle. She enjoys chattering at us and her brother, but occasionally she will go "hide" behind the curtains in her room and play quietly by herself.

Things that make you go "hmm"

Top hit for Rachel's do-it-yourself Google search: "Help! I have a leaky bathtub faucet and a lazy husband!"

Yes. Yes, you do. Call a plumber.

Melissa after a "facts of life, 2 year old style" book: "You have baby in you tummy!"

No, Daddy's just fat.

I weighed myself. 190. Ouch.

(Although, for the record, she also claimed, "I have baby my tummy!")

Peanuts

• Bedtime is 8:00, or 7:30 if Mommy and Daddy are already tired. Melissa turns the light back on after being put down and plays until 10:00 or later. We are sort of okay with that (the exception is when she does not take a nap and is cranky all day); it appears that she just needs less sleep than Matthew. The funny part is that when she is ready to go to sleep she will turn off the light and get in bed. When Matthew stays up partying he goes until he drops, and we'll find him on the floor with the light still on.
• Today we got to church late and the sacrament was already being passed, so we waited in the foyer, periodically reminding the kids (well, Melissa) to be quiet. Melissa must have thought it was a really long, really boring prayer. She got off my lap and urged me to "You wake [get] up now!" Not yet, I told her. A minute later she got up again and declared "Amen! You wake up now!"
  

What happens in Utah when the president of the Church dies

President Hinkley died at 7:00. We were finishing the first round of a game of Mag Blast at the cousin dinner Rachel was hosting when one of Laura's friends texted her with the news. That killed the game of Mag Blast, and pretty much the whole phone system in Utah. It's 8:40 now and Rachel still can't get through to call her sister.

Our younger, hipper guests were all texting instead. Texting uses several orders of magnitude less bandwidth than voice so that was going through fine. Some people experienced this after 9/11, too; if you're ever in an infrastructure crisis and need something to get through, send a text even if you're an old fart.

(This is why US companies have a real racket going charging extra for texting privileges. In fact, I've heard that in the Philippines texting was free until the government started taxing it. The cost to the carrier of texts is so small that this is actually plausible, and it does appear to have at least some basis in fact; I found an article online referring to free texting in the 90s, but I can't find anything authoritative about what changed.)

A week of health

Until this week, Rachel's had about five days total of feeling good since the beginning of December. She's caught every cold that came through our area, badly. I joked that she was a human petri dish; she didn't find that very amusing.

This week Rachel got all better. What a relief. I didn't realize how draining it was until it was over. Daddy is much less grumpy now.

Peanuts

Melissa informed me that she wanted a robot, a dog robot, a pink dog robot. She explained that Matthew too would like a dog robot, only his should be blue. "For my birthday, I wanna pink dog robot!" Hmm. Not sure where to find one of those...

Wednesday morning Melissa woke up dry! We're hoping this repeats itself and someday turns into a trend.

Dancing with Daddy

(Rachel posted about this briefly but I thought it deserves multiple paragraphs. :)

Often in the evenings I will turn up some music while I do dishes. This is the kids' chance to harass Daddy to dance with them. I find it particularly hard to refuse Melissa's outstretched arms and "You dance me, Da'yy [Daddy]?"

The problem is, Melissa doesn't like craning her neck back with a partner twice as tall as she is. Nor does she like me to get down on my knees to be closer to her level. So last night when a laundry basket was left within reach, she turned it upside down and climbed on it to be tall enough to dance with me as an equal. She was tickled to death with her cleverness.

Of course then Matthew was jealous and had to have a turn on top of the basket. I have to admit that I like dancing with Melissa better. Moshing with Matthew tires me out!

This morning I resisted the invitations to dance at first. So Melissa went downstairs and brought up a two-foot-deep plastic toy bin and did the same thing with it. "You dance me, Da'yy?" I acceded.

Sometimes she really does get disappointed though. Once Melissa got her church dress on Sunday morning, she proclaimed, "I ready dance!" Alas, we were running late, and church was not for dancing.

Although come to think of it I don't know exactly what she did in nursery later. It's quite possible she convinced the teacher to dance.

I Want My Grandma!

I was tucking Melissa back into her bed tonight when she told me, "I want my Gran'ma." "We'll see her someday soon..." I murmured. "I want Gran'ma come to Mama's house, see Lissa!"

Yeah, I'd like that too.

Snow, snow, everywhere!

It dumped over a foot of snow here this morning. The kids were delighted, naturally. "It's snowing! Wow! It's snowing! Hooray!!!" They went out to "help" Daddy shovel, out again to play, and Melissa and I went on an evening trudge through the stuff (her idea- "I go on walk w' you?"). Traffic was really poor. The plows couldn't keep up with the snowfall, so Jonathan stayed home today. Good thing too, there were quite a few accidents, and at the point of the mountain (where we are) was especially bad. Lots of injuries, but no fatalities, thankfully.
http://www.sltrib.com/news/ci_8034091

We finally saw a plow in our neighborhood around 6 PM. The improvement was rather marginal, though. Now we have 4-5 inches of packed snow & ice on the road.

The kids think all the snow is absolutely wonderful. I remember when I was a kid and loved the stuff too. I lived in Iowa then, and there was always plenty of snow in the winter. Oh what fun my sister and I had making caves, licking icicles, building snow creatures, and pulling each other in the sled! My Mom would have to make me come inside to warm up and dry out my mittens and clothes.

I guess I've just gotten old. It's a lot colder than I remember as a kid. Snow isn't nearly so fun anymore...

A new record

Matthew was "cleaning his room" all day Saturday, Sunday, and today, with breaks for meals, church, etc. He is still not done.

From the Peanut Gallery

Melissa's latest line whenever she gets a minor injury is to announce in plaintive tones, "I need to go see the doctor." or "I need to go to the hospital." She says this in such a mournful way, while sadly shaking her head. Injuries such as stubbed toes, little scratches, and bumped heads all require professional medical attention according to Melissa. Fortunately she will accept a kiss and a bandage instead. I'm guessing that this notion comes from the time Matthew gashed his toe open and needed stitches. She hasn't needed to see a doctor since the unfortunate Plant Incident (in July). Silly girl!

Matthew's Sunday school class still does not have a permanent teacher, so they have had a series of substitutes. Yesterday he told me that his eighteen year-old teacher was a grownup kid. "How so?" I asked. "Well, she's big like a grownup, but she doesn't have kids yet, so she's a grownup kid!"

A few weeks ago we visited some friends of ours for dinner. Melissa declared, "I want eggs! I want eggs!" over and over. What? We were scratching our heads until Jonathan figured out that she must have remembered that they went egg hunting there at Easter time. That was 8 months ago! What a memory that kid has!

The Peanut holds forth on the cinema

Matthew: "Dad, kids don't like boring movies."

Me: "Sure. Adults don't like boring movies either."

Matthew: "Yes they do!"

[Dad and Mom laugh. Fortunately Matthew is not offended, deciding only to enlighten us.]

"Adults like movies where they just talk. Kids don't like that. Kids just like kids movies. Little girl movies, and big boy movies."

A Girl and Her Pig

Yesterday we went to the dentist. Melissa insisted on taking her beloved pig, Oink, along with her. In the excitement of picking out a treasure from the treasure chest, she forgot Oink. She didn't notice Oink missing until after the office had closed. Since she sleeps with her pig every night, bedtime was rather traumatic.

Today we went to pick up Oink FIRST thing. Melissa is a happy girl again.

Birds and the Bees

Matthew has just started asking about babies (quite a few of his friends have new baby siblings) and how babies get inside Mommies. We're not sure how much detail he's looking for, and since he's asked at inconvenient times such as right before sacrament meeting, we've managed to dodge the question. Daddy, chicken that he is, told Matthew to ask his Mother since supposedly I'm the expert. Ha! So it looks like we need to sit down with him and give him some basics.

In searching for a simple book to aid us, I ran across a German one that we probably won't be using....

http://www.planetdan.net/pics/babies/2.htm


The illustrations crack me up (especially the hearts on the car and the lego facial expressions), but it might be a bit much for Matthew.

Oink

IMGP0037
Originally uploaded by jbellis

Andrea gave Melissa a piggy bank when she came out a couple weeks ago.

Melissa LOVES that piggy bank. It makes a chime when you drop coins in, so every morning she begs two pennies from me and puts them in and takes them out, over and over. (Every night, she loses her pennies in her bedding doing this in the dark.)

Melissa named her piggy Oink. "Where my Oink?" "There my Oink!"

Winning is all that matters

Rachel and I have tried to encourage Matthew to take losses with equnimity, with some success. But I don't think he really buys the "trying your best is what matters" thing.

Case in point: he's been winning a lot at Bomberman the last couple days. I knew something besides increased skill was involved; he's not that good. This morning I watched him play and he proudly showed me his secret:

Play 3 on 1.

He creates a team game with him and two computers vs one computer. Heh.

Ego surfing

I'm pleased to notice that I have retaken the #1 google hit for [Jonathan Ellis]. Some poser calling himself "Jonathan Ellis, spiritual director" managed to knock me off briefly when he bought the jonathanellis.org domain. Order has been restored.

True Love

Love is not chocolate and flowers (though those are nice).

Love is going to the store at 10 at night to purchase embarrassing personal products for your beloved. Without even being asked!

Thank you, Sweet Husband, for the Tucks pads.

Happy bottom!

Daddy is an introvert

Rachel took the kids while I napped from 10-12. (I feel very lucky indeed that Matthew cleaned his room during this time.) I had the kids the rest of the day, before and after.

When I have the kids all day or nearly so, I'm usually feeling pretty frayed by the end. I feel like yelling, "Stop talking at me! Stop! I need some quiet!" Sometimes I do yell that. It doesn't make much difference either way. The stream of chatter will die down briefly; then, "Daddy, I need tell you someping." Or they will start fighting with each other which is almost as bad.

Today was a day that included a nap, so really it was a pretty easy day. And I still got to that point. Fortunately we were in the car on the way home when the last of my reserves left me, so I turned on some rock music. Sometimes that works; they seem to abhor silence, but if I fill the void with other, less demanding noise, they'll accept that. Sometimes.

On the one hand I feel like a terrible dad when I unravel like this. I've been thinking about that, trying to figure out how I get to that state. My patience is very binary -- either I'm fine or I'm completely out.

The more I think about it, the more I think it's because the kids simply don't give you time to just be by yourself. I realized years ago that I need time alone to recover from being "on" socially, and being "on" as Daddy takes a similar toll. As Jonathan Rauch explained,

Extroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. They often seem bored by themselves, in both senses of the expression. Leave an extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating.

(If this sounds bizarre to you, you are an extrovert and you should read his whole article.)

Rachel is an introvert too. This is one reason Rachel is usually very glad to turn the kids over to me when I get home. She feels this relentless assault on her patience, too, although perhaps she is not quite as introverted as I. Or maybe she has just had more practice dealing with incessant five- and two-year old demands. Or most likely of all she is just a nicer person than I, which is one reason I married her.

This makes me think. I haven't read much about the just leave me alone for a minute feeling in parenting material. Is this something nobody wants to admit? Or do they all just have extraordinarily undemanding children? Or are they all extroverts and easily take it in stride?

Maybe I just haven't read the right books.

In the meantime, I think it helps to realize conciously why I sometimes suddenly feel so irrationally impatient with the kids. But reason only takes me so far -- it's like if you're hungry, knowing why you're hungry maybe be comforting at some level ("because I skipped lunch to get that fix in before the next build"), but that doesn't actually make you any less physically hungry, dammit.

I think I'll try taking regular "leave me alone" breaks for ten minutes or so, even when I still have patience reserves left.

Time to make the pancakes

Melissa was up at 4:30, probably because she was hungry. She wasn't interested in lunch or dinner yesterday. I told her to go back to sleep.

She was still up at 5:00, so I let her out ("I tum [come] out now") up and heated up some leftover pancakes, which she devoured. ("Pantakes!") Then I put her back to bed. (5:20.)

The light came on and I heard playing noises. Then the noises stopped. (6:00) Twenty minutes later I dared go in and transfer her to her bed. Then back to bed myself.

Mr. Mom reads the walkthrough

Rachel is on vacation full-time again today.

I took the kids to wal-mart in the morning, stocking up on milk and staples. This is not unusual; I probably make about 60% of the wal-mart runs anyway. (But I get only about 40% of the groceries, since Rachel's trips are more productive. I take my time, spending ten minutes in the toy isle, five minutes watching the goldfish, ...)

Lunch was at Arctic Circle where we had corn dogs, a food Rachel does not approve of. But she wasn't there, so the kids enjoyed their dogs. That and a couple of Arctic Circle kids cones got us all the way to my favorite time of day, nap time. Melissa was drooping in her seat on the way home so I knew she would fall asleep when I bounced her on my knees, and she did. Unfortunately, Matthew never did fall asleep.

But then Rachel and Andrea got home. Andrea wanted to play more Escape from Monkey Island, so she and Rachel hung out until Melissa got up. In honor of family home evening we went up to Salt Lake to see the lights on Temple Square. Matthew complained that he wanted to go home whenever he remembered how miserable he was, playing his game boy. I told him that we weren't going to let him hold us hostage this time with bad behavior and he eventually resigned himself to his fate.

We saw the lights, sat through one and nine-tenths of a song in the Assembly Hall, and had hot chocolate and dessert at the Joseph Smith Building.

Then we came home and put the kids to bed. Andrea is playing Monkey Island again. If we hadn't gotten her a wedding present two years ago I would suggest getting her a ps2. Rachel never lets me get anyone a ps2 but everyone else is getting the happy couple china and bedding and boring stuff. I think they'd appreciate something fun.

Andrea is going home tomorrow. Mr. Mom is off duty.

Mr. Mom takes a break

Sunday was a family day. I cooked pancakes for breakfast; Andrea got the kids ready for church, and Rachel made split pea soup for dinner. Other than that everyone pretty much took it easy. I finished All Corvettes are Red. Then I spent a few minutes pricing vettes on AutoTrader and EbayMotors, but I was just window shopping.

Matthew got Andrea to play some video games with him, probably the first time in her life she's held a playstation controller. After Matthew picked a couple games like Soul Calibur 2, Rachel intervened and set up Escape from Monkey Island.

Women love LucasArts adventure games. (I wonder if that genre might still be around if they'd figured out how to market it to that demographic.) I introduced Rachel to computer games through Grim Fandango, and Monkey Island had the same effect on Andrea. She was still playing when I went to bed at 11. She was still playing when Rachel went to bed at 12.

Mr. Mom goes to the bouncy place

We survived Sky High (the real name of Some Dude's Playground -- Rachel says she remembers it under the old name, but I don't). As soon as he woke up, Matthew complained that he was starving. So as soon as we got there I ordered the pizza. (So much for cooking dinner later.) The kids ate about five bites total and went back to playing despite my warnings that it would get cold. (It did, but the kids didn't care.)

Finished The Paypal Wars. I'm going to give a copy to all my "government regulation is the answer to all our problems" friends.

Bounced with the kids enough to be sore. Bouncing just works a lot better when you have a five year old's moment of inertia.

Now it's time for some quality time with Duck Tales, courtesy of the library earlier. Then bedtime.

Mr. Mom

Rachel is on vacation.

Rachel hasn't had a real vacation since Matthew was born. I'm convinced that when you're full time Mom it's not a real vacation if the kids are with you. So I've been trying to get Rachel to take a vacation for a while now. I had one myself with my brother Grant a few years ago -- we drove up to San Fransisco for the World Cyber Games. (This year the WCG was in Seattle, and for a while it looked like I was going to be able to combine a family trip with some hardcore nerd action but it didn't work out. Yes, I'm a geek.)

Rachel never did find a good vacation time that would work for her and one of her friends. It's true that a shared vacation is more fun than a vacation alone.

But now Rachel's sister is getting married in January. I suggested that Rachel fly up and spend some time with her, see Seattle, maybe Victoria, or even fly somewhere else entirely with Andrea. Sort of a last hurrah before Andrea's life gets more complicated too. Fortunately, Andrea had some rare time off from work so it looked like it might happen. But for one reason and another they decided it made more sense for Andrea to fly here instead, leaving me with the assignment of keeping the kids out of the way during their vacation.

My job started after work yesterday. Evenings with the kids are my specialty, thanks to Rachel's orchestra practice, so this was cake. We went to the library, which was closed (6:00 on Saturday -- doh), and headed for Arctic Circle. On the way, Matthew claimed to see a "new slide," i.e., fast food with play area. I humored him because hey, killing time was the name of the game. And it turned out that he was right -- Del Taco had a small play area that I never noticed. It's not going to see much time on my Slide Rotation calendar, though; the kids enjoyed playing, but didn't eat any of the food. Even the quesadilla. They scarf Rachel's quesadillas.

Today we paid a visit to Uncle Ellis, followed by a trip to the library (open, this time), and lunch at Carl's Jr. Matthew likes Carl's Jr because he can refill his glass at the fountains All By Himself. Right now the kids are napping; this afternoon we will visit The Bouncy Place (Google thinks its real name is Some Dude's Playground. I think Google is smoking something) and hopefully that will get us close to dinner time. If Rachel and Andrea are back from The Nutcracker, I'll take them out to eat, otherwise Daddy's cooking dinner.

Kid play areas are a little on the boring side for dads. But thanks to my Christmas wish list I'm well supplied with reading material. Last night was All Corvettes are Red. (The title comes from a quote by a GM manager, which concludes "The rest are mistakes.") Today I started The Paypal Wars. Paypal turns out to be one of the most interesting books on entrepreneurship I've read in a while. Corvettes is less interesting to anyone who isn't already a fan of the titular car. Unless you have a sick fascination with dysfunctional bureaucracies; there's lots of that involved, too.

Getting Old...

At the beauty counter in the mall, a sales lady was helping my choose a foundation. She suggested the "age defying- wrinkle minimizing" formula. "Hey!" I squawked, "I'm in my 20s!" "Oh. Well, how about this?" Later on as she was applying the foundation she remarked that I had a remarkably "mature" face for 20. "Well, I'm in my 20s, though actually closer to 30." She replied a bit flustered, "You still have a mature face for your age."

"Mature" is code word for OLD. Gee thanks!

To think that just 5 years ago I was mistaken for a teen mom! Which reminds me of another great story...

He Didn't Make a Sale
When 8 months pregnant with Matthew (and I get very great with child), a door to door salesman rang the bell. I answered the door, and before I could I could say a word, he asked if my MOTHER was home and could he speak to her, or the head of the household!!!!

After I got over my shock, I laughed. He was duly informed that he was looking at the lady of the house, and no, we were NOT interested in his wares.

Strep Throat Part ll

It's Baaacck! I think I shared my germ with Jonathan, who in turn reciprocated. Tis the season for sharing, right? Good times! Oh yeah! We'll be popping pills on Christmas. Meanwhile, I'm going to wash all the doorknobs (again), throw out the toothbrushes (again), and wash all the sheets and blankets (again). This time we'll both be on antibiotics so hopefully we'll banish it for good.

As long as the children don't get it too....

Christmas terrorists

We had our "neighbor gifts" all taken care of. Eight families on our street, eight gifts, finished. Rachel put them together and Matthew and I delivered them. (Matthew was pleased with this little bit of exclusivity -- "This was a job for just two people, huh Dad?")

All done.

Or so we thought. Today someone not on our street dropped off a gift for us. How inconsiderate! Now we have to reciprocate; that's Just How It's Done. Argh!

As long as we have to make more gifts now, maybe we should drop some off at random peoples' houses while we're at it. Just to mess with them.

Poor Jonathan!

Jonathan is really sick.

He's got chills, sore throat, and an earache. His throat is coated white. The strep test came back negative, but the doc gave him a prescription of antibiotics in the event it gets worse and the test was just a false negative.

I think we should quarantine ourselves until April...

Praying with two year olds

Melissa wants to participate in family prayers now.  Mostly this means occasionally she will consent to repeat a prayer as prompted by Mommy or Daddy.

Tonight I was prompting.

"Heavenly Father,"

"Healy Fader,"

"We thank thee for our family."

"Thank you family."

"Bless Daddy to get better."  (Daddy has a nasty cold.)

"Bless Daddy det beyer."

"Bless the kids to be good."

Melissa unfolded her arms and looked back at me indignantly.  "I am!"

The difference between men and women, continued

The local classical station was describing Romeo and Juliet yesterday.  I wasn't really interested until they said something about a "bedroom scene."  That got my attention.  I grinned at Rachel: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes," said Rachel.  "I need to look up my grandparents' address."

--

Along the same lines, Rachel says she can tell when I am really sick when I lose interest in sex.  I can tell when Rachel is really sick when she loses interested in cleaning.

--

Friday I wore a white T-shirt to work.  I don't have very many white shirts because they show stains much better than black ones.  Between myself and my kids a white shirt's half-life is about a week.

Friday Rachel gave me spaghetti leftovers to take for lunch.

You can see where this is going, can't you?  Yes, I got some sauce on my shirt.  But resourcefully I scrubbed it out with hand soap!  Super-husband saves the shirt!

I was rather pleased with myself.  When I got home I told Rachel, "you can't even see where I spilled the sauce!"  She looked a little closer and pointed, "There."  She was right.  I was a little crestfallen.

"That's okay," she comforted me.  "I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything.  And I'm sure any man wouldn't notice at all."

Tic tacs

Matthew's favorite thing to buy is tic tacs.

Rachel was a little outraged at the single box surcharge, so she got a four-pack and sold them to Matthew individually for the cheaper bulk cost.  It's about $3 for the four-pack, over 30% off the price if you bought them singly.

I applaud the frugality that prompted this, but I had slightly mixed feelings about it at first.  Mostly because as soon as he gets his allowance he spends most of it on another box of tic tacs.  He bought all of Rachel's initial four-pack and another that I picked up.  That's six weeks of allowance at a dollar a week.  (Currently we are out of tic tacs, and he is out of savings.  Call it a draw.)

The more I think about it, though, the less I'm worried that we're teaching him to go for instant gratification instead of saving.  Mostly because I remember back to when I was five.

Back then I got fifty cents a week as allowance.  I remember because it took me two weeks to save enough to buy a seventy-five cent soda at a convenience store a few blocks from our house.  (I'm pretty vague on the actual distance.  To a five year old it was a long ways but it was almost certainly under a mile.)  I did this with a significant portion of my allowance; the only other purchase I remember from that time period was a pair of vice grips.  I don't remember whether that pre- or post-dated the discovery of the orange sodas.

Here's the thing, though.  I didn't even particularly like the soda.  But I kept buying it!  Crazy!

This illustrates a couple relevant points, and one irrelevant (?) one:

1. To a five year old, two weeks is forever.  There was no point in saving longer than that because a five year old is just completely unable to focus on events past that time horizon.  A soda was the best option available for less than a dollar, so that's what I bought.
2. The main reason I kept buying the soda was I was in charge.  My mom took the attitude that if I bought it with my own money I could do with it as I would.  Sugar was otherwise controlled with an iron fist but that soda was mine.
3. I've always been absolutely terrified of new situations.  To the point where I couldn't function sometimes, when I was younger.  (Another story: in fourth grade, thanks to my dad's tutoring, I was put in the "accelerated" program with sixth graders, studying 8th grade math.  The teacher told my father that for the first couple days I was so flustered I couldn't have counted my toes.)  Even though I knew I didn't really like the orange flavor I still got that instead of trying a different one.
4. Eventually, I did save up for the vice grips.  Probably when I was a little older.

For Matthew I hope point 3 is not a factor.  But I definitely see #2 playing a part; he loves being In Charge of his tic tacs.  (He's very generous sharing them with his sister and friends, too.  I think this is why tic tacs are so attractive: there are a lot of them in a box.  Certainly more than twenty, which is as high as he can reliably count.)  And I think #1 does as well.  And when his time horizon lengthens enough, he'll find something he likes more than tic tacs and save up for it.

Jingle Bells

Right now I am in my room. Melissa is on the potty taking care of business. She's also serenading all who care to listen to her version of Jingle Bells. Where she doesn't know the words she substitutes "la la la all the way." Not only that, but she's in tune and she's pretty good! I didn't even know that she knew Jingle Bells! I wonder where she picked it up?

No Thank YOU!

Saturday is the day we clean rooms in the Ellis household. The rest of the week the kids can live in their natural messy habitat, but on Saturday, the Health and Sanitation Department, chaired by Mom and Dad, insist on seeing the floors in the rooms. Plus our kids would run out of clean clothes if we didn't make them fork the dirty clothes over from all of the places they've squirreled them away.

Melissa is now old enough to start picking some toys up and putting clothes in the right drawers. The past few months we've been sitting in the room to supervise and direct the process. Cleaning her room is not her favorite thing do, but most of the time she goes along with it. Yesterday there was mutiny in the ranks.

"NO! I NOT clean room. I NOT!"

"NO Thank You! No thank YOU!"
(waves her hands, and then crosses her arms)

"Oh yes you are going to clean you room! Let's go!"

"No thank you! No, no, NO!"

"Yes you are!"
(Daddy picks her up and hauls her to her room)

She protests all the way there, but once in her room seems amendable to the idea of picking up. 'Course whenever Daddy left the room for something, she high tailed it out of there too. Guess she was trying to see how serious we were!

Letter from Matthew to Uncle Chris

Dear Uncle Chris,

I have my own tic tacs. Orange kind that are sweet and they are my favorite. The bomb game is fun (it's a game on the DreamCast)

Today is my mommy's birthday. Me and Daddy gave my mom presents. When I turned five I got my own suit. It fits perfectly.

(Yesterday) Santa Claus said when he picked my up to sit on his lap, "oh, you're getting to be a big boy!" Then I got a candy cane. (At the breakfast with Santa) I had brown muffins with chocolate chips and hot chocolate.

When I playing out in the snow, Mama moved the shovel and it got in my eye. It was bleeding, and I cried a lot. I had to go to the doctor to make sure my eye was ok. It was, and that's all. (We had an unfortunate incident last week. I was shoveling snow and ice, Matthew moved right as I was flinging a load of ice with the shovel. It got him in the side of the face, but just missed his eye. He's doing fine now.)

Are you feeling better Uncle Chris?

Love,
Matthew

I'm So Glad That He's My Dad!

I have been fighting off a severe head cold this week and have not been getting much better. Last night my Dad called me and asked about my symptoms. I described them, and he had me look down my throat. Couldn't get a good view of things, but I did notice that my tongue was coated white. Thinking that was odd, I mentioned that, and my Dad asked me to check my lymph nodes to see if they were swollen. Check. He thought it sounded like strep to him so he called in a prescription for me. I wasn't so sure, because in addition to the very raw throat, I'd been having so many cold symptoms- very bad congestion, coughing, sneezing, headaches, etc., which are not ordinarily associated with strep. So I went to the AfterHours InstaCare to settle the matter. They did a 5 minute strep test which came back positive.

I have a pretty smart Dad.

If he hadn't called, I likely would have waited it out a few more days...

So I just started the antibiotics several hours ago. Driving back from the clinic and pharmacy was a bit of a trick. In addition to it being dark out, it started snowing pretty hard and the plows hadn't cleared the roads yet. It had rained earlier and there was a slick layer of ice under the snow. The defrost in the car wasn't working well, the wipers gave out, and so visibility was virtually nil. I pulled over in a parking lot for 15 minutes and scraped the car a few times and wiped the inside windshield. It got marginally better, but I still needed to drive with the windows down in order to see. I prayed I would make it back safely without incident, and I am happy to report that I did.

Right now I am up at 3 AM because I CANNOT get warm and my throat feels like someone sandpapered it and then stuffed my mouth full of cotton. Swallowing is well nigh impossible. I am hoping the antibiotics start working soon... Die strep die!

Loosely related to speech class...

While Matthew works with his speech teacher I keep Melissa busy with books and toys. Recently, she found a fisher price doll house and was just enthralled. She started making up little scenarios and stories about the baby, mommy, daddy, brother, and dog. She put the baby in the stroller and mommy took baby for a walk. Then baby had to go potty in the toilet, then daddy put the baby down for a nap. "Shush! baby sleeping. Now baby up, morn'n time! Baby play with dog. Ruff!" She is going to looove her Christmas gift! I bought it months ago when on sale and have had it hidden ever since. A picture is worth a thousand words so here is what the doll house looks like.

I am so excited to watch her open it Christmas morning! I'm debating whether I should paint or stain it... Hmmm, I'll have to think about that.


Matthew's speech teacher lives way out in Herriman in the middle of nowhere. Last week Jonathan took the kids to speech class because I felt lousy. Driving on the way back he was going around 50 mph in a 35 zone. It's a country road with a few ranches on it and not much else, so he felt confident going fast. Well, as he rounded the bend he saw a cop waiting. He braked to slow down, and the cop motioned slow down. Jonathan waved a "yes sir!" and that was that.

He related the story to me when he got back. "And there was this cop in the middle of nowhere, just around the bend!" I mentioned that I've seen a police car there more often than not, but didn't think to say anything.

He looked at me.

"Um, clearly I wasn't thinking was I?"

We both laughed.

I Two!

An earlier conversation with Melissa:

Melissa, "Mama, you sick?"

Me, still recuperating from a fierce head cold, "Yes, I'm sick."

Melissa excitedly, "Matthew is five, I two!"

(I guess at least she acknowledges that she is two now! For a while she insisted that she was five as well, just like Matthew.)


Melissa is also showing more of her mischievous side. The other day she and Matthew were sitting on the couch. Actually Matthew was more sprawled head down over the arm of the couch, when Melissa got this gleam in her eye. Before I could react, she grabbed his foot and shoved him over-board. Matthew only fell about a foot, but though unhurt, he was sure indignant! Meanwhile Melissa laughed and laughed at him. Matthew bristled, "It's not funny Melissa!" Actually, considering all he's put her through, it kind of was funny. She's his match alright.

Melissa Milestones

I got Melissa a Hamburger kids meal at Burger King today. (Rachel is sick so Daddy is taking care of the kids while trying to get some work done.) She ate it without making a mess. If you've ever seen a kid try to eat a hamburger ("hammer," she calls it) before they are coordinated enough to hold the two halves together and eat at the same time, you know what I mean.

She also made the sounds of the alarm system sticker at BK, which read ADT. "Ah d d d tuh!" she read. Matthew has been watching phonetics videos and Melissa has apparently been following along.

The chamber pot

About a month ago, Rachel started Melissa on a potty training program again.  We've spared you the details, but Melissa is mostly potty trained at this point.  She still has the occasional accident but it's been at least a week since the accident involved poop.

She usually poops once in the daytime then saves the rest for after she has her bedtime diaper on, and lets it rip during her bebopping around after being "put to bed."  (So there are usually two bedtime diapers.)

She hates it when the poop is caked on her bottom and I have to scrape it off, and I always tell her, "If you pooped in the potty instead, we wouldn't have to do this."

Tonight she decided to give that a try.  Rachel went in to re-tuck her in, prepared to change her diaper, and instead found Melissa sleeping naked on her bed, her sleeper in one corner of the room, and her doll's potty full of poop.  (Yes, her doll has a potty.  For educational purposes, you know.)

She actually did a really good job of aiming, considering the doll potty is only about 3 inches by 5.

Matthew plays a trick

Matthew is playing outside in the snow.  I have come inside from shoveling.

Ding-dong!  I answer the door.  It's Matthew.

"Daddy, the mail is here.  Can you get it?"

"Is it snow in the mailbox?"  I saw him stuffing snow in with his friends before I came in.

"No.  It's mail.  Can you get it?  I can't with my gloves on."

"Son, is it really mail, or just snow?"

"It's snow."  He grins at his cleverness.  "I play a trick on you, Daddy."

Bomb Game

It's been over a year since we've had my Dreamcast connected, but somehow Matthew remembered Bomberman Online aka "Bomb Game."  He's been asking to play it for a while now, but we really don't have room in our entertainment center anymore, which is currently home to a PS3, Xbox, Wii, and VCR.

Rachel's cousin just moved (temporarily) to Florida and offered to loan us a TV while they were gone.  "Perfect for the Dreamcast!" I thought.  So now it is hooked up downstairs and Matthew is delighted to play Bomb Game again.

I like that old Dreamcast (launched 9/9/99).  PS1 graphics were just too primitive for me, so the Dreamcast was my introduction to modern gaming.

I might have to go play Shenmue again now.

Holiday nostalgia

I'm not normally a very sentimental person.  Perhaps this comes from having poor long-term memory; my earliest memories date only to about 5 years of age, and those are pretty fuzzy.  This seems on the high end comopared to other people I know.  Nor do I remember a lot of the details from only a few years ago that Rachel does.  I've mentioned before that when Rachel asked me if we had any holiday traditions growing up, I have no idea.

But I discovered one source of nostalgia today.  Practicing Christmas songs with the ward choir, I kept thinking back to when I was a teenager singing in my ward choir.  Then, I sang bass; now, I usually sing tenor.  I'll sing which ever the choir is short on, because I can neither hit the really low notes nor the really high notes.  My only virtue is carrying a tune.

Mom anchored the soprano section then; she's a pretty serious amateur vocalist.  Besides the choir, we'd sing as a family and go caroling.  Twice that I remember, we sang a quartet at the neighborhood Christmas party -- Mom, Grant, Telitha, and me.  Christine was young then, and the other boys were less musically inclined.  Then I left on my mission and when I came back my parents moved.

Singing today, I remembered all that.  I missed it.  And I missed Mom.

Mmm, pie

Rachel cooked nine pies (and an apple crisp) and invited all her cousins over for Thanksgiving dessert.  With all her cousins, spouses, aunts, and uncles, we could have had 30+ people.

But only seven showed up, so even after they took some home, we had a lot of pie left.  (We had dessert scheduled for 5, after a 2:00 dinner at Rachel's aunt.  But her aunt's turkey was very late and we didn't eat until after 5.  Fortunately our guests were flexible.)

We had our neighbors Walt and Marilee over yesterday, with their kids, and we still had a lot of pie left.

Finally we had the  Casslers over, and now we only have a little pie left over.

All told, I had four pieces of banana creme as well as some pumpkin, pecan, raspberry creme, blueberry, and chocolate mousse.  But only a little of the chocolate!

I think I'm done eating dessert for a while.

Another difference between men and women

At lunch with the guys Friday, Gary mentioned that he caught hell from his wife that morning for his attire.  "You're not going out like that, are you?"  Gary checked.  "My shirt looks fine, Dear."  "Not your shirt -- your pants!  You can't wear corduroy with sneakers!"

This was news to all the other guys at the lunch, too.  We sympathized with Gary, and finished our burgers.

When I told this story to Rachel, she laughed.  "Well," she said, "his wife did have a point."

Advant Garde Artist

Matthew loves exploring new artistic mediums. He's used duct tape, sticks, vegetables, cardboard, masking tape, paper tubes, rubber bands, newspapers, wood scraps, ink and more to express his art.

Recently he took an empty milk jug, uncapped all his markers, and put them into the jug. Then he put his hand on top of the jug and shook it for all he was worth. The markers dotted the inside of the carton in a riot of colors. Voila! Art!

He was immensely pleased with his creation.

Daddies are so different from Mommies

A few days after Halloween, Melissa and I were walking through the neighborhood when we heard loud whooping and hollering. As we came closer, we saw two young boys gleefully dancing on the roof, while smashed pumpkin guts splattered the pavement. Our neighbor was climbing a ladder to the roof with another pumpkin in his hand to hand off to his boys. He was thoroughly enjoying himself too and was egging the kids on. (Not that they needed much encouragement.) They were having a grand time! Melissa and I sat in the grass to watch the pumpkin carnage, well out of the way of flying debris and rolling gourds. I noticed that the boys' mother wasn't home to witness all the fun...

I have a great husband!

Jonathan usually gets up with the kids in the morning and feeds them breakfast so I can sleep a little longer. Melissa now calls out for "DAAAAD DEEEEE!" first thing in the morning.

Heaven is burrowing deeper in the bed covers on a cold morning.

Grownups

While at the park a few days ago Matthew ran up to me clearly steamed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Matthew replied with unmasked disgust in his voice, "Those kids boss me around. They keep telling me what to do like a grownup does!"

The joys of homeownership

After a month of trying to get some guys out to stain our deck, Jonathan bit the bullet and broke out the circular sander yesterday. We got most of the sanding and cleaning of the deck done, but then Melissa woke up. She didn't nap very long, so Jonathan entertained her for a bit while I started staining. Matthew was supposed to be cleaning his room during this time.

I informed our son that I was now staining. Matthew really likes to "help" in any project with mess potential, so he quickly finished cleaning his room so he could offer his services. Not wanting to discourage any budding work ethic, I gave him a cloth so he could "help". I did insist that he wear old clothes though. Matthew's idea of staining is to saturate the cloth with as much stain as possible and then drip it on random parts of the deck. He stayed out to help me for about an hour before he got bored. I asked him a few times if he'd rather do something else, but he was adamant. "Painting the deck is a lot of work! You need help! I will help you!" I couldn't turn him away. Instead I mopped up excess stain when I could, and thanked him for his efforts. Definitely not a professional job, but it'll protect the wood at least.

When Matthew decided to go inside, Jonathan popped a movie in for the kids to watch while he and I finished the deck. He asked me a about staining a part of the deck and I said, "Up to you dear, I leave it to your good judgment. After all, I know you have good judgment, because you married me!" He grumbled something, the last bit I caught, "and I could have had a condo!" Grumble, grumble.

So we got about 80% of the deck done yesterday. We didn't have time to finish the stairs before it got dark. Today it rained of course. I'm crossing my fingers that we don't have to redo the &%!* thing again this year!

Fartiquette

I was at Home Depot Saturday with Matthew looking for wood scraps for him to nail together.  (What can I say, I am cheap.)

As occasionally happens, I passed wind.  Matthew noticed.

"Something stinky," he said.  "Is that you?"

"Matthew," I admonished him, "That's not a polite question."

When I told Rachel later, she laughed.  "You can't blame him," she said.  "It usually is."

(Rachel also says the title of this post is uncouth, but she cannot or will not suggest a better one.  Just so you know who to blame.)

You missed a great dinner

We had my friend Kevin and his wife Celia over for dinner tonight.  I made beef caldereta and it turned out as good as any I have ever had.  My caldereta is a bit hit or miss as I experiment, ever since the chef at The Boondocks told me his secret was "maraming keso" (lots of cheese).  The nice thing about caldereta is, the ingredients are so good that even if it's a bit off it's still edible.  And when everything comes together just right, like it did tonight, the results are fantastic.  

Here is tonight's recipe, more or less.  You can google recipes with lots more ingredients but I prefer to strip things down to the essentials because I don't see the point in spending added prep time on things that don't really affect the result.

As with any dish you make over and over I didn't actually measure any of these.  But I think I'm pretty close.

2 lbs beef, cubed
1 medium onion or half a big one, chopped
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp chopped garlic
5 small purple carrots from Rachel's garden, or about 3 boring normal orange carrots
2 8 oz cans of tomato sauce
2 cups grated cheese (that is, post-grating it was about 2 cups)
3 bay leaves 

Throw everything in a wok and cook until the beef is done.  Serve with rice.  Feeds four adults.  Feeds no kids; they would rather have a PBJ.

Notes:

• I suggest adding the cheese just at the end.  It seemed to make a difference tonight.
• Bell peppers and peas are acceptable carrot substitutes for caldereta.
• All the "authentic" calderetas I have had included potatoes.  But since potatoes are nutritionally and tastefully almost the same as rice I omit them in keeping with my no-wasted-effort cooking philosophy.  Just eat more rice with it and it works out.
  

Sportsmanship, peanut style

Rachel found the Wii Sports disc. Good thing I didn't buy another from Nintendo for $20. (Ouch!)

Matthew likes Tennis but despite my efforts to demonstrate has not figured out volleying. It's not that he swings and misses; the Wii makes that almost impossible. He just won't swing at all at the net. Since the computer is very, very consistent at returning baseline shots this means that he loses to all but the most inept computer opponents. (It scales its skill level as you get better. But Matthew hasn't been getting better.) Matthew often loses his temper as well as the game when this happens.

Fortunately for his wii privileges, he came up with a solution: he plays all four positions! The rallies aren't very long but he is immensely pleased because he wins every time.

I'd rather he learn that losing a game isn't a big deal and losing to a computer is an even smaller deal but I guess I'll take what I can get in the meantime.

Spelling

Matthew was playing with the stick-on-the-wall bathtub letters last night.  He'd throw random letters up and ask what they spell.  I explained that the written word represents the spoken word, not the other way around, or in five year old terms, pick a word and spell it.

He didn't really get it so I told him to spell "cat."  What sounds are in "cat?"  He sounded it out, and put up C A T.  Great!  Next he replaced the C with an S to spell "sat."  Then he must have gotten tired with spelling, because he put up VAT next.  "What does that spell?" he asked.

I didn't want to make this a vocabulary lesson.  I wanted to reinforce my point about picking a word and spelling it.  So I asked him to sound it out and see if it made a word.  "Vvvv... aaaa... t.  Vat."  "See, it's not a word," I told him.

"Yes it is, Daddy.  Mommy says, 'Pick up vat!'"

His speech therapist still has some work to do.

Things that remind me of my dad

Every time I have to tell one of the kids, "I just told your [brother/sister] to stop doing that! Why did you start?!" I think of my father. My father who seemed to ask that question with the same tone of puzzled frustration that I hear in my own voice now. Dad used to seem so clueless at such times.

Poor Dad.

My own earliest memories are from when I was five. Three memories in particular. Having Matthew turn that age makes me think of my dad, too.

When I was five I remember measuring my height against my father. I came up to his belt buckle. I was halfway to being as big as Dad. A huge milestone.

When I was five I got a big yellow steam shovel for my birthday. I am not so old that they were really "steam shovels," but I had read a book in which such earth-moving machines were indeed steam powered and in my five year old mind so they remained. (I don't think this was the famous Mike Mulligan story, but it may have been.) This was the coolest present ever.

When I was five I saved up my allowance -- fifty cents a week? twenty-five? I'm not sure -- to buy a half-sized pair of vice grips. I didn't really have a use for them, per se, but I did know that vice grips were one of my father's most-frequently used tools and therefore having my own made me more grown up by association. (Which reminds me of a modern update to the old adage about vice grips: "Perl is like vice grips. You can do anything with it, and it's the wrong tool for every job.") [Rachel comments, "You're so nerdy." And then kisses me so I guess she approves.]

That's one thing I wish I did more of, is projects with Matthew like my dad used to do with me. I'm relucant to admit this in public, though, because Rachel is full of good ideas for home improvement, and it's really more of a fuzzy "wouldn't it be cool" wish than an actual desire. ["Darn it," she says.]

Rachel adds: "Matthew thinks all the tools belong to me, and Mommy is the one who fixes things."

Just doing my part for modern gender attitudes, Dear.

What Matthew is thankful for

• Robots
• Transformers
• Emma

Daddy did not make the cut.

Don't get me wrong; I like Ellis. It's a fine last name. If common.

"Have you updated your wish list for the holidays?"  Tonight Rachel did.  Then she checked out my wish list for good measure.  "21 Jonathan Ellises!" she exclaimed.  "What a common name!"

Rachel has a thing about common names.  She still hasn't quite forgiven me for changing her name from what was probably the only Rachel Sinden in the country.  (But on the other hand she doesn't like it when parents make up new names for their kids, either.  It's really hard to win this game.)

I pointed out that, really, Ellis isn't that bad.  "Try John Brown," I suggested.  Rachel was skeptical that there could be anything much worse than Jonathan Ellis.

There were 368 John Browns.

Princess

While waiting in the grocery store line we saw a burly and bearded man dressed in an emerald robe and wearing a crown. Melissa was delighted. "Princess!" she squealed with delight pointing. "Princesses! Princess!" The woman behind us hooted with laughter while the kingly man tried to maintain his dignity and made a point of ignoring us (guess he didn't have much of a sense of humor). I apologized to the man and tried to correct her, but Melissa would not be dissuaded.

I bet that is the first time the man had ever been called a "princess." Oh well, the woman behind us remarked that that was the funniest thing she had heard all day. At least we made somebody's day!

Matthewisms

We were driving in the car and Matthew piped up, "Grandma gets lost." "Oh? Grandma gets lost?" I queried. "Yeah. Grandma gets lost if I don't hold her hand, so I hold her hand."

"When I grow up I will come back and visit you and give you a hug and kiss. I will leave my kids with a babysitter to come visit you," Matthew explained. "Well, I think Grandma likes seeing you, her grandson, and I bet I'll like seeing your kids too, just like Grandma likes to see you." He thought a moment and then brightened, "Oh! You're right! I'll bring them too!"

"I was a cute baby, wasn't I?"

"I just tricking you!" One of Matthew's favorite explanations for his mischief.

"I am big, but 6 and 7 year olds are really really big!"

I a Pretty Dirl!

A conversation between Melissa and Jonathan:

M: I a Pretty Dirl!

J (somewhat taken aback): Yes, you are a pretty girl.

M: Dada, you a pretty dirl!

J: No, I am a handsome man. You are a girl; I am a man.

M: Datthew a man?

J: No, Matthew is a boy. Matthew will grow up to be a man.

M: Datthew drow up man?

J: Yes.

M: Mama a pretty dirl?

J: Mama is a pretty woman. You will grow up to be a woman too.

M: I drow up woman?

J: Yes.

This was a little beyond Melissa.

M: I a pretty dirl!

J: Yes. Good night.

A letter to Uncle Chris

Dear Uncle Chris,

Hi.

I broke my toenail. I went to the doctor to fix it. He cut it off part of the toenail and put a band-aid on it. I got shots in my toe. I walked slowly with the blue band aid on it. It's feeling better.

It needs a 2. "Why?" It just does. 222222

I had fun with Mason. (Mason is Matthew's friend)

I went to church happy. And what did I learn about Dada? I don't remember what I learned about. (Jonathan was teaching his class today).

My pet is sick, my penguin pet. (a stuffed animal)

We hanged the pinata at my birthday party. We broke it. With a bat, by whacking it. Ate cake. And opened my presents.

I got sick on Wednesday. "You weren't sick on Wednesday." A long time ago on a Wednesday I was.

Love,

Matthew

Classic Peanuts

Our neighbor came over to our in a panic and wanted to use the phone. Apparently her one year-old baby had locked her out of the house and her two older children were still sleeping inside and couldn't wake up open the door for her. I gave her the cell phone to call her husband. Meanwhile their baby was crying on the opposite side of the door, while she tried to calm him. Thankfully her husband was only 5 minutes away at this point. This brought to mind a similar unfortunate occurrence...

When Matthew was about 17 months old I took him on a very memorable shopping trip. I'd forgotten to bring a toy and he was getting restless. I gave him my keys which entertained him enormously. We finished shopping, I loaded the groceries into the car, and put my purse in as well. I then buckled him into the car seat and closed the car door. I'd parked right beside the cart return so I pushed the cart in and reached for the driver side door.

CLICK!

Oh crud!!!

Matthew had found the lock button on the key chain. I tried to coax him into push the unlock button to no avail. In a panic I ran back into the store and grabbed a clerk with a phone (my cell phone was conveniently locked along with my AAA card, d'oh!). We called the police and waited and waited. I think Jonathan was teaching a class at the time which is why I couldn't reach him... Thankfully it was early March and pretty cold outside so Matthew was in no danger of overheating. The store employee even brought some blankets out to cover the glare from the sun and help keep things cool. I played peek-a-boo with him for about 15 minutes. He was amused at first but became distressed when I didn't open the door and join him. He then started a full baby wail. It tore at my heart. Poor fellow! I wanted nothing more than to come to him. I got to the point of requesting a brick to bash open a window, but decided to wait a few more minutes.

Thankfully the locksmith arrived shortly thereafter (maybe 30+ minutes total wait time?). Matthew was getting frantic as was I- but I didn't want to show it for fear of freaking him out even more. The locksmith did his work quickly and then informed me that they don't charge in instances where a kid gets locked in, but they strongly suggest a $50 donation. I wonder if the man know that at that moment he could have named his price. I'd have written a check for any denomination. Matthew snuggled up next to me saying "Mamamama" Then I had to put him back into that dreaded car seat in order to get home. He was not thrilled, but I bribed him with some candy.

He took a very good nap that day.

Peanuts

• The kids watched Star Wars with Jonathan on Thursday night (orchestra night). Matthew is a huge Star Wars fan after playing Lego Star Wars over and over... Every time the movie cut to a new scene he'd excitedly exclaim, "They made it to the next level!

• Matthew's speech therapy is going well. He can now say "k" sounds and intermittently "f's" instead of "s". He proudly announces to strangers on the street and store clerks that he is now "five" instead of "ssive". Melissa also insists that she too is five.
  

• Last night we took the kids out for ice cream. On the way to the ice cream parlor Matthew piped up, "I want blue ice cream!" Not to be left out, Melissa chimed in, "I want red ice cream!" This went back and forth for a while, the kids happily shouting out their favorite colors, when Matthew slipped and said he wanted red ice cream. Melissa corrected him, "No Dachew, you like blue one!" At the store Melissa changed her mind and said she preferred the pink kind. Good thing too, because there was no red ice cream to be had.
  

• We can't leave anything out on the counters or on top of the refrigerator any more. Mostly we are pretty good about keeping it clear of tempting and/or dangerous things, but every once in a while we slip. One morning Jonathan caught Melissa on top of the counter happily helping herself to potato chips. "Mmmm, chips! Licious! Mmmm!" (Daddy is a bit of a softy, and gave her some chips at the table before putting the rest away in the pantry.)

Tattletale

Matthew tattles on Melissa.  (Melissa got into the cookies!)  Melissa tattles on Matthew. (Matthew's playing with markers!)

I hate tattling.  But Melissa made me laugh when she was mad at Matthew but didn't have anything to pin on him at the moment.  "Mom!" she tried, "Matthew did something."

A cheap table

My grandmother once said that, as far as furniture was concerned, "Ethan Allen is the cheap stuff."

If that is the case, we just ordered another cheap table.  We checked R C Willey and Granite first (my grandmother would have been horrified) and could not find anything that was not laminate -- the kind that you can scratch with your fingernail, for the most part -- or weird, like one that was all stainless steel.  Or just shoddy construction, like the one that was perfect except that it wobbled if you breathed on it wrong.  That would have lasted Matthew about a month.

We also checked a place called Campo that imports solid wood furniture from Mexico.  But Rachel didn't like any of the styles they had.

So at Ethan Alen we got what was I believe the cheapest table in the store.  The saleslady called it "virtually indestructible," and I think she might be right.  (She kept going on and on about how high-quality EA furniture was, blah blah blah, so I told her about my grandmother to shut her up.  It worked.)

The price on the table itself was actually quite reasonable.  Then they really nail you on the chairs.  (You wouldn't want chairs that don't match, would you?)  All told it was almost $3000, or 10x what I paid for our current cheap table and chairs (a glass-topped iron model that is really patio furniture) 8 years ago.

Darn inflation.

Gunsmoke

Matthew's favorite birthday present was a late one: Uncle Ellis gave him and me Nerf dart guns.  There was much shooting and laughter in the basement last night.  (I am a better shot than Matthew, but our hit rates were about the same because I am a much bigger target.)

It's a good thing Ellis gave us some extra darts too.

Darts lost by Matthew not paying attention when he fired somewhere in the kitchen: 1
Darts chewed up by Melissa: 2

(I thought she was done with the "let's chew up random stuff for no particular reason" phase.  Good grief!)

Those glow sticks sure smell bad when you chew them open

Grandma Ellis sent the kids some glow sticks for Matthew's birthday and the run-up to Halloween.  We gave them one each to start with; then Melissa bent the rest of hers, starting the glow reaction, so I gave those to her too.   She preferred them bent into bracelets.

Some time after putting the kids to bed we heard a disturbance from Melissa's room.  Rachel wearily asked me to investigate.  I poked me head in the door and Melissa told me "Ow, tongue!"  I smelled something funny.  She'd been chewing on one of the glow sticks and sure enough one was broken open and she had glowing yellow liquid on her.  I got her a drink of water (I tried to get her to just rinse and spit but she drank it) while Rachel called poison control.

Turns out it is caustic, as Melissa found out, but not really dangerous in small amounts.

In some ways Melissa is an easier child than her brother.  But we have never had to call poison control for Matthew.  This is twice for Melissa.  (The first time, which I don't think I blogged, was when she ate a handful of Tums.  Which is funny, because Rachel would rather endure heartburn than eat those.)

It's 10:30 PM

I know where my children are.

In particular my son is in his room, making various not-sleepy noises.

Uh-oh, the water is running. Now he has incurred the wrath of Mommy.

I predict a cranky boy tomorrow.

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...