Merry Christmas!

I'm sure you've seen this before, but it never stops being funny!

Spontaneous Reading

Exhibit A

At home. Chelsea is examining the ornaments and presents.

Chelsea: "Mommy! This one says Heidi and Jeremy!" (points to ornament that says Heidi and Jeremy)

Me: (skeptically) "Which word says Heidi?"

Chelsea: "This one." (Points to "Heidi.")

Me: (still not convinced) "Which word says Jeremy?"

Chelsea: "THIS one." (Points to "Jeremy.")

Me: (thinking that was too easy, she must've heard me say the names when we hung the ornament and she knows which name is which because of the order they are in) "Hmm. You're right."

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Exhibit B

At Target, in the Customer Service line. Girls are in the cart. Store employee walks up and talks to Chelsea.

Store Employee: (to Chelsea) "Hi there!"

Chelsea: (hides face and grins) "Thomas!"

Me: (turns to explain to the man that she is obsessed with Thomas and says "Thomas" even when it is not an appropriate response, but then sees that the man's name tag reads "Tom") "Chelsea, did you see the man's name tag?"

Chelsea: (keeps head down, says nothing)

Me: (distracted by Customer Service lady)

Me: (to the man) "She loves Thomas trains, so she randomly says Thomas all the time."

Man: "No, while you were talking to Customer Service she said 'Tom' to me. Twice."

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Exhibit C

Driving to playgroup. Chelsea is staring out the window. We pass the sign that says "Now entering Ipswich."

Chelsea: "Mommy? Are we in Ipwich now?"

Me: "Did you just read the sign?"

Chelsea: "Ep." (That is Chelsea-speak for "Yep.")

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I knew that she would eventually do this. That she would be one of those kids who would just up and start reading one day, before any kind of instruction. She is sitting on her bed right now with a mountain of library books. Within minutes of any family member coming to visit she has them reading to her. Even when she was potty-training, the bribe we used to get her to sit on the potty was reading books.

Even though I knew it would happen, I didn't expect it to happen so soon. I thought maybe, maybe at some point when she's three. Oprah famously describes how she started reading at three, why not Chelsea? But I thought it would be more like days before her fourth birthday. Not days after her third.

I don't write this to boast. Although I'm insanely proud of her, I'm hoping this doesn't come across turning this mommyblog into a mommybrag. Mostly I just want a record of what's happening with her. So that if it turns out that she really is starting to read, I'll have proof. That way, when she has her own kids and I tell her that she started reading at three and she inevitably doesn't believe me, I can say, "It's on my blog."

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Of course with every triumph comes a challenge.

At Chelsea's 3 year check-up with her pediatrician, the doctor could barely understand her speech. She still struggles with Ls, Ys, and certain letter combos. The doc recommended a speech evaluation and since she's three we can get one through the local public schools.

I called them and they want her to come in for a preschool screening. Which is wonderful because the schools have an awesome, inexpensive preschool program which services a mix of regular education and special education students.

Ironically, my precocious little reader might qualify for this preschool as a special ed student because of her speech.

I'm glad she'll be getting help (if they determine she needs it). But I'll be sad to hear those little Chelsea-isms go.

"Is this 'ticker 'till 'ticky?"
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Ghetto Thomas Cake Tutorial

I may have mentioned once or twice before that Chelsea is obsessed with Thomas. She decided months ago that she would only receive Thomas presents for her birthday. Whenever the suggestion came up that she might get something else, she'd say, "Wellll, maybe for Kissmas, but for my birfday I'm only gettin' Thomas peasants."

Like any totally insane mother, I decided to make her a Thomas cake. Sure, I could have made one like this. Or even like this. But no.

Because I stumbled upon THIS.

What follows is my very lame, very low-budget, very UNskilled Ghetto Thomas Cake tutorial.

Step 1: Bake a cake in a 9x13 pan. Use a cake mix because a 3-year-old will not notice if the cake is made from scratch or not. (If you live in an apartment where the oven sits on a slant, be prepared for the back of the cake to be a full inch taller than the front of the cake. Trim as needed.) Wrap in Saran and freeze.

Step 2: Cut the cake into quarters. Stack three of the quarters to form your Thomas. Save the remaining quarter for snacking building. Be sure you have a little model on hand for reference.

Step 3: Frost the layers together. Use a sharp knife to shave and cut the cake until it vaguely resembles the model. Jab a stick through it when it already starts to tip over.

Step 4: Give it a crumb coat. Use store-bought frosting because, again, the kid won't care and you don't have the patience to make homemade crusting buttercream. (Please be smarter than me. This cake is going to be mostly blue, so don't give it a white crumb coat. Make your life easier. The crumb coat should be blue.) Stick it in the fridge and hope it stays together.

Step 5: Make the face out of store-bought fondant (40% off one item at Michael's!) and black icing. Poke a stick in that, too. Set aside.

Step 6: Mix up your colors. (Another tip: Buy some red. It is impossible to make red by adding color to white. It just gets hotter and hotter pink.) (Also, I don't know why the picture is sideways or how to undo that. Halp?)

Step 7: Cover Thomas in blue frosting and then decorate with the other colors. Poke the popsicle face on there afterwards. Take a thousand pictures. Feel smug. Refrigerate cake until needed.

Step 8: At the appointed hour, add track and candles. Take some more pictures before he's demolished!

Step 9: Present Thomas cake to your beloved child and hope that you get a smile like this:

Step 10: Prepare for cannibalism.

Step 11: Have baby wipes, paper towels, napkins, and a hot bath ready to battle the (blue! and black!!!) frosting-covered face and fingers.

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Christmas at Fenway

Dear Heidi,

Congratulations! You are invited to attend the sixth annual Christmas at Fenway this Saturday, December 13! This invitation-only event will provide those in attendance with a guaranteed opportunity to be amongst the first suckers Red Sox fans to spend an obscene amount of money on purchase 2009 select Sox game tickets.

You will also have the chance to have your child confused by photographed with Wally the Green Monster!

Your child will also be terrified delighted by Santa and Mrs. Claus!

Arrive early for your chance to be photographed with the 2004 and 2007 World Series Trophies! (Note to parents: although we may advise you to seat your baby between the trophies, you should not construe this as permission for your baby to touch the pretty, gold, shiny flags.)

As a guest of the Red Sox, you are invited to arrive at Gate D on Yawkey Way at the ass-crack of dawn 8am on December 13. The ticket sales will begin at 10am and we will make every effort to ensure that you stand in as many different lines as possible for as long as possible are able to purchase your tickets promptly.

Once you receive your tickets, please hand them to your child to pose with while praying she doesn't mangle or drop them keep them in a safe location.

Congratulations again and GO SOX!
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DJ Y-T

Jeremy just finished teaching Invertebrate Zoology for the fall semester. When his students told him that one of their other instructors had rapped briefly in class, Jeremy was inspired to create the following masterpiece.



Yet another piece of evidence that I chose wisely.
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Diagnosis

About a year ago, I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers about her struggle with Hashimoto's thyroiditis. In the post, she included a link to a checklist of symptoms. I clicked through and found myself saying "Yes, yes, yes..." to many of the questions on the list.

I was convinced, for a few days at least, that I had some sort of thyroid issue.

But. I am easily persuaded. And, one of the symptoms? "Memory problems or having trouble thinking clearly." -from WebMD

Yesterday morning I had some blood drawn as part of my "annual" physical. Got a cryptic call from my doctor today, saying they had the results and that I should call the office.

Turns out...I have hypothyroidism. Duh!

The symptoms are pretty vague, so I can excuse myself for being unsure of my self-diagnosis. Here are a few of the joys of hypothyroidism:

1. Feeling tired, weak, or depressed.
2. Dry skin and brittle nails.
3. Not being able to stand the cold.
4. Memory problems or having trouble thinking clearly.
5. Heavy or irregular periods.

I suffer from most of these but I chalked each of them up to something else. Numbers 1 and 4? Well, that's just run-of-the-mill motherhood, isn't it?

Number 2? I thought I inherited those dry knuckles from my dad.

Number 3? It's freaking December. In New England. Isn't everyone cold?

Number 5? I'm still nursing which makes everything wacky.

You see?

But now I've got some prescription thyroid hormone waiting for me at CVS. Once it kicks in, I look forward to being alert, strong, happy, smart, warm, and THIN! (The doc also mentioned that my weight issues might also be attributed to low thyroid.)

So... yay?
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9,237,388... and One?

I don't know how I've managed to miss this one before, since over 9 million people have seen it and it's been out there for a couple of years. But it's new to me and thoroughly entertaining so here, I present to you 12 Days of A Cappella.



Thanks to WERS and their All A Cappella radio show for introducing me to this.
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Tell the Boston Globe, Too

The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine included an article this past weekend called, "The $66.95 Family Feast." Sounds like a great idea for these troubled, troublesome times.

The author starts out with some bright ideas: shop at a local store known for good food and great prices, use ingredients in more than one dish when possible, and assume certain pantry staples.

I'm thinking: Hey! I already shop at that store! I don't mind using stuff more than once! And I have pantry staples!!!

Then I read through the rest of the directions....

"Set the pork on a cutting board, pat dry with paper towels, tie into a uniform shape with kitchen twine..."

Hmm. I'd have to get some kitchen twine. Not a big deal. Reading on...

"In a large, ovenproof Dutch oven set over medium-high heat..."

Wait. I don't have a Dutch oven. Not even a small, non-ovenproof one.

"In the bowl of a food processor, pulse 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons flour, confectioners' sugar, and a large pinch of salt to combine."

Dammit! I don't have a food processor either!

"Remove the top piece of plastic wrap and use the bottom piece to help gently drape the dough over the top of a 10- or 11-inch tart pan (with a removable bottom). "

A TART PAN?!! With a removable bottom? Who do they think I am, Martha Stewart? If I were, I wouldn't be reading an article about how to save money on a family feast!

(Ok. Calm down. Deep breaths.)

Let's say I still want to make this feast, despite my utter lack of kitchen equipment. How much might that cost?

According to my bff Amazon, it would cost just about eighty bucks to acquire all the stuff necessary to pull off this meal.

Oh, hah! That's more than the meal itself. (Kinda defeats the purpose, yes?)

Here's some more hilarity from the recipe:

"Tip: Save on sugar. You need only 1½ tablespoons, so if you don't have any in the pantry, use four of the packets stashed in your office desk to sweeten coffee."

Gee, thanks! Oh, wait. I don't have a desk. Or a job. Or money to spend at Starbucks where I might pick up a few extra packets of sugar.

And one final quote:

"Tip: Save $1.40 on soy sauce. Use three of the free packets you stashed from your last order of Chinese takeout."

Takeout? Who can afford takeout? (And if you can, how come you can't afford soy sauce?)

And really, you're urging me to save money on sugar and soy sauce while simultaneously suggesting I use $80 worth of equipment that I don't have? Wha-huh?

In the author's defense, the recipes really do sound delicious.

But I guess "The $146.95 Family Feast" just didn't have the same ring to it.
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Many thanks to Snarky Amber at MamaPop for this post on a similar topic which inspired me to write the above.
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Ghetto Muddy Buddies

Or "How to Make Muddy Buddies When You Do Not Have Chocolate Chips in the House and You Do Not Intend to Wait Until You Can Buy Some"

You may be familiar with Chex Muddy Buddies. My friend Cynthia calls them "White Trash." Which is probably a more appropriate (if also potentially more offensive) name because they are white and frankly, they're a bit of a mess. But they are also DELICIOUS.

So what do you do when you need some Muddy Buddies, like, RIGHT NOW, and there are no chocolate chips in your cupboard? You Google "substitute for chocolate chips" and find out that you can use cocoa, sugar, and shortening in their place.

So here's my new and totally not improved half-recipe for chipless Muddy Buddies:

Melt in microwave:
half a stick of butter
1/4 cup peanut butter

Stir in:
3T cocoa
3(heaping)T sugar
some vanilla

Pour mixture over 4-5 cups of Rice Chex in a big bowl and toss.

Dump a bunch of powdered sugar on it. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, hold on tight, and shake it like a Polaroid pictcha. (Yeah, not only do I not keep chocolate chips in the house, I also don't keep gallon size plastic bags.)

Voila! Deliciousness.

You're welcome.
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Christmas Walk Weekend

Our town has an annual event called the Christmas Walk, which is basically an elaborate ploy to lure shoppers into town. Over the course of a weekend, there are sales and raffles at the various shops and events like horse-drawn carriage rides, face painting for the kids, and holiday carolers.

And, since this is New England and coastal New England at that, Santa arrives by lobsterboat to greet the throngs of children.

We decided to skip that mob scene, and instead enjoyed the tiniest Christmas parade in the history of Christmas parades. It is actually perfect for very little kids, like ours, who have no attention spans to speak of and freeze easily outdoors after too long.

Behold, the highlights:


Now my favorite part of the Christmas Walk is filling up on all the free snacks that the shops have put out. And since we live in a ritzy, yacht-club kind of town, these aren't your usual chips and dips type snacks. Oh, no.

There were huge platters of cheese and crackers, complete with grapes and little deli slices. Plates of chocolate truffles, chocolate-dipped cookies, and stamped gourmet chocolates. Dishes of cashews, platters of brownies, cake stands covered with coconut-topped cupcakes. And lest your mouth get dry from all the delicious goodness, there was apple cider, cranberry cider, and mini water bottles. And did I mention the wine? Red wine, white wine, Prosecco, Champagne... I was actually sad that I don't like wine because there was just SO much free wine to be had! Such a waste!

And my favorite store (which under normal circumstances gives away enough free samples as to constitute lunch) had outdone themselves. They had invited a bunch of their local vendors to give away samples. So in addition to their usual spread, there was pie, ice cream, cookies, and my absolute favorite candy, Sweet Sloops.

All in all, it was a fine, fattening start to this holiday season.

**And if you read the Bee Girl story but did not yet see that it has been updated with a picture (!!!) then get back there right now and check it out already!
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9 Months(ish)

Dear Savannah,

You learned to clap today. You do it kinda slow, with the tops of your fingers still a little bit curled over, but you are definitely clapping.

You love to stand up, all the time, as much as possible. When I try to sit you down, you keep your whole body stiff to stay standing. You can walk along a couch or table but you don't take any steps all on your own yet. When Daddy stands you up to walk to me, you just fall forward into my arms with a big grin.

Your sister cracks you up. You stare at her in the car, pop up and down in your crib when she runs in to see you after a nap, and laugh out loud when she tickles you. She used to call you Savoner or Savander. Now it's Percy or Molly. She says you are a silly engine.

You don't enjoy the baby food. You don't enjoy being fed much of anything, you want to do it yourself. You still don't have any teeth. (Although, that hasn't stopped you from biting me with your gums while I'm nursing you. Not cool, Savannah, not cool.)

You like to babble. Mostly mamamamama. Which I tell myself (and your dad) is actually Mama. Sometimes you say babababa and then crack up when I repeat it back to you.

When I carry you in the sling, you always lean forward and stare at the ground. I don't know what is so fascinating down there, my shoes?

You are, like your sister, not a great sleeper (yet). You cry at naps and in the night and although I tell myself I will be tough and let you cry, I almost never am and almost never do.

You are all cheeks. And big, bright blue eyes. And chubby, chubby rolls.

And when you are sleepy, I hold you over my shoulder and rock back and forth, singing Twinkle, Twinkle. And you put your little head down and sigh.

Love,
mamamamama