Chelsea and I have a nightly bedtime ritual. After bath, jammies, and stories, I always sing her the Turtle Song. It goes like this:
I had a little turtle
His name was Tiny Tim
He went into the bathtub
To see if he could swim
He drank up all the water
He ate up all the soap
He went to see the doctor
With a bubble in his throat.
I first sang it to her a long time ago, back when she was still sleeping in her crib, back when I was searching for something, anything, to keep her from crying when she went down for a nap or for bedtime. One day, I sang this song, and she didn't cry. And just like that, it became our routine.
As she got older, she wanted to take over singing the song entirely by herself ("I do it myseff!") but her versions were so long and rambling and I never knew when they were over, so instead we made a compromise: I sing it, but she sings the last word of each line.
Lately, however, she's turned the song into a MadLibs-like exercise in ridiculousness. Here's how it usually goes:
I had a little THOMAS!
His name was THOMAS WHOMAS!
He went into the PERCY!
To see if he could PERCY!
He drank up all the PERCY!
He ate up all the PERCY!
He went to see the PERCY!
With a PERCY IN HIS EDWARD!
Sometimes I ask her if she wants to hear a different song. My mom is able to put her to bed with an out-of-season rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and my husband manages to put her to bed with no songs at all. But with me, it's always the Turtle Song. Or, I guess I should say, the Thomas Song. Although, isn't every song at my house the Thomas song these days?
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This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as an entry for a contest sponsored by Bush’s Beans.
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Saturday, October 4, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Sarah Palin Drinking Game
1. Every time she says "ya" (as in, "I hear ya!"), take a drink.
2. Every time she drops a "g" (as in, "I'm talkin' to the people!"), take a drink.
3. Every time she says "nuke-u-lar" instead of nuclear, take a drink.
4. Every time she overtly dodges a question, take a drink.
5. Every time she gives a rambling, incoherent answer more reminiscent of shoddy high school debate than of executive-level politics, take a drink.
Bonus Round: If she gets elected, hie thee hence to your local packie with your last few dollars, 'cause you're gonna need A LOT of liquor.
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2. Every time she drops a "g" (as in, "I'm talkin' to the people!"), take a drink.
3. Every time she says "nuke-u-lar" instead of nuclear, take a drink.
4. Every time she overtly dodges a question, take a drink.
5. Every time she gives a rambling, incoherent answer more reminiscent of shoddy high school debate than of executive-level politics, take a drink.
Bonus Round: If she gets elected, hie thee hence to your local packie with your last few dollars, 'cause you're gonna need A LOT of liquor.
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Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Change Night: The Verdict
Apparently, Monday night is NOT a hot choice for a night out. (What? You didn't know? Me, neither!)
After leaving our children in the care of 5 or so overwhelmed YMCA ladies, we joyously strolled to our local Indian restaurant to see this sign on the door: Closed Mondays.
Jeremy suggested Thai, so we walked the few blocks to the local Thai place, and... dark interior, empty tables. We turned around before we got close enough to read the Closed sign.
What the?
We finally ended up at a little local New Englandy place that was just fine. (Frankly, we were so happy to be alone and carry on an uninterrupted conversation we probably could've been sitting in a Dumpster and been pleased about it.)
On the way back we passed a nice Italian place, CLOSED, and our favorite coffee house, CLOSED.
Jeez! I know we live in the 'burbs, but c'mon! You can't be bothered to be open in the evening on a weeknight???
Ok, I guess after a busy weekend the restaurant workers need a night off, too. Go ahead and take Monday. Maybe those YMCA ladies can give me a different night of the week to work with next time.
---
After leaving our children in the care of 5 or so overwhelmed YMCA ladies, we joyously strolled to our local Indian restaurant to see this sign on the door: Closed Mondays.
Jeremy suggested Thai, so we walked the few blocks to the local Thai place, and... dark interior, empty tables. We turned around before we got close enough to read the Closed sign.
What the?
We finally ended up at a little local New Englandy place that was just fine. (Frankly, we were so happy to be alone and carry on an uninterrupted conversation we probably could've been sitting in a Dumpster and been pleased about it.)
On the way back we passed a nice Italian place, CLOSED, and our favorite coffee house, CLOSED.
Jeez! I know we live in the 'burbs, but c'mon! You can't be bothered to be open in the evening on a weeknight???
Ok, I guess after a busy weekend the restaurant workers need a night off, too. Go ahead and take Monday. Maybe those YMCA ladies can give me a different night of the week to work with next time.
---
Monday, September 29, 2008
Change Night!
Or, actually, Date Night! Woohoo!
We don't go on dates anymore, not really. We go on them so rarely that our nights out are more like major events than dates. The last night we got out was in May. Right now, there are Halloween costumes at Target. So it's been a while.
First off, we can't afford the baby-sitting to have frequent date nights. And even if we could, then we couldn't afford to go anywhere.
Now, I know there are solutions to this. We have at least two sets of lovely, trustworthy neighbors who are eager to do a baby-sitting swap. And if we get out, we don't need to do anything expensive, just to go sit and watch the ocean without the kids would be a treat. But that requires me getting off my lazy butt and actually planning something. With other people.
Recently, another solution fell into our laps. Our local YMCA is offering a night of baby-sitting, at the Y, for $5 per kid... for two and a half hours! And no age requirements! Ten bucks for the both of them? Now THAT I can afford.
But how to pay for our date? Hmmm....
Jeremy randomly decided over the weekend to roll up all the dimes and nickels we've been collecting in an old mug. (It's a relic of my teaching days. It says, "Teachers Change the World!" Get it? CHANGE. Haha, I'm hilarious, I know. Also? Does it really need to be said that you should NEVER give a teacher anything that is teacher-themed? Or has an apple on it? Or an A+? STOP IT ALREADY.)
So, he rolls up all the change. There are no quarters because we use those for laundry and he left all the pennies because, pennies? Who has time to roll pennies? And the final total, (insert trumpet fanfare) was twenty-six bucks!
Jeremy: We can go have a $26 dinner!
Me: We have a $5 coupon to the Indian place! We can have a $31 dinner!!!
Jeremy: But we still have to pay $10 for baby-sitting.
Me: Ok... a $21 dinner? Yeah, we can get a $21 dinner.
And Change Night was born!
---
We don't go on dates anymore, not really. We go on them so rarely that our nights out are more like major events than dates. The last night we got out was in May. Right now, there are Halloween costumes at Target. So it's been a while.
First off, we can't afford the baby-sitting to have frequent date nights. And even if we could, then we couldn't afford to go anywhere.
Now, I know there are solutions to this. We have at least two sets of lovely, trustworthy neighbors who are eager to do a baby-sitting swap. And if we get out, we don't need to do anything expensive, just to go sit and watch the ocean without the kids would be a treat. But that requires me getting off my lazy butt and actually planning something. With other people.
Recently, another solution fell into our laps. Our local YMCA is offering a night of baby-sitting, at the Y, for $5 per kid... for two and a half hours! And no age requirements! Ten bucks for the both of them? Now THAT I can afford.
But how to pay for our date? Hmmm....
Jeremy randomly decided over the weekend to roll up all the dimes and nickels we've been collecting in an old mug. (It's a relic of my teaching days. It says, "Teachers Change the World!" Get it? CHANGE. Haha, I'm hilarious, I know. Also? Does it really need to be said that you should NEVER give a teacher anything that is teacher-themed? Or has an apple on it? Or an A+? STOP IT ALREADY.)
So, he rolls up all the change. There are no quarters because we use those for laundry and he left all the pennies because, pennies? Who has time to roll pennies? And the final total, (insert trumpet fanfare) was twenty-six bucks!
Jeremy: We can go have a $26 dinner!
Me: We have a $5 coupon to the Indian place! We can have a $31 dinner!!!
Jeremy: But we still have to pay $10 for baby-sitting.
Me: Ok... a $21 dinner? Yeah, we can get a $21 dinner.
And Change Night was born!
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Friday, September 26, 2008
At Home vs. At the Zoo
Top 5 Reasons I'd Rather Live at the Zoo:
5. At the Zoo, the animals stay IN their enclosures.
At my home, the baby (who cannot even crawl yet!) pulls herself up on the crib rails, ready to vault over the side at any moment. This is the same crib that her big sister "graduated" from at age 2... only because I found her in mid-escape one day, hanging precariously over the side.
4. At the Zoo, the keepers lock the animals up at night and go home. To sleep.
Sleep! Glorious sleep! What I wouldn't give for one night of uninterrupted sleep!
3. At the Zoo, people pay good money to come see the animals.
Last time I checked, I had to pay someone else $12 an hour to come to my place and watch the two little people.
2. At the Zoo, you throw the food to the animals and they gladly eat it up.
Yesterday, I had baby oatmeal spit back at me. On my shirt. And face. My older daughter recently cried when I made her a PB&J because she wanted a liverwurst sandwich. Wha-huh?
And the Number One reason I'd rather live at the Zoo....
1. At the Zoo, they have churros.
I love those things!
---
This post inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network and the launch of iKnow Animals, Letters & Sounds
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5. At the Zoo, the animals stay IN their enclosures.
At my home, the baby (who cannot even crawl yet!) pulls herself up on the crib rails, ready to vault over the side at any moment. This is the same crib that her big sister "graduated" from at age 2... only because I found her in mid-escape one day, hanging precariously over the side.
4. At the Zoo, the keepers lock the animals up at night and go home. To sleep.
Sleep! Glorious sleep! What I wouldn't give for one night of uninterrupted sleep!
3. At the Zoo, people pay good money to come see the animals.
Last time I checked, I had to pay someone else $12 an hour to come to my place and watch the two little people.
2. At the Zoo, you throw the food to the animals and they gladly eat it up.
Yesterday, I had baby oatmeal spit back at me. On my shirt. And face. My older daughter recently cried when I made her a PB&J because she wanted a liverwurst sandwich. Wha-huh?
And the Number One reason I'd rather live at the Zoo....
1. At the Zoo, they have churros.
I love those things!
---
This post inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network and the launch of iKnow Animals, Letters & Sounds
---
The Road Ahead
As of this morning, I am 28 pounds lighter than I was when I came home from the hospital with Savannah. Since I ruined my knees running in the early weeks of her life, I have achieved this weight loss chiefly through changes in my diet. Basically, I just eat less. It has not been easy, and I'm extremely proud of myself. Today I fit into some old pants that I can't remember wearing since before I was pregnant with Chelsea.
According to the BMI calculators, I have moved from the "obese" category into merely "overweight." Which is good. Progress is good. But I still have another 26 pounds to go before I move into the "normal weight" range. And the weight that is my target for the top end of that range is one I have not seen on the scale since college.
As excited as I am about my progress this far, I'm overwhelmed by the thought that I'm only half-way there.
So far, it has helped me to think in small steps: with my weight in the 160s, my goal is to get to 159, and so forth. So instead of thinking about losing 26 pounds, I'm just thinking about the few pounds that will change that second number on the scale.
I don't know how to end this post since there's really no big "take home message" or snappy joke I can make. So, yay me for getting this far, but woe is me for still having a ways to go.
---
According to the BMI calculators, I have moved from the "obese" category into merely "overweight." Which is good. Progress is good. But I still have another 26 pounds to go before I move into the "normal weight" range. And the weight that is my target for the top end of that range is one I have not seen on the scale since college.
As excited as I am about my progress this far, I'm overwhelmed by the thought that I'm only half-way there.
So far, it has helped me to think in small steps: with my weight in the 160s, my goal is to get to 159, and so forth. So instead of thinking about losing 26 pounds, I'm just thinking about the few pounds that will change that second number on the scale.
I don't know how to end this post since there's really no big "take home message" or snappy joke I can make. So, yay me for getting this far, but woe is me for still having a ways to go.
---
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Why I am Going Straight to Hell
On a recent walk, I passed one of the many local churches in our small town. The notice board outside read, "Sunday Sermon 10am. Nursery care provided. Coffee Hour 11am."
My first thought? They want to watch my children for an hour? Then give me coffee and snacks?! And I get to just sit quietly?!!?! I AM SO THERE.
Now I am admittedly not a religious person, so it would be truly ridiculous of me to join this church out of my desire for free baby-sitting and treats. But what if I joined a less churchy church? Like our local Unitarian-Universalist congregation? The UUs accept and respect a wide range of beliefs, up to and including atheism. But do they offer nursery care and snacks? Yes, my friends, yes they do.
In all seriousness, I have been thinking about joining our local UU church partly for the reasons I wrote about here. I'm hesitant to get involved knowing that we're moving in less than a year, but I would like the opportunity to meet like-minded people and to have a space to explore my core values and beliefs.
And the free baby-sitting? Well, that doesn't hurt either.
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My first thought? They want to watch my children for an hour? Then give me coffee and snacks?! And I get to just sit quietly?!!?! I AM SO THERE.
Now I am admittedly not a religious person, so it would be truly ridiculous of me to join this church out of my desire for free baby-sitting and treats. But what if I joined a less churchy church? Like our local Unitarian-Universalist congregation? The UUs accept and respect a wide range of beliefs, up to and including atheism. But do they offer nursery care and snacks? Yes, my friends, yes they do.
In all seriousness, I have been thinking about joining our local UU church partly for the reasons I wrote about here. I'm hesitant to get involved knowing that we're moving in less than a year, but I would like the opportunity to meet like-minded people and to have a space to explore my core values and beliefs.
And the free baby-sitting? Well, that doesn't hurt either.
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