Monday, November 19, 2007

Don we now our gay apparel...



Now, I love Christmas. But I hate all the cheesy, tacky and just plain ugly things that come with it. There's something badly wrong with a holiday that produces a sweater like this... "embellished with fiber optic lights!" Seriously.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Imogen's drawing


Imogen's drawing style has recently changed to reflect body mass (rather than stick men) and more details which includes very large ears, googly eyes and creepy looking teeth.

Labels are also important.

Internal alarm clock

I have been getting up at 5:30. I wish I could say that I've been getting up at 5:30 because I've been going to bed early and thus have been getting plenty of sleep, waking up refreshed and ready to go at 5:30 in the morning. Alas, it is not so.

Genevieve, however, seems downright perky each morning as she knocks on my bedroom door to say that she is hungry/bored/not tired/lonely/afraid of the dark/etc. Children are surprisingly less adorable when the sun goes down.

I used to be sympathetic. I mean, poor kid, afraid of the dark. But now I don't care. Sleep deprivation does that to you. I've explained many times that nothing will get her. I bought her a night light and even took off the little plastic shade so that it shines directly into her eyes. I allow her to get up and turn on additional lights in the house without comment. But she's rather disrespectful of other people's sleep. I can ignore the hallway light being turned on. I cannot ignore it flashing like a strobe light while she flicks it on and off and on and off. I commented rather loudly on that one (we were all awake anyway).

The girls have been ordered to stay in bed till Jeremy and I get up. Our alarm goes off at 6:30 and I think that's unpleasantly early enough. And honestly, neither of us care at all if they wake up and get up and do something extremely quiet. But nooo, they are out of bed with all the subtlety of a marching band, playing with toys, getting into loud arguments, or banging on my door and claiming they are starving. I yank open the door looking like death itself and scream something to the effect of, "THEN GET A PIECE OF FRUIT OR SOMETHING I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT GO AWAY I'M TRYING TO SLEEP ARE YOU INSANE!!!!!"

Then Genevieve cries because I yelled. And I can't go back to sleep because she's crying. I have to say, it's been a great way to start my mornings. Every morning. Except Saturday but only because they are at Jeremy parents' house behaving like perfect angels and sleeping till noon or something.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Outdated technology

I remember when I first heard about the Internet. I remember playing text based games with no graphics. I remember when the coolest thing our computer did was Paint. I remember my first clunky gray cell phone. I remember the first person I met who had a digital camera. I didn't really get the concept.

My children are growing up in a world that never lacked these things. Once I found a disposable camera in the back of some drawer and took a picture of them. They wanted to see it on the back of the camera immediately. I took tons of pictures of them for my photography class last semester and they finally got used to this appalling limitation of 35mm cameras. Last night Imogen asked me if I would teach her how to use Photoshop when she is eight.

My kids have spent more time on cell phones than regular phones in their lives. All "regular" phones are cordless phones. The inconvenience of not being reachable at all times doesn't really occur to them. Oh and cell phones all have cameras. They are growing up in a world that not only has always had email, but where small hand held devices like cell phones and electronic organizers can email.

My microwave died a couple days ago. It's basically a very large digital clock now. Today I went to heat something up for Genevieve's lunch and I put it in the microwave, punched in the time and it again failed to turn on. I sighed and dumped the soup into a small pan to heat it over the stove. I was on my (cell) phone with a friend (who I met online).

"My microwave is broken," I complained. "Can you believe people used to have to boil everything?"

Sunday, November 04, 2007

I found a new way to torment my children

The fun thing about kids is that sometimes they don't realize you are torturing them.

So, today, I invented a new game. A game any adult would call "cruel and unusual punishment" but which my kids thought was fabulously cool. I told them to close their eyes and hold their arms above their heads, and I would tickle them and whoever put their arms down first lost.

And they actually cooperated with this. Surprisingly, Genevieve won both times. She held her arms straight up, squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on "turning her tickle spots off" which she can do alarmingly well for a five year old. I've never met a child that young with that much will power and frankly, I don't see what the fun in that is. (No wonder she's so much trouble.) Imogen put her hands on her head, closed her eyes, then peeked constantly and kept bending over so her elbows would be at her sides.

Then, when I got bored of the new game, they got annoyed and begged to play some more.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Genevieve's song

Genevieve has never been very devoted to eating. Imogen will wolf down her food then leave the table. Genevieve plays, talks, goofs off, sings songs, instead of eating. This morning, while staring at her tiny amount of honey nut cheerios (it's not like I'm feeding them gruel), she was singing. After a while of ignoring her, I tuned in and this is what she was singing.

Aaand, I wish I was a shirt.
A nice shirt.
I would let people put me on.
And I would be so nice to them.
I would be beautiful.
People love beautiful things.
Evil people I would be mean to.
I would hit them if I had arms.
I wish I was a shirt that had arms.
I wish I was a shiiiiirt!

And I wish I was a chair...

At this point I interrupted with much regret and told her to get dressed. She had about 30 cheerios in the bottom of her bowl and she barely ate any of them. She's really not much of a breakfast person.