Holiday weekend

We had totally perfect weather this weekend. Imogen and Genevieve got to spend time with Jeremy's cousins, Rachel, Laura and Sarah.

It wouldn't be a real holiday without cooking mishaps

The first batch of pumpkin bread (pictured here) had no baking powder. The second batch had baking powder. Problem: the recipe calls for baking soda. Each batch makes nine miniloafs of bread. That's eighteen pumpkin flavored bricks I have laying around. Seventeen, actually, because Elijah ate one. Slowly.


The pumpkin pie, however, turned out very well, which is nice. I've never made pumpkin pie before and I felt that ruining the pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving is like burning the stuffing or something. Very not cool.

Fall is here!

It's been gorgeous days, but also that awkward in-between stage when you wake up in the morning and are cold so you put on too much clothes and find yourself roasting in the afternoon. Imogen and Genevieve each have school sweaters, jackets, gloves, hats, shoes, and tights of varying thickness for customizable warmth. This makes everything harder because there's that much more to keep track of. Genevieve naturally stores things in her bed. Imogen doesn't "store" anything so much as leave it anywhere she feels like it. In the past two weeks she has left a hoodie, a sweater (brand new) and her most prize possession, a stuffed leopard, on the playground at school. You can guess that she and I were upset about different items.

A two year old in the house

Elijah is a regular visitor these days. I think it's cool that my kids get to have a cousin around. I hardly knew any of mine. Even though he's much younger, they enjoy having him around. He takes naps in Genevieve's bed on occasion, and Genevieve has this strange habit (which is getting out of hand if you ask me) of storing copious amounts of stuff in her bed. It began with stuffed animals. And as the collection grew, more of her bed was taken up with them. Then it was a couple books. Far be it from me to discourage my children from reading before bed time. But then, there are some nights you don't want to read. You would much rather draw. Let's add a notebook and a few pencils. And a box of crayons (just a small one). And some markers. Just in case. Of course, I don't immediately notice when she's added something, because it's tucked out of the way, under blankets and stuffed animals. So when I tuck Elijah into the rapidly shrinking sleeping area of the bed, I don't see anything amiss. Not until after his nap is over when he was covered in marker scribbles.

Halloween

We went trick or treating for Halloween. We obviously didn't have any particular costume theme we were going for here.

The aftermath. It went quickly.

Out with the old...

We saw an old man selling a shih tzu puppy by the side of the road. As we ooh'ed and ahh'ed, Imogen said, "Can we buy it mommy?"

"No, of course not," I said.

"Why not? Monster is so troublesome."

"Oh, so we just get rid of Monster and buy a new puppy?" I said, laughing.

"Sure. We could sell Monster for $100."

"No one's going to pay for that dog," I said.

"Well, maybe you should grow his hair out like a real shih tzu and someone will," she said.

Like a real shih tzu?? What's that supposed to mean? I don't think my kids have noticed that Monster has outgrown his chew-on-everything stage. Puppies are much more annoying than grown dogs. Even though Monster has taken to pantry raiding and dumpster diving. I came home one day to find a bag of brown sugar chewed open and sitting on my couch. What kind of dog steals baking goods? Not to mention the candy bars (in their wrappers) that he has been vomiting (again, on my couch). Still, I asked Imogen who was going to fund this dog exchange and she didn't really have an answer for that one.

Imogen

Our back yard is a jungle.

Genevieve

Much fun with paint

I had these tiny canvases on hand so I pulled them out along with a bunch of paint that I didn't use, as well as paint that I did use. It's funny the different value we placed on different colors. The kids were very impressed with the silver and gold paints that I bought and thought I would use but never do. I, on the other hand, use replace my white most often, and I think I was the only one to use it.

The Fourth of July

Yesterday, we invaded Mary's house for a cook out again. This is a fairly new tradition where we sometimes forget to invite everyone, completely fail to coordinate who will bring what, so that we show up uninvited with enough hot dogs for 20 people and no ketchup or mustard.


We argue about how well done a marshmallow should be.


There are various schools of thought on this one...


Wet wipes are necessary.




We encourage our children's pyromaniac tenancies.

And have fun with sparklers.


Which can be kinda cool.

When I was your age...

"I had a hamster when I was a teenager," I said. "We kept her in a fish tank."

"That's awkward," Imogen said.

I'm not back yet

Sorry for dropping off the face of the planet. My last final is on May 12th. I'll be back then.

Recent pictures

Things have been really busy lately. But here are a few pictures I took, playing with my camera.

Snow memories

For a while now, Imogen has been very concerned about the lack of snow in her life. Sure, when she was two or three it snowed a lot and she got to play around in it. However, these are, apparently, the golden years of her childhood, and until yesterday, she had not had a few key experiences. At times, it would snow, but not enough for a snowball fight or snowman construction. She was literally worried that she would grow up without having done these things and they would no longer be fun for her. It seems like an odd thing for a seven year old to stress about, but tragedy has been averted. Here is photographic proof...


That Imogen and Genevieve have made a snowman. A very lumpy one. They named him Snowy. Imogen has always been a believer in the most obvious and literal name possible.


That they had a snowball fight. This consisted of them throwing snowballs toward each other and mostly missing and at Jeremy, who caught them and threw them back.


And that snow angels were made. The snow was rather slushy at this point and was laying on top of a layer of ice from the previous ice/sleet/freezing rain extravaganza. But it doesn't matter! We have the photograph of the snow angel making! Our snow memories are complete.

Ice

Freezing rain plus a lot of sleet means a couple days off of school. Which is nice, in some ways. I think Imogen and Genevieve are getting cabin fever though. I hear them yelling at each other in the next room.

Genevieve's room

Today we did nothing. The girls built forts out of blankets and chairs and spent most of the day in them. The weather outside is frightful, but the central heating is delightful.

Last night I sent Genevieve into her room to clean it up. Imogen reported a few minutes later. "Genevieve isn't cleaning her room."

"Oh?" I said. "Go pick up five things in Genevieve's room."

"Why?" she said.

"Because you're just so interested in it," I said. So she left.

Several minutes later, Genevieve appeared and said in her best tragic shaky-whiny-pathetic voice, "Imogen didn't put those things away. She just threw them all in a basket."

"How many things have you picked up?" I asked.

Long pause. "Zero," she whispered. Seriously? She's going to complain that someone else isn't cleaning up her mess adequately?

"Go clean your room," I said. She ran from the room, screaming over her shoulder, "I'm going to sit in there and DO NOTHING!"

"That'll show me!" I called after her.

When they were little, like one year old, I used to have them help me pick up their toys and put them in the toy box. It's not like this whole pick-up-your-own-mess concept is new to them. Hasn't sunk in yet though.

Quiet mornings

Blue

I got a new little camera for an early birthday gift (thanks mom!) It's been a good winter for cameras. It can take videos (among other things). Imogen and Genevieve love videos. You hit record and they act like complete idiots and then they watch the clip, cackling maniacally as if it's the funniest thing that ever managed to be captured on screen. Then I delete the clip and they beg me to record another one.

Hard days

Some days at school seem to be harder than others. They come home and they are in weepy grouchy moods. And they have such a strange mother that my reaction is to point a camera at them.

When they were little they would sometimes pitch these horrid screaming tantrums. Nothing would get them out of it. I usually just dragged them to their room and let them scream it out, until they were willing to be civilized. But sometimes, for my own entertainment, I had to take pictures of them, red faced, tears streaming, mouths open as they vented a rage that only a two year old can feel.

These days it is much harder to get pictures of my children when they are upset. For one thing, they don't abandon themselves to their anger like they did when they were younger. Which is not to say that they do not get angry, but it is less of a blind fury and more directed anger with an actual cause. And for another, they simply don't like these types of pictures. When they're upset, hiding their face from me is an easy and petty rebellion with no consequences. I've managed to catch a few and when they look at them later, they don't like the photographs. I don't know if it's embarrassment or simply remembering being upset.

Either way, I'm sure they wish I would get over my compulsion to take pictures of these tragic moments in their lives. Like that's going to happen any time soon.

Camera inheritance

Until last month, this is the camera I was using. There's nothing inherently wrong with it, just that it's old. I bought it when Genevieve was a baby. Digital cameras have come a long way in six years. But it's still perfectly functional and not overly complicated, so I gave it to Imogen and Genevieve. Imogen likes it more, but tends to shoot a lot of pictures of the dogs. They both spend more time viewing pictures they have taken than taking more pictures. For some odd reason I thought they should know how to delete pictures off the camera and so they never save a shot. They take a few pictures, look at them, the delete them. I informed Imogen that the camera would hold over 100 pictures and she said, "Really?" Um, yes.

I'm cold...

It snowed today.


Just a little bit.

Back in school

Imogen, Genevieve and I all started school on Monday. This is my last semester. Unless I have a total nervous breakdown, I'll graduate in May. The girls both have quite a few years left ahead of them.

Life gets so busy. I try to snatch as much time as I can to play with them, talk to them. We write notes to each other on the wipe off board side of their easel. "I love you mommy! I hope you have a good day!" And I write a reply. The notes are repetitive and not necessary, since we see each other several times a day, but they always make me smile when I see them. And usually make them come and hug me when they see them.

Imogen handed me a note today that she meant to give me at Christmas. It said something like, "MeRrY cHrIsTmAs MoMmY! I think fish are boing this too! I love you! ImOgEn" Then there was a drawing of two stick men holding hands and they were labeled "Me" and "You". Very random child...

Shoes

Fuzzy

The trauma of Life (tm)

Imogen and Genevieve got several board games for Christmas. They typically love/are obsessed with games, whether electronic (Wii, Nintendo DS), of the card variety (Go fish, Uno, etc.) or on a board of some kind. They received Battleship, which I left in Texas, and Life and Clue which I left in Missouri when I went to Texas.


But now that we're home, I'm expected to get these games out and teach them how to play them. Why didn't I foresee this? I have a long history of saying "No noisey electronic toys" and "No movies that make me want to drive an ice pick into my ears". So it's not as if I have no self preservation when suggesting for gifts for my children.


Yesterday we played Clue. The girls argued over who got to be Miss Scarlet so I decided that I got to be Miss Scarlet. The ruled declared that Miss Scarlet goes first. On my first turn I made it into the nearest room and got to suggest the who, where and with what of the murder. I asked them if they could prove me wrong. Nope, they both said. Are you sure, I said. Yes, they assured me. Are you sure, I said. They were sure. What are the chances that I guessed completely right on the very first turn? Not quite good enough apparently. "Oh you said the lounge?" Imogen said.


So today we played Life. I remember playing Life as a child and either I was playing it wrong or they've changed it up a bit and added new elements to game play. The rules were laid out on a three page book, front and back. Call me lazy, but doesn't that seem excessive? Genevieve cried often. When Imogen had a kid before she did. When Imogen had more kids than she did. When Imogen had more life cards than she did. And when I won the game entirely. I cheated excessively, but not to win. If I didn't like the square someone was about to land on, I "miscounted". Thus, Imogen didn't have to pay for college for her four children, Genevieve didn't have to pay taxes and got more raises than she should have, and I didn't get to sue anyone.

After the game was over, Genevieve knew she needed to stop crying in front of me, so she quietly slipped away to her room to cry alone. She returned just as I was done packing away the game with it's excessive number of tiny pieces. Life's hard on a little kid, I guess.