This week so far...

Sunday:

Genevieve walked into the kitchen after we told her to brush her hair with her hair neatly brushed and wet as usual, and smelling strange; not as usual. The smell was familiar... I tried to ask what it was and her big eyes got bigger and she said nothing. This is a bad sign. I knew for sure that it was a bathroom product of some sort. So I went to the bathroom to investigate. I found my facial toner on the counter, cap off and a good two inches emptier than usual. I tried to be angry but I was laughing too hard.

Monday:

I'm sitting outside of my Art History class waiting for it to start when my cell phone rings. It's Genevieve's day care. The director says she's fallen and hit her face and she needs stitches. She ended up with six stitches next to her eye (I'll post a picture later). That was about the least fun I've had in a while.

Tuesday:

I get a phone call from Imogen's school saying to come pick her up a little early because she had just vomited on her desk. I walked into the office to see her sitting on the bench holding a small trash can on her lap.

Wenesday, 4:45 pm:

Still waiting for today's little dose of disaster.

School, etc

Imogen commented that in chapel at school she gets to sit next to the teacher a lot. She paused to consider this, then commented "It's probably becauase I'm so good all the time." Jeremy and I just looked at each other and laughed.

I'm SURE that's the reason the teacher has my child sit next to her. My child who has gotten in trouble all last week for humming during lectures. My child who's solution for other people talking when she wants to talk is to simply talk louder (and start over so that they catch everything you want to say). My very squirmy child who sometimes forgets not to play with her friends.

However, her teacher also assures me that she's doing very very well in school. She reads quickly without sounding out most of the words, only the longer ones. I've barely lifted a finger to make her practice reading, beyond buying plenty of books for her to practice on. I'll get up in the morning and she'll be in bed with the light on reading instead of getting ready for school.

As for Genevieve, she makes the oddest off the wall observations. We were driving around the other day and out of the blue she says "Babies are smaller than trash cans, that are bigger than the trash can that is in my room." ??? I mean, what do you even SAY to that??

You can teach a kid anything

I have this huge art book laying around for an art history class and I flipped to a couple paintings thinking I could teach the girls some of them. They learned the Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa and the Van Gogh painted Starry Night. I taught them this months ago. Yesterday we were cleaning up the living room and Genevieve came across some junk mail that we had let them play with. It was a credit card offer and it had a picture of several different credit cards on it with the various customizations you could get.

"Starry night!" she said. We all stopped working. She was pointing to one of the tiny credit cards. Jeremy and I bent over to look. Indeed, the design on the credit card was a piece of Starry Night.

They also sort of know the names of the president, vice president, secretary of state and speaker of the house. Meaning, they often need hints, but then, we've only been working on that for a few days. Imogen didn't want to learn the secretary of state's name because she's not in the line of succession (as far as her mother knows anyway). :)

Bambi is lame

I just spent a gift card from my mother for Christmas and one of the things I got was the movie Bambie for the girls.

I'd forgotten how lame it was. Or actually, I didn't realize just how lame it is. Don't get me wrong, the girls love it. Imogen was beside herself with excitement when it arrived. They also got Cars but nooo, they won't watch that one. They've been giggling at this girlie-named-deer's antics the whole movie.

There's these long musical numbers. And they aren't Lion King, Little Mermaid music numbers that you can actually sing to. Bambi's mother is annoying. I think she's drugged. She speaks in this stupid monotone saying these wise-sounding-but-not lines. "Man... is in the forrest..." and "Winter has come." Thank you Lady Obvious. Fortunately, dialogue in general is rare this movie.

Then there's the scene where she dies. The farmer shoots, misses. She runs away... He continues to shoot and miss, finally, he manages to chase her down and land a shot. Now, deer in the forrest are pretty fast, so I'm not sure how this was accomplished. You never see the hunter, and I've concluded that he managed to chase her down in his flying spacecraft.

Hey, I know some people are into this movie. I remember as a child I wasn't too into it as well, and I attempt not to impose too much of my taste on my kids unless they like something so awful I worry about it permanently damaging them. :)

Cleaning rooms

The girls each have their own unique way of cleaning their room. Genevieve works quickly without complaint. She picks up any trash and throws it away and crams the rest in her closet. Then she goes about her business playing with her toys and if you ask about her room she confidently assures you that it is spotless and suggests that you go check it. It should be noted that her closet doesn't have a door.

Imogen on the other hand complains extensively. This is obviously the greatest injustice in the history of mankind but when she manages to get over herself and clean her room she meticulously makes her bed. She ignores laundry and toys all over the floor. She spreads blanket after blanket carefully, straightening them again and again. She's been known to unmake and remake her bed.

So today, I was asked to inspect their rooms.

Me: "Did you throw everything into your closet?" (Don't you love how parents ask the dumbest questions?)
Genevieve (completely unconcerned): "I wanted to."

And across the hall, I stare confusedly at the floor and Imogen speaks up. "Just check the bed."

Ice storm

It's hard to exaggerate how much ice there was around here. I went two full weeks without power. We were among the last people to be turned on and they only got around to us on Friday night at 5:30. I won't go into just how miserable that was.

Last night we moved home to find one of our rooms flooded. So Jeremy and I spent the day cleaning that up while the girls spent yet another night at their grandparents' house. My back hurts. Imogen and Genevieve just walked in and are thrilled to be home.

"I missed this house!" Genevieve said. They keep picking up toys and talking about how much they missed each one.

We're glad to be home, but we still have a lot of work to do in the office/utility room. If 2007 doesn't improve very soon I'm going to run away.

You might be a redneck...

Christmas pictures, late

Genevieve is relaxing on her beanbag she got for Christmas.


Zach was very lively and a wonderful conversationalist on Christmas.


Best smile in the world.



Genevieve is under there... somewhere.



Ben believes in maintaining his dignity at all times.

A very nice thing

Imogen commented to me that on Christmas her grandmother did a VERY nice thing. (Not just somewhat nice.)

"What nice thing did she do?" I asked disinterestedly, expecting something very typical like a gift or a treat of some grandmotherly fashion.

"She letted us wash the windows!" Imogen said, her eyes wide with the enormity of what she was revealing to me.

And I was very impressed with Jeremy's mother. She not only got my children to clean up her house, but she has managed to do so in such a way that this is put down in their little minds as a "nice thing". An example of generosity in the tradition of Tom Sawyer, white washing a fence. This was so impressive a display of benevolence, it goes beyond the mild giving out of candy. This random act of charity will be remembered for years to come as a highlight of the holiday season.

I wonder if I can get my bathroom cleaned like this...

On a power trip

Once upon a time, Imogen and Genevieve had their own rooms.

But Imogen emptied the dresser full of clothing onto the floor in her room every day so I got mad and created a play room (where they both slept) and a clothes room (which contained the dressers and whatever other random junk we didn't know what to do with).

And so time passed.

But to make a long story short, I cleaned out the clothes room and now it is Imogen's room. She has a new large twin size bed and a desk and will soon be getting a new dresser to replace the dilapidated one she has now.

And there was much rejoicing.

Seriously, if I had known how to get rid of her I would have done this a long time ago. She spends a lot of time in her room now. She set up her hop scotch foamy pad things and came to me and Jeremy.

"Please don't mess up my hop scotch. You don't have to hop scotch into my room, but I want Genevieve to. But please don't mess it up."

Jeremy took her aside and told her very kindly to get a grip. Somehow it has not occurred to Genevieve that she has the same set of powers that Imogen has over her room. It's harder for Genevieve because her room is not new or special and Imogen has spent a long time living in there. Still, I'm sure she'll figure it out and I'll get to hear all the joyful screaming about who is allowed in who's room and what set of actions are necessary to gain entrance into the other room and how far one much bend over backwards to avoid expulsion from said room. But for now, Genevieve is excited to be invited into Imogen's room and mentions that she hopes to sleep in there one day, which Imogen, with the air of a benevolent ruler, promises that she will.

Adventures of a bad secret-keeper

"It's a surprise. I can't tell.... We're singing 'Mary did you know?'"
"I thought you said it was a surprise."
"It is. You don't know that song."
"Yes I do."
"You do?? How did you learn it??"

Imogen is bad at secrets, bad at surprises. Today I got a Christmas gift from her. She walked in darting her eyes around and clutching something in her hands. She sat next to me on the couch and slipped her hand into my pocket. "You can read that later," she said. "Ok, I'll read it later," I said, and continued to read something on my computer. She waited about 30 seconds. "You can read it now," she said. (The endless patience of a five year old.) It was a little piece of a paper that had a drawing of us holding hands and said "I *heart* you. MY" (MY are, apparently, my initials. M for mommy.)

I thought it was so sweet and I thanked her. Thus encouraged, she said "I'm going to make another one. But it's a surprise. So don't look at it. I'll make it in my closet so you don't see. Don't come in there. I won't tell you where in my closet I'm going to be." (Note: the closets here are very small.)

Jeremy tried to explain that when you want to surprise someone you simply don't say anything about it but I'm not sure that'll sink in.

Imogen, uptight

I'm one of those people that gets on the nerves of people like Imogen. I've talked before about how rule-oriented she is and how she loves to classify everything in her world. She sees very much in black and white. There are ways in which certain things are to be done, and there is no wiggle room. It's right or it's wrong and it really NEEDS to be right. And I'm just really not like that.

At her school, they are teaching her etiquette and manners. One thing they are teaching her is how to set the table. We're usually so busy and in a rush that no table gets set around here. But since school has been out, I cook more, and she's been bugging me to set the table, and tonight I let her. Genevieve helped. And then, she became unhelpful. Imogen insisted that Genevieve's glass belonged on one side. Genevieve wanted it on the other. Genevieve was not moving any glass but her own and Imogen was freaking out about it. Crying, yelling and stomping her feet about how she can't possibly sit at the table and eat while looking at this glass on the wrong side of the plate. I sent her to her room to calm down.

She came out and I tried to explain that Genevieve's glass placement preferences are not important in the slightest and that Imogen was overreacting and needed to calm down and content herself with the symmetry of the rest of the table. She became upset again, crying that it simply wasn't possible to overlook such a glaring violation of the laws of nature. I sent her back to her room and didn't bring it up again when she came back.

pictures

Imogen looking evil or something. :)


Our Christmas tree, or at least most of it. It's very pretty. :)


Genevieve putting on her shoes. You can see her new earing. And her new haircut.


I bought the girls hats and gloves the other day. Genevieve modeled her's for her daddy just before bed.

Earrings

Genevieve got her ears pierced today. When we got there the woman said she was the only one there who could do it so we would have to do them one at a time. I had warned Genevieve that it would hurt, but I've never heard of a four year old getting them done one at a time. I asked her if it would be ok, and she insisted that it would.

In a sudden and strange turn of event she chose pale blue stones for her ears over pink. It gave me hope that she wasn't quite herself this morning (and would handle pain with a little more dignity than is her custom.) She sat very still and quiet and looked very grim while her ears were washed and the dots were marked and remarked till they were even.

Then she did the first one. Genevieve flinched and gasped. No tears, no screams, no insistance that she really only wanted one earring. Same thing other side. She picked a blue sucker to match her earring (we can't be seen eating clashing candy, apparently).

Later Jeremy commented that he's not too surprised. Genevieve's got an extreme stubborn streak and when she decides she wants something, very little will stand in her way.

Scary movies

"Go away, I'm watching a scary preview."
I- "I like scary movies."
"This one is too scary."
I- "I like movies that are too scary!"
G- "Yeah! I like movies that are all-the-way-scary."

Tennessee

Overheard:

Genevieve: "Where am I from..." in squeaky voice for pony.
Imogen: "California?"
Genevieve: "No."
Imogen: "Colorado?"
"No."
"Connecticut?"
"No."
"Delaware?"

Etc.

The other day Imogen came home from school and asked if we could go visit Tennessee. Who wants to go to Tennessee? What's even in Tennessee?

Genevieve's "kids"

So, I walk into the living room the other day and the girls are playing Uno. There are Uno cards scattered around on the floor in messy piles in the middle of a circle of not only Imogen and Genevieve but the three miniature stuffed animals that Genevieve calls her "kids". A little pink pig, a little pink bunny and the "red-head stepchild" of the group, a little gray elephant.

"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Playing Uno," Imogen answers.
"Why do you have so many cards out?"
"Because Genevieve's kids are playing too," Imogen answers.

I watched them go around the circle, playing a card for each stuffed animal. They speak for the animals in squeeky voices replying in their normal voices.

Genevieve sleeps with these animals, reminding me of my little sister who used to sleep with so many stuffed animals, you couldn't see the bed around her and you had a hard time piling them all on so that they wouldn't fall off. At least Genevieve's addiction hasn't reached such a critical stage.

Instead of working on stuff, I'm posting this

Me.


My messy desk. The coloring is funky because I have this pink lamp that bathes everything in a pink light. It makes me happy.

Halloween

I don't have my camera back yet, so you'll have to settle for a low quality webcam picture.

As you can see they decided to go as frilly as they could this year. Imogen is a fairy and Genevieve is a princess, but there's precious little difference. Both are pink and poofy.

Strawberry milk

At the store I said I would buy the girls some chocolate milk. But then Genevieve noticed the strawberry milk. Chocolate milk has a surprising lack of pinkness I guess.

"How do they make strawberry milk?" she asked.
"Well," I said "you have to get a pink cow. And feed it strawberries."
"Really?" her eyes lit up. She was enchanted. I could see the baby pink cows frolicking in the strawberry fields of her mind.
"No, not really," I said.

The other day we were at Wal-mart and Genevieve made a comment about when she was a grown up.

"You'll be old by then," she said. While I was grappling with this statement, she ammended it. "Actually, you'll be dead."

Wow.