The Fun of Funder

We had a tremendous thunder storm roll through Monday afternoon (what is with all the electrical storms this summer?). Really tremendous, like Hollywood storms-never-really-sound-like-that tremendous. Woke both kids up from their naps. They were in seperate rooms, as napping together is currently an unsuccessful endeavor, and M woke first-I went to her (she's still in her crib, much to her dismay-when we've let her try sleeping in G's bed, we eventually hear her knocking on the door as their knob is too high for her to reach), got her up, and laid down in G's bed with her to see if I could lull her back to sleep. No luck. Every time the thunder would rumble, she'd curl in to me, quivering-I assured her all was fine and all that, but she often chooses no to believe me. She finally asked what the noise was, and I told her it was thunder up in the clouds. "Oh, it's funder?" "Yes, thunder." "Oh, it's jus funder. It's funder." G joined us a few minutes later, and was reassured, "Buh-buh, that's funder. It's only funder. It's ok, it's funder."
I couldn't get them to relax, and as it was daylight it wouldn't be any fun sitting in a window to watch (as we normally would), so to try and get them to relax about the whole thing we geared up Seattle style (no umbrellas) and headed out into some of the heaviest rain I've ever seen. Our street (on a hill) was nearlya rushing river, much to the kids' delight as they ran up and down it, racing leaf boats to the bottom.
It was during this hour of soaking-wet craziness that I was forced to come to grips with my illness. What drivers and passers-by must have thought, seeing me and my kids in the pouring rain--this is what I imagine them saying to themselves, "That horrible woman, making her children get soaking wet just so she can edge her lawn." I couldn't help it. I was outside, the edger was just leaning there, we always have so much yardwork to do, I just couldn't help it. Plus the ground is really soft when it's wet. I may need to enter some sort of program. At least they weren't worried about the "funder" anymore.

Garrett's Photography.

We got a new camera several months ago, and Garrett asked if he could have our old one. Figuring I could just dump the digital images when he was done, I let him have a go. Here are a few of the 50+ shots he took (I omitted ones we could have titled "wall" and "leg of chair"). I had no idea when he gave me back the camera what I would find.

Make-up in Mirror

Down the Whirley-Tube

Self Portrait

Cake In Dome

Experimental Picture-posting

Stone party! (Dubbed "stones" by my niece when she was 2, not called such because my scones are rock hard, as has been suggested in the past.) Stone-baking is a long-standing tradition for my niece and I, on this occasion joined and assisted by the peanut gallery. You would not believe the amount of deliberation that went into the choosing of each child's add-in--William really thought that, at some point, someone would tell him he really couldn't put chocolate chips in his. Oh-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-Comin' down the street...the kids and Troy got to ride the stagecoach in the Mercer Island Summer Celebration parade-I can't tell you how bummed I was that I had a client meeting and had to take off right after snapping these shots. Troy was uber-thrilled to ride "up top." And I'm not joking. You should have seen him vault himself up there.

House Work in High Heels

Sounds like a country song, doesn't it? The other day I took the kids to Value Village to pick out some dress-up things for them. Morgan of course went immediately for the shoes, and we picked out two pairs of heeled slides, and actually, they're pretty cute. They also happen to be my size (honestly, that was a coincidence). Morgan LOVES them. Loves them so much she wants to wear them always. The GREAT thing is, there are two pairs, so she doesn't have to wear them alone! She will come charging towards me, arms full of shoes, and announce "Mommy, put on your pretty shoes! Dere's a mon-ter (monster) coming!" She has not explained how the pretty shoes assist in the fending off of a monster-maybe it will only eat you if you are un-fashionable.
So yesterday, as I hurried around doing chores before I had to leave for a client meeting, I was compelled to do my house work wearing two inch heels. Meaning if I took them off she would yell at me, and then follow me around trying to slip them on my feet every time I took a step. When I asked her if I could take them off yet, she would reply with a resounding, "Not YET!" Oh well. Now I can empathize with June Cleaver.
I finally came up with a compromise. I could take them off for awhile if Garrett would agree to wear them. Not surprisingly, he was thrilled at the idea.

Troy's input and Morgan's idea

Troy really felt I should put this particular interaction betwixt Morgan and I here:

(Scene: in that bathroom, Morgan has announced she needs to go potty but is refusing to do it herself as is the norm)

M: Can't get my seat! (her padded potty seat insert, goes on the regular toilet)
S: Yes you can, it's right there.
M: No, I can't get it!
S: Honey, just reach down and get it.
M: No I can't! Daddy say me no!

Troy has no recollection of ever telling her she couldn't get her seat herself, and really appreciates it when the kids blame him for not doing things I tell them to do. Early in the morning, she had announced (after donning a coat and shoes over her pajamas):
"Come on guys! Follow me! I got an idea!" Keep in mind she's two and a half and often sounds as though she's speaking with food in her mouth-this however, came out loud and clear. What else was I to do? I followed her. She led me to the hall closet, which she opened and announced she needed her hat. I presented her with her pink floppy hat, which she insisted wasn't hers (she wears it all the time) and continued to search for a more suitable selection. Unfortunately this disrtacted her from her original quest and I was never to find out what her "idea" was.

She has also appointed herself the household personal trainer-we recently aquired a Wii Fit, and have been using it almost nightly (for those not in the "know" it's a video-game based work-out system, you stand on a small board that measures your stance and balance for a variety of games that work on balance and posture, strength training, aerobics, and yoga). Her favorit game is the ski jump, wherein you must bend your knees while leaning forward togain speed, and then straigten your legs at just the right time to make your character jump, then hold your balance steady to make the jump good. She has succesfully managed to do this one out of about 15 tries-usually she just refuses to stand up. So now when we're playing, regardless of the game, she will come running, position herself next to you, and announce, "Ok, BEN(D) YOUR KNEES! Ben(d) you knees, mommy! Like dis! (demonstrating perfect position, which she doesn't assume when she's actually playing)." I can't tell you how helpful and motivating this is when I am, say, trying to stand perfectly still in a one-legged yoga stance. Especially when she will then come behind me and push me knees forward, once again asserting the importance of "ben your knees!"
Physical fitness is very important to her.

Comments Enabled

Sorry to those who have attempted to comment (I know, my writing is so thought-provoking it inspires endless expounding and pontification, so the inability to log it here must have been unbearably frustrating), I changed the settings and you now have my permission to do so. Happy Monday!

Thunder and Lightening and Kittens, Oh My

So we have a new kitten. She's ridiculously adorable and fantastically rambunctious, as kittens tend to be, and not at all inclined to "respect her elders," i.e Dervish and Nox. They are coping. Troy has named her. After observing her unique hunting style (wherein she crouches in shadows, often on a lower stair than her intended prey's ankles, waiting in silence--devoid of the traditional kitten-y butt-wiggling and over-zealous pouncing--until just the right moment, when she strikes like lightening at the lower limbs of innocent passers-by, then immediately races away to lurk once more in her shroud of darkness like a Ninja), he was most adamant that she must be called "Assassin." I argued she was far to cute to carry such a name. Perhaps we could call her Lucy. He was steadfast. We call her Sassy.

The dark hours of night are of course a playground for those of her ilk, and last night was no exception. The difference came from it being was so hot and so humid in our house that in order to sleep even remotely comfortably, we were forced to leave all the doors (not exterior, of course) and windows open so that our legion of fans could keep the air circulating. Oh, was this a thrill to Sassy. Shortly after 2 AM, I awoke to Morgan's firm little voice ordering, "No! No No NO!" What did I find upon inspection? A frisky kitten, in her crib, had nibbled her toes (in a cute way, of course) until she woke up, then proceeded to try and play with her. Why she would pick Morgan I don't know, as Morgan tortures her-carrying her by her neck, pulling her tail to keep her from running away, typical cat vs 2 yr old interaction. But there she was, waking her up and begging for more. Perhaps she thought this was her golden opportunity to reap revenge. I ousted her from the room and closed the door. Shortly after 3 AM Sassy felt lonely, and decided to join us in our bed. She lay there quietly, but I could feel her tail twitching and knew it was coming. Sure enough, after about ten minutes she could no longer contain herself and was eventually ousted from our room as well.
At 4 AM a tremendous thunder storm rolled in. While I was upset to be woken yet again, I can't resist a good storm and proceeded into the living room to curl up in a chair near the windows to watch. After a few rounds of strike and rumble I went to check the children, as Garrett has a love-hate relationship with thunder storms. Both soundly asleep. I headed back to bed. Not long after, I realized that the chattering on the outskirts of my dream was really happening and woke yet again, this time with Garrett standing by our bed desperately trying to tell Troy, at high speed, exactly what was happening (from a meteorological standpoint). I asked if he was scared and he replied, eyes wide as saucers, "Oh no!" and launched into the same high-pitched rapid fire explanation he'd been giving Troy. After telling him to can it (in the politest 4:30 AM way possible), I pulled him into bed between us where he proceeded to wriggle, poke, prod, lean, and push until I escorted him back to bed a short while later. There I found, AGAIN, a wide-awake Morgan-apparently Garrett had neglected to shut the door behind him and she was being visited by our fury assassin once more. Which was nice, because otherwise she'd have missed out on the storm, and who wouldn't want their entire household awake and animatedly talking about lightening at 4:30 in the morning?!?! All except my husband, of course. He has no recollection of any of this.
Back to bed for all, doors shut, kittens ousted, nearly back to sleep, when we are visited by another of our household-Dervish (our oldest and largest) thumped herself down between us (causing us both to bounce lightly) and proceeded to be just as restful as Garrett. Apparently she'd been snug beneath our bed, and I had unwittingly locked her in the room with us.
Maybe not one of my more restful nights.