Brought to you by the letter J

It's "J" week at school, so in addition to learning about jingle bells and Jesus, the kids made bead jewelry yesterday. I went to pick up Lucy from school, and she came flying out, all excited, holding a string of beads.

She said, "Look, Mom! I made you this beautiful necklace! It's your present! Put it on now! And wear it with pride!"

I know all parents say this, but...seriously? "Wear it with pride"?! Where does she get this stuff??

Oh, THAT'S why...

"Lucy, COME ON. We're going to be late for school! Get in the car. You're movin' like a herd of turtles!"

"Mom, do you know why I'm moving so slow like a turtle? It's because I had a honkin' big lunch."

Uh, does she know something I don't?

Lucy: "Mom, who's your grandpa?"

Me: "My grandpa's in heaven."

Lucy (in a business-like tone): "OK. When you go to heaven, please tell your grandpa how much I love him and tell him all about me."

Me: "Uh....OK."

Lucy: "I mean it, Mom. When you get to heaven, OK? Bye."

An Exchange of Letters

Earlier this week, Darren had lunch with Pastor Williquette. On the way out of the restaurant, Pastor grabbed two balloons for Darren to bring home to the girls. They were thrilled (especially since the balloons were from him). Unfortunately, Lucy lost hold of hers, and it sailed into the wild (gray) yonder. When I was tucking her in bed that night, she said, "Mom, I'm writing a thank-you note tomorrow and here's what it will say."

Dear Pastor Williquette:

I love you. Thank you for the red balloon. But...balloons don't last forever.

Love,

Lucy

And here is what he wrote back to her:

Dear Lucy,

You are right balloons don't last forever, and that can make us sad. But God gives us many other things to make us happy besides balloons. He gives us good daddys and mommys. He give us little sisters like Elaine. He gives us people in our church who love us. I am sorry you lost your red balloon, but remember that God has given you many other very good things. And remember most of all the God loves you more than anyone else and that if you are His child, you will never lose Him.

I love you too Lucy,

Pastor Williquette

p.s. Please tell your dad and mom and Elaine I said, "Hi."

In Memorial

We used to have these two dogs, Boo Radley and Gatsby. We got Boo Radley when we first got married. He was the naughtiest dog who ever lived. We could never have toilet paper on the roll where it belongs because he would pull it all off and eat it. He lived to be 12 years old and would still do it (if we occasionally tried to put it on the roll in a burst of optimism) even though he had arthritis. We could never use any wastebasket or garbage can that was not enclosed in some sort of cabinet. We could never leave any food out for any period of time however brief on any surface, including high-up countertops. Once we had some friends over for dinner and then had dessert in the family room. One of our guests couldn't finish his, and put his plate on the coffee table. We sat around and talked for hours, while Boo Radley slept deeply, snoring, on the couch. When our friends left, we of course walked them to the door. In that brief moment of time (he had been awaiting his opportunity all evening--what had we been thinking, talking for so long) he was wide awake, up from the couch, and calmly eating the remaining piece of eclair cake.

One time, at our previous house, Darren left the basement door open (unusual for him). Keep in mind that our previous house was huge. Cavernous. 3,000+ square feet with 11-foot ceilings. We had three living rooms and two bathrooms the size of living rooms. We had a full English walk-out basement. The basement was dark and used only for storage. At the far end of the basement, Darren had a cluttered work bench. On the bench, he had put the remainder of a bag of unshelled, salted peanuts he had gotten at a Kane County Cougars game. Boo Radley had never eaten peanuts. To my knowledge, he had hardly ever been in the basement and had no interest in going.

Yet, when we got home and went up to our bedroom on the third floor, our bed held the remains of an empty plastic peanut bag and all sorts of peanut shells. So. In our absence, Boo Radley had gone to the dark basement, gone to the farthest corner of said basement, rummaged through the various detritus in the dark basement, found the bag of peanuts, carried the bag in his mouth up not one, but two very long flights of stairs, hopped up onto our high, Victorian bed and eaten them. In comfort.

How I miss that dog.

But, this week, Darren and I have decided that Boo's spirit lives on. He has been reincarnated, if you will, into our youngest daughter. All of a sudden, in addition to her infamous wallpaper-ripping activities (and Boo so would have done that if he could have) Elaine can leave no roll of toilet paper left unrolled.

Every time I sit down to eat, even if she's just eaten a large meal herself, she will climb up on my lap, push her face by my plate, and insist, "Mine. Mine," until I give her a little tidbit. And on Wednesday, I left a garbage bag of trash just inside the kitchen door for one of us to take out on our way to church that night. I came down and found her sitting by the (now open) bag of trash with a good portion of the contents strewn around her on the floor and an empty Sprite bottle in her hand as she attempted to drink from it. I'd have pictures of it, but I guess you understand that the first thing on my mind when I saw that wasn't grabbing the camera.

Boo Radley. RIP, buddy. Or...maybe not.

Quote of the Day...

I went to get Elaine out of her crib one morning earlier this week. She had been at her wallpaper removal project again. She pointed at the wall and said, "Paper." I said, "Yes, I see you've been ripping the paper off again." She lowered her head and said, "Naughty." I said, "You're right. It is naughty. You're not supposed to rip paper."

Then she popped her head back up again with a big smile and said, "Fun!"

First Birthday Party

After the Fall Fest (and staying until 10 p.m. to clean up), I went home. Darren had left around 8:30 with the girls in order to put them to bed. When I pulled in the driveway, every light in the house was on. Bad sign. The girls were wandering around in their pajamas with sticky faces, teeth unbrushed, and bawling. Mama was not happy. I got them in bed finally and crashed too at about 11. At 2 a.m. I was awakened by piercing shrieks. I ran into Elaine's room--she was twisting and flailing and screaming. In the pandemonium, her shirt lifted and I could see she was covered with hives. I rocked her, soothed her, and finally took her downstairs to play. I realized at about 3 a.m. that I didn't feel much like continuing to sit up in the bright light and read "Ten Apples Up on Top," so I told her we should go back to bed. That didn't sit well. Darren left to go hunting in Peoria around 4, and I think I might have gotten Elaine calmed back down at around 5:30 or 6. (This included a repetitive prayer that went something like, "Dear God, please let her go to sleep, please let her go to sleep, please let her go to sleep.") She finally did, cross-wise in the middle of my bed. That really didn't leave much space for me, so I flopped cross-wise at the bottom of the bed.

At 7, I was awakened again, this time by a loud whisper about an inch from my face. "MOM. IS IT TIME TO PUT ON MY DRESS FOR THE PARTY YET?" I opened one eye and said, "No, and you better have some sort of caffeine with you, little missy." By now they were both awake and asking for breakfast.

At 10:45, I had Lucy bathed, dressed, and ready for her friend Isabella's birthday party at Lucile's Tea Room. She's been talking about it for weeks, her first real birthday party. I was nervous because I knew there would be 18 other girls there, none of whom she knew. I wanted her to have fun and feel secure and be nice. All those mom things. She looked so sweet and was so excited. We got to the tea room, and it was already filled with little girls. I was so glad I had bought her a new dress and shoes. She held onto my hand tightly, but she eventually let go and said, "'Bye, Mommy." When I left she had this little anxious look on her face that looked as though she wanted to be happy, but was also frightened and not sure how.

Elaine and I left and both started to cry on the way home. I think she was just mad though. She went down for a nap, and I started to clean up the house. Then I called my mom and told her everything from how annoyed I was that Darren left my crockpot full of chili sitting in the front seat of the car overnight and how my house was a mess and how I hardly had any sleep and how I just left my 4-year-old with a roomful of strangers and that I hoped I had sent her with the right kind of present and did I mention how tired I was and Darren was gone? Sometimes you've just got to have your mama to talk to, that's all.

I picked up Lucy at 1, and of course she had a fantastic time. She had her nails painted orange and her mouth covered in purple lip gloss. She was full of tales of the party, how they had had pigs-in-a-blanket, cucumber sandwiches, tea, and pink candle birthday cake (something might have gotten a little garbled there).

By the time evening rolled around, I had a clean house, two tired girls in bed, and Darren came home and we shared a pizza together. He had called a little earlier to say he was on his way and said, "I was thinking of Lucy most of today and hoping she had a good time at the party." The thought of him out there in his camo gear with his bow and arrow, thinking about his daughter and anxious that she was fine at a party made me completely forgive the crockpot-filled-with-chili-left-on-my-front-seat-overnight incident.

And...here she is. Doesn't she look just fine?

Halloween and Fall Fest

Here are Glinda and Dorothy. Darren took them around to a few of the neighbors' houses, and came away with more loot than they should have for the number of houses they went to. Our neighbors behind us, Keith and Linda, gave them large, frosted bakery cookies. Fortunately, the girls are still at an age where they don't really remember all they've gotten. Lucy ate her cookie over a number of days, but Darren and I shared Elaine's. Hey, I come by this honestly. My mom used to examine our bags when my brother and I were done trick-or-treating and take all the Hershey and Hershey's with almond bars so she could "cook" with them. Now, we never tasted anything she cooked with them, but she was able to successfully run this scam every year.

Friday night after Halloween was the church's Fall Fest. Along with my friend Sarah, I was in charge of putting it together. We had a great time. We worked at the church a good portion of Friday, decorating. There was a ring-of-pop toss, basketball hoop, beanbag toss, donut-eating contest, duck pond, face-painting booth, cookie-decorating booth, cake walk, and I don't remember what all. There was a men's chili cook-off as well, and hot dogs for anyone who wasn't a chili fan. There was a costume contest too. No one in my family took away any prizes, but we still had a great time.

Overheard...

Yesterday after church was over, I was trying, on my own, to get the girls organized and into the car. Yeah. That's pretty much like a herding a bunch of cats. They were running around, chasing each other and squealing, and at one point when I turned my head for a nanosecond, Elaine ended up in the pastor's study. (Let me just digress here a moment and say, this is why I have only two kids. That way there's one hand to grab each back of the collar.) I finally got them into their coats and I said to Lucy, "We need to find Dad. Do you know where he is?"

She gave a big, patient sigh and said, "I don't know, Mom. I'm sure he'll turn up."

Weekly wrap-up

Last Thursday was Darren's birthday. He took the day off and got to take Lucy to swimming class for the first time in months. He hasn't seen her in this new class before--now she's out in the middle of the pool, getting real coaching. No more sitting on the shallow side of the pool, playing with toys and learning to put her face in the water. He had a class at night, so we ended up celebrating on Saturday. That could have been more fun than it was, honestly. We went to his favorite pizza place and had cake at our house afterward. But in order to accommodate everyone's schedules, we had to do it at noon instead of evening. That didn't really accommodate Elaine's schedule, so I spent most of the time at the restaurant, keeping her away from the table and letting her climb on the benches outside. He did enjoy his cake--Lucy picked out the design and decorated it.

If you can't already tell, it's a camping cake. The center is a pretzel campfire, there are some marshmallow/cereal trees, and frosted graham cracker sleeping bags (Daddy in the middle, Lucy and Elaine on either side. Lucy said, "But where are you, Mom?" and I said, "Upstairs--sleeping in my own bed.")

This week at school was community helper week. I basically consider these almost-weekly dress-up days as a thrown-down gauntlet to my creativity. I put Lucy in some cotton pants and a pajama top, with a stethoscope around her neck.

I think she looks very professional. She told everyone at school she was a nurse, just like Aunt Kimmie. (However to be honest, she did drag her feet on the way out the door and say, "I just don't like my costume very much." Seriously? I dream of being able to wear scrubs to work.)


Also this week was Elaine's first trip to the salon. As you can see, it was more than necessary.
[Note the wallpaper behind her head. She currently sleeps in our guestroom--when she is ready for a big girl bed, she and Lucy will share a room. We decided to redo the guestroom as soon as she's out of her crib. It was done by the previous owners; it was their teenage son's room. It's nice for a teenage boy but kind of dark for our taste. About a week or so again, Elaine began an independent project of stripping the wallpaper. Always trying to help her parents, that one.]

Here she is at the salon, reading a magazine. She instinctively knew to do that, I'm proud to say. She was particularly interested in an article featuring Queen Latifah called "Black Biker Chicks." She wasn't sure what to make of the haircut, but I let her sit on my lap throughout and she did a great job. Afterward, she said good-bye and blew kisses to the girls at the salon.
A blurry pic of girls with twin haircuts...A better shot, while eating a strawberry...

Those are the highlights of this week at the Daniels' house. Tuesday night I had dinner with Judy and Michele, Thursday night I had dinner with Sarah, and Friday I had lunch with Becky and Kathi. Consequently, I'll be eating cereal each meal for the next several days. And currently, it's Saturday morning, and I'm letting the girls watch The Muppet Show while I sit in my robe and write in my blog. That's a sentence I know my mother has never said!

I'm sure she is....

I recently ordered the unabridged version of "Betsy-Tacy" on CD for Lucy. She's been listening and enjoying, and today she showed me the cover and asked me "Who's that?"

I told her, "That's the lady who is reading the story to you."

"What's her name?"

"Let's see...her name is Sutton Foster." [I'm envious]

"Sutton FLOSS-ter? I don't like that name at all, Mom. But I'm sure she's a very nice person anyway."

Whatever

Monday I had kind of a low day. I think I possibly read too many blogs--that might be what started it. I've always liked to take walks in the early evening when you can catch a glimpse into people's houses--they're getting supper ready or watching the news...It's fascinating to get a little look into other's people's lives. Blogs let you do that. I read some great ones. However, it seems that in addition to being great and funny writers, these women I read somehow homeschool all their children, sew all their clothes from vintage fabrics, knit, set up elaborate home organization and cooking systems to follow, take fabulous photos, dispense fashion advice, grow organic vegetables...it's so overwhelming. Then I tell myself, "But...Self! You work!" Yeah, I do. So do some of them. They're lawyers and professors and people obtaining their PhDs while I'm sitting at my desk sifting through 10th-grade science rubrics for hours on end, making sure the grammar and punctuation is correct. Then I go home and am so tired I give my kids Chex mix for dinner and let them watch Madeline.

Lately too Elaine has been waking up at night. I think she's napping too long and too late during the day (oh good. I get to shorten her naps!), and then by 2:30 a.m. she's ready to be up. It also could be the approximately 72 ounces of bathwater she ingests right before bedtime, so she's waterlogged and wants a change. Plus another drink so she can be waterlogged again by the true time to get up. So I'm dragging myself out of bed, changing her, then she commands, "Blanket. Rock." We get her blanket and settle ourselves in the rocking chair. I sit there in the dark, holding her dead weight on my lap. Then she'll bring her little face right up to me, push her nose against mine, smile her huge smile, and say "HI!" in her loud, raspy, chain-smoker's voice. Then she'll fling her arms around me, bury her face in my neck, and whisper to herself, "Mommy!"as she snuggles up to me as tight as she can.

Then as I sniff the little dandelion fluff that is her hair and rock her in the peaceful dark, I think, "I get this. I get her." And I think about those other women and go, so what? Whatever.

Garden Celebrity

I remember when Darren and I brought Lucy home from the hospital. I said to him, "Can you imagine that someday she'll have her own little personality? Someday she'll tell us what kind of ice cream she likes." It completely blew both our minds; we couldn't even imagine that.

Now, every two weeks in Mrs. Hogan's class, there is a new "garden celebrity." She sends a poster board home with the would-be celebrity and they (read: their mother) are supposed to make a collage of themself, which will then be posted in the classroom.



This is a project I can get behind. I stayed up late both Friday and Saturday night working on "our" poster. (I let Lucy help me color the fence.) Here's what we wrote:

"This is my house. I live there with my dad, my mom, my sister, Elaine, and Rabbie. I was born on June 7, 2003.
I love my sister. We like to read together, play dolls, and try on shoes."

"My favorite color is yellow."

"I love music! I love Selah, Keith Green, and Meredith Andrews. Elaine and I sing along to Strawberry Shortcake and Winnie-the-Pooh."

"I like to play dress-up."

"I love to swim."

"I like to drink tea every day. I have tea parties with my Manga."

"I like to play outside with Elaine. Best of all, I love to read! I have lots of favorites. I love 'Lyle, Lyle Crocodile.' I listen to books on CD, too."

"My dad and I go to baseball and football games. We like to take bike rides and stop for ice cream. We like to eat at Happy Joe's. My mom and I like to read and cook and sing hymns together. We take walks together, too."

"My favorite food is scones."

"This is me with Rabbie and Bittie as a flower girl at my Tia and Tio's wedding."

"I like to do art projects."

"I go to First Baptist Church. I go to Sunday School, Children's Church, and Kids4Truth. I like hearing Bible stories and singing best!"

"I'd like to be a cook. I can make poppyseed bread, banana bread, apple bread, cookies, and potato casserole. Rabbie likes to cook with me."

So...that's our little garden celebrity. I couldn't have imagined it...

Why, Si, si it is...

[last night before bedtime]

"Mom, do you want to know how to say 'I'm sorry' in Spanish?"

"Sure, how do you say 'I'm sorry' in Spanish?"

"It's 'Ioweyouanapology.'"

Wardrobe Malfunctions

For anyone seeing those Wednesday pictures, one might think those weren't all taken on the same day since there was a wide variety of outfits. But...one would be wrong. The first outfits were morning playclothes. Then Lucy had to wear different clothes to school in the afternoon. She was, for some reason, supposed to dress in cowgirl costume again, but I had exhausted all our options with the bandana the day before. So she wore a jean skirt and flowered shirt, which looked country to me, but Darren said was decidedly more Groovy Girl. Then she didn't want to wear the bandana around her neck but rather around her hair like Cinderella (giving her an actual odd combination between hip-hop and Aunt Jemima before she got her new PC hairdo). Then Elaine had to change her dress because she spilled milk on it, and everyone knows spilled milk is possibly one of the worst smells in the world.

That's usually how our days go. The day before, Lucy forgot to go to the bathroom before she went to the park with my mom and ended up having to go behind a tree. Another wardrobe change, including wet shoes.

These changes extend to me as well. They're well past the formula/nursing stage, yet I still regularly sport dried food, tears, and other bodily fluids on my clothes. The other day at the park, I suddenly realized that, though it was only 9 a.m., I already had dried blood all over the shoulder of my new white t-shirt.

In other news, Darren, in one of his several calls to me at work this morning, said that he was trying to come up with a way to keep Elaine from eating during the 10 seconds or so it takes to say a blessing for the food. (She likes to hold one of your hands and eat with the other.) This morning he decided to outwit her and hold both her hands. He said, "The problem was that I had a little bit of banana smushed on my hand. So while I was praying, she leaned down and licked my thumb."

Perfect Fall Day: A Pictorial

Welcoming Mr. FiberOptic Pumpkin.....

A funeral and sand burial for a dearly-departed, just-met ladybug....

One of the mourners....

"...and you can be my cowgirl"

When I was little, my mom signed me up for ballet lessons. It was in order to strengthen my left leg, plus I was interested in ballet and not interested in sports. I remember going to the ballet supply store on the ground floor of a ballet studio...seeing would-be ballerinas running around in their leotards and tights. My mom bought me the shoes (which I still have). The first day of lessons, she showed me my leotard. It was a hand-me-down from someone, and I think it was for gymnastics. It was two-tone green--lime and forest--and had a zipper. Also, there were no tights. But I knew better than to say anything because the money was there for the appropriate shoes and the lessons, and that was it. A perfectly serviceable leotard was there for me to wear, too.

So, I did, every week. No one ever said anything to me either, even though I was the only one not in a black leotard (with no zipper) and pink tights. But you know what? It was completely fine. Sure, I felt a little out of place and self-concious. But there was no permanent damage.

Today at Lucy's school, it was cowboy/cowgirl day. Now, I've lived in northern Illinois my whole life. And I only rarely listen to country music. So, the whole western look is kind of baffling to me. There's really not a lot of call for cowboy boots (are they called "ropers"?) and hats. So, here was my solution to dress-up day. Lucy wore her jeans and a white shirt. I bought a red bandana and tied it around her neck. She wore white gym shoes. She was so thrilled with herself. She kept running and looking in the mirror and saying, "I look like a real cowgirl, don't I, Mom? What's a cowgirl? Why do they wear these bandanas?"

Then when I got her to school....oh my. These kids were fully kitted out. Boots and hats and chaps and leather dusters and vests...you name it. Immediately I was transported back to the ballet studio, circa 1978. And there was my Lucy, waiting expectantly in her carseat, wearing a $.94 bandana from Wal-Mart.

It's walking a fine line, being a mom. I have to nurture that little coccoon and keep it warm and dry and safe from bad weather and predators. But I can't smother it, and I can't force it to come out, and I can't decide exactly what the butterfly will look like when it appears.

I think it'll be just fine. No permanent damage. Maybe even no damage at all--she didn't seem to realize there was any difference between her and anyone else.

But I still feel just a little bit self-conscious.

"That is such a scam! She just wants to go surfing!"

Remember that so-bad-it-was-good movie with Mark Harmon and Kirstie Alley (before she went all cuckoo) called "Summer School"? It was about a bunch of slacker high school students and their even moreso slacker teacher (Mark Harmon) in summer school? Oh, you don't? Well, that's it. That's the basic plot. But anyway, there's one student (Courtney Thorne-Smith before she got famous) who says she has to leave class because she's sick, but she really just wants to go outside. (This is quality writing, people, nothing but the classics watched here!)

Well, that's Elaine today. I think it's the last day of summer (despite the fact that it's late September). It's supposed to be in the 90s, and it's sunny. Now, she does have a fever that's fluctuating between 100 and 102 and she does have some light hives, but I think they've all been spectacularly produced in order to stay home from daycare today.

She woke up at 5:45, which of course is far too early, so I brought her in bed with us. She laid back on my pillow and flipped through the book on my bedside table. She petted Darren's face and whispered, "Daddy." She giggled while he snored. She wiggled a lot. Then she leaned close so her nose was touching mine and whispered loudly, "Blocks!" Oh-kay. Guess it was time to get up.

So far this morning she has played with blocks, played with her dollhouse, played out in the backyard, eaten a large breakfast and part of mine, got up in the wing chair in the living room and said, "Moo-ee. Peas." So I put in a Strawberry Shortcake (or "Buh-buh cake" as she calls her) movie for her. Then she indicated that she would like the footrest up on the chair, regardless of the fact that her feet don't even reach to the edge, let alone the footrest. Then she decided she wanted to take a walk. She came upstairs and riffled through the books on Lucy's shelf. Now she's gotten out the Strawberry Shortcake dolls and is playing with them while singing along to the soundtrack to Piglet's Big Movie. Pretty soon I can see her snapping her fingers a la Snoopy and asking me for a pepperoni pizza and a root beer.

All this by 11:15. Isn't she about ready to take a nap yet? I am.

Hey, I still live here too!

Don't think Elaine has just gotten pushed to the side lately (and if you knew her? You'd realize that that is virtually impossible). It's just that school has opened up a lot of venues of conversation and is a source of new quotes. Rest assured that ol' Tootlebug, as she is also known, is still going strong.

Yesterday she was going down the basement stairs, and I said, "Scoot over so you're near the wall, not near the railing."

She looked at me and said, "No."

I said, "Excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that--what did you just say to me?"

Then she put her hands on her hips and said, somewhat garbled, but in an exact imitation, "You don't say 'No' to Mommy!"

Then she scooted over.

Yeah, she's a lot like me...

[In the car, on the way to school]

"Mom, do you know what Gabby said to me?"

"What?"

"She said, 'Why didn't you say hi to my big sister?' Wasn't that rude? It hurt my feelings."

"You should just tell her, 'I don't know your sister. Why don't you introduce me?'"

"She's not very nice to me. She doesn't really play with me. I like Paige better."

"Well, honey, let's just do what Jesus would want us to do. Just let it roll off you. Forgive her; it's no big deal. Start fresh again today and try to be friends with her."


[pause]


"Actually, Mom? I just want to complain about it some more."