The Queen's Rambles

I bought Mike a GPS system for Christmas. He asked for it, but it is something I’ve wanted for a long time. I would love to explore the area, but I hate getting lost. I thought this would be a perfect solution.

Ugh.

So wrong.

I posted before that I really want to do something nice for my cousin’s new little girl. They sent Elsa a ton of outfits when she was born and I have been frozen with indecision. My cousin’s a doctor and they have been waiting for this little girl forever. My aunt said they have more outfits than the girl can possibly wear in her lifetime, so I didn’t really want to go that route.

I wanted to make a quilt, but my back is bad and my time is short so it felt like the only quilt I could make would be a simple one and that didn’t seem special enough.

I wanted to get a little Korean doll (the baby is from Korea) but there are very few Korean/Asian dolls out there and I have a feeling that my cousin has probably already bought every single one that money can buy.

The other day I saw a thing about ticker tape quilts and a plan was formed. I make a super simple quilt. I buy a doll (I went with a black haired Stella doll). I make a ticker tape baby quilt with the scraps. The doll and the toddler have matching quilts. It feels special. Win!

I went to the nearest quilt shop, but didn’t find any fabrics that I loved. I knew there was a super-amazing fabric store about 20 minutes away and with my GPS system I could get there with minimum trouble even though it is in middle of a big city that I hate driving in.

This is where I went wrong. I trusted the GPS.

It had me end up in a parking lot in middle of the city and the lady kept yelling at me when I would leave the parking lot. I would try to get going in a different direction, but it kept taking me back to that damned parking lot. Grrrrr!

When I finally found the store I was totally disappointed. I’ve been to the Virginia location several times and loved it. I was at their old Maryland location a couple of years ago and loved it. They’ve moved into a much smaller space and barely had anything. I walked around the whole place looking for the secret stairwell to all the fabric but never did find it. The only good thing is they were having a super sale, so almost all quilting fabric was $7.50/yd. Great price, but if they don’t have anything you want, who cares?

I came home and did what I should have done earlier this week–bought several fabrics from an online store. I want to see them in person, but that dream is done I guess. They are all from the same collection so I know they’ll match. I don’t know when I’ll have time to do all this sewing, but I am beyond negligent in getting this gift in the mail so it needs to happen within the next couple of weeks.

Oh, and did I mention what else that lying woman inside the GPS told me to do? She wanted me to go south on the main highway instead of north. I turned her off at that point because I was on my way home and I knew exactly how to get there. I don’t know where she was going to send me, but going south would have been a serious mistake.

Most useless Christmas gift ever? Possibly. Especially since it makes you feel prepared for driving around, but in reality it knows even less than you do.

It seems like every post about Elsa devolves into “and she’s nothing at all like Erik” kind of a thing, but it’s true! I knew that siblings would be different, but I’m used to certain things working and not working so it is all a bit of a shock. Just when you think you know parenting have another baby, eh?

Newest way she is not like Erik: She loooooooves electrical outlets. We childproofed all our outlets when Erik was a baby and I don’t think I ever saw him playing with them. Ever. It felt like a big waste.

It’s not so much that she likes the empty outlets. She wants to pull the plugs out and chew on them. Not good. Especially not good when she did it today and didn’t have it all the way unplugged. Oh my god. Poor, shocked little baby. She needs a better mama. I think we’ll be making another trip to the super expensive super baby store. They have a whole wall of safety products you never knew you needed. Hint: suction cup safety devices are total crap.

In other developments, I am feeding this poor kid pre-packaged baby fast food. You know the Gerber pasta pick-ups and stuff like that? Erik never had anything like that, but she won’t swallow real people food and doesn’t want to be spoon fed. I tried cooking pasta really soft for her but she was having none of it. The stupid pasta pick-ups? She gobbles them down. Why, baby, why? I am not a fan of that type of thing b/c it seems like a scam, but if that is all she’ll eat then I guess I’ll be buying it for a little while.

Despite all the differences she sure is cute. And fun. So, so fun!

She started taking a few steps yesterday, but is not very confident and doesn’t seem to enjoy it. I suppose I better start trying to find some shoes to fit her feet. It is so hard when they still have really fat, thick feet to find something tall enough.

What else?

Erik had another karate graduation tonight. Such a scam. I’ll say one thing for the karate place: they know how to make a buck.

Erik loves it so we’ll continue until he doesn’t love it. I love when he says “yes, ma’am” and bows and jumps up to do what I ask because “that’s what a black belt leader does.”

There’s another kid in the class who has really overbearing parents. The kid is totally done and doesn’t even pretend to pay attention any more. The dad always yells at him in middle of the class (highly discouraged by the teacher) and is just a general jerk. He gave me the third degree about Erik the other day. How old is he? Yeah, but when is his birthday? How often do you make him practice at home? How do you make him behave during class? Yeah, but you must do SOMETHING to make him love it?

I talked to his mom and she says they are dropping the class since he’s not progressing and prefers to take ballet. I can not see the manly-man dad letting that happen but I guess the mom and the kid won that war. Apparently they pulled him from ballet for this and he is eager to get back to the dance.

I know every kid is not suited to every activity. I am more than willing to have Erik bounce around from activity to activity until he finds his niche. Right now karate seems to be that niche, though I know it could change at any moment.

Speaking of boys and ballet and gender issues and just. . . grrr.

If you read a lot of parenting blogs you know there is a big movement to “ungender” your child. In the best form, which is what I tried to do with Erik to some extent, it means you don’t push them into gender stereotypes. You buy gender neutral toys, don’t shove a gun into the boy’s hands or a princess into the girl’s hands. If the boy wants to take ballet, he takes ballet. The girl wants to play soccer, she plays soccer. It can be very reasonable, just like any parenting movement.

Then you have the fringe. The people who take it too far.

The craziest thing I’ve heard is a couple that is not telling anyone the gender of their baby. They will only dress it in gender neutral clothing and no one will change the kid’s diapers. The baby isn’t born yet, so we’ll see how long that lasts.

What really bugs me are the people who think they are breaking stereotypes but are actually trying to force an anti-gender identity onto their kid. I’ve read way too many articles lately about a parent who thinks they are so damn clever because their little boy dresses in pink and it becomes a thing where the PARENT has such an investment in it, it seems like they no longer care about the kid or what the kid wants. Break stereotypes all you want if that’s what your kid is into, but if your little boy prefers a truck, that’s what he prefers. One particular odious mother had her three sons in ballet but wouldn’t sign her daughter up for ballet even though her daughter ASKED because it was her dream to have feminine boys and a tomboy girl. I don’t see how this is any better than pushing the regular ol’ stereotypes on your kids. In fact, it seems worse because not only are you forcing them to do something they don’t want to do, you are forcing them to become objects of ridicule (depending on how far you take it). If a kid wants to be quirky and likes opposite gender things and doesn’t mind the backlash (not that there should be backlash, but I live in reality) so be it. You don’t force your kid to do something they don’t even want to do when you know there is a potential backlash because it is not “normal.”

I’m here to tell ya. . . doesn’t matter what you want your kid to do, they will soon figure out what they want and if you are any kind of decent parent you will let them be the kind of person they want to be (while still being a parent and guiding them in life.) I think Erik was three before I figured out he really liked to play with cars and trucks and wear very boyish clothes. Nowadays I don’t dare buy him clothes that I like because I know they’ll just sit in the closet and he’ll only wear the few things that he picked out himself. Our styles don’t match at all, but that’s ok.

Just the other day the moderator of a quilting community that I used to enjoy once again posted about her pet subject: gendered baby quilts. I know longer post to that community because when I was showing off one of the baby quilts I made for a friend she attacked me for having pink in it.

I’d like a show of hands if any hand-crafted item you received as a baby had any impact at all on your gender identity, sexuality, or even color preference. The very idea is ludicrous. People make these quilts because they love babies! Or they love the babies’ parents!

Some people, myself included, use baby quilts as an opportunity to work with colors (pinks, crazy brights, sweet little blues) they don’t normally get to work with. I wouldn’t want a really pink quilt for myself, but I love the colors and will damn well make a baby girl quilt with pretty little pink flowers if I want. I am not saying that I will hate the kid if she grows up gay. In fact, it is pretty stupid to imply that a gay woman doesn’t like pink. I bet there are plenty of lesbians that like pink. I know there are plenty of straight women that don’t like pink. It’s a baby quilt. Not a political agenda.

When I was in 8th grade I found the DREAM bedding/bath set and I coveted it. Oh how I wanted. It was pink with big fluffy koala bears. I had no money and didn’t really have much of a way to earn money so I knew I would never have it, but I dreamed of being a grown-up and owning my own house and having a beautiful pink, fluffy koala theme.

My grandma did a very sweet thing and bought me the full set for 8th grade graduation. Then she totally ruined it all by telling me I was not allowed to use it until I went away to college. I was crushed. CRUSHED. I had the fluffy, pink koalas but I couldn’t use them.

My mom was a very smart mom and three things: 1) My grandma was never going to be in my room 2) an 18 year old is probably not going to want to deck out their dorm room in pink, fluffy koalas and 3) other people don’t get to dictate how you use a gift.

She let me use the items and I was one happy, pink, fluffy, koala loving 13 year old. The items were worn out by the time I went away to college, which was a good thing since I wanted teal and turquoise and green and black. I would have died if I had to take pink, fluffy koalas to college.

So that pretty pink quilt I made for my friend’s daughter? I seriously don’t think she’ll be taking it to college. I don’t think it’s going to “turn her straight” or whatever. If her mom puts it away and saves it for her, I’m sure she’ll pull it out when she’s older and think “awww, how nice of someone to make me a quilt.” I don’t think she’s going to be thinking “that bitch put pink in my baby quilt! How dare she dictate the bounds of my gender identity!” And if she does? Then she’s an ungrateful brat who badly needs a spanking.

Isn’t she cute? That’s what her face looks like all the time, except when a camera is pointed at her.

One of the great things about living in the DC area is that we have people we know randomly visit the area for other reasons and we get to see them! That never happened when we lived in Kiruna. Unless we knew a crazy person who thought spending a night in the ice hotel was fun, it would have never happened. Nor did it happen in Klamath Falls. Unless we knew a crazy person who wanted to shoot animals or fish it never would have happened. Crazy for wanting to do those things in KF, not crazy for wanting to do those things. Though I would never want to do those things.

Our long time book-club friend, Leslie, came out for work and spent a night with us. Erik was estactic. He was confused because he thought Bethany’s daughter, Annalie, was going to be spending the night no matter how many times I told him Leslie was a grown-up lady. I thought he would be disappointed when she arrived, but no. He was immediately smitten and spent a lot of time trying to get her attention in that oh-so-not-adorable way five year olds have. Poor Leslie. Not only did he try to make out with her, which she deftly deflected, he pulled his pants down and sort of half-mooned her with a frisbee as cover.

I hope she comes back, but I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Twenty-four hours with a five year old who loves you can be intense.

We did invent some fun games: Tape Up the Kid and Tie Up the Kid. Don’t worry. No kids were harmed in the games, but it did keep the boy busy for approximately 16 seconds.

Leslie and I have a lot of similiar tastes in books and shows, so it was really fun to introduce her to the BBC version of Being Human. I was confused that it was recording b/c I had dumped the American version from my DVR and didn’t realize the new season of the BBC version was out. I did a little dance of joy when I realized what was happening. I had almost lost faith after watching 20 minutes of the American version, but season three is back and better than ever.

Where was I?

I have lost my train of thought. I just had to dish out ice cream and reprimands, which always makes me a little fuzzy. I’m sure I had something important to say.

The screaming. I could talk about the screaming.

Erik has suddenly decided to scream a horrible, ear splitting scream every time something startles him, Elsa comes near him, Elsa goes near something she shouldn’t have, or I look like I am content and happy and he wants to piss me off.

That last might not be true, but it feels true.

In an effort to not beat him about the head, I’m sending him to his room every single time he does it. I hope the behavior is extinguished quickly because I’d hate to have to turn him over to an orphanage after all these years together.

And he is pretty cute. (click through for some more pictures if you are so inclined)

That’s about it. If you want to read something very worth reading and that I wish I had written, click HERE. It’s a post about the importance of free choice and women’s rights by one of my college friends. I love her so much. I didn’t really know her in college because she was a freshmen when I was a senior, but I’ve been following her blog for awhile now and she is very articulate, intelligent, funny and an all around great person.

Elsa has yeast. Gah! You know, if she hadn’t had the most horrendous diaper rash I’d ever seen after wearing disposable diapers for 24 hours I’d think cloth diapers were a crock of . . . well. . . you know. Is the pun too obvious?

But she did have that horrible diaper rash, so I can just imagine what her poor little butt would look like if she was my first child and I wasn’t in a cloth mind-frame and had no idea that moving her to cloth would make her life a lot better. As it is, she has patches of eczema all over. They aren’t the worst I’ve seen, but I know that she has a long, long road of sensitive skin issues ahead. I’ve had eczema on my hands since I was 16 years old. That’s 20 years of a continuous rash. Sometimes a lot (like right now) sometimes a little. Always there. I think I find cures and solutions, but none ever work long term.

I think I can get the yeast rash under control for her, but not without a major pitfall: disposable diapers. Gross. So so so gross.

I used disposables with Erik and I never understood why cloth users were all “ewwww! Disposables are gross!” I thought they were just being. . . superior? Silly? Melodramatic? Uninformed? I don’t know. I didn’t think most of them were being rude or malicious or anything, but I just didn’t believe them.

Now that I know the wonders of cloth, all I can say is “ewwwwwwww!” She’s already had a major poop blow-out today. So gross. You just don’t get those in cloth*. I remember having them daily when Erik was an infant.

And the stench. Oh my god. Gag me with a spork.

I’m not even being melodramatic. I promise. It’s not like changing cloth diapers are all sunshine and roses. They provide a very necessary function, but even with cloth diapers it isn’t fun or un-gross.

Anyway, she needs to be in disposables for two reasons: 1) The rash cream will cause the diapers to repel instead of absorb and 2) Yeast is a monster to get rid of, so I have to treat all her diapers to try to kill the yeast. We’ll never get rid of it if she is re-using the yeasty diapers.

This has got to be one of the most boring posts. I’m sorry, but that’s my world right now. Diapers and yeast, oh my!

At least the weather has been nice the past couple of days! We met up with one of our neighbors yesterday and she said I should just send Erik to her house whenever I want because her son is really bored and needs a playmate. Her son just turned five and has never been to any type of school (not even homeschooled or anything like that). I thought he was a lot younger than Erik because he seems so immature, but I guess he just doesn’t know how to act around people. I don’t know. He has two much older half-brothers and I think they coddle him, so maybe that plays into it as well. He’s a very nice kid and the mom is really nice so I hope we can help each other out with some babysitting swaps. She doesn’t let him play outside by himself (and I can see why), so we knocked on the door today and had him come out and play with us. I watched the boys for about an hour then she came out and watched them for another hour. It was really nice. There’s a one in four chance the boys will be in the same class next year so it will be nice for them to get to know each other. I think the mom was really shocked to think about kindergarten starting in a few months and totally panicked about her son not knowing anyone. It will be interesting to see how it plays out. So far I know of four kids on the street starting kindergarten next year.

We had a little kindergarten Q&A in my MOMS club meeting today and it was really interesting to hear the different perspectives. I am just incredibly grateful for my neighborhood and all the kids who make it a great place to grow up. I may not have my dream house, but I do have my dream neighborhood. In some ways that is more important than having all the space of a dream house. If I could just entertain here, I’d be golden.

Anyway, I am so pleased that Erik will have a whole cadre of friends looking out for him on the bus and at school. I’ve overheard several moms in the preschool pick-up line really worrying over the fact that their kid will be riding the bus and won’t know anyone because they don’t have friendly neighborhoods. I can totally understand that worry. What if there are bullies on the bus? What if he gets lost? What if????? So many things! But Erik will have Elmer and Carlos and Jamie and Rania and Romeo and Ember and Jayquon and Lucy and so many others to help him and defend him. Are they all perfect? Of course not. But they all have kind hearts, I think. There’s only a couple of kids that are mean and the other kids, especially Elmer and Jamie, don’t tolerate their behavior.

On the agenda for tomorrow: call the school and get Erik’s name on the enrollment list. I don’t know if I am going to laugh or cry on the first day of school. It seems completely ridiculous that I am old enough to have a child in kindergarten. But you know what? I’m old enough to have a teenager. And I wouldn’t have even been a teen mother.

*We’ve had two poop blow-outs in cloth, but both times it was with an unprepped diaper so it was my fault.

I was so pissed last night that I almost ran away from home. Where I would have went on a night windy enough to fell an oak, I do not know. But I was angry and tired and ready to Be Done.

You all know I have Princess and the Pea issues. One little piece of dirt or a single crumb will ruin my night’s sleep. Food is not allowed in my bed. Ever. No exceptions (except breast milk, but that’s not crumby).

I guess Erik didn’t get the message since it has never come up. We don’t really go upstairs to the bedrooms during the day except to change diapers or put away laundry.

He had a little friend come over and the little friend loves to hang out in my closet. He pretends it’s an elevator. Not my favorite game, obviously, but whatever.

Yesterday the kids told me they were playing in Erik’s room. I SHOULD have been more vigilant. I SHOULD have went to see what they were doing. I SHOULD have made them sit at the table with their graham crackers (I told them to sit at the table, but they snuck around and up the stairs when I was attending to Elsa.)

You see where this is leading.

They had a graham cracker party in my bleepity-bleeping bed! And since I’m a lazy person who never, ever, not once in the past 10 years, makes my bed that meant there were graham cracker crumbs IN MY BED.

Guess who was cussing and crying and carrying on around midnight last night?

I woke Elsa up, pissed Mike off and still couldn’t sleep. Finally Mike said he’d get Erik and make Erik sleep with him if I took Elsa into Erik’s bed. So we did a switch off of beds.

This would have been all fine and good, except Elsa was awake and a new bed? Wheeeee! Glow in the dark planets hanging from the ceiling! Wheeeeee! A wall! Double-wheeeeee! So much fun!

A wakey-baby and a supremely pissed off mommy don’t go well together. Thank the lords of Kobol she is a happy baby or I don’t know what we would have done. I tried all my tricks for getting her to sleep, but nothing was working. I even tried to hold her down in a vice grip like we used to do with Erik. She was not a fan and actually cried for three whole seconds (I’m so lucky she’s not a crier). I finally gave in to the inevitable and we stayed up until 1:30 in the bleepity-bleeping morning.

There is a silver lining to this sleepless cloud.

I slept and slept hard for the first time in months. I didn’t have a single nasal issue all night and my back was feeling pretty good when I woke up. The bed in there is about a million times more comfortable than our bed and apparently the room is missing whatever allergen sends my nose in a frenzy every night around 3 am. I have three theories on that:

1) All the craft stuff in my room is making it really dusty and causing problems. Fabric seems to attract a lot of dust.

2) Our room is a lot bigger, thus our humidifier is not as effective as the humidifier in Erik’s room.

3) Erik’s houseplant is doing what it is supposed to do and filtering the air in his room. I bought houseplants for both bedrooms back in September but the one meant for our room is still in the dining room. I should remedy that tonight. Did I mention I’m lazy? Also, I fear our room is so dark that it will kill the plan.

So that was a wonderful night. I hope tonight is better.

Oh, and guess what else went wrong. Aren’t I just the picture of sunshine? I know what’s wrong with me. I just keep telling myself “things will get better in a couple of years. Wait till Elsa is three. Things will get better.”

So what went wrong?

I burned the ever-loving hey-tang out of my tongue. Erik really wanted Valentine cupcakes, so I used some heart thingees and made cupcakes. I hate buttercream and don’t know why people like it, except on sugar cookies were it belongs. It does not belong on cake. Except every other person in the world disagrees and I am left flailing around the internet trying to find a recipe for my grandma’s icing, the only real cake icing (I will accept ganache): seven minute frosting. I’ve tried many, but few have been the right thing. I finally found a great one yesterday and put it up on my sad little cooking blog so I can remember it.

It’s simple, just time consuming. You beat egg whites. You cook up a simple syrup to firm ball stage. You pour the syrup into the egg whites and beat until stiff peaks form. YUM YUM YUM. And hey! No fat.

I made the frosting, threw the scraper into the empty cook pot, frosted the cupcakes, then saw the scraper had some frosting on it. I did what every frosting loving freak does and licked the frosting off.

Only the scraper had been in a pot that was used to boil sugar and water up to 242F. I guess it didn’t cool down. I thought I was going to have to go to the ER because what on earth do you do about a burnt tongue?

I guess tongues kind of self-protect because it stopped hurting like ten thousand hell cats were sitting in my mouth and started hurting like . . . I don’t know. Something less intense. Today my tongue is really rough and hurty and I still can’t believe I licked such a hot scraper thing. I’m glad Erik wasn’t around, begging to lick things.

Ok, gotta go see if my soup is done cooking. I’m supposed to go to a board meeting tonight but I haven’t been feeling that great so I think I’m going to skip it.

We’ve been in a very bad routine, Elsa and I. She would be falling asleep before Erik’s carpool or as soon as we arrived home from dropping Erik at school. She is such a tired, sleepy baby that I would let her sleep.

I know some of you think this is ridiculous, but she sleeps on me. I don’t like it, particularly, but it’s just what we do. The second I lay her in the crib or on my bed she wakes up screaming. It is possible for me to fight it and do some kind of crying it out or whatever, but I’m not interested. I had tons of people tell me that I was ruining Erik’s sleep habits for life and he’d never be able to sleep by himself, yadda yadda yadda*. Guess what? He’s perfectly fine sleeping by himself and going to sleep on his own. We tell him a story, count to 100, say I love you infinity big, wait five minutes, and go out the door. Done deal. He sleeps all night. So I’m not so worried about Elsa sleeping on me as an indication of future behavior. It just screws with my present schedule, but I know it is not a forever thing. Life with a second child is so much easier because I know nothing is a forever thing.

Point of this post? She wants to sleep and I end up not getting any lunch until after we pick Erik up from school (so around 2:45). By that time I’m hungry and grouchy and my mood is shot for the day even if I do get food.

Add that on to an insanely late dinner (because Elsa naps again around 5 and Mike works late every night) and I’ve been a mess.

But this week I have a new deal! Little, sleepy baby has been forced to cry while I throw something on a plate and bring it downstairs. While she sleeps I eat. It’s not the best food but it feeds my belly and I’m not a hungry grouch monster. The afternoons/evenings have been a lot more manageable with a lot less yelling. Amazing the difference food makes. I’ve long known that I have to throw food down Erik’s gullet when he starts getting cranky. About time I figured out I need to eat just as much as he does.

My high school classmates are planning our 20th reunion on facebook. I feel like a total voyeur even looking at it the page, but I was in that class. I suppose I have every right to look at their planing process even if I will never make a comment or even attend the reunion. Those people don’t even know my name, why would I want to go watch them make drunk fools of themselves?

I find the whole thing irksome for some reason I can’t put my finger on. If I was wise I would remove myself from the group and not look at it at all. The reunion won’t be until the summer of 2012 so that’s a long time to let myself get irked!

Ok, better wrap this up. On the agenda today: pick up a book from the library, buy a heart cookie cutter and go to a science playdate. On your advice I let Erik put the karate Valentines in with the other Valentines he made and I picked up a roll of sugar cookie dough. At first I resisted the idea because I love to bake and I am woman, rawr blah blah blah. Plus it was $4 at Giant and I didn’t want to pay that much for a bunch of fake ingredients when I am perfectly capable of making a batch of cookie dough. Then they had it for $2.50 at Safeway, so I knew it was a sign. The kids are just going to lick the frosting off anyway, right?

*I also had several people tell me he’d be fine. I’m glad they were the ones who were right!

I have seen so many friends having trouble with their toddler boys that I have to tell you: It gets better! It really, really does.

Believe me, my dear toddler son was a challenge in every way. Stubborn, spastic, wild. He had it all.

And now that he’s five and three months he is the nicest boy you could ever meet. He tries so hard to be polite and use nice words. He cracks me up with his “I’m so sorry I broke that mommy, I didn’t realize it was fragile.” Or his “I would deserve some water with dinner, mommy.” He has deserve mixed up with want, so that leads to giggles for me.

He tries so very hard to be helpful and often succeeds. He is five, of course, so his idea of helpful is not always my idea, but at this point it really is the thought that counts. He FREAKS out when Elsa has a piece of paper or is getting close to something she shouldn’t have. I’m trying to teach him not to panic.

It was a long, long haul getting to this point. I posted a link on FB that sums up raising toddler boys perfectly. The blogger, someone I’ve been reading since BlogExplosion if you can remember that far back, is a mom of two boys and a former teacher. She knows what she’s talking about.

I so often post the negative because I have a hard time with bragging, but I want you to know: IT GETS BETTER. Is Erik perfect 100% of the time? Of course not. But he’s very civilized and knows how to act and can be lured into good behavior most of the time. He is so eager to please and so bright and shining and just a lovely, lovely human being.

Then we have dear Elsa. She is my delightful baby, but now she’s got a cold. She was up most of the night with a stuffy nose that we just couldn’t help her with. She wanted to nurse but couldn’t nurse and breathe at the same time. It worked a lot better when Mike comforted her since she wasn’t expecting milk from him, but he had to get up early to go to work so we try not to have him stay up all night.

Today I’m going out and buying one of those battery operated snot suckers. I hope it really works. I was so desperate last night that I almost did as Penelope Leach advises and sucked it out with my mouth. But ewwww. I would do just about anything for my baby or for my sleep, but unless she’s dying I’m not going to be sucking the snot out with my mouth.

Guess what? I found something she likes to eat (other than applesauce!). Polenta! Really, really bad polenta.

I’ve had polenta exactly once in my life, way back in 2004 before we moved to DC. At the time I’d never heard of it and didn’t know what it was, but it came on my plate at a fancy restaurant in Half Moon Bay. I didn’t want to try it, but gosh darnit, I was at a fancy restaurant in Half Moon Bay. I couldn’t turn my nose up at it just because I didn’t know what it was. And it was totally delicious.

I’ve been dreaming about polenta ever since, but it seemed beyond the scope of my cooking skills because I didn’t even know what it was. Then I saw Anne Burrell make it on Secrets of Restaurant Chef. I love Anne Burrell. I decided to give it a try, but made the rookie mistake of buying “instant” instead of long cooking. It was the only polenta I could find in the grocery store, so I don’t blame myself too much.

Anyway, it was disgusting. Flavorless (because it didn’t boil long enough I guess), goopy, lumpy. GROSS.

Elsa loved it. I put some on her tray because I figured she couldn’t choke on it and she ate it up.

Here’s a record of foods Elsa has swallowed in her life :
Banana slices
wide variety of apple based baby food
frozen peas
apple flavored Puffs
polenta

There’s a book Erik sometimes likes called The Seven Silly Eaters about this lady who has seven kids and each kid will only eat one type of food. One kid will only eat homemade applesauce. I always thought it was just a silly joke, but DUDE. I have that child.

The other day I thought it would be a good idea to turn her little car/pusher thing into a pusher so she could practice walking. She loves it. She is so proud of herself as she zooms all over the house, not paying a lick of attention to where she’s going. It’s only a matter of time before she walks. I give it days, if not hours.

The only problem? Erik steals it from her and zooms all over, forcing her to crawl after him. It’s fine and everyone is happy so it’s not a “problem.” Everyone is right–it’s nice to have two so they can entertain each other.

And now I have to wake a napping baby so I can get some clothes on so I can get boy from school. He has homework this week and we have been instructed not to do it for them. The teacher even gave me the stink eye.

Last time they had homework I did part of Erik’s. I know. Bad! But it’s preschool.

Last time the homework was a picture of a ball cap that they were supposed to decorate. Then they were supposed to write one word describing where they would wear the ball cap.

Erik wanted his cap to be solid green. Oh. My. Lord. Trying to get that boy to focus to color something a solid green was nearly impossible. Plus, he isn’t really great at figuring out how to color something that large a solid color (there were lots of white spaces) and he was getting really upset.

He trashed the first one. I made a copy of the cap. He trashed the second one. He was getting hysterical because he couldn’t get it how he wanted, even though I showed him how to use the marker sort of sideways to fill it in nicely.

In the end I colored the cap. So sue me. I didn’t see the point in having a hysterical five year old color in a big block of white. They were allowed to use stickers, glitter, basically whatever they wanted. So why couldn’t he have his mommy color it? I did make him write the word himself. In the end he wrote a whole sentence “I will wear the cap when I ride my scooter.” (I wrote it on a paper and he copied, which is what the teacher suggested).

Now he is supposed to think of a community service worker and draw on the uniform and write what the community service worker wears and uses. He wants to do a trash man. He was really mad that I didn’t know what kind of uniform a trash man wears. I know gloves, but that’s about it. I guess I should look that up before he comes home this afternoon.

Does it go without saying that I think homework for preschool is absolutely ridiculous? Kindergarten is going to be interesting next year. I don’t know how the teacher do it in this district, there is such a disparity between the haves and have nots.

I actually have something serious to say. Not anything long and laborious, but something beyond my usual inane rambles.

I know, as in intellectually understand, that the USA is a white man’s world. I’ve seen racism happen. I’ve been guilty of thinking things I didn’t want to think. I would hope that I am a more enlightened person than I was ten years ago or even a year ago or even a month ago. I continually strive to improve myself and my attitudes and learn new things about how the world works. I am a fan of progress and change if it means it helps people live a better life.

Last year my black friend was complaining because she picked up her kid’s birthday cake and it had a white kid in the decorations. She wasn’t mad, just grumpy. She wished her son would have had a birthday kid on the cake that looked like him. I get it.

So today I was going shopping for a new baby gift and card. Almost every single baby card had a picture of a little white, baldish/blonde baby. I found ONE card that didn’t have a picture of a baby at all. I wasn’t at a store with a great selection, but still. They couldn’t have had one card with a cute little brown baby? The card is for my Indian neighbor. I bought the card with no baby picture because it would have been weird to buy a card with a typical white Gerber baby. I don’t know if they would have been offended, but it just would have felt stupid to me because it is not an accurate representation of their baby.

I also need to get a gift for my cousin, who recently adopted a toddler from Korea. I am way, way behind in doing this because they don’t need or want clothes and I wanted to do something special. I was thinking of getting her a doll, but guess what? Either I don’t know how to search or it is next to impossible to find an Asian based baby doll*. I live in a hugely diverse area so I thought maybe I could pick something up at the store, but I had zero luck.

I have a baby doll quilt already made that just needs a binding, so I thought about giving that to her but then I looked at all the dolls and they were all vintage blondes with super pale skin. I think there might have been a brunette, but her skin was paper white as well.

I know most of you are going DUH! Obviously I have heard these complaints before and knew it was a problem, but I’ve never personally been on a quest to buy a product for a child of color and didn’t realize just how frustrating it really was. When do you compromise? Why should they or their parents have to compromise?

I don’t know what to do about any of this and I am certainly not writing anything you didn’t already know, but that’s what I’ve been thinking about today. It just really sucks and I wish there wasn’t such a thing as white privilege. I know I benefit from it every day in ways I can’t even imagine.

Related: anyone have a super simple quilt idea that is special and possibly Korean related, but could be completed with very little work? I’m thinking strip piecing.

Also, who has a book recommendation for a picture book that explains evolution to a five year old?

We finally got our book order today with three books I’ve been wanting. A Better Homes and Gardens low fat cookbook, the newest Carol Berg and the newest Katherine Kerr. Now I need to find a low cholesterol** crock-pot cookbook. With Mike getting home at 7 pm or later and the kids going insane right around 5 pm until he gets home, our dinner time is becoming unacceptable. I’m way too tired to cook by the time he gets home and I’m usually cranky, too boot.

*Turns out I didn’t know how to search. I don’t know why I couldn’t find any the other day, but I found several just now.

**The doctor told him to go vegan, but he is not giving up his meat. I am eliminating dairy as much as possible, along with eggs. The majority of my recipes rely on cheese or sour cream, so it is quite an adjustment. I am really glad that I can use olive oil. The first cookbook I was using didn’t use any fat other than baking spray and it was killing me.

*Elsa is better! I hate taking my kids to the doctor. Hate it. Nothing is ever wrong. I’m glad nothing is ever wrong and I’m very, very, very, very happy Elsa doesn’t have to be cath’d, but I’m mad at myself for taking her and wasting all that time. I should have waited another day. How long do you wait with a fever that has no other symptoms? I waited three days.

*I can’t remember how we kept Erik out of the garbage. Our lid latch thing is broken so perhaps we just need a new lid. I don’t know. Elsa won’t eat real food, but I caught her happily snacking on onion skins from the garbage. Dandy.

*I went out and got a bunch of childproofing stuff, but can’t figure out how to keep the oven door closed. She pulled it open the other day. Very, very scary. She’s a lot bigger and taller than Erik, which makes things a little different. Also, Erik was repelled by heat and she seeks it out. The boy still takes a cold shower and it drives me nuts. Still eats frozen meatballs and chicken nuggets. Still likes to be naked because clothes are too hot. Strange little Viking boy. I put him in Elsa’s bath after she was done the other night and he started screaming bloody murder because it was burning him. It was barely luke warm.

*I put a hold on our MOMS Club book club book so one of these years I need to get to the library. The last time I was there I had a crazy thing happen. I always use the self-check machine because I hate waiting in line. I forgot to push “end session” as I was bagging up my books. I heard the machine beep again and turned around to see a lady checking out books. I saw “16 items” so knew there was no way she’d done 16 items. It takes forever because the scanner can be persnickety.

I nicely told her I forgot to push end session and I thought she was checking out books on my account.

She completely ignored me.

I told her again, and pointed out that it said “17 items” as she scanned in her next book and asked if she had really scanned in that many. She told me she was using her own card and it was fine.

Well.

There are times to walk away, and there are times you have to be confrontational. There’s simply no way you can let a stranger check out books on your card. I wouldn’t even let a friend do that (unless it was a house guest and I could keep track of the books).

I told her we needed to check and pushed the end session button myself and it started printing, but she grabbed it and ripped it off before it could finish, jamming the printer.

I was getting angry and a little bit nervous at this point, so I went over and found a librarian and told him what was going on. The lady still refused to acknowledge anything was happening. She got out her card and went to the other machine and started checking out books.

The librarian printed out my list of books and sure enough, two of her books were on the end of my order. I pointed it out and she STILL refused to acknowledge that she had them. The librarian looked through my books, then asked her to look through her books. I guess she was scared of him because she consented. The two books were buried deep down at the bottom. I don’t know if she was just confused, being a jerk, or trying to steal them. Anyway, the librarian took them off my account and all is well. But isn’t that just beyond weird?

*Also weird: my e-mail address apparently has two passwords at Amazon. How is that even possible? We’ve been waiting and waiting for an order and decided to track it. We couldn’t find the e-mail anywhere. We couldn’t find the order on any of our accounts. I knew the order hadn’t been canceled because we’d already received part of it. I finally thought to use all my passwords when logging in, and sure enough. Bam! Two of my passwords work. Looking at the order history, I use both of them equally. I don’t understand.

*One of the books on the order was a Cooking Light cookbook. Thank you Bethany for recommending them! I made a dish from it tonight and it was the first good meal I’ve had since starting the low cholesterol diet (stuffed bell peppers). Someone at work commented that Mike looks like he’s losing weight. I want to cry. He doesn’t have any weight to lose. Maybe if I just ate what he ate I would lose weight. You think? But you know what? I LIKE eating. I guess I like good food better than I like the idea of being skinny. And there’s nothing wrong with that. I read a really good post yesterday about how our society is turning disordered eating into the norm. It made me feel better about myself, at least for awhile.

*Gotta take Erik to bed. Someone please grant me the serenity to tell him a Batman story without crying. Better yet, someone give me some ideas for Batman villains. He doesn’t like me to read books–I have to make up the stories myself and these Batman stories are killing me.

We’ve had a totally insane day. We decided yesterday that we were going to have a good weekend, despite all signs pointing toward total chaos.

Deciding is a great thing, but it doesn’t do a thing for you when circumstances start spiraling out of control.

Elsa still had a fever this morning. I actually took her temp and it was 101.7. Not a tiny little fever to sneeze at after three days of this, but nothing too scary either.

We got in with the doctor and she confirmed that we did the right thing by bringing her in. I am pretty much anti-sick child visits because the only thing they ever say is “it’s a virus, nothing we can do.” Obviously, I am not truly anti-sick child visit. I just don’t find it productive unless the kid is really, really sick or has something like hives (or who knows what, but random ickiness doesn’t seem to require a sick visit).

After an exam, the doctor was left as clueless as me. She has no symptoms other than the fever and she can’t talk yet so there’s just no way to know.

That’s how I left the doctor’s office with a bag taped to my baby’s crotch.

I’d always wondered how they collected urine samples for babies.

Anyway, as soon as the bag had a certain amount of liquid, we transferred it into a sterile cup and took it to the hospital lab. we were told we would just drop it off, but after my last horrible experience at the lab I didn’t quite believe it would be that simple. But we had the specimen! And the orders! Surely it should be simple.

This was happening at noon, so I should have been smart and brought snacks. Instead, our big plan was to go out to lunch after we dropped the specimen at the lab.

The volunteers at the information desk no nothing. They sent me straight up to the lab. Guess what? We had to register. This is a painfully slow process that makes me want to scratch someone’s eyes out.

An hour later and we were on our way. We were all starving and snapping at each other. Erik had a birthday party at 3 so we were feeling a bit of a time crunch. I did have the foresight to bring the gift and a cape, but he really wanted to wear his Indiana Jones costume (it was a costume party) and was not happy that we might not have time to get to it.

We ate at an Italian place called Mama Lucia. Apparently one of Mike’s super picky co-workers says this is one of the only acceptable eating establishments in the DC metro area. The man clearly has something wrong with his taste buds because it was the most disgusting meal I’ve ever eaten. I felt like the recruits from Worst Cooks in America had prepared the meal and I was supposed to judge them. I had plenty of comments from the salad dressing to the marinara. The chicken was overcooked, the sauce was a broth, the marinara was greasy. Ewwww. It was inedible. I pushed my plate aside and when the waiter asked I told him I couldn’t eat it, it was so bad. I know I’m a big complainer on here, but I’m not a big complainer in person (unless you’re my husband or my mother). I’ve never complained about a meal before. I’m glad I did, though, because they took it off the bill. Mike said his meal was fine, but we won’t be adding Mama Lucia’s to our rotation.

Also, the restaurant was not crowded, but they sat us right behind a group of 15 old people having some kind of party. They were LOUD and I was cranky and hungry. It was very cramped and just not a pleasant environment at all.

Luckily we had just enough time to get home, get Erik into his Indiana Jones costume and get him to the party. We were only a few minutes late. It was a drop-off party, so I had an hour to myself! Except for the sick baby, of course.

The lab was supposed to call the doctor with the results, but they never did. Eventually I called the doctor to remind her (she asked me to do so) and she found out they hadn’t processed the sample yet. Once they looked at it they decided the results were inconclusive. If positive, we were supposed to go to the ER to get a cath and some antibiotics. Why the cath? I don’t know.

Our current status is hurry up and wait. If the fever gets above 103 we’re supposed to go to the ER and get her cath’d. I guess taping a bag to your crotch doesn’t give a very clean sample.

If it doesn’t spike to 103, we’re supposed to hold tight until Monday. Hopefully it is just a virus that will pass, but if not they will cath her at the office on Monday. Please, please, please hope for a passing virus. And please don’t tell me you’ll pray for her. I know you mean well, but I find it irritating since I don’t believe in God and if I did I think he should be helping people who are a lot worse off than a feverish first world baby. I sent out my MOMS Club newsletter with a lot less content as usual, with an explanation that I just didn’t have time to do more because of Elsa. A lot of the ladies e-mailed back that they were praying for her. I appreciate it. I do. I understand that’s their thing and they really think it will help. It still rubs me the wrong way. I would never tell them that, of course. They are just being nice. Maybe some day I will share my religious beliefs with them, but it is not on my short term agenda.

And that’s that. My laptop is about out of battery.