The Race

As Kate and I headed down the stairs together she dropped my hand and put an arm across my legs to slow me down. "I'm going to be the winner" she told me. "Oh you are?" I asked, "the winner of what?" she hustled down the stairs in front of me. "It's a race!" she called out over her shoulder. She reached the bottom step and leaped off it, quickly turning around and pointing at me. "I won!" she declared merrily "You're John McCain!"

Why Worry

Back when Kate was born, I worried by the minute that some unseen force would crush her tiny life if I wasn't ever-vigilant. I was constantly checking to make sure she was breathing, which I know is cliche but, while we're on the topic, aren't cliches cliches because they work? Anyway, I did. I hadn't realized that, much like roaches, tiny infants, though easily crushed to death, are otherwise surprisingly resilient. ( No, I did not try putting her in the microwave, it's a limited metaphor, I know.)

The problem was that Kate was a tummy-sleeper from the word go. She liked to nuzzle her breathing apparatus into the mattress with her arms folded under her chest and her diapered aft portion aloft. We call it the Frog Pose. Adorable, yes, but according to the terrifying posters all over the hospital and pediatricians' offices, deadly. Oh, we tried to obey the staunch Back-To-Sleep campaign. We tried, even though, when we were born at the dawn of the 70s it was all about putting us on our tummies, I presume in case we puked because that's how Hendrix died. Then I think there was a Lay Them On Their Sides period which leads us up to today. I guess things will come back around to the stomach because some other genius musician will choke on his own vomit. Or, I don't know, maybe there will be a brief period when you turn them all night on some slow-moving baby spit over an antibacterial humidifier. (Note to self: Invent Baby Spit...call it something that sounds less that the shmutz that oozes from babies' mouths.)

Anyway, Kate's deathwish gave us fits, until we realized she screamed when we put her on her back and slept when we put her on her tummy. Judge all you want, non-kid-having people, but when you haven't slept for 6 weeks you'll do anything too. We also realized she'd sleep if we just left the vacuum cleaner running. For awhile the house was very clean, then the not sleeping for a month and half overcame the utility of the appliance and we just sat in her room and turned it on. I think she slept. If she wasn't sleeping, the noise drowned out her wailing, either way score one for mommy and daddy.

So anyway, we go through all this worry and what not and these days, safely out of the crib death zone, Kate opts to sleep spread eagle on her back like the victim of a drive-by. I haven't seen her sleep on her stomach since it was infant endangerment. Sarah, she's always been pretty good about just staying where she lands...I think...by the time we had the second one we'd stopped worrying...

Here they are, nestled snug in their beds. I know, because I came upstairs before going to bed to make sure they're both still breathing.

Cookies and Ornaments

Since the girls love to bake so much, I decided we'd host a small cookie-baking party for some of their friends. When I mentioned the idea to Cindy she volunteered to host an ornament-making station as well, which I thought sounded perfect. So I kinda got into it. Unable to find invitations I felt were appropriate, I made some. That found me in the scrapbooking aisle at Target, hemming and hawing over the right letters, paper and doodads like I was crafty or something. I really can't explain what motherhood has done to me.

Then I decided I should give each of the 8 kids their own apron as a party favor. Then I decided kids' chef's aprons were overpriced and I should make them. Then the drugs wore off and I decided I should talk Joy into making them; I provided the materials. They are, I must say, adorable. Here's Henry in his Dad's arms, sporting his, which Joy made handsome and dashing instead of somewhat frilly. Interestingly, I originally picked 2 patterns, the stripes, which I loved, and the circles you'll see on Kate. I learned that circles are evidently more feminine than stripes. I always go for the stripes(vertical, so slimming!), so I was surprised. Moving on -




Then I decided we should make eggnog (that job fell to Jeremiah). Then I took further leave of my senses and opted to make all the snacks. Then I learned that Kate's friend Meyonna would be celebrating a birthday the day of the party so I decided I should make her a special cake. I've gone to parties that are not about me on my birthday and it sucked. So, we made it a little bit about her. She was very gracious, I thought.

The dough for the gingerbread men was an unmitigated disaster. Totally un-rollable, much less something you could cut out with cookie cutters. The sugar cookies were just right, though, and baked up into a perfect canvas for young artists. I would display the end results here but they were mostly eaten. And then they ate cake. And they bounced off the walls for awhile.


The ornaments were a smashing success, and very popular. It's hard to tell from this photo, but they made fun shapes from dough consisting of applesauce, Cinnamon and glue. Don't eat that. Kate's pal Catherine was an ornament making machine. A machine I tell you. Sarah could not be bothered. Unlike moi, she's not terribly crafty. Maybe when she has her own kids...

So in summation, the party was fun, the eggnog was gleefully consumed and the ornaments are lovely. Oh, and I think Meyonna had a happy birthday. Let the holidays...begin!

Saturday with The Girls

Here we are decorating the tree (you can't tell here, but the girls were horrid during this part of the day), trashing the playroom and then enjoying some homemade hot cocoa in front of the bee-yoo-tee-ful Christmas/Solstice tree. Note: Kate decided her hair should be curled when she co-hosts the cookie & ornament making party tomorrow. Sarah sort of went for it, too, but, as predicted, decided it was all too unbearable just before bed.

The Big Lie

I admit I feel somewhat ambiguous about teaching my children that there's a guy named Santa who gets their letters and brings them gifts once a year and, most impossibly, lives at the North Pole. It's a straight up lie and that line about him being "the spirit of Christmas" doesn't fly with me. However, I'm into it because the bottom line is - it's fun to believe. I don't recall being devastated when I discovered the truth, I'd long suspected it. I felt that acknowledging the truth about Santa was a right of passage. And so, Jeremiah and I are enthusiastically perpetuating this delightful fiction.

Tonight Kate selected Twas the Night Before Christmas before bed. I always have to explain a good deal of it. "What are coursers?", "What's a thistle?", "What does it mean to dash away?" Sarah, having already heard the book she'd selected (David Smells!) quickly grew disinterested and began climbing the ladder to Kate's bed. As we concluded the classic poem Kate told me what Santa is going to bring her. I asked if she'd been good all year and explained that if she hadn't Santa would be bringing her a lump of coal. During our behavioral modification discussion Kate noticed her sister clamoring into her bed. "NOOOOOOOOO! SARAH GET OUT OF MY BED RIGHT NOW!" she yelled, too close to my ear.

"Yelling at your sister, " I intoned, "will rate you one lump of coal." Before a single instant passed Kate changed her stance, tilted her head all Southern Belle and sweetly revamped her request. "Sarah, " she drawled "will you please get out of my bed? I'd rather you not be in it." Big smile.

The Santa Lie is awesome.

Working from Home

I sat working at my dining room table, where I like to set up shop even though we have a lovely office, when a sweet little mockingbird hopped into view through the French doors. I watched him poke around on the patio a bit, seemingly searching for munchies. Then his bright eyes caught mine. His fluffy chest puffed up a bit as if to say hello and then...a tiny round poo emerged from his backside onto my flagstone. What a shame it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Shark Attack

Tonight Princess Kate and her sister Sarah (who we're told is not a princess despite her blood relation to Princess Kate) arrived home hungry and in the mood for some videos. You would probably expect Princess Kate to request a princess-related movie after dinner, I mean, if you knew her. Enchanted, perhaps? Or maybe one of those computer animated Barbie movies that make me want to impale myself on the nearest pointy thing? Cinderella? No, not Cinderella, but Princess Kate would like to don her Cinderella dress. No, to all of the above. Princess Kate would very much like to watch Fishing With John. Specifically, the first episode in which John Lurie and Jim Jarmusch catch a shark. Princesses, you see, have a real appreciation for parodies of fishing shows.