Evolution

When it comes to playdates, 2 kids + 2 kids + 2 kids + 1 kid does not seem to equal 7.  It seems to equal more like 12.  My best girls (minus one) and I got together over the weekend with our kids, and whew!  I was more exhausted than I've been in some time by the end of that fun-filled day.

We used to get together and sip cocktails on rooftop decks, or sit at favorite bars with beers and wings.  We used loiter around one another's kitchen islands sipping wine and gossiping or griping about our busy lives.  We used to strive to out-do one another with our culinary prowess at our frequent gatherings.  We often got tipsy and silly.  We always had fun.

These days, however, our reunions have taken on a different sort of madness.  This visit, we inflated and later deflated bouncy houses, found Thomas the Tank Engine band-aids for wounded feet, mediated toy wars,  applied several coats of sunscreen, fed Cherrios, pizza, and watermelon (and hopefully not too much grass) to tiny mouths as well as to our own, and even uttered the phrase we said we'd never say: "because I said so."  We began conversations only to be interrupted, and maybe finished a few.  But we still had fun.

And I know we all look forward to the day when we will again be able to sit around, sipping our wine, finishing conversations, and remembering these crazy days, and those that came before.

'Life is short but sweet for certain.' DMB

Before.  Out.  At a bar. Drinking.  Circa 2007

After.  In a backyard. Chasing small humans.  Summer 2010.

Sunny Side Up

So you've heard about the massive egg recall?  Apparently most of the eggs in the country's grocery stores come from like 3 different huge factory chicken farms.  One of these farm's eggs are tainted with salmonella, hence a recall of about a third of the eggs nationwide.  The tainted eggs are sold under tons of different labels/brands, but they all come from the same (sick, cruel, and dirty) factory farm.  (At least this is what I've gathered from half listening to the news on NPR lately- don't quote me on the details.)  So I heard a news commentator saying how people are "scared" of where their food comes from, and they "can't trust" the producers or the government to regulate.  Well, duh!  They should be scared!  Have you noticed that grocery store eggs come with numbers printed on them now!  On eggs!

And I find myself thinking...I can trust my eggs, because I know where they come from.  When I'm lucky enough to have my parents deliver a few dozen when they come to visit, well I definitely know those chickens and trust where those eggs come from.  And when we run out (though it takes awhile, because I hoard those delicious eggs, with their golden-orange yolks), I go to the Farmer's Market, and I get eggs from a woman who herself takes care of the chickens.  I'll keep doing this until we get our own hens (which I hope is in the not-too-distant future).

This salmonella outbreak is just another example of why we should be eating locally, from small farms.  If we were doing this, then first of all the chickens wouldn't be stuffed into a filthy factory farm where disease runs rampant.  And if, by chance, one of the small farms did produce contaminated eggs, only a small number of people would be affected.  I feel like Mother Nature keeps giving us lessons in why & how the status quo isn't working (like say, this egg recall, or the Gulf oil spill).  When are the masses going to wake up and smell the coffee? Or is everyone going to keep on drinking the Kool-Aid?

The view from here

Zoos are for kids, right? I mean sure, adults enjoy strolling around and paying $5 for a lemonade, but a zoo's primary function is to educate and entertain kids, right?

I took the kids to the zoo this morning (let me take this opportunity to congratulate myself for wrangling both kiddos all by myself- I was afraid, but I did it!). I packed 'em both into our new double stroller and we rolled on to our safari. We arrived at the zebra paddock, and I asked Jack if he could see the zebras. Um, no. He could not. The split log fence was built at the perfect height to block any view from the stroller. So I unbuckled him and hoisted him onto my hip. "Oh- zee-ra!" he said.

As we passed the elephant compound I excitedly asked Jack if he could tell me what the elephants were doing. Nope, he couldn't. Again, the damn fence was blocking his view. So I unbuckled him again and lifted him up to see.

Then we went on to see the turtles, giraffes, seals, et cetera, et cetera. Rinse, lather, repeat. Who ever designed that park was not thinking too much about the intended audience. My back hurts.

Puddle jumping

Having a toddler has taught me many lessons. But the one I return to again and again is that often we need to be taught how to play. When I introduced Jack to play dough, I plopped the play dough onto his highchair tray and watched. He watched me back. It dawned on me that he had no idea what to do with this green lump. So I sat down and taught him how to poke it, smash it, and roll it into snakes. (He tried to show me how to eat it, but I was too smart for that.) Now, just a few play dough sessions later, he's a pro and can entertain himself for a good 15 minutes. He still eats it though. At least I got him to stop stuffing it into his ear.

So today, I taught Jack how to jump in puddles. Granted, there wasn't much teaching required, since I think kids have a natural inclination to stomp and bounce in any standing water they encounter. Still, it was a delight to watch him as he realized that I was going to let him get wet, and cheer as he slapped that puddle with his new rain boots. This was a concrete puddle (in the street, no less. I took my kid to play in the middle of the road! I know! I know! At least we live on a Dead End). I'm leaving the mud puddle for a different day.

Time Management

My first day home alone with both kids was rainy and dreary. The kind of day where you don't really want to go anywhere anyway, and you wind up wearing your pajamas all day. Jack, keeping to his new-but-welcomed streak of sleeping "late", woke around 6:30am, though Maggie had been snergulling since about 5am keeping us both up. This was the day of Jack's First Playdate. We were scheduled to show up at little Maeve's house between 8:30am-8:45am. Now when Maeve's mom first suggested the 15-minute window I found myself thinking, 'That's so imprecise, what time should we really arrive? Should we arrive at 8:30 to be timely, or somewhere in the middle of the window so as not to seem too eager? Would it be rude to be there promptly at 8:30? Maybe we should leave at 8:27 so that we will arrive in the first half of the window.' Et cetera, et cetera. The thought of arriving at the end of the window never occurred to me.

Well, as we rolled around downstairs in our pajamas this morning, amidst the chaos of our half-emptied bags from the weekend trip, I sipped my coffee slowly and read my email while Maggie snoozed in her chair and Jack sat on my lap and colored with his new crayons ('On the paper, Jack, not the table'). I glanced at the clock an suddenly realized that it was 8:10am- no one was dressed or anywhere close to ready. I jumped up and changed diapers, dressed us all, packed a diaper bag, located the lost piece of paper with Maeve & Barbara's address, and loaded us all into the car. It was 8:33am.

Of course there was no street sign. So I passed their street the first time. I turned around and guessed on my second pass by, and finally located their house. I parked, and looked at the clock: 8:49am. Ummmmm. Whoops? So much for my plans to leave precisely at 8:27am.

So, as it turns, I think I get the time window. In fact, I think I'll embrace the time window from now on. Unfortunately we were still late. But only by 4 minutes.