I want to remember this conversation

The goodnights in our house are somewhat prolonged by our little chats...

ALN: you know why I love fruit loops?

Me: no, why?

ALN: 1st thing, they are kind of candy-ish

Me: hmm..

ALN: and second thing, they are rainbow-ish.

Me: true

ALN: third thing, I love candy.

Me: me too.

ALN: what come next

Me: 4th

ALN: 4th thing, I love rainbows. Second thing..

Me: 5th, actually

ALN: 5th, I love candies and rainbows,

Me: you know when I first had fruitloops?

ALN: no

Me: well, you know how grandma loves to give you sweets and candy?

ALN: and ice cream too,

Me: yes, well, I have no idea who that lady is, because the lady I grew up with, never gave me any sweets.

ALN: who was that?

Me: grandma.

ALN: my grandma?

ME: yes, well, one day we went to see my grandma, and she gave me a bowl of fruitloops. And I had never had them before because grandma only gave me cheerios, and some moms would put sugar on them, but not mine, and so I had these fruitloops and I loved them, because they were kind of candy-ish and rainbow-ish. And I could tell that my mom didn't like it that my grandma gave me those to eat.

ALN: did she yell at her?

Me: no

ALN: why?

Me (feeling slightly guilty): well, because my grandma was really nice and no one ever yelled at her.

ALN: was that the pink lady?(what we call my grandmother stevens, because she liked pink and red)

Me: no, that was the brown lady (what we call my grandma, to annoy my mom)

Me: the pink lady never had cereal. She always made me the same thing for breakfast and it was the most delicious thing and my favorite thing to eat, and do you know what that was?

ALN: what

Me: a piece of homemade bread with melted butter on it and she would toast it in her toaster oven. With some fresh squeezed orange juice.

ALN: did she make you candy too?

Me: oh yes, peanut brittle and it was delicious, but you don't like peanuts.

ALN(sad, like she's missing out): yeah... but did she make you something else? (hopeful)

Me: oh yes, apple pie.

Then Annabelle informed me that if it ever snowed we needed to have hot cocoa and marshmellows and we decided it was best to get some supplies for the cocoa so in case it did snow, we would be ready.
We said our goodnights and now she may be sleeping and hopefully dreaming of coca and fruit loops.

Far

The school year is going well for Annabelle. Each day I pick her up and her response to my inquiry about her day is "great!" I gather bits and pieces of what they do from watching her play and from the things she says from time to time. She is always on "green" for conduct. If there is a fire, you get in line and do what the teacher says. There are songs, there is art, they are making letters and learning how to say hi in Spanish.

It is kindergarten, lite.

Let me repeat that, it is kindergarten, lite. So I am getting a taste of what is to come next year. Except it won't be three days a week. It will be 5. And there will be, homework, worksheets, sight words and expectations. There won't be time for a "show" after dinner. There won't be one more story. There won't be a blanket clubhouse, yard tennis, and watching football in her papa's lap. It will be Annabelle, lite.

And so more and more, I want to go, far. I want to get an rv, get my children and my favorite chicken, and husband, if he is so inclined, and go where there are no errands, no target, no chick fila, no starbucks. No hurry. No traffic. No school, no ballet, no soccer. Just sky and air. Kids and me. Henny and H, if he is so inclined.

Far.

my thoughts on stuart little

After we finished Pippi, we moved on to Stuart Little. Stuart is impossibly foppish and quite possibly a closeted homosexual. The story seems to be about nothing and I think he is quite horrible to running away from his poor mother, who loved him so. But the thing I cannot forgive him for is his treatment of Harriet Ames. So what if the date didn't go as planned? Just readjust, deal with it, be a good sport. But no, he had a terrible tantrum. And Harriet? She just walked away, like and sensible woman does after a bad date, even 2 inch tall ones.

We are off to Willy Wonka next week.

Things we learn at school and things we figure out on our own

Things we learn at school

Annabelle(incredulous): "mama, did you know that when boys play with each other they hit each other?

Me: I have noticed that

Annabelle: and when the y hit each other, they do it and it is called a punch. Do you know what a punch is? It is when you hit someone with a closed fist. (makes fist)

Me(thinking she needs to be hired by a certain T____ B______ to write some complaints and informations) Really?

Annabelle: yes. that is what they do. Isn't that strange?

Me: yes, truly. And that is why I do not have boys.

Things we figure out on our own

Annabelle: mama, did you know there are 4 types of cows?

Me: no

Annabelle: yes. There are the cows we chop up and get steak from. There are the cows that give us milk. Then there are the cows that give us chocolate milk. And then there are the black and white cows. And they give us--you know

Me: what?

Annabelle: cookies and cream.

call me stella, chicken wrangler

Today, henny penny decided to go and get herself lost. T and I were looking for her all over the yard and Tallulah kept saying "mama, quack quack hiding. are you quack quack?

I had almost given up hope when I decided to do what I do when I lose something. I called my mom and asked her to ask St. Anthony (san antonio, as we call him) to intercede on my behalf. I am not sure if God really cares about something as small as my chickens, especially when he is dealing with Israel and Iran, but soon enough, I hear some scratching.

Turns out, she likes to be under the deck. By now I am dripping in sweat and have dirt all over my jeans.

Because she has a bird brain, she couldn't quite understand that I was trying to get her to come out. And because she is a chicken, she was enjoying digging and scratching under the deck, and didn't seem to care.

Because I am who I am, I kept at it with seeds in my hand until she came out. I am slightly concerned that there is an egg under my deck.

After all of this, I have coined an new Texas colloquialism. I am sure you have heard "sweating like a whore in church." Now, here is mine "sweating like a yuppie chasing chickens."

meet the biddies

This is Henny Penny. She is mine. She rules the roost, so to speak, but she is friendly and affectionate. She follows you around like a dog and eats out of our hands



This is quack quack. She belongs to Tootles. She is second in command and has an inferiority complex which manifests itself in the extreme pecking of Annabelle's hen



This is Fiesta Rose Diddle Diddle Dumpling. She is shy. She likes to chase bugs. She does not come when she is called. The others don't like her. Annabelle thinks it is because she is different and has spent some time trying to teach Henny and Quack-Quack that you can't be mean to someone just because they are different.



This is not tooth decay, it is the remnants of an ice cream sandwich



This is a girl that calls chickens quack quacks. As in "where quack quack, mama?"



Guess what?

Two eggs, so far.

Dear Old Golden Rule Days

After much grinding and gnashing of teeth about where to go, and some gentle persuasion (or arm twisting, depending on how you look at it)on my part, we sent Annabelle off into the world of preK 4 today.

The gnashing of teeth is what the yuppie moms do about school. They agonize over where to send their kids, what will be the best fit, etc. Like it really matters, its preschool, who cares? But you want the good teacher ratios and for your kid to test into Vanguard, so....gnash away.

The gentle persuasion was of the principal. Our Catholic school is a full time program, and I wanted Annabelle to go three consecutive days, not 5. She needs a taste of kindergarten, not the full lunch box. The principal finally agreed like this "I was a stay at home mom for 10 years and it was the best job I ever had--let's do it!"

Speaking of lunchboxes, we chose a Hello Kitty one, but at the last minute a surrogate grandma bought Annabelle a lunch box and thermos--much to the chagrin of the real one..."oh so you let Mrs. Carrabbas buy her one, but not me. She can buy her anything she wants, but I have to ask..." I believe she learned how to dole out guilt trips at Catholic school, but I am hoping they don't teach that anymore.



Did you think I was going to take a normal picture?



Eat your heart out grandma!



sister love

Dan

So Annabelle has this little friend named Dan. He comes over a lot to play. They play in her room and do all sorts of stuff together. Dan is a pretty accomplished kid. He is 9 years old. He is in the second grade. He is a doctor. And in his spare time he is an amateur paleontologist. Sometimes, though, I think Dan is an asshole. Like when he was going to get mad at Annabelle because the cake she made him didn't taste good. What kind of asshole complains about food that someone has made them with love...oh, wait... never mind.

Dan works late sometimes. He is often stuck at the hospital. Sometimes, Annabelle and Dan go places, with me and my friend Stan, who likes what I cook no matter what it is and never gets mad at me.

Tonight, though, we had a situation and I almost had to kick him out. Because I am crazy, which is fine. You see, Dan was under the covers with Annabelle and Annabelle told me that she wanted to be alone with Dan. I found this disturbing and was wondering what they up to and if I was going to have to take her door off of its hinges. But before I went off the deep end, I asked what they were playing. Turns out, Dan was in the hospital. Not at the hospital, but in the hospital. Hmmm.

I am still suspicious of him, though, and Stan and I have decided not to double with them anymore.

15

There is a remarkable lack of courtesy these days and it saddens me. Driving today, I really saw it--when did we stop letting people over when they were signaling? Why don't we smile and wave at people and just let them in? It doesn't make you get where you are going any slower, so why not just let people in? I blame cell phones. We are all so busy with our phones, with texting with ignoring the people in front of us that we simply do not cherish anyone any more.

We are so busy with ourselves that we ignore our children. You see it on the playground, kids falling and hurting themselves and their parents don't even notice it--they are talking. Forget about not just watching them play and having joy in the play, they don't even notice when they are in trouble. The phone controls us--hell, even I have fallen victim to it and I hate my cell phone. When my phone rings poor Tallulah say "phone, phone," like it is something important that I cannot ignore, like it is more important than she is.

The world is too much with us--and in all of this hustle and bustle, in all of this noise, we try to distinguish ourselves in obscene ways. Like tattoos, for instance? Remember when not so long ago the only people who had tattoos were marines and people in motor bike gangs? And then everyone needed to be cool, everyone needed to be different and so everyone got a tattoo. Don't believe me? Just go to Seaworld--where everyone walks around in their swimsuits proudly baring pictures and names that cover large swaths of their bodies. I could see Annabelle staring at them and I didn't know how to explain why she can't have one--why I don't have one, other than to put a judgment on it, which I try not to do.

But why? Why is it ok to not let people over and to have a tattoo of someone's face on your back? Because you can? Because you are free? Because this is the U.S. and we are individuals, and we worship the individuals?

So where does that leave me? Somewhat courteous non-tattooed redhead seeks extremely courteous non-tattooed asian for as long as they both shall live? And in this ordinary, boring way, boring in the way of 23 year olds getting married before they've seen or done anything,and living a dull, ordinary life, did we make what was the old normal, the new unusual?

The tattoo of my life would be a tapestry woven and worn, colorful in some places and bare in others, but always, always, woven, entangled with his name.

Happy 15.

Recent events have me at Texas children's hospital

I am writing this on a borrowed iPad, any typos may be blamed on that instead of my usual carelessness.

Tallulah got sick. And then she got sicker. And then she was a little better and then worse and then the doctors sent us here. That is the short story. She has, depending on which 28 year old resident you talk to, brochiolitis, pneumonia and some lung collapse that is typical of these conditions. She has been poked and probed and deep suctioned. I have been thrown up on--a lot. here are my thoughts:

1. The nurses at Texas children's are special people , especially Candace and Mary. And they will go directly to heaven.

2. The system which allows a different,smart 28 year old without children of their own, to assess my baby's condition is duplicative, tedious and amusing. I have literally had 2 different residents tell me she looked good and terrible within 3 hours of each other. I have also had one ask me if she drank anything while she was sleeping...

3. The medical student from weslaco Texas is the real deal.

4. My real pediatricians are wonderful people and I learned that two of them considered the priesthood, which shows you the patient and caring nature of doctors.

5. Doctors are patient--they take a wait and see approach. Lawyers are not patient and want things done immediately. Stay at home moms are somewhere in between these two extremes, with this one trending toward the lawyer approach. LET'S DO ANOTHER CHEST X-RAY NOW ASSHOLES!

6. When tallulah was born we got a special present from one of her aunts--a hand-knitted blanket. That has gotten her through this whole ordeal, and everyone from the food techs on down to the lowly residents now know this--don't mess with the blanket. It is also covered with vomit, but we don't care.

7. I sleep well here, despite everything that goes on in the evening, which should really illustrate to you, gentle reader, how loud hyphen snores.

8. Hyphen is a great dad. My mom is an awesome mom. Annabelle is a phenomenal big sister and tallulah's godmother was a godsend, she brought me this iPad.

9. Guess what I want for Christmas, besides healthy children?

10. Pray. Pray unceasingly and constantly with fervor in your heart for my child, for your child, for al our children.