While Mike was busy in Orkney rubbing elbows with Sir Peter Maxwell Davies and writing music feverishly, (or maybe writing feverish music?), we stayed put and had our own fun. First, Nanny and Papa crossed the bridge into the U.S. to come help me with the girls for a week. We were treated to live folk music in the livingroom and hot meals on the table every night. While I slaved away at work, the girls got to accompany Nanny and Papa to Starbucks every morning for yummy snacks. Unfortunately, we sent Papa home with pneumonia, which landed him in the hospital for an evening, and bed for a few more.
Two full, wonderful days alone with my girls (all play, no work!), and I was ready for Grandma to visit. She arrived armed with new dvd's and orange cake, and then took the girls to the park, to the museum, and out for walks so I could nap. On the hottest day, she convinced me to go buy a sprinkler, which was a hit in the backyard. All the neighbors came out to play when they heard Nourit and Avi shrieking in the water, which led to the inflation of the Bennett's HUGE pool, and another hour of fun for 7 kids in the backyard. Going back inside, I found Grandma just finishing a two-hour cleaning frenzy. God bless Grandparents!
We waved goodbye to grandma, and a few hours later met Mike at the airport. Nourit wanted to wear her special flowered dress, cupcake shoes, and butterfly ring to meet him. I think she has a crush on her daddy! (About those cupcake shoes...I was horrified when she latched onto them at Target, and I tried to talk her out of them. Now, I can see how special she feels when she wears them. They're not so horrible to me anymore...) The next morning, we piled into the car and drove to Kentucky for the first time to see Grandpa. We received a warm welcome, and had fun touring the area, splashing in the pool Grandpa bought just for the girls, and playing ball with the neighbor and his dog. Nourit asked if we could stay for five more weeks, and was sad to leave. It's good to have Grandparents!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Nourit's Second Dance Class
Normal parents keep track of children's 'firsts'. I'm too late for that. Here is a picture of Nourit before her second dance class, at the Hyde Park School of Dance. After trying two other dance classes that were a little too old for her, or had too little music, I think we finally found the right fit. The first day was almost our last, though. After waking Nourit from a nap to go, she screamed and cried, unwilling to go happily. But when we arrived, the excitement of her friend Zara rubbed off on her cute little leotarded and slippered self, and she was soon moving around the rehearsal hall with the teacher and about 15 other pink-clad preschoolers, to music played by a flesh and blood pianist.
I haven't seen anything as cute as that first day of creative movement class, with little girls all very seriously pretending to be animals and flowers and ballerinas. Unfortunately (or fortunately for the teacher!), the parents are now banned to the adjoining room, while the little 3 and 4 year olds leap and twirl autonomously for 30 minutes a week.
When asked what she did during her second class, Nourit replied dismissively, "Oh, I don't remember."
Us: "Did you dance like animals?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Did you spin and jump and twirl?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher nice, and was everyone having fun?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher horribly mean?"
Her: "Yes!" (with a grin.)
Us: "Were the kids all crying and everyone wanted to go home?"
Her: "Yes!" (more grinning.)
Us: "Did the piano player push over the piano, and did everyone stomp around?"
Her: "Yes!"
And so, I think it was a success, and that she will return willingly for the next few weeks. However, and yet again, I am just not ready for this little independent streak showing up before she is an actual teenager. She's not ready for a secret life, yet! (Or, at least I'm not ready...)
~~~~
Post Script - Week Three
Now weeks one, two AND three have successfully passed, and I told Nourit that next Tuesday would be her last dance class. "UNLESS, you want me to sign you up for next session," I said hopefully. "No," she said. "I'd rather stay home."
Well, I guess that means home is a nice place to be, right? Let's hope she still says that when she's 16!
I haven't seen anything as cute as that first day of creative movement class, with little girls all very seriously pretending to be animals and flowers and ballerinas. Unfortunately (or fortunately for the teacher!), the parents are now banned to the adjoining room, while the little 3 and 4 year olds leap and twirl autonomously for 30 minutes a week.
When asked what she did during her second class, Nourit replied dismissively, "Oh, I don't remember."
Us: "Did you dance like animals?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Did you spin and jump and twirl?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher nice, and was everyone having fun?"
Her: "No."
Us: "Was the teacher horribly mean?"
Her: "Yes!" (with a grin.)
Us: "Were the kids all crying and everyone wanted to go home?"
Her: "Yes!" (more grinning.)
Us: "Did the piano player push over the piano, and did everyone stomp around?"
Her: "Yes!"
And so, I think it was a success, and that she will return willingly for the next few weeks. However, and yet again, I am just not ready for this little independent streak showing up before she is an actual teenager. She's not ready for a secret life, yet! (Or, at least I'm not ready...)
~~~~
Post Script - Week Three
Now weeks one, two AND three have successfully passed, and I told Nourit that next Tuesday would be her last dance class. "UNLESS, you want me to sign you up for next session," I said hopefully. "No," she said. "I'd rather stay home."
Well, I guess that means home is a nice place to be, right? Let's hope she still says that when she's 16!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Timing is Everything
Why do we continually get nervous about our lives and our futures? We keep experiencing God's provision for us, and yet there is still a feeling of uncertainty whenever things are about to change. I sort of think that's because God waits until the last possible moment to let us know how the next chapter in our life will begin. Time and again, we've waited for the answer, it doesn't come in time for me to be comfortable, but we step out in faith and voila, He answers and the stars align. (Figuratively, of course!)
His timing, though, is right on, not only for our life, but for everyone who intersects with us, it seems. Just when we needed a good babysitter (or two!), Jessica came into our lives, needing job. When our lives got crazy, her schedule lightened up, and she was there to help us the many last-minute times we needed an extra 'parent' this year. Now, she is leaving (sniff), graduating from college and heading out into an exciting new career. Amy (our other wonderful sitter) is leaving this week, too. What are we going to do for daycare? NOTHING! Because, in God's unique timing, we were hired as Resident Heads, and I will be able to stay home with the girls full-time. What about my job? It's coming to a natural end, with funding running out since the grant I manage was not renewed. Things are falling into place.
Another intersection, even though it seems small, just concluded seamlessly. We desperately needed help cleaning in the middle of the year, and one young woman needed to work while waiting for a real job in the architecture world. Just as we are getting to the point we can manage it on our own, she gets two job offers. Noone loses, everyone wins! (But this means I will be cleaning the toilet again. Okay, I guess I lose a little bit...)
So, slowly, or quickly, or however you want to look at it, we are checking some of the 'unknowns' off our list, moving them into the 'known' category.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
My Shitty Monday Evening
I try not to swear too often, and usually reserve the 'S' word for stubbing my toe, or particularly bad news. But here I mean it in the literal sense - we had a very shitty evening last night.
I need to preface this by saying we have had a long, arduous journey getting our now 3 year old to poop regularly. As early as 6 months, she would wait 3 weeks to poop, but the doctor said she was fine. After a couple years, a lot of tears, and a few posts about it, we're finally at the point where she goes semi-regularly, sans suppository. We're not neglectful parents. We feed her so much fiber, and so little animal, that I cannot understand why it's turned out this way. She starts the day with ground-up flaxseed in her yogurt, we force her to chug prune juice, and we are a die-hard dried fruit eating family. It doesn't add up.
Anyway, last night around dinner time (of black beans and sweet potato, no less), I noticed she was acting funny, doing her little dance, and saying her tummy hurt. No amount of cajoling would get her to sit on the potty. That's when I had to put her there by force. Meanwhile, Avi (who has nooooo problem pooping 2-3 times a day), is stuck in her highchair, screaming like a banshee, and emptying the contents of her bowl on her head. Screams are coming from Nourit as I force a suppository up her bum (oh, the joys of motherhood), and from Avi as I'm neglecting her. Finally, Nourit poops, we flush and wash, and she assumes the couch potato position while I put in an opera for her to watch. (Yes, we bribe our kids with opera dvds.)
Back to Avi, to wash off all the bean crud from her hands and head, then back to Nourit who is still looking like she's in pain (and it's not from the Queen of the Night's high notes.) Back to the potty, tears streaming down her little 3 year old face (and nearly on mine.) Another HUGE poop, which, incidentally, is too big to flush down and comes back up. I flush a second time.
At this point, I decide to dunk these children in a warm, calming bubble bath, which seems to do the trick. Halfway through, Avi looks like she could do her duty, so I carry her, dripping, over to Nourit's potty seat. We are definitely not potty training her at this age, but I know she has fun when she gets to walk in Nourit's shoes (or sit in Nourit's potty seat!) She makes some fake grunting noises and faces, then motions back to the tub, so back she goes. Then, Nourit is ready to come out first, so I get her into pajamas and brush her teeth while Avi continues to splash and make little tooting noises. But wait, those aren't toots. SHE POOPED IN THE BATHTUB! My freshly scrubbed bathtub! (The cleaning lady had left only hours before.) Yuck! Not only that, the tub is having trouble draining, and the plumber hadn't come to fix it yet. Double yuck!
Somehow, I get both children, clean and warm, into bed and to sleep. I wash the tub as best I can, and dump half a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bottom. Mike comes home from his meeting, we quickly swap stories, and I sit down to work on my lesson plan for Music Together. I say to Mike that our house still smells faintly of poop, thinking it's just a holdover from the evening's activities. I go in Nourit's room to kiss her goodnight, and realize she pooped in her pajamas while she slept. We drag her out of bed to clean her up, and as I flush that final nugget down the toilet, it overflows. Right onto the freshly mopped floor.
Epilogue: I put a huge load of towels and poopy underpants in the washer with double detergent, and re-mop the bathroom floor. Finally, my pajamas are on, my contacts are out, and my teeth are brushed (but I can't use the toilet because Mike hasn't plunged it yet.) I stumble out of the bathroom to make that request, only to stub my toe on the toy car that's in the middle of the hallway. "Wheeeee, let's go for a ride!" a warped woman's voice screeches as I dive for the Off button. Shit!
I need to preface this by saying we have had a long, arduous journey getting our now 3 year old to poop regularly. As early as 6 months, she would wait 3 weeks to poop, but the doctor said she was fine. After a couple years, a lot of tears, and a few posts about it, we're finally at the point where she goes semi-regularly, sans suppository. We're not neglectful parents. We feed her so much fiber, and so little animal, that I cannot understand why it's turned out this way. She starts the day with ground-up flaxseed in her yogurt, we force her to chug prune juice, and we are a die-hard dried fruit eating family. It doesn't add up.
Anyway, last night around dinner time (of black beans and sweet potato, no less), I noticed she was acting funny, doing her little dance, and saying her tummy hurt. No amount of cajoling would get her to sit on the potty. That's when I had to put her there by force. Meanwhile, Avi (who has nooooo problem pooping 2-3 times a day), is stuck in her highchair, screaming like a banshee, and emptying the contents of her bowl on her head. Screams are coming from Nourit as I force a suppository up her bum (oh, the joys of motherhood), and from Avi as I'm neglecting her. Finally, Nourit poops, we flush and wash, and she assumes the couch potato position while I put in an opera for her to watch. (Yes, we bribe our kids with opera dvds.)
Back to Avi, to wash off all the bean crud from her hands and head, then back to Nourit who is still looking like she's in pain (and it's not from the Queen of the Night's high notes.) Back to the potty, tears streaming down her little 3 year old face (and nearly on mine.) Another HUGE poop, which, incidentally, is too big to flush down and comes back up. I flush a second time.
At this point, I decide to dunk these children in a warm, calming bubble bath, which seems to do the trick. Halfway through, Avi looks like she could do her duty, so I carry her, dripping, over to Nourit's potty seat. We are definitely not potty training her at this age, but I know she has fun when she gets to walk in Nourit's shoes (or sit in Nourit's potty seat!) She makes some fake grunting noises and faces, then motions back to the tub, so back she goes. Then, Nourit is ready to come out first, so I get her into pajamas and brush her teeth while Avi continues to splash and make little tooting noises. But wait, those aren't toots. SHE POOPED IN THE BATHTUB! My freshly scrubbed bathtub! (The cleaning lady had left only hours before.) Yuck! Not only that, the tub is having trouble draining, and the plumber hadn't come to fix it yet. Double yuck!
Somehow, I get both children, clean and warm, into bed and to sleep. I wash the tub as best I can, and dump half a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the bottom. Mike comes home from his meeting, we quickly swap stories, and I sit down to work on my lesson plan for Music Together. I say to Mike that our house still smells faintly of poop, thinking it's just a holdover from the evening's activities. I go in Nourit's room to kiss her goodnight, and realize she pooped in her pajamas while she slept. We drag her out of bed to clean her up, and as I flush that final nugget down the toilet, it overflows. Right onto the freshly mopped floor.
Epilogue: I put a huge load of towels and poopy underpants in the washer with double detergent, and re-mop the bathroom floor. Finally, my pajamas are on, my contacts are out, and my teeth are brushed (but I can't use the toilet because Mike hasn't plunged it yet.) I stumble out of the bathroom to make that request, only to stub my toe on the toy car that's in the middle of the hallway. "Wheeeee, let's go for a ride!" a warped woman's voice screeches as I dive for the Off button. Shit!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
In the Company of Wise and Wonderful Women
As I drove up the highway today, Lake Michigan on my right, and the city straight in front of me, I smiled to myself and thought, " How nice to receive an invitation to a party!" I think there is still this wonder of being included that has hung over from my high school days, when I would feel so special to be invited out with the "cool girls" from time to time. Anyway, I left the party today so grateful for this fortuitous chance to meet and mingle with such talented and thoughtful women. All of them are moms. All of them write about their experiences borne out of motherhood. And yet, they are so much more than that. Just listening to the readings today, ones that made my heart ache and my mouth laugh simultaneously, I really felt that I was in the company of women with such depth and creativity. From a comparison of the first day of high school to a Seraut painting, to the description of a moon that sipped on the sun and overflowed into startlight, to the minivan as staging area for an induction into crone-hood, I am inspired by these writers to dig deeper into myself, to nurture my creative spirit as I nurture my own children.
I love parties, but I always feel a little "buzzy" when I leave, (and that has nothing to do with the mimosas!) It seems to me a little like speed dating (although I think I was married long before that became popular.) There are all these people that I want to meet, want to talk to, hear their stories, and connect with, all within a 2-3 hour span. It's amazing how you can really come to care about another person, just from reading their prose over a year, whether you have met them once, twice, or not at all. We need to have a mommy blogger camp. One week of writing and conversation, out in the wilderness somewhere. (And definitely invite Virginia along. What a fantastic massage!)
In addition to the conversation blitzes, there is also food. Yummy food. And I am not one who is afraid to eat at a party. (I once worked for a very elegant woman who refused to eat at our donor parties. She was afraid of getting spinach stuck in her teeth, I guess.) I wanted to try everything - the cheese, crackers and nuts from Pastoral, the jam from the Jane Addams Hull House, and of course, the cheesecake from Eli's. The problem is, I really couldn't focus on my food as much as my foodie husband would have liked. I heard him whispering in my conscience, "Think about the food while you are tasting it. What flavors are present?" I just know the cheese was delicious, and that I need to make an exclusive trip to Pastoral and the Hull House to try more of what they offer. That is on my summer list of to-do's. Now, back to the party-goers.
The craziest part of the day? Walking in and meeting a woman I went to high-school with, 17 some years ago. I have horrible face-memory. (Recently, Mike and I went to a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and some other guy. I leaned over to Mike and whispered, too loudly, "Who is that guy??" I got a glare and a quiet answer, "That's Joaquin Phoenix, Liz.") Of course! It felt the same as I was introduced to Melanie, and I smiled, no idea that she already knew who I was. But as soon as Melanie started talking, the years dropped away and I recognized the girl I had spent 3 years of high school with. Now, I can't wait to get to know her as an adult. Crazy, small world!
****
Driving home, I realized how strange it felt to be out without my girls. They are such a part of me, and are usually with me, almost like two extra appendages. It was good to get away, to celebrate woman-hood and not just mommy-hood. But it also felt wonderful walking in the door to a chorus of "Mama! Did you miss us?"
I love parties, but I always feel a little "buzzy" when I leave, (and that has nothing to do with the mimosas!) It seems to me a little like speed dating (although I think I was married long before that became popular.) There are all these people that I want to meet, want to talk to, hear their stories, and connect with, all within a 2-3 hour span. It's amazing how you can really come to care about another person, just from reading their prose over a year, whether you have met them once, twice, or not at all. We need to have a mommy blogger camp. One week of writing and conversation, out in the wilderness somewhere. (And definitely invite Virginia along. What a fantastic massage!)
In addition to the conversation blitzes, there is also food. Yummy food. And I am not one who is afraid to eat at a party. (I once worked for a very elegant woman who refused to eat at our donor parties. She was afraid of getting spinach stuck in her teeth, I guess.) I wanted to try everything - the cheese, crackers and nuts from Pastoral, the jam from the Jane Addams Hull House, and of course, the cheesecake from Eli's. The problem is, I really couldn't focus on my food as much as my foodie husband would have liked. I heard him whispering in my conscience, "Think about the food while you are tasting it. What flavors are present?" I just know the cheese was delicious, and that I need to make an exclusive trip to Pastoral and the Hull House to try more of what they offer. That is on my summer list of to-do's. Now, back to the party-goers.
The craziest part of the day? Walking in and meeting a woman I went to high-school with, 17 some years ago. I have horrible face-memory. (Recently, Mike and I went to a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and some other guy. I leaned over to Mike and whispered, too loudly, "Who is that guy??" I got a glare and a quiet answer, "That's Joaquin Phoenix, Liz.") Of course! It felt the same as I was introduced to Melanie, and I smiled, no idea that she already knew who I was. But as soon as Melanie started talking, the years dropped away and I recognized the girl I had spent 3 years of high school with. Now, I can't wait to get to know her as an adult. Crazy, small world!
****
Driving home, I realized how strange it felt to be out without my girls. They are such a part of me, and are usually with me, almost like two extra appendages. It was good to get away, to celebrate woman-hood and not just mommy-hood. But it also felt wonderful walking in the door to a chorus of "Mama! Did you miss us?"
Monday, May 18, 2009
Nourit's First Haircut
I finally decided to end the battle for barrettes and have Nourit's hair cut. Just a little bit. In the front.
After, with the same expression. That didn't go away with the chopped locks.
Before, sitting in the barber's chair (aka, Amber's kitchen stool.)
After, with the same expression. That didn't go away with the chopped locks.I Love Hyde Park (and Paris) in the Springtime
There is an abundance of things to do in Hyde Park once Spring arrives. This weekend seemed like the unofficial beginning of Spring here. Not only did the sun come out after the deluge we received on Friday, but all the green events seemed to take place as well. We attended the Hyde Park Plant Sale for the first time in 6 years of living here, welcomed the opening of the 61st Street Market, chatted with our gardening neighbors at our community garden party, and grabbed a cup of tea at Backstory in the middle of it all.
The thing I love most is running into friends and neighbors at these events. While milling around the market, we ran into our neighbors and one of Nourit's best little friends. We then made an impromptu trip with them to campus to attend a carnival - stuffing ourselves with free hotdogs, ice-cream, pretzels and cotton candy, before letting the children loose in the jumping castle. (Note: this is immediately after reveling in the organic-y, local goodness of Backstory and the farmer's market!) Later, we all hung out with a bunch of neighbors and friends in the backyard and grilled together - a perfect ending to a perfect weekend day.
In spite of the random shootings, I really do love 61st Street!
The thing I love most is running into friends and neighbors at these events. While milling around the market, we ran into our neighbors and one of Nourit's best little friends. We then made an impromptu trip with them to campus to attend a carnival - stuffing ourselves with free hotdogs, ice-cream, pretzels and cotton candy, before letting the children loose in the jumping castle. (Note: this is immediately after reveling in the organic-y, local goodness of Backstory and the farmer's market!) Later, we all hung out with a bunch of neighbors and friends in the backyard and grilled together - a perfect ending to a perfect weekend day.
In spite of the random shootings, I really do love 61st Street!
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