Tuesday, April 22, 2008

It's Random Photo Tuesday! It's Random Photo Tuesday!

Today is April 22, which by my calculations means that Spring should be springing. But it's not. And since most of the country is collectively complaining about that, I won't harp. I sure would love a little sweet warm sunshine though.

There is a tree in my yard that didn't get the memo about the eezing-fra emperatures-tay. And it's making the view from my bathroom quite nice. Also I can see this from my side of the bed, so it's a cheery little thing to wake up to. I thought I would share something sweet and pretty, as I seem to have scared everyone off recently.



Off to put on my PARKA and head outside.

~Clover

Monday, April 21, 2008

As promised, some six month pictures. He is in the 80th percentile for height, and 50th percentile for weight. (A complete flip flop from the day he was born.)





Thursday, April 17, 2008

I saw something on the teevee last night that really struck a chord. And so I'm going to post about it because I like to pretend that enough people read my blog to change the world. Ahem.

This isn't going to be pretty. Adult themes and all that. So read on at your own risk.

What I saw was a news story about the Pope's visit to the US, and the reactions of Catholics in the wake of the Priest Sexual Abuse Scandal. They interviewed the parents of a now grown woman who was repeatedly raped as a child by the family priest. The father was sobbing as he talked about this priest raping his five year old daughter. I don't even have to tell you what that does to me inside. Suffice to say I sobbed with him.

Then the father said that he had tremendous guilt, because he felt like the reason his daughter never told them what was happening was because of something he said to her once. He told her that if anyone ever hurt her, he would kill them. Kids are so literal. And so to protect her father from that monsterous response, and the fallout from what she thought was going to be an actual murder, she kept her secret for decades.

I felt sort of like I had been struck by an arrow. Because I remember distinctly sitting on the bed in my grandmother's bedroom when she told me the same thing. I was probably 10 years old. Old enough to know that there would never be bloodshed at the hands of my then 70 year old grandma. But still. It was obvious to 10 year old me that whatever evil lay in wait for me, it couldn't hurt me as much as it would hurt her. And as I have a lifelong habit of protecting the women in my life to any extent possilbe, I made a concious decision to keep any and all painful news from my grandmother. Forever. At any price. (I was so drama at 10 years old...)

I have never had anything as horrific as what happened to that young girl happen to me. Not even close. So I can't really say that I would have kept my secrets like she did. But I know that conversation affected me profoundly. So last night I thought a lot about how to convey the same meaning - that I am passionately driven to protect my children - without scaring the crap out of them.

Sweet Pea and I already talk about things that I hope and pray will protect her from predatory adults as she grows up. She knows that she, and she alone, is the boss of her body. We talk about our bodies and use all the right words. We try to keep nakedness and sexuality (age appropriate of course) from being taboo in our house. She is never forced to give a kiss or a hug if she doesn't want to. We talk about the difference between secrets and surprises. And how no one should EVER ask you to keep a secret from your Mommy and Daddy.

And now we're going to add to that list a conversation about how it's Mom and Dad's job to protect her and keep her safe. And how we LOVE our job. And the part about how we would kill any $#@*ing bastard who tried to lay a hand on her will have to remain between me and Mr. G.

Just thought I'd share.

~Clover

Monday, April 14, 2008

His Royal Highness turned 6 months old on Friday. This morning he was sitting on my bed (Sitting up! By himself!) laughing and laughing, and I was thinking that Sweet Pea was like that as a baby. Really happy and smiley all the time. Wasn’t she? Didn’t she smile? Heh. It’s so weird how you think you’ll never forget all those moments. And then you just do. Not the forgetting that can be recalled by a certain sound or smell or place either. It’s like, complete mind erasure. It reminds me to take pictures, and get out the video camera, and write more in my blog about my chirrens.

So here’s a little bit about Sweet William at six months old. First and foremost, he is so happy! Last night he was even laughing in his sleep. And, OMG, that smile. That smile just melts me. The spontaneity and sincerity of it. Not to mention the toothless cuteness. Yesterday Mr. G was carrying him in the front pack while we went on a walk. Whenever Will would catch sight of either me or his big sister he would just beam at us with a look of pure adoration. Perfection!

He is also just really, easy. Mellow. Go with the flow. Loves to take naps. Love to snuggle and cuddle. Will eat anything. Really, anything. He spends a lot of time being pretty ticked off at me because I won’t let him eat everything in fact. He has recently discovered his feet. Those are cool. And he is starting to try to pick small things up with his hands – desperately trying to grasp Cheerios is more like it. He plays with intensity. Really focusing on his tasks. Touching things, biting things, kicking things, pushing buttons, crinkling crinkly things, opening openey things…Mirrors are one of his favorite toys. Every night after his bath we play, “Who is that baby?” First in the bathroom mirror, then in the hall mirrors, then in his dresser mirror. Each time I say, “Who is that baby??” He cracks UP. Which involves not just laughing, but squealing and blowing raspberries too.

He sings. He hollers. He gets SO excited when the dog is around. And he loves his big sister. She can always make him smile just by talking to him or holding his hand. (She’ll say, “What’s up little dude?” And he will beam.)

He’s getting some teeth, which started out kind of rough. But seems to be Ok now. He’s back to sleeping peacefully all night long. He pulls my hair really hard sometimes and I have to tell him, “No thank you!” He pulls Sweet Pea’s hair too, but I have her convinced that it is an act of love and adoration. So she’s mostly Ok with it.

The only time he screams his head off is in the grocery store. Natch.

We have a 6 month checkup coming up. So I’ll post his stats and a few pictures later this week.

~Clover

Thursday, April 03, 2008

From schmoopy to random. Ready for the ride?

1) I forgot how much I like shopping at Winco. If you have never shopped at a Winco, I shall explain. It is a regular grocery store, but it has adopted the warehouse store feel. No frills. Stuff packed the rafters. But they have a ton of variety, and their produce is always fabulous. Plus, they are pretty cheap. So I can get on board with that. The downside is that you are supposed to bag your own groceries. And that is hard to do with two small people in your cart.

I am pretty sure that I saw Justin Timberlake at Winco this morning. I think he may have a bad Meth habit. In fact, I think most of the people in the grocery store at 10AM today may have been on the Meth. Oddly enough.

Even odder, that I have enough thought and emotion about my choice of grocery store to write two entire paragraphs about it. When did I turn into a grownup?

2) Way cool site. Way cool blog. Way cool magazine. How have I not known about this until right now?? I can't WAIT to make shrinky dink rings. I wish I had time to enter the cute cupcake contest. Ahhh! So much fun, so little time. Craftzine.com

3) I need a bigger car. And when I say "need" I mean want. And when I say "bigger" I mean Suburban.

I have been thinking and researching this ever since the realization hit that I would soon have 2 carseats taking up my entire backseat. I think I have a very valid reason for wanting/needing this gigantic car. Take, for example, last night. We have a friend in town from Portland. Mr. G picked friend up at his hotel and we all went to dinner. Getting everyone in the car required me to climb over one carseat, and then angle my hips so that I could slide between the mammoth things to the tiny patch of seat below. Forget wearing a seatbelt. Even if you could move your arms enough to reach it, you can't get to the buckle. And heaven forbid we should try this configuration with different players. Not that I'm super tiny, but I am wearing size 6 jeans today (que the chorus from Handel's Messiah), and even though I could get my butt on the seat, my knees were up near my shoulders.

So taking anyone with us to our place in the mountains requires multiple vehicles. A problem when, for example, my mom comes with us without my dad. Or when friends fly into town for a ski weekend. Or someday when the kids are old enough to want to take a friend. Or, you know, any number of other realistic situations that I'm sure are bound to arise over and over again. It's already been a problem 4 times this winter.

Hence the need for the 3rd row seating. I'm sure that everyone is thinking of the myriad of cars with 3rd row seating that aren't as big and gas guzzling as a Suburban. So true. However, all those cars loose all but like 6 inches of cargo space when the third row is in use. So now where does the dog ride? And how about the mindboggling amount of stuff we seem to take with us every time we go up there?

How about a MiniVan you say? Well. That's a purchase rife with complications. The main one being that it's not safe to haul our boat unless the vehicle doing the hauling is built more like a truck than a car. And not only that, but there is the business of "The MiniVan Act of 1998" which states that we will NEVER EVER EVER own a minivan. There is a fanny pack addendum to the MiniVan Act of 1998. But that's a different post. I tried to broach the MiniVan subject not long ago and I am pretty sure Mr. G immediately got up and called an attorney about breach of contract.

So, anyway. I need this bigger car. But my inner tree hugger is just cringing at the thought of buying one. Not to mention the very outward part of me that paid $3.29 for gas on Tuesday. Feh.

I have crushing SUV guilt. Crushing. As evidenced by the ridiculously long justification I just typed out for my big car longing. And then today, out of nowhere came this angry voice from the clouds that said, "You are not a bad person because a bigger car would make your life a lot easier!"

And I was like, "YEAH!" I mean, duh. I would love to drive a Prius, but my shiznit is just not going to fit in the damn thing. So I'm absolving myself of SUV guilt and directing more anger at Big Oil and the automotive industry.

BUILD SOMETHING BETTER PEOPLE!! And please hurry. Thank you.

4) Oh hell. I forgot what 4 is. You've probably stopped reading anyway.

~Clover

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Warning! I'm feeling really schmoopy tonight.

Stealing Cinderella, by Chuck Wicks

I came to see her daddy for sit down man to man
It wasn't any secret i'd be asking for her hand
I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself
with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf

She was playing Cinderella
She was riding her first bike
Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
In her eyes I'm Prince Charming
But to him I'm just some fella
riding in and stealing Cinderella

I leaned in towards those pictures to get a better look at one
When I heard a voice behind me say "Now, ain't she something, son?"
I said "Yes, she quite a woman" and he just stared at me
Then I realized that in his eyes she would always be

Playing Cinderella
Riding her first bike
Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
In her eyes I'm Prince Charming
But to him I'm just some fella riding in and stealing Cinderella

He slapped me on the shoulder
Then he called her in the room
When she threw her arms around him
That's when I could see it too

She was Playing Cinderella
Riding her first bike
Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
If he gives me a hard time
I can't blame the fella
I'm the one who's stealing Cinderella