Grandpedant

So, Nini was over yesterday and while we were making Outrageous Oatmeal Cookies from Starbucks (cut the salt and cinnamon by half, okay?), we somehow got into a conversation about: economics. And I mean a serious conversation about goods and services and pricing and value and why monopolies are bad. We must have talked about this for fifteen minutes, waiting for the cookies to bake. And if I used lollipops and Littlest Pet Shops instead of guns and butter- she's eight.

In the last year or two, I've noticed in myself a tendency to teach almost all the time I spend with the babies, especiall with Ni, since she's older. Oh, it's not that we don't have fun, and giggle and act silly and tease each other- but I sneak ethics lessons into the doll house and onto the farm and include some sort of life-lesson- gardening, cooking, sewing, cleaning, handcrafting- into our time together. I know to stop when she gets bored- but it's there.

Now, it's not that Sis and Jas don't do this as well- they are excellent parents with good values. But I know I paid more attention to certain things my grandparents taught me, than my mom and dad. And we have the extra time to back them up, that they don't, trying to make a living and bring up three kids.
I think I look back at when our own kids were young, and think of all the things I wish I had known to emphasize, but just didn't, and want to fill in the gaps with the g-kids.

But most of all, I think my motivation comes from the urgency of these scary times- and the conviction that they will have to be so much stronger than I thought my own children would ever have to be to have a life of Truth, Beauty and Goodness.

More Gratitude

- That Sarah has the best sister in the world. Target has offered her her pick of the furniture she has in storage: "as long as you give it back and don't break it". So, she can use the money she would have spent on a bed, etc. on rent.

-This site. What a great writer. Send all your potential converts here.

-Good theater parents. One mom has sent me three e-mails with a zillion links to possible jammies for her kid.

-That the Yarbs garage sale went well. They made some $$$ and got everything else off the premises- a big load off their minds

-That when you slip up- like yelling at someone you love over a character trait you've consciously chosen to ignore- you can repent and start over again...and again...

-That I never have to play Mario Kart ever- the pace gives me vertigo and I fall off the couch. Someone else will have to deal with the obsession.

-That Bubs can read the whole alphabet and understands symbols, like the "No" sign. There was a little incident in which he asked his dad how to spell "Mom", which he wrote on the door blackboard and then added the symbol. He was mad at her about something- but grasping how that works- genius.

-That there was a spot at St. Catherine's pre-school for Bubs.

-That flannel looks like wool from a distance

and other things too numerous to mention.

Gratitude: Nov. 10

Bubs. No explanation needed.

Oh- and the U.S. Marine Corps. Happy Birthday!

Well,
Bubs seems to be fine. His tox screen, CAT scan and MRI were all clear. The assumption now is that he had/has some sort of middle ear inflammation that was causing the motor impairment.
We are all very grateful that it was nothing more serious than that, though of course, we are keeping a close eye on him. Thank you so much for your prayers.
"Thank you for having me," he told the nurse when he hugged her good-bye.
Sweet little guy.

Snippets

I have the Oliver! photos, but don't want to post them until certain people have seen the show.

Target and Davy had tickets for Sunday, along with Sissy, Ni and friends. I had a frank talk with him at family dinner: "Look, sweetheart, if you're just going to this to be polite to the mom, it's really not necessary. I won't be offended and I can re-sell the tickets." Which I knew would be an important point, since one of his former careers was being a ticket-scalper in Chicago.
"No, no- I really do want to go. I was in Oliver! in like fifth grade. I got beat out for Oliver by a kid whose name was Oliver, but I was a gang member and know all the songs."
Well, okay, then.

Bubs found some of Ni's deadly magnet-n-rod toys, which I took home and threw away. Apropos of that, Marge told the story of how, when she was an R.A. for Governor's School at Hendrix, which is like summer play-college for high school students, one of the young men decided it would be a good idea to insert his testicles between two super strong magnets from the physics lab. It took a trip to the ER to remove them, after six hours or so. Good times.

I had just figured out how to operate the ice/water controls on the Yarb's new fridge and was getting some crushed ice when Bubs walked by.
'That's enough, Mimi" he decreed.

While decluttering the house after neglecting it for weeks, I found an American Scholar on the bedroom bookcase. I read an article on two author's correspondence and part of the critical article that followed. The next day, while browsing near the Dickens section at H-P Books, I found a slim volume by the same author on books and reading- a combination common-place book and book list. Synchronicity demanded that I buy it, along with an Annie Dillard and The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Now I have to buy a lot of other new books, as well, as recommended by Mr. Dirda.
These buying sprees go in cycles- one idea trips another and off I go on Amazon and ABE, tracking down the pertinent texts.

Before that, I went to the Tea Party Gov't. Health Care protest at our representative's office in Irving. After the protest, we were invited in for some refreshments and had a long and informative talk with some of his aides.
What I wish? That in groups like the above, we could all just agree that indeed, we all think very decidely about whatever subject and just leave it at that. There's no prize for hating socialism, or Obama, or abortion or anything else more than everyone else present. Really. Conserve the energy and use it more constructively, I say.
This reminds me of why I was never a very good 'Traditional' Catholic- just couldn't get into the competitive angst.

De-cluttering the garden, as well, but that goes on the other blog. What I've decided is that though I've enjoyed the last few years costuming the musical, I'd really rather garden and mess with the children. Both activites have their own vitality and I love them both, but for right now, I lean more towards the introverted and contemplative. The times seem to require that, somehow.

Make the Cuteness Stop!
All the grandchildren, exhibiting various degrees of adorableness and good parenting. Miss O here, and Bubs and M.J. here.
Please feel free to skip this trip to Grannietopia.

Is it just me

or is it really heart-meltingly sweet that Bubs refers to his own sister as "Miss O"?

Hahahahaha...
'Cause I've only been telling them since February 3, 2002 that someday this would happen...
Telling them? I've been playing the Goldberg Variations on this theme.
Now I can't stop laughing.
Sometimes I'm not a very nice person.
Heh.

Snippets
Someone had to wear a hat into and out of preschool to cover up his latest bruise:
"I threw a Thomas the Tank Engine into the air
It fell to earth-on my forehead."
because his mother thinks one of the directors has her CPS eye on her.

He also needs some friends who are not his six-year old sister, because when I pointed out the hewge nails in the bins at the "Bob store" (Lowe's) to him, he told me "Oh, Mimi, those are jus' adorable."

We managed to wrestle the new twin beds into place next to each other and plan to make them up with a combo of king and twin bedding- I'm a covers stealer. The cats are enthralled. There is actually enough room for them to sleep with us now. I was a little bored with buying coverlets that turned out to not be the thing, so I made him buy the quilt, so he got just what he wanted.

The new couch arrived, but we're still a little shy of it.

There has been an exciting number of new birds at the feeders this year. I've put five on the list in the Petersen's Birds of Texas I keep on the cookbook rack. Besides the kinglet, we've seen two types of juncos and two types of woodpeckers. Even a mocker has shown up and they rarely eat at feeders. I need to put some fruit out for him. I think it's the combination of foodstuffs we're using: songbird feed in the lantern feeder, sunflower seeds in the flat feeder (where the squirrel parks his fat bottom for minutes at a time), suet mix in the holder and a birdcake of sunflower, peanuts and other stuff stuck together with corn syrup in another holder, and shelled corn on the ground for the doves.
While Ro is at work, we're going to sneak the bat house onto the side of the house, under the eaves...The idea of them gives her the heebie-jeebies, but I need them. For the garden.

There was a elderly gentleman in the Dallas Antiques Roadshow end-cap segment who announced that the little bowl his sister had made him bring was not worth "jack-doodley hoo-hoo."
Ro: "Oh, we are so adopting that."

Snippets

Bought a new latex mattress from IKEA this week. Woke up the last two mornings, leapt off the floor, where it's waiting for the new frames and platforms, feeling as though someone had NOT snuck in in the night and beaten me about the shoulders and back. Now I'm kicking myself because we didn't do this sooner.

Picked up Nini for a play day on Friday and as we were leaving, Bubs dissolves into tears: "Don't leave me, Mimi! Don't leeeeeaaavvve me!" Oh, the pathos! Kind of nice having your own Rodolfo, even if he's only two.

We had family dinner at Sissy's because Target's boyfriend, the multi-talented Davy, was in town. He had just come back from a tour of Europe the last time we saw him and had just finished shooting his own movie in nine days ("Like "Little Shop of Horrors?" I asked) this time. After dinner, we had a bowling tourney with the Wii. Ni had made Mii's (your little interactive persona) for everyone and they were all amazingly accurate. Bubs was a little critical of Marge's, though, and after he had asked for the twentieth time if "Target has scary eyes?", she got a virtual makeover. Wii is still the devil, though.

Went in to the agency to work on the Christmas volunteer numbers Saturday and saw a group out on the plaza in front of our building. Turns out they were "The Obama Group", some sort of supporters of the Pres-elect, and had brought us an MLK food drive and some $$$. All of which was greatly appreciated. Nice to think that they're walking the walk, not just basking in the rhetoric.

Am putting in raised garden beds in the back yard, to be a little greener and because the kids get such a kick out of picking things. Debating the merits of
a) raised beds made of cedar, a renewable resource, which can be taken apart, are cheaper and cost way less in S&H or
b) raised beds made of recycled milk cartons, which are more expensive, weigh a ton and cost oodles of S&H or
c) buying my own cedar boards at Lowe's and fastening them together myself for about 1/3 the price of cedar beds and no S&H.
This makes me understand why serious ecologists, faced with the realization that every single one of their acts has an impact on the planet, sometimes go nuts and decide that everyone, or at least 90% of us, MUST DIE! But not them, because someone has to run the sustainable, lo-tech villages for the remaining 10%.

Bubs came for the day on Monday, so his mom and Miss Diane could get some work done on their new business. She begged me to make him take a nap, so we went in the bedroom and read on our bed, then Mimi pretended to fall asleep. I heard him say, in different tones, like an actor trying out a line: 'It's not fair."
Low mutter. "It's not fair." Slight whine. "It's not faaiir." Loud declamation, with thigh slap: "It's not FAIR!"
Fine, Atticus Finch. It's not fair. Now go night-night, please.

I never understood those moms whose constant refrain was “I just can’t wait until my kids move out!” Of course, I wanted my children to leave home to pursue their vocations in life, but I knew I would miss them terribly because they are simply such good company.
On New Year’s Day, Target came over to do her laundry and Sissy brought the children for an all day visit, since Jake had to work. (And because Bubs had squeezed a whole tube of toothpaste out on the bathroom floor and she just couldn’t deal at the moment.)
And Ro was already home, though still under the weather from her wisdom teeth extraction. Which she had done under a local, which made her the star of the practice.
The funny gene in my family of origin missed me personally, but I passed it on to my offspring. When we get together, mostly we laugh.
About massages:
“Well, mine was at Stonebriar, so it was very chi-chi: “Would you like some cucumber water?”
“Um, no thanks. Plain water is fine.”
“You can get it out of the tap- it does not have to come from a glacier.”
“And all the reading material was from Conde Nast. I was, like “Where is People? I need my People, people. Or Us.”
“Mine talked and I thought “You know, I don’t want to be mean, but I’m trying to relax here and I really don’t care about your sick cat.” and then after, she was kind of invading my personal space.”
“Hula hoop of personal space! Maintain your distance!”
“I think that’s because they mainly deal with naked people.”
About the babies:
“Tell her what Bubs did.”
“Oh- we were sitting on the couch reading last Sunday, when Ro walks in and gets a drink. And he looks at her, then he looks at me, then he looooks at her and he has this ‘wait a minute’ look on his face and then he asks me “Not Target?” And I said ‘No, darling- that’s Auntie Ro.” And his expression was like ‘Well, good- ‘cause I thought I was losing it there.”
“He just likes to get things right.”
About Single Ladies:
“Watch- Morgan can do that- ‘all you single ladies put your hands up-!”
“Sis, she’s not a puppet.”
“She has a black onesie- she could totally be in the video.”
She dances Morgie around in a circle. MJ is eating this up- unlike her gentle sister, she has a big streak of razz-ma-tazz in her nature and loves attention.
“I see the double dimples! Morgie, why are you so cute?”
We eat pizza, and Ro has an Italian ice, and we watch “Frances” and “Kipper” on Sprouts Kids. Ni and I take down the Enchanted Forest and they play Pla-doh at the kitchen table and Bubs does all the puzzles in the house four times each.
Good times.

Snippets

Sissy was felled by a foul gastric virus, so I spent the day at her house Saturday, babysitting. In addition to Sprite and chicken soup mix, I brought rubber gloves and Clorox.When I talked to her the next day- she was asleep when I left that afternoon- I told her "I went 'Nino' on your house's ass downstairs."
My mother, who was a little- okay, a lot- OC, cleaned every suitable surface with chlorine bleach. While this kept her house spotless, it also may have been a factor in the COPD that kept her bedridden for the last year of her life.So, kids, don't try this at home. Unless someone has the throw-up flu, okay?
"Oh, thank you. Jake's got it now. I think he was just too close to me."

When I arrived home, I found that Ro had put up the tree, cleaned, and decorated. She was having some friends over to watch "White Christmas', a holiday tradition for them. What a lovely surprise, having a shining and festive house, 'cause I was pooped.
And yes, all us girls did sing along with the Haynes:
"Sisters, sisters
There were never such devoted sisters-"
I waited until a particulary egregious example of Technicolor:
"Hey, Ro."
"What?"
"'The Fifties were an oddly-hued decade..."

Why my Husband is the Best: leaving Sis's, I found I had a message from Cathy, the volunteer co-ordinator, that we were running out of filled food boxes and would have an emergency work party in the morning before the Holiday Store opened at 1:00 on Sunday.I swung by on my way to Mass in the morning (I have a key) and decided that if we set up before the work party arrived, they'd have just that much more time to fill boxes. So, I called him and he came over and helped me set up the tables with food items and back stock underneath. He made some boxes, as well, and I even had six filled before Cathy arrived at 10:30. The work party made about 140, to add to the 255 we already had, so they're good until Tuesday.
(I occurs to me that all this volunteer reportage might sound as if we're braggin' on ourselves, but it's not meant to. This is just what I do- if I bred corgis or flew jets or wrestled alligators, I'd write about that.)

I was washing dishes at Sissy's and Bubs comes up and beats a tatoo on my behind.
"Ouch!" I said. "What are you doing, Bubbie?"
"It's otay, Mimi. I just patting you."
Well, pat a little more softly, please.

Have I mentioned that MJ is a gastric reflux baby? Her Mimi thinks even this is adorable, because it reminds her of Uncle Brother and Auntie Ro when they were babies. But it's wearing her mom down, having to do triple the usual amount of baby wash. A lesser person would have cratered by now and invested in a big pile of Gerber T-shirts and just popped a new one on about eight times a day, but Sis is still dressing her in her Naartjes and Baby Gap and Gymboree, so she looks precious.
But damp.
I assure her that the second Morgie can sit up by herself this will stop, just like turning off a faucet.

Target comes over to do laundry and make some peppermint bark for her employer.
"I have a new most-hated Christmas song."
"Oh?"
"Yeah- It's a Marshmallow World".
"That is pretty bad. Of course nothing can ever beat out The Christmas Shoes-"
"I haven't heard that once this year."
"I think that's because mobs of people converge on the radio station with torches and pitchforks, if they play it."
"So, anyway, there was this version by Sinatra and Dean Martin. They sound absolutely hammered."
"I'm thinking that to get them to record Marshmallow World, liquor was probably involved."
"Well, they sounded awful, like they were just fooling around. I mean, I know you're hugely famous and all , but people might remember you for this."
"I doubt that, darling. My most-hated is still "And So This is Christmas".
"With those atonal kids?"
"Yes- but to me it's more the guilt trip: Hope you're having fun here at the Hobby Lobby when people are starving, heartless b."
"You know what I like that a lot of people hate, though? Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmas Time"."
"Well, I think that has more to do with 'Sure, Sir Paul- you're having a wonderful Christmas time because you're a billionaire' than the tinkly tune."

Goes Around, Comes Around

"It's like learning to be a parent all over again, with him!" said Sis. "Ni would go in her room and play by herself for hours- and he won't stay back here and he always wants someone to play with him!"

Really, Mrs. Pot? Wants someone to play with him? I can't imagine where Mr. Kettle could have gotten that trait, unless it was from someone who used to insist I sit on the couch for hours and watch her concoct involved psycho-dramas using the Fisher-Price Farm.

These were usually about a very good little girl and her very naughty big brother, who got up to all sorts of shenanigans for which he was soundly punished.

Or the ongoing saga of Strawberry Shortcake and her posse of smelly friends...

Or the Fisher-Price dollhouse family...

I just can't imagine (smiling a secret Mimi smile)...

Good times.

Consumer Alert!

But then the playfull fun of it all went out the frost
covered window. I found it a little off-putting that the first thing your "elf" asked us was what size photo package we would like to order. Nothing says The Joy Of Seeing Santa, like forced consumerism! And when I asked your elf if we
could just see you and take one of our own photos since they are
so expensive, she replied with a festive, "Yea, but ONLY 2." When she turned to you and told you we were "just visiting", I did not know this was Santa Code for "They are not paying us, so don't act like you care about them."

Bad Santa.

Snippets

Nini reminded me it's almost time to set up the Enchanted Forest. She has a number of suggestions for this year. I mentioned that someday, we'll have to let Bubs help us, but not for another couple of years, and that by then, she may not be interested in working on it. She gives me a Look.
"Mimi, I will never be too old to help you with the Forest!"
Oh, my sweet, sweet girl- if only that were true...

Bob got a recommendation from a guy at Lowe's for a carpenter to fix the guest room ceiling. Thank goodness, the whole thing doesn't have to come down, just the center panels. And they will re-surface it as well. He mentioned that they seemed quite eager for the job- they were at the house within two hours of his call. "It's the economy. People have probably canceled projects they were going to have done."

Speaking of someone who needs a job- after six months of retirement, the thrill of unlimited free time is gone. The days kind of blend into each other, which he finds disconcerting. I'm thinking the library could use some help. Or the food bank. It's not terrible- he's not in the kitchen alphabetizing the spices or color-coding the towels, but it's time to find something to do besides write the new book.

Tried out the "Orphans to Orphans" sweater pattern from Knitting for Peace. I've given it up though, because I didn't like it. Too much picking up of stitches and you wind up with the whole sweater hanging off your needles while finishing the last sleeve. I understand that the idea is to delete sewing seams, but I'd rather do them than cope with the weight. Plus, it has the cobbled together look of charity knitting done for speed and I'm not sure it's actually faster. Went back to a basic kid's pullover from the pattern book and it looks much better. Using up all the browns, tans and greens from the felted playmat.

Did I mention that the tourist costume was scrapped? Yes, we're going with an all-animal theme this year and Bubs is going to be an elephant. I claim no credit for the wonderfulness of this- it all goes to Tom Arma, who designed the pattern- that same one that we used for the mad monkey cuteness last year. Sis made a deal with me- she would make the bodysuit, if I would make the hood. I had done one already, for Jungle Book, so the construction wasn't unfamiliar. It was just a festival of handwork. She reports that just as I was afraid of- he hates the hood. "It huuuurts" he said. But she is holding all the cards- no hood, no candy. (I have mentioned before that my eldest daughter is the Madwoman of Halloween, haven't I?)

I do take credit for the flamingo, though, because I designed every scrap of it, except the hood base, myself. Best part? The out of control floofy pink net and tulle feather petticoat.
Sis has made Morgie a bumblebee costume- a yellow and black tutu over a black body suit. It has a flower headpiece.
Morgan, let me remind everyone, is three months and one week old.
And yet, she has a Halloween costume.
Because her mother is (see above).
It could be worse- Ni was a tiny little Elvis for her first Halloween. And I made the jumpsuit and cape, so I hardly have room to talk.

Something Light

because there's been enought grumpiness around here lately.

Last Easter, I gave Bubs a board book called ‘No, No, Yes, Yes”. That’s the whole text, posted over drawings of a baby being awful on one page and then good, in the opposite way, on the next. He didn’t like it much then, but now that he’s figured out it’s about a very naughty baby, he loves it, human nature being what it is. So Sissy has been reading it to him often. It’s right up there now with “I am a Bunny”, “The Wonderful House” and “Goodnight, Moon”.

When I was babysitting the other day, he wanted to have story time. But we were sidetracked by a hungry Morgan, so I suggested that he read to me while I gave Morgie her bottle. We climb up onto his bed and he chooses “No, No, Yes, Yes” and begins:

“NO,NO Baby- no food on head! Yes, Yes- food in bowl.”
“NO, NO Baby- no hurt the plant! Yes, Yes- dirt in plant.”
“NO, NO Baby- no eat dog food! Yes, Yes- eat a ‘nana.”
He glances up to make sure I’m paying attention. Oh, I am.
“NO, NO Baby- no toys in the potty! Yes, Yes- pee-pee in the potty. And poop.”
“NO, NO Baby- no rip out books! Yes- reada book.”
“NO, NO Baby- no hit fwiends! Yes, Yes- play with toys.”

Now you have to understand that he’s doing a Jonathan Edwards "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” thing with the “NO, NO!”s and a preschool teacher encouraging voice with the “Yes’s”. I am simultaneously biting the inside of my cheek trying not to laugh, and tearing up at how unbearably cute this is. ‘Cause he’s a genius.

“NO, NO Baby- no run away! Yes, Yes, holda hand.“
(Oh, Mr. Pot, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kettle).
“NO NO Baby- no pull the kitteh! Yes, Yes, pet the kitteh.”

“Oh, Bubbie, that was wonderful. Can you read me another one?”

“I amma bunny. My name is Nick-u-las. I’m inna twee…”

Good times...

Pretty Much Unbearable Mad Monkey Cuteness

LOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's so ADORABLE!!!! thank you thank you thank you! have a fun trip! -@
Why, yes, I am the best Mimi in the whole world...