snowy moments

Sometimes it really is idyllic.

The entire state of Iowa is sitting under 4 feet of snow. They closed the interstate. Even more amazing they closed the university! So Scully is home with us on a Wednesday--like a little present in the middle of the week.

We all had oatmeal this morning to warm up our bellies.

We painted salt-dough ornaments. Thumper kept trying to eat his so we just gave him a teething biscuit instead. All four of us around the table with paint and glitter and smeary, mushy teething biscuit.

And then we played. There were a few crashes (mostly Khubz and Thumper.) Thumper fell asleep for his morning nap. Scully and Khubz built a nest/fort/tent and then played connect four. In their version you just try and get your chips to the top. Now Scully and Khubz are coloring at the table.

And the snow keeps coming down and in this moment I hope it never stops.

Dildos & Firefighters

P.S. The dildos and firefighters story is totally, unbelievably hillarious.

Alas, it is not mine to tell.

It does make me smile, though, and last night I really needed that smile.

:* (kisses)
j

fast moving pendulum

We are all okay.

But last night we had some firefighters over.

But we are all okay. And really, if you have to have a story about calling firefighters to your house at 11 pm on Thanksgiving night--this is the story to have!

Hamdillah.

So last night I was at the computer and everyone else was asleep. And I smell this foul, plastic burning smell. So I look around and can't find anything. But the smell gets worse and then a foggy, kind of smoky haze fills the living room, kitchen and study.


I look harder.

Nothing.

I wake Scully up. We both smell and see it. We cannot find anything. Basement is clear. Christmas tree lights are off. All the nightlights get unplugged. Everything looks clear. And the burning stench endures. The haze is getting worse.

Forget it.

Get the kids. Get out.

911.

Firetruck.

Siren.

Police car.


Sobbing Khubz in her jammies in the truck.


Wake up the neighbors.

Firemen come in. Boots. Hats. One guy had an axe. I am not kidding.

And they smell nothing. And see nothing.

I come back in the house with them. You don't smell that? It stinks but it is not as heavy.


"Smells like burned food." one says. Thanks but I haven't been cooking.


"Smells like potpourri to me." another says. We don't even have candles. We have kids.


"I smell it." Thank you. "It smells like there's a burned transformer outside. I think that smell must have come in."

I opened the door when I smelled it to see if the smell was coming from outside. It wasn't. But they couldn't find anything. The smoke alarms hadn't gone off. They found nothing.

They were very nice. I couldn't believe I called the fire department out for nothing. But that's what they found. Nothing. Nothing hot. Nothing smoky. Nothing.
"I am not crazy!" I tell Scully as we bring our children back in our house.

She thought it had smelled like an electrical fire.

Thumper, bless him, is asleep. He was asleep in his crib when I first smelled it. Fell back asleep in the truck after being evacuated. Slept through the lights and sirens. Fell back asleep once back in the house. And blissfully slept in his crib until six this morning.

Khubz was upset. She clung to Scully, crying in her arms because she was scared. They cuddled on the couch for an hour after the all-clear.

And then Scully and I sat on the couch. Clinging to each other with all of the "what-ifs" racing around us. And then what we need to do differently.

For example, no more sleeping naked. Or at least, I need to have some clothes handy. :(
We need to know where our keys are and make sure they are put in the same spot, easy to dash out of the house with.
Scully needs to save her dissertation work online as well as on flashdrives and our computer.
You know how this list goes.

And then we walked around the house catching faint glimpses of the previous smell.

And then. . .wait. . . the dishwasher. . .


Oh My F*ng G.

Unbelievable.

Since then I have been on a fast moving pendulum that swings back and forth between vomiting with fear that there could have been a fire in my house where my babies and my partner live--and vomiting from embarrassment for calling the fire department to my house because a goddamn tupperware lid melted against the heating element in the dishwasher. Not even a tupperware! Fucking GLADWARE!

Unbefuckinglivable.

At least the dildos weren't out.

much, much better

A number of things helped today.

Preschool.

A long afternoon nap for everyone (especially mommy!)

and especially,

Tia Teefa taking Khubz ice skating!!! There will be skating pictures uploaded at some point but everyone can just picture Khubz and her Tia as Khubz periodically calls out, "Mommy, I'm doing GREAT!" It was awesome! Totally & completely awesome!!!

And it was right after preschool. So in the car after ice skating I fed her a PB sandwich and she crashed out in the car. I carried her in to the house and put her in bed. 15 minutes later Thumper was also asleep and I got him in his crib.

5 minutes later Khubz woke up.

So I ask if she wants me to sing to her and I get in bed with her and I WAKE UP 2 1/2 HOURS LATER. BOTH OF MY CHILDREN ARE STILL ASLEEP.

It is as if God was, in fact, rewarding me for making it through yesterday.

But it was now 4 pm and I was in danger of sabatoging bedtime. So I woke up both of my children--this sort of goes against the grain but it was the right thing to do. And we had a really nice day. Late bedtime, but all okay.

Scully is traveling for work and won't get home till about 10 tonight but when she comes in she'll find a well-rested, not crazy Mommy in a messy but happily-played-in home. Want proof?

zits

So it goes like this.

Thumper has a double ear infection. We cannot hold this against him. I have no hard feelings that we were up from 3-5 a.m. last night. Ear aches hurt. He is a baby. These are facts, like gravity.

Khubz plows through a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. Scully is off to catch the bus. Khubz gets in to bed and begins to harass me to, um, mother or something. So I get up. Thumper is asleep in his crib. Khubz is needing some attention.

We sit and read. We plow through all the books in the library bag and we check out 157 books at a time. But it is destined to be a hard day and not because I am doing a bad job. It is destined to be a hard day because my staff or my customers or my board of directors or whatever labor model (MT, perhaps?) you'd like to use. . . because my children today were dictatorial & unyielding ( a phrase some of you may have heard before.)

And really, this bitch session is directed at Khubz. She was maddening and we are all lucky to have made it through the day without going to jail. A few snapshots of the day.

Thumper is asleep. She has my lap all to herself. We are reading & reading. Out of the blue she gets this look in her eye. This is the look she gets when she decides, "hey, I think I'm going to act like a shithead!" (And listen, o ye loyal subjects of Khubz. I know she is your beloved. I know you are her defenders. I love her too. But really, today? You would have voted for impeachment too. Trust me.)

"What's that, mommy?" She stabs at my chin with her finger. Her finger fresh out of her mouth, thank you very much.

"What? My zit? Mommy has a zit." A great big puss-filled painful zit, actually. Get your finger away.

She scrunches up her face in disgust. "Yeah. Yuck! A zit! And hair. . . Ewww."

Are we reading a story here? Stop touching my face. We are reading a story, right? No? Okay, then you can get off my lap. Okay then--let's just keep reading. No! Stop touching my zit. No. I don't want to talk about it. Or the hair. (sigh.)

Or later when Thumper is up and nursing and nursing and nursing. And crying. And nursing. And Khubz wants to paint. I suggest shaving cream because I am brilliant. After playing at the kitchen table for a few minutes Khubz wants to move the frivolities to the bathtub. "That is a great idea, Khubz. She is in the tub. Thumper and I are having fun watching her paint her body with shaving cream. She is playing peekabo with Thumper. We have gotten this day turned around!

So Khubz looks at me and gets one of her bathtoys (a small bucket) and drinks the water. This is against the rules. "Oh. I see that you're all done." I tell her and drain the tub. She gives me a smile. That smile. And she drinks the water again. I get the towel and invite her to come out of the tub. She scurries to the far end of the tub. I put Thumper in his crib (he doesn't need to see this) and proceed to pull her wet, slippery, kicking body out of the tub. She stinks so badly of aftershave musk from the shaving cream that I almost gag. Screaming, kicking, grabbing on to the door jam and musky.

A-mazing. So I drop her in her room.

"You are welcome to throw your fit in here. Let me know when you are ready to be polite." I turn to leave the room. She screams like a tribe of banshees, "NO MOMMY! AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!" and charges at me. I am not making this shit up. What do I do? I looked in the damn parents-as-teachers book. It said nothing about a transmogrified three year old. And I was startled. So I tossed the towel at her (I didn't throw it, I promise) and it landed on her head. This stopped her in her tracks and I was able to escape. Temporarily.

Now I've been watching some supernanny and I know this is not how time out is supposed to go. But at that point we needed to be separated and it was either the towel or call the police for back up.

Its just that, for real, I tried a lot of things that would have worked great on another day and it just all went to shit today. TV backfired on me today. How does that happen? When we watch a show it is usually a 30 minute show. When it is over I ask her if she wants to turn it off or if she wants me to turn it off. She wants to and turns the tv off. I was making lunch and looked at the clock and saw that the show would be ending soon. So I asked her which of us should turn it off. "Its not over yet!" she protests. Ok. PBS often has a little talking bumper to a show or something. So I wait another minute. Then I go in there and ask again. And I see that, actually, the clock in the kitchen is slow. An entirely new show has started. And "It's NOT OVER YET!!!!" So even TV turned in to a knock-down, drag out fight.

Everything was like that.

No-nap-time is basically "how many diapers can I fill with shit in quick succession?"

Play time was basically "how many things can I take away from my brother?"

In the morning I talked to my mom and she said "why don't you let me come pick Khubz up and you can have some one-on-one with Thumper and I'll get her out of your hair." I scoffed. "This is not an SOS," I told her. "We'll all come over this afternoon but I have a brand new can of shaving cream and we are going to turn this day around!" Fast forward a few hours. I called her back, "okay. At this point it is, in fact, an SOS."

I called Scully about 4:30. "Do you want us to pick you up on campus?" Put that through the Mommy scrambler and what I really meant was, "I cannot spend one more minute alone with these children."

We got home and Scully walked in first. "Whew! What's that smell?" "What do you mean? It's roast in the slowcooker." And I walked in. Ah. It is burned roast in the slow cooker. Burned with little burned sun dried tomatoes all burned together in one fucking burned masterpiece. Okay. Pizza it is.

We get home from pizza and I check out to write all this out. Halfway through the mommy-is-bitching guilt catches up to me and I decide I want to do bedtime for Khubz. I asked Khubz to pick her toothbrush. She ignored me. "I'm going to count to three and then it will be my turn to pick." Wailing on the floor of the bathroom when I picked green because she " wants purple!!!" Alas, that is not how we get purple toothbrush. Thirty minutes later we brush her teeth. Yes we used the green toothbrush and, yes, CPS did not swoop in to rescue her from our abusive clutches.

I finish up her bedtime song "you are my sunshine. . . and I am sunburned" and as I am singing to her she gently lifts her hand up to my face to grab at my zit.

I think she was too tired today. I also think she had too much time awake in her room this morning before I got up. She seemed bored/tired/attention seeking. She was looking for trouble all day long and trouble was everywhere. I have elaborate plans to make sure today never ever happens again. My mom says I am incorrect to assume there is a planning solution to what is basically a 3-year-old problem. "She had a bad day. She is 3."

I have decided that I need to get up earlier with Khubz so she is more tired at naptime. PBS does yoga at 6 a.m. I'm going to see if Khubz and I can make a date for some a.m. exercise. It is much more likely that it will be another hard night and I will sleep as long as I possibly can tomorrow morning.

But even if that is the case I will be warm and snug in the knowledge that I will not have to live through this exact day again. After all, tomorrow she has preschool.

Sense & Sensibility

Khubz at preschool about 11:15: Where's my Mommy?

pickup is at 11:30 but this is her daily Q at 11:15.

Miss Wendy: Well, she's not here yet but I"m sure she is on her way.

Khubz: Oh. Well, I will not, not cry because I am very sensible and a big girl and so I will notnot cry.

As Miss Wendy was relaying this conversation to me at pickup and laughing Khubz comes over to her with a hug and says, "thank you for a fabulous day!" and Miss Wendy says "Oh thank you for a fabulous day!"

Miss Wendy begins to praise my child and her great vocabulary.
Go on. No. Really, go on! I am eating this up.

So I am convinced Khubz is brilliant--her favorite word is sensible for goodness sake.

And then it's naptime.
When naptime is over she announces that she has made a great big poop in her diaper.

This is bad news. She saves her poop for the diaper. She won't poop in the potty. It is disgusting. Really. And I have a considerable poop threshold.

So I am cleaning her off and informing her how very disgusting it is and she says,
"And Sensible, Mommy!!"

Also

"That's pretty sensible" about getting a napkin for breakfast.

"That's so snazzy, mommy, I'm so snazzy." about new jammies from Tia Alex

Sometimes this blog is just post-it-notes for someone who wants to do a kiddo scrapbook one day. I do have a lot of other things to write about. It is going on the list of things to work on.

Got that lovin feeling

Thumper is feeding himself now, fist after hungry fist. Tonight? Black beans and roasted sweet potato. And applesauce. And bread. And rice. He must be going through a growth spurt because he is never done with his meal.

He gets totally excited about Khubz. When he heard her not-napping at naptime he got all excited and scrambled down to her room. They then begin to "talk" to each other through the door. And, once again, I am the only one in the house who is begging for a nap.

Later I'm giving Thumper a bath and Khubz comes in to pee! (never to pee. always to pee!!!) I'm with my baby in the tub so help yourself. My back is to Khubz and I hear her say, "Wait! Waiiit! Wait for me! I'm coming in--don't flush!" She is doing a voice over for her toilet paper. She throws the toilet paper in and then flushes saying, "whew! I made it!"

There are all of these ways that she surprises me.

Later in the night we went to the store and were putting the food away. Scully remarks, "oh, I should have gotten some fruit to take to work tomorrow." She was saying this to me. Khubz looks up from her blueberries and says, "I have an idea, Mama! Take some of mine. I will share." We didn't even think she was listening to us.

Earlier at the store she wanted to hold her blueberries. We'd even given her a choice of a clearance halloween costume (with an orange wig) or the blueberries and she wanted the blueberries. (she did come from my body, you know.) So she hands the blueberries to the woman at the checkout and then asks for them back--she wants to hold them. Of course, you all already know the punchline. We turn around and Khubz drops the blueberries. Blueberries roll everywhere at the checkout. Everywhere. Okay. What do we do when we make a mess? "Clean it up!" she says. Okay. Now picture me and Khubz chasing blueberries all over the floor at the MallWart checkout registers. And I mean chasing. People were walking by and (accidentally?) kicking them. I handed her a brush--this was a mistake. Blueberries do roll naturally and with a 3 year old batting them around. . . You get the picture. So we got them all up (impressing the cashier who I guess thought we were just going to leave them there?) and thrown away. She still had some in the container that were saved--thank god. It was actually pretty funny.

We all had a really nice day today.

dia de los muertos

Well, I am posting this too late to get in on the goods over at Crafty Chica. But every good altar deserves a post (even if only a picture post.)

October runs in the family

photographs

these are my children.

they did not hatch out of the earth

or a marriage

or a marriage bed.

they are my children.

they were created in my body
in a loving and holy way
with this woman.

I would not have these children
without her.

She is their mother.
My companion in creation.
My partner in the
everyday everything
of their lives.

& her
absence
in these
photographs
shames
me.

Code

"I want to be a clown!"

This means "I want to take my markers and color all over my body."

(I should say that we are all sick and stuck in the house together--all of us. all weekend. Since Friday, even. and so my answer is most likely to be. . .)

"Uh. . . Um. . Okay. Whatever."

"I can color my arm?"

"sure."

"I can color my face?"

"no. not your face, please."

"I can color my belly?"

"sure."

"I can color my hands?"

"sure."

"I can color my bottom?"

"No."

"My feet?"

"Absolutely."

So we add "i want to be a clown" to "i want to be a puppy." which means she wants to wear shoes on her feet and shoes on her hands and walk around like a puppy. She usually wants to be a puppy as we are trying to leave the house. Sure, it's adorable. If you don't mind adding 30 minutes on your trip from the front door to the car door. But, yes. Adorable.

And the little man? Thumper has 4 teeth. Count 'em. 4. And he is using them. Just today we have developed this routine where he bites me, I pull him off my breast and glower at him. I plop him on the ground and frown. He begins to cry. I'm the one that was bit and he's crying? So we wait a minute and then try again. Right now he's having a bottle with Scully. Bite away.

Because Nabil is not Saudi Enough

So my Dad was finally allowed to check in to his flight. We were all at the counter for a good two hours while the woman behind the desk called Amsterdam and tried to call Saudi Arabia (but she couldn't get the phone to work.)

My Dad.

My Saudi Dad. With his expired Saudi passport, his expired Saudi driver's license, his Saudi identity card (with no expiration date), his expired U.S. green card, a letter of extension for his expired green card, his current U.S. driver's license. All this. Even his grandson (Thumper) was vouching for him.

Two hours.

The woman had told them he couldn't travel on his expired passport because his destination would not let him enter. "But I'm Saudi." he said. She blinked. "They cannot refuse me. I am a Saudi national." My Mom tried to clear the confusion up. "He is Saudi. He is from Saudi Arabia." Hmmm. . . Repetition did not seem to be helping.

"I can only renew my passport while I am in the country. I have to be there to renew it. It is not renewed because I am not there. I am here."

And so he was. For two hours. Here, in the DSM airport.

"They have to take me. They cannot refuse me--where would they send me? They have to let me in." It seems there is not a hot market on rejected Saudi nationals.

After two hours one of the airport managers let him check in. Hamdillah.

That was yesterday. He just called my Mom to say he made it safe and sound and is with our Uncle and his son Faisal. But, wait. . .I don't have a cousin Faisal.

Apparently my cousin Nabil changed his name to Faisal. "Nabil" was a foreign name.

Big, big sigh.

Sigh that cannot capture all of the fractured parts between us Sigh.

Small Wonder

Khubz started preschool yesterday. It was pretty clear she thought she had been dropped off in Disney Land. We had had an incredible weekend, with fabulous friends & family and a fabulous birthday party (she is three!) And ever since then she had been a hideous, horrid goop of a child. Horrid. I decided she'd had too much of "being special" as a birthday girl.

I was a bit worried dropping her off at daycare. Would they expel her? And what was the report? From Khubz: "Good." That's all. Like a teenager. Just "good." From the preschool teachers? "She is so sweet!" And I scrunched my eyes together trying to check them for sarcasm. No, really. Completely sweet.

In truth, she is doing great at preschool. I get dribbles of information like, "they've got hats! Fireman hat and a police officer hat and a princess hat." They talked about their families at circle time today. "How did it go?" No answer. "Did you tell them Lalo's name?" (we sent pictures.) No answer. "Did anyone say 'you can't have two mommies?' or 'haven't you read the bible?' or 'SODOMITE!' or anything like that??" Still no answer.

I'm sure if someone did she could take it. She practices all her wrestling moves on Thumper--she'd get them down.

Anyway, she seems to be having a great time. So I'm posting a couple pics from her fantastic birthday party. But don't tell her. I can't have the birthday monster back for a whole nother year.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

when crawling is not enough

Its been a while friends.

Thumper is crawling. At his 6 mo checkup the doctor asked, "is he sitting up on his own yet?" No. We sit him up and he slumps over. And the next day he started sitting up. And getting in to a sitting position on his own. And then scooting to reach things. And then crawling.

He is more than crawling. He gets in a crawl position but puts his feet flat on the floor so he pushes up and shoots! forward!

It means when he crashes it sucks quite a bit. Last night I was worried he'd broken his nose by propelling himself flat into the floor on his face. Ouch.

But most of the time he chases his sister around. She loves this. He loves to head to the bathroom because it always results in a scoop up and return game.

He is just usually totally, totally joyous. And on the move. Unbelievably.

More WOW

45 minute shower.

(sorry earth--But if you add up all the days that I go unshowered or two-minute showered I think it'll even out.)

So WOW and DOUBLE WOW.

:* (kiss)

A clean, relaxed kiss for all but an extra-special, squeeky clean kiss for Scully.

wow.

It is noon.

I have just woken up.

The children are gone.
The house is clean.
The kitchen is clean.
Even the FRIDGE is clean.

I am alone in my house listening to an NPR playlist and (obviously) blogging.

I may have woken up in heaven.

This is good because last night was horrid.
Our drive back from Denver the night before was even more horrid.

While this might be an excellent time to actually blog stories I am going to go take a shower. A long, hot shower with the door closed (I usually shower with it open so I can keep an ear on the kids.) Crazy, I know. I may even lock bathroom door. Because I can.

Watch out!!

One more

I can't resist.

Not at the wedding, obviously. But a great pic of the girl from Tia Lila.

Whew!

Back from a family wedding in Colorado. Lots to catch up. As usually, I'm just posting some pics.

I suck. I know. But the pics are really good.

First Post by Khubz

"Thumper and Mommy"

"Khubz and Mommy. In the Jungle."

(or at a zoo.)

"Muddy Khubz. Khubz Muddy. With Muddy Hands"

(at the ranch. in the mud. in heaven.)

"Mommy and Mama and Khubz and Thumper. In the zoo. With Flamingos. Finding Nemo."

(at the Dallas Aquarium and we did, in fact, find Nemo.)

Dinosaur crunching Khubz. That's funny. That was funny."

"

Adventures in Ineffectual Parenting

So if the previous post were not enough to convince you that I have good and bad mommy days, let me offer up this afternoon's frivolities.

Khubz is boycotting nap. Fine. We're at home. She's staying in her room. Thumper has woken up and he and I are playing in the living room.

Khubz asks if she can join us. Nope. Not yet. Go back to your room. And she goes. I think I may have mastered this casual authority thing. Sure.

So naptime ends and I go in her room. She is naked, having cast off her dress and pulled off her diaper.

"Oh. You're naked. And what's that on your chair?" several small whitish blocks. Oh. A chunky board book that has had all the pictures torn off before it was shred to bits. "Oh. I see that you've torn up your book. Hmpf." This is supposed to buy me time.

She puts her arms up in the air and smiles like she has been chosen to be on the price is right. "And I peed!!!" Smiles all around.

I look at the room. She has taken all her sheets and pillows off her bed. This includes the plastic sheet we keep on her mattress. And she then pissed all over her raw, unprotected mattress.

I left the room.

I couldn't think of a right way to respond so I left. She said she was coming with me because "someone comin to play with me!" "No." I tell her "No one is coming to play with you. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever." I shut her door and she begins to cry. This makes me feel slightly better.

What is a natural consequence for this?

Make her clean up the mattress? Would that involve cleaner and water? She would see that as a gift, a grand adventure.

Make her sleep on the floor? We leave for TX tonight. She'll be sleeping in the car and a hotel room (also a gift, a grand adventure.)

Make her stay in her room until Scully returns home? Just. Not. Possible. This makes me feel sad.

So I decided to take the mattress. It is a bright sunny day. I put the mattress outside to let the sunlight work its magic. And what did we find?

A gift. All the lost precious toys that slipped under or alongside the mattress. Found! Treasures! Gifts!!

"Oh!" a smiling oh. "Sheep! Thank you Mommy!"

I boiled with anger.

In the end I put her room in time out which only punished me.

It will be nice to be in Texas.

"Where's Tita? Where's Tata? They've missed you. Go with them."

Terrified. Exhausted. Thankful. Furious. Blessed.

It was quite a weekend and everyone is fine and still with us.

Our wonderful friend came to stay with us and Khubz demonstrated her gratitude by going through her bag. Everything in her bag. Including some prescription meds.

Poison control hotline. ER. Pediatric Ward.

You can imagine. I can't actually say very much because I'm still violently vomiting from the fear.

It doesn't seem that she actually swallowed anything. She did some licking, biting, perhaps got a corner of a pill. We just had no way of knowing for sure. So the night was spent relatively sure she was okay but just hanging out in the hospital in case she had a seizure.

Hamdillah, she is fine. The mommies want to murder her, sure. But she is fine.

And we are blessed.

Flashback

What a difference a year makes!

Found it!

Her first "Hmpf"

We sometimes get in bad patterns, all of us do, right?

So Khubz has been going to bed later and later. This is partly due to the sun being up so much later and also due to our lax attitude. So we've started the crackdown because we can't have the two year old staying up later than the mommies.

We put her to bed and she asks for water, a different stuffed animal, she poops in the diaper, she wants to see what Thumper is doing, she needs her brother!! Whatever.

Tonight I tell her I don't want her coming out of her room unless she has pooped or needs to poop.

So she poops, I change her and tuck her back in bed.

She comes back out to see "what you doin, mommy?"

I tell her to go to bed.

She goes to her room. The light pops on.

I turn the light off.

She tells me she needs me to put the blanket on her.

I tell her no. When I tucked you in I told you I wouldn't come back in to do your blanket.

She wails. I leave. The light pops on. I ignore it. She beings kicking the wall with her feet.

I go to her room and turn the light off. "You do not get to kick our walls." (internal mommy: what the fuck will I do if she persists? How does one put the wall in time out??)

Okay Mommy. I leave. The light pops on.

I open her door walk in and turn the light off at the pull chord (which she cannot reach.)

Khubz looked at me, cocked her head and said, "Hmpf."

I shit you not. She "hmpf"ed me.

I left the room. She asked me to put her blanket on. I almost did I was so impressed with her use of the "hmpf" but I held my ground.

All seems quiet in there now but Thumper. . .Scully just finished his bath and Thumper is definitely in need of a beer. "Mommy! Get! In! Here! Now!!!"

I told Scully, "three minutes! Give me three more minutes!"

I heard Thumper's silent hmpf as well.

Okay, I'm off.

Stilted Exchange

My beloved Scully is back from a 4 day work trip out of state. While she was gone about 42 of my people (not kidding) gathered at Mom's house for family reunion of sorts. 16 of those people were under 13 years of age. It actually went really well. Khubz had a blast with her cousins, was thoroughly adored by tias and tios, and Mommy even got a nap (wow!)

Thumper's ear infection seems to be on the mend. My sinus infection is just about cleared up. The antibiotics have given me a helluva yeast infection but that's to be expected, right?

There's a lot of stories to tell, but as usual, I have other plans.

Scully, Khubz, Thumper and I all went out to a nearby lake. It has a great meandering path around it and it was a beautiful evening. While there a man on a bike slowed down behind me (even though we always clear out of the way) and finally he said, "Eh. . . 'scuz me? Fruit'femme?" only he used my real name (pronounced correctly.)

Ah. . . Ghazzi. One of my dad's old friends (or used-to-be-friends? I can't tell if they had a falling out or just lost touch.) I remember Ghazzi from when I was a kid. The last time I saw him was one sister's weddings where he was taking the photos.

"You remember me?" he asked in well spoken, Arabic-accented-English.

"Oh, yes. Yes--how are you?"

And so it begins. How are you. How is your Dad? How is your Mom? How is K? T? N? J?

I answer all questions briefly, everyone is good. I'm holding Khubz hand and I have not introduced her. Scully (because she is unbelievably fucking wonderful) has smiled generically and taken two steps back with Thumper in the stroller. She gets very busy giving him his pacifier. I don't introduce Scully. Or Thumper. I act like there's nothing to say about the family around me. My family.

And please, no menacing me with a damn rainbow flag. This is not about a lack of pride on my part. Actually, I am completely and often obnoxiously proud of my family--which includes feeling proud of my dad.

It is one of the things that has made moving back here very complicated. Sharing a community with my dad. More than that--his friend, ex-friend, whatever, walking along the lake suddenly turns our nice little stroll into a complex chemistry formula with respect for Dad's boundaries, understanding culture, what does/does not need to be explained, representing my family, teaching Khubz and Thumper, being around an occasional Arab who may/may not know my dad and what that may/may not change for us (all of us) as a family. . . Mix all of this up in a test tube and wait for something to pop.

It is way too fucking complicated.

We go over to my parent's house every day. We just had a fucking family reunion and my dad's best friend (my godfather) was holding my son and laughing about how beautiful he is. This is the man that came to be with my father when Scully and I got married so my dad would not be alone that weekend. Khubz was calling them "The Grandpas." I don't feel like my dad needs to prove anything and I don't want him to feel like I'm crowding him.

We spend a lot of time dancing around each other's hurt feelings. I just don't think we need to introduce potentially flammable other people into the mix.

It just makes me feel shitty though.

Just completely shitty.

no mommy. you no sing. you listen

theres a reason we call him smiles

2 Cures for boredom: A Camera plus

A googly eye

(damnit let someone else take the picture!)

Or a new hat

One hour later

Okay, he's down again.

More things to remember?

Khubz talks a mile a minute now. She picks up all kinds of expressions and sometimes her context is a bit hit/miss. "Pues" is spanish for "well" as in "well. . . let me tell you." She would just interject it anywhere in a story. She's also saying, "I can't believe it! I just can't believe it!" She likes to make Thumper smile by singing to him. Then sometimes she likes to make him cry by growling (and it works.)

Thumper is 17.9 pounds. He is 25% for height and 75% for weight. I take this as proof that he came from my body.

Our best days are when I get a shower and when I get up before at least one of the kids. Khubz goes to bed much later now (8, 8:30 and on hazardous nights 9) and so she'll sleep till 7 reliably. Scully catches the 7 am bus to campus so I ususally just blow her a kiss as I'm staggering out of the bed. We usually go on an adventure in the morning to a park or store or something. Over to Grandma's for lunch, storytime and nap. We sometimes have an afternoon adventure but more often just play at Grandma's for a couple more hours and then head to campus to pick up Mama.

When Khubz is hyped up (like tonight) Scully will take her on an adventure after dinner. This is bliss. It gives them one-on-one time. Thumper and I get individual time and/or sleep and/or the latest episode of House in.

It seems my posts are mostly postcards on the kids--that's just how it is right now. I don't scrapbook but there's a lot I don't want to lose. Like this

Things to remember

Khubz is 80% potty trained. We put a diaper on at bedtime and naptime. I think we'll be preschool ready by September.

Thumper found his feet two days ago. This is unbelievable fun! He can't yet munch on his toes but that's coming.

Thumper has an ear infection and I have a sinus infection. We are both on antibiotics--fun times. Everyone in the house is alseep right now (it's 9pm) except me. I am exhausted but I never have the house or my arms to myself and I'm not going to waste this opportunity!

Thumper is eating rice cereal and applesauce. He loooves the applesauce. This also means that we no longer have newborn diapers. Bring on the baby poop.

And, as is obligitory, Thumper has just woken up. Unbelievable.

Okay, I'm off

blog worthy

We say it all the time. "Oh, man--that is blog-worthy!" But, as you may have noticed, I blog a whole lot less than I used to. And I miss it. And I have things to say.

Dr. Tiller was murdered. I was speechless. I rented an old documentary on anti-choice fundamentalists (I've been asked to stop calling them fetuses extremists.) It is all terrifying. And though I have seen media calling the fundies "terrorists" I haven't seen this documented as an "honor killing" or questions about how their flawed, violent, patriarchal culture/religion makes them this way. I am so sad that he was murdered. If you don't know about the Peggy Bowman Second Chance Fund, go visit and donate if you can. They helped women directly and worked with the clinic in Wichita.

"The worm is broken. The worm broked. I have two wormz." We took the kids fishing tonight and Khubz got to adopt a worm. It is her pet or, I guess now, her pets. She had a blast. And now she is blissfully passed out in her bed.

Her brother, of course, is exercising his lungs.

So though there is much more that's blog worthy. . .

we are still here

And growing

And fishing (with grandpa)

And getting in touch with our inner citrus-y sherbert-y self (doesn't he look totally edible?)

And communing with the goddess a bit (in this case, on vacation)

And posing a bit

And goofing off a bit (Thumper is being eaten by his best friend, a silver sting ray. He adores it! And Khubz is up front and center, as she is accustomed. Scully is there as back up and I am left to document the hilarity that is a toddler, an infant, two mommies and a sting ray in a hotel room)

simple fix

What do you do when you wake up too late to roll out the roll dough and let it rise properly? Put it in a warm oven, of course. And what do you do when the oven is actually too warm and the rolls rise and then deflate looking like rolls that have had gastric bypass surgery? Tell everyone they're an exotic cross between rolls and flat bread! (I inform Scully, who has a pot luck today at work.) And when said mysterious bread product is then burned in the oven? What do you do then???

Celebrate! These damn rolls are not meant for consumption!

I told Scully "tell everyone that the children are fine but the rolls suffered a terrible death."

I do wish things at her office weren't so contentious. (How can a potluck be contentious?? but it is.) If we were in lawrence I'd have brought the overly browned hockey pucks and we'd have all just laughed about it.

Good thing the oatmeal cake turned out okay.

Recent developments

Thumper has started playing. He likes to grasp something--anything, smile and squeeze it. This is particularly funny if what he is grasping is his sister.

And Khubz has moved on in her dreams. For months we'd say "what are you going to dream about tonight?" and she'd say "a monster like grover" or "big bird in his nest" or any number of Sesame Street friends.

Tonight out of the blue she says "tick birds." Big Bird? "No, Mommy. Tick Birds on a rhino. Eating comida. Tick birds."

Thank you, Animal Snackers for spicing up dreamland.

Welcome Ryah!

Sometime last night sister Samm became Mommy Samm to Ryah. Welcome sweet little girl. You gave your Mom and all of us quite a start coming almost two months early. But we are totally proud of you for fighting so hard to come into the world. We are so grateful you decided to stay.

Congratulations to us!!!

Worth a thousand words

A big welcome from the great state of Texas.

Please note furious winds--I had to stop taking pictures and hold my skirt down. Khubz was very excited to identify the letter X for us. Also see her aforementioned cowboots.

I flip Texas a lot of shit even though George Bush is finally out of office. But many, many fabulous things happen there. Just take a look!

Our son meets the goddess

Beginning BlueBonnets

Khubz as CowGirl doing the Spiral Dance

These boots were made for walkin.

She picked them. She loooves them.

Of course they're pink.

Khubz: "See my harry potter? i very braaaave."

Scully: Well, now she's a real texan. She was attacked by a mesquite tree and

lived to tell the story.

Smiley Smilerton enjoyed himself.

Here he is demonstrating "guffaw."

I'm sure its because I said something very, very funny.

Competition for eggs was hot at the ranch. Khubz held her own. Thumper simply charmed people in to giving him their chocolate.

Frog catching, turtle spotting and all the mud a kid could ask for.

Yes. She rode this with her cousin. Dissatisfied being a side kick she also drove it. By herself. Scully fixed it to go about 2 mph. I was still pretty sick watching.

What a great day!!!

And this one was all smiles. He was cackling with laughter even when we were at walmart. People stopped and stared because the sound of laughter had never before been heard at the walmart checkout.