Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Under the Table and Dreaming (or navel-gazing on New Year's Eve 2008)

Should I or shouldn't I publish this post? That's something that I've been struggling with since I wrote it back on New Year's Eve. On the one hand, no one could possibly be interested in this type of navel-gazing (to cite the title of this post). On the other hand, my dedicated readers like full access to all of my ruminations. Nay, they demand access to those ruminations. And someday I'll look back on this post and think about how young I was at 36.

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I started feeling old around 1:00 yesterday afternoon. The Philly relatives are planning to come down to D.C. for the Georgetown-UConn basketball game, but because they want to attend the womens game, which led to some initial confusion on our end, we need to pick up the tickets at the box office on campus. While the Hoya men play at the Verizon Center with tickets sold online, the women continue to play at McDonough Arena on the campus with tickets only sold on site. Incidentally, it's going to be a slaughter - UConn playing G'town in womens basketball is like the best team in the country playing a high school team. Oh well, at least we spanked them this past week in mens b-ball.

In any case, Maddie and I headed over to buy tickets yesterday after lunch. It was a stunningly sunny day as we trudged down O Street towards campus. In general, we don't spend much time west of Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. For one thing, it's dirtier, more crowded, and louder over there than on our side of the neighborhood with lots of students and their messy trash cans crowding the sidewalks. More importantly, I tend to get a little weirded out when walking through my old college haunts, constantly seeing carbon copies of my twenty-year-old self. Luckily, the school is on break, so Maddie and I had a peaceful, student-free walk through the campus to the box office. On that walk, we passed through the main quad, by the library, and down the road past my old dorm where I looked up and unsuccessfully tried to figure out which window was my freshman room. After finding the box office closed, we wandered back through old paths that I took numerous times during my college years, marveling at the new construction. It was simultaneously striking how much things had changed, but how much was just as I remembered it from back in the day. Maddie and I walked back home, sans tickets, with thoughts of how, at the end of college, the world is spread out before you like a blank slate just waiting for you to make your mark. Not that one has regrets, but one naturally wonders what could have happened differently with different decisions. Hell, rather than working for the Board, I could've made a mint at Lehmans and helped bring down the world. That's probably not better, but it would've been different.

Last night, a colleague of mine from work posted a playlist on his Facebook page comprised of songs that his research assistants suggested. The list included a bunch of old bands, like the Clash, but what really caught my eye was the inclusion of Joy Division. They were a late '70s punk/new wave band whose career was cut short by the suicide of their lead singer back in 1980. "Geez," I posted on John's page, "Were any of your RA's even alive when Joy Division was?" "Nope," he replied, "But you have to admire their knowledge of and enthusiasm for that era." A historical study for them, but I remember listening to Joy Division and the Clash in middle school. And listening to the old, but cool, bands like the Doors. R.E.M. was an underground, college band, while U2 had just started to break through.

Today, Abby and I took the kids to daycare where we offered Margaret the opportunity to stay home with Papa, which she declined in favor of Power Tots (her toddler gymnastics class) and Show-and-Share (her show-and-tell event at school.) I dropped Abby at work and headed out shopping to see if the stories of outrageous sales in our recession-bound economy were true. While waiting to pick Abby up afterwards, I flipped between radio stations. Q101, the "alternative rock" station from my earlier years in D.C., and 107.3, a "mix" station that plays "hits from today and yesterday." In both cases, I was struck by how many songs they played from the early '90s. Q101, which ostensibly is still a "hip" radio station, was particularly dominated by grunge and descendants of grunge. I sat there and listened to Pearl Jam ("Betterman") and Blind Melon ("No Rain"). About halfway through the latter song, I started thinking about how old the songs really are. At least 15, and perhaps almost 20, years each. In some part of my mind, I still think of these as "new" songs, but they're really no newer than the Monkees song ("Pleasant Valley Sunday") that I heard on the official "classic rock" station.

Music is an interesting thing. In some ways, it can take you back to the time when you heard the songs. Makes you feel young again, as if things haven't really changed all that much. At the same time, however, it can make you realize how far back that time actually was. So, I sat there in the car, thinking about how the "Big Chill" and "thirtysomething" were attempts to tie the Baby Boomers back to their past through music, although the Boomers are now collecting social security, and wondering about what would be the equivalent retrospective for Generation X. Perhaps it's Q101.


To celebrate New Year's Eve, we headed to First Night in Alexandria with some friends and their daughter. Although there were tons of venues with all sorts of interesting acts, we were confined to the kid-friendly shows at the Jefferson-Houston School for Arts and Academics on Cameron Street. There, Margaret got an excellent balloon ladybug from a clown and danced to Mister Don, while Teddy lumbered all over the place. The kids had a great time while we had fun hanging out with our friends and marveling at the chaos associated with kids.

During an intermission in Mister Don's kids act, we headed next door to watch a young band in the school auditorium. They had a saxophone and a violin in addition to the standard bass, guitar and drums. My initial thought was, "These guys have some sort of Dave Matthews thing going on." In fact, the second song they played was "Dancing Nancies" from the Dave Matthews cd "Under the Table and Dreaming" (hence, the title of this post.) I sang along to show Abby that it was actually a song. Looking around, I saw a middle aged woman also singing while all the teenage kids stood with blank expressions. Later, they played "Runaround" by Blues Traveler, which Margaret and I again danced around to, along with the other older folks in the room.

Upon getting home, I busted out my old Dave Matthews cd's, having been put in the mood to listen to them by the band. I was struck by two things. First, in the cd cover, the Dave Matthews Band listed a P.O. Box to join their fan club. Think about that. Although the cd was put out in 1994, that was so long ago that the internet didn't exist enough for a band to have a website. They were still using P.O. Boxes. Second, as I told Abby, I was once able to play a bitchin' version of "Satellite" on the guitar. No more, however, as my guitar skills, bitchin' or otherwise, have long since departed.

As befits an exciting New Year's Eve with kids, the night culminated with me putting in a set of early '90s cds - Live, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and the Spin Doctors in addition to Blues Traveler and the Dave Matthews Band - to revel in that music while writing this post.

On the one hand, all of this makes me feel old. I'm convinced, based on listening to Q101, that music hasn't really progressed since the mid-90s, but I suspect that's because I'm just fundamentally out of touch. And a New Year's Eve at home eating a frozen pizza, as we ended up doing, just doesn't seem that fun. While at CVS, I spotted some couples dressed to the nines, obviously heading out for exciting times. In contrast, I was paying for our frozen pizza and trying to keep Margaret from disassembling the candy rack.

At the same time, Margaret had this enormous grin on her face while prancing around to Mister Don. Unlike the other kids who tend to walk around with blank expressions, Margaret has this big grin that she puts on during such events, like she did at her Xmas pageant at school. We see it and, despite our natural parental bias, I'm sure that everyone else picks up on it as well. She just looks like she's having a blast. And everyone smiled at Teddy as he cavorted around, shaking the various musical instruments that he managed to pick up or trying to grab (and likely pop) other kids' balloons. So what if we were listening to Mister Don sing a bad version of She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain? I sang a better version on the way home in the car, and I think that Margaret appreciates my singing much more than she does that of Mister Don or anyone like him. And Margaret loved the frozen pizza. Which really is all that's important.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Another Christmas in Connecticut

We just returned from our trip to Connecticut for Christmas. The important stuff (i.e., the pictures) are included below. But the brief summary is as follows.

It snowed a lot the days before and after our arrival. Margaret and Teddy had fun in the snow, although we spent almost as much time getting them prepped and out the door as we did actually playing in the snow. Which is pretty consistent with my recollection of snow days as a kid.

Abby and I then deserted the kids for few days to head into New York City where we hung out with Eleanor. A lot of fun (esp. being sans kids), but I don't think that I could live in NYC at this point in my life. Too dirty, too crowded and too expensive. But it's a nice place to visit. Although it was cold. Damn cold.

Margaret enjoyed all of the hoopla associated with Christmas including making cookies and opening presents. In fact, she really seemed to grasp the gestalt of the whole event as it's defined on her mother's side of the family. She did get worn out by the excitement of opening presents on Christmas day with the initial excitement about opening each present eventually replaced by a desire to immediately play with each one.

Compared to last year when he was just a blob, Teddy was naturally more involved in the whole scene, but he was primarily interested in playing with the wrapping paper and, more generally, creating havoc. He's a walking disaster at this point, and I would just complement him with a "Good job, boy!" as he found something new to pound on.

Our drive back was fraught with delays as we ran into bad traffic throughout New Jersey and Maryland. But we sang Beatles songs and showtunes for the kids which kept them happy, for the most part, until they eventually fell asleep.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Merry Christmas!

Margaret took part in her first Christmas pageant today at daycare. For the past few weeks, she's blasted out tortured versions of "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." Often, she has sung them while we're walking home. She has especially liked to yell "Hah, hah, hah" after the line "Used to laugh and call him names" in the Rudolph song. And she has enthusiastically yelped "Hey!" at the end of the line "One horse open sleigh" in "Jingle Bells."

People that we've passed on the street have seemed to think it's funny, especially since Margaret has been sitting in the bottom seat of the stroller lately so they haven't been able to see the source of the little voice spouting these songs until they've passed us. But it's been like a broken record for me, although it does keep her from moaning, another favorite pastime during the walk home.

In any case, Margaret was very excited about the show. Once they came out to perform and she spotted us, however, she collapsed into tears. One of those "I'm a baby girl" episodes that she's exhibited lately. It took a while to get her back with the group, but we eventually managed to do so, and she was happy enough once we did. Funny thing but, after all of the practice in the stroller and at home, Margaret appeared to forget the words when the time came to perform. She couldn't even really manage a "Hah, hah, hah" or a "Hey!" at the appropriate points. But we couldn't really fault her as all of the other kids seemed to suffer from similar stage fright.



Thursday, December 11, 2008

Early Xmas photos

We got our Christmas tree over the weekend. Margaret and I decorated it while Teddy tried to pull down the ornaments until he was banished to his bed. We also tried to take some photos for our Christmas cards, but we weren't very successful, as you'll see in the photos below.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

"It's just very frustrating..."

During our recent trip to Cleveland for Thanksgiving, a number of my dedicated readers admonished me for playing favorites. "He's a good boy," they said about Teddy. "Just look at him go! Even if he's getting in trouble, it's nothing personal."

Before getting into the important substance of this post, a few of notes about our trip to Cleveland. First, Abby, Teddy and I visited the "Christmas Story House" where we were photographed in front of "a major award." Frankly, the visit wasn't worth the $7.50 we each paid for admission, but I suppose that, as Abby said, we can at least say we've done it. Second, I got a number of comments, and read numerous angry columns in the Cleveland newspaper, about how the Feds refused to bail out some Cleveland bank and instead gave money to some Pittsburgh bank that was used to buy that Cleveland bank. What's funny (sic) is that a colleague of mine who spent the holiday near Youngstown got reprimanded in a similar way by his relatives. Upon returning to DC, his impression was that Ohio is a really depressed (and depressing) place. I'm not sure if I'd go that far, but some people there certainly are bitter.

In any case, back to the subject of this post. Despite the fact that I praised Margaret and slandered the boy in my last post, since our return, Margaret has repeatedly done her best to tick us off. She has become, almost overnight, incredibly petulant, often about completely trivial issues.

An example. One of her recurrent complaints involves getting an insufficient number of some food item. Margaret wants a certain number of fig newtons or olives or croutons, and so on. Specifically, she wants FIVE of whatever she's been given, and she holds up her hand, with fingers spread, to indicate how many she wants. (What's really ironic is that she often doesn't bother to check whether or not she actually has five of the relevant item.) These foods tend to appear either before dinner or as a post-dinner treat. In the former case, we'd like her to hold out for more stuff until dinner. In the latter case, how can she complain about how much dessert she's getting? But she's very adamant about needing five! So she starts to wail at which point we try to explain, in vain, how she can't have more. Perhaps we're being too stubborn, but it inevitably deteriorates to the point where we're threatening either to take away the food that she has (which elicits more howls) or to give her a time out in a chair or her bed (which gets a similar response.)

This type of stubbornness, often accompanied by wailing, has occurred in lots of situations since we've gotten back from Cleveland (e.g. her clothes, who dresses her, what shoes she wears and so on.) I start by trying to reason with her, often by pointing out the unimportance of the relevant issue. No luck. Then I try to ignore her or move on to something else. This occasionally works, but often doesn't (and it can be hard to ignore her as she dials up her crying.) Next, I move on to arguments about how things could be worse, noting how unpleasant she's being. Again, no luck. We eventually escalate to the point where I start making threats (e.g. time out in bed, food taken away.) At that point, we're done. She's howling, I'm completely pissed off, and no one is being very rational anymore.

A few months ago, a neighbor across the street dropped off a few books about toddler behavior problems. In the past, I haven't been too keen on consulting those types of books. They tend to involve impractical advice that, frankly, doesn't apply to my perfect little daughter. And, in any case, my parenting skills are such that I can deal with any problems that arise. Tonight, however, after Margaret basically missed dinner due to a completely pointless meltdown about how many croutons she had, I told Abby, "You know, we may want to take a look at those books that Donna gave us." It would appear that the terrible twos have made a belated appearance at our house. To illustrate that it's not just me, Abby later commented, after recovering Margaret from a time out in her bed, "It's just very frustrating..."

As for the boy, he's been getting up at 4:30 in the morning lately which isn't ideal, but at least he goes back to sleep once we bring him into bed with us. And he's displaying a good sense of humor and good belly laughs that are much better than the petulant wails of his sister.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Daddy's favorite

Some of my "Facebook friends" have accused me of playing favorites.

Regarding this accusation, a first point is that, yes, I have joined Facebook. Because I bitch and moan about how out of touch I am, I decided to join the preeminent social networking site and, sure enough, I am now in touch with people from high school that I haven't heard from in years. Now, I lived for almost two decades without being in touch with these people, so I'm not sure what I've gained by being a Facebook member. Perhaps I'm still just too old to appreciate the scope of Facebook.

A second point is that the Facebook commentators are probably correct, I do play favorites with Margaret receiving more attention and affection than Teddy. Margaret is simply more interesting than the boy. She can talk. She can (almost) read books. She's just very interesting to be around.

In contrast, as my last post suggests, the boy is a world of trouble. He requires constant attention to keep him from hurting himself. And he gets fussy for inexplicable reasons. Which, I think, sums up Teddy's drawbacks at this point - he simply isn't able to provide rational reasons for his various actions. He does have a charming chuckle - heh, heh, heh. And he has a funny walk, sort of like Redd Foxx from Sanford and Son. But, boy oh boy, is he a lot of work. When we visited Philly this past weekend, someone (usually Abby) had to chase Teddy around to keep him from plunging off the stairs.

In the meantime, Margaret, Andrew and I took the train into the city to see a kids' performance by the Philadelphia symphony. While she was a bit young for the show, Margaret was enthralled by the music. And she loved the train and the pizza that we had for lunch.

So I may be biased at this point, but the girl is just much more fun than the boy. I'm sure he'll come into his own, but it just gets tiresome to follow him around trying to keep him in check.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

The Destructo Kid


At the end of every weekend, after spending two full days with the kids, Abby and I both think the same thing: it's good that the kids are heading to daycare tomorrow. I love the kids and all, and they're a lot of fun to have around, but good grief, they're a lot of work. I think that we both end the weekend with a renewed appreciation for the dedication of stay-at-home parents.

Lately, this sentiment has become even more pronouced due to the behavior of the boy. As I've noted before, Teddy has always been a troublemaker (or as Margaret calls him a "troublemarker.") But lately, it's gotten even more extreme. He is constantly, and I mean constantly, getting into trouble.
  • Heading up the stairs. Repeatedly. He'll get about three stairs up and will sit down, grinning at us, but apparently oblivious to the predicament into which he's gotten himself.

  • Getting into the dog's food container. Repeatedly. If we're not quick, he'll sample some of the dog's food. Even if we get him away from the container, he'll head right back there.

  • Standing on the chairs for the kids' table. Repeatedly. He pulls himself up, stands up on the chair, and grins, again oblivous to his precarious position and the fact that it's unclear how he'll get down.

Basically, we spend all of our time chasing him around trying to keep him out of trouble. One the one hand, he does have a charming grin that he flashes at us when he's getting into trouble. But on the other hand, it's a royal pain in the arse. In contrast, when Margaret was the same age, I don't recall needing to secure the stairs by closing the child gates. With the boy, it's absolutely necessary. It's just a matter of time before he takes a header down the stairs when one of us forgets to close a gate. Even then, I'm not sure that he'll learn. Because what's really amazing is his determination. Pull him away from something or get him out of a dangerous position, and he'll head right back to the same thing.

Abby thinks that he knows when he's doing something wrong. Such as getting into the dog's food, because we always yelp at him. I'm not so sure. I think that he's either not too bright or he's a real risk-taker. People that I've discussed this with have either appealed to sexism ("he's just being a boy!") or ageism ("he's only one!"). Both are true and may have some relevance for this behavior, but when I sit there on the couch trying to read the paper, I just have to shake my head as I watch him pull a basket of books down on his head. Once upon a time, not that long ago in fact, I was able to read the Sunday paper in peace...

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A belated post

I suppose that I have to start this post by explaining the lack of recent activity on the blog. Not that this post is that late, but given the political theme of my earlier posts, I suppose that my dedicated (sic) readers have been waiting for my insightful (sic) comments about the election.

Alas, illness prevented me from being more active in my recent blogging. It started with Margaret on the weekend before Halloween, then moved to Abby, and then passed to me. Margaret was knocked out for a couple of days, while Abby seemed to be ok as it wasn't clear that she was really sick until she noted that her sore throat was accompanied by a 102 degree fever. Once it hit Papa, however, around Wednesday before Halloween or so, he was in bed for 3 days straight with a sore throat, body aches, head ache, and high fever. So I suppose that we know who the tough people are in this family.

As for Halloween, Margaret was a dinosaur, while Teddy wore Margaret's pumpkin costume from the year before. We had some conflict as Margaret initially wanted to be a pumpkin again, but she ended up being happy with her dinosaur costume. I was pleased with that outcome as I'm shooting for gender neutral costumes for as long as I can so that Teddy can wear them in the future (next year: Teddy the dinosaur). Some people noted that Margaret looked more like a dragon than a dinosaur, but that didn't seem to throw her off. Instead, she collected lots of candy as part of the mayhem that occurs in our neighborhood during Halloween. Notably, she didn't appear to understand what she got from her trick-or-treating. When she got home, she spent most of her time sorting her treats by size, shape and color without actually eating any of it. By the next day, her treats were hidden away and, beyond an occasional request for her "trick or treat pumpkin," she didn't seem to miss anything. And I'm fine with that.

Here are some pics from the time around Halloween.



As for the election, we spent the evening watching the news with a bottle of wine. Early on, I texted some friends in Chicago to see if they were heading to Grant Park for the celebration. None of them were devoted enough to brave the crowd, although it turns out that my brother from Minneapolis was in Chicago and was young, idealistic and energetic enough to head down to Grant Park.



Around the time that they called Pennsylvania for Obama, I started sending texts saying "I think it's over." "Not so fast," my cautious friends replied. Then they called Ohio for Obama. "IT'S OVAH," I sent. Some agreed with me. Other's, perhaps remembering 2000, were more hesitant. Then 11:00 PM rolled around, at which point California and Washington closed, and BOOM, there it was. Done. Over. Nothing left to discuss. President Barack Obama.

And my initial reaction was subdued. Apparently, people were dancing around all over DC at that point. As a colleague who lives in DC Chinatown said, "I can't recall people being this excited about the outcome of an election." To which I responded, "Yeah, but what recent outcome would've excited people in DC? Or any other city? But think about those people in Alabama or Oklahoma. For better or worse, they're probably not dancing on cars." I thought about taking Maddie out to find some of those people dancing on cars, but decided that it was too late to do so.

My second reaction was one of panic. "Oh my god," I thought, "What have we done? We've put an incredibly inexperienced person in the most important position in the world at the worst possible time. Based on what? Hope? Change? What the hell?" My attempts to communicate this sentiment to Abby received little sympathy. After taking a few deep breaths, I realized that the next president was facing a world of sh*t no matter who he or she was, and Obama was preferable, from my point of view, to anyone else who could face that world of sh*t.

So, at the end of the day, where does that leave us? I dunno, but we did wander down to the "Obama Wall" at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. A pretty cool scene, although I was still disturbed by the somewhat naive idealism reflected in many of the posts. At the end of the day, I signed the wall, as you can see in the following pics.



As for the big picture, Margaret sums it up better than I ever could in the following video:

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Almost done

I have a colleague who lives in NoVa, part of the battleground state Virginia, whose two-year-old walks around saying "I Barack Obama and I approve this message." My colleague is a McCain supporter, but regardless, what are we doing to our kids? I suppose, when I vote with Maggie and get the "I voted" sticker that I put on her (hopefully, we'll get a few because those stickers are the key from her point of view), we're introducing them to their "civic duty."



Margaret had earlier looked through the rouges gallery of commentators in the Washington Post that gave predictions on the election. Her prescient observation: Lots of guys! Sure enough, out of 14 commentators, there were two women. Those women? Adrianna Huffington and Eleanor Clift. Double groan.

Monday, October 27, 2008

"I want my Mom"


Discover Pink Floyd!


The life of a two-year-old involves lots of drama. Sometimes, Margaret deals with that drama by moaning loudly and repeatedly on our way home after work. After a few blocks, I'll stop and try to console her. If that doesn't work, I'll try to reason with her about how we're almost home and she doesn't want to make Maddie sad. If she still insists on groaning, I threaten that she's making Papa angry, something that she probably should avoid. Usually, one of those three approaches works, but we occasionally have a very unpleasant walk home, with Margaret moaning, to the amusement of passersby, while Papa steams.

Lately, she's started using a new phrase to express her displeasure. "I want my Mom," she'll whine. Not Mama, which is her usual phrase for referring to Abby, nor Abby, which is the other common reference to her Mom. Instead, she plaintively intones, "I want my Mom."

This phrase has been popping up more and more frequently. On one extreme, it pops up when she's feeling a little bit cranky and wants some consolation. Now, Papa can provide that consolation as well as Mama, but she still insists, "I want my Mom." On the other extreme, when Papa is irritated or is trying to correct some misbehavior, she'll start to bawl. In between heaving sobs, she'll blubber, "I want my Mom."

We're not sure where she picked up this phrase, but she probably learned it from someone in the preschool at daycare. After all, she never uses "Mom" in everyday speech, it's just when she's feeling needy, for one reason or another. But we've been trying to quash it, because it either arises in stupid settings (e.g. when Abby's in the shower in the morning) or when Abby isn't available and there's nothing to be done.

The biggest problem arises when Teddy elicits howls from Margaret when we're at home before Abby gets home. As I discussed in an earlier post, Margaret has become quite busy which often involves putting things in bags and containers that she then carries around. Teddy, being a curious little bugger, wants to get in on the action. But when he tries to grab something, Margaret resists and often starts to scream at him. "Teddddddyyyyy," she'll howl, tugging on her bag and occasionally pushing him in the process. Until recently, Teddy has responded with a quizzical expression, but lately he has also started to howl when Margaret thwarts him. Because Margaret is the more "rational" of the two, I often try to reason with her that she needs to move her toys away from the boy in order to avoid these confrontations. Often, this doesn't work as Margaret will start to sob. The frequent end to these episodes? "I want my Mom."

(BTW, the song at the beginning of this post isn't really "pro-Mom." But I like it because I've always liked Pink Floyd, and less motivated readers won't realize why it's not pro-Mom.)

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Additional random thoughts

John McCain was on Imus In the Morning today for the first time in a while. We tend to flip between Imus and NPR (how's that for a juxtaposition) on our shower radio, and I happened to catch part of his interview with McCain. Needless to say, McCain bashed Georgetown cocktail parties again during his interview. Darnit, where are these cocktail parties in my neighborhood? And why are we not invited?

At Teddy's one year checkup, we found out that he is in the 95th percentile for height and head size, and the 75th percentile for weight. All of which is expected except for, I suppose, the weight given that they marvel at how he eats at school. Mr. Ty told me, with some wonder, that he ate six muffins in one sitting today.

Speaking of Mr. Ty, Teddy has officially moved up to the toddler room, specifically to Toddler I. For a variety of reasons, including pressure in the infant room and an outflow of kids from this Pre-K room, they appear to be shifting kids up a bit sooner than they did in the past. Initially, Abby and I were a bit concerned that Teddy wasn't ready for the toddler room, unlike some other parents who seem very concerned that their kids aren't moving up soon enough (doggonit, gotta keep my kid ahead of the curve, they seem to think.) After all, he couldn't really walk until recently. But he seems to be doing well. And his walking has gotten much better over the last few weeks.

At the same time that Teddy is moving to the toddler room, Margaret is moving to the pre-K room. Given that she's not even three yet, I'm not sure if that's a good move, but I'm not sure that there's a big difference between Toddler II and the pre-K room. And the latter is a helluva lot cheaper, so I suppose I'm all for it. And, at the end of the day, Margaret seems happy.

Last thing. As you might notice in the pictures in the previous post, Teddy is a spotty little dude. He hasn't exhibited any allergic tendencies, but he's always been pretty spotty. During his last checkup, the doctor noted that some kids are sensitive to their own saliva. Given that Teddy's a drooly kid, and likes his nuk-nuk (although not as much as his sister), this seemed to be a pretty reasonable diagnosis. We've tried to cut back on his contact with his drool, and he seems to be more presentable.

Dancing princess

We went to my cousin's wedding in eastern Ohio this past weekend, and I have a few observations.

Because we were in a "battleground" state (unlike DC where the only battle is whether the Democrat breaks 90%), we paid special attention to the distribution of political signs and stickers. Interestingly, we saw about a 50-50 split of McCain-Palin and Obama-Biden signs. And while looking for a bow tie for the boy at the Eastwood Mall in Warren OH, Teddy and I saw Obama stickers on people who sure looked the McCain-Palin part. That's certainly not scientific evidence, and I'm not sure if it means anything at all, but we were in the heartland of America that is eastern Ohio. I'll just leave it at that.

When dressing for the wedding, I pulled out my tie carrier, opened it up and found. . . a yellow rubber glove. At which point, I recalled Margaret fiddling with my tie carrier while helping Rodah clean the week before. Come to think of it, I still haven't tried to locate where she put my ties. . .

At the wedding, we spent a lot of time chasing Teddy. In fact, the boy was the big problem as he didn't want to sit still. Instead, he kept walking around wearing his little bow tie with his belly sticking out from under his little oxford shirt. Luckily, a number of other toddlers, including his second (?) cousin Brady, were trundling around the reception, so he wasn't a big problem. In fact, I noted to another toddler-chaser that we should've set up, and taken bets on, a toddler race. Notably, however, the best part was when someone else, like my Mom or Lizzie or Anna, watched Teddy.

But even still, the existence of the kids has definitely changed our "status" at weddings. As Abby noted, we now have a very different role at weddings. In the past, I would note the presence of kids, register how cute they were, and perhaps note their parents, at which point I would immediately go back to my conversation or whatever else I happened to be doing. "Gosh, aren't those cute kids on the dancefloor?," I'd think, before putting them out of my mind. Now, I am the source of those cute kids. And I'm the one being ignored by the younger set at weddings.

On the one hand, I'm sure that Abby and I could still be "fun" at weddings, even with the kids, although I'm not sure that I have the enthusiasm or stamina for such a feat. On the other hand, dancing with Margaret or watching her dance with her cousins was a lot of fun. In fact, I'm not sure whether anything that I've done at previous weddings beats dancing to some silly disco song with Margaret, Alex, Lizzie and Cousin Sarah (as Margaret refers to her).


Discover ABBA!


In the end, Teddy was completely wired. At some point, he was calmly sitting on my Mom's lap, and I asked my uncle, who could see the boy's face, whether he was asleep. Nope, he indicated, making a boooiiiingggg!!!! signal with his eyes.

And Margaret had so much fun dancing. Just before we go to bed each night, we have a routine that involves a discussion based on the question: "What do you want to talk about?" In the past, her preferred topics have been "fireworks" or various kids at her daycare. Since this past weekend, she's started to request a discussion about "dancing."

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Another celebrity sighting

Washington can be a very exciting city due to the political celebrities that we pass on the street. For example, George Stephanopoulos (sic?) has lived in our neighborhood for a while. We see him on the street occasionally and say hi when see him. We used to pass his house where his little dogs would bark at Maddie while he peered out of his second floor when we walked by. (BTW, he's really pretty short, and his dogs are reportedly responsible for the death of a DC cop. But that last point should be the subject of another Georgetown gossip-inspired post.)

Earlier, I posted about passing another political celeb, Ralph Nader, on the street.

The other day, we passed another one. Abby and I were walking the kids to daycare together, an unusual arrangement that reflected the fact that she was taking a "continuing legal education" class in a building by their daycare. As we crossed Rock Creek Park on Pennsylvania Avenue, I spotted someone who appeared to be asking for directions from repairman.

"Did you see who we just walked past?," I asked.

"What? Who?," said Abby.

"That guy, over there."

"The one who passed us on the street?"

"No, that guy over there, asking for directions."

"Who are you talking about?"

"That guy over there!"

"Is that Karl Rove?"

A few blocks later, I asked my previously inobservant wife whether she thought that Rove gets heckled in the same way that I was inclined to heckle Nader during our earlier encounter.

To conclude this silly post, McCain apparently bashed those of us who live in Georgetown for a variety of reasons. I feel so abused.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Margaret's make believe world

Margaret has recently started incorporating a lot of "make believe" into her play. I don't exactly remember what her play was like before. In fact, I don't really recall how she played at all. Basically, she would pull down a container full of kiddie cups and bowls that she then scattered aimlessly around the kitchen while I cooked dinner. But in the last few weeks, she has started to exhibit substantially more focus with her playthings. She now carries the Tupperware and other food containers around the living room, putting them in bags and putting things in them with some clear objective. She pulls the little chairs from her table around, puts things on her table, on the windowsills, and in bags, and moves around her various dolls. It not clear, to me, what she's doing. And she rarely articulates her objectives, although she'll occasionally make statements like "I'm a mama!" Most of the time, she fiddles around with various stuff while I watch with bemusement trying to figure out what she's doing. As the haphazard nature of this post suggests, it's a bit difficult to explain. But basically, she's started to show a lot more concentration and focus in her manipulation of various toys. I guess that I need to ask her what she's doing while she plays.

She has also started to become much more annoyed with Teddy when he interferes with her play. Teddy isn't nearly as focused as Margaret, but he is interested in whatever his sister is doing. So, reflecting his increased mobility, he heads in her direction and grabs her bowls, shopping bag, Legos, or doll. And she hollers at him. And sometimes pushes him, yelling "No Teddy!" With the end result occasionally being a Margaret meltdown while Teddy stares at me with an innocent expression. It can be very difficult to quell the confrontations when I'm trying to cook dinner while they mill around my legs.

As for the boy, he's starting to vocalize more and more. Tonight, he tried to "sing" the Itsy Bitsy Spider, one of Margaret's favorites. He wasn't able to do much more than wave his hands in the air, sing in a off-tune kind of way, and clap at the end of the song, but he clearly had the right idea. We tried to get a video of his performance, but he mocked me by just grinning at the camera. Still, I think that he's showing an inclination for music before his sister did. Hooray, Teddy!

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Teddy's big day

The boy is one year old today. And he's managed to hit a few milestones of note over the last week on his way to his first birthday. Most of these milestones were reached over our long weekend in Chicago...

Where the Cubs, once again, let us down in dramatic - or, should I say, pathetic - fashion. While I wouldn't have said it at the start of the playoffs, this Cubs team was honestly the best Cubs team I've ever seen. They had the complete combination of good starting pitching, relief pitching and hitting that it takes to win a World Series. Again, I never voiced this opinion before the start of the playoffs for fear of inducing negative karma, but goddamit, this was a good team! How could they just roll over against the Dodgers? Watching them boot the ball all over the infield in the third inning of game two, which I was so fortunate to attend, was indescribably painful. And the atmosphere at the ballpark as the events of that inning unfolded was unbelievably depressing.

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, what did Teddy manage to accomplish over the weekend? First, he's started to "talk." Not in any meaningful way, although he does appear to be able to say "Mama" - he can repeat it along with Margaret and me (we had a group chant going on as we waited for her to get home tonight) and he seems able to actually identify who his Mama is. But he's also started to vocalize in interesting ways with modulations of tone associated with questions and emphatic statements. All nonsensical, but he's getting the idea. And he really started doing this vocalizing over the weekend with the grandparents.

He's also walking. Over the last few weeks, he's gotten better at taking a few steps, but he managed to put it all together this past weekend. When I last saw him on Thursday, he was walking a few steps before taking a seat. By the time I saw him on Sunday, he was stringing together dozens of steps before eventually losing his balance. When I first saw him again at our friends' house on Sunday, I watched with bemused amazement as he went step -- step, step -- step -- step, step, step -- step and so on, before he finally collapsed. I don't think that I had ever seen him take more than two steps in succession, and all of a sudden, he's trundling around the room.

I'm not sure what magic occurred at the grandparents' house, but I do know that both of the kids slept in until around 8:00 on Saturday and Sunday morning. That's 8:00 CST!!!! What the hell! We can't get the boy to sleep past 5:00 EST. And then today when Abby was admonishing Margaret for some sort of misbehavior, she whined, "I wish I was at Grandma Mary's house."

Hmmpphhh.

We have other news associated with Teddy's (possibly premature) graduation to the toddler room at daycare. But I'll save that for another time. Instead, I'll close this post with a variety of pictures, including some from his birthday party at school and at home.



And some videos of the boy (with the girl always in the background - something that is likely to become a common theme in Teddy's life.)

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Ombama, part II

Margaret and I were lying in bed yesterday night. I was reading the paper as Margaret got comfortable for her evening books. I turned the page, reading something about the failed bailout package in the House, when Margaret reached up, pointed at a picture on the other page of the paper, and said, "Ombama." I glanced at the picture and said, "Yep, you're right."

"But who's that?," I asked, pointing at a picture of McCain that was immediately next to Obama's picture.

For full disclosure, despite the impression that dedicated readers may have gotten from my last post, I don't consider myself to be a real partisan, unlike Abby, as I liked McCain ok pre-2006, pre-McCain-Feingold, pre-pandering to his base, and, most of all, pre-his VP selection. While I'm inclined to favor Obama at this point, I've really just pointed him out to Maggie because his image is everywhere, especially online. Her ability to identify him is cute, in the same way that her ability identify Dora is cute. But if it happens to make Abby happy, then I'm fine with it.

Returning to my question for Margaret, she responded in the way that she often does when she doesn't know the answer, by repeating the question. "Who's that?," she asked. "McCain," I said. Got no reaction.

Then tonight, we were watching the Cubs and surfing the web while waiting for Mama to get home from work. Margaret was very excited about watching the game. She always refers to the Cubs as "Go Cubs!", and she was very adamant: "I want to watch Go Cubs!" At some point, Margaret spotted a picture on the computer that she correctly identified as Ombama. "But who's that?," I asked, again pointing to McCain. And again, no response. But she doesn't really have it down as she saw another picture of someone with his back partially turned to the camera and proudly said, "Ombama." "Nope," I said, "That's Bush."

Speaking of the Cubs, they're currently down 5-2 to the Dodgers. I haven't posted any pics of the kids in their Cubs regalia because I didn't want to jinx anything. Hopefully, the Cubs will be able to pull this one out. Regardless, we're heading to Chicago this weekend for Abby's 10th year law school reunion. We're kicking the kids to the grandparents' house for Friday and Saturday nights while we'll stay with friends in the city. Needless to say, we're pretty excited. Even better, I got a call yesterday from some friends who told me that one of them had a ticket for tomorrow night's game that he can't use. Could I take it? If I do, Abby and the kids will head to the 'burbs while I go to the game and stay in the city. I said that I had to check with Abby first. Her response: "Of course, you should go. If you don't take the ticket, I will!" So tomorrow night at 8:30 PM CST, Abby and the kids will be in the 'burbs watching the VP debate with my parents while I'm at Wrigley. Go Cubs!

Sunday, September 28, 2008

"Where's my Ombama (sic) sticker?"

Abby and I tend to be fairly reserved when it comes to politics. More specifically, we're not inclined to engage in public displays of our political leanings. This doesn't mean that we're not willing to argue about politics with various people (e.g., my in-laws, my co-workers, etc.) in private settings, but we don't tend to post signs or engage in politics in overt ways. Among other factors, the politically reserved nature of our families (at least mine) have contributed to that behavior.

In the current election, this has changed somewhat. Unlike the Philly relatives (Rachel appears to have been able to overcome our family's ingrained aversion to public politicking), we're not to the point where we've posted an Obama sign in our front yard. (Actually, as urban elites, we don't have a front yard, but that's immaterial. Still, as evidence of how out of touch we are, Margaret stood slack-jawed while gaping at Uncle Joe as he maneuvered some odd device around their yard during our last visit. Turns out it was a lawnmower, something she'd never seen before.) But Abby donated money to Obama in the primary. And so did I, although I was really motivated by a desire to avoid another Clinton White House following the debacle that was the Ohio/Texas Democratic primaries.

(By the way, it's a bit creepy how you can track down donors on the web. When I was in Chicago a few weeks ago, I was sitting at a friend's house and stunned him by punching his donations up online. Actually, I intended to stay under the FEC's limits that would require such disclosure, and I berated Abby when she didn't do so with her donation. But the Obama website gave an error message on my first donation, so I hit the back button and resubmitted my donation. I ended up giving twice. Which ironically also put me over the FEC's limit and, as a result, made my donation records publicly available online. Abby was much more equanimous about my donation error than I was about hers.)

In any event, today we went into McCain territory. Specifically, we drove "outside the Beltway" to attend the Occaquan arts and crafts show. As I anticipated, the show involved more kitchy arts and crafts than actual art. But that's just me being an elitist. Even more elitist was my impression of many of the people wandering the streets of Occaquan. As I told Abby afterwards, the mean waist size of the men was somewhere over 40 inches, and the women tended to give the men a run for their money. Reminded me of Pittsburgh. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but waist size was also highly correlated with the political stickers that people wore. Those chunky guys and their portly wives tended to wear "Nobama" t-shirts and McCain stickers. I saw a number of beefy guys wearing t-shirts that said "Damn right I'm clinging to my guns and religion because I'm bitter (and I'll keep the rest of the constitution too)." I'm not sure what that last point meant (except perhaps the 2nd Amendment part, although the statement on the t-shirts seemed, to me, much broader), but I wasn't about to argue with them over it. And after spending way too much time north of the Potomac where almost ever sign and sticker is Obama, it was refreshing to see women wearing pink t-shirts saying "Sarah's Team."

When we first reached the outskirts of the festival, there was a booth handing out blue balloons for some Democratic Congressional candidate. As someone not represented in Congress (a Constitutionally correct position, I believe, although I do like to give the rest of the country the finger with our "Taxation Without Representation" license plate), I didn't really care about the balloon, although Margaret was pretty happy to get one. But getting a balloon for a kid isn't really a meaningful political statement, as she would've taken a ballon from Idi Amin. So Abby went to the booth and grabbed a couple of Obama stickers, putting one on Margaret and the other on her own shirt. Feeling a bit uncomfortable about such an overt political statement in Nobama territory, I pulled the sticker off Abby's shirt and put it on the stroller (and got admonished by Abby for doing so.) Margaret, on the other hand, was very pleased with her sticker. Although she complained about many, many things during our visit to Occaquan, one recurrent theme of discussion was the location of her "Ombama" sticker. (Maggie also got a free little basket from a black woman selling African crafts who, when Abby protested and tried to pay for the basket, quietly said, "I like your sticker." Actually, my suspicion is that her gift says more about the mark-ups on her wares than it does about her politics.)

Naturally, Margaret doesn't really know who Obama is. However, since his ads are so omnipresent on the web, I have pointed him out to her a few times when we're surfing the web together, so she can now spot him and say "Ombama." Unfortunately, she doesn't appear to be very discriminating as she has yelled Ombama at various other people (with specific racial characteristics) that we pass on the street. Of course, this happens much more often in DC than it did in Occaquan, so we didn't risk any embarrassment there.

In the end, Margaret's Obama sticker ended up making it's way to the back of her shirt. Since she spent most of her time in Occaquan in her stroller, we didn't get many comments. (Although I heard a group of older women wearing McCain-Palin stickers muttering about Obama. Almost certainly not directed at us, but I was feeling paranoid.) We then went to the Workhouse Arts Center in Lorton, VA which is an old prison that has recently been converted to an arts center like the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria. Very cool, especially for NoVa (damn, I'm being an elitist again!). I suspect that Margaret's Ombama sticker would have been better received there, but she spent most of the visit snoozing the stroller. We then went to the multicultural melting pot extraordinaire where Margaret enthusiastically ran around with her Ombama sticker on her back, and I'm sure that most of the patrons were at least moderately inclined to favor her candidate. That multicultural melting pot extraordinaire? IKEA.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Walk tall



Dear god, the boy can walk. At least, he's starting to walk. This will not end well....



Note also how Margaret refers to Mama as "Abby." Margaret has been referring to her Mama in this way for some time. Abby doesn't like it, but we haven't been able to stop it.

Also, as the video suggests, Margaret loves her books. Especially her Skippyjon Jones books, which are really strange books that involve a Siamese cat who encounters all sorts of odd adventures when he morphs into a Chihuahua. As the reader of many kids books, I've started to learn what works and what doesn't. For example, Margaret and I love the Madeline books, and I can recite the text to my coworkers on demand.

"In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. In two straight lines they broke their bread. Brushed their teeth and went to bed..."

But it's almost impossible to describe the Skippyjon Jones books. You just have to read them to see how bizarre they really are. By the way, Maggie's cousin Andrew introduced us to Skippyjon Jones, which is very fitting.

This past weekend, we met some of my college friends at a park in suburban Maryland. There we found a carousel and a train. Margaret wasn't too sure about the carousel as she kept grabbing onto me. But both of the kids loved the train. As for our friends, they both work for Bank of America, so we spent some time discussing the turmoil in financial markets. "What the hell is going on?," they asked. "I dunno," I shrugged as we watched our kids running around the playground. (That's not really true, but what could I tell them?)

Friday, September 19, 2008

The boy's comparative advantage

Teddy is disadvantaged for a number of reasons. First, he's the second kid. As my last post suggests, this implies that he doesn't get the same credit for his tricks that his sister did. Second, his sister is, and I have to be humble here, exceptional. She's speaking in complete sentences, using pronouns in the appropriate way, almost reading books - she's just a really, really smart little girl. (To be honest, she's probably not that exceptional, but I have only one data point and she's my kid, so I'll conclude that she is.)

But one area in which Teddy beats out his sister, even now despite their age difference, is his coordination with balls. In particular, when you toss a ball to Teddy, he can actually grab it. And can then toss it back to you. In contrast, Margaret consistently gets bonked on the head during such an exercise despite her participation in Power Tots at school - she'll come home and wave her legs around to display the tricks that she's learned in class, but she still can't catch a ball. Teddy, however, can. In fact, it was a bit amazing when we first started rolling balls in his direction. We expected him to flail futilely, trying to grab the ball, but he'd end up missing. Yet, he was able to corral the ball, gather it, and then send it back in the direction that it came. This leads me to think that we may have a future sports star on our hands.

While this isn't the best video, it at least indicates his skill with the ball.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Changes in childraising strategies and philosophy

As a comment on my last post suggested, your view of children, and your approach to raising them, changes drastically with the arrival of the second child. The first child experiences doting parents who jump at every cry and monitor and chronicle every development. The second child doesn't get the same level of attention. Instead, you know that they aren't really suffering when they cry (at least, they're not suffering that much.) And that they won't kill themselves if you aren't constantly monitoring them, given that you've taken certain base precautions - like blocking the stairs - to keep them out of trouble. (When talking to a soon-to-be dad at the dog park, I searched my mind for any piece of wisdom that I could give, and I came up with: "They're pretty resilient little things. They seem so fragile, but they're really pretty tough. So you're unlikely to hurt them when you change their diapers, even if they cry a lot.")

Every achievement of the second kid also isn't documented as assiduously. The boy can pull himself up on stuff? Well, he'll fall back down to the ground pretty soon, so at long as nothing sharp is around, that's ok. The boy can walk a few steps? Same attitude that accompanied pulling up. The boy is babbling? Is he interacting when doing so? If so, that's pretty fun (Teddy likes to go "Uhh" to which I respond "Uhh." We'll then go back and forth grunting at one another, which is a blast. I don't recall Margaret doing this, but maybe grunting is a boy thing.) If not, let me get back to cooking dinner.

A friend of mine with four (yikes!) boys (double yikes!) noted how few photos were focused on his fourth kid, especially compared to the first. Instead, the fourth kid mainly shows up by chance in various pictures.

Now, this isn't a very insightful post because a decrease in attentiveness has to arise with later kids as does a decline in the novelty of the tricks that they display. But I got a chuckle out of the difference when archiving photos and videos tonight. For example, observe the care with which Margaret is fed in the first part of the following video. And the clear wonder that accompanies her ability to put food in her mouth. Contrast that to the clutter on the boy's tray and the absence of any concern about whether he's actually eating much of his food or is just making a mess. (Turns out that until very recently, he has generally missed his mouth with a good portion of the food that he has tried to eat manually. Maddie loves that.)

Monday, September 8, 2008

Sunday, September 7, 2008

More dead fish

Well, our fish managed to hang on for a couple of days before succumbing to some unknown malady. Which, I suppose, is better than two hours for the last batch. Margaret and I checked them out on Tuesday morning, and we saw one of them scooting around, but the other was AWOL. Given that they were pretty good at hiding, we peered around for a while until I spotted one motionless at the back of the fishtank. The next day, we initially couldn't spot the remaining one, but we eventually found it hiding in a plant. I was optimistic that that one might hang on, but the next day it was "sleeping," to quote Margaret. Luckily, her sense of mortality is very limited so she hasn't been troubled by the repeated deaths in our tank. As for the boy, he just wants to eat (and is getting better with "finger foods") and get in trouble, so the fish don't even register with him.

At this point, I'm thinking about buying a test kit to see what, if anything, is wrong with our water. But when I note that we only spent $1.98 on the last pair of fish, we may just try again.

Monday, September 1, 2008

An update

Because I've been slack about posting lately, we have lots to report. Let's start with the most interesting news about the kids: They're starting to fight. Or, to be more accurate, Margaret is starting to fight with Teddy while he happily and cluelessly goes about his business. Unfortunately, his happy-go-lucky attitude sometimes brings him into conflict with his sister. For example, watch what happens when Margaret repeatedly decides to put a Lego box on her head...



Papa could just sit and laugh while snapping photos. At other times, however, it's not all fun and games. Today, for instance, Margaret decided to push Teddy a few times. While Teddy suffered a bit by hitting the ground, he didn't seem too fazed by it. On the other hand, the rest of us suffered greatly when Margaret screamed, lay on the floor and kicked her feet during the "time out" that her mother made her take.

In other news, I went to Chicago to watch a Cubs series the weekend before Labor Day. Going back to Chicago and sitting the section 514 with my friends always makes me feel like I'm 28 again because I had season tickets in that section when I lived there. At the same time, however, staying up until 3:00 AM CST to watch the men's Olympic basketball final with my friends without kids makes me feel old when I want to go to bed.

While I was gone, Abby's entire family came to her assistance. I pointed out to Abby that no one comes to relieve me when she's out of town. "Do you want my family to come into town when I leave?," she responded. Touche. While I was gone, they had all sorts of fun, including a trip to a farm owned by one of Abby's relatives in Maryland. I don't think, however, that they had as much fun as I had at Wrigley Field. (Especially because the Cubs won all the games I saw. "Boy, the Cubs look great this year," I thought. Until I realized that they were playing my hometown team, the Nationals, so it wasn't like the Cubs were playing a major league team. More like a AAA or AA minor league team, I think.)

Over Labor Day weekend, we took our annual trip to Philadelphia to visit the cousins. As usual given the dedication that my sister's family has to kid friendly events, we had a great time doing all sorts of kid oriented activities. On Saturday, we went to a concert by the Jimmies, a kids band who plays music that also appeals to parents. This is a huge (and probably fairly lucrative) genre as bands like the Jimmies play music that gets the kids up and dancing while the parents drink beer (not us, although we noted it) and tap their feet at 11:30 AM on a Saturday morning.

Then on Sunday, we went to a farm where we rode a tractor into the fields (such fun!), picked fantastic peaches (our kids now love peaches) and other produce, and ran around a big playground. My reaction was: "I'm glad I'm not a migrant worker" as I got all scratchy while picking eggplant. Followed by "the owners of this farm are geniuses to get us to pay to pick their produce for them."

We came back early today and went to the zoo. We seem to have found a key spot to view the pandas from a lunch spot that is above, and technically behind, the main panda venue. It's generally nice because it isn't too crowded, but we've also had good luck spotting pandas from that spot. The last time the Philly cousins were in town, we watched the pandas jump around in the trees about 15 feet away from us. Which was amazing because, in most of our visits, the pandas have typically been either hidden or sitting still. During that visit, I kept saying, about the cousins, "They have no idea how lucky they are to see this" as the pandas bounded through the trees. The pandas didn't do much this time, but at least we got to look down on one as it did the standard, neurotic pacing that zoo animals tend to do.

But most exciting: We bought two new fish at the PetCo near the zoo. And even more exciting: They've survived the evening. We've let our fish tank sit since the death of the previous batch, so most of the nasty chemicals should have dissipated and some good bacteria should have developed. The guy at the PetCo was astonishingly talkative, but also pretty helpful. "Don't put too many fish in at once. Buy a few and wait a couple weeks to see if they survive." And "You don't want to put tetras in a new tank" but "cherry barbs (the two that we got) are really great for establishing a new tank because they handle the ammonia spikes better." Now, I have no idea if this guy is telling me the truth, but at least I only spent two bucks for the two fish that we got, rather than five for the fish that I thought about buying. As I said, those two fish were alive as of 8:30 PM when Margaret went to bed, so it's better than last time. And, when I turn on the light, they appear to rush to the red plastic plant in the corner. At first, I was worried that they were stuck, but I've decided that they're just smart to hide in a plant that's similar in color to them. Of course, tomorrow I may post that they're dead as well, but I'm holding out hope.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

The many faces of Teddy

For a variety of reasons, the blogging muse has deserted me lately. While I may or may not write about those reasons at some point in the future, I'll still be sure to post some pics for fans of this blog.

And here are some of the Tedster showing his increasing ability to "voice" his opinion.



Here are some additional photos, including some from a trip to Great Falls. A while back, when Teddy was just a little bugger, we went to the Maryland side of Great Falls. Today, we went to the Virginia side. In light of our experience today, including a Park Service Police helicopter that hovered to "yell" at some kayackers who were misbehaving, I think that the Virginia side is better than the Maryland side. Here are the photos.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Another saying

Another saying:

  • "Living the life of Riley."

The Great Fish Massacre of 2008

A few weeks ago when Abby and the kids were in Minnesota, I ordered a fish tank online. I'd been thinking about getting Maggie a goldfish in a bowl for a while. My thinking was that we'd get a cheap bowl and cheap fish so that if it died, we'd flush it and buy a new one. But I went a little overboard and bought a bookshelf fish tank complete with a filter, overhead light, and thermostat. I also got a bunch of "ruins" decorations, so that we'd have a cool little fish tank with an ancient Greek theme.

We didn't get any fish, however, because we knew that we'd be heading out of town shortly thereafter. Finally, we took a trip today out to NoVa where we dropped off a bunch of baby stuff at Goodwill, bought a bike seat for Teddy, and stopped at PetCo to buy some fish. Consistent with our goal to avoid dumping too much money into the fish tank (especially given my childhood experience with fish - more on that below), we bought five fish for about ten bucks. We came home, filled the tank, placed the rocks and decorations, and let it sit for a while with the fish in their transport bag.

We had fish at various points during my childhood. However, it never worked out well. My recollection is that we either went on vacation and the fish died, or the tank grew algae and the fish died, or the fish just died. Our newly purchased fish were no different. In fact, if anything, they were worse than I remembered. After a couple of hours, Margaret and I went up to look at the fish. "Hmmmm," I thought, "That guy floating near the top doesn't look good. Where are the rest of the fish?" I then spotted three of the others lying on the bottom. The only current survivor is a bigger fish who doesn't look like he's in good shape. "Did you give them food?", Abby asked, as if that would've warded off whatever poison killed them. Which, it turns out, probably resides in DC water. The chlorine and other chemicals in DC water appear to be pretty bad for fish. We didn't spend too much money on them, so I'm not too disappointed, although I do wonder whether PetCo's 15 day fish guarantee will apply when you've clearly slaughtered your fish. But even more important, I wonder whether the toxins in DC water that are bad for fish might also be problematic for the kids. That's why we mainly give them bottled water.

By the way, if any of our dedicated readers have any info about how to care for fish (such as introducing them to a new tank, etc.), please let me know what we should do. Because as pathetic as this experience has been, we'll probably try again. With distilled water, or something like that.

Some unrelated photos (except for the bottled water in the background):

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Pics from the Southwest

I don't have time to post any "deep thoughts" on our recent trip to New Mexico and Texas, but here are some photos for you junkies out there.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

"Carry!!!"

We're back from a trip to New Mexico and Texas. While I'll write more about the trip soon, I wanted to post a photo of Margaret at White Sands, NM that, I think, captures her mindset at this point.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

"Make another choice"

As Margaret's vocabulary has expanded, she's also become more opinionated. "No!" is, of course, a key word, used in an infinite variety of settings. "I want more" is another key phrase (note the appropriate use of the first person pronoun, something that's become more common.) And "Give it back!" is common. More advanced statements involve requests for a particular route on the way home ("I want to see a firetruck" involves walking by a fire station, while "I want fountains" takes us to the fountains outside the World Bank.) Or "I want a special treat" when she finishes her dinner and wants ice cream.

Yesterday morning, Abby and the kids were lying in bed. I came to join them, but had to scoot over Margaret to make room. "Make another choice, Papa, make another choice," she said. Then "Walk away, Papa, walk away. Go to another room, Papa." Having never heard (or said) these phrases before, Abby and I quizzically looked at one another (before laughing.) As Margaret later "told" us, it turns out that Ms. Mary at daycare uses these phrases when trying to defuse the various conflicts that arise among the kids under her care ("Ms. Mary says make another choice!".) While we may be diluting the meaning of the phrases because the need to use them arises so often, "make another choice" and "walk away" have become favorites in our household over the last two days. Given Margaret's recent attempts to exert her independence, it's fitting that her aunt was in town for the annual NOW convention, where she picked up the t-shirts pictured in the photos below.

As for Teddy, the boy is increasingly mobile and continues to display a real death wish. Why do you insist on sticking your fingers in the fan? Why are you climbing the stairs and sticking your head through the railing? Do you really need to chew on that power cord? Alas, these type of questions go unanswered. I suppose we simply have to wait until Teddy can voice independent opinions of his own.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Soooooo big!!!

Teddy has crushed another developmental milestone for infants: For the first time, he responded to "How big is Teddy?" with the appropriate "Soooo big!!" arms in the air. When you combine that with his uncanny ability to clap his hands, it's obvious that we have another exceptional child on our hands. Now, if only he could figure out how to sleep through the night. (Note that the Tedster also has two new top teeth to accompany the two bottom teeth.)

As for Margaret, she's working on her numbers and her ABCs. She can count to ten and can almost tie the act of counting to actual things. However, when we stop on the way home to count "tractors" in a big construction site and I ask Margaret how many she sees, she'll correctly count out and point to six of them, but will then proceed to find four imaginary ones. As for the ABCs, her standard rendition goes "A, B, C, D, H, I, K..." So we're lacking a bit there as well, although she always gives a rousing close with "Now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me." She's also working on her "reading" as can be seen in the following video:

Friday, June 27, 2008

Bears, bugs and heat

Maddie and I are back home after two days hiking in the mountains. A pretty wimpy trip, I think, but we had our reasons for coming back.

This isn't one of them, but the most exciting feature of our trip was the bears that we saw. I've never seen many bears in past trips. In some places I've hiked out west, they still get shot so they're pretty skittish. Which is just as well since grizzlies still roam parts of the Rockies that we've hiked, and I don't want anything to do with a grizzly. Abby and I did see bears in an almost empty campground in Shenandoah N.P. during a trip just after 9/11. But those bears were so tame, they almost didn't count - they cavorted and wrestled in the campsites around us, and the ranger told us to bang pots together if they got too close.

Yesterday, Maddie and I were hiking up a steep hillside to a knob where we planned to camp. I was zoning out, as I often do when going uphill, when Maddie crested a little rise, turned the corner, and stiffened as she does when she's about to chase a rabbit or a squirrel. I told her to wait and, as I caught up to her, I saw a brown thing about 20 feet away, just below the trail. "That's too big to be a squirrel," I thought, immediately followed by "Oh crap, that's a bear cub." I then spotted another cub about 5 feet further on, just above the trail. We never saw the mama bear because the cubs took off away from us, while Maddie and I immediately skedaddled back down the trail. After about 100 yards, we stopped and started singing, yodelling and generally making a lot of noise. Now, I don't mind bears, but I don't want to run into a mother bear who's protecting her cubs. We eventually headed on, still singing, and the bears were gone.

Then today, we reached a four-way trail intersection. As I peered down the other trails, not the ones we were going to take, I spotted a big brown thing in the trail about 50 feet away. Another bear. And this one was pretty big. As we started up our route, the bear looked up at us and bolted, amazingly quickly, into the woods away from us. And then, when we were almost back to the trailhead, I saw another medium sized bear down the slope about 100 feet from us. He seemed aware of our presence - after all, I whistled to see if I could scare him off - but wasn't too concerned and went on tearing at his tree.

So after years of no bears, we see four in a two day span. Like I said, I don't mind bears - except for a mother bear with cubs - but I don't need to be reminded that they're wandering the woods while I'm sleeping.

But that's not the reason we came back early. Instead, it was the heat (90 degrees or so) and the bugs. And not the gnats and mosquitoes which were really annoying as they formed little clouds around our heads, but were more or less tolerable. The main problem was the ticks. I hate ticks. Even if they didn't carry Lyme disease, they're nasty little critters. And we saw more ticks in the last two days than I've seen in my entire life. It started when I picked one off Maddie after we set up our tent. Then, when we got in the tent, they were everywhere. Not swarms of them, but every 15 minutes or so, I'd spot one on the outside of the tent. I don't know if we were under a "tick nest", if those even exist, in a tree, but it was amazing how they'd drop down on us. It got even worse when I started having to pick one off me every 30 minutes or so inside the tent and toss it out the door. Apparently, Maddie must have become a magnet for them (as evidenced by the fact that I picked about 30 of them off her when we got back to the car - astonishingly disgusting which warranted a bath when we got home and may necessitate a trip to the vet before Abby and the kids return), and she brought them into the tent where they meandered around looking for a better meal before settling on me. I had visions of waking up with a dozen ticks attached to me. While that didn't happen because none of them actually latched on (as far as I know), I still had a restless night, periodically feeling a tickle on my arm or leg at which point I'd turn on my headlamp, grab one of the suckers, and unzip the door to toss it out. It was almost indescribably unpleasant. I suspect that I'll wake up tonight reaching to pick some imagined tick off my leg. Given that I probably didn't get all of the ticks off Maddie when we got back to the car and the bath might not have gotten the rest, it might not be imagined, but don't tell Abby that.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Peace, quiet and sleep



Discover Uncle Tupelo!


Abby and the kids are gone. At 7:00 AM this morning, I dropped them off at the airport, along with Grandma Nancy, to catch a plane to Minnesota. For the next 5 days, they'll be hanging out at Green Lake, MN while Maddie and I will be kid free (here and here are some old posts related to previous trips to Green Lake). They're gone. It's a bit hard to believe. As the barber at work put it, "How did you manage that?" Then the guy at Trader Joes asked, "What are you going to do?" What are we going to do? Indeed.

Before getting into our plans, I should note that it's not as if Abby is involuntarily taking the kids with her. Trips to Green Lake are a longstanding tradition in her family. But for various reasons (specifically, it's a bit boring), trips to Green Lake don't appeal to me very much. Given the outrageous price of a plane ticket to Minnesota and the fact that Margaret needs a ticket, I decided to bail on the trip this year (after all, Green Lake is a bit boring.) But the kids had to go. So I grudgingly allowed Abby to take them with her.

As for those of us left behind, we're heading to the mountains of northwestern Virginia tomorrow morning. In the past, I've taken multiple hiking trips with my brothers into mountains all across the western U.S. Recently, for obvious reasons, those trips have become less practical. So I suffer in two ways. First, I can't take trips with my brothers. Second, on the rare occasion that I'm able to go backpacking, I have to take more modest trips somewhere in the Virginia, West Virginia, etc. area. And, frankly, that area isn't nearly as exciting as mountains in the west. (Here's an earlier post with pics from an excellent trip to Wyoming.) Nevertheless, Maddie and I are heading to the George Washington National Forest where we plan to hit a number of trails. It might not be relaxing in one sense because I'll be walking with a big pack, but in another sense, with no kids, it's inherently relaxing.

Why the song at the beginning of this post? Well, when I took backpacking trips with my brothers in the past, we would always throw in Alt-Country music to get us in the mood. And Uncle Tupelo, the source of the above song, is perhaps the greatest Alt-Country group ever. Listening to this type of music with its high, lonesome sound, especially when driving through the backwoods of Virginia, is a great experience. And makes me feel as if Dan and Steve are with me and Maddie, even if they're miles away.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Screaming Eagles

Today, we went to a DC United (aka Screaming Eagles) soccer game. For no particular reason, I'm something of a fan of DC United and have been thinking about trying to take Margaret to a game for a while. Next weekend when David Beckham comes to town could be fun, but Abby and the kids will be in Minnesota (Maddie and I will either head to the mountains or will enjoy some blessed sleep at home.) I looked through the schedule for the rest of the season and decided that there aren't many other games that would work given our tight bedtime schedule. Although the weather report predicted thunderstorms, we decided we'd chance it. So we took the Metro to the game, lots of fun in itself, and scalped some tickets in the shade. (Also, it didn't rain at all.)

We had a pretty good time. DC United is still playing in RFK Stadium, the old Redskins' stadium, which is a pretty cavernous venue to watch soccer, especially when the crowd is the typical, smaller U.S. soccer crowd. The lower sections directly across the field from us were pretty raucous with lots of chants and songs which was fun to watch. But overall the crowd was pretty sedate. Margaret wore her Azurri (Del Piero) jersey that an Italian friend brought back for us after the last World Cup. Alas, it didn't do much good for Italy who lost to Spain in Euro 2008 today (we did get some good comments from people.) We sat in a section full of young girls in soccer uniforms and at some point, I turned to Abby and said, "This may be a preview of our future life." Margaret just gaped at the girls around us and mimicked them by waving the free towel that we got at the gate. For some reason, Margaret was more fidgety at this game than she was at the baseball game. About the only thing that really settled her down was her first bucket of popcorn. After an initial hesitant taste, she sat and wolfed it down. DC United won 3-1, but the game was uninspiring with the Screaming Eagles giving up one of the worst goals that I've ever seen. Perhaps it's better to watch on TV and be able to do laundry during the game than to actually go to one.



Some other tidbits:

  • For some inexplicable reason, Margaret has been calling her mama "Abby." E.g. "Abby, Margaret needs more milk!" It sort of reminds me of the Simpsons where Bart always calls Homer by his first name. We're not quite sure how to break her of this habit, but even Mr. Ty at daycare commented on it.
  • We started a new game today called "Tell me something silly." This involves Papa saying something such as "Teddy is a...big girl." Or "Maddie is a...kitty cat." It's a bit tricky since I have to mention two things, both of which Margaret not only knows, but also knows don't go together. If I do a good job, Margaret will giggle uncontrollably at the absurdity of the statement. It turns out that this works pretty well (at least it did today) to settle Margaret down when she's fussing. And it gets her to grin for the camera - in a few of the later pictures in the sequence posted above, I'm telling Margaret silly things to make her laugh.

More sayings

Since my last post, a few more sayings have popped up:

  • "Secret love for Nasser"
  • "Another country heard from"

Friday, June 20, 2008

Car show?

Margaret said something today that was quite funny. Now, it's a bit of an inside joke, so I'll have to explain. Abby's family, beginning at least with her maternal grandparents, has lots of silly sayings. These sayings are used in all sorts of circumstances, and the outsider (i.e. me) is often amazed when different family members will toss out the same sayings in certain situations. As some examples (these can be pretty cryptic and context clearly matters, so I won't try to explain them):

  • "Don't make no bull moves!"
  • "Mind your hat when you leave your seat."
  • "I'm a little stiff from bowling."
  • "Here's your hat, what's your hurry?"
  • "Early ripe, early rot."
  • "Lassiter, roll the stone!"
  • "Slow train through Arkansas."

I've often encouraged Abby's family to compile a compendium of these types of sayings. After all, they're priceless inside jokes that no one outside of the family can understand and can lead to guffaws (within the family) when properly used. At other times, they're simply tossed out (in context) with little notice.

When I first started dating Abby, I learned some of these quotes. One just picks them up after a while, basically through osmosis. At some point early in my relationship with Abby when we all lived in Chicago, Abby, her sister Eleanor, and I were driving somewhere in Chicago (in "Bluey" - how's that for an inside reference?). Since we were in a hurry, I tossed out a saying that I'd heard Abby say. Eleanor was impressed, especially with the proper use. At that point, I knew that I'd scored a coup with Abby's family. Smooth sailing from that point on, I figured. And I was right (at least until we started talking politics, long after I was firmly ensconced.)

What did I say and what does that have to do with Margaret? Well, today when Abby was taking Margaret out of the car to go to daycare, Margaret said:

"Go go go auto show."

This was part of the motto of an auto show that was held way back in Chicago during Abby's childhood. The full motto was "Let's go go go to the auto show." Followed by "To see America on wheels." This phrase is appropriately used to suggest speed when in a hurry. (The correct use would really involve a call-and-response in which one person says the first part of the phrase followed someone else saying the second part.)

What's really funny is that Margaret knew this phrase at all. Where the heck did she pick that up? Who knows. And to use it in the proper context? Perfect.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

"Back or front"

As is probably the case for any two-year-old, Margaret has numerous original phrases that mean something to her, and thus to us, but are meaningless to outside observers. For example, "Ipsy Spider" refers to the Itsy Bitsy Spider. That phrase arises incessantly when she insists on a replay of her favorite version by Ralph's World (one of those folksy, poppy, rocky groups who play kid's music that also appeals to adults, albeit not because of versions of the "Ipsy Spider" that are played over and over.) (By the way, Margaret started singing B-I-N-G-O in the car today. Abby and I didn't teach her that song, so it's good to know that she's picking up useful skills at daycare.) Another phrase is "down dairs," spoken as two distinct words, which means "downstairs."

One of her key phrases, that I've mentioned before is "back or front." That particular phrase began as a reference to our stroller in which one kid can sit in back and the other in the front. I would ask Margaret if she wanted to sit in back or front (if given the choice, she'll always choose the back), and it stuck. Then she started using the same phrase to apply to any seating arrangement in which one person is behind another. Most notably, bikes. Certainly, when we see a double bike, that's a "back or front." But more commonly, any bike with a kid seat is also a "back or front."

Lately, I've been thinking about trying to get our own "back or front" set up to take Margaret on bike rides. Unfortunately, my existing mountain bike, an old-school Trek, has numerous problems that complicate attachment of a kid's seat. I contemplated buying a new simple bike for the sole purpose of attaching a kid's seat. In a stroke of luck, Maddie and I found a older, but completely serviceable, bike put out with someone's trash during our Friday morning walk. Sure the bike was a bit rusty (especially the chain which had fused in places due to the rust) and the tires were flat, but it worked fine after I cleaned it up.

So on Saturday, Margaret and I took a trip to the 'burbs to buy a seat and a "special hat." After a first unsuccessful stop at Target, which left me concerned that our trip would be a waste of time, we managed to get a perfect "special hat" (i.e. a very adjustable and gender neutral one that Teddy will be able to use someday) and a fine kid's seat at a sporting goods store. It took me three hours, and a trip to the hardware store for more screws, to get the seat attached to the bike. Immediately after I finished, it started to rain.

But we've managed to take a few short rides on our "back or front" over the last two days. Unlike the kids next door, who apparently didn't like their seats too much at first, Margaret loves it. During our first ride on Saturday evening, Margaret requested "go faster Papa." Then at the end of the ride, she wanted to keep going and was so upset when we didn't. This should be the source of great fun in the future.

Last thing: A ketchup update. During a rare trip to Whole Foods (it's near the local hardware store where I had to buy screws for the kid's seat), Margaret and I were able to find an organic ketchup that actually has some nutritional benefits. Made with agave nectar rather than sugar, it actually has a bit of vitamins C and A. Will Maggie like it? I dunno. I tasted it, and it tastes like ketchup, but isn't quite the classic Heinz taste. Hopefully, the palate of a two-year-old isn't developed enough to notice the difference.