Dustin's probably right

Last night, upon hearing that I was in the midst of making pixie hats for the boys, Dustin proclaimed that I was in need of an intervention. I don't think he realizes how right he is.

Sebastian has been asking for a yellow pixie hat since I made the first baby sized one. So, last night I decided to go to knitting night and buy the yarn and get started. Well, of course, Dorian needed one, too. And what color did he want? Brown. Pee and poop. I can't get away from it with these two. I don't think it was even conscious on their parts, it is just who they are right now.

I purchase the yarn and was almost finished with Sebastian's by the time I left an hour later, much to the amazement of some of the women. I get home, put the kids to bed, and finish Sebastian's hat.

Then I feel bad for not having Dorian's done, so I start and finish his also. It was about 3 hours total of knitting, and with 2 rows to go my hands started cramping. But could I stop then? Oh, no. This, of course, meant that I woke up in the middle of the night with my right hand frozen in a painful claw shape.

But look how cute!

And according to Jeremy, this will make me look "magical" in the eyes of the children. I think it will only raise what I believe to be ridiculously high expectations of my abilities.

Speaking of which, I somehow allowed myself to be roped into taking Jeremy's car in for an oil change today. But that lovely minivan in the background of Sebastian's picture was stuck in the driveway. And Jeremy needed to take it to work, so I could take his car. After several failed attempts at pushing it out, Jeremy ended up taking his car with the idea that I would have the van towed out of the icy driveway and then come swap the cars to take his in for the service.

That's not really how things panned out. The emergency road service we have would not cover my working vehicle being towed from my own driveway. I did not want to pay for a tow truck, so I put a call in to my faithful savior Amanda, and went back out to try to dig out. This involved chopping ice with a metal shovel and liberally throwing steel cut oats under the tires to try to get traction. Listen. I didn't have any salt or sand and them oats are gritty. I was trying to be resourceful. I spent about an hour chopping, oating and trying to drive the car until Amanda arrived. I gave her the keys, gave the car one small push and success!

It was a little anticlimactic, but all my other work had obviously paid off. But now I only have 15 minutes to throw Dorian in the car, drive to Jeremy's work, switch cars and drive back the way I came to take the car in. By some small miracle, I made it.

However, I didn't shower yesterday (gross, I know) and now I had spent a very stressful hour doing manual labor and trying to push a car 10x my weight. Therefore, I spent the hour in the waiting room wearing my snow pants and coat, afraid to unzip and fumigate the place with Eau de Hott Sweaty Mama.

And now I get to go bake brownies which are due at school by 3:30 for tomorrow's bake sale.

I need a nap.

If every day were a snow day...

• I would get to hang out in my pajamas for as long as I wanted.
• I would still have them on while I do a DDR workout for a hour whilst the kids play on the computer.
• And I would still have them on after lunch and just put my snow pants on top to go out in the fluffy stuff.
• I would have cocoa and popcorn and watch Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.
• I would make chili and cornbread for dinner and put lots of sharp cheddar and avocado on top.

BUT

• I would have to referee 2 stir crazy children in their new favorite sport of kick fighting.
• I would have to shovel 6 inches of white stuff from the front walk, the walk to the driveway and the driveway itself.
• And I would never get to see all my bulbs finally bloom in the spring.

I love winter and I'm not ready for it to be over yet, but fantasies of spring and gardens have been creeping into my thoughts all the more frequently. I ordered my seed catalogs yesterday...

It's like a new Shangri-Las song...

And the video is creepy cool, too.

Crisis averted!

I forgot to tell y'all about this one:

Friday afternoon, as I was puttering about, I watched yet another oil delivery truck drive past my house without stopping and I thought to myself, "Hmmm... It has been a really long time with no delivery and it has been (as they say) wicked cold around here lately. I wonder how much we have left..."

I put on my boots and head down into the basement to check our handy dandy gauge which actually has numbers on it instead of some nebulous fraction and bobber system. The reading? 20 gallons remaining.

I begin to panic. It's Friday afternoon. There is yet another cold snap a-snapping at my heels. How long does 20 gallons last?! I don't know! What if I can't get a delivery? Why haven't they automatically delivered? I don't want to freeze! I really don't want to pay weekend charges for them to bleed the line if we run out! Aaaaaaaaaa!

The phone rings. It's Christine. As much as I want to talk to her, I can't pay attention because I'm freaking out and precious moments are being wasted. I pledge to call her back and call the oil company.

Me: Hi. Umm... I was supposed to be on automatic delivery, but no one has come in a long time, and now I only have 20 gallons in my tank.

Oil Company Dude: Okay, yes, you are on will-call.

Me: But, no. I am supposed to be on automatic. I need oil.

OCD: [too nonchalantly for my taste] Yeah. I'll try to get someone out there today.

Lucky for me, the delivery truck arrived within the half hour. But I unluckily had to have this conversation after 251 gallons of oil are deposited in the tank:

Driver: Are you out?

Me: [confused as I am obviously home to answer the door] What?

D: Are you out? Of oil?

Me: No. Almost. They didn't have me on automatic delivery.

D: I have nothing to do with that. [walks away]

So no one froze. Neither did the pipes. And I avoided costly repair charges for letting the tank empty. But you better believe I'll be checking again when I pay to make sure that we're on automatic delivery for the rest of the winter.

"Lazy" weekend

For a change, we actually had absolutely no plans this weekend. No visitors, no birthday parties, no holidays, no urgent errands... what were we going to do with ourselves?

Well, a lot of hanging out, mostly. Saturday we took a break from the hanging out to go snowshoeing up Black Mountain, an event I hope to get the kids to blog about later. It took us almost 2 hours roundtrip and I ended up with the jelly legs. We played video games, the kids watched some Charlie & Lola, and we started reading Matilda by Roald Dahl. One chapter last night and everyone was hooked, so we have finished almost half the book today.

And after a bit of a hiatus, in which I finished another pixie hat (they're a bit addictive), I got back to work on the baby jacket. Six more rows to go, and the sleeves will be done. Then I will just have the making up and the collar to do, as well as getting and installing a zipper.

And, because we all know how fantastic my quilting skills are (ha ha), I started cutting out pieces for a new picnic quilt. I scored a bag of random gingham fabric, with some hearts and polka dots mixed in, at the thrift store a while ago for the low low price of $1. I have had in mind making a blanket for our frequent lake excursions and this batch of fabric seemed perfect. Of course, as I started cutting I was reminded of why I don't do piecework much. Namely, I apparently am incapable of cutting a straight line whether with scissors or a rotary cutter, and it's a lot of little goddamn pieces to make a big thing. We'll see where this ends up. But now that I have a table for my sewing machine, I do have a better chance of completing this project.

My new bible

At the used bookstore the other day, I broke down and purchased a book that I have referenced more than once while browsing. It is The Child From 5 to 10 by Gesell, and though I found it in the parenting section, it is really a child development text.

And it is what I have really needed all along.

I hate taking advice. I love to dole it out. But I hate to take it. And I really hate parenting books full of high-faluting ideas that obviously would not work in our house. Or they don't even cover the things I am concerned about or dealing with. Therefore, they mostly sit on the shelf unread or just plain don't live here. (The exception being How to Talk so Kids will Listen and Listen so Kids will Talk which is a very helpful book.)

What is awesome about this book is that

• It was written in 1946 and minimally updated in 1977.
• It spells out absolutely everything about children's behaviors.
• It makes practically everything seem normal.
• It helps me feel better about what is just a phase.
• There is no advice, just information.

I have had this problem from the start of both expecting too much of Sebastian because he is so articulate and of not knowing what was a phase and what was just his personality. It's easier with Dorian because, although they are very different, there are certain phases that all kids go through and I've already been through it once. I know they will not nurse all night forever, for example, which makes the time that they do more manageable. But everything we go through with Sebastian is the first time, and he is a few months older than most of his friends, so they get the benefit of my experience, but I have no one to help me.

So this book basically just laid it on the table for me that my child (hallelujah!) is normal. I love the old-fashioned wording. My new favorite statement is, "It is not an edifying experience to be at table with a 6 year old." It really cuts the tension. When I read that section on eating to Amanda, we just laughed and laughed. How is it that someone in 1946 was able to describe the behavior at our dinner tables so accurately?!

I think all of you with children of this age group really need to get a copy. For less than $5, you can have all the reassurance you need. Go on, click the link at the top. You'll be glad you did. (I'm talking to you, Katrina.)

Too much thinking

That Beautiful Boy book is haunting me more than a little. Especially after I googled his son and found out that he has relapsed since the books came out. And while it seemed obvious that this was going to be a problem indefinitely, I didn't like being affirmed in my assumption.

So after the much appreciated assurance from the cop's wife that meth is not a problem in our town (yet), I'm feeling a little better. But after all of Mr. Sheff's hyper analysis of his own parenting and how it might relate to his son's substance abuse, I can't help but worry. Because that is what I do. I worry. And I have now had several conversations about drugs and alcohol and what is appropriate to allow a child to use or experiment with and what you should or shouldn't admit to your children about your own experiences. Hence, the much more serious than normal poll.

So, what do you think? What should you tell kids? What should you allow? What did you tell or allow? What would you have done differently with your kids? Be honest. Be anonymous if you need to. I'm just curious.

People are stoopid

In our mail today was a letter from a charity requesting a donation. Included was our "gift" of address labels. But there was also a nickel along with the statement, "This nickel could save a child's life."

So why the hell are they sending it to me?

Not only are they mailing cash to me unsolicited, but they probably had to pay more postage to do it.

So Busy I'm Dizzy

Well, that was a weekend!

Sebastian had a staggering 3 birthday parties to attend, one Saturday and 2 Monday. The Ape and the Clockwatcher came to visit with Arlo (seen here looking wistfully outside at the snow with Dorian). There was sledding and video gaming and chain restaurant food eating and radio show listening and gabbing. And after they headed back to NY on Monday morning, there was present wrapping and child chauffeuring.

I did also manage to do some reading, an activity woefully absent from my life in knitting season. I can't knit and read at the same time, so I mostly only keep up with the magazines in winter and save the books for summer. This arrangement does not please me much, but wool in the summer doesn't either. Anyway, I have been reading Beautiful Boy by David Scheff which is a memoir of dealing with his son's addiction. It is very well written, and therefore entirely devastating. I would also like to read his son Nic's book Tweak, but I may have to wait a little while. I have always been drawn to sordid stories of people's failings, but reading this story from the parent's perspective is heartrending. I can completely relate to the guilt, the second guessing, the denial that he experiences, but I hope that I never feel those emotions in the context he has to. It is hard to read about a child who sounds so like one of your own who grows up to be a lying, thieving drug addict. It terrifies me that this could be my future or the future of one of my friends. I'm sure it took a lot of courage to tell this story, and I imagine it would be helpful to anyone with an addict in the family. I would encourage you to read this, but I would advise a handy box of tissues.

Warm woollens

I finished my socks last night, just in time for what better be the coldest day of the year. It is not fun to wake up to the radio announcing a temperature of -12. And they still had school. I thought for sure they wouldn't make the kids stand on the bus stop in this foolishness since it is potentially deadly, but I guess we're trying to toughen them up or something. (Not at this house. Sebastian got a ride.)

And the other woollen goes to a young Mr. Ryan William, born yesterday (literally!) to Kevin and Beth (!!). He will be the first recipient of a pixie hat as soon as we put it in the mail. Yay for babies! (For other people, that is.)

Good news and bad news

The good news is there's probably nothing wrong with my furnace.

The bad news is I have an old house in a cold state.

Apparently, my expectations of my furnace are too high. The kind of furnace we have in a house this old when temperatures are frigid is just not capable of warming the house 10 degrees more without a few hours of work time. So, I don't have to spend a bunch of money on a costly furnace repair, but I do have to accept being chilly.

Just one more excuse to knit.

What a fruitcake!

Sebastian: Hey, Mom! Did you see I ate up all my lunch?

Me: (unpacking the backpack) Did you?

S: Yeah.

M: (finding some little bits in a container) Did you not like some of the fruits in your fruitcake?

S: I ate it all.

M: Well, what are these?

S: Oh. Well, I thought I had had enough sugar. You know me, Mom. I'm a healthy eater.


It's true. He is.

Artsy fartsy

In the last two weeks, Jeremy and I have watched 2 documentaries about artists.

The first, How to Draw a Bunny was fascinating, inspiring and hilarious. It was about Ray Johnson, a contemporary of Chuck Close, the Lichtensteins and Christo, among others, who didn't quite achieve the same level of fame that they all did. He was quite a character who had a very interesting sales approach. His output was impressive for its sheer volume. And although I suspect I would have found him more than a little obnoxious in real life, he is one of those people who leaves everyone he meets with a crazy story to tell, and therefore is fascinating to hear about.

The second film was My Kid Could Paint That, the story of Marla Olmstead. She came on the national scene as a 4 year old abstract painter hailed as a genius. Her paintings quickly began selling for $8,000-25,000 apiece. While the documentary crew was working with the family, a piece was produced for 60 Minutes which called into question Marla's painting abilities. CBS wanted footage of a piece from start to completion and so a hidden camera was installed over her workspace. The resulting painting did not meet the same standards as her previous works, and caused people to wonder if she was being coached or if she was not responsible for the original paintings at all. Her star quickly fell.

Jeremy and I spent about an hour dissecting the film and the family's behaviors. It raised so many questions, like

• What is art?
• What is the value of art?
• What makes a prodigy?
• Is it fair to exploit a child with press tours and openings?
• If a parent did coach a child, would that diminish the value of the child's product?
• Why is that father not on some sort of medication for what is obviously an advanced case of crazy?

I highly recommend both of these films, Bunny for entertainment value, and My Kid for thought-provocation.

Little pixies

I think I have found the project which will find its way to every baby I will ever have the pleasure of welcoming to our circle of family and friends. I first saw it on SouleMama's blog last week, and while I was not particularly impressed by her color choice, I did like the overall shape. When Sebastian was a newborn, we were sent a little french pixie hat which was just about the cutest thing ever. That is, until I made this one:
Modelled here by the doll my mother brought back from Mexico for me some 25 years ago, is the most perfect little red pixie hat, if you will allow me to gloat a little. (She's the closest thing I've got to a newborn sized head around here.) Both SouleMama and the pattern picture feature variegated yarns, one blue and brown and one minty greens, but if you ask me, a pixie should really have a red hat. Or maybe bright blue or green. But mostly, red seems best. And if I'm lucky, I can get 4 of these hats from one ball of yarn. Warm baby heads all around!

Bust a gut

Last night, I laughed so hard when I watched this that I think I may have literally busted my gut. Oh, tummy trouble!

How exciting is this?!

No, not the folded laundry. (Although, that's always a good thing.)
No, not the Dyson. (Super awesome, but not what I'm referring to.)
NO! Not the piles of crap everywhere!

The table! I'm talking about the table!

It's the one I scored on our trip up north last weekend. And I thought I was going to use it for the laptop, but then I needed to do some sewing so I jammed it in the space where the drying rack was, and moved the drying rack next to the dryer and moved the containers next to the dryer next to the washing machine and... well, it was (and still is) a mess, but here's the upshot:

I started the blanket on Wednesday and I didn't feel like finishing it that day, and so you know what? I didn't. But not finishing it didn't mean that I had to pack the sewing machine back in the box or that I would have to leave the machine on the kitchen table, forcing us to eat on the disgusting floor. No, sir, I just left it and the half-finished blanket on the table and returned to the project the next day when I felt like it. That's the way it should be.

Now if only the table were a little bigger...

Snuggly

A snuggly flannel blanket was finished today for someone who won't be finished himself until later this winter. I couldn't resist this monster fabric!

I need to get a grip

Lucky me, I've got 2 kids home in an ice storm! It's so not cool to not be able to toss them outside, but what are you gonna do?

Well, apparently what I am "gonna do" is get irrationally angry when I find out they are dipping into the Cheerios right before lunchtime without even asking. The horror! This is obviously an offense of epic proportions since those Cheerios are both healthy and free from effing WIC!

What my luck is like

When we bought the house, the inspector pointed out the way the wire bringing magical electricity and all its wonders into our house was totally frayed. Not the wire itself so much as the insulation that surrounds the wire, but it's still not really the way you want it to be.

I showed it to a certain handy husband of a friend of mine and he shrugged it off with an "I've seen worse. In fact, I have worse on our building downtown." This was sort of reassuring, but I was still not happy with it. Then I had this unemployed electrician recommended by Jeremy's coworker come over to look at the overall electrical picture and I told him about that exterior wire. When he went out to look at it, he said, "I've had people tell me things were frayed and they usually aren't so bad, but that really needs to be taken care of." Fine.

So I called an actual electrician (not one who failed the test "by only 2 questions") and he came out to look at it. After he had a minor freak out about how those pansies at the electric company were going to want to move the meter onto the front of the house because they are afraid of a little snow falling on their heads (or something to that effect) and how it was going to look terrible and I should give them a hard time blahblahblah, he said he needed to set up a schedule with them and get back to me. That took months. Over 2 months.

So they set up a time and he told me it would be a thousand dollars and would involve no power in the house for 6 hours. The original estimate he gave me was about $700. So I called him on it and he said, "Hold on, let me do the math, oh yeah, it'll probably be about $650. Where did I come up with $1000?" Man, I do not know the answer to that question.

Well, I get up early on the appointed day so that I can have a shower and do all those wonderful things that require electricity only to have him call and cancel because of the snow. I was a little annoyed. So, the work was rescheduled for tomorrow. Our forecast is calling for 2-4 inches of snow tonight plus sleet and freezing rain all day tomorrow. I called him today to find out if we should just go ahead and assume it isn't happening tomorrow. He says, "You were pretty annoyed last week, so I don't want to cancel if I don't have to. You're not having very good luck with this, are you?"

That's where he's wrong, because every week they have to delay it is another week that $650 stays in my hands, not theirs.

It's gettin' there

Last night, the last disc of Big Love season 2 got me through the left front of the baby jacket. It only took me most of 2 episodes and I also finished off the first sock of my pair.

I sort of surprised myself by watching the second season of Big Love since I felt so blah about the first one. But I really liked Margene's character and I love Chloe Sevigny because she's so awesome even if her character is so not. So, here's what happened both times. Both times I enjoyed the beginning of the season and then was less than impressed by the end. And I think the reason for that is that the family dynamic is what appeals to me most about the show and the Juniper Creek/business BS is what I like least. And I think the balance of those two shifts over the season and the end of the season is heavier on what I don't like as much.

That being said, since I am so ambivalent about it, it's perfect for knitting time. I don't really need to pay attention to the screen to know what is going on, but it is interesting enough to listen to while I work.

It's finally happened...

Sebastian lost his first tooth! It feels a little crazy. It's crazy that teeth fall out at all and it's crazy that I can remember those same teeth magically cutting through the gums in the not-so-distant past.

Speaking of which: The first 2 teeth Sebastian got were the two in the middle on the bottom. They both cut at the exact same time in July of 2003. One day he was toothless and the next he was still toothless but there were two tiny indentations in his bottom gum. Now, those same two teeth are the first ones to be loose.

Is that how this works? Or is it just coincidence? Does anyone remember what happened to their kids?

I'm so sleepy

Yesterday, Jeremy and I left on our first date of 2009. I have been promised one per month and I am going to demand fulfillment.

Good old Mimi agreed to watch the kids overnight while Jeremy and I went up to Quechee. We started our trip in Woodstock where we wandered around and had lunch. It was an extremely cold day, so as soon as we could (3pm), we checked in to the B&B to use the jacuzzi tub. One day I will have one in my house. If only a fence and painting and a new kitchen floor weren't so pressing...

I think this was for measuring your "output" but I was too shy to try. I mean, Jeremy told me not to.

We had dinner at the inn, and it was real grown up. Except for the french fries. But they were called frites so the french makes it more adult. Can you believe that we had a date that didn't involve a teen movie and Burger King?! Our date did, however, involve a relatively pointless drive over to Poop Hampshire and back looking for something to do. We didn't find anything. So we traded in my winning lottery ticket ($10!) and bought a tabloid, a Caramello and some Sour Patch Kids and went back to the inn. Nothing like reading a tabloid in a jacuzzi. Nothing.

Then we realized that the radiator in our room was cranking full blast for almost 2 hours and we thought we might die. I didn't realize how accustomed I had become to sleeping in a 50 degree room. Eighty degrees just about killed me. (I'm assuming it was 80 because I'm afraid to think it was more than that.) I think they used our entire room fee to pay for oil.

This morning we had the lovely breakfast and headed out to a 450 vendor antique mall. I got a table which is a little rickety but was a good deal nonetheless and then we went to see the famed Quechee Gorge. The woman at the info desk said we didn't need our snowshoes, so we started down the path in our boots. What was a well packed path suddenly devolved into a few footsteps through the snow. This seemed weird to me but Jeremy insisted on continuing. Finally I felt adamant that we turn around when we had been only following some deer tracks for some time and getting closer to nowhere. We headed back to discover that we had missed a switchback, then got back on the trail and saw the gorge. It's a big hole.

We finally got back to our car and I was exhausted. Somehow, Jeremy and I are completely incapable of taking a little hike without either getting lost or getting caught in a rainstorm. This, luckily, never happens when the kids are with us, but leave us to our own devices and we end up on the verge of requiring a search and rescue team.

After that little adventure, we headed back into town to check out a glassblowing/pottery studio called Simon Pearce. It's some kind of big deal. You can tell because everything is really expensive and most of the people who shop there wear ironed jeans and furry boots. They supposedly have a fantastic restaurant, but my exhaustion combined with old-rich-people overload necessitated a quick departure. But not before we enjoyed the waterfall.

We finished our trip with a visit to the Harpoon Brewery beer garden for lunch. Then I fell asleep in the car. And I'm still tired.

New Year, new sock

I just finished the first of my pair of socks, and I'm quite pleased. Because I have a hard enough time holding my hand still when taking pictures with no flash, and I would also have had to keep my foot still, I was forced to use the flash and therefore wash out the colors. (My old lady palsy is so sad. The extra "t" is for tremors.) Anyway, they are actually quite vibrant, the red and yellow and blues. Perhaps when I finish the pair I will take a nice natural light photo for you.

Obviously, this sock is not totally done since I don't think I could fit those 2 needles into any of my shoes, but the knitting is done and that is what counts today.

May your new year also be filled with warm toes. Yours or someone else's, I don't care which.