It's Getting More Difficult...

...not lying to Tai.

I've been trying to maintain this whole Not Lying to my Children Policy (the whole Santa thing excluded). It's usually pretty easy to maintain, as long as I am willing to simplify the truth or exaggerate time lines -- "yes, I am going to bed after I put you to bed" (just not immediately after I put you to bed).

But it's getting trickier these days, especially because Tai's new habit is coming out of his room after we put him to bed. Several times a night. It's like he has suddenly figured out that the world doesn't stop once he's in bed. We theorize that he lays in there for 5-10 minutes thinking up the next line to feed us. Usually, we get these:

I'm not tired.
I want to play.
I'm hungry.
I need ice in my water cup.
Where is Quynh?
I need something else to sleep with.
I'm all alone in my room - I need you to snuggle me.
I want Mama and Daddy to go to bed.
What are you eating?
I thought you said you were going to bed, Mama.

I've been evading some of the more direct questions about what we do after he goes to bed. I tell him we have some grown-up things to do (like washing dishes and packing lunches) and then we get in our PJs and go to bed. This is all true-ish, but not as truthful as saying, "Look, kid. After you're out of our hair we drink wine, eat chocolate, watch R-rated movies and soak in the hot tub."

Technical Difficulties Resolved

We now return to your Regularly Scheduled Font.

Not So Bright

Last night we headed out on what promised to be a productive, delicious, and magical family outing. First, Costco for some essentials and dinner at the food court. Then, on to Bright Nights in Springfield's Forest Park. Both kids had napped well at school, Quynh had just nursed, the dog had been out to pee, our shopping list was in order, and we even remembered the Bright Nights $3 off coupon. It was going to be perfect.

While zipping down 91 South toward Costco we realized neither of us had much cash and both the Costco food court and Bright Nights seem like the type of places that wouldn't take credit cards. Hmmmm...what to do? No Problem! I pulled out my handy-dandy new iphone and asked it to show me all the nearest ATMs, which it gladly did (and then even gave me turn-by-turn directions from my current location.) Awesome. No little bump in the road like a lack of cash was going to ruin our evening.

Tai, meanwhile, was all questions about this whole Bright Nights thing. "It's a park?" "Do we get out of the car?" "Can we play there?" "Will Santa be there?" "Can we go see him?" "Where is Springfield?"

Costco shopping? Check.

Dinner of hot dogs, chicken bakes, and an apple? Check.

Small talk with the folks eating at the table next to us? Check. (Woman: "You have beautiful children." Tai: "I'm cute!")

Time to head on to the Main Event.

A mere 10 minutes later and we pulled up to the main gate of Forest Park, only to see the giant unlit Bright Nights signs on the closed gate at the entrance to the completely dark park.* I sat there with my mouth hanging open for a second, wondering what was going on and (more importantly) how to break it to Tai. Then I fumbled in my wallet for the coupon and read the Open Hours again. Here is (verbatim) what it says:

OPEN: Wed-Sun: Nov 25, 2009 - Dec 6, 2009

Nightly, Dec 9, 2009 - Jan 2, 2010.

Last week, when we planned this outing, I read this statement up through the word "nightly." Why would I need to read on? Wed-Sun until Dec 6th and then nightly after that, right? No such luck. What they really mean is Wed-Sun through Dec 8th!! Argh! So there we were, on Dec 8th, with no lights to look at. We told Tai and he immediately started asking "why?" in a high pitched, quivery voice that indicated tears might be imminent.

Luckily, our friends live right around the corner from Forest Park so we called and were granted permission to pop in. Tears averted. Friends visited. Leggos played. Baby nursed. All was well, and Tai learned a valuable lesson somewhere along the way. (The lesson being "read the fine print, because your mother doesn't.") Now we just have to find a time to go back down to Springfield now that Bright Nights is actually open nightly.

*Perhaps the saddest part was the bus from a retirement home that pulled up to the dark, locked gate of Forest Park right before we did. I wonder if they had a Plan B to implement so that all the retirees would not burst into tears?

One Stop Shopping

This weekend I took Tai to the local hardware store to buy batteries and an extension cord, for some Christmas decorations. While walking through the store he repeatedly asked me, "do they have presents here?"

He's eager to learn the Ways of Christmas, but doesn't quite understand it all -- I'm pretty sure he thought that Christmas gifts were purchased already wrapped,with bows on top. I tried to explain to him that anything in the store had the potential to be a Christmas present. Then he caught on and started scanning the aisles saying "Mama, we have to buy presents for our friends!"

Then we found a display of personalized ball point pens. They came in pink, red, blue, yellow, and green, with the usual array of names. As a "Kathy" I've always loved finding this type of display and have indeed owned personalized key chains, pens, stickers, etc. But I had to break it to my son that he would absolutely not find his name there in between and Stephen and Taylor. But we did manage to find the name of Tai's good friend, Natasha. I suggested we buy her a pen for Christmas and asked if he wanted to get her the green one or the yellow one.

T: "pink!"

K: "they don't have 'Natasha' in pink. green or yellow?"

T: "but Natasha's favorite color is pink!"

K: "I know that, but they just don't have it in pink."

T: (holding up a pink pen) "what's this one say?"

K: "Erica. But we don't know any Ericas."

T: (holding up another pink pen) "what's this one say?"

K: "Rebecca."

T: "I don't know any Rebeccas."

The poor kid really wanted to get his friend a pink pen and I thought it would be weird to give her a "Rebecca" pen so I looked for her mom's name. It was there, but not in pink. I looked for her dad's name. Not there. I looked for her middle name. Not there. I then got so wrapped up in my son's quest for a pink pen to give to Natasha that I started looking at the very end, where they have the pens that say things like "soccer rules" and "I love baseball." The only pink one in that section said WWJD. Seriously. I could not make this up if I tried. Luckily, not long after that, Tai declared, "These pens are for grown-ups, let's keep looking for something else."

Right up by the registers, where hardware stores tend to keep all the little useless trinkets (folding magnifying glass, anyone?) we found the perfect gift. And it came in an array of colors, including pink. Tai selected pink for Natasha, pink for S, blue for J, and purple for S. These just happen to be the 4 friends who will attend his birthday party in a couple weeks, so he can given them out then. I can't write specifically what the gift is because I don't want to ruin the surprise and you never know who reads this blog (I caught Tai handing out the URL on the playground the other day).

He carried the four items to the register, carefully placed them one-by-one on the counter and then had the nerve to tell me he had no money with which to purchase them. So, being the generous mother that I am, I fronted him the cash and promised not to charge any interest when I take it out of the allowance he'll likely start to receive in a year or two.

Saturday Haiku

snow falling. tree lit.
toddler sleeping. baby smiles.
happy saturday.

Reason # 27 to Have Children....

....Christmas.

As a child, Christmas was a magical time for me and I looked forward to it beginning in early November. In anticipation of the holiday, my mom and I would sing Christmas carols, make paper snowflakes, and even paint the corners of the windowpanes with white shoe polish. And we often had our shopping done by Thanksgiving.

Over the years, however, that feeling faded and Christmas had started to become just a big hassle that snuck up on me when I wasn't paying attention, resulting in a frantic scramble to find gifts for a huge list of folks, spending too much money, packing the car, hiring a cat sitter, and driving east to spend a whirlwind 48 hours with family when I'd much rather just stay home and hibernate (my apologies to those who read this to whom I am related by either blood or marriage). I had become jaded.

But now Tai is nearly 3 years old and perfectly ripe for the magic of Santa Claus, reindeer, and stockings. And I am nearly bursting with excitement over the chance to spin this tale that most of us tell our children (even though we teach them not to lie). Tai is already aware that Santa will bring him gifts and fill his stocking. And I'm looking forward to coaching him to put milk and cookies out for Santa on Christmas Eve (but mostly just so I can eat them after he goes to bed).

And, this year, for the first time ever, we have a Christmas tree. It's fake. (Or, as Tai says, "It's just a pretend conifer.") I was raised in a home that believed in real Christmas trees the way some people believe in God. And now I am a heretic. But, despite my upbringing, it doesn't bother me to have a fake tree and offers some distinct advantages:

(1) no pine needles on the floor

(2) no need to go buy one and strap it to the roof of the car to get it home

(3) no need to dispose of it in January -- I can never figure out which *one* week you are allowed to put tree out for the garbage truck. (And neither can some of our neighbors -- I've seen trees put out a week too late that sit on the curb for months.)

(4) we can enjoy it for an entire month without worrying about it drying out. in fact, it's already up.

Yesterday we were all home sick from work and school so we decided to put on some Christmas tunes and put up the tree. Tai was unbelievably excited and spent the entire 45 minutes that it took us to set it up asking, "Is it time for the ornaments yet?" Of course, after he hung about 10 ornaments all on one branch he lost interest.

While we were setting it up, he looked at the box it had just come out of, which showed a gorgeous lit, decorated, tree with presents underneath. He peered into the empty box and asked, "But where are the presents?" Apparently he didn't understand that the photo was just a Serving Suggestion and that we need to supply our own gifts.

And speaking of presents...this year I've set an unrealistic goal of minimizing the number of Christmas and birthday celebrations. With his birthday on 12.27, it's going to be difficult (impossible?). I know everyone wants to give him gifts and I don't mind that, but I just don't want him thinking he gets gifts every day for a week. Last year, between birthday and Christmas celebrations, and gifts arriving in the mail, he ended up opening gifts six days in a row. Just a couple more and he would have thought we were Jewish.

So here I sit, un-jaded and downright excited for this holiday season. Let the festivities begin.

Raising Paulie Bleeker

By doing whatever it takes to get Tai to use the potty, we might just be (inadvertently) raising the next Paulie Bleeker.

The current Potty Incentive Program includes getting to eat a small piece of candy after each use of the potty. This, in case anyone who has been by recently was wondering, is why we have a package of orange tic tacs on the sink in the bathroom.

And it might just be working.

Tai loves those orange tic tacs so much that when he's goofing around, not wanting to use the bathroom, we just have to remind him that he gets an "orange candy" afterward and he shapes up and does his business. Just the sight of the tic tac box makes him urinate--it's almost Pavlovian. We're nearing the point where we can walk into the bathroom and shake the tic tac container (much like shaking a can of Pounce for a cat) and he'll come running.

(Yes, I just managed to compare my son to a dog and a cat in the same paragraph.)

A Child After my Own Heart

I would prefer, hands down, a shot in the arm to having something sprayed up my nose. Tai agrees.

After receiving some (mis)information while getting my h1n1 vaccine, I told Tai that he was going to get a flu shot in his arm the next day. He became instantly excited at this idea. Seriously. He kept talking about how brave he was going to be and that he was going to get a band-aid afterward. He even told his teachers at school, proudly, "I'm going to get a flu shot today!" And when we left school yesterday to head over to the doctor's office he said to me, "I hope there will be a little bit of blood."

Feeling like I had the bravest toddler in the world, we headed to the pediatrician. Although he enjoyed playing in the waiting room, Tai actually got a little impatient and asked a couple times when it would be his turn.

Once inside the exam room, it occurred to me to confirm that he was indeed getting the shot, not the nasal spray. I was wrong. They disputed what I had previously been told and explained that they would only give the shot to kids with an asthma diagnosis. Paying close attention to this adult conversation happening in front of him, Tai piped in, "but I want the poke in the arm!"

Sadly, his preference was not taken into consideration. I delivered the news and soon my brave boy's lip was quivering and tears were silently dripping off his cheek and onto his pants. We were left alone in the room together and he started pleading with me to get him the shot, or take him home. Heart-breaking. When the nurse came in with the flu mist, he burst into a full out cry. I found myself both feeling bad for him but also somewhat embarrassed that he had lost his cool and this nurse must think he's like all the other toddlers -- afraid of shots. I feebly tried to explain that he just doesn't want anything up his nose. And he made his wishes known, screaming, "I want the shot! In my arm!"

In the end, I had to restrain him so she could squirt that stuff up his nose, poor thing. He took a few minutes to recover, but by the time we got home he was actually pleased to be able to explain to Minh that it wasn't a shot: "It was a Flu Squeeze! And I was brave!"

Conference 2

Today we had our conference with Quynh's teacher and got to see another slide show of our kid having fun at school. Set to You Belong to Me, it went something like this:

Quynh laying on her back, smiling

Quynh on her tummy, smiling

Quynh smiling while being kissed by an older baby

Quynh smiling while being dressed by an older baby (and a work-study student)

Quynh beaming while sitting up on her own

The good news is she's not failing any of her courses and probably will not be held back. Whew!

Conference 1

We had our fall semester conference with Tai's teacher this morning. Ahhhhh, there's nothing like watching a slide show of your kid playing at school and talking about how wonderful he is. Here's the summary:

• Tai plays with everyone in the classroom, but has a special sibling-esque relationship with Natasha.
• Tai enjoys making the other kids laugh and can get too silly at times.
• Tai talks alot and feels the need to fill awkward silences.
• Tai likes to teach the new, younger, kids the circle time songs and signs.
• Tai is not a big fan of using the potty when he has better things to do.
• Tai is able to, but prefers not to, dress and undress himself.

All of this is, of course, Earth-shattering news to us. We had no idea :)

Aliens Digging for Fossils

The other day I read Tai the book Aliens Love Underpants, which features brightly colored illustrations of aliens of all shapes and sizes. After we read it through it occurred to me that he might not even know what an alien is. So I asked and the conversation went like this:

K: Do you know what an alien is?

T: yes.

K: OK, what is it?

T: alien-tologist!

So now I'm worried that he thinks that paleontologists are green or purple or blue and have antennae and anywhere between 1 and 4 eyes. Next he'll be telling people he wants to be a paleontologist so he can fly a space ship.

That Poor Gorilla

I'm not sure how many of you folks know this, but Nibbles (the cat with no genitalia) is the friskiest animal in our house. And by frisky I mean, um, "frisky". About 8 years ago (back when he had a penis) he adopted a stuffed black cat of mine as his own. "Why does a cat need a stuffed companion?" you might ask. For sex, of course.

Nibbles and Sex Kitten (as we call it) were inseparable for years. Late at night, we'd find him biting it on the back of the neck and...um...you know. Sex Kitten is the size of an actual, small, cat. Just big enough to be realistic, and just small enough for Nibbles to be able to pick it up and move it from one room to another. We never knew where we'd find that thing each morning -- tossed in a corner of the living room, curled up under the kitchen table, or spread eagle at the bottom of the stairs.

Over the years, Sex Kitten got *much* use. This poor thing is now so tattered and threadbare

that it's embarrassing when people come over and see it, thinking it's one of Tai's toys--almost as embarrassing as having to tell people to keep their young children from touching it, but not wanting to explain why in front of tender young ears.

That is all just background for the news that there appears to be a new game in town. Not long ago, my parents gifted Tai a stuffed gorilla that happens to be black and roughly the same size as Sex Kitten. The gorilla went pretty much unnoticed and unused by anyone, including Tai, until last week. That's when we saw Nibbles saunter into the living room, carrying the gorilla in his mouth, settle down in the corner by the door and assume "the posture".

We rescued the gorilla right away, ushering him to safety up on a table, and gave Nibbles back Sex Kitten, who had been vacationing under our bed. But the next morning I found that poor primate at the bottom of the playroom stairs, looking rather ashamed of himself. Now, each evening we make sure the gorilla is up somewhere that we think is out-of-sight and out-of-mind, if not out of reach, but each morning he's laying on the floor somewhere looking dejected. Most recently, we discovered him halfway down the playroom stairs, and Sex Kitten at the bottom. So now we're not sure if Nibbles is upgrading his partner or trying to get a three-way started.

At this point I'm not sure whether to save the gorilla by hiding him away in Tai's room, or just let Nibbles go for it.

Selected Scenes from a Weekend in Vermont

Scene 1: The Trek North

1 hour into the 2.5 hour drive: (smiling) "Mama, I just got a big huge boogie out of my nose....and ate it."
1.5 hours into the 2.5 hour drive: (upset, almost frantic) "I can't see The Vermont!" My reply? "Look out the window, it's all around you." (He didn't get it.)
2 hrs into the 2.5 hrs drive: (all patience lost) "I don't want to go to The Vermont. I want to go home RIGHT NOW."

Scene 2: Who Knew a King-Sized Bed Could Feel Cramped?

I enjoy sharing my bed with Quynh, and I enjoy snuggling with Tai. But not at the same time. Never again.

Friday night-- after placing an almost-asleep Quynh in the center of a king-sized bed and tucking Tai into his sleeping bag on the floor, I foolishly attempted to go into the other room and have a glass of wine. Quynh wouldn't settle. My attempts at settling her just kept Tai awake. Tai wanted to know when I was coming to bed, and if he could get in the bed with me and Quynh. We called Daddy at 8:30pm and Tai announced, "I'm having trouble falling asleep." I then gave in and said all three of us could surely sleep comfortably in a king sized bed. After much flopping, flailing, talking, and whispered reprimands ("Don't lay on your sister!") somehow, by about 10pm, we all fell asleep.

At 3am when Quynh woke to nurse, Tai also woke. And became jealous (or something). He started pawing at Quynh, and at my breast, and then sat on my head. Yes, sat on my head. When he did not remove himself by the count of 3 he got an un-precedented 3:30am time-out. Tears ensued.

Saturday night was better, though it also started with an "I'm having trouble falling asleep" call to Daddy. I abandoned all pretense of staying up later than my kids and we all climbed into bed at 8pm. By the time I nursed Quynh to sleep and rolled over to snuggle Tai. he was still pretty wired. I had to tell him a lengthy story of the life, and death, of our long-dead cat Marmalade to get him to settle down (why he finds that particular tale calming is beyond me). Somehow we got through the second night with no one sitting on me and only 15 minutes of wailing at 3 am. "Is it wake up time yet? It's taking a looooong time!"

Scene 3: The Water Boy

Even though there is not much to actually do in Killington, VT if you are a non-skiing toddler, Tai only needed water to have a good time. It seemed like I couldn't keep him dry for more than a few hours at a time. Jacuzzi bathtub, shower, outdoor (heated) pool, back into the bathtub, etc. (Perhaps we should have just stayed home and soaked in the hot tub all weekend?)

Scene 4: Life and Death

At lunch on Sunday Tai claimed to be afraid to walk under the giant stuffed moose head on the wall. I explained that the moose used to be alive, but was now dead and stuffed (ugh). Though he still would not walk under it, he became instantly interested in learning which things in the restaurant used to be alive.

Pointing to a canoe hanging from the ceiling: "Mama, was that boat alive and it died?" And then, "Did that (wooden) duck used to be alive?" And on our way out the door after lunch, "Mama -- what about that man? (sitting and eating his lunch) Did he die?" Luckily, the man was good-natured about it and almost seemed entertained by Tai's curiosity. Whew.

Scene 5: Home Sweet Home

The ride home (at naptime on Sunday) was blissfully quiet and we returned to trimmed hedges and gardens, a mown lawn, a re-organized laundry room, and even a clean bathroom floor. But we also returned to an exhausted Daddy with a killer headache from lack of caffeine. (Apparently washing the coffee pot seemed like more trouble than it was worth to him).

While we were away Minh even found time to test the Halloween candy, just to make sure it isn't poison and will be safe to give out to the neighborhood kids. What a thoughtful guy.

My Big Boy

Tai is almost 3. How and when that happened, I'm not sure. Lately I've been marvelling at how grown-up he is. Some examples:


He orders his own food in restaurants. Granted, it's always the same order. "Do you have chocolate milk? And do you have mac n cheese?" And when the server comes by half-way through the meal to check on us he says "I'm all set" before they can even ask if we need anything else. (Perhaps we eat out too much?)

He can walk all the way around the block on his own feet, without begging to be carried just after the half-way point. Buttons is not a big fan of Tai's stop-and-smell-the-roses pace, but it's fun to do once in a while.


He's *nearly* potty trained and is quite good about using public restrooms. He recently delighted in selecting which port-o-potty to use from a row of about 8. Once inside he became fascinated with the urinal and (after I insisted he stop *touching* it) he requested to stand up and pee into that instead of sitting on the toilet. Afterward, he bragged to Minh about it.



No one has ever taken so much pleasure from doing laundry as my boy Tai. If he sees us with a load of laundry he insists that he be allowed to help with it. He sits up on the dryer and pours the detergent into the washer. He is also in charge of putting the Bounce in the dryer. Surely this obsession will last through his teen years and I'll never had to do another load myself, right?



He feeds the dog. By himself. For the past several months he's been helping me feed the dog and cats each morning. But the other day I was in Quynh's room changing her diaper when I heard it happen. "Buttons, down!" And then the sound of dog food being scooped into her bowl. And then. "OK, good girl!"



He selects his outfit each morning. Actually, we've started having him select it at night before bed, for the next day. This is an attempt to get us out of the house earlier on weekday mornings, but it has proven only moderately successful thus far. It's not so much that he cares what he wears, but he likes having a say in the process, I think. He's beginning to understand that the season have just changed and short sleeved t-shirts are no longer an appropriate choice. Except for that one favorite shirt I can't seem to get him to forget about. Now if he could just learn to dress himself, we'd be all set.

I always find something to worry about

I woke at 5:30am this morning to Tai standing beside my bed -- his face mere inches from mine. After the initial shock of that rude awakening, I explained that it was still "the middle of the night" and tucked him back in. But while I was tending to him I was thinking, "where the hell is Quynh?" I had put her to bed at 8pm the night before and had not seen her since. "Surely, she is dead," I thought (while simultaneously knowing that was ridiculous and she was perfectly fine.)

After settling Tai back in I climbed back into my bed and tried to enjoy the fact that Quynh was sleeping so long. But that only lasted 2 minutes. I peeked at her using the video monitor, but that does not allow me to see whether she is breathing. Knowing I would not sleep until I knew she was OK, I went in. I lingered just long enough to see her move her arm and then me and my aching engorged breasts went back to bed.

She woke at 7:15am and I ran to her at the first peep. I brought her into bed with me and she nursed long and hard. Let's hope she sleeps as well tonight.

My New Philosophy

I have this new method of keeping sane that I'd like to share.

Instead of walking by the giant tumbleweeds of dog and cat fur that gather up against the baseboard and thinking, "oh, this place is getting dirty" and "we really need to clean this weekend" I now stop, bend over, pick them up, and put them in the trash can. The most important part of this new method is that I don't seek the tumbleweeds out. This is not Active Cleaning. But if I happen to see one in my travels, I grab it.

Brilliant, right?

Who would have thought that I could have come up with this groundbreaking solution? It takes about 4 extra seconds and I only pick up one or two a day, but it keeps me from slowly growing more and more disgusted with the general state of the house and constantly thinking about about how much house-cleaning is on the horizon. It also has the added bonus of making the house look slightly more presentable in the event of a Neighbor Pop In.

Now if I could just bring myself (or my son) to do the same thing with the toys that are strewn all over the place I could stop grumbling about the state of the house entirely.

Lessons Learned (Maybe?)

This morning, while he was supposed to be getting dressed for school, Tai attempted to retrieve Emmit from the top of his bureau by standing on an ottoman, on tiptoes, reaching across an 18" span and fumbling around above his head.

He fell.

Naked.

Onto a wooden train.

I was nursing Quynh at the time, listening through the wall as a crying Tai told Minh what had happened. After some wailing and some exclaiming of "my penis!" when Minh asked where Tai had hurt himself, I found the two of them snuggled in Tai's bed, wrapped in a blanket. Man Time.

The lessons to be learned are many. (1) Don't reach for things on top of the bureau, (2) Don't stand on furniture, (3) Don't leave toys laying around on the floor, and (4) we need a better place to keep Emmit when he's off limits.

Love / Hate

Lately, I seem to have a Love/Hate relationship with many aspects of life, especially those related to motherhood. Here are some examples:

Coffee:

Each day I drink more coffee than I think a nursing mother really should and then feel guilty about it and start swallowing gallons of water in an attempt to somehow dilute the caffeine in my breast milk. Then I do the very same thing the next day.

Nuks:

I love that Quynh has recently started taking a pacifier. I love that it helps her sleep longer at night. I love that she'll suck on a nuk all night long, instead of my poor nipples. I hate that Tai is nearly 3 years old and still uses a nuk. I hate the thought that Quynh might also use hers well into toddlerhood and we'll be "the family whose kids still use pacifiers". Yet, I hate the thought of breaking Tai of this habit, possibly even more than I hate the thought of not breaking Tai of this habit. Perhaps I'll be packing his nuk when he goes off to college?

Pumping:

I really hate pumping. Yes, it's wonderful to be providing Quynh with breast milk each day, but there's nothing pleasant about the process of extracting that milk. The only bright side to it is that I get to go sit in a quiet room and read a book for 10 minutes, three times a day. It is a nice break from work. I'm thinking about switching Quynh to formula, but not telling my boss. Then I'll continue to take my three breaks each day, but use the time to read and drink copious amounts of coffee.

Working:

Speaking of work...I could absolutely not be a stay-at-home mom. Caring for two kids all day every day would exhaust/bore me more than I can imagine. I adore my children and love spending time with each of them. Just not 24-7. Work provides a nice "break" from the little ones and the chance to talk to other adults. Oh, and it provides money. Can't forget about that little detail. On the other hand, it is Work. 'Nuf said. I think what I need is to be independently wealthy so I can stay at home, but still send my kids to daycare.

West Virginia, Part II

Quynh's thoughts on travelling:

Milk tastes good, whether having it:

in Logan Airport,
on a plane,
in a hotel lobby,
in a restaurant,
in a hotel room,
or in the reptile house at the National Zoo.

Napping is delightful, whether doing it:

in the ergo,
on a plane,
in a rental car,
in mama's arms,
on daddy's lap,
in the wrap,
or in a hotel bed--on crisp white sheets, under a fluffy down comforter.


No matter where I am, things that make me happy include:

sitting on daddy's lap,
riding around in the ergo,
getting complete strangers to make silly faces at me,
and watching my brother act a fool.

West Virginia, Part I

Our Trip, as seen through Tai's eyes:

Major excitement at the presence of tunnels and overpasses in Boston. We just don't have those things out here in cow-country. "Mama! Another tunnel!"

Upon arrival at the Logan Economy Parking Lot: "I can't see West Virginia! Where is it?"

Hanging out at Logan: pizza, smoothies, rides on the escalator, chocolate from grampy, and watching plane after plane take off. Sitting on the tarmac: "Are we taking off yet?"

In flight (at naptime): shoes off, headphones on, channel surfing on his own private TV. Snacking on water and Jet Blue cookies. Tired, but too excited to sleep.

Rides in the hotel elevator, "Which number you want? Up or down?"

A bowl full of hard candy in the hotel lobby......so many flavors, so little time.

Swimming in the (outdoor) hotel pool until his lips turned blue.

At the wedding: (loudly, during the ceremony) "Are they married yet? Why are they getting married? Why are they doing rings? Where's the dancing part?"

At the National Zoo, "Daddy, look! Pigeons! This is a special treat to see all these birds."

Tuesday morning. K to T: "Today we're going to the airport to get on a plane and fly home. A Jet Blue plane." T to K: "Oh!! I LOVE Jet Blue planes!"

Sitting on the tarmac in DC for way too long: "Are we taking off yet? Will there be a snack this time? Where's the snack? I see the engine!"

Five minutes into the drive from Logan to South Hadley: sound asleep in his car seat.