A Day in the Life

iss Boo and Brother have been "doing school" lately.  Miss Boo colors and learns letters, numbers, shapes, and concepts like "empty", and Brother tries to eat crayons.  It's great.  Our days, as a consequence of all the excitement, have been beginning early.

"Morning, Mom!"  (Actually he's calling me "Meh" these days, but I think it means "Mom".)

Well, Graps, not that we want to be offensive, but if this isn't the definiton of "beaner", I don't know what is...

Miss Boo demonstrates how you're *supposed* to eat refried beans.

Brother demonstrates *the fun way* to eat refried beans.

"That's beans and meat and corn and olives, Mama."

"Whaddya mean, I have beans in my hair?  I like 'em there!  Put down that washcloth, or I'll just have to grin at you until you drop it, laughing!"

Mama found this rocking horse--wooden--at the secondhand store for $15.  It's sturdy, the right size, and safe--but it has a horribly ugly face.  I'm going to paint it.  One of these days.

"No, Buddy, you can't ride the horse.  It's too big for you.  No, Buddy.  Don't grab me.  Don't grab my leg, Buddy, it's too big for you."

"Mama, take my picture.  Take my picture on the camera, Mama."

Cheers!

Breanna

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Don't you think the title says it all?

Cheers,

Breanna

I Know I Keep Telling You To Read Leila, but....

... you really need to.  Ergo:

I was cute and not oppressive to others, don't worry. But sometimes I was less showered than other times, in a way that made me just not feel...cheerful.


And I sort of had a vague 70s hippie idea that you shouldn't be vain -- that it was a bourgeois vanity to indulge in new towels, blow dryers, and sundry items necessary for efficient grooming.


You kind of had to be there.

 
It's just such a relief to know that it has happened to others before me, who did not die or sink into needing what Lisa Simpson in a nightmare called "Mama's pryin' board".  (I.e., "Hey, kids.  Be quiet.  Mama's watchin' her stories."  A moment goes by.  "Hey, chicken-pop.  Get Mama's pryin' board.  I'm gonna go to the liberry and rent us some movies.")
 
And Amen to the idea that new towels can be a useful investment in domestic happiness.
 
I should talk, right now; I'm recovering from a baaaad cold (I think it was actually an influenza) and a fever, and the house looks like a battalion of French soldiers has been bivoacking in the living room and kitchen, and my beds aren't even made, but still.  There is hope!
 
Cheers,
 
Breanna

The Right Way to Eat Applesauce

With a fork, you say?

With a spoon?

Piffle!

Why mess around with flatware when you can just stick your face (and hands, and elbows) straight in the bowl?

Miss Boo favors a "dip the spinach in the applesauce and then lick it off" approach to eating both applesauce and spinach.

"Eeek! A camera flash!"

Miss Boo really does eat spinach, despite her hesitation.

Yup, no spoons needed here.

"Mama, take my picture.  Take my picture too, Mama."

We had, between sore throats and dreams about spiders, a broken night last night.  For some reason this morning that inspires me to post this video, which, if you recite along with it, is a wonderful vent for the feelings:




And then, to be fair, I have to include this video, too, which is more serious (and the best scene in "On the Waterfront", which may possibly be the best American movie ever made):



Cheers!

Breanna

This is How I Clean

Another great post from Leila--if you clean anything more than once a year, you should read it.

The Husband is out of town being brilliant on an overnight business trip (note to any bad guys reading this: he is not the only one in the house who knows how to use the guns, so prey on some other blogger if you value your ankles) so we have been having a eat-up-leftovers, play-in-the-mud, take-three-hour-naps kind of a day

Miss Boo took the three hour nap, not me.

Though maybe I should have.  Instead, I read this book:

(half of it)

and found it very good and encouraging.  Of course, the author doesn't allow for concupiscience or sin nature (translation: oneryness) that we know is bound up in the hearts of children, but she also doesn't assume that if you are simply "well attached" to your children that they will always mind.  She gives umpteen strategies to pick from to get a toddler/preschooler/elementary kid to mind.

This book has helped me re-rework my schedule, emphasizing meals and naps.  Amazing how those can get caddywumpus if you're not looking.

(Why am I talking like a grizzled 1860s prospecter all of a sudden?)

And if all else fails, well, we already know how to spank if we need to.

Cheers,

Breanna

Two Lovely Posts From Leila

First, this one to kick your butt in gear, and then this one to move you forward.

I don't know about you, but I'm off to wash diapers and figure out ny supper side dishes.

Avaunt!

Breanna

Update

So I had this thing happen last week...

(No, not THIS thing.  This is Brother, saying "You look silly, Mama!")

I've had this thing for almost a month, actually; a random sick, achy feeling between 10:30 and 11:30 in the morning.  It got bad enough on Friday last week that the Husband was called home to take me to urgent care, where I met a physician's assistant from Poland--or possibly Russia--or maybe Slovakia.  At any rate, she talked like Natasha from Rocky & Bullwinkle.

(We've discovered one of the best toys in the world is a plate of dried beans.  You can make shapes in it, and count them, and they rattle when you drop them.  And the dog eats the ones you drop.)

So the Polish/Slovakian/Russian gal checked me over from teeth to toenails, took several tests, felt all over my stomach, said some things I didn't understand that must have been jokes (she laughed), and concluded:

We don't know what was wrong with me, but amoxicillin should fix it.

("No!  We don't eat our counting beans!  They taste yucky because they're not cooked!  And if we eat them we can't count them anymore!  Let's just leave them on the plate!")

I had elevated white blood cells, though not really elevated enough to be terribly important or indicative.  So I accepted the prescripiton for amoxicillin and have been taking it like a good girl.

So far, it seems to be working; I haven't had any more "attacks".

(And no.  I'm not pregnant.  We checked that, too.)

("I'm dust... I'm dust making beans, Mama.  I'm dust making little beans, Mama.")

(Do you think these count as organic since I grew them from non-organic lentils to begin with?  But I didn't spray them with any pesticides or fertilizers.  Hm.)

So I'm  better now, but the Husband is still insisting I see our regular doc next week.  So.  I will keep everyone posted.  I tend to think that whatever it was is gone now, but hey, that's just me.  And really, I would be insisting if it was him, so I have to take my medicine like a gallant lady and take my own advice, as well.

Stay warm!

Cheers,

Breanna