Friends in High Places

We have yet to figure out why, but my little office somehow made it onto the Obama Christmas card mailing list.  We gloat about it to the other Department employees, who are not cool enough to correspond with the White House.

Siri: my surprisingly aloof new friend

I got a completely unexpected early holiday present today; an iphone 5 was waiting for me at work.   I was caught unprepared.  Since I had no reason to believe such a luxury item would be part of my future, I didn't pay close attention to the commercials and I keep asking Siri to do things she doesn't do.  I don't think she likes me very much.  I can tell she is rolling her eyes at me when she politely but firmly informs me that whatever I am asking her for is out of the question, but she did deign to write some emails I dictated to her. Hopefully, I will learn more about her real functions later.  Unfortunately, a USB cable was not waiting with the new phone, so Siri will be resting over Thanksgiving weekend.

Why you should finish diapering before filming

Moments in Parenting

Pre-Haircut Photo

I made my first attempt ever at cutting my boys' hair at home. Results were mixed.  On the bright side,  I didn't think either of them came out looking too bad and my toddler, especially, seemed to enjoy the experience.  Unfortunately, he had so much fun that about a week later, he decided to try it again, this time cutting his own hair all by himself.  And so I cut it again, even shorter, in an attempt to blend in his handiwork.  If we continue this cycle, by a week or two from now, he could be bald.

My four-year-old is going through a bit of a phase.  Well, two phases.  He has become obsessed with all things electronic and he has suddenly become unruly at preschool.  I have attempted to nip both problems in the bud by blocking all electronic devices with passwords.  Now, he has to earn screentime as a reward for good behavior at preschool.  His teachers report a miraculous improvement in his behavior.  Yesterday, he said to me as he unsuccessfully lobbied for extra, unearned screentime, "Mommy, you are the stupidest mommy I have ever had."  (To his credit, he felt guilty for saying such a horrible thing.)

Some sort of record-keeping blunder at my seven-year-old daughter's school resulted in her being placed at "H" reading level, when she actually tested at "L." I had wondered how they expected her to do 20 minutes of nightly reading in texts that she always completed within a few minutes, but it never occurred to me to question it.  We are supposed to spend some of the time discussing the book, but both of us were bored of that after a couple minutes, so I just had her spend the other 10 minutes or so reading from her own books or library books.  Her teacher sent a letter home last week with her apologies and an actual full-length book: Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.  My daughter is thrilled with the new material and we no longer have to supplement to fill her allotted reading time.  I have been reading some books lately for research purposes and marking passages with post-its.  I was surprised to see that my daughter had noticed my reading patterns: she has cluttered the Silverstein book with post-its.

Summer Photos the Sequel

After posting my random summer photos, I realized that I missed some.  Here they are:

State fair

Hayride at Thanksgiving Point

My toddler doesn't realize that he isn't actually playing the demo at the arcade.  Makes for cheap entertainment.

My sis, baby, niece and daughter at Trafalga.

Reminiscing about Pregnancy

The first time I was pregnant, I felt pretty adorable. 

And why shouldn't I?  Everywhere I went, people complimented me and fussed over me and sometimes even threw parties in my honor.

During my second pregnancy, I portrayed a pregnant character in a local community theater musical.  My dancing abilities fluctuate somewhere between adequate and sub-par, so I am not accustomed to a lot of praise for that aspect of my performance.  But whenever I pulled off a solidly adequate feat of dance in this particular production, the directors would gush and even encourage other cast members to emulate me:  "Look at April!  She's doing the knee spin and she's pregnant!"

By the third time around, I was older and so was my maternity wardrobe, but I still felt reasonably classy in my motherly state:

In fact, I got kind of sentimental about the whole thing, thinking this might be my last time around, and the idea of a body cast finally appealed to me, even though I had shunned the idea as weird during my first two pregnancies.  (It helped that I found a kit that made a cast that looked like a drape over a pregnant body, instead of a naked pregnant body.)

During my most recent pregnancy,  I was feeling my age. I would look in the mirror and see this:

That was on a good day.  On a bad day, my reflection looked more like this to me:

While I was much less fond of pregnancy this time around, I loved the hospital as much as ever.  Many women do not share my enthusiasm for the hospital.  They prefer to avoid that sterile environment and have their babies in the comfort of home.   While I respect their right to do so, I would never (and didn't ever) consider having a baby anywhere but at the hospital.  When it comes to giving birth, I like sterility and I can't imagine that my home would be comfortable--after all, I am the one who would have to clean it after all that childbirth happened.  Plus, my other kids live at my home.  I would have my baby in a hospital even if they didn't conveniently happen to offer medical care there.  There are so many reasons I love the hospital:

• They have cleaning crews.
• They have room service (and it is yummy!  People probably just think that hospital food is bad because they happen to be sick whenever they eat it.)
• Friends and family stop by to visit, sometimes bearing gifts, and no one cares that I am entertaining them in my pajamas.
• I get to stay in a room (almost) all by myself and relax and read or watch a movie.
• The only other person staying in my room is a darling new baby and if I do need some personal time to nap or shower, all I have to do is press my call button and someone arrives to babysit him.
• This last time, the hospital added the charming perk of a celebration dinner for two--it was like a date.

It makes me kind of sad to think that for the rest of my life, I will only get a chance to stay in the hospital if I get sick or injured.  I think that would make the experience much less pleasant.

He's smiling now!

Here is the first photo where we succeeded at capturing the baby's smile.  He is a happy little guy, and smiles often now.