For the love of books

Writing a post Thanksgiving about books seems a bit off even to me.  Surely I could fill up a post about traveling with two girls under the age of 4.5, being thrown up on (literally by both kids just days apart), Isabel and her love affair with Duke the boxer, the problem with pancakes, or managing to have a lovely time visiting with family- which we did.  But no, I want to write about the lovely time I had on my holiday surrounded by books not people.  (How social of me!)

I've always been a reader, from the time of the story hours at the Wayne Public Library and accidentally losing "Fraidy Cat" in my mailbox-shaped toy box and almost having my first library card ever taken away.  But it's honestly been a long time since I sat down with a book and remained immobile for hours on end.  (Harry Potter excluded, although, at this point, I don't think HP counts since I am sure there was something subliminally added to those books to keep readers rooted to their seats.)  Some of this has to do with having kids but some of it also has to do apparently with my more recent selection of books.  Try as I may, Zadie Smith just hasn't moved me.  But on the recommendation of "Bit o' Lit" I picked up "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" in the airport on the way out of town.  And I have to say I was just delighted.  I spent more of my evenings curled up in a chair in my host's house than I did elsewhere and I don't feel a bit guilty about it.  My "booky" holiday was capped off by a visit to The Reading Reptile, perhaps the coolest independent bookstore I have ever been to.  (In fact, it is so freakin' cool, I've added it to my links of recommended sites to check out.)  I should caveat here by saying that it's my mother-in-law who deserves all the credit in the world for discovering the Reading Reptile in Brookside, Kansas City.  We made our first trip there last May when we were out West but I swear it's almost at pilgrimage status for me now.  This past visit, a bunch of kids were happily ensconced in the back shredding endless amounts of paper to no apparent purpose, two cats lounged about on the paper maiche Olivia, a rabbit was trying to ignore the swarms of children hovering around his cage, and I hear there was a rat near the stage although I never made it that far.  Gosh what fun.  We probably stayed far too long for the money we spent but the visit of course re-ignited my not so small fantasy of being a shop owner.   There really is something really magical about good books, isn't there?

Thank goodness, Ryan and I have bred readers, at least so far.  There's few things more heartwarming to my geeky self than saying goodnight to both girls as the lay in bed books in hand.  (By the way- the cutie in my lap is my new niece Gillian.  I hope her parents don't mind that she's made it to my blog!)

Ah Family

In the spirit of the season and things to be grateful for, I thought I would share a few really funny vignettes about my lovely little family. (I.e., this is a cheap way to do multiple posts as one catch all.) I am sure I'll have more stories to tell after we return from our Thanksgiving adventures in Kansas.

So on to the first- Ryan and I have begun discussing the idea of earning an allowance with Isabel. We explained to her that in exchange for doing a set group of chores every week, she could earn some money. She could then spend that money as she saw fit. (We tried to explain that if she kept her money from week to week, she could save up to buy herself something really good.) I am all for the allowance and giving Iz some responsibilities around the house. We experimented with this idea last year using the Melissa and Doug responsibility chart. Iz was pretty responsive to it, but frankly, Ryan and I lost interest faster than she did. (Please imagine a frowning emoticon here.) This whole discussion about allowances happened on the fly after Izzy tried to strongly suggest we buy her a heinous and giant snow globe featuring the Disney princesses dancing around a equally heinous and giant Christmas tree to the sound of untuneful Christmas carols that she spied in Home Depot this past weekend. The whole experience brought home the fact that Ryan should NEVER hold discussions on the fly. He's just not good on his feet, unless it's a quick barb or witty repartee. But unconsidered parenting advice? Absolutely not. To be fair, I am pretty sure that it was Ryan that introduced the idea of an allowance, which you have to give him snaps for. Unfortunately he followed it with the following line- "Iz, you can earn up to a whole dollar a month." For Pete's sake, what century does he live in? I know she's only 4 but hello, Ebeneezer! Fortunately, he quickly reconsidered after I shot him one of my famous death rays and said "wait- how about a quarter a chore." With four chores, it equals to a dollar a week, which is a bit more in line with what I was thinking to start with. Then he starts ticking off what might be good chores for her to handle. On the top of his list- the cat box! So maybe he's not Ebeneezer but Cinderella's wicked stepmother?! I wouldn't let my worst enemy near that fecund mess of clay. (Never mind the aforementioned in a previous post problem the cats have with using the litter box.) Here I was thinking Izzy can clear the table after dinner, help fold some laundry, help her sister with her toothbrush and Ryan goes for the jugular. All in all, it wasn't a shining moment in dad history. I think mom will have to be in charge of this one. (Imagine smiling emoticon here.)

Second tidbit of the day- last night we hosted a dinner party for a friend of mine who we haven't seen in ages. I admit to getting hyperactive (as is my way) about the dinner party since I wanted it to go well and make a good impression. And I thought we were successful. The kids got along and behaved nicely. The guests ate much of the dinner and, of course, were gracious about the food even if they hated it. Folks left at a decent hour so I wasn't left to shout my goodbyes as I tried to wrestle the girls to bed- which I have done before on several occasions. So, all in all, a success- or so I thought. After everyone left and Ryan and I were cleaning up the plates, I noticed there was a chunk of the pot roast left that I had made for dinner. I thought I might give it to the cats as a treat. Please keep in mind that these are the same cats who have been known to eat crackers, popcorn, apple sauce, and whatever deconstructed food particles the girls leave laying around. So I shredded some of the roast and put it down in front of Coco, who is the main offender of said eating (and non-compliant pooping habits.) She took one sniff of the meat and started making forceful scratching motions towards it, as if she was covering it up in her litter box (which she does not use.) I was actually speechless although I do believe I shrieked.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Sisters

It's a two-fer today folks as I try to catch up on all my "important" news. Something very funny has been brewing in the Schroeder household these days. The girls are playing with each other. Don't get me wrong- Isabel and Lottie have been playing around each other for ages. You know- the classic parallel play. They will play in each other's company but usually they do their own thing. But over the past few weeks, Lottie has been seeking Izzy out to play. She pull out plates, colanders, dolls, blocks- usually whatever they have been last playing with and wanders around the house yelling "Izzy, Izzy." You can almost here the "come out to play" coming from her lips. It's really kind of cool.

Of course, playing together also means growing rivalry. (Here, for those of you familiar with the tune, please begin humming the sister song that Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen sing in "White Christmas" as my dad does to my sister and I whenever he hears us "discussing" things.) Usually, the rivalry goes no further than Lottie shrieking at the top of her lungs "mine!" when Izzy tries to play with a toy that Lottie is particularly keen on. It will get worse, as I know from experience. But it does make me look forward to the day when I can sit down with a trashy magazine and let them argue somewhere else in the house.

Is it wrong to envy the shoes of a 4 yrs old?

I've been meaning to share this little ditty for a few weeks now, but work has been intervening. (sigh!) I suppose I shouldn't complain about being productive in my day job. A few weeks ago, my sister brought her sons down to VA for a weekend visit. Being a good NJ mall girl, one of my first thoughts for entertaining a preschooler, two toddlers, one infant, and two mommies was to go to the LL Bean store! Hooray- commerce and love for all. We decided to extend our outing by having lunch at Nordstrom's fabulous cafeteria. Nordstrom really is a suburban mommy's best friend.

While we waiting for my sister to feed the baby, I took the girls over to the shoe department for a little fun. (Yes, I know this story keeps getting worse but it will get better in a very bad mommy kind of way.) I should preface this by saying that somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Isabel was likely to be in need of a new pair of shoes since she had chosen to wear only one pair over and over again for the past few months. I thought we would really make it a grand occasion so Izzy took her shoes off to have her feet measured by a "professional." Much to my horror, he told me she was a 10.5 and probably could easily fit into a size 11! Those pair of shoes that she'd been wearing over and over again for months- a 9.5!! Oh the guilt, the bad mommy coming home to roost. Really, I didn't want her to be a geisha. So I desperately combed the shoe rack for a pair that was not Juicy Couture and would not cost me $100 to buy. We settled on a pair of Merrells because they were pink and because they wouldn't freak out mommy's credit card. Of course, the day got even worse when we had Lottie measured (again for fun) and found out she too was wearing a size too small. Ugh. L did not get a new pair of Merrells, however, since I had a big box of shoes in the attic with her name on it, most of them Isabel rejects from a few years ago. Doesn't it stink to be a younger sister?

With my kids in shoes that actually fit, I began to mentally crank about my casual yet active footwear selection. Usually, this cranking came to the fore as I hiked the mile from the metro to my office. Ok- it's probably less than a mile and I could just transfer trains and walk about 10 feet but then how would I justify my cranking? My mind settled in turns on Isabel's pink Merrells and my desire for a pair of casual yet active footwear grew. I found myself daydreaming at work, casually checking out the Merrell website. I wandered over to the six (literally count them) Comfort Zone Shoes- the mecca of casual yet active footwear--in DuPont Circle. I tried to talk myself into waiting for my monthly trip to Target and checking out their selection. I didn't really need anything fancy. It didn't help matters when Ryan firmly told me that I was "too old" for a pair of Converse trainers. So I did it- I cracked. One somewhat chilly Friday night, I dragged my happy family with me to Nordstrom and bought myself a pair of Merrell's. Mine are brown, fwiw (in case you were afraid I'd go with pink.) Do I love them- absolutely. Did I need them- of course not!!

D-O-G (Sshh, Don't Say it Out Loud)

For those of you not living in DC and freakishly following every last detail of the Obama family as we are wont to do here these days in our nation's capital, you may not have caught that our president-elect told the crowd in Grant Park Tuesday night that he had promised his two girls a dog after the campaign had finished. Obama's apparent attempt to be fatherly and folksy to the electorate has set off a minor furor here. The NY Times and Washington Post both started blogging on the topic, taking readers "suggestions" for what kind of dog they should get (?!) Advocates of shelters and rescue societies went up in arms when Malia Obama suggested she might like a cockapoo since it wouldn't bother her allergies. One society actually wrote a letter to the Obama family reminding them of their duty towards unwanted pets as the first family. Yikes.

I told Izzy the other night at dinner about Malia and Sasha getting puppy. We've been talking more about the election process by relating it back to Malia and Sasha figuring she would understand that more. Fortunately, she hasn't become so populist to suggest that they might sleep over or vice versa. But at the news of an impending first puppy, she nodded solemnly. You see, Izzy also has puppy dreams. I am not sure when it started, but Izzy began asking for a dog much earlier than either Ryan or I expected. We figured we would be petitioned regularly beginning around 8 with the usual "I'll take care of the dog. I'll walk it, feed it, etc." Neither Ryan nor I are opposed to a dog in theory but it seems to be alot of responsibility and I am not entirely sure we're there yet. Last year, we adopted two sister kittens after our beloved Sally cat passed away. We thought Coco and Lulu might forestall the dog push but alas, they have not. They are loved and patient (and also- for the record refuse to use the litter box as regularly as we would like and have a problem scratching things.) They even occasionally condescend to be dragged on leashes around the front yard but (sigh) they are not dogs.

We thought we would put Izzy to the test this summer by having her spend a week with my mother-in-law's Westie, Piper. Piper is also sweet and patient but she is a dog and does poop and bark. She is also not as pliable as Izzy's stuffed doggies which she has taken to dragging around on ribbon leashes. Unfortunately, our little sabotage effort backfired and Izzy and Piper got on like a wildfire. There was nothing about Piper that put Izzy off. Piper was so generally agreeable (even to Lottie who liked to stick her fingers in Piper's ears, nose, etc all the while shrieking "Dogga") that she did a little too much for the cause of furry four legged friends everywhere.

So, we've more or less resigned ourselves to getting a dog at some point sooner rather than later (although sooner still has not been fixed with a time.) Or, I should probably say that I've resigned myself. Ryan's still resisting a bit. I've warned him that the dog would probably be a gift to him so that he couldn't say no. Izzy kind of recognizes that a dog is not going to materialize tomorrow but she's pushing big time for the dog to join the family before next Halloween. She has plans for her costume next year (sadly, aided and abetted by her mommy after what had to have been one glass of wine too many). Iz plans to go as Eloise, with me as Nanny, Dad as either the scotch drinking lawyer or tutor, and the dog as Weenie. Of course, that leaves Skiperdee, the turtle, for Lottie. Not sure she's going to dig that idea!

Election Day

We took the girls to the polls this morning. Although we were prepared to wait around (meaning we did bring a snack bag), we were thrilled to find almost no lines at the local high school. Thank goodness since the Washington Post and New York Times are portraying a total mess in other parts of Fairfax County. Explaining the process of voting and what it means to a 4 yrs old is hard (obviously Lottie was in it for the snacks and the sticker) but a large part of me wants to share this moment in our country's history with Izzy in a somewhat intelligible way. Ryan somewhat sarcastically said this morning that every election is an historic event and maybe he's right, but I do think there's something different about this one. Regardless of where you come down on the political spectrum, the fact that an African American man can run for and legitimately contend for the office of president of the United States is a really cool thing. It's about time that someone other than old white dudes got to represent our country to itself and the rest of the world. I know it wasn't a very PC thing to say but I'm with Michelle Obama on this one- for once in my adult life, I am proud of my country. And I am proud of the lines of folks waiting to vote and that enough people care to take part in this process. Ultimately, even if Barak Obama loses, I hope this moment represents a turning point for our country. Just as Hurricane Katrina exposed the absolute worst part of our nature, I hope this will become the best.

Cheers everyone and make sure you vote!

Boo

We survived another Halloween. I'll admit upfront that Halloween is one of my favorite yet most dreaded holidays. Favorite since it's a relatively low maintenance, high impact event. For the cost of puzzling out and sometimes assembling a costume, you have free entertainment for your kids plus a bucket of candy to boot. It's one of my most dreaded because we still are unable to accurately predict which Isabel will make an appearance on Halloween night. More often than not (at least recently), it is fear plagued Izzy, who despite the "tough talk" in the run up to trick-or-treating shows up and ends up in a puddle on the floor begging to go home immediately. Last year she got so worked up after seeing one homeowner dressed up like a ghoul, she bit Ryan on the neck. Needless to say, our Halloween ended promptly thereafter. This year we tried what we hoped would be a foolproof solution. We decided to forgo joining our friends in Old Towne and kept close to home. My sister and her sons as well as some local friends would join us for a spin through the neighborhood.

All was going well until Izzy decided to actually grace us with a nap before trick-or-treating. (A rare event these days.) I probably could have predicted that this would be a mistake since Iz doesn't wake up easily from naps. She's alot like Ryan in that way. The thought of hyper active, under-napped 4 yrs old was equally daunting, however. Sure as the sun shines, she woke up a terror. She didn't want to put on her costume, didn't want to trick-or-treat until we had dinner (!), wasn't going to go but decided at the last minute that she would, wanted to be carried, and then conveyed from house to house in a wagon that was meant to house her younger sister and cousin. All the while, I, ever graceful, tried to play this down, taking turns yelling and having a sickly sweet smile on my face for the benefit of the other parents and children. "Isn't this fun?" "ISABEL- get over here now!" "Don't you look cute?" "ISABEL- if you don't stop whining, you're staying home and getting NO candy." "Can Auntie Jozie take your picture?" "Don't sass me young lady. I am your mom and I CAN tell you what to do."

Eventually, everyone calmed down and we just had to listen to the incessant whine of "I want to go home now." Funny how when faced with the prospect of candy, the whining would cease momentarily until she resumed her position in her wagon/chariot. The other kids gamely ignored "Fancy Nancy." Our two years old companion soldiered on insisting that Owie can walk just fine and yes Owie would like more candy. Lottie, bedecked as Angelina Ballerina, had wrapped herself around my neck early on and would not countenance stopping or being put in the wagon. My nephew, Baz, was so taken back that he was being offered free CANDY that he walked around in a bit of a daze and kept forgetting to hold out his pumpkin bucket.

Perhaps the highlight/low point of the very short evening was passing by a house occupied by teenage girls and presumably their parents although the parents were not apparent that night. These girls clearly were into the grizzly side of the holiday and set up shop in their backyard in order to issue blood curdling screams randomly. This unnerved our small troop. I gamely tried to explain to the screaming girls that pint size people were going past. (They ignored this outright.) Our friend tried to explain to her son Owie that they were in fact laughing and proceeded to laugh somewhat maniacally herself to demonstrate this. Neither Owie nor any of us bought that. My sister then tried to overcome the screams by singing "happy songs" loudly. Again, to limited effect. Fortunately, Fancy Nancy was too busy pouting to be totally put off and if the smaller kids wet themselves, they could always argue that it was just the normal call of nature and for godness sake they were wearing diapers.

Next year, I think I'll lobby to man the door. It's less scary that way.