Cold Spaghetti

Lesson One: Using the Potty.
First, refuse to use it. Even if your knees are pressed together to prevent an accident. Then, insist on being in the bathroom alone. Once everyone has sufficiently made some distance between themselves and the bathroom, call for help. You can’t open that toilet seat yourself… it’s too heavy, it’s wet, you suddenly hate the color white… use whatever works. Insist on being lifted to the toilet. Threaten an accident, this will make them work faster. Insist that you can wipe yourself and remove half a roll of toilet paper before feigning dramatic failure.

Lesson Two: Bathtime.
First, refuse a bath. Then work towards negotiation. What extra treats and privileges will getting a bath give you? Be creative. Once a contract has been established, be cooperative to the point of entering the bathing area. Then promptly get lost in your clothes and go hysterical. The more you can get your clothes twisted, turned inside-out, and stretched — the better. Perch on the edge of the tub and insist that the water is too hot. Then insist that it is too cold. Keep up these extremes until you are thrown into the water. Once in, find every toy you can to make the biggest possible splashes. Extra points if you can get your bath towel soaked or cause Mommy to submerge her sleeves into the water. Once out of the tub, hug Mommy as many times as you can before you are dry. Be sure to insist on evaluating at least 3 sets of pajamas before going for a fourth to wear.



Lesson Three: Bedtime.
First, refuse bedtime. Insist on your alertness, even if it means pinching yourself to stay awake. When you have run out of options, go boneless. You’re too tired to walk, you can’t move. Drag yourself, in your clean pajamas, along the floor — this makes for great impact. Once you’re in your room, perk up enough to take a pile of at least 12 books for bedtime reading. Negotiate down to no less than 8, making sure you’ve picked the longest ones. Note page numbers and make sure every sentence on every page is read thoroughly. Stall everywhere. There are monsters in your closet, under your bed, and even some inside your pillowcase. You are hungry, thirsty, and cold. Also, you’re hot and your tummy hurts. Once you have been left alone in your room for sleep, get out of bed and drag your pillow and blankets into the hallway, it sends the message that you are still in charge. Set up your own sleep space there. If they don’t notice you, take a few minutes to erase your chore chart before settling into your chosen restful spot. Then curl up in the hallway and settle in for sleep. If you happen to wake up a few minutes later in your own bed, promptly pee. If necessary, remove your pull-up to ensure your blankets are wet. Then cry out for Mommy. If you do this enough, she’ll run out of laundry and have to bring you to her bed by default. Once you are in Mommy’s bed, kick, curl, cuddle, and lay on her all through the night. You want her nice and exhausted in the morning — it will make the your lessons much more effective tomorrow.

Hail the holiday school party!

The report:

Girl child remained preciously cute and worked the tables for multiple brownies.  Papa Noel brought her a little snow globe, which is protectively located three inches from her face, lest it become stolen in the night.

Boy child remained the kid on stage who, while 20 others stand calmly and sing, proceeds to pick his nose, scratch himself, swing around, randomly throw in extra-loud lines of song, and even — oh yes, even this — lick his finger and stick it into the ear of his friend beside him.

Aye.

I suspected tar and feathering were in the works, and though I did take pause for a moment, decided a getaway was better.  We snuck quietly out the backdoor, where a friend picked us up for the escape.

My daughter, er, no, my HUSBAND’S CHILD got into our office drawers in the wee hours of the morning.  She proceeds to take a sheet of stamps.  And another sheet of stamps.  And some tape.

It’s too traumatic for me to go much further.

So, does anyone know?  Will the Post Office swap ruined stamps for ones still fit for circulation?

Also?  What does one do with a child who is remaining grounded until age 40?

Wonderful Mariachis play in the background.  Kate, desperate to say something, struggles to find her words. “I…. I…. I…. I….” she repeats.

I turn to Paul.  “I think our daughter’s record is skipping.”

“Nah,” answers Paul, “I’m waiting for her to say ‘Canta y No Llores.’”

8pm flight from LaGuardia and I’m back in short-sleeved 85 degrees New Orleans before midnight.  With this to greet me.

(Photo by Paul, and outfit by A., I think?)

Aye, but there’s a rub.

Notice Kate’s front tooth?  The one on the right in the picture?  See how it’s gray?  It’s from when she fell a few weeks ago.  My Colombian go-to Dentist friend checked her out and advised x-ray due to abscess potential — gray indicates restricted blood flood which usually heals on it’s own, but could also worsen.  As I understand it.  We’ve been busy and the whole no dental insurance thing has us gun-shy.  (To my credit, I did call the LSU children’s clinic — THREE TIMES — and never got a call back.)

A few times Kate has complained of tooth pain, though we’re not sure if was really legit (or just her hearing me freak out about it.)

Anyone else have experience with the gray tooth?

Recorded last spring.  On a day she was sent home from school due to illness (tummy troubles).

Kate under normal circumstances is simply impossible to capture in modern video techniques.

Today is Bastille Day and, as one might expect for a French summer camp, there were school-related activities.  Sometime last week, Kate’s teacher sent home notes asking the students to wear costumes for Bastille Day for their party and parade.  Accordingly, I planned on not thinking about it until 8am this morning, roughly 30 minutes before leaving for school.

Thanks to a tu-tu stuck in the back of her closet, Kate was a cloud:

She is holding a Christmas ornament with a picture of herself in it at age 7 months.  I have no idea from where she took said ornament or why she insisted on posing with it this morning.

The white bracelet?  She made it at school last week.  I thought it gave her outfit just the right touch.

Surprise! Three part-time jobs, two kids, and one dissertation make the world a very busy place. Not that I am doing much on that last one. Thankfully, my one marriage is pulling through for me. Paul is agreeing that I should GO AWAY to write. The jobs are too demanding, the work continues to pile up, and the distractions are too plentiful. If I ever want to finish, I am going to have to fall off the edge of the earth.

Since it’s the New Orleans equivalent to dead of winter around here (in that it’s so stinkin’ hot tourists are frying on the sidewalk), local hotels have some great deals. Doesn’t it sound all romantic and artist-y to escape to the Quarter to write? (The mind boggles with wonder at how I will ruin what otherwise would be a perfect working escape.)

But wait! More surprises! Did you know that Monsters like to eat Poop? Yes, they do, according to Kate, who is the Household Authority on the habits of Monsters. As for me, all I can really say about Monsters is that when not terrorizing children’s dreams, they moonlight as Imaginary Friends. Watch out, because you might find that your chair at the dinner table is now THE MONSTER’S chair. That same Monster may forget to share when playing. He may also make horrible messes in bedrooms after tuck-in. But the biggest issue is that whole poop thing. Due to Monsters, an otherwise potty-trained little girl might just develop a toilet phobia surrounding her pooping.

And this means A LOT of surprises.

(Anyone out there in the interwebs tackled the Monster??)

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AND… it’s time for JUST POSTS! Check ‘em out and send in your fabulous writing and reading!

Will’s life as a big brother goes something like this:

1. Kids are independently playing in public space.
2. Kate is run over by big kid.
3. Will is tasked with watching over his little sister.
4. Kids proceed to play extra cute.
5. Kate falls.
6. Will helps her up.
… and …

Poor kid. Every darn time.

Offered on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays: it’s JAZZERCISE with KATE!

Leg warmers optional.

Aerobics not your style?  Try some yoga with our own in-house Yogi…