Ironically

Michelle, at three, likes to try to write her name and she can almost do it.  Almost.  In the last week or so I have seen all sorts of versions--Micelle, Mihelle, Mihcelle--but there is always something wrong with it.  Nothing big, just negligible little stuff.  

Today after church I saw Michelle on her tummy in our row, obviously writing something.  In a book.  Not our book.  I picked up speed as these details sank in, and she caught sight of me coming.  Donning a brisk, business-like air, she closed the cover and patted what was clearly in her mind a job well done...as indeed it was.  "Michelle"--for the very first time with all its letters in order--is now inscribed neatly in the front of one of our church's hymnals.   

A Little Crazy

Nectar

I took photos for a local restaurant this week. I'm really enjoying these.

Of The Early Development of Self-assurance

The other night Nelly excused herself from dinner to go to the bathroom.  This in itself was nothing remarkable--the interim restroom trip is either Nelly's ritual break from having to eat, or her game plan for final escape, or both, depending on the meal.  But she was gone for a long time, and when she came back there was an extra spring in her step. 

"The new toilet paper roll fell in the toilet," she began, but then noticing my stricken face she broke off and added reassuringly, "but I pulled it out again and set it on top."  Which was indeed what I found when I went to look: one super-absorbent roll sitting despondently on top of its holder.  Oh good. 

*** ***

Mona likes to climb the stairs.  She likes to go see Daddy in his office; she presumably likes risking life and limb to do so; and she likes getting away from Mommy.  The sense of imminent pursuit adds a dimension of thrill to an already exciting-enough adventure.   Our stair has that convenient sort of door that may be locked and then pulled shut on purpose, and sometimes (less conveniently) is locked and pulled shut by mistake.  Tonight from within the dark and locked stairwell I heard a small muffled voice.  "Mommy? Moooommy?"  I was about to unlock the door and let her out when it dawned on me that this was in fact the perfect opportunity to instill just a little distaste for stair-climbing into Mona.  So I stood there and waited.  "Mommy?" the voice inquired once more, and then relapsed into silence.  The silence continued so long that I got impatient and opened the door.  She sauntered out, perfectly calm, with a little nod in my direction. "Thank you much, Mommy," she said.

*** ***

A little later or earlier, I forget which, Mona approached me with a very special request.  She wished to use the toilet, and wanted me to put her on.  She was doing a very convincing little dance, too, so--the picture of the delighted parent--I whisked out the potty seat and perched her on it.  She grinned at me and I grinned at her.  And then we had this conversation:

Mona: Choclit?

Me: Welllll....

Mona: Choclit, please?

Me: After you go poop.

Mona, evincing no understanding: Choclit?

Me, with forced cheeriness and doing a little dance designed to be peppy and encouraging: But you have to go poop first!  Then you can have chocolate.

Mona: Choclit please?

Me: Can you go poop?

At last, punchily, but with a certain pity for my slowness in catching on, Mona said, "Noooooo."  

Fall

Namma And Nelly

Namma is sewing things for the girls, so I followed the fitting party and got a couple nice photos of Nelly and Namma. You should all look at Namma's blog for a bunch of other good grandkid photos.

Tappa's On the Ball These Days

Improving his core, Tappa has traded in the traditional office chair for this pink ball. So if he seems bouncier than usual, now you know why.

From The Top Ten Conversations You Wish Had Happened Half an Hour Ago

Ingrid:  Oh, by the way, Mom, Tuppence has some poop stuck to her behind.

Me, hyperventilating: What? What??
Ingrid, casually:  Yeah, and she was sitting in that chair over there.  I forgot to tell you.  

Of Candid Responses

A little while back, just before dinner, this exchange went on between the front and the back of the house.

Me: How's it going back there?

Ingrid:  Oh...not so well for me.  I'm still trying to fly.

*** ***

In the car and some time after the stop at Jack-in-the-Box, Peter thought he would have a little fun at Nelly's expense.  "Oh, Nelly!  Didn't you save any sandwich for me?  Oh, Nelly, none at all for Daddy?  Not any?"  And Nelly, who must be told to take every single bite and never under any circumstances builds up any dinnertime momentum of her own, looked at him morosely and said, "I give up."

Today

Michelle's Surgery

Yesterday was Michelle's long awaited palate repair surgery. She did very well, and so far the palate is holding together, and may even be helping her speak a little better already.

Here we are waiting for them to take her into the OR in the morning. This is right before they took her at about 7:15 AM.

Here's the machine in recovery that showed her vital signs.

This is the only other photo from recovery. A sad, sad place. I think she mostly felt confused and panicky.

With the help of Cinderella, Winnie the Pooh, and Wilbur she quieted down pretty well.

Another angle on the cartoon watching. We watched Cinderella twice yesterday and once first thing in the morning today. The funny thing... I don't think she's tired of it yet.

This is the view from the window. Lovely hospital.

And another angle...

And the other view of the room.

Misc Photos

Captain Lewis Roise, at your service

Mona had this black eye a couple of weeks ago after she fell off the couch backwards and bonked on various things as she fell down between the couch and the book shelf.

Mona's feet are still pretty chubby and kissable.

The three muses, the three furies, three daughters.... yes

Tooth brushing Lewis and Nelly style

Aahh, isn't she lovely?
A karate self-portait for your entertainment and enjoyment

And there's our class. Sensei Andrew all the way on the left; Sensei Laura all the way on the right. They are married and are both black belts. This is a great oportunity, hosted by the Nazarene Church here in Moscow.

Yellow Belt Club

Inge Got Her Belt

Lewis Gets His Belt

I Get A Yellow Belt Too

Video Again

The Kids Recite:

The Girls Head-Bang:

Apple Picking

We took our annual apple picking outing this Saturday. It was great. These are photos from my new Lumix LX3. I'm quite happy with it.

The windfall was amazing in this part of the orchard.

I love to take pictures of the beautiful fruit. This isn't my best ever, but it's worth posting.

Being on picture duty, I was also on Momo duty.

Nelly was on eating duty.

Aaaw... isn't she cute?!

This one too. This was a very large apple that Inge climbed up to pick.

Some of our friends went with us. Here's their baby enjoying an apple.

And Melissa and Alyssa...

And Claire, Melissa, and Bryony...

And this is Bryony's beautiful baby, Abigail.

Bryony and Abigail at the after-party

Abigail looking way too cool

HD Video

Now you can click on the links and get the HD video...

"Baba Mama"

Nelly Eats and Apple

Mona Hauls Apples

Similes

It's like when you're on your way home, walking, enjoying the flashy fall sunshine and the way the wind is wrestling the trees around and suddenly halfway there your son says, "Oh, I forgot my coat at the library." 

Or, you know, it's like when you are trying to cautiously close the closet door, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby, and after you move all the sleeping bags and the giant airplane and the fan, you realize the handle is actually tied onto the pony with a silk scarf.  Yeah, it's like that.  

High-wire Ducks and Other Funny Little Things

We have a squirrel who lives nearby and has been working the telephone wire route past our front window for about two years.  Mona thinks it is a duck and often hails it over her breakfast: "Duck!  Duck!"  And sometimes for good measure, "QUACK!"

*** ***

And then there are those times when your children, bored with making you look like a disorganized, unprepared, and whim-driven entity, try on for size the challenge of making you look like a Greenie instead.  Lewis at the library--the Moscow hotbed of liberalism--says today to the lady who is printing up our book receipt which is really quite long, "Um.  It looks like you are wasting that."  I was only taken aback (by this comment from my son who has never before in his life hesitated one moment before ruthlessly turning *anything* into utter hash), but the lady clearly became a little sheepish.  "Yes," she admitted ruefully, "others have noticed that as well." 

"Excuse me," I said, only wanting clarification.  "Did you say she was wasting that?"  "Yes," replied unabashed Lewis, who had embraced his role.  "Well," said the lady, blushing and handing us our paper:  "I'm sure you'll recycle it." 

Yeah.  That's what we'll do with it, all right.

*** *** 

I walked into the bathroom to check on the two little girls who were taking their bath, and Mona, who sometimes speaks German, looked up at me questioningly.  "Der eetch?" she inquired.  Nelly helpfully added, "Can you scratch my back?  It itches."  Scrubbing Nelly's back I was noting how even a small back can indicate where it wants to be itched--one of her shoulder blades was a suggestive two inches taller than the other--when Mona presented me with her own rag.  "Der back?" she requested.

*** ***

Earlier in that same bath had come a moment of real consternation.  Mona had pulled the plug, and Nelly, who harbors secret fears of one day disappearing down the bathroom drain, started tuning up her shrieker.  Mona was struck by the spectacle of this sudden and reckless terror, and trying for a cut above, joined in about thirty decibels and half an octave higher.  I arrived in the doorway to find two completely panic stricken girls.  One of them didn't know why, exactly, but that wasn't stopping her much.

*** ***

A recent facet of Nelly's character is a certain persistence about her desired choice of outfits for the day.  Suppose I assign something besides what she wants to wear: a long sleeved shirt and slacks for our rainy day, for instance, rather than the grubby tee-cum-floral-skirt ensemble that she had selected.  Pitiful weeping will follow this announcement to begin with, and sometimes she will go so far as to crumple to the floor, demonstrating how little fortitude she has to face the trials of the day without the proper garb.  (I'm sympathetic, really I am.)   But we get past this little hitch, and then the really interesting part begins.  On average once every thirty minutes, I will round a corner to find that the prescribed clothes have disappeared, and the small reprobate has once again reverted to her outfit of choice.  Or I will find her jammed secretly into the closet, in the process of effecting the change.  Or she will come romping out into the main room, charmingly oblivious to the repetitiousness of what is about to happen.  Socks are particularly subtle, because they can be shed anywhere at a moment's notice; and Nelly preserves a touching faith in the dictum, "What they don't see happen, will most likely never register." 

True as this sometimes is, Nelly is now on our radar, and if for the forty-fifth time today there is a pair of little bare feet swinging lightly under the kitchen table, at least I am finally learning to notice.

"You did WHAT?"

Here's one of the things that we sold at the Fall Jolly here in Moscow this year. The good news? There are still some left. Let me know if you want one, or perhaps the whole collection.

Videos

"Bye, Poop" by Mona

Mona and the Musical Book

St. Inge of Assisi