The After School Project: Day 5

Let's call this one "Mama's Finger."

Or maybe "Dancing in the Seat."



No, it's definitely called Mama's finger.

Sorry!

The After School Project: Day 4

In today's installment, I'd like to point out how Ella is singing and Marina is being quiet until they realize the camera is on.
Then?
PERSONALITY SWITCH!!

The After School Project: Day 3

It's back!
Here's your special twins edition:



I thought about translating again, but even I can't decipher it all.

Portraits

I was on the computer, probably messing around on Facebook longer than I should have, and when I looked over to see what Marina was doing I saw this:



Her very first happy faces!

Just in time for Hanukkah, too. Guess what you're getting, family?

Sudsy McGee

Every month or so, I get a photo essay from Ella's class showcasing all the stuff they've been up to, like trips to the pumpkin patch and playing dress up.

These are the only two shots that surfaced of my kid:

H1N1 Halls

So I started the after school project and then the girls go and get super super sick and stop going to school.

Today Marina was diagnosed with Influenza A. Go ahead and read about it. So is that H1N1? They didn't say that at the doctors office, but?

If that's not freaky enough, on the way to the doctor, Marina sneezed and, I kid you not, bright, red blood came gushing out of her nose. Like a full on horror film, only with preschoolers. But apparently it's normal for someone who has been as congested as she has.

So they gave Marina the pink, bubble gum antibiotic and Ella got some Tamiflu because she's asthmatic and probably has the virus, too.

Anyway, that is why there have been no more after school projects.
Though I bet that if I'd recorded the bloody sneeze it would have made me a bigger Youtube sensation than these kids.

The After School Project: Day 2

One minute in the car, animal edition. Can you name them all?



Hard to believe she got a 102.9 degree fever a few hours later.

After school project

I never know what to expect when I pick up the girls from school.

Some days it's very cinematic. They see me from across the parking lot and run to me with their arms outstretched yelling "MOMMY!" Other days, not so much.

In an effort to capture their various moods, I am starting a series called The After School Project: One Minute in the Car.

Here's the first installment:



UPDATE: It was pointed out to me that not everyone is as fluent in toddler as I am. So here's a little help:

Me: Hi

Ella: Hee, go away.

Marina: It’s not recording me.

Ella: No coffee for me :(

Marina: I found a coffee for you, Ella. Here.

Ella: For Mommy. For Mommy.

Marina: No, it’s for you, my dearie.

Ella: NOOOO. GO AWAY.

Marina: Awwww. Here my dearie, here’s a coffee.

Ella: GO! AWAY!

Marina: Awwww. I still want to get you a coffee.

Ella: No! Get flowers. I said. Get flowers.

Just talking

Me: "Are you my love?"

Ella: "No."

Me: "Who is, then?"

Ella: "Marina. I'm your princess."

Thanksgiving Bread: The feature film

The lost Marina files

Don't worry, Marina, we're not leaving you out.

Look what I just found.

Ella's photos may be cute and all, but this stuff - even without sound - made me get weepy in ways I didn't know were possible.

Happy Birthday Ella

Dear Ella,

This is you on Nov. 24, 2007:



Here you are on Nov. 24, 2008:



And this is you on Nov. 24, 2009:



Aren't you just amazing?

No pictures, please

Me and Ella avoid the paps.

Keep trying

I'd like to show off my latest kitchen achievement:



Why, yes, that is a roast chicken with broccoli flourish. Did I buy that at Windmill Farms? Not this time.

Last weekend, I learned how to handle a raw chicken, how to remove slimy things from its body, how to stuff the empty space with lemons and garlic and how to turn it over while piping hot.

I obviously did not do this by myself. My friend, who makes amazing Thai food and acts like it's no big deal, is teaching me how to cook.

And, okay, she's the one who handled the slimy stuff. And flipped the hot chicken. And cut the broccoli. But I am totally confident I'll pull this off when I try it on my own ten years from now.

Nachas*

I didn't think I'd be the type of parent who would put those "my child won student of the month at Smith elementary" stickers on my car. But then I got these two notes on the same day and I was so mushy and proud, that it seriously made me question my future actions.

Here's Ella's:



This proves what I've been saying since she was born, that Ella's the nicest person I know.

And then there's Marina's.
Her class is The Bears and she was Bear of the week. Here is her little Q&A:



*For those of you who don't speak Yiddish, nachas means "pleasurable pride, especially in your child's achievements."

Miss Tijuana

Because everyone is asking, here is the photo my artist friend, Derrik Chinn, took of me for his exhibit, "Quien Quiere Ser Miss Tijuana?" (Who wants to be Miss Tijuana?)

He assigned eight of us different neighborhoods and dressed us up all Almodovarian. I got an area called Chapultepec, which is where I spent a good part of my teenaged life. It's also sort of a fancy neighborhood, hence my gold dress, which also happens to be my original prom dress.
Anyway, the show opened in Tijuana over the weekend and it was spectacular. If you check his site some time this week (and are not offended by sexy comic books) I'm sure he'll post more photos.

I didn't win the crown but it was the closest I've ever come to being a pageant girl.
Gracias, Derrik.

Halloween aftermath

Untitled

Because no words can describe how I felt when this happened:



For those of you who don't get it, clicky clicky.

A working kitchen

Ohmygod, you don't even want to know what's been happening in my kitchen.

Actual cooking. With multiple ingredients. And sauces that thicken.

I took a cooking class on my birthday called Mac and Cheese 101 and while I was there, I bought a toddler cookbook along with a few gadgets, like a super deluxe apple slicer and a pizza cutter.

Since then, I've been on a roll. I am cooking, like, all the time.
Here are some things I made:

1. Treasure Triangles, which was basically a black bean and banana paste inside a puff pastry. Result: Kids did not eat it.

2. Mac and Cheese that was not from a box. Result: Everyone ate it.

3. Zucchini and avocado soup. Result: Gross.

4. Pan fried chicken and gravy. Yes! Gravy! It worked! Result: Awesomeness.

How long do you think this will last?

Tulle envy

For those of you without Facebook, here is Marina at her friend Noa's fourth birthday party. Can you guess the theme?

Hint 1: It involves a lot, a lot of pink.



Hint 2: And twirly skirts.



Hint 3: Wands and crowns.



Hint 4: And wings!



For those of you playing along, the correct answer was: fairies! Nice job.

Where am I?

Our house has bronchitis. We will be back with family antics soon . . .

In which I turn into a plant lady

It's no fun moving from a luxury house to a much smaller furlough house with no central air and wobbly window screens. So I decided that to make myself feel better about it all, I was going to invest a plant biome.



Isn't it so amazing? It's made by a local artist who specializes in cactus and succulents and puts them in glass orbs like this. Many of them are tiny and are meant to hang from the ceiling. But I wanted a big one that could be mounted on the wall. She created quite a world in there.



And perhaps my proudest moment since I moved away from my parents house was figuring out how to mount it. I hung this! All alone!



Since my purchase, I have collected four more plants for the house. Most people know my history with plants and it's not good. So I really hope my new little green family lasts more than a month.

Things my kids eat

Overheard in the bath . . .

Marina: Ella, you're blonde now!

Ella: I not.

Marina: Yeah, you are!

Ella: I'M NOT BLONDE.

(Bam! Bam! Bam!)

Marina: Stop hitting me!!!!

Friends?

This is me trying desperately to be Ella's friend.



Since she started the two-year-old class and even more since she got a fever last week, the kid has been moody and miserable. Which may explain her new game. It goes something like this:

Ella: You're not my friend. Daddy is my friend.
Me: Boo hoo.
Ella: Sorry. Sorry. (Hug.) You're not my friend. Daddy's my friend.
Me: Boo hoo.
Ella: Sorry. Sorry. (Hug.)

You want me to keep going? Because it keeps going.

Cute overload

Ella stayed home sick and hung out with me all day.
You know, we went to Target and then watched some Yo Gabba Gabba and did some laundry. All in all, not a bad day. At least, I didn't think so.

But the minute we went to pick up Marina from school, Ella ran over to her and gave her a gigantic hug. Then Marina rubbed her back and was all, "are you ok?" And then they hugged some more.
On the ride home, Ella reached over to hold Marina's hand and they didn't let go until we got to Jamba Juice, which is, at least 8 entire minutes.

Really, I don't know what I did that drove Ella into the protective arms of her sister, but I hope I do it again.

Forgive me while I get weird about PJ

Today I was on super deadline and the music in my headphones was a bit louder than usual and this song came on.



I was struck by how great it still is 16 years later. I don't know how she makes the instruments sound like they're crying and telling their own story. It's all tense and stressful and beautiful.

Sorry. I know I am ridiculous when it comes to PJ Harvey.

But it got me thinking, what if I never heard this album? What would have happened to me? Where would I be?

Why the 90s were awesome

It turns out today is the 10-year anniversary of the day my favorite TV show of all time - "Freaks and Geeks" - premiered.

Mouse cult

If you're from Southern California, Disneyland is just something you do.

Before I met Matt, I never saw anything wrong with this. But he and other people (hello Bostonians) have it in their mind that Disneyland is just another evil corporate empire.

Sure, it is that.

But it's also the most amazing, happiest place in the entire world.

I converted Matt years ago. And on Friday I added three more first-timers to the list:

Let's hear it for Ella! Who couldn't contain her excitement during "It's A Small World."



And Marina! Who upon walking into a room with Mickey Mouse ran straight for a hug.
How could anyone hate the Mouse?



Finally there's Barnaby! He couldn't resist the cheesingly awesome jokes aboard the Jungle Cruise!

Juice or no juice

We bought just one pineapple juice at Disneyland.

And then the cutest thing happened:

Marina Ballerina

For the boys, it was moving day. For Marina, it was the first day of ballet!



No parents or crybabies allowed in Miss Rachel's class.



So I had to take this picture through the frosted glass. She's the smallest one on the right.

In transition

We are in the middle of moving.

I was super worried that our new house was much too small. But the girls have decided that they want to share a room. Because they are best friends.

What was supposed to be Marina's luxuriously huge room is now a playroom/office. So I can update this blog AND watch the kids at the same time. Genius idea, girls!

So far, naptimes are a total bust.

But the night is going all right, mostly because Matt goes in there and tells them stories about blasting off in a rocket ship and going to the zoo.

My own Maria

You think you got the best of me, August?
With that burn incident? And the flat tire? And the second round of layoffs? And the house-hunting? And the heat? And all those late-night assignments? And when my baby fell off the playground ladder?

Well think again.

Because every time I wanted to cry this month - and trust me, there were lots - I thought about this and went straight to my newfound happy place.

Mama loves Nortec

Last night I worked at Street Scene, a big musical festival in downtown.
I was really excited to see Nortec, a group of guys from Tijuana who mix the city's regional music with electronica. There's no other music that captures the feeling of growing up in a border town. Not even The Smiths.

It reminded me of all those weekends in Tijuana I would spend at my cousin Jacky's house and we'd drive around (or get driven around, to be more accurate). Outside we'd hear Norteno music with all its accordion-filled glory playing at the pharmacy. In our car we were listening to Depeche Mode. And somehow Nortec mashes those two sounds together, those two cultures together.

Last night's performance was definitely a highlight of the festival, and maybe even the year.



So in honor of the show and all the great old feelings it brought up, I decided to make tonight's dance party (with an extra preschool pal) a Nortec one.

It looks like the music speaks to this group of border kids, too.



(In case you want to hear it, this is the song that was making them run around like that:)

The day I tried to cook

I saw a recipe in Real Simple the other day for roasted potatoes and steak. It looked easy enough. I recognized all the ingredients. Marina loves potatoes. It was perfect.

So there I am browning the meat on the stove and it's looking good. Then the directions said to finish cooking the meat in the oven. Easy. All right.

About 20 minutes later, a burning smell, a smell that's very familiar to me, invaded the kitchen. The potatoes were toast. But the meat was ready and it looked good. Also, the girls were fighting over plastic horses.

After trying to save the potatoes and evenly distributing horses, I went back to cut the meat. Only. I forgot the pan had been in the oven. I grabbed it. I held it for a good 8 seconds before I realized my flesh was being charred.

I screamed, ran it under water, grabbed a frozen bag of corn and went along with my business. But it wasn't getting better, so I went to Windmill Farms for some homeopathic relief.

The dude at the store looked at my hand and basically said get the hell out of there and go to the doctor.

I only try to cook once every few months and what happens to me? I get second degree burns. My hand was wrapped in gauze with an Ace bandage on top of that. It looked very much like a big mitt on my right hand. The same hand I use to type. And take notes. And get dressed. And change diapers.

I went in to work for a few hours but I was totally useless. Matt was with the girls and I would be totally useless to them, too.

So you know what I did? I went to the movies. I went and I watched the Julia Child movie and waited and waited for her to have some sort of kitchen accident and she did not.

And the lesson I took from all this was that I need to look into French cooking.

Cocktail hour

Last night we went to dinner at a friend's house and Ella had some "stomach trouble" - the kind that requires prunes.

My friend asked if she could make Ella a prune cocktail?

The other preschoolers at the table thought the word cocktail was pretty amazing. So immediately Marina and her friend, Asher, began asking about cocktails.

"Why is Ella getting a cocktail?"
"Can I have a cocktail?"
"Cocktail! Cocktail! Cocktail!"

All of a sudden my friend presented the kids with three glasses of water. The water had grapes and pieces of prune swimming around at the bottom, AND, they were served in cute cocktail glasses.
As if nothing, the three kids picked up their cocktails and sat around the table drinking, like little grown ups.

So now my kids love cocktails.

But wouldn't toddler cocktails be the greatest business idea, you guys?

Example:
Trouble sleeping? Belly up to the bar and try a chamomile cocktail!
Upset stomach? Here's the mint cocktail!

I'm totally down to open this up if anyone out there wants to send me some start-up cash.

Changes

So we're moving. Really soon, too.

Because of the furloughs at work, we couldn't really afford our house anymore. Well, we could afford it. We just couldn't buy the kids new clothes or shoes or fun dinners at Blind Lady without having a major panic attack about it.

Our new house is about a mile from where we are now and it's almost the same, except for more compact.

Change is happening at work too.

They're moving the remaining features writers into the main part of the newsroom. That means I'll be closer to Matt. I can't decide if that's weird or cool.

Also, Marina and Ella will be in new classes. And for the first time since we started going to this school, I will not have to get out of my car to pick them up!

While I get an extra 10 minutes of Steve Inskeep, the girls will be delivered to my car like a drive-through, yipee!

So we're all starting fresh and how appropriate that it falls right around the Jewish New Year.

See, I am a good Jewish girl.

No smile day

Because they laid off lots more people at work today and it was, once again, super sucky in there, I thought I would just post some non-smiley photos that still seem to make me happy.

Like Marina and Matt acting all hipstery during the swan boat ride in Boston.



And Ella so exhausted and jet-lagged, yet still making the half-hearted effort to sit on the duckling statue.

Ella's terrible, no-good day

If Ella was a grown up, yesterday would have been one of those days where she'd be all, "I need a drink."

It started off at school.
Ella is allergic to peanut butter, but has sunflower seed butter in her class to eat on the days they serve peanut butter snacks.

Yesterday she got a little impatient, took some kid's peanut butter cracker and BAM! Rash.

Later, I took the girls to the pool and in ten minutes, Ella hit her head on the edge of the pool. (No tears.) Then she got her head stuck in a chair and hit her chin. (Lots of tears.)

But then came the most horrible thing I have ever seen.

Ella wanted to slide and climbed up a very tall ladder. I wasn't standing right behind her and all of a sudden I see my baby fall from four very, very high rungs.

I saw her fall. In slow motion. Just suspended in mid-air. And then land on her back on a pile of sand.

Silence.

After a huge panic attack (by me) and screaming (by her) she is fine. Instead of asking for a glass of vodka, she requested her "paci."
Yes, she still uses a pacifier. Shoot me.

Can you imagine all that happening to you in a day?

I need a drink.

My silence, explained

Why I have not blogged:

1. I'm still doing laundry from the Boston trip.

2. I write for the Business section now and my brain power is exhausted at the end of the day.

3. I am always on Craigslist looking for the perfect new house.

4. Any free time is spent at 3-year-old birthday parties.

5. I am getting ready for one of three music festivals.

6. My entire family is here to celebrate my grandfather's 90th birthday.

7. I am still not recovered from Comic-Con

8. Or that night Angela and I made our triumphant return to Pac Shores.

9. I am indulging in the "emphasis in creative writing" side of my English studies.

10. July was hard.

Honey Bear

I am working Comic-Con this week and we had to come up with a bunch of story ideas.

An idea I loved (but no one else did) was to go to the vendors area and find the absolute, most ridiculously cute item. Last year I got Marina that Totoro doll. And this year, since the creator of Totoro, Hayao Miyazaki, will be attending for the first time and promoting Ponyo, I am sure there will be cute overload.

(What the hell? When did I get all geeky about Comic-Con stuff? But, see, there is a point behind my story idea even if no one else quite bought it.)

Anyway, the reason for this long story is because, no matter how hard I look, I don't think I'll find anything as cute as Ella feeding Greek yogurt to the honey bear.

Hey Jack Kerouac

I've been to Massachusetts many times, but I never had a chance to see Lowell.

Lowell, of course, is where Jack Kerouac was born and raised. I already saw the San Francisco house where he wrote On the Road. And I spent a week at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics in Boulder, Colorado. So, yes, you can say I was once pretty obsessed with him.

Once I got older, though, I realized that he was a drunk and sort of a misogynistic jerk. But I still felt I had to see the park built in his honor. So during our recent trip to Boston, I made the family get in the car and go to a random, working-class neighborhood in Massachusetts.

When we got to Lowell, it was exactly as I imagined, with brick buildings and few trees and random storefronts, which, of course, is a testament to Kerouac's writing.

That made me like him all over again.



The park, however, was a bit small. Just some marble blocks with passages from his work, most of them Lowell-related. It had just rained, so everything was slick, meaning you couldn't sit on the bench and read as it was obviously designed for you to do.

Also there were some people, maybe homeless, maybe not, sitting around drinking at 10 a.m.

It was all kind of endearing, though. It was exactly what it was supposed to be: a little place in a crummy part of town instead of some shiny, commercialized tourist trap.

There was an empty bottle of cheap vodka on the ground and I'm not sure if it was genuine or some sort of plant, you know, for extra "Beatnik" authenticity.



We stayed for a while, reading the different excerpts but Marina was upset there was no playground. Plus she kept saying she wanted to go back to Friendly's.

And then Ella got a hold of the vodka.



Yeah, time to go.

Dear Marina,

Remember when you were crooked in my belly and you were pushing on my back until I cried and felt like I could have died?

Remember when you had newborn eye gunk and when your hair stuck up like a tiny rooster?



Remember when we'd go to the movies in a theater full of other freaked out new moms? And remember how you'd sleep through all of them until we went to see Marie Antoinette and the colors and music had you fascinated and you stayed awake the entire time even though you were only four months old?

Remember when you got the stomach flu and then gave it to me and your dad and none of us could move for 24 hours?

Remember the first time you got ice cream at Mariposa and how we'd go there when I was pregnant with Ella and drink chocolate and vanilla shakes?

Remember when we went to Ensenada and you played in the pool and ate guacamole?


Remember how that's the trip where you became best friends with your dad?



Remember how you were obsessed with the graduation song and we'd listen to that tune three times a day for six months?

Remember how you were the loudest singer at your school recital?

I remember all those things and so much more.



Happy Birthday, my big girl.

"If you are bored then you are probably a boring person." (Quote from 10th grade English class.)

I grew up in Chula Vista, which was recently named The Most Boring City in America by Forbes or some magazine. I'm not even kidding.

When the report came out, I figured the research was done by a bunch of ignorant white folk. I mean, yes, Chula Vista may be lacking in quality music venues and fancy restaurants, but it's a lot more interesting than the quiet suburban neighborhood where I live now.

In Chula Vista you hear so many different languages all the time. Spanish at the supermarket. Tagalog at the mall. English at the gas station. And you can find spices and foods from all over the world. The music blasting out of the cars can have beats or accordion or both. The people are different shapes and colors, unlike north of Del Mar, where I am often the most "ethnic" person at the party.

And for this reason I love going to Chula Vista's neighborhood beach, Imperial Beach, more than the ritzier La Jolla Shores or Coronado. Yes, IB gets a bad rap for being so close to the border and, yes, it's had water contamination problems. (But so has Mission Bay, people.)

IB is where we went for our first beach trip of the year this past weekend, and it was perfect. Front row parking, no more than 50 steps to a spot with wet sand for ultimate castle-building. Mexican kids playing with gringo kids. Lifeguards cruising on ATVs and waving to the girls.

Ella hasn't been to the beach since she's been able to walk and she didn't know what to do with so much open space. For the first 10 minutes, Marina and Ella ran in circles on the sand and then went straight for the waves.

Marina had more fun knocking down castles and jumping over sand hills and burying Matt's toes. Ella diligently worked on tiny little "cakes," filling a bowl with sand and then turning it over to reveal a perfect sand cake.

It wasn't boring. It wasn't boring at all.

The new look

So I was home one day on furlough, procrastinating the mess I had to clean up, and started tinkering around on the computer. That's how this blog got a new look.

Really, it's just a picture of the day the girls were on the Seaport Village merry-go-round on election day.

I like the blurry lights in the picture, for sure. But I also like how this is a snapshot of a memory because that day everyone was in a good mood and excited. We had a pizza party and Marina was running around singing "I got McCain! I got McCain!" just because it agitated her dad and grandfather and uncle and mother.

And, as we did not get McCain, it makes the picture that much more special.

June update

So this month hasn't been quite as tragic as some past Junes (but there's still time!).

Even so, I've been light on the blogging because Marina is going through a phase. Or, at least it better be a phase. It's kind of an awful phase.

She's being so, so mean.

In the morning, she comes in to Ella's room all sweet and cuddly. She gives us hugs. She may even give Ella a little head pat. But then: mean.

She'll take Ella's pacifier out of her mouth and throw it under the bed. Mean!

She'll take Ella's blankie and run around the house just to hear Ella cry. So mean!

She yells at Matt if he doesn't press the right song on the Yo Gabba Gabba play mat. Meanish.

She screams at me if I poured a litte or medium amounts of orange juice/water/milk instead of a lot. Spoiled!

So that's our kid at the moment: a meanie.

Yet when I read this over, some of the things she's doing sound sort of like the things I did to my own brother. And I'm slowly starting to realize, this isn't a phase, it's payback.

Diseased

Ella has something called hand, foot, mouth disease.
Who would name a minor rash something so awful like that? Seriously.

It's all happening

We rented a jumpey for Marina's birthday party.

We don't even know what time her party is or what we're doing or anything.

All we know is that for a few hours we are going to have a pink and purple princess castle jumpey in our backyard and no one else can jump in it if we don't want them to and it's going to be awesome.

Enough with the videos already

When Ella was just a few months old, I told people that she was the nicest person I'd ever met.

Everyone was like, whatever, of course a baby is nice. But maybe this is that "mother's instinct" thing people keep talking about because I insisted it was different, unexplainable. She is just really, really nice.

And she is proving that maybe I do have mother's instinct after all (which I doubted because I never felt, like some people say they do, whether I was having a boy or a girl until the Ultrasound told me).

Yesterday, while hanging out in the living room, Ella walked up to me and said "besos." And then she gave me a kiss. She did the same to Marina, though Marina didn't see this as nice at all.

Then, Ella walked up to me and said something I'd never heard her say before, so it took a minute to figure it out: ovu.

What? Ovu?

Wait. Did she just say I love you? She did!

She said Ovu and then gave me a kiss. And then she said Ovu to Marina and gave her a kiss.

Sooo nice, right? Right?

(And props to Marina for not saying "don't love me.")

That one Friday we had pudding for dessert

It started off so innocently.



I didn't stop them because, you have to admit, it was kinda cute.



Especially when Ella laughs like this:



And the grand finale, in which, I swear, I did not tell her to sing that song.
(If you only watch one video on this post MAKE SURE YOU WATCH THIS ONE.)

"Don't Cry To Me"

It just speaks for itself, really




Afterthoughts:

1. I recorded this at a stop light.
2. Don't be alarmed by Ella's screaming at the end, she's fine. (She had something foul in her diaper, if you really want to know.)

Genetics

Anyone who knows me relatively well knows that for a variety of reasons, I hate June.

Yes, Matt tried to fix it by proposing to me in the London Underground on June 1. And it helped tremendously. But still, my fear of June is practically an automatic reaction.

So on Sunday, when I realized the next day would be June 1, I said to Marina, "tomorrow is June."

I swear, that's all I said. I didn't even say it all dramatic or huffy or sad. So I was super surprised when she said:

"I don't like June."

!!!

If there's ever a way to prove a kid is mine, it looks like she just passed the test.

Big decission

It's 4 p.m. and the girls are still napping.
Wake them up? Or keep reading gossip web sites?

Spaz Attack

Here's part two, just so you all see I didn't let my child fall on her head.



And in case you're riveted enough to want to see how it ends:



Happy 18-month birthday, Bellie Bells.

What I Did Last Night

Thanks for the photos, Derrik!

The day we climbed a mountain

I admit, it wasn't my brightest moment, but last Sunday I thought it would be fun to take the girls to Cowles Mountain.

(To all you out-of-towners, Cowles is a hiking mountain about 5 minutes away from our house. It's almost always packed with runners, hikers, families and dogs!)

Marina and Ella LOVED it right away. The climbed up the trail with no problem whatsoever. Marina interjected sayings along the way like "this is a tough hike!" and "we're going so high!"

Ella only stopped to wave at dogs and fellow toddlers.

It was all going so well and we got about 1/4 up (which is impressive for one mom and two kids under age 3, ok?).

We stopped for a snack of water, bananas and apples and everyone decided it was time to head back down.

And then it was trouble city.

Marina wouldn't let go of my hand and walked suuuper slow. Which was fine. But Ella was much too excited about the prospect of going downhill to go slow.

Ella ran down the hill, ignoring the jagged rocks and slippery dirt. I kept imagining her falling and cracking her head on one of the rocks and I'd be standing on the mountain with a bleeding baby and Marina not letting go of my hand.

So I caught up to Ella, pulling Marina along. Whenever there were stairs or a steep section, I'd hold Ella's hand.

Only Ella kept screaming "NO HANDS." (Though when she says it, it sounds like "NO ANDZZ.") And she threw herself on the ground many, many times.

I kind of took it personally, like, really? You'd rather cover yourself in dirt and rocks and snot than hold my hand for just one minute?

Yes. The answer is yes.

All these people looked at Ella, then looked at me and more than one hiker asked if I needed help.

Help?

Help is why we're in this situation in the first place. If you can figure out how to get my almost 18-month-old to accept your help, then by all means, help!

Finally, I had to carry screaming Ella and pull whiney Marina down the rest of the way and let me tell you, hikers may be nice and all, but they aren't too good with noise.

So. Many. Evil. Eyes.

We got to the bottom and as soon as they saw the water fountain, it was like nothing ever happened.

"That was fun!" Marina said.

And looking back at it, yes, it really was fun.

Saturday in the park with Ella

(Yes, those are Crocs. But for the record, I did not buy them.)

We're okay

I just wanted to say that yesterday my company laid off almost 200 people. Both Matt and I still have jobs and I appreciate everyone who reached out to make sure we were all right.

The thing is, my department got hit pretty bad. The man who promoted me, the man who helped shaped my writing and my boss were all laid off. So were some very good friends.

Everyone says I should get out of the industry, but the truth is I still love newspapers.

When I went to see Titanic, I always figured I'd be like Kate and Leo and get the hell off the doomed boat. Who knew I'd actually be more like those musicians who stayed and played until the very end.

I only hope that the bottom is still a long way away.

Just your typical Wednesday afternoon

(Grass skirts courtesy of Mima, who, mind you, refused to let me get a job at Hot Dog on a Stick, which, by the way, is where all the cool girls worked, because she had a problem with the uniforms.)