Little Indians

Of course, I barely finish noting the previous item, and then both Monkeys are running around whooping like Indians.

Little Mother

We were with friends this morning, children aged the same as Monkey1 and Monkey2 plus a younger sibling who is still nursing.... so I guess it's no surprise that I just saw Monkey1 playing mommy, breastfeeding her little sister and then urging her to crawl.

Next Generation Seeger Fan

WFUV is playing a lot of Pete Seeger because of his 90th birthday.... Monkey2 simply can't sit still and eat breakfast but must dance.

Fishing

Dad came home early and took us fishing. Since there was only one fishing rod, he fished and the Monkeys sloshed around in the water. Another fisherman gave them a worm, which Monkey2 brought home as a pet. They also made friends with three boys who had a fish in a bucket.

Knocking

When we left for the playground this morning, the police were again knocking on the door the next house over. One knocking, in uniform no body armor visible, one watching, in body armor, and one plains clothes rattling the backyard gate.

Morning Chores

Vacuumed the upstairs and put Monkey1's bed back together, so her mattress is off the floor again.

As usual, mom and dad's room got the end-of-vacuuming quick treatment. Are dust bunnies on the bare floor less toxic than those ground into the carpet?

Screams and Snores

An hour after I went to bed, Monkey2 was screaming. Dad took care of it for awhile, then gave up. He said whatever he did didn't seem to help. Sometimes she seemed sharply awake, then moments later obviously snoring. She thrashed about a lot. She didn't seem to want me to hold her hand, but she screamed and cried if I left the room. REALLY loudly. I'm surprised Monkey1 didn't wake up.

After observing Monkey2 for awhile, I noticed that she had a tendency to scoot up her mattress towards the wall, run into it with her head, and then swing her torso and feet 90 degrees and align herself against the wall. However there wasn't enough room for her body to move this way. Shortly before bedtime both mattresses were moved, putting Monkey2 into a corner. Bounded by the wall on two sides and Monkey1's mattress on another, she probably felt trapped. So I yanked Monkey1's mattress over, and she still slept, and I moved Monkey2's mattress away from the wall, finding her stuffed dog in the process. I gave it to her. "Thank you Mama," she said, snuggling it into a choke hold, and then she started snoring again.

I can't remember Monkey1 doing this sort of thing, but when she was this age, I was busy with an infant Monkey2 at night, so Dad did any night duty with her.

Dr. Who & Totoro

Monkey1 was talking about visiting the Kusakabe family (of "My Neighbor Totoro") again today. I think this will be harder to explain than why we won't meet Muzzy (of the language series) if we go to Germany. At least Muzzy has a spaceship and can fly off.

However, her comments reminded me of a drowsing awake-asleep blur of a story from last night...

On vacation in England, to escape same calamity, the Monkeys and I duck into a blue police call box. The Tardis, of course. The inside being bigger than the outside doesn't faze me, and I give the Doctor a little grief when he introduces himself. "Doctor of what?" I ask.

"Oh this and that, you know," he says with his usual evasive shrug.

"An honorary doctorate?" I retort.

However, we can't exit the box for the moment, and keeping the Monkeys from pressing buttons inside the Tardis is any mother's nightmare. "Don't you have a library in here?" I shout at the Doctor, "with picture books?"

The Monkeys want Totoro, and the Doctor opens the door of the Tardis to the animated world of "My Neighbor Totoro." My Monkeys have a lovely adventure complete with soot sprites and the catbus before we are returned peacefully to our home in the United States. Monkey2 asleep on my shoulder and Monkey1 unsteadily leaning against me as we stand on the sidewalk in front of our house, I thank the Doctor and tell him he has the makings of a good uncle or godfather, Herr Drosselmeyer style.

Chopsticks

At lunch Monkey1 was excited to get a couple bites of rice with her chopsticks. "I'm learning them! I'm learning them!"

Sleepless Wanderer

Monkey2 did the up in the middle of the night thing again.

I wonder... she had two afternoons in a row with a nap, and then a no nap day. Is she confused again? She went to sleep just fine in the evening, but then does her body think that was supposed to be a short sleep, akin to a nap, and then she should be up again?

Toys... are they for me, or the Monkeys?

I just discovered my next favorite toy maker... Haba toys. Melissa and Doug, watch out!

No Hands!

Monkey2 discovered suction: she can hold a cup over her mouth and chin by sucking in her breath. Fortunately it was an empty cup.

2 & 4

Monkey2 has two pony tails. Monkey1 has four braids.

Cold Cereal & Hot Bread

So we succumed to cold cereal this morning. The Monkeys will be hungry again in five minutes, but I'm back to making the usual Tuesday banana bread.

Weekly Books

Went to the library this morning, turning in twenty books (17 picture books, 2 graphic novels, and 1 Tiara Club series book). We chose another twenty. That's what fits in my canvas grocery bag. Library card limit is 50 items checked out at a time.

We met someone we knew, who came away with two books. Two books! Two! Is this frugality or stinginess? Do people really not read? Or do they just not know what to read?

I pick a shelf and start reading titles and pulling books out. The Monkeys do so as well, and I'm teaching them to put the books we don't take home back in the "purple cart", the place for books that need to be re-shelved. Monkey1 likes girly things: pink, princesses, ballerinas, dolls, fairy tales, pirates, and graphic novels. Monkey2 likes: animals, especially chickens. Each week I try to get one book about going to school, because Monkey1 will be starting in the fall and is mostly in denial ("I'm too little," "I want to stay home with Mommy" etc). Plus I look for nice pictures or stories that don't necessarily fit into any of the preferred categories so we get a variety. Just like food -- although Monkey2 would prefer to eat goldfish crackers all day, I make sure she eats other things too.

Before each library visit we pick the favorites to put on our summer books-read list. At the library we are given a sticker for each book, which goes on their reading chart, and after 40 books there will be a prize. The librarian's instructions to write down one book per day on the list must mean there are other families like ours. Another week and a half, and we'll meet the goal and keep going. Keep reading. Forever and ever amen.

My Legs are Rubber Now

Family four on bikes went down the Mount Vernon Trail. Around the sign indicating 3.5 miles to the estate, I refused to go any further. We found a grassy spot in the shade, ate our sandwiches, and headed back north. Another day we'll make it the whole way.

The Monkeys picked cattails when we crossed a marshy area.

El Legado

There's one dance that just mesmerizes me... I'm supposed to be checking the audio levels, but it's really hard to keep my eyes on the audio meters because my eyes are just magnetically pulled over to the video.

Twirling

On a break from editing...

The dancing is good.

However, one number is a group of children, under eight years old I believe, mostly twirling. At certain points they are supposed to switch direction, but some get the cue and some don't, and soon the neat line of couples is twirling, some clockwise and some counterclockwise, and changing direction unevenly -- in time with the music but not with each other. The childish mistake is so apparent that I just laughed aloud and giggled for the rest of it.

Children of Earth

This was written on breaks from editing.

Last night my husband and I watched the last episode of Torchwood: Children of Earth, a five-night miniseries concluding the latest season of a Doctor Who spinoff.

I couldn't sleep afterwards. TV is too stimulating for me right before bed. But more than that, the moral dilemma of the show haunted me. Is still bothering me.

In summary: An alien comes to Earth in 1965, demands, and is given twelve children. The children are orphans, and the whole thing is kept hushed up until the present, when the alien comes back and demands 10% of all the children on Earth, or the whole planet will die. The military leaders from around the world, gathered at the Prime Minister of England's office, say this is not a battle they can win, so the politicians must decide how to select and deliver the 10%. They settle on the underachievers, those who won't amount to anything, emptying whole schools in poorer neighborhoods onto buses and driving them away.

So, 10% of children die instead of 100% of children and adults. Good deal, right? I sure know I wouldn't want to have been at that meeting! The numbers seem, well, fair... the good/survival of the many over the misfortune/demise of a few... except if your children are the ones that must die.

Meanwhile, Captain Jack Harkness and his Torchwood team struggle to thwart both the government and the alien. Plenty of gadgets and excitement.

At the end Captain Jack must decide between a specific child and the 10%.

...

The looks that the mother of that specific child gave Captain Jack sent my mind chasing to another trade, one life for many, two millennia ago... what did Mary think, standing at the foot of the cross where Jesus was dying? How much did she know, or understand, about his death -- her only son's death -- that day? Was she angry at God? Or did she simply say, "Thy will be done" as she had when the Angel came and told her she was pregnant?

Weighing lives against each other, balancing, trading, the questions that arise brought back memories of college Philosophy credits... and made me really glad I am not God.

Screen in the Doorway

Monkey2 is fascinated by the magnetic closure to the newly installed bug screen over the back door.

police again

Duke Street closed, South Early to South Gordon.

Glue Remembered & Teapot Found

A day later, Monkey2 remembers she wants to glue.

Monkey1 found a teapot that's been missing since ... since... whenever she put it in her Thomas backpack.

Peace for the Moment

Half hour from driveway to grocery store to driveway. Is that a record? We only had to get sliced bread.

Monkey2 is practicing with scissors at the writing desk. I'm collecting her little snips into a bowl.

Monkey1 is playing Slap Hearts again, third time this morning I think.

Slap Hearts

We read a story that had a reference to the game "Go Fish." Monkey1 wanted to know what this was. So after finding a pack of cards, I helped her play one game. She was much more interested in all the heart cards than matching letters (we just played with the face cards). So then I changed Slap Jack to Slap Hearts, which was a big success.

Neighbor's Visitors

Unloading the Monkeys after a morning at the playground, noticed two police officers knocking on a door the next house over. Or rather, one was knocking, and the other was standing on the sidewalk watching the upper floor windows. Their car was unmarked, but they had their body armor on and their sticks in their hands.

Monkey1 plastered herself to the inside of our storm door to watch them. Apparently they left without incident.

Scissors, glue, jello wins

After a full five minute tantrum because I said "No" about scissors to Monkey2, she wanted to talk to dad on the phone.

All she could do was whimper and make ragged-teary-sighs. So I had to explain.

"Oh... you don't want scissors," said dad, "you want to play with glue..."

Monkey2 half-heartedly agreed. Once off the phone, she started digging in my cupboards and found we have blue jello in a box. "We make this!"

ABCs

Alphabet beads... everywhere....

Monkey1 made me a bracelet MMAA (heart bead) (her name) FROM. Then she made a necklace with Monkey2's name. [I helped with spelling, but she found and strung all the letters.]

Meanwhile, Monkey2 was carefully pouring beans from one small container to another, and then in stretching across the table for more beads, put her elbow in the containers... spilling them ....

Flour

"Where does my mom keep the flour?" My sister-in-law was on the phone, visiting her father while her mother was off traveling, and wanting a key ingredient for breakfast.

I let my mind rummage through the familiar over-stuffed cupboards and drawers, where the onions are under the neatly folded plastic grocery store bags, the cheese grater is with the extra kitchen towels, and the marshmallows are on top of the macaroni. Behind the waffle iron? Next to the crackers and vitamins? No... I thought of the refrigerator, where one crisper drawer is full of beer and the other full of chocolate, where there are 15 different kinds of mustard but probably no ketchup.

"The freezer," I said.

"Really?"

"Really."

I could hear rummaging.

"No..."

"It'll be a bag about 1/4 full, rolled up small..."

"Found it!"

For an early morning emergency, that wasn't bad.

Snow Storm

The ENTIRE container of Ikea iron-melt beads, all over the floor.

"What were you thinking?" I pleaded with Monkey1.

"The voice in my head said it would be like snow," she answered.

"That was not the voice to listen to," I sighed. "So was it like snow?"

"No. Snow is only white."

NYC Traffic

It's so nice to listen to WFUV in the morning, hearing the familiar patterns and problems of New York traffic, ... and be hours away from that!

Rosary & Renew

We arrived at Rosary a bit early, that is, before 10, and unlocked the house and brought some toys out into the yard. The girls played, but Monkey1 kept asking, "Are my friend here yet?"

We waited, and waited, and waited. The Monkeys were enjoying the toys they only see once a week, and usually have to share with other children, but it was disappointing. Monkey1 had brought several princess dress-up costumes. I was hungry for some adult interaction, and I started feeling very sorry for myself.

I determined that if no one came by 10:30 we'd go find something else to do. In the meantime, I'd pray. I said one decade of the rosary. Then another. Then another. On the fourth I think I lost count and said twice as many Hail Marys. And another decade. Then I felt better. What the priest said on Sunday is true. We need to pray just like we need to eat, drink, and rest.

We started to move some of the toys back into the house, and someone came, and then and someone else. Another girl Monkey1's age, and they played princess. Two boys within six months of Monkey2's age, and they all played kitchen and chase. And the moms sat and talked about vaccines, single-sex schools, boys' 'kill' playing, second-hand stores, how nap time works, ... Maybe I should have asked those moms to pray with me too.

Putting away the toys and heading home was so much nicer. We weren't disappointed and defeated; we were filled up, happy, and the Monkeys had lollypops from the office for the return of the Rosary house key.

A Change

Tuesday means banana bread.

I'm bored with banana bread; granola bars in the oven.

Up & At 'Em

When my Monkeys wake up late, they wake with a roar. Within five minutes there had been two fights over babydolls and Monkey2 wanted to eat jello for breakfast.

Shopping's a Breeze

Just finished the weekly grocery shopping, alone, at home, from my computer, the Monkeys still asleep. At noon we'll swing by the store on the way back from the playground, and the bags of food will be put in our trunk.

This is Technical

I've been editing all afternoon; dad took the Monkeys out of the house.

Recently I did a two-camera shoot of a dance academy's end-of-year performance of dance and music, including a soloist from overseas. I ran two cameras. I ran two cameras. I had them set up side-by-side on tripods, one mostly on a wide shot, taking in the full stage, and one that I zoomed for closer shots. The academy director wanted the feet always visible, so the usual concept of a close-up shot was too tight. Of course, the wide shot ended up being too wide, so I was tweaking it for many of the pieces, so I really was shooting with two cameras. And changing tapes. And keeping an eye on the audio level. And switching back and forth between auto and manual focus. All the usual, times two.

However, at home with eight tapes of footage and my edit system, life just got easier. Unlike the Media 100 upon which I learned digital editing, my current system lets me switch between feeds of video. I can sync up the tapes and view them simultaneously, choosing the best shot as I watch, and change audio feeds too. In fact, I could sync up and edit a 16-camera shoot. (Whoa... but seriously, if you're going to have sixteen cameras going, why not just get a switcher and switch it live?) And because it's all digital, I can change my mind and tweak the edit or change the shot as many times as I want before I run off the masters and hand them over to the dance academy.

Saturday Night at the Park

Yesterday evening after supper, teeth brushing, bath splash, and putting pajamas on, we took the Monkeys for a Pajama Walk.

"Why are the clouds pink?" asked Monkey1.

"It's sunset," I answered, and then realized she had probably never seen a sunset. If I have any say, she's usually in bed by this time. Of course she's been up late or later, but probably busy chasing cousins at family gatherings or in the car drowsing down to sleep. We've never been for a walk at sunset, on a warm night with lots of clouds to watch change colors.

However the purpose of our walk was at one of the city soccer fields, a movie screen. People had spread out their blankets, chairs, strollers, and edibles, and the kids ran around until it was dark enough for the movie to start.

"Why is it dark?" asked Monkey1, looking at the sky.

"Because it's night time," said Dad.

"But when will it be daytime?" she asked.

"Tomorrow morning," he answered.

She was trying to figure out the novelty of being up late, in the lit dark of a city park.

However, once the movie started both Monkeys were all screams and shrieks and laughter and jumping and eating cookies and wrapping up in blankets and throwing them off again. The animated "King Fu Panda" outside was a nice way to enjoy the big screen without the black movie theater, too-loud sound, and sit-still-be-quiet expectations.

Rolling the stroller home in the city twilight of street lamps, we had one headlight erratically pointing the way as Monkey1 enjoyed the privilege of using mommy's flashlight. I used her dinosaur-shaped one that lights, roars, and turns itself off. Monkey2 had her oinking pig flashlight, but was too tired to use it.

This morning there were requests for another Pajama Walk. Maybe we should look for a good sunset night instead of a movie.

The Real Title

The Master's Paper is done. My husband showed me this morning how it looked -- the page numbers and formatting were giving him a very hard time last night when I put my sleep mask on -- in .pdf with links and navigation among the sections. Almost 400 pages.

So after the paper's review, he'll be... a Master Doctor? Doctor Master? I'm not sure there'll be a paper on the wall or more letters after his name, but it will make a difference in the workload/pay ratio.

("I already have the title," he says, reading over my shoulder. "Dad.")

still the sleepless wanderer

Monkey2 did her 1 a.m. to 4:30 a.m. scampering again.

Unquiet Time

Howl, howl, howl... quiet time is not quiet, semi-quiet, or even a low key rumble today.

Monkey2 has no fever, but is generally upsetable.

Monkey1 knows how to push her buttons.

Why I love Wiygul

So when the repair shop brought my car back to me, the driver noted that my 12 volt power outlet had had a penny stuck into it (he had wanted to plug in his GPS...), which he had removed but then found the fuse was blown. So he looked up in the car manual what fuse I'd need (blue) and where to put it in (forward panel passenger side, accessible when the door is open).

I love it when my car guys take care of me.

When the Medicine is Worse than...

Monkey2's temperature spiked up, so we opted to give her a fever reducer medicine. That was so torturous that I really hope she feels better tomorrow because I don't think she'll open her mouth for me ever again.

I think I felt the same way after a month of different meds when she had thrush at 8 months old.

Tired and Tired of

Monkey2 is on her second nap, and Monkey1 is tired of being at home.

Car's fixed, but the shop hasn't figured out how to reunite me with it since I have the car seats.

Hot

Monkey2 has a fever of 102.7.

[We use a forehead scanner thermometer. Normal for a two-year-old is 100.3.]

Breakfast Butter

I placed a wrapped stick of butter on the table and got distracted before returning with a butter dish. In the meantime, Monkey2 neatly peeled off the paper and placed the butter stick exactly in the center of her plate. Dad intervened before she decided whether to hack at it with a knife or simply pick it up and eat it.

Asleep and Kicking

According to the other grown-up in the king bed, Monkey2 wasn't awake from 3:30 to 6 a.m., when she removed herself back to her own bed, she was asleep and kicking us.

Five Minute Reading

I'm not sure how "Five Minute Reading" started in our house, but it has become an integral part of the evening wind-down. After teeth brushing, a bath or vigorous face, hands, and feet washing, several picture books read aloud, the four-year-old and two-year-old have a few more minutes with the lights on to look at books.

I can take the time to be somewhat noisy folding laundry, rattling hangers, and opening and shutting drawers and closets. The younger one especially is a talker and has a tendency to talk and sing herself to sleep, which the older one finds exasperating. Somehow this Five Minute Reading time has lessened the jabbering.

Then we say prayers, turn on the night light, turn off bright lamp or close the curtains, and I turn on the former crib music box now sitting on the bookcase, and the girls squeeze their eyes shut. Their mattresses are side-by-side on the floor. The older one cuddles under her blanket and sucks her fingers while the younger one has a strangling hug around five stuffed animals.

Good night Monkeys. So sweet.

Now Mom has work to do.

Hopping

After reading "The Red Chalk" we drew a giant hopscotch board in the driveway. It has as many squares as I have years.

Bottomless Jug

Seriously, how does a half-full jug of salsa hit the floor, sending a spray of tomato and pepper chunks across six feet of kitchen and six feet into the next room (I measured!), and still remain half-full?

Bad News & Good News

Monkey1 has a fever of 102.5.

Car's hatch latch was actually broken, and it can be fixed for much much much less than a thousand.

[We use a forehead scanner thermometer. Normal for a four-year-old is 100.1.]

No Escape Hatch

The rear hatch of our car will not open, and has not opened for nearly a week. This afternoon I could foresee no big need for the car for the next few days, so I took it over to the repair shop. Sure enough, it could not be fixed in five minutes (one can always hope!). The shop drove us home, and I removed the carseats so the mechanics can crawl into the hatchback from the main compartment, remove the plastic panel, and see the latching mechanisms of the hatch/trunk door. And the dollar signs are zipping by....

Not Today

And Monkey2 asked for diapers back, choosing a hot pink one to match her dress.

Today's Experiment

Big sister helped little sister get dressed today, removing Monkey2's diaper and putting her in underwear. "I explained to her all about wearing underpants," she said, "that you have to use the potty."

"Good luck today," chuckled dad, on his way out the door, as I set the timer for ten-minute intervals and rolled up the living room rug.

Jumping for Joy

Monkey2 is both-feet-off-the-ground jumping, happy at the return of her kitty, who stayed on vacation a few days longer than us and came back home in today's mail.

Front Seat Full

Accomplished. Fortunately I no longer buy those huge diaper boxes.

Trunkless

Today's Quest: monthly BJ's shopping with a car whose trunk will not open.

Sleepless Wanderer

For the third time in a week, Monkey2 has been up 12midnight (more or less) until 4 a.m.... Last Monday into Tuesday, last Thursday into Friday, and now Saturday into Sunday. She runs back and forth between her bed and our bed, spending some time thrashing about in both places. Last night I removed myself to the futon in the basement so I could get some sleep.

I wonder if by giving up the afternoon nap, now she's confused herself. She'll go to sleep just fine, but then is up once she's rested a few hours, just as our former schedule used to flow: naptime, some playtime, and then bedtime.

Or is she hot, cold, thirsty, hungry, too tired, not tired enough, has a wet diaper, bothered by the full moon, suffering from jet lag from a week's vacation in the same time zone, .... Oh, the mysterious life of a two-year-old.

Bicycles Built for Two

Saturday was:

Laundry.

Grocery Store, to buy lemons in order to make ribs in the crockpot (recipe from A Year of Slow Cooking) for supper. Monkey1 wanted one of every other kind of fruit in the produce section. She refused to admit hunger when we returned home.

Home Hardware Nightmare, to buy knobs for a dresser. Made it out of the store with knobs, plus six dozen paint sample cards for the Monkeys to play with.

Attempt at lunch.

Attempt at Quiet Time. Monkey2 has not taken an afternoon nap in over a week, so mostly I kept reminding the two Monkeys they need to stay in the Pink Room or the Grey Room, and out of my bedroom.

Outdoor Store, to buy a new bike helmet for Dad. Monkey1 cried when a store employee reprimanded her for trying out a bike with training wheels. Monkey2 cried when she bellyflopped on the carpet while chasing Monkey1. Mom cried in relief when everyone was strapped back into the car.

Supper finished, the ribs were good but I'll use less salt next time, and we started off on the promised bike ride... in the rain. Monkey1 rides on a tag-along-bike, so a third wheel with seat, handle bars, and pedals that attaches on the back of Dad's bike. She screams with delight, especially in tunnels. Monkey2 rides in a kid seat attached behind my bicycle seat, so she mostly tickles me and sings songs. We were singing the alphabet song yesterday. The Monkeys didn't care about the rain. It didn't last very long; I think it was raining hardest when we left.

We didn't go anywhere special this time -- other times we've gone to National Airport, over the Wilson Bridge, or to a Ben & Jerry's Scoop Shop -- just an hour ride, which included a stop at a playground. Everyone was pretty muddy, which is a good way to end the day.

postcards from FB

So I started a blog to try... to write more?

When has a computer HELPED me write more? Certainly not after I purchased my first computer, two years out of college, and discovered the Internet. I started playing with the then-free Yahoo! personals, and now I'm married to a fellow I "met" there.

I don't even remember really why I started, though I quickly ran into the Time problem, the perplexing issue of privacy, and what to write and what not to write. I was astonished by the frankness of some of my friends. Having no curtains on your windows can make the neighbors gawk or cover their eyes. Some blogs are like that. I salute cathartic writing; I have filled enough journals to have realized long agothat writing things out is good for my sanity, but online, for anyone to see? One blogger I knew decided to hide her site away from some family members (we're talking call-the-police-interfering) by relocating and changing all the names in her past posts, while another acquaintance removed all pictures of her children. There was no way I could truly journal for the public eye, so what else would I write?

Then came Facebook. Someone invited me, and someone else talked to me about it, and I decided to give it a try. It was fun. It was addictive. The status updates were just a line or two, a postcard, from me to my FB friends.

Why would I call someone and say, "Monkey1 just drew her first picture of a person with fingers and gave it to the A/C estimate guy" or "Monkey2 cried for five minutes because I refused to let her crack an egg" and hang up? I needed to share these things, the tough things because they needed to be said and be done with, to be put out of my mind, and the happy things because I'd forget them otherwise. I couldn't dial the phone without the Monkeys climbing up my legs, but they'd let me type a sentence as I ran by the computer.

I found FB a really useful tool during the winter stay-at-home-sick days -- with two preschoolers and myself, always one of us was sick for a long spell -- a way I could document the crazy goings on. Share them. That was the key, sharing that Monkey1 dumped water over Monkey2's head and blamed it on a green monster, that I tried to make yogurt in the crockpot and it tasted good but looked like white soup, that Monkey2 tried to eat a stick of butter for breakfast, that Monkey1 could wink with either eye, that I didn't know what to make for supper, etc. etc.

However, as more friends were added to my roster, the more clutter there was! Some folks took quiz after quiz after quiz and FB dutifully noted the results. News hounds posted article after article of interest. Pictures were posted. Comments added. It became a chore to sort through who and what. Just as some days I updated my status dozens of times, some other folks did too, which added up to a lot of chatter. It was information overload. And I didn't want to miss any of it -- suppose someone announced she was pregnant? or wanted a playdate? or misplaced their favorite coffee cup?

But, the really really important people were not on FB. They were missing it all. They were the ones who really needed to know that "T is for Toddler in Thomas the Train pajamas calling herself Thumbelina", and or "paper mache is too messy to be fun" and five minutes later "smashing croutons with a meat tenderizer is tons of fun."

I joined on Inauguration Day, and now I've been off FB for nearly two weeks, with eight days of that due to vacation and no internet. I'm wondering if I'll even bother to go back. After all, postcards from the blog work too. Or just old fashioned email.