Books and Authors

Last year at this time I was puking with pregnancy. This year, baby now outside me, we all went to the National Book Festival.

First, Happy 50th Birthday to Clifford!

Then somehow I got separated from the good camera and had to resort to my cell phone camera when Monkey2 met with some favorite PBS characters.

 

Ugh. Not good quality.


While I was doing that, Monkey1 was sitting on Dad's shoulders to listen to singer-songwriter and now children's author Jewel talk about writing. Then we waited for the tent to clear out so we could sit down and listen to Mary Pope Osborne, author of the Magic Tree House series, speak. The tent did not clear out. We stood under the edge of the tent, the Monkeys on our shoulders (and in my case, one wrapped to my front too) to listen to her. Half-way through I ducked out to nurse Monkey3. Monkey2 stood forlornly on Dad's foot until I came back.

Then we stood in line to have Jewel sign her children's book That's What I'd Do. While waiting, a three-person camera crew came along asking if anyone wanted to talk about how they liked the Book Festival.

"Does it have to be positive?" asked the guy ahead of me. He was grumpy because Jewel's book had sold out and he was reduced to having her sign the festival program booklet. However, I spoke to them, although the audio person had a conniption over Monkey3 grabbing for the microphone; it made a terrible crackling noise. Move the mic. Restart the sentence. Somewhere on the Library of Congress website about the National Book Festival, I might be in a video clip.

A post-it note inside our book clued Jewel as to how she should inscribe it. She greeted us pleasantly as she squinted at the note, "You have three names?"
"I have three daughters," I answered,

tapping them lightly on their heads as I reeled off their names.
"How silly of me," she said, really looking and seeing us for the first time, "You're all right here!"

After she signed our book, Monkey1 had a question for her. "Where is your little boy?" (Jewel is the mother of a one-year-old.)
Amused, she said he was at home with his daddy, and she really missed him, but would see him again tomorrow night.

Then we joined the line for Mary Pope Osborne, Monkey1 clutching her favorite book, Ghost Town at Sundown. We joined line #10. Ten lines of people hoping to meet her and have her sign a book! And the lines kept forming, one festival volunteer occasionally shouting "Straight line! Make a straight line!" as she moved along with her "End of line" sign.
Eventually we were told that Mary Pope Osborne was not going to sign the books; she had a rubber stamp. We conferred on this, but decided to still wait. Then worse news: the lines exceeding the allotted signing time, festival volunteers had been dispatched with more copies of Mary Pope Osborne's rubber stamp signature. Monkey1 agreed this was not worth waiting for, so we ditched the line for the children's activity tent.

Someone was singing with his guitar, and Monkey1 put herself right up next to the stage, leaned on it on her elbows, and opened a book.
"If she's going to read, we can go home!" I told my husband.
So instructed, she closed her book. And here she is, responding to the singer's query: Give me a character.
"Harry Potter!"

Note: The sign behind the singer says "PBS Kids: Raising Readers." We have at least one in the house.

Moving Along

Yesterday evening Monkey3 sat up on her own.

This morning while I was giving her a bath in the kitchen sink, she leveraged herself to standing using the kitchen counter.

And my life changes again.

Too Big for the Baby Hat

Monkey3 is six months old.

Last night I finished her infant hat. Not that she needed one. Despite the "to keep them warm" myth, infants do not really need a hat indoors; hospitals started the hat thing to cover up the funny shaped heads that resulted from forceps deliveries. Or, as Monkeys1&2 learned from their hospital-sponsored sibling preparation class, to color code the babies in the nursery according to who has had their first bath.

However, I had a really cute, really simple, hat pattern, and I think my original idea was to make three different sizes and line up all my Monkeys in their hats for a picture. I only cut out the infant-size pieces -- in green because we were dealing with the week of St. Patrick's Day -- and did not get it sewn up before she was born. Last night, in a little pre-Halloween fit of must-clear-off-my-sewing-machine-before-the-costume-projects-start, I finished off the hat, and even added a cute flower.

Of course it does not fit. It perches on top of Monkey3's head in a ridiculous fashion. Because despite the pediatrician's fussing, Monkey3 is growing. While she seems to have stabilized on the 15th percentile growth curve for weight, she's lengthening like flames leaping up a building, and her head must be growing normally since no one has bothered mentioning that. 

(Soft focus because she just won't still for pictures!)

Sweeping up the Crumbs

"I could sweep the floor, or I could put down the Baby Roomba which comes with an intermittent pre-mop function."

No sooner had I said this, my broom disappeared. Completely vanished! How many places can a broom with a five-foot handle hide? Obviously I had gotten distracted from my intended task, stood it in a corner, and walked off without it. However, I checked every room, every corner, every corner created by furniture and walls, and set Monkeys1&2 on the case with the promise of marshmallows added to the top of their ice cream if they found my broom, and still it remained undiscovered. After four days, which included a weekend, when more dirt gets tracked in than on school days, I gave up and bought a new broom. Of course that evening my husband found the old broom, outside, comfortably leaning against the side of the house near the construction area. I suppose the builders borrowed it. 

Meanwhile, Baby Roomba is crawling/bellyflopping around with an increasing range.  Maybe that should be her Halloween costume, a round shape decorated to look like the robotic vacuum cleaner. Of course, Monkeys1 is still lobbying for a Screaming Mandrake, and next year (when Monkey3 is walking) Dobby the House Elf. If I don't lose them again, my little Quidditch player can have a choice of brooms.

Back to School Night

I got to go to Back-to-School Night! Yes, this is a big deal to me because while this is the third year I am a grade school parent, and this is the first year I was able to attend. Monkey1's kindergarten year, she was not in the school until six weeks into the school year, so I missed it. Her first grade year I was pregnant and puking, so I missed it. So this year, I just took Monkey3 with me and Dad put the other two to bed. 

Monkey3 is a party girl. She made eyes at all the dads, to the great amusement of all the moms. She hopped and bopped even though she was wrapped in a front carry. In the kindergarten classroom she reached for the artwork dangling from the ceiling and added her two cents when the teacher was nearly done her presentation. In the second grade classroom I sat down in the rocking chair in the book corner, but instead of calming her down, this gave her a whole new set of things to look at. The teacher's aide kept looking and not looking at Monkey3, finally saying, "That's it! She's too cute! I'm going to tell my husband tonight...!"

I left notes for both Monkey1&2 on their desks, which will be satisfying proof to them that I did my part and sat at their little desks last night. 

Crumbs from the Mommy Brain

Today is the first full day of school for Monkeys1&2. They started last week, plaid jumpers and new backpacks. Monkey1 was so proud of her wheelie bag (specifically stated in the school handbook as not allowed for kindergarten and first grade), though I fail to see the advantage of wheels since second graders have to climb a flight of stairs to get to their classroom. She thinks she's so cool. 

Monkey2 actually has Monkey1's former pack, but like all good 'Bean bags, it looks new even after two years, so we chose some cute appliqués off Etsy, making the bag new for her and different from all the other pink packs hanging in the kindergarten coat closet. She loves it without suffering hand-me down shame.

About a week before school started, we took a walk to the library. Monkey2 wanted to bike, so I told her she needed to wear something over her knees, thinking she would put on a pair of jeans. Instead she put tights under her shorts: red Christmas tights with a Scottie dog silhouette on the ankle, under her purple tie-dye shorts.

I thought, "My days are going to be a little less colorful when she goes to school." 

Not to worry. After school one day she put on a ballet leotard and tutu plus knee-highs with fluorescent rainbow stripes. Plus she chooses the outfits for Monkey3. One day it was a flowered shirt, butterfly skirt, and ice cream cone printed pants. 

August did not seem as blisteringly hot this year. Perhaps that is because we spent more time at the pool. Monkey1 came up with a way to get in some Quidditch practice in the water, using a pool noodle instead of a broomstick. Monkey2 gained in dog paddle distance, being able to swim across three lane lines by the end of the summer. Monkey3 simply hung out in the water wrap, often snoozing despite the general rowdiness going on around her. And I got a tan line, from the wrap criss-crossing my back and not my bathsuit shoulder straps, but a tan line none the less. 

And now 1&2 are at school, car line drop off at 8 a.m., and it was just me and Monkey3... and the intermittent noise of power tools as our screen porch started going up today. I don't know how this is possible considering the water in the bottom of the holes for the footings, but there seems to be a lot going on out in my driveway -- where the lumber was dumped -- and in the back yard. I keep peeking out the windows. I don't want to appear meddlesome, but I love seeing structures grow. I'll have a better chance to observe when the Monkeys get home from school; I suspect they will camp out on the outside kitchen door landing, safely out of the way but with a view of half the yard, with their snack.

I think I have a half hour left of my quieter day. Monkey3 is sleeping on my back, ear planted to hear my heartbeat more than the power tools, and I guess I'd better deal with the breakfast dishes.