11-22-11.
Good-bye at 113,576 miles:
Hello at 4 miles:
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Angelic Monkeys
The Monkeys are old enough to participate in our parish Nativity reenactment.
At the informational meeting, the children "drew straws" for parts. The Religious Education director has been doing this awhile, so the straws are actually lollipops, which helps sweeten the blow of not getting a speaking part, of which there are about a dozen. Monkey1 drew an Angel part, the one who tells Joseph not to be afraid and to take Mary as his wife. Monkey2 will be in the choir of angels around the stable, along with several of her friends.
The first practice was yesterday, and while Monkey1 was shy walking in, holding my hand and almost walking behind me, once she had her assigned spot, she was interested, attentive, and bold in repeating her two or three sentences into the microphone. Monkey2 stuck with all the other little angels, giggling at the wanderings in and out of a two-year-old she knows well, friends' younger sibling who will be at home in bed the night of the Christmas program.
After three run-throughs, the box of costumes came out. All the angels received plastic headbands with antennas holding up silver garland halos. My Monkeys loved them!
As we left the church, the garden club was convening. One elderly lady who daily marvels over my efforts with Monkey2's long blonde tresses, as I wait for the preschool to open, suddenly discovered I had TWO blonde girls. In halos, no less. "Oh you have two angels!" she said.
I just couldn't let that pass. "No, two girls," I replied cheerfully.
Growing Monkeys. As I write this, Monkey2 is jumping off chairs onto a blue blanket, shouting that she is swimming, while Monkey1 is drawing a picture for a book report for school. And Monkey3 is visibly kicking through my belly.
At the informational meeting, the children "drew straws" for parts. The Religious Education director has been doing this awhile, so the straws are actually lollipops, which helps sweeten the blow of not getting a speaking part, of which there are about a dozen. Monkey1 drew an Angel part, the one who tells Joseph not to be afraid and to take Mary as his wife. Monkey2 will be in the choir of angels around the stable, along with several of her friends.
The first practice was yesterday, and while Monkey1 was shy walking in, holding my hand and almost walking behind me, once she had her assigned spot, she was interested, attentive, and bold in repeating her two or three sentences into the microphone. Monkey2 stuck with all the other little angels, giggling at the wanderings in and out of a two-year-old she knows well, friends' younger sibling who will be at home in bed the night of the Christmas program.
After three run-throughs, the box of costumes came out. All the angels received plastic headbands with antennas holding up silver garland halos. My Monkeys loved them!
As we left the church, the garden club was convening. One elderly lady who daily marvels over my efforts with Monkey2's long blonde tresses, as I wait for the preschool to open, suddenly discovered I had TWO blonde girls. In halos, no less. "Oh you have two angels!" she said.
I just couldn't let that pass. "No, two girls," I replied cheerfully.
Growing Monkeys. As I write this, Monkey2 is jumping off chairs onto a blue blanket, shouting that she is swimming, while Monkey1 is drawing a picture for a book report for school. And Monkey3 is visibly kicking through my belly.
Lights
Of course the Golf has to get in a parting shot.
Saturday evening the headlights turned on and then went out. Poof! Both together. Had to use the high beams.
My husband went through the fuse panel very carefully the next day, but there was no blown fuse. Removing the headlight lenses, he discovered that the bulbs had blown. Simultaneously. Really? What are the chances of that?
Saturday evening the headlights turned on and then went out. Poof! Both together. Had to use the high beams.
My husband went through the fuse panel very carefully the next day, but there was no blown fuse. Removing the headlight lenses, he discovered that the bulbs had blown. Simultaneously. Really? What are the chances of that?
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Little Way of Motherhood
The arrival of my high school and college alumni magazines seems to be an exercise in, or test of, the virtue Contentment. Confronted with a forum made for crowing one's achievements and material climb of the worldly ladder, the stay-at-home mom is left to ponder: What have I done?
I changed my month-old baby 225 times in fifteen days. (Yes I really kept track of such things with my first born.)
Or
I kept hundreds of diapers out of a landfill by using cloth diapers with my second toddler.
Or
I spot mopped the floor three times in one day due to various messy leavings on the floor.
Or
I got in and out of Target in twenty minutes accompanied by a four-year-old who would not sit in the cart.
B.C., Before Children, I had a job that earned me a half dozen framed awards and a statuette trophy, and I rose in the ranks of a martial art.
Now, A.D., After Diapers, I have walls with marker doodles and two walking, talking, growing statues that are liable to be tired, hungry, hide behind me, jump on me, wake me up in the middle of the night, or amp up the Cuteness and Charm factor for really important things like the roving ice cream truck or getting out of violin practice.
In the alumni magazines I read:
Someone has published a book.
So-and-so is regional manager of a bank.
Somebody went to Paris for their third wedding anniversary.
Someone else raised funds and built an orphanage, dug a well, wiped out a local pestilence, and will earn their second Ph.D. next month.
Meanwhile, I am listening to "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" for the hundredth-something time in three months with my four and six-year old Monkeys and getting kicked from the inside of my basketball belly by the third Monkey.
And the alumni magazine is in the recycle bin.
I changed my month-old baby 225 times in fifteen days. (Yes I really kept track of such things with my first born.)
Or
I kept hundreds of diapers out of a landfill by using cloth diapers with my second toddler.
Or
I spot mopped the floor three times in one day due to various messy leavings on the floor.
Or
I got in and out of Target in twenty minutes accompanied by a four-year-old who would not sit in the cart.
B.C., Before Children, I had a job that earned me a half dozen framed awards and a statuette trophy, and I rose in the ranks of a martial art.
Now, A.D., After Diapers, I have walls with marker doodles and two walking, talking, growing statues that are liable to be tired, hungry, hide behind me, jump on me, wake me up in the middle of the night, or amp up the Cuteness and Charm factor for really important things like the roving ice cream truck or getting out of violin practice.
In the alumni magazines I read:
Someone has published a book.
So-and-so is regional manager of a bank.
Somebody went to Paris for their third wedding anniversary.
Someone else raised funds and built an orphanage, dug a well, wiped out a local pestilence, and will earn their second Ph.D. next month.
Meanwhile, I am listening to "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" for the hundredth-something time in three months with my four and six-year old Monkeys and getting kicked from the inside of my basketball belly by the third Monkey.
And the alumni magazine is in the recycle bin.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Another Round of Drives
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm on our little Tardis was going off again in the middle of the night. Next morning I learned, via Facebook, that this time it had disturbed my husband enough to complain about it publicly.
Last week we ordered and received the baby carseat, so we were ready to do a serious evaluation of vehicle space and try out the seating configurations of our top two choices, Monkeys in tow.
The dealerships were so different from each other! At one, which I had called ahead to make sure they had a model with the backup camera feature available for test drives, the salesman put on the plates, gave us the key, and said, "Go enjoy your drive." Whereas the other place, the salesman accompanied us on the drive and talked about the vehicle and its features the whole time. I had made clear to both salesmen that I had driven their vehicle before, and displayed familiarity with the available features. This time out was about letting my husband drive and seeing how our family -- and all our car seats -- fit. One salesman could let the vehicle do the talking. One could not.
In Vehicle One, Monkey1 enjoyed the ability to roll her window up and down (in the VW we use the child safety feature that disables the window controls for the backseat), as well as the built-in booster seat.
In Vehicle Two, Monkey2 loved the built in sunshades.
Getting out of Vehicle One, Monkey2 nearly fell because it sits so much higher off the ground.
Exiting Vehicle Two, Monkey1 complained of being car sick.
Both vehicles fit three across in the bench row immediately behind the driver. In Vehicle One this meant one of our enormous backed booster seats, the vehicle's built in booster, and the new baby seat, which starts rear facing and then gets turned around. And by playing with the seat position adjustments, we confirmed that an adult can still fit in the empty seats in the way back. Though truthfully, we'd probably move the Monkeys back there because they are more agile at climbing. Vehicle Two displayed the same capacity, our three big car seats fit easily across the middle, and I settled in the back row. And felt every bump in the road.
Vehicle One is bigger than our Golf, and Vehicle Two is simply palatial. The larger space actually made my husband and I uneasy. We need more leg room for everyone, but we don't want our kids to be on the far reaches of the galaxy. Does that make sense? Is there such a thing as too much space inside an area bounded by four wheels? Doubtless any of my friends with three or four kids would say I am insane, but both my husband and I had the same concern on this issue. (Obviously we are well paired if we both ask, "But is it too big?")
And then there was simply how the vehicles felt as we drove them. Somewhere along my road of twenty-two years behind the wheel I became a tiny bit of a car connoisseur. I've driven quite a variety of vehicles: Ford Aerostar, Toyota Corolla, Honda Accord, Mitsubishi Mirage, VW Passat, VW Jetta, Toyota Matrix, VW Golf, Chevy Malibu, Nissan Altima, Cadillac Escalade, Chevy Suburban, ... some for only five minutes, I'll admit. Some were hard to drive, some easy, some I hated, some I loved. A car is a tool, an oversized gadget, and hopefully one that will last a decade or so.
Time to make our checklist of required features and submit it to the salesman.
And hope our quirky little Golf will find a loving home.
The alarm on our little Tardis was going off again in the middle of the night. Next morning I learned, via Facebook, that this time it had disturbed my husband enough to complain about it publicly.
Last week we ordered and received the baby carseat, so we were ready to do a serious evaluation of vehicle space and try out the seating configurations of our top two choices, Monkeys in tow.
The dealerships were so different from each other! At one, which I had called ahead to make sure they had a model with the backup camera feature available for test drives, the salesman put on the plates, gave us the key, and said, "Go enjoy your drive." Whereas the other place, the salesman accompanied us on the drive and talked about the vehicle and its features the whole time. I had made clear to both salesmen that I had driven their vehicle before, and displayed familiarity with the available features. This time out was about letting my husband drive and seeing how our family -- and all our car seats -- fit. One salesman could let the vehicle do the talking. One could not.
In Vehicle One, Monkey1 enjoyed the ability to roll her window up and down (in the VW we use the child safety feature that disables the window controls for the backseat), as well as the built-in booster seat.
In Vehicle Two, Monkey2 loved the built in sunshades.
Getting out of Vehicle One, Monkey2 nearly fell because it sits so much higher off the ground.
Exiting Vehicle Two, Monkey1 complained of being car sick.
Both vehicles fit three across in the bench row immediately behind the driver. In Vehicle One this meant one of our enormous backed booster seats, the vehicle's built in booster, and the new baby seat, which starts rear facing and then gets turned around. And by playing with the seat position adjustments, we confirmed that an adult can still fit in the empty seats in the way back. Though truthfully, we'd probably move the Monkeys back there because they are more agile at climbing. Vehicle Two displayed the same capacity, our three big car seats fit easily across the middle, and I settled in the back row. And felt every bump in the road.
Vehicle One is bigger than our Golf, and Vehicle Two is simply palatial. The larger space actually made my husband and I uneasy. We need more leg room for everyone, but we don't want our kids to be on the far reaches of the galaxy. Does that make sense? Is there such a thing as too much space inside an area bounded by four wheels? Doubtless any of my friends with three or four kids would say I am insane, but both my husband and I had the same concern on this issue. (Obviously we are well paired if we both ask, "But is it too big?")
And then there was simply how the vehicles felt as we drove them. Somewhere along my road of twenty-two years behind the wheel I became a tiny bit of a car connoisseur. I've driven quite a variety of vehicles: Ford Aerostar, Toyota Corolla, Honda Accord, Mitsubishi Mirage, VW Passat, VW Jetta, Toyota Matrix, VW Golf, Chevy Malibu, Nissan Altima, Cadillac Escalade, Chevy Suburban, ... some for only five minutes, I'll admit. Some were hard to drive, some easy, some I hated, some I loved. A car is a tool, an oversized gadget, and hopefully one that will last a decade or so.
Time to make our checklist of required features and submit it to the salesman.
And hope our quirky little Golf will find a loving home.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Another car story
Monkey2 dropped something on the floor of the car on our way to school, so when we arrived, I got out, yanked my seat forward, and Monkey2 crawled around on the gravel and crumb encrusted floor mat. She found the minute item, and we all went in to school.
Returning to my car, I squeezed myself into the driver seat, managed to grab the under-seat lever for adjusting its distance to the steering wheel, and ... the seat slid smoothly all the way back. ALL the way back, to the end of its track, so the driver's seat was nearly touching the back seat. Puzzled, I slid the seat forward, and then back, ALL the way back again. Usually there are catch spots, or click spots, where the seat stops, so the driver's seat can be adjusted to different distances from the steering wheel and pedals, according to the height and comfort of the driver. What happened? All the catch points were gone!
While my long leggedness meant I could still reach the gas and brake pedals, it meant the passenger directly behind me, Monkey2 in her car seat this case, would have zero leg room! (And no, moving the car seat over to the middle spot is not an option in the Golf -- not with Monkey1's car seat also in the back seat.)
I called my husband.
"Maybe something is stuck on the track," he suggested.
"I can't get down there and look! It'll take me a half hour to get up again!"
He laughed, "No, don't you do it; you're like a turtle."
Hopefully he meant like a turtle flipped over on its back having difficulty getting righted. My basketball belly certainly makes navigating certain positions more challenging.
Of course, by the end of the day, when he sat in the car and slid the seat forward and backward, it acted completely normally, and he was able to get the seat back in the right spot.
Really, little Golf? You're already playing tricks on me with the alarm that goes off for no reason at 2 a.m.
And the self-locking doors once I'm turning the ignition, causing the alarm to go off.
And the rattle in the rear hatch that ominously reminds me of two summers ago when the latch broke and the rear hatch door had to be disassembled from inside the car in order to be fixed.
Please, just hold out a little longer!
Returning to my car, I squeezed myself into the driver seat, managed to grab the under-seat lever for adjusting its distance to the steering wheel, and ... the seat slid smoothly all the way back. ALL the way back, to the end of its track, so the driver's seat was nearly touching the back seat. Puzzled, I slid the seat forward, and then back, ALL the way back again. Usually there are catch spots, or click spots, where the seat stops, so the driver's seat can be adjusted to different distances from the steering wheel and pedals, according to the height and comfort of the driver. What happened? All the catch points were gone!
While my long leggedness meant I could still reach the gas and brake pedals, it meant the passenger directly behind me, Monkey2 in her car seat this case, would have zero leg room! (And no, moving the car seat over to the middle spot is not an option in the Golf -- not with Monkey1's car seat also in the back seat.)
I called my husband.
"Maybe something is stuck on the track," he suggested.
"I can't get down there and look! It'll take me a half hour to get up again!"
He laughed, "No, don't you do it; you're like a turtle."
Hopefully he meant like a turtle flipped over on its back having difficulty getting righted. My basketball belly certainly makes navigating certain positions more challenging.
Of course, by the end of the day, when he sat in the car and slid the seat forward and backward, it acted completely normally, and he was able to get the seat back in the right spot.
Really, little Golf? You're already playing tricks on me with the alarm that goes off for no reason at 2 a.m.
And the self-locking doors once I'm turning the ignition, causing the alarm to go off.
And the rattle in the rear hatch that ominously reminds me of two summers ago when the latch broke and the rear hatch door had to be disassembled from inside the car in order to be fixed.
Please, just hold out a little longer!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
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