My First Post in My Third Decade

Well, I turned 30 this past Sunday and am still mostly in one piece. I guess I thought I might spontaneously decombust or watch, appalled, as various bodyparts just fell off, or -- worse -- that wrinkles (and more gray hairs) would wrestle me to the ground. And win.

Instead I woke up, went to the third day of my yoga workshop, ate lunch, then spent over eight hours either in an airport or plane, and came home @ 10 p.m. to this:

The 10:30 p.m. cake-eating contest. He won.

It's been a busy week, but we have managed to take lots of pictures with our fancy new Camera From Nanny. Click here to see more.

That's mostly it. Leave a comment ... let us know you're here!

A week (or two) in Pictures

Well. I'm turning 30 in 3 days and I'm leaving for Phoenix tomorrow for a Yoga workshop and yet I can't stand not to do my Thursday night thing. Plus, Nanny did the unthinkable and sent me her CANON REBEL and although I so do not know how to use it, I managed to get this one picture, which has more of his body than any of the others I attempted. Clearly, I need to read the manual.

In other, much more important and exciting and happy news, Mamabird has just hatched another one! I was driving today and thinking about whether I should say that she laid another egg or that her egg had hatched or what exactly would be the appropriate bird-related euphemism for pushing out a baby. But anyway, Mama and the new Birdlet are doing fine, and you can see pictures here. CONGRATS BIRDS!

So besides getting the camera of my dreams, starting a new semester, and getting my hair dyed to resemble a freshly-painted fire engine, it's been a relatively peaceful week, and here's the evidence:

It's faded (hint: Palmolive takes out hair dye) and it looks a lot better when I add my new mahogany eyebrows and some blusher and lipstick.

We went out for pizza. He ate TWO slices that size and drank about 12 ounces of "cow muck."

It rained a lot and thankfully Macy had prepared us.

This one is from New Year's Eve ... a night in which I was determined to have fun despite the fact that Husband had to work until 1 a.m. John and I went out to hear his favorite musicians play, and of course he did a couple numbers with them.

I left the room to go get his pajamas the other night and when I returned, I found him in nothing but a diaper and that cowboy hat reading Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed (by Eileen Christelow). When he got to the second monkey head-bump page he said, "I know this one" and discarded it for Dump It! (by Darice Bailer).

There are several more shots of our week if you just click on any of the photos above.

Happy Weekend, and not that it matters, but Sunday might be a special day in case you'd like to call or send a card or check or flowers. If you ask JEB, "How old is Mama?" he'll say, "29 for evah." They teach them the strangest things at school.

I love my daddy because ...

He reads to me. Yeah, yeah, yeah ... whatever ...

I love my daddy because ...

HE MAKES TRAIN TABLES WHILE I'M AT THE GROCERY STORE WITH MAMA!!!!!!!!!

Add to that the recent father/son lesson on HOW TO CATCH A (gold)FISH (with a Disney rod & reel):

I cannot even hope to ever compete with that kind of handyman/sportsman ability. And so instead, I'm just teaching him how to spell, remember author's names, and read music. He's doing well, by the way. He can tell you the author of any book that we own ... I'm not even kidding. We just started, kind of as a joke, saying the title and author of each book before we read it, and then one day we discovered that he could, on command, tell us the names of all the author/illustrators of what's gotta be at least 50 books. Like, for example, if you say, The Very Hungry Caterpillar he'll immediately say "by Eric Carle." Yeah, I know. It's totally MENSA material.

Now the spelling I can't actually take credit for, because clearly it's from watching our ONE video of Blue's Clues. For those of you who don't know, the host of that show is named STEVE, and he wears his name on the back of his shirt and he spells it before he starts searching for the clues.

Coincidentally, B's boss is also named "Steve," so the other day as we drove by his house, I heard this from the backseat:

"Steve's house. Steve. S-T-E-V-E. Steve."

And then on another day I said something about a balloon that goes "POP" and he said:

"POP! Pop starts with 'P'!"

Coincidentally, I had overheard Steve telling Blue that same thing on the video earlier that morning. Not that The Goose ever watches videos. It's me who likes Blues Clues. I watch it when he's napping.

And so then tonight as we were reading Guess How Much I Love You (by Sam McBratney, illustrations by Anita Jeram), we got to the part where Little Nutbrown Hare is hop hop hopping around and he said:

"Hop! Hop starts with 'P'!"

Naturally I launched into an explanation of initial, medial, and final sounds and a little primer on rhyming. To which he replied:

"No do a big jump on the top."

This is a reference to the fact that he is not allowed to "do a big jump" except at the BOTTOM of the stairs. PEOPLE: He is totally getting that "hop" and "jump" are synonyms.

I cannot get enough of it. I mean, granted, there are times in the car when I am just like, "Turn on the Laurie Berkner so he will stop talking." But most of the time it is completely fascinating.

And the singing. Oh the sweet music to my ears. My mother swears that I sang in the crib as an infant, and after that I sorta kept on a path of musical inclination (which, by the way, has NO earning potential) so I will not be at all disappointed if he decides to, oh say, be in the band instead of playing such an awful contact sport as football.

Anyway, he got this Little Book of Songs for Christmas (no author) and last night we sat down and for 30 minutes ... 30 minutes y'all -- do you understand how long that is in the mind of a toddler? ... flipped through the pages and sang the songs. After the first sightreading he said, "Do again," and so I did, of course. And by the way, during this time, The Dad was upstairs taking a nap. Not that it matters in the least. But this second time as I read it, he'd say the titles of the songs before I even had time to start singing. He was remembering it all after only one read through. He even remembered the ones that I had passed over, saying, "I don't know that one." He'd say, "Not know this one" and turn the page. Then he'd find the picture of the man sitting under a tree and say, "Sing it Mama. John Jacob." As in John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. It's not like a man sitting under a tree gives any clue about JJJS, but still he remembered.

Sponge.

It's a good thing that I do not like to brag or go on and on about my kid because I think I could really get carried away and annoy some people.

Indianapolis for New Years

What you've all been waiting for is finally here: Nana's pictures from the Indy trip. Click the photo to see more.

New Year: 2007

Yet again I failed to take any photos during an important holiday. This is clearly a sign that I need a new camera to give me inspiration. And this past weekend I found out that Nanny needs a new camera. Needs! And so maybe if the New Year brings her one then I can take her old one off of her hands for her. It's just an idea. I have a lot of ideas.

So anyway, I thought we should go back in time to celebrate the New Year. This picture is to show you how far he's come in two years. It was taken when he was almost 4 months old in January 2005. It seems simultaneously like 1 million years and 1 day ago.

We have just returned from a nice vacation in Indianapolis where we met Nanny & Gampy for a New Year Jaunt. We met at the Carribbean Cove Indoor Water Park where The Goose entertained himself in the wading pool water fountains (under the watchful eye of paternal grandparents) and The Dad and I flailed our bodies down slippery and bright yellow, green, and blue tubes into 80-degree water full of people half our age.

And here are the three pictures I have to prove that we did this:

Dad & JEB taking a wading pool break.

Gampy & JEB checking out bikinis.

Nana & JEB putting out fires in the hotel (with a loon). Yes, Nanny has a broken arm -- she did that on Christmas day trying on her new (slippery) socks.

There were a lot of other events ... the children's museum, the regular pool in the hotel, but you'll just have to wait on those until Nanny has time to upload her photos with her one good arm.

Today The Goose and I played together all day. First here at home, then at the playground, where there was a little bit of a discrepancy about whose turn it was on the slide, and who had the right to claim a turn, and just generally what Mama finds to be appropriate (or NOT) about turn taking on playground slides. There was one time out, a lecture, and then an unprobed-for apology in the car on the way home. When he says "I sorry Mama" I just cannot help but pull the car over and get in that backseat with him for an Eskimo kiss.

When we got home he picked up the dad's radio and said, "10-4" clear as day. Then he ate the bun off of an all-organic, no-nitrates-or-nitrites-added hotdog, walked upstairs, said, "I so tie-yahd (tired)" (with a fake yawn, no less), and it was at this point that he caught a glimpse of the roofers who are laying our new green tin roof. Then he said, and I quote: "Oh my NO! Hobee COW. A man up theh (there). Anunna (another) man. Look! Mans (men) durkin' (working)." We think that the "oh my no" is a combination of "Oh my Lord" and "Oh no." He must've heard that from some people in the wading pool in Indianapolis. The other stuff is just general problems with pronunciation of very difficult consonants ("r" and "w" in particular) and an overuse of the plural noun rule. Irregular nouns (and verbs) are always late in the acquisition process.

There's not much other family news of late. There's still a whole lot of talking -- usually the object of the verb is a pronoun whose antecedent is placed AFTER the entire sentence (kinda like Yoda, but not quite). Here are some examples:

"I bonk it. Head."

"I eat it. Prune."

"I dink it. Appa juice."

"I push it. Girl." (remember the turn taking story? -- well, now you have the soundtrack)

I cannot get enough of it, I'm telling you. I am always recording it and promising to analyze the grammar because it is so fascinating. But then there's usually a catastrophe to attend to in the meantime and I end up losing the tape or forgetting about it altogether. Until Thursday night, when I try to throw together a week's worth of memories and happenings and commentary.

And so you have it.

CHRISTMAS 2006

There are lots of stories, but I'll just show you the pictures for the sake of getting to bed by midnight.

We started out by opening our presents to each other on Christmas Eve (before The Dad went to work). I got a new pair of red boots (all weather!) and a new red vest. The Dad got a Yoga for Sports Conditioning Set and a new jacket, and The Goose, well ...

He got trains.

Trains with simple circular tracks.

Trains with larger circular tracks and helicopters hovering over the tracks with the capability to pick up cargo if one has just enough hand-eye coordination.

And then we went to Macy & Grandaddy's. Where there were not only gifts and tractors, but Mama's old rocking chair ("with spy-dahs" -- spiders). Here are the highlights ...

Farm hands need their nourishment.

"Playing money" with Macy on his new table and chairs was a big hit. That cash register was my toy in the early 80s. Notice that there's also a John Deere cell phone, some playdoh with a landshark cutout, and whole plethora of other gifts spread out on the table.

One of the biggest hits of all, however, was the pair of rainboots. Above he is heading out for a day on the tractor with stops at all of the local mud puddles for splashing. It's kinda like when you go on a cruise to the Bahamas, and you get to stop at lots of little islands and other attractions along the way.

And this (above) is my favorite picture ... he fell in love with my old rocking chair and each time he sat down in it, he had to tell the story of how Macy had to clean out the "spy-dahs" from underneath it.

Finally, he was super excited to find out that his Toddler Memory game included a set of TRACTOR cards, and that they seemed to be John Deere, of course.

I hope you all had a very happy holiday and that the new year brings you luck, health and wealth. To enhance your chances of acquiring the latter three things, you might consider having some cabbage and blackeyed peas on New Year's Day. It's helped us tremendously. Except maybe in the wealth category. Though wealth can be measured in numerous ways ...

Peekaboo with a Diaper (while covered in ginger)

Well I have now made enough Christmas cookies and pumpkin bread to kill a man. I have probably used an entire wheat field and enough crisco that even just making the cookies (not eating them, mind you) might have blocked some of my arteries. Oh and did I mention the Chocolate Chip Star Bars? Every year when I finish my grading at the end of the fall semester, I always have about a week to burn a whole bunch of baked goods and/or drop them en route to delivery. But this year ... this must be my year (despite the two root canals). I only burned one batch and successfully delivered all of the other ones via stroller to all of B's coworkers and via Subaru to all of mine.

Meanwhile ... see this does have a Goose-related sidenote ... as I bake, The Goose busies himself with various tasks such as taking out the chicken bouillon cubes and putting them back in and/or dumping out ginger into his special pink bowl and getting it all over his new shirt (see above). He does participate in some of the cookie making, but since he's never really all that clean, I try to keep him away from the give aways. He's really into the snowflake cookies with blue icing but don't get him anywhere near the Santa Claus cookies with a marshmallow hat tassle, coconut shavings for a beard, chocolate chip eyes, and a red hot nose. Unh-uh. He also likes the snowman cookies, because he's completely enamored by Frosty the Snowman these days since Great Aunt Myrtle sent him a Frosty snow globe which was broken within 10 minutes of opening. She also sent a Frosty book, and now everytime we read (excuse me, "SING!!!") the book, we have to re-hash the story of how the snowman got broken and we were all so sad (especially Mama, who was down on her hands and knees digging out broken glass from under the refrigerator while the dad looked on and consoled The Goose (not that I'm bitter at all, but doesn't it seem like men always get the easy jobs?). It's so good that I'm never bitter about those kinds of things, because otherwise my life would be just miserable, you know?

Goose is really into the skill of narration now, and will often repeat various key words until I finally understand and recite the story (with his help). For example, recently we were in the bathroom preparing for our toothbrushing ritual when we noticed that there was a fly perched atop his Beaver Toothbrush. Apparently this was extremely memorable, because now we have to tell the story each time we brush. It goes something like this ...

Goose: FIE! FIE!! FIE!!!

Mama: Yes, one time a fly got on your toothbrush.

Goose: YUCKY!

Mama: Yes, it was yucky.

Goose: Had to get new one.

Mama: Yep, we had to get a new toothbrush.

Goose: Sing it FIE!!!

Mama: And then we sang that song, "Shew fly, don't bother me, shew fly don't bother me, shew fly don't bother me 'cuz I belong to ..."

Goose: SOME-BOD-EEEE!

The most bizarre things stick in his head. Like the time we went camping and he had hot apple cider. Now everytime we say a prayer he thanks God for apple cider. He also thanks God for Seiya and Mana, two of my former students who babysat for him twice.

And if he says that he sees something en route to Target (we've been to Target a lot lately), then don't you dare doubt it, because in a few seconds you will realize that, yes, indeed, there is a yellow jeep and a big 18-wheeler at the "RED LIGHT STOP." As a side note, I taught him to say, "Red light -- stop, green light -- go, yellow light -- SPEED UP!" His Dad wasn't all that amused.

ION ...

We are almost ready for Christmas, which we will spend this year with Macy & Grandaddy in Mississippi. Tonight I spent 10 minutes decoding the following Goosese: "Grandaddy's tractor. Mississippi. Pulls a bullfrog." I kept saying, "Bullfrog"? What bullfrog? And then I remembered, Grandaddy's tractor pulls a "bush-hog." Amphibians, tractor implements, it's all just details. Details schmetails ... it's the main ideas that matter.

In Kimmy news, we have now set up a Kim Laden Color-Coded Terror Alert System in order to warn friends and family members about my moods on any given day. I think maybe my mental dilemmas are going to get better once I resolve all my dental dilemmas, but lately I have been a piece of work. Last week I finished up my second root canal and today I went back to my regular dentist to have them put on my temporary crowns while I lay there in a valium-induced haze. Unlike the endodontist, my regular dentist won't give the nitrous oxide gas on account of the "liability," so I talked him into giving me a prescription for some valium. Not as good as the gas, but much better than me attempting to survive that drill by using my yoga breathing. Now don't get me wrong, yoga breathing can do some serious good. It's how I endured 8 hours of labor. But that drill ... it must have been created by The Devil Himself. My poor sweet 12-year old dentist didn't know what to think as I staggered into the exam room and said, "If you get that drill stuck in my lip I'm taking you to small claims court just like I did with Northwest Airlines. And this time, I won't lose."

So the trip today was relatively painless other than the part where I decided (while Husband was having his teeth cleaned and I was all done) that I needed my bottom tooth (#18) filed down a little more and that it would be OK if The Goose accompanied me back to the exam room (two valium tend to impair your mothering skills). The dental assistant warned him that the drill was going to "make a noise like a motorcycle," but that clearly was not a good preface and a really loud meltdown occurred. All day he kept whimpering and whispering the word "motorcycle." We're training him early in Anti-Dentite Dogma.

Ever since my first root canal (which must've been at least two months ago), I have been wanting to tell y'all the story about that first root canal. But I also wanted to wait to tell it out of fear that making fun of the dental assistant might jinx me for the second one. The first two-hour Torture Period wherein I got whiplash from all the jerking and whatnot was definitely worse. Seriously, I think Sedation Dentistry is so brilliant (but since it's not covered by our insurance, it is completely unaffordable). During my two visits to the endodontist (who has two of his children working with him as endodontists), I had two different dental assistants, both of whom were extremely interesting characters. Despite the fact that I brought headphones and made it perfectly clear by closing my eyes that I was happy in my nitrous haze, they both felt the need to indulge me with conversation. The first one, whose boyfriend owned a chain of those all-in-one video store tanning beds, kept telling me how her first husband had really done her wrong and left her with a lot of debt. A musician. And now her motto is "WITHOUT FINANCE, THERE WILL BE NO ROMANCE."

Or how about the second dental assistant I got who told me all about every single Lifetime movie she had ever watched. In particular, there was one about a little boy with polio whose best friend was trying to save him by saving up his money and collecting donations. But then he lost the ALL the money -- a grand total of $10 and she just kept thinking, "Why didn't he just put it in his sock!?!?!!??" and it was so, so sad and she just sat there and squalled and boo-hood herself into a tizzy. Thank goodness the doctor came in before I had to hear about the happy ending.

And aren't you glad that I have now relayed that same innane plot to you?

I think that's enough of this.

Merry Christmas to all!

p.s. Click the picture above to see some recent shots of our lives.