They do love us after all

From M:

"Will I marry when I am 15?"

mom: "No, I think 25 is about the right age."

M: "Well, when I am 25 I will marry Daddy, so I can stay here in this family forever and never leave."

From E:

"Mommy, I don't just love you because you give me things, I love you because you are so sweet to me."

Sanctimony take two

Perhaps you will recall that the other day the girls were both trying to be like Jesus (yeah, whatever). On Friday E told me that, rather, she was trying to be like "the ponies" (eek!). "But," she informs me, "even they make mistakes sometimes."

Art

M was particularly prolific last night in the art department. Let's see if I can figure out how to add photos here:

This is my personal favorite. It's a bunny rabbit. With an invisible body (duh!). And a carrot.

This is the Little Mermaid (note tail). This iteration has short hair. M informed me that "she cut off her OWN HAIR." Mom: "did her mommy take away her scissors?" M: "She has no mommy. [wishful thinking, no doubt] She only has the Sea Witch and she is far far away." Mom: "Then did her daddy take away her scissors?" M: "She has no daddy. She only has a fish friend. And he wasn't watching when she cut her own hair." Lucky mermaids.

The Little Mermaid take two. This one apparently didn't have access to scissors.

This is a boy who took off all his clothes (hence the visible belly button) and put on a tiger costume. He has on a mask so he can't see and his mommy has to lead him around everywhere (this is what M wants me to do with her cougar costume).

This is M's self portrait. What looks like a second mouth is her chin.

This is the Sea Witch with her tentacles (M's word) all curled up instead of straightened out.

Pre-Halloween Festivities and Sanctimony

We carved pumpkins tonight (after having promised the girls we would last night and not getting around to it because we had dinner too late). They were extremely excited about it. E drew on the picture on her pumpkin and Tuey's, and then M spent a loooooong time drawing hers: "I'm just putting on some finishing touches." They mostly have teeny tiny eyes and noses and enormous mouths with itty bitty teeth. Tuey's came out best. M made me carve about a hundred circles all over hers ("those are the touches" she explained). Then she danced wildly in front of them after we had lit them so they would look like they were dancing.

Speaking of dancing, here is the latest favorite activity of the girls: after it gets dark, and preferably on a night when the moon is bright, they put on their fancy Cinderella slippers and go outside to dance with Marmot Dad ("Prince Erik"). If they are really into the story they'll run down the sidewalk and leave one slipper behind for "Erik" to find and bring back to them. M started crying the other night because "I want to have stairs in front of our house!" You know, the kind of stairs Cinderella runs down at the stroke of midnight.

This post is apparently all about M. Here's one more story about her. E has been having fits left and right lately for no apparent reason. As soon as a fit starts, M will look at me solemnly and slightly sanctimoniously and say, "I would never treat you like that, Mommy."

Of course, both of them assured me last night that they were trying to be like Jesus and only do right things. M opined that she would probably be like Jesus by the time she was 20. One can only hope.

Tuey, for his part, is a full time walker now. Only occasionally does he have a need for speed so pressing that he has to scamper on hands and feet with his sweet little bottom in the air. He also has lots of words to say. His favorites are please (said "pih! pih!" while signing please and looking hopefully at my chest) and cheese (which he doesn't particularly like to eat, but he likes to say it).

I am losing my mind

Yesterday was a big day for us. We went to the library for story time, then I stuffed the kids in the car and gave them their lunch on the way to preschool. (Tuey, for his part, smeared peanut butter and Nutella all over his face and in his hair and then promptly fell asleep.) Then I came back home with Tu and M and then went BACK to preschool to get E and on the way home we went to the grocery store to pick out pumpkins. (Aside: it takes kids FOREVER to pick out pumpkins, especially when part of the time they're pretending to be Wilbur the pig walking on the barnyard fence or when they're getting their feet stuck in between pumpkins. M, of course, was wearing a long skirt and a fancy, silky tunic.) Anyway, I stuck the pumpkins in the front of the van because there was no room in the back because the stroller was back there. OR WAS IT?? After Marmot Dad got home from work, we put the kids in the car again to go out, and I looked in the back and noticed the stroller was GONE. Left on the sidewalk at the library. Yes, this is my brand new double stroller that I paid for with my hard labor this summer in the classroom. The good news is that it was still on the sidewalk when we went racing back to find it. Someone had even pushed it into a corner out of the way. I just can't believe I forgot to take with me a great big RED stroller. (Of course Marmot Pa says it's good I forgot the stroller and not the kids.)

The Blind Leading the Blind

A conversation from our ride home from preschool:

M: Brooke says purple in a funny way. She says "puhpol." (NB: M and E both say purple as "paypul.")

E: Well, she just talks different from us. She's little. (She's older than M.)

M: But she says paypul like puhpol.

E: No she doesn't. She says paypul.

M: No she doesn't. She says puhpol.

E: No she doesn't. She says paypul.

M: Mommy! E's contradicting me!

And here is E's take on everything in the world. We went for a walk tonight with the girls riding bikes. They are not allowed to ride their bikes across streets but have to get off and walk across. Sometimes M doesn't want to, so we tell her to watch how E does it and follow her example. Tonight Marmot Dad was trying to get M to hustle on off her bike and across the road and was trying to throw in some positive reinforcement along the way, so he said, "here, get off your bike and we'll walk across the road and you can be an example for your sister." At which point said sister cried out, shocked and appalled, "No! No one has to be an example for me, ever! I am ALWAYS an example for EVERYONE ELSE!"

So there you have it.

She also informed me that "preschool is so pleasant when Sam and Averie aren't there."

Tooey is getting good at walking, although he needs to start bending his knees.

True Stories

So, many years ago, before E was born, Marmot Dad had a dream that he was holding a little Mongolian boy in his hand and the boy's name was Tajil (or Tadjil, or Tagil, or what have you). We called E Tajil until she was born. Last Saturday I was asked to go to a law conference dinner to help host some of the international guests. I was initially seated at a table with three Mongolians. And one of them was named . . . Tajil. No kidding.

A few weeks ago my ditsy neighbor was over in our yard asking her daughter how school had gone. Daughter said that she was not allowed to eat her marshmallows for a snack at school because they were a sugary snack and their class is not allowed to have sugary snacks at their snack time. Neighbor says, "Marshmallows? I didn't know they had sugar in them." Flabbergasted, I reply, "marshmallows are ALL sugar, and a little bit of gelatin." "Oh great, that's all my two-year-old eats." Sigh. Sad but true. I saw someone over at said neighbor's house a few days ago measuring for an appraisal. I was hoping they were getting ready to sell, but no, they took out a second mortgage to finance the opening of a jewelry store. But we figure either way we win: if the shop does well, they'll move into a big fancy house in a big fancy neighborhood. If it does poorly, they'll move back to Idaho.

Another true story: E ate fish and liked it. Hallelujah. She even asked for some for breakfast.

And finally, E and M have discovered a new favorite game: ponies go to college. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

When Ponies Go Bad

On Thursday while E was at preschool, M and Tuey and I went to one of our favorite haunts, D.I. We scored big time. The girls want nothing more than My Little Ponies for Christmas, but I've been severely griped about spending $5 (each!) for ugly plastic ponies that, frankly, look a little slutty. Well, someone apparently cleaned out their pony collection, and I managed to select six sparkly ponies, one with wings (that always makes the girls happy) for $.25 each. I thought I was so clever to hide them in the basket under a pair of pants. But I guess M has pony radar, because she found them somehow and almost went through the roof with joy. So as a compromise I told her she could select ONE for herself and one for her sister to play with right now, and then we would put the rest away for a surprise for Christmas. So she did, and it worked out pretty well (even though she told E "there are two more of these for you!" but I'm hoping she forgets). And the girls have played with them nonstop since Thursday. I mean nonstop. They even took them over with an extra for their friend Max to play with yesterday.

So today I'm sitting on the floor picking things up when I hear "oh no! A wild animal! Get it!" I look around to see an orange pony and a purple pony holding PISTOLS and they both say "BANG BANG!" and then go to get the wild animals, skin them, and eat them. Yes, pistols. The girls had taken little pegs out of the CD tower (the pegs that hold up the shelves) and shoved them into the ponies' hooves and then taken their maurading gang of ponies around the house to destroy and devour.

Marmot Dad says this is particularly ironic considering the ponies' general effete and lackluster looks and personalities. Aren't they supposed to love everyone and fly around spreading happiness or something? (I missed out [thankfully] on the whole '80s pony phenomenon. MBC??)

I also found the game Operation at DI and have put that away for E's birthday (she's thought she is an underprivileged child ever since she got to play the game at a neighbor's house).

Now here's a recipe (from Moosewood Cookbook) we had at a neighbor's house last week. Very tasty on crusty bread:

grind in food processor or blender:

1 C walnuts

some parsley

add and blend to a smoothish paste:

1 C feta cheese

1/2 C milk

1 clove garlic

pinch cayenne or red pepper flakes

Eat and enjoy. 

Theology

A true conversation from this morning, which Marmot Dad told me "please blog. Please blog now."

E: I was so scared last night until you told me I didn't have a crack in my eye (she dreamed that she did). (pause) Mommy, why did you pray to Heavenly Father that I would only have good dreams, and then I had a bad dream?

Mom: (stymied)

M, the junior theologist: well, maybe Heavenly Father will help you some time (meaning some other time).

E: He helps me all the time.

M: Because he loves little children. (pause) And we are children. (another pause) I dreamed about the Jungle Book last night.

Boys will be boys

Here's what gave Tuey great joy tonight. He was eating applesauce, and he always eats it as messy as he possibly can--puts his sweet little face right down in the bowl and gops. He got some in his nose, and then he thought that was the funniest thing he had ever done. He started grinning and snorting applesauce in and out of his nose and laughing hysterically at himself. I'm afraid we're in for years and years of burping contests and the like at the dinner table.

As I was making the applesauce, E came in and said, "Mommy, what is that delightful smell?" Oh yeah, she knows how to play me.

M took the Lego box outside this evening (somehow evading my watchful gaze), stripped down, filled it with water, and was going to swim (in 55 or 60 degree weather). I nabbed her before she got it completely filled and decided to let her swim to see that I was right about how freezy cold she would be. Instead, she sat on top of it and wee-wee-d into the water. That naughty girl.

How (Not) to be a Domestic Goddess

I get toast tonight as an after-dinner snack for the girls. With fresh, homemade peach jam on top. It was as fresh as it gets. E ate about four bites and then was done. I asked her what the problem was. "I don't want to eat this." "But you asked for it." "But I don't want to eat it. I'm afraid worms might start popping out of it."

Back story:

So a couple of years ago my sister came over and we decided to break out some apricot jam. When we opened the jam, said sister spied a small, well processed worm on the top of the jam. I've been a little leery of apricot jam since then, I must admit. I don't know if E can remember this at all, but she told me the whole story: "and then when Aunt opened the jam a worm came popping out." I assured her there was no popping of worms, just a little worm lying there calmly, waiting to be discarded. But she's not buying it.

The good news is, she remembers in her version of the story that AUNT made the worm-popping jam.

In my own defense, that is the ONLY jar of jam in about 20 years of jam-making that has EVER had a worm in it.

In other news, E asked me yesterday, "will I ever have to wear hoop skirts?" (Do you sometimes HAVE to let an alligator eat you?)

M and Tuey had checkups today. Shots for everyone. M tried soooooo very hard to be stoic. She bit her lip and held in her little tears as long as she could, but it all came bursting out. Tuey just screamed bloody murder. He weighs 19 lbs. -- 75th percentile for height, 3rd for weight, skinny little guy.

Yesterday M was the angel who came to Joseph Smith. She came and asked him, "How do I look, Joseph Smith?" I didn't know there were narcissistic angels in heaven.