As-tu un animal?

It has been a long hard road, but finally we have made it. Between the children and myself, the many hours of hard work and concentrated effort have paid off. At last. We have chipped away, we have niggled and we have wriggled into any gap that dared to show itself. Indeed on more than one occasion there have been tears. But on Saturday we declared ourselves victors! 

We can now proclaim ourselves to be...........PET OWNERS!  
(The defeated opposition? Daddy!)

Oh, yeah! There's no standing up to the three of us when we band together! And so it was on Saturday morning that we walked into PetCo exchanging high 5's and slapping each other on the back. "Show us your bestest fish!" we announced.

I know, fish? But it's a start and the children are delighted. Once we got passed the quite substantial attitude on display from the shop's staff ("You're not planning on putting fish in that tank today, are you?"), we  had fun picking out just what we wanted.

Never one to do anything by halves, Jodi had done his research and decided on a 29 gallon aquarium, fresh water, no stand, and yes, we know that you have to give the water 24 hours to get up to temperature before you put the fish in. (You're not planning on selling anything to anyone with that attitude today, are you?) We chose a sunken pirate ship, naturally, and a faux log with plenty of hiding places (I told you we'd done some research!) and plenty of pretend plants so we don't have to deal with too much algae build up (See? See? They didn't employ ALL the smart people in this pet shop!) Jodi selected a tank which came with a filter, heater and thermometer so we just needed some food and, eventually (obviously not right now, as the water won't have had time to heat up) some fish.

We set the tank up in the sun room, not in direct sunlight of course, and filled it  with the rinsed gravel, carefully washed ornaments and 'plants' and some of the coldest water I have ever had the misfortune to carry about in a bucket. We took the water from the outside taps meaning it came straight from the well before being messed about with in our complex filter system.  I swear it was 6 thousand degrees below freezing outside and snowing, damn it.

The children and I went back to choose the fish on Monday, which had given the water in the tank plenty of time to get up to an electricity draining 75 degrees F. We were greeted by a lovely sales assistant this time, who gave us her very best information about The Right Fish For Us; Yes, you can have 6 fish in that tank but don't buy them all at once, only buy 2 today. No, you can't buy a sucker fish today, you have to let the algae build up first. No, you don't just feed them once a day, go for twice or three times. No, don't choose Tetras they're not as hardy as the Molly or Platy varieties.

So we took a few minutes to have a look and decide which ones we wanted.

A different sales assistant came over when we looked ready. and had her say; Yes, 6 is a good number, of course you can buy them all today! A sucker fish? Sure! Just get some algae pellets so he's definitely got something to snack on. No, strictly once a day only for food! Molly, Platy or Tetra, they'll all do equally well.   

Hmmmmmm.

We did what anyone would do with a bit of background knowledge and conflicting advice: we believed the bits that suited us best. We bought 5 fish; a pair of Dalmatian Mollies, a pair of Sunset Fire Wag Platy, and a sucker fish, mainly because they are pretty (except the sucker fish, nothing pretty going on there). And they all survived the journey home. Phew!

On Thursday, Meg and I went back to PetCo, not to return any dead fish, they're all still eating and pooping in our tank, but to buy a pair for Meg to have as her own. She chose a pair of tiny orange Sunset Fire Platy and named them both Nippy. They too made it into the tank alive, and seem to be flourishing, along with Spit and Spot, and Falcon and Skywalker. Bet you can't guess which fish belong to Finn?! Ole Suckerooni is still hanging out under the log, we think; he's not very social but he hasn't floated to the top yet either ........

The kids are both fascinated by them,  but Finn is particularly pleased. In French lessons, instead of being the only child to say 'Non, je n'ai pas d'animal,' he can now proudly proclaim, 'Oui, J'ai sept poissons!'

 

It's better than telly!

High on the hill was a lonely goatherd...

Jodi says he doesn't want me to make one for him. I just cannot imagine why! I'm having one......maybe........

Happy Halloween!

Finn's turn!

 

Why do you only make things for Meg, Mummy?
Well, up until now this has been the case but, to be fair, my dressmaking has only been going on for so long. I rustled up a couple of frocks for Meg for our hectic summer socializing, but a boy's shirt felt a little out of my league. But then I had a good idea.

I acquired, a little while ago, a bolt (yes, a whole bolt) of the most beautiful wind proof fleece you've ever seen. It looks warm and cozy and is just waiting for you to snuggle up under it. But blankets I thought, are easy, let's make things a little tricky. I know, I'll make it into a fleece jacket - for Finn! Yeah! I bought a pattern, laid out the pieces.........and spotted the problem. The fleece is, by its very nature, thick. And if you have to join two pieces together, it's twice as thick. And this pattern has pockets! I wasn't sure if me and my little machine were up to the task, but with a few minor detours from the instructions and a false start with a zip, I did it!

And then I did it again! I did mention that I have industrial quantities of this fabric?  Well, I thought that if my little boy likes his so much then another little boy that we know might like one too.
I'm giving it to him tomorrow as a surprise. I'll let you know what he says.

What a difference a few years make!

Jodi and Finn were very kindly gifted some tickets to the NASCAR racing a couple of weekends ago. They both loved it and enjoyed the day enormously. Their memories of the day are a little different and there are fairly obvious differences in what they will tell you was their favourite part of the day.

 

I thought they were going to enjoy seeing these:

One of them did and spent some time photographing them:

One of them spent far more time photographing these:

Can you guess which one preferred which?



(Had I been there I would have spent far more time here:

Dr.McDreamy, for the uninitiated - the spectacular Patrick Dempsey who, when he's not hanging about acting in Grey's Anatomy, is driving racing cars.)

A funny thing happened at Easter.....

...when we were travelling in the car and made a brief pit-stop. I made an unusual decision: I decided to treat my children to some chocolate. Because everyone likes chocolate, right? Well, my eye happened to fall upon some small bags of Cadbury's Mini Eggs. You know what they are? Small chocolate eggs, covered in a sugar shell that looks like real eggshell but all pastel and Easter-ish and pretty.....
"Here you are children, Mummy has a surprise for you!" I awaited the sweet thank-you's and endless gratitude that would flow in my direction.
"What are they?" asked Finn, a trfle suspiciously.
"Chocolate eggs!" (Aren't I fabulous for surprising you in such a way? was what I meant.)
"They don't look like chocolate."
"They're covered in sugar," I was forced to explain, feeling the whole situation turning a little sour. "Why don't you taste one?"
Finn carefully removed one from the bag and sniffed it. Yes, he sniffed it. And examined it close-up. I turned away and helped Meg open her bag and showed her the pretty colours. "Yummy!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. At least I had scored a hit with one of them. I turned back to Finn just in time to see him take a tentative bite. Here we go, I thought, now he'll thank me. After all, what's not to like about a Cadbury's Mini Egg.
And then it happened. The last thing I was expecting. But never having seen anything like it before, however could I be expecting it?
He spat. He spat out his bite of sugar coated chocolate as if it were a live worm.
"Ugh, ugh, UGH!" he shouted, brushing his tongue with his hand and spitting  chunks all over his car seat. "That is disgusting, Mummy help me! Ugh, yuck, pew, pah....."
I sat with my mouth open in utter amazement. Chocolate coated in sugar? Two of Finn's most favourite things? I pulled an egg out of his bag and popped it in my own mouth to see if we were dealing with a tampering incident. No. Perfectly OK.
The Tom and Jerry reaction was still continuing to my left. "I need a drink, Mummy, yuk, foul, disgusting..." He rambled on, wiping the choclate covered drool from his mouth and spreading it everywhere.
I chanced a look at Meg to see how she was going. But nothing to see there except a steady bag to hand action as she shovelled small pastel eggs into her mouth with barely a glance at her brother.
"Did you see that? I asked Jodi, "have you ever seen anyone react like that over a chocolate egg? What would the Easter Bunny say?"
"Well, at least one of our children is having the appropriate reaction," he replied nodding his head at Meg. We both looked at her and noticed her bulging cheeks.
"You enjoying those, poppet?" I asked, just as I realised she wasn't actually chewing. She nodded and continued to sit there, mouth full but not chewing. She shifted her mouthful about then made moves as if to spit something out. i grabbed a tissue (reflex action, this is quite a common occurrance with Meg) and put my hand under her chin. Out came a carefully formed  ball of...........sugar coating. Small pieces of sugar coating separated from their chocolate and gathered together into a ball.
It would seem that sugar coated chocolate is not to the liking of either of my children.

Too clever by half

On one very domesticated morning a little while ago, I was busy with my home-making duties when a very excited Finn rushed into the kitchen. "Mummy, come and look what I found!"
I dragged myself away and followed him, expecting a basement bug (no, don't know what that is but he assures me they exist) or something revolting festering in a corner somewhere (anything is possible in this house.) I was a little surprised when he led me straight to the computer.
"Look! A Toy Story cartoon!"
Immediately suspicious, I leaned in closer, "Where did you....how did you....who........WHAT ARE YOU DOING? This is YouTube....how...what...?" I failed again to organise my mouth into anything coherent. I stopped and drew breath. "How did you find this?" i tried, calmly.
"I opened up Google and searched for Toy Story stuff."
"But you are only 5 - you can't spell!"
"I know, but I had a good idea. I got the DVD case and copied the letters into the box and pressed Enter. Clever, huh!"
"Um, yes.... But .....the parental controls....I thought......"
"I didn't use my Log In. I can't open Google on my Log In.'
"So how did you......?"
"I used yours."
Of course.
"But Mum, it's just a Toy Story video."
"This time it is, yes."
And feeling thoroughly useless as a modern day parent, I vowed to be more careful and always close my Log In. Finn has yet to crack the password entry system to that at least. I can't quite help the feeling tho that it's only a matter of time..........

Spring? Really?

Lots of things happened in the spring round here.......

.....the kids went out for Baseball practice - some of them with very little idea of what was going on.....

.......our mock cherry tree did this....

....our neighbours' trees did this....

...then the weatherman did this....

 ......in April. Lovely.

Thank you, Buzz!

Finn is, as they would have put it in the olden days, of a delicate disposition. My fearless ice-skating, hockey playing, swimming-like a fish boy can be reduced to a state of extreme jellification at the sight of a little blood. And when the blood is his, it's even worse.

He led a charmed life as  a very small boy and it wasn't until he was well into his fourth year that we discovered his blood related issues. It was Mother's day. Mummy and Finn went out for a morning walk in the sunshine to spend some quality time together without the smallest, noisiest member of the family. We walked down to the lakeright then on through the secret tunnel onto the adjoining fire lane. (This will only make sense to those of you who have visited or who live here so for everyone else let's just say, it's a nice walk down a couple of country lanes!) We broke into a spontaneous game of tag and I immediately learned several lessons on child rearing all at once:

It is not a good idea to play tag with a child wearing wellington boots.
It is not a good idea to play tag on a blacktop road.
It is not a good idea to cause said child to fall on said blacktop road especially when it is a good ten minute walk home and the child is liable to pass out at any moment.
It is always a good idea to carry band aids in one's pockets or handbag. Or at least a tissue for the wiping up of excess blood run off.

So, having learnt all these lessons at the same time, I found myself with a near hysterical child, ten minutes from home with the threat of a blood-filled wellie becoming more real by the second.

After having done my, "Oh, poor you!" routine and its having no effect, I was forced to change to the, "Come on, chin up, it's not that bad!" so oft used by the English parent, and then on through my very own special blend of, "Well, I can't carry you home so it's either walk by yourself or stay here."

We made a sorry picture as we trudged home along route 41: Finn in tears holding up his shorts leg as blood trickled into his boot, and me trying hard not to make eye contact with car drivers for fear of worrying them into calling the police. When we arrived home, I was forced to lay Finn down on the sofa as he had gone very white and trembly, and when I came near him with a bowl of water and some gauze, he got worse.
"What are you gong to do, Mummy? Will it hurt?" A new round of sobbing.
"It will a little bit but I have some Toy Story band aids we can put on afterwards. And some chocolate." I was trying hard to make up for my slightly less than empathetic reaction earlier. And I wanted to stop him going into shock from a cut knee. So he soldiered on, clutching Buzz Lightyear to his chest and gradually returning to his usual colour. After a good couple of mouthfuls of chocolate and a few dozen reading books, he managed to rise from his prone position and let me cook him some lunch.

We are now fully prepared to cope with Finn's reaction to blood and pain, scheduling an afternoon at home instead of pre-school after routine vaccinations, for example. But it doesn't have to be his blood or his pain that elicits such a reaction: Finn's pre-school teacher informed me one day that he'd had to have a bit of a sit-down after two boys bumped heads at playtime. Two other boys. And when he got a splinter in his hand from Daddy's newly built deck stairs, I nearly called an ambulance there was such a blood curdling racket. And when Daddy tried to get the splinter out with a sterile needle and tweezers...

Beware Suburbia!

We went, recently, away with friends. Skiing had been on the agenda but a spell of the most beautiful un-New-York-in-March type weather meant that the region was in an unusual state of suspended animation - the ski runs were closed but the summer attractions had yet to open. The gloriously high temperatures were sending visitors like us off in search of ice-cream only to find the Closed 'til April signs still propped in windows, coated with winter dust. A day trip was planned. Saratoga Springs - quite splendid! We had been in the car for a good fifteen minutes when the inevitable happened: "Are we nearly there yet?"
I replied in my best patient Mum voice, "Look at the houses, I would guess that we're right on the edge of town, wouldn't you?"
"What does 'on the edge of town' mean?"
Striving really hard for patience this time, "Well, what do you think it means?"
A moment's pause, then from under lowered lashes in a tone that suggests he knew oh! so much better: "That we're going to fall off."