Profile Update

When I first did my profile, I didn’t put too much info into it. First, I was exhausted after spending ages trying to give this darn blog a name. Second, I didn’t want to fall prey to the phenomenon of sending too much personal info about myself into the Internet void -- kind of funny as I am writing all kinds of personal stuff on this blog. Whatever. Yes. I do see the broken links in that chain of logic.

As the original posts got buried, I realized that my profile didn't really say anything about me, so I updated it. I figured I would find five books, movies, and music that I really liked. It’s hard to find favorites, so I just picked ones that I know I really enjoyed the first time.

Books were easy. That list could go on and on, actually, so I limited myself to a few. Angela’s Ashes is my favorite book ever. I read it in one sitting. I picked it up one evening and literally could not put it down. I read it until the next morning. I laughed. I cried. The book really moved me. I just had to throw in the Nancy Drew series. I read those books as a girl and LOVED them. It was because of Nancy Drew that I learned to love reading. I collected all of her books. We sold the collection in one of our moves when I was a teen, and I will always regret that. I bet I could buy them back on Ebay. I’ll have to check that out. I would have named Laney after her, but Nancy just wasn’t my style of name. Neither was Bess or, egads, George for a girl. I could write a whole post on the books I love -- I think I will, so I’ll stop here for now.

Movies. These were harder. I rarely see new movies. I can, however, name most of Thomas the Tank Engines friends and tell you what color they are, because from the ages of two to three, Nicky loved Thomas and all things trains, so I’ve seen many a Thomas film in recent years. Add the fact that my memory is shot, and I can’t actually remember what movies I watched before that, let alone which ones I actually enjoyed. In any case, I bawled the whole way through Saving Private Ryan, so that one was easy to remember. Funny how a movie that makes you cry can be a favorite, but I really did get lost in those two hours. I thought it was such an amazing and touching story. Amelie is such a fantastic, fun film. It’s a French movie and a little quirky, but I loved it. Finally, I did have to add romantic comedies. I enjoy a good “chick flick” every now and then, although with rare exception, do I ever want to watch one over and over again. I could watch "While You were Sleeping" again and again, though.

Music. This was just sad. I don’t listen to the radio here, and I don’t think I did for a long time before that. I live in a bit of a musical vacuum. I haven’t bought music in a long time either, so I just listen to my old collection of Cd's -- my very dated collection of Cd's, my soon-to-be-played on the Oldies station Cd's. I just listed artists that have albums in which I enjoyed the majority of the songs. Thing is, if you asked me what kind of music I liked, my first response would be R & B and Hip Hop. Yet, I couldn’t really come up with a single Hip Hop artist for my list. I generally only like one or two songs and rarely a whole Cd, maybe I'm not as big a Hip Hop fan as I thought. One of my all-time favorite Cds is Afterglow by Sarah McLachlan. If you haven’t seen the video for World on Fire, you should. It’s so simple and yet so powerful. Don't forget to turn up your sound.

So that’s that. Maybe my taste in music, books, and movies will tell you something about me. Most likely, no one cares.

I updated it anyway! Maybe you'll share some of yours?

Big Love

Laney and I were sitting on the floor while she played with a snowman that Nicky had made at preschool. The snowman was having silly conversations with himself and jumping up and down. Laney looked so adorable at that moment.

“Laney, I love you,” I blurted and kissed her nose.

Laney likes to tease and said in a coy voice, “I not love you.”

“You don’t?” I asked in a very sad voice and pretended to cry. “Boo hoo hoo. Boo hoo hoo.”

“I BIG love you,” she said with a big smile and threw her arms around me to give me a big, hard hug.

She will probably not know until she has her own kids, just how big I love HER. Huge. HUMONGOUS!

All the way to where Darth Vader lives and back.

It's a good thing I love kids in hats and mittens! Laney out and about a week ago or so.

Our Norwegian Easter

It hasn't actually taken me this long to physically recover from the holiday. It has taken my house this long to partially recover. Toys were left where they were tossed. Laundry piled up. And piled up. Then threatened to overwhelm the house. All in the name of getting out and enjoying nature. The same thing happens when the weather warms up in this part of the world. You absolutely CANNOT be inside when the weather is nice outside, so the house, laundry and everything else goes to pot while you get out to enjoy the pleasant, and fleeting, summer weather. Despite what you may believe about Norway, these pictures are NOT of summer weather. :) It was sunny and quite pleasant, but alas, COLD. I think the Eskimo look is probably going to scare the bejeebus out of Grandma and Grandpa in Hawaii.

First, here are the kids dyeing Easter Eggs. You may think the paint shirts are overkill. Then you don't know my daughter. They SAID they had fun, but I didn't really capture that on film, did I? Laney's expression cracks me up.

The kids are sitting on something called a pulk. Basically, it's a pull-sled. It's so you can bring babies (6 months and up) out on ski trips until they are old enough to ski themselves. However, Nicky's no fool. Even though he's already a pretty good skier, he wasn't about to plow his way across a frozen lake when Daddy could just pull him along! Believe it or not, Laney falls asleep in that thing and is out like a log. Skiing on the lake was really nice as it's flat and easy-going. We skied across the lake to get to a friend's cabin.

Ice fishing is fun. Okay, no it's not. In our case, it was ice-sitting as we didn't catch anything. I don't really enjoy fishing to begin with, and while it was nice to have the experience and all, I think I'll leave future ice-sitting/standing to the boys (and Laney if she loves it).

What kids wear on Easter in Norway. . .WOOL! No frilly Easter dresses here. Sigh. I love dressing Laney up in frilly things. I still think they're adorable. I've begun to love the look of kids in wool outfits. They just look so cuddly.

What's Disney have against moms anyway?

I vaguely remember seeing Bambi as a child. My kids received the movie as a gift recently and have watched it a few times since then. My son loves the part where Bambi tries to walk for the first time. He also laughs hysterically as Bambi slips and slides on the ice. I enjoyed it as well, sort of. It's cute and has its moments, but I have to say that I was horrified when Bambi's mother was killed. I honestly didn't remember that part of the film.

I found the scene heart-breaking and completely inappropriate for young children. The two survive the long frozen winter together. They trudge back and forth in the cold and the wind to find food, at one point Bambi's mother has to reach up a high tree to give Bambi the moss that will sustain him. There's so little left, and she gives what there is to her child. Finally, the spring comes, and they find the first spring grass. What a happy moment. Bam! Mommy's shot by a hunter.

Nice. Daddy Deer, who's not been around the entire film, steps in, saves the day, and never a word of Bambi's mother is mentioned again. Life goes on.

Mothers in Disney films are either non-existent or die horrible deaths. Seen Finding Nemo anyone? The touching story of a young boy and his father. His mother? Eaten by a big, scary fish two minutes into the film. Sleeping Beauty has a mother, but she doesn't even get a name. The princess, the king, the prince and his temperamental father all have names. The queen? Well, she's just the queen. Off the top of my head, the only character I can think of with a mother is Mulan, but even in that film, it's Mulan's relationship to her father that is emphasized. Snow White? Cinderella? Ariel? Belle? Jasmine? All have fathers, but no real mothers. Oh, wait. Two have step-mothers. That is, demented step-mothers from hell. The only reason you'd want a real mother is so that she's not replaced by some psychopath who tries to feed you poisoned apples.

I try not to get up-in-arms about these types of things. They are only movies after all. My kids enjoy the ones we've seen, and we snuggle on the couch together to see them. (The first time anyway. The thirtieth time, they're all on their own.) I enjoy the time with the kids, and it's often fun to revisit the classics I loved as a child. Movie nights are family time and we all enjoy them immensely. For now, that means Disney films and animated characters.

It's just a little weird to me. Disney = family. However, the Disney family rarely includes mothers. I kind of wonder if moms didn't need to lay eggs or give kingdoms heirs, would Disney's family entertainment bother with them at all?

Hmmmmmmmmm.

How the heck?

How is it that I've been skiing every day this past week and GAINED two pounds? I'll have you know that cross-country skiing burns 331 calories an hour! Do you hear me Goddess of the Burning Calorie? 331!! Demon is more like it. B!tch.

The optimistic view is that flab has converted into muscle, and we all know muscle is heavier than fat, hence the weight gain.

The realistic view, however, is that the calories burned on skis have not offset the calories consumed from pilfering the children's Easter candy.

Dammit! If you can't down heaps of chocolate when you exercise, what's the point?

God Påske!

I love Nicky's little smiley face egg.

That's Happy Easter to you and me. I've been a little MIA this week trying to get in a traditional Norwegian Easter holiday of skiing, skiing, ice fishing and more skiing. We've done pretty good on that front and have been out on the trails a bit this Easter, skiing in the hills and over frozen lakes. I can feel it in my arms and will be glad for the break tomorrow. It's not like we've been out for miles and miles and miles, but it hurts anyway.

We have tried combining traditions from the two countries. In Norway, it's all about getting on skis, drinking hot chocolate and eating oranges. For the American side, we dye Easter eggs with store-bought Paas coloring at some point in the five-day holiday, then Easter Sunday, we hide the kids' Easter baskets, and they do an egg hunt. This year there was so much snow on the ground, so it was a little funny watching them try to scoop up the eggs in their gloved hands. . .so much for sweet Easter dresses and suits. It's all wool sweaters here. However, Easter chocolate is universal and that they got in spades.

I've taken pictures, but most aren't so great. I NEED a better camera. I will post pictures in a day or two. . .when my arms have recovered.

This is my blog and I can post what I want to. :)

(Sang to the tune of "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Just in case you didn't get that title.)

I'm just posting a few pictures that we've taken recently that I like, but I don't really have anything to write to go with them.

Nicky and pappa out sledding the other day.

Laney on the way back down the hill. Playing in the snow is exhausting.

Laney on skis for the second time. It was really just for the photo op. She wanted to get on skis, but they are way too big and she walked for all of two minutes and we took her off again.

We all have our illusions

Before actually having kids, I think most people have unrealistic ideas about what it's like to have kids. Some people think they will be able to get their baby to sleep through the night at one month old. (Yeah. Good luck!) Some people think they can actually get something done around the house while baby is sleeping. (As if babies sleep except when you're passed out in exhaustion underneath them). Others think that THEIR kids will never throw a tantrum in the middle of a shopping center, and even if they did, these people think they know how to handle it. (Does anyone know how to handle the temper of a 2-year-old?)

I prided myself on the fact that I held no such illusions. I figured all children were nightmares all of the time, which is why I had seriously thought about getting my tubes tied before having kids. This lovely attitude worked out for me those first years, because I was prepared for children/babies of the corn, and it turned out I actually got two fantastic kids.

However, I realize now that I did have at least one illusion. I thought I would be able to get through the incessant question-asking phase of a 4-year-old with grace and aplomb. I genuinely (and laughably, I now see) thought I would ENJOY their curiosity. I would give thoughtful answers to questions, and if I didn't know the answers we could look them up in the encyclopedia or Wikipedia. "Why is the sky blue?" "Well, honey, let's see if we can find out together."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The problem is that my son doesn't wonder why the sky is blue. The questions on his mind are:

Why is the regular Spiderman red and the bad Spiderman black?
Where does Darth Vader live? Why does Darth Vader live far, far away?
Can he hear us if we talk this quiet?
Why is he evil? Why did his teacher teach him bad things?
Why hasn't anyone built an underwater city?

Keep in mind he has never seen Star Wars or a Spiderman film. He learned about Spiderman from a friend and his imagination took off. He learned about Darth Vader from a commercial when we were in the States and he has been fascinated ever since.

Even when I try to give him thoughtful answers to questions, "The evil Spiderman has a black soul, so his outfit reflects the blackness in his heart." Blah, blah, blah. He listens thoughtfully and then asks the SAME QUESTION again. And again. And again. Grrrrrr. How often do we have to have this discussion about the black Spiderman? Why do I bother coming up with an answer?

Tonight before his bath he started asking me all of these random questions about Darth Vader. Finally, I told him, "I don't know, Nicky. I don't know everything about Darth Vader."

"Why don't you know everything? Didn't you see that movie? Why don't you know when people ask you questions about Darth Vader?"

BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHEN DARTH VADER SLEEPS AND I DON'T KNOW WHY HE CAN'T WEAR A HAPPY DARTH VADER MASK!

Of course, my question to him, which I left unasked, was:

Why don't you just leave me alone?!?!

So much for handling the incessant-question-asking-phase with grace and aplomb.
Halloween 2007 Why is the red Spiderman wearing sandals and why is Supergirl picking her nose? Some things in life are simply mysteries kiddo.

Am I a bad person?

Because I'm really, really, really, really, really looking forward to the day when the only butt I have to wipe is my own.

Don't get me wrong, I know I am going to miss these days. I try not to take them for granted.

I know I will miss how Laney's little body is the perfect size to curl up into mine. We have a ritual. In the morning, the first thing she does when she wakes up is come into my room. Pit-pat-pit-pat, I can hear her walking across the hardwood floor. Then she'll climb into my bed and snuggle into me. We lay there for as long as I can get away with it.

I know I will miss how, for now, I'm their best friend. I can make them laugh. I make the hurts go away. I have all the answers.

I know I will miss how Nicky will just stop what he's doing and say, "Mommy, look!" When I do, he makes a funny face so that I'll laugh. He also has a goofy walk he does.

I know I'll miss these days that Nicky still wants to hold my hand. Laney already has to do everything on her own and only lets me hold her hand every now and then. Nicky still grabs my hand every chance he gets. That won't last much longer.

I know I will miss these days.

But seriously, why is it that my kids think the best time to move their bowels is when I'm in the middle of doing something else, say, like making dinner?

Learning to ski

It's Easter in Norway. Easter is actually a five-day long holiday here from Thursday this week until next Monday. Seven took the first three days off of this week too, so he has a nice long vacation.

Easter = skiing, in Norway anyway. It's taken me three years, but I have come to terms with the fact that our outdoor Easter Egg hunts happen in the snow, especially if Easter is early like this year. Anyway, Easter is a big family holiday here, and people take the kids out for cross-country ski trips. We hope to get out on a few, and I want to make good on one of my resolutions.
Seven and I went out skiing today. I wanted to practice without the kids. You have no idea the humiliation of being passed up by three-year-olds on skis while you flounder around on the ground, hair and face covered in snow from where you fell.

Anyway, it was so much fun. We have a trail just two minutes from the house. We were out for two hours and I fell minimally. I did manage to make it up a few hills on my own and was very proud. We tried to get the view in the background, but it is so overcast. We'll try again next time, but here you can get a little glimpse of where we live.

Frosty's lil bro

Isn't that a cute snowman? Let's hear it for the warm-weather girl!

Accessorize! Accessorize! Accessorize! Laney had to have buttons all the way down the front. One of Nicky's friends added the ears. Just needs earrings and can be Frosty's lil sis.

Blue? Brown? Other?

Did you know that there are at least three different genes that control eye color? There may be a few more. This is why the Mendel model of genetics (dominant beats recessive) doesn't quite work for eye color the way we were taught in school. In any case, the more pigment you have in your eyes, the darker they are. The less you have, the bluer they are -- unless you have no pigment, then they're pink. Something like 70 percent of Norwegians have blue eyes. Only about 1 in 6 Americans do. (According to my math, that's about 16 percent).

You're probably wondering why I'm such a vast fountain of knowledge when it comes to eye color genetics. I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?

Actually, I was trying to figure out what color my kids' eyes are. You'd think I'd know. It's not for lack of trying, but they've got kaleidescope color eyes that don't really fall into the basic categories of blue, green and brown. So you tell me, what color are their eyes?

Nicky was born with very blue eyes. Then in the past year, they kept getting more and more brown in them, but never changing to brown. They are predominantly blue, but brown around the iris. They are not green, but sometimes they look green. Does this mean they are hazel?

Laney is the opposite. She also started with blue eyes, but early on they started changing to grayish, golden, and now have settled on light brown. Or have they? They still have blue around the rims, especially in sunlight and very often, they look green in photographs. This seems to fit the definition of hazel, too.

And what exactly is hazel? There doesn't seem to be a good definition. I guess hazel is another way of saying 'other.'

Obviously, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. I just pray they don't get my near-blind eyes. I say my son has blue eyes, my daughter has brown. But in a country where the majority of people have very blue eyes, it seems odd to say my son's eyes are blue. They are blueish.

It wasn't always so hard to tell.

Nicky at 4 1/2 months

Laney at just under 2 months

Were they really that small once? (sniff, sniff)

During my online search, I found this eye color calculator. I thought it was fun to see what percentage chance kids (real or imaginary) have of having what color eyes. Try it out.

http://museum.thetech.org/ugenetics/eyeCalc/eyecalculator.html

When Mom Jeans happen to good people

It was a day like any other. I threw on a pair of relatively recently purchased pair of jeans then a top, then I glanced in the mirror. You can imagine my horror when I realized I was wearing (gasp!) MOM JEANS!

Jeepers!* When did I start wearing Mom Jeans? I had to take a second look to be sure, but it was true. I was wearing high-waisted, butt-flattening, might-as-well stamp "I drive a Mini Van"** on the ass MOM JEANS!!

The worst of it was when I was standing in line to board a plane a few weeks later and there was a 60-year-old woman in line in front of me, and she had my jeans on!! I should not be wearing the same clothes that women 20 years my senior are wearing! How did this happen? HOW?!

Oh, yeah, the muffin top. The muffin top is where it all began.

The thing is, after Laney was born, I clung to the notion that 'by this time next year' I'd be back to my pre-pregnancy weight and shape. I wasn't going to spend a dime on BIG jeans when I would surely lose all of the baby weight. I am was a big believer in the ten months up, ten months down line of thinking of pregnancy weight gain and loss. Of course, it was easy to be smug a believer when I lost the baby weight the first time within that obnoxious little deadline. This time the months came and went and I was still the same weight. Now, it's officially two years later and I'm a few, ehem, pounds from my goal.

Of course, I still believe I can reach my goal. Apparently, I believe I can reach it by sitting on my big ole rump in front of the computer. . .but that's a whole different post.

As unattractive as Mom Jeans are, they keep the extra pooches tucked up where they should be. The cute jeans don't look so cute when your belly is drooping over the front of them. I have--no! please make it not true--a Mom Jeans kind-of-shape, and I need to get used to it. It's hard to come to terms with the body that two little ones have wreaked havoc on.

In the meantime, I'll cling to that little dream that I'll one day be able to wear my pre-pregnancy jeans. Nevermind that by that time they'll be out of fashion and highly inappropriate for a woman my age -- just like the hoochie shoes and mini skirts I've shipped halfway around the world to collect dust in the closet. Seriously, when am I going to wear those again? Chasing my kids down the grocery store aisles? Or maybe while vacuuming the house and watering the plants? Actually, I won't need to water the plants. They're dead. I have a black thumb. But perhaps on a wild night out scrapbooking with the neighborhood women?

Well, we all know that's not the point. The POINT is that I can pretend to be nonchalant when I'm gloating to everyone, friends, neighbors, innocent passersby, that I can wear my pre-pregnancy jeans and implying that I've never looked better. (Just ignore the crow's feet please. And the sagging boobs and skin.)

*No, what I really thought/said was, "What the fucking hell?" For the most part, I'm trying to keep the profanity to a minimum on this blog. It's doesn't have to be G-rated, but I don't have to curse like a sailor either. The word Jeepers has never actually left these lips, but I had to put something there to convey my shock and horror.

** I don't drive a mini-van. Gas is too expensive in Norway. We drive a station wagon! Sexy!

Hi, I'm Miki

And I'm a Coke addict.

Just to be clear, I'm talking about the brown liquidy stuff and not the white powdery variety.

I wanted some Coke, but the kids aren't allowed to drink it (except on rare occasions). I was craving a little and had to have it right then. It was early in the afternoon, and I couldn't wait until they were in bed. That would be HOURS away, many long hours away. I poured my Coke into a coffee cup so the kids wouldn't see it. They'd assume it was coffee and would leave me alone.

Wait. Isn't that what people with real drinking problems do? They put their very own special brand of 'coffee' into a coffee mug so no one will ask questions.

It's a slippery slope, my friends.

One day, it's Coke in the coffee mug. Then you walk into your bedroom to find your newly folded laundry scattered all over the floor, because the kids decided to jump on the bed. The next day Jack Daniels just pours itself in. . .

Brothers and Sisters

Nicky holding Laney shortly after she came home to join our family

I was recently watching a Disney film about two brothers who begin a board game and end up in outer space -- Zathura, for those wondering. It was a fun adventure story filled with robots and scary aliens and eventually brotherly love. What struck me about this movie, though, was how mean the siblings were to each other throughout most of the movie. (The brothers also had a mean older sister.) Of course, it was just a movie.

But it also occurred to me while watching this movie how much I want my kids to be friends, how much I don't want them to be the kids in that movie. It's not that I don't want them to fight, but I want them to like and respect each other, too.

I see them now, and they play so well together. They really are good friends. They sit in bed together and talk about all kinds of things. They play chase and hide-and-seek. She listens with rapt attention while he tells her nonsensical stories of Spiderman and Power Rangers and things he's made up. She adds in her own nonsensical comments every now and then. They get so deeply involved in these conversations. More than anything, though, they genuinely seem to enjoy each other's company.

I hope it will always be like that.

It's not that they don't fight already. Of course, they fight -- especially since Laney likes to pick fights on occasion.

This morning, Laney tells Nicky, "You like blue."

"Wha?" He wasn't paying any attention to her. A big no-no around here.
Laney, "You like blue." She said it innocently enough. He, poor kid, took the bait.

Nicky, "You don't decide which colors I like."

Laney, "You like blue."

Nicky, his irritation mounting, "You don't decide which colors I like."

Laney, "You like blue."

Nicky, "You don't decide! I decide which colors I like. I like black. And red."

Laney, "And blue."

Nicky, helpless with frustration, just repeats, "No! You don't decide which colors I like!"

I intervened gently and luckily it ended easily. This time. Usually, he gets mad and wrestles her to the ground. He is two years her senior and quite a bit bigger than her, not that this phases her. If she can see it coming first, she runs and tries to hide behind me. She is only two. Where'd she learn to press his buttons like that?

Am I delusional to want them to always be friends? I wonder if it's too much to ask that they grow up close.

I thought that movie was a little scary, and not because of the giant meat-eating lizards. It just made me wonder if one day, the only things my kids would say to each other would be nasty ones.

Is there is anything I can do as a parent to prevent that? Is it just luck of the draw and inborn personality that decides if siblings get along? Or can parents do anything to help foster a close relationship between their children?

The kiddos on a hiking trip. Sure-fire way to bring a smile to their lips? Chocolate!

No such thing as bad weather

Nicky and Laney riding a snow unicorn


Norwegians have a saying, "Det er ikke dårlig vær, bare dårlige klær." It means, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes."

Of course, even Norwegians know that's not true. Otherwise, they wouldn't be spending millions of kroner to flock to warm-weather locales and chase the sun.

BUT what I love about this saying is the attitude behind it. Basically, the weather isn't an excuse for not being outside. With rare exception, say, a blizzard, Norwegians are out and about in the cold. You simply dress for the weather and go out in it. If you're outside and your feet are cold, then you have on the wrong shoes. It's simple. It is, in fact, true.

Take being cold out of the picture and you really can enjoy yourself when it's cold outside. I love to watch my kids playing in the snow. They have a blast. I love to play in the snow with them. We can do so many things that I didn't get to do as a kid -- build snowmen, go sledding, and ski. Nicky's been on skis since he was two years old. Laney will start this year. When they come in from the cold, they have this beautiful fresh color in their cheeks and sparkly eyes.

Unless the temperature is below -10 degrees C (+14 degrees F) or a very strong, cold wind, kids are expected to play outside. They are dressed in head-to-toe wool and then have a snowsuit over that. It's a lot of clothes, and it's a pain in the ass to get them dressed, but once they are out, they have so much fun.

Don't get me wrong, I miss the days of one layer. I had no idea how easy we had it in California when we'd put baby Nicky in a light-weight outfit, buckle-him into his carseat and off we'd go. If the weather was California cold, we had a light blanket to toss over him. That was it. Now it's layers, layers, layers. Layers for Nicky, layers for Laney, layers for me. And if one of us needs to pee within ten minutes of being out, it's enough to make me cry.

Of course, it's easier to keep things in perspective when one lives in the northern part of Norway if one has family and friends living in Hawaii. . .a visit to Grandma and Grandpa means a visit to a land of perpetual summer. We really do get the absolute best of both worlds!

Nicky and Laney at the beach

So bring on the snow, we can take it!

Snow Sculpture

The artist Seven calls this piece Tribute to New Life. The work is a representation of a baby about to begin its emergence from the womb. . .to life. Her gender is indicated by the bow on her head, which is sculpted from the life-sustaining potato. Her eyes, also potato, stare unafraid and unblinking toward her future. She is ready to face the world. She has a small smile playing about her lips like the Mona Lisa. She is at once excited but hesitant to begin her journey. The large bulbous nose represents the vast insight she will need to sniff out the bullshit thrown at her as an adult, while the crooked, misshapen arms represent the imperfections all human beings are born with.

Um, so that's what a snowman looks like? I had no idea. I really thought that snowmen looked like Frosty. Three round balls of decreasing size placed atop one another with a carrot nose and a tophat. Apparently, we didn't have a carrot for the nose and I'm not sure what's going on with those arms.

Nicky and Seven made this snowman last winter. I love this snowman for so many reasons. It gave me a good laugh. I love people who make me laugh, and I was in stitches everytime I saw it for the duration of its short life. Poor thing toppled over after a day or two. This snowman is also the first snowman that Nicky and Seven made together.

"Mommy, mommy! Come see what we made," he shouted to me when they were done. His eyes were sparkling and he was so excited. "See! A snowman," he said laughing. Is that what that is? He couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop laughing either, but for very different reasons than Nicky. It was just the funniest damn thing I'd ever seen.

Nicky is not a child that is easily excited about things. Maybe it's because his feelings run very deep that he's so careful with them. His emotions are slow to ignite, but when they do, they catch fire. His anger, his joy, his excitement, they just fill up the space he's in. His pride in that goofy-looking snowman filled up the whole outdoors.

I loved seeing him in that moment. I have this "work of art" to thank for that, and I will always be grateful.

Ignorance is BLISS

If you'd told me fifteen years ago that one day I'd prefer to be blind and stupid to things, I'd never have believed you. I thought it was important to know as much as possible about everything. I was a voracious reader and loved learning little-known or arcane facts. I loved reading the news and knowing what was happening in the world around me.

What a dork.

Today I'm perfectly happy browsing baby websites and reading the occasional mind-numbing celebrity gossip. The reason is that when I actually try and read the news, I find out things like "there’s about a gram of feces—a quarter the size of a small peanut—in every pair of dirty underwear." EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. I could have gone happily to my death not knowing that. Basically, because I have two small children in the house, one of whom is potty-training, my laundry machine is an E. coli infested killing machine.

If you want to be terrified of your kitchen sink, in the name of knowledge, go ahead, click on the link below.

http://www.webmd.com/cold-and-flu/features/germiest-places-america

Otherwise, you can join me back in my dark, but blissful, cave.

Mother Cake

Do you know what a Mother Cake is in Norwegian?

Want to take a guess? It's quite funny really.


*Answer is Comments.

Say Cheese!

Raise your hand if you ever sat in front of the Christmas tree while Dad set the timer on the camera, which was on a tripod, then raced back to take the family Christmas card photo.
(Raising hand)

Now raise your hand if your parents got really mad at you, because you refused to smile for said photo. . .or you smiled really goofy-like. . .or you made a weird face. Raise both hands if you did more than one.
(Raising two hands)

The thing is that I hated having my picture taken as a kid. I don't know what it was, but it was. I can remember one Christmas that my mom was so angry at me because my dad took about ten Christmas card photos and in five of them, the rest of my family smiled at the camera and I glared. In the other five, I smiled, too -- not a normal, pretty smile, but this really weird, freakish smile. Oh, my mom was pissed. In the smiling pictures, I think I thought I was smiling. I didn't mean to ruin the pictures. I just didn't have a natural smile when the camera was on.

I understand now that it's a genetic thing. (See, Mom! It's really your fault I'm like this. Or Dad's. Whatever. I was born destined to smile like a weirdo for family photos).

My son has this thing. When he tries too hard, his smile comes out awkward and unnatural. Thankfully, it's not the freakish smile from my Christmas card photo days. His father's genes must have balanced that out. I have to give Nicky credit. He does try even though he hates having his photo taken, and it's better than when he would just glare at the camera (also there on that X chromosome from me).

This is his smile-for-the-camera face. You never see this face unless he is genuinely trying to smile for the camera. I think it's so very adorable, but it's obviously not his natural smile. Capturing an image of one of those beauties is rare, especially with the 10-minute delay on the digital.

Please tell me why

Can someone please tell me why these kind of shots come out blurry?

And these shots come out in perfect focus?

@#$%^&*^%$$!

Birds and Bees

When Nicky first asked me the question of why boys have penises and girls don't, I thought I was reasonably ready with an answer. He was three at the time and I wasn't ready to discuss any use of his penis other than for urination. I simply told him that boys had to have a penis so Mommys and Daddys could know if they had a girl or a boy at the hospital.

"Can you imagine if you didn't have a penis? Then maybe I'd have thought you were a girl! Maybe I would have put you in a pink dress!" We just dissolved into giggles at the ridiculous thought.

Done.

The question of girls and boys and anatomy has come up again, but it's taken on a different form.

"Do girls pee out of their butt?"

Of course, I understand why he would think that. How else could they pee, considering the anatomical challenges of not having a penis. And to the uninitiated, that's kind of what it looks like anyway.

Now that he's four, I want to give him a truthful explanation of anatomy. Yet, how exactly does one do that about girls? For boys, it's simple. The necessary equipment is dangling there for all to see. Girls are tucked away all neatly inside. My kids have seen each other naked. Both are very well aware that Nicky has a penis. At least, she's stopped trying to grab at it in the bath! He, on the other hand, is tugging on it every time it's exposed.

Both Nicky and Laney think she's all butt from front to back. Again, to the uninitiated, it kind of looks like that anyway. For now, I've just said that girls don't have a penis, but a small hole that's tucked away inside and pee comes out of there not out of their butt. I purposely avoided any discussion of the 'other place.' The explanation worked, but I could see that it didn't satisfy. Why do we need different parts at all? I could see he wanted more, but wasn't really quite sure what he wanted to ask.

And thank the gods for that.

I dread the time when I have to have a real discussion with my kids about their bodies--at least the private parts of them. Is anyone comfortable using the word vagina around their children? The kids know what Nicky has and what Laney doesn't. However, that Laney has anything at all is still shrouded in mystery. Luckily, Nicky knows that babies live in the tummies of Mommies, but it's never occured to him to ask how they got there. (And I say tummy, not uterus. Seriously, Nicky still struggles over the correct pronounciation of simpler English words, I'm not about to unleash uterus on him. Take that, childcare experts!)

When the time comes, I could go the German route. They apparently have picture books to tell the story. The images are very cute and child-friendly. But, let's just say, I think I might die flipping through pages of this book with the kids.

I am living in Europe, but I'm still a prudish American at heart.

What do you think? Would you use this book ? (Click on link)

Material World

I have been having the "Mommy, we just need to buy XXX" conversation with my kids much too often recently. Mostly, it's Nicky. He knows we buy milk, bread and his toys. Of course, he has no real understanding of money and how much things cost. He also thinks that items like, the Death Star, are available for purchase. If we don't have it, we just buy it. Simple.

Laney has adopted this thinking. Yesterday I was making dinner and she came in and announced, "Mommy, you have to buy a penis for me."

I feel like poo-poo

Nothing serious. Just some sinus congestion that is making my head and teeth hurt. What I would like to do is curl up in bed and drink some tea and sleep all day.

But really makes me feel bad is that my two-year-old who is suffering from the same sinus congestion, and had a nasty fever last night to boot, is running around chipper and cheerful. She's not complaining. She's stoic. Where'd she get that gene from?

She's also not laying in bed sleeping all day. That would mean the house was quiet. It's not.