We survived the crash

The computer crash, that is.

Saturday afternoon, after returning from getting our pumpkin, and as just a part of the insane and nearly catastrophic weekend we had, my computer crashed. Guthrie hit the surge protector button, I turned everything back on, then he did it again, and once again I was trying to get everything started, when bam, nothing, crash boom bang.

And I had just been talking to two different people who had had computer crashes recently, and thinking I do a pretty good job of backing everything up. Except, when the computer crashed, I realized I hadn't backed things up in at least a week, a week in which we had taken 500+ really awesome pictures. And Eric and I had a little miscommunication, where each of us thought the other was backing up his e-mail, so it wasn't getting done at all. it wasn't as big a fight as it could have been.

The good news? We were able to salvage all the pictures (it was only a few hundred that weren't already on the external hard drive), Eric's e-mail is all there, and the computer is now fine, and just like new. Well, that's part of the bad news. Now I have to reinstall all my programs, add back all the files, and get everything figured out again.

The really bad news is that I lost my e-mail. Yes, all of it. My address book, my messages. Everything.

I'll recover. This happened once before. I am learning to back things up even more often.

In the meantime, send me an e-mail so I can have your address again, and if I haven't gotten back to you, this is why.

Fall is on its way

The big news of the day:







Yep, that's right, fall is officially going to arrive Monday. And it was the headline of the newspaper.

If you could read it a little more closely it says that the highs next week are only going to be in the 80s and lows might drop all the way into the 50s!!! Break out the parkas, baby. (Kidding, kidding.)

On Monday and Tuesday, the high might not even hit 80. Whoa!

Middle of October, and we were still playing in the kiddie pool, and I'm currently dressed in a tank top and shorts. But oh, am I ready to turn off the AC and open the windows. I like it hot - really, I do - and I hate the cold (and I've lived in Alaska, so I know cold), but I'm done. Now come the months of paradise that is fall and winter in the Valley. Our tree in the front yard is starting to bloom, and I'm very much looking forward to a tree full of pink flowers full of butterflies and hummingbirds. Here it comes!

Woo-Woo!

Another reason I don't like battery operated, noise-making, light-activated toys:

When I walk past the train puzzle with all the pieces missing and my shadow causes enough change in the light to cause it to go off, but I can't figure out what the heck that weird noise is at 10 at night, it scares the heck out of me, and I'm sure there is a pterodactyl in my house.

And there wouldn't be batteries in it at all if Guthrie hadn't figured out that the little slots in the backs or bottoms of certain toys hold batteries, which cause the toy to do something.

Help!

Can anyone tell me what the block-like round toys, in the picture below, might be called? I have no idea. Guthrie had a blast with them a few months ago, and so did Samantha for that matter, and I remember playing with them in elementary school. My mom asked about them today, about a possible Christmas present, but I'm clueless as to what they are actually called, and the internet is not turning up any solid answers. So, to all of you out there, anyone know? Anyone? Help, please. Even if we don't get them for him, I'm going to go nuts until I get their name.

Good riddance

I'm pretty left-wing bleeding-heart card-carrying-ACLU-member liberal when it comes to most issues. I have some problems with our "justice" system, and have come to be pretty much against the death penalty. When Eric was offered two jobs when he took this one, one of my big concerns about the other offer (but not the reason he didn't take the job) was that we would have been living in the place where Texas conducts its executions.

However, when it comes to people like this guy , well, I just can't see how we can justify a suicide watch. While I still don't support the state putting him to death, if he wants to do it on his own (and he did), then why should we stop him? Why not let him save the taxpayers the money of a trial? And the hassle?

Although maybe suicide is the easy way out for people like this. Goodness knows he would have gotten his due in prison, and maybe that kind of justice would be more fitting.

Losing the Battle

with the toys. The toys - and the boys - are winning.

I realized that most of my day seems to consist of picking up toys, putting them away, picking them back up, putting them back away, rinse, lather, repeat.

And for some reason, Guthrie's new favorite pasttime is dumping out all of his toys all over his bedroom floor. And today he decided he wanted to play with puzzles. And by "play" I don't mean actually try to put puzzles together. Oh no,not a chance. He wanted to dump out all his puzzles all over the floor. And then, while I was trying to put all the puzzles back together and put them away, Turner had to "help." And by help I mean dump them all back out and scatter the pieces all over the floor. And then they discovered that one of the puzzles had a switch on the back, and still had batteries in it, and they spent the rest of the day making the puzzle make noise. ("How much is that doggie in the window, I sure hope that doggie's for sale.")

We've all been slightly ill around here, too, which makes it even more fun. No sleep, I don't really have the energy to chase them outside, and so I know it's from going stir crazy.

Anybody have Mary Poppins phone number? E-mail? Blog address? 'Cause I'm about ready to quit. Or at least take an extended break. Heck, 3 hours would be good.

He looks like a genius

Like Turner's Einstein bed-head? Yes, he still calls all animals "woof woofs" and doesn't really talk much, doesn't know how to do algebra or calculate the energy of an object in motion, but at least he has the hairstyle of a genius. It's a start. And the story I've always heard is that Einstein didn't talk until he was 3, so maybe Turner's on the right track after all.

Our little Biker

Guthrie has been riding his tricycle everywhere lately - wanting to ride it when we took our walks, and go for rides every night before bed. But he's getting kind of big for it, and we saw a little boy not too much older than Guthrie on a bike, and decided it was time for him to get one.

I wasn't sure how he'd do, but Eric was confident he'd figure it out fine. Well, apparently I should actually listen to my husband on occasion, because he's doing great on his bike. It has training wheels of course, but he's learning and having a blast. We go for rides most mornings and every night, and stop and have a nice little visit with a neighbor's cat while we're at it. (Turner still thinks it's a "woof woof" but he also now says "cat.")

For Christmas, I've told Eric I want a bike too. Eric has one, and if I got one, I figure we could all go for rides together, at least on the weekends. Good way for us all to get in shape and have some family fun.

NIP

This is an awesome post about the whole "nursing in public" ignorance that takes place so often. Go check it out. It illustrates how so many people get all riled up seeing a few centimeters of skin exposed for a mother to feed her baby (honestly now - how many times have you seen a woman nursing in public exposing her nipple for any serious length of time, or at all? I don't think I EVER have) while they will tolerate all kinds of skin exposure in magazines, on billboards, in advertisements to sell beer, jeans, CDs, or whatever.

I am convinced it is not about the real exposure that comes from nursing in public (NIP) that bothers people. Most of the time, if a woman is nursing in public, there isn't much exposure at all, and certainly no more than you will see in other places in hot weather when girls are running around in skimpy clothes. It is, I'm certain, the ACT of NIP - the act of breastfeeding in general - that upsets and offends people.

I don't have the time or energy to go into much depth with this, but I think a lot of it comes from our need, as a culture, to overcome nature, to deny that which is natural and biologically normal. This extends to our obsession with hygiene and showering constantly, shaving every part of our body we can, prefering to take drugs to treat our ailments rather than concentrating on the root causes and fixing our diets or lifestyles. Breastfeeding is the perfect example of what our bodies, our most basic human NATURE, can do if left alone and allowed to do what they need, and it it offensive to many. The baby bottle, baby formula, the sterility and unnaturalness of it all, seems so much more safe, and so much less offensive, to the majority.

Remember Demi Moore's magazine cover, where she posed nude while very pregnant? Remember the uproar? It was beautiful. Remember any of the covers linked to in the post above? Christina Aguilera on Rolling Stone, or Janet Jackson on another issue? Where was the uproar there? There wasn't, because they were presenting breasts in their culturally acceptable context - as sex object - not in their natural context - as objects for feeding and comforting a baby.

Proud!

First, excuse my absence. I smashed most of the fingers of my left hand into our garage door about a week ago (don't ask - my clumsiness will be my demise, I'm sure), and although nothing was broken or otherwise seriously damaged (at least I don't think - I didn't actually go to the doctor or anything) my left middle finger is still in some serious pain, still hasn't regained all the feeling, and is just now starting to develop a pretty serious bruise under the nail. So, typing hasn't exactly been easy, or fun.

BUT ---

I talked to my mom earlier today. My mom is ... okay, I won't reveal her age here. (She says she's 19, again, on every birthday.) She has never, once, in her life, flown in an airplane, anywhere. She has, as many people do (myself included) a fear of flying. We've talked about it in the past, and she has given her excuses, but shown not much real desire to overcome this fear.

A week or so ago, I talked to her on the phone, and invited her here, to visit us, for Christmas this year. The thought of traveling to Missouri with the boys, the hassle, the cost, not spending Christmas in our own home (again) just seemed so ... not fun ... to me, and I thought she and Samantha could come here, to Texas. I even looked up the Amtrak schedules to see how it would all work.

Well, today on the phone, she said that she is thinking about coming, and thinking about FLYING!!!!!!!!!

I cannot properly express here, on the internet, for anyone in the world (or, okay, the 6 people who occasionally read me, LOL) to see, how terribly proud I am of my mother for taking the first steps to conquer what has been, for her, a lifetime fear. Truly, fear of flying is nothing to be ashamed of (John Madden anyone?), but taking steps to overcome a fear is a huge accomplishment, and I am so so proud of my mom for even considering it. Whether she does it or not, she rocks for trying! Yea!!!

And come on, everyone, all 6 of you, give my mom a little encouragement. Missouri is cold and snowy and icy and cold and ... COLD at Christmastime. She could fly down here, spend a couple days in San Antonio, and then spend Christmas, not slaving over a hot stove cooking a huge feast, but on the BEACH on SOUTH PADRE ISLAND (or Corpus Christi - we love Corpus too) eating perfectly yummy junk food and being WARM and on the BEACH. Hmmm, someone really has to think about this?

Toys

This past week has been one to show us - or at least remind us - that the best toys very often aren't. Specifically toys, that is.

For awhile now, Guthrie has enjoyed playing with rulers. Just plain wooden rulers, which he turns into a million different things - tracks for his trains, roads for his cars, bridges across boxes, ramps up onto higher levels, a pogo stick as he holds it and jumps up and down, a knife to cut play food, a sword to fight dragons, a gate for his trains, he uses more than one to become a fence, or to mark off a parking space for a bigger car.

The other day, my mom reminded me that the space shuttle was going to land, and so Guthrie and I sat at the computer, pulled up one of the news websites, and watched it landing. This piqued his interest in space shuttles (at least momentarily) and we searched YouTube for videos of shuttles taking off and landing (but not blowing up - skipped the Challenger). Then he asked lots of questions about them, and a drumstick became the space shuttle, with a ruler serving as the boosters which fall off.

Another drumstick was an airplane, and he showed me the differences in how the two take off - space shuttles go straight up, while airplanes gradually ascend at an angle. But they both land (roughly) the same way.

We looked through my photo albums, and found a picture of me at the space center in Huntsville, Alabama, as a little girl, sitting in a model of an old space shuttle. He spent hours laying on his back, pretending he was in a shuttle taking off, flying all over the place.

Two cardboard boxes brought in from the garage have served as places to hide, a turtle shell when held on Guthrie's back, a cage, and a home for a Jack-in-the-Box, or I guess a Guthrie-in-the-Box.

Yesterday, I heard lots of giggling coming from the library, and found Eric and Guthrie sitting on opposite sides of the large low table, playing what Guthrie called "Bounce and Roll" with a new roll of scotch tape. For nearly an hour, Eric, then I, sat across from Guthrie sending this roll of tape back and forth, then putting it down and trying to blow it across, figuring out ways to make it roll on its side, roll in a boomerang that came back to us, using a doorstop as a ramp for it to roll down. It was delightful to see the joy and discovery in Guthrie's face.

We have been saving every cork from every wine bottle we use for some time now. (And since I am generally the only one who drinks wine, if you saw our collection, you would be convinced I am an alcoholic. I am not. It is a few years' worth of corks. And I can't recall the last time I was truly intoxicated - certainly before Turner was conceived.) When we visited a friend of ours a few years ago, he had corks, and his son and Samantha took a bunch to a creek and had "cork races." I took a bunch into the bathtub for the boys to play with, and said they were boats. Well, Guthrie put a couple in the "fish holding tank" part of his toy boat, and they were fish. He put a couple in his toy canoe, and they were people riding in the canoe. Another one went into the seat at the front of the boat, and was the person sitting up front fishing (and he reeled in a cork fish). There seems to be no end to what a little imagination can turn corks into. Thank you, Yellow Tail.

A large red plastic container, which up until now had housed extra sheets and towels (which we finally sorted through this week), was filled up with all the balls we could find in the house, and became an instant miniature ball pit. Both boys loved it. Guthrie then hid in the container, and insisted we put the lid on top for him to repeatedly kick off.

We have a house full (really, we have entirely too many toys, although most of them are variations on one theme - TRAINS!) of toys, and again, what the kids like the most are all the other things.

The Mouths of Babes

Great recent quotes from Guthrie:

At the post office the other day, after we'd been there roughly an hour or so, and everyone's patience (the line was huge) was worn thin, and we were quite possibly the only white people there, he looked at Eric and announced, loudly, "You are a Gringo!" Um, yes, Guthrie, you are correct. Thankfully, the reaction from customers and employees was loud laughter.

When things at home start to get really crazy, and I feel like my brain cells are disappearing too quickly, I jokingly threaten Eric that I am going to get a job. I said this the other day, and Guthrie protested, "Don't get a JOB! You are my teacher!" Melted my heart.

And on the phone with my mother today, when he asked what she was doing and she said she was watching TV, he told her she needed to give her TV to someone else (we recently gave our TV, that had been sitting unplugged in our garage for over a year, to some friends), because "it will make you fat again." (Not that my mother is fat, but she just announced that she had lost 7 pounds.)

I have no great quotes from Turner. He still doesn't talk much. Mostly he points to pictures of animals, plays with toy farm animals, and repeats "oof oof oof" over and over again. Because you know, cows, pigs, dogs, cats, elephants, birds, even dolphins all say "oof oof."

6 Legged Hell

The Six Legged Life here in the Valley leaves much to be desired. At least for me, at least right now.

Due to the rain (we assume) our backyard is again covered in fire ant nests. Two nights ago they weren't there, we were all running around playing and having a blast. Yesterday it rained off and on all day, and just a while ago we were outside again, and there are a ton of nests. A couple of them are really big, and one in the front yard is HUGE! Eric spread some poison, and so for the short term I don't feel terribly comfortable taking the boys out there to play - either they get eaten by fire ants or they eat the poison. Neither is a good option.

There was an enormous black bee on our mango tree, but I think he's just doing his job, and has never even attempted to bother us, so as much as I didn't like looking at him, we let him be.

There are bees everywhere (which I guess I should be happy about, given how freaked out I was at the reports of honeybee dieoffs all over the world a few months ago). One kept me from going outside for a few minutes. (I'm not about to open the door when there is a bee looking at me on the other side) And for some reason, lately, every few days I have a bee in my bathroom window. Eric kills it, everything is fine, and then a couple days later, there's another bee. Today there were several. Now, bees, I know, big deal, I'm not allergic, they sting and that's all.

Except ...

We live in Hidalgo County, where the first Killer Bees were found in the US in 1990. And occasionally, we do hear of people being killed by bee attacks. So I do admit to being a little irrational when it comes to bees, here.

The mosquitoes are gone, though, at least for now. And although today I found a goodness-knows-how-old half-eaten apple cinnamon rice cake buried in my closet, there were no bugs of any kind in there, thank goodness.

Shoes

Do all kids go through a shoe stage? I don't remember this with Samantha. Both of my boys, though, have gone through a stage - at about the same age (Turner is in it now) where they became obsessed with shoes. Have to wear them, even at home, doing nothing. Must try on any shoes they see on the floor. Love nothing more than to stand in Daddy's cowboy boots.

Turner is currently walking around with one shoe on. He brought it to me, and I put it on him, and he seems to think it's the greatest thing ever. Don't know where his other shoe is, but he seems to be having fun this way.

The shoes, btw, are red Crocs knock-offs. Guthrie thought Turner needed pink ones, but I talked him into getting red ones so that they both matched.

Fun

We currently have a plumber here. Why? you ask. Oh, just because yesterday, right as Guthrie was flushing the toilet, Turner decided to throw a Weeble into it. And I couldn't catch it fast enough. And it went down.

Turner threw another one in, but I caught it in time. Guthrie was absolutely hysterical. I thought it was all the way down, gone for good, too, and so after trying to calm him down, calling Eric, figuring out just exactly which Weeble it was that went for a swim (Baby Bear, from the Goldilocks playset), I did what any good mother would do - I took them to Wal-Mart. To try to find a new Weeble house, to replace the way which I thought was then on its way to the sewage treatment plant.

No luck. Not a Weeble to be found in the entire store.

So I looked on eBay. If the Weeble is indeed gone for good, then I will be ordering a replacement on eBay. I'm guessing it's going to be around $100 for the plumber, plus another $30-ish for a new Weeble house. Very expensive toilet flush. Thank you, Turner.

To get a little work done while Turner is napping, I let Guthrie watch some Looney Tunes on his DVD player. He only watched for a few minutes, and is now running around saying, "Beep Beep," like the Roadrunner.

And we are currently under an Inland Tropical Storm Warning, whatever precisely that means. I think it means a lot of rain, some wind. Good times. It's bright and sunny and HOT right now. But more rain means ... more MOSQUITOES!!!! Oh, YEAH!!!

Oh, fun fun times these are, fun times.

UPDATE: Baby Bear is safe! The plumbers are Guthrie's Heroes!

Advice

to moms of young boys:

Don't let them share an iPod earphone set with a 16 year old girl on road trips. If you do, they will, as Guthrie has just done, walk into the room singing "My humps, my humps, my little lady lumps," followed by an emotional proclamation of, "Baby Got Back!"

He announced he likes the "Big butt song" (Baby Got Back) and "Barbie World."

He was singing the Chattanooga Choo Choo and other Glenn Miller. Now it's Fergie, Sir Mix-A-Lot and Aqua. What have I done?

41 months

I missed World Breastfeeding Week. I've been busy, with Samantha and Stacia (my niece, who will be 16 on Saturday) here, going to the beach, to Mexico, to the zoo, and generally having fun to take any time to sit here and write a blog.

I realized last night that I have now been breastfeeding, continuously, for 41 months.

Add in pregnancy, and I've been giving part of my body over to another (or two other) human being(s) for over 4 years now.

It's become so normal, so routine, that I don't know what I'll do when (if) Turner ever weans. Maybe sleep, and have a really, really, really big margarita.

We have a visitor

An uninvited guest. I've named him Gary, and I don't know why. I wanted a "G" name, and it was the first one that came to mind.

Eric says he's harmless, and will, in fact, eat bugs (which I've been watching him do), and so, right now, we're keeping an eye on him and letting him have a meal of our insects before kicking him out. These kinds of creepy-crawlies don't bother me at all - I only wish Guthrie was awake to see it. Isn't he cute? Almost?

Skeeters

The rain has stopped, at least for now. The weather report I just read had a warning that the Valley could get some pretty serious rain in the next few days. There is, however, still a lot of standing water in places, and that has caused a huge growth in the local mosquito population. And has caused the mosquitoes to grow to be enormous. I've never before seen skeeters this big, and on one of my legs alone I have more than 30 bites. (Yes, I counted. I'm weird like that.)

And so, if we want to go outside and play, we must coat ourselves in bug repellent, which I'm not going to do. But just walking to and from our van we get bitten, and if you leave the door open for any length of time at all, you have them in the house. We are currently rather miserable.

The boys are going completely bonkers. For a week we couldn't go outside because it was raining, and now we can't because we'll be eaten alive, get West Nile or Dengue fever (there are occasionally cases along the border), and that would suck.

So today I did what any mom under the circumstances would do: I took them to ... Chick Fil A. (You didn't really think I was going to say McDonald's, did you?) It was my first time ever eating at one (they don't have them where I'm from), and I figured if I was going to do fast food so we could let the boys play, well, Chick Fil A was the least of the evils. (Other choices were McD's - NO WAY - Burger King - no thanks - or Peter Piper Pizza, a Chuck E. Cheese kind of place) The food was, eh, okay, the play area small and without a place to eat while you watched the kids, and so overall I was not impressed, but it did salvage a little of my sanity. Just a little.

The good news is our banana tree is thriving in this weather. And our fire ants are gone (although everywhere else we're going I'm seeing mounds everywhere).

Any other suggestions for not going insane with two little ones when the weather sucks? I think all of Texas is dealing with some variation on this right now. I'm about to sign them up for the Little Gym, but by the time I did, the weather would clear right on up. *sigh*

Our House

... is a very very very messy house
With a toy camel in the potty
A toy diesel who is naughty.

And as I'm no Weird Al, that's as far as I can get.

Turner has finally decided to start sleeping better. He's now sleeping regular 1 1/2- 2 hour stretches at night, and naps are about 1 1/2 hours too. I know, for a 15 month old this seems like not sleeping much at all, but for OUR baby, this is amazing. I don't think Guthrie was doing it at this age.

BUT - Guthrie has decided to start waking up at 4 in the morning, sometimes earlier, on a fairly regular basis, or waking up in the middle of the night and being awake for hours. Thankfully, he has been kind enough several times to crawl on the futon next to Daddy, and keep Eric awake half the night while Turner and I just sleep, but it's still dragging us all down.

And then last night (this should be its own separate post, but I'm too tired, so it's not) we had visitors, a writer and photographer from France, who are doing their own sort of literary Alexis de Tocqueveille tour of America, and one of their first stops was way down here in South Texas to interview and photograph my very own husband for their project. Not too shabby. And we had a great time, but as such were up waaaay too late, and so the the 5:30 wake up call was waaaaay too early.

We were all grumpy, and Guthrie was sleep-deprived crazy. Turner was extra needy. Chaos was the word of the day. We (meaning mainly me and Rosalind, and honestly, mostly Rosalind, as I had a baby attached to me most of the day) picked up toys almost constantly. Cars, trucks and trains flew through the air. I really did discover a few minutes ago a toy camel in the potty chair. We went to our favorite local taqueria for breakfast tacos, in the early afternoon I napped with Turner while Guthrie and Rosalind watched a movie. Once Eric got home it was meltdown after meltdown after meltdown ("I want Goldfish." "You have Goldfish. Eat those and you can have more." "But I want those Goldfish!!!!" Followed by screaming and throwing himself on the floor. And Turner sitting in his high chair watching and laughing, then throwing his Goldfish on the floor, doing his favorite mealtime trick and feeding the invisible chihuahua.)

Bedtime could not, and did not, come soon enough. Another meltdown, over what stories we were, or weren't, going to read. Once he was laying down, though, the eyes couldn't stay open, and halfway through a book about pandas, Guthrie said, "no more," and was snoring in seconds. Finally, the house is quiet.

And it is still raining. I know part of the meltdowns are cabin fever from the inability to go outside, but even when it is not raining, it is too wet to be outside. And can we talk for just a second about bugs? A couple nights ago I was attacked by fire ants. I'd heard about them, been bitten by one or two, but this time I was attacked - my flip-flop wearing feet were covered, and it hurt. Today, in between downpours, Eric and I were in the backyard to check on the banana trees (and look for a pair of shoes that disappeared in our home somewhere) when we discovered a giant fire ant mound. Last night we had left the boys' room window opened (screen intact) a few inches, and when we went in there to turn off the light, it was filled - literally, there were thousands - with some sort of weird white flying ant-like creature. I don't like chemical poisons anymore than anyone else, but let me tell you, these bugs - fire ants and crazy flying things - gotta die. Eric sprayed the bedroom, shut the door so no one would go in, and this morning I vacuumed them up. Yes, I had to use the vacuum. And our front door was covered, too. Gross. The fire ants are going down tomorrow (if it stops raining long enough).

My head still feels like it is spinning, and no, I haven't had enough of my fruity green drink for that to be the cause. Maybe it's because Guthrie's new trick today was to lay down and spin in circles on the kitchen floor while announcing, "I'm a ceiling fan." Or from the circles I had to run today to keep the boys from killing each other (or me - I got pegged in the face with a toy truck today). Whatever the case, fruity green drink is helping, and the bed is looking better by the second.