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  • I like these guys. They're funny guys!

    First person to get the title reference gets a big, virtual high-five. (No Googling allowed!)

     

    In this post, however, I'm referring to Elsa and Clio, who -- as I was reminded yesterday -- are two very funny little girls. Exasperating at times, yes. But also extremely entertaining. Clio seems to actively try to be silly, with funny faces and noises and goofy antics. Her humor tends toward the absurdist. Last night at dinner, for example, she decided it was very funny to pretend she was asleep. 

     

     

     

     

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  • Tears

    On Monday afternoon, when we got back from our weekend in New York, I made the stupid (STUPID!) mistake of taking the girls to the grocery store with me. My mood had been plummeting steadily all day, to my disappointment (I'd felt much better the day before), and neither of the girls had slept much on the drive up. Given these two things, I really should have known better. Even Alastair thought maybe it was too much for me to handle, given how I was feeling. ("Are you sure you'll be OK?") But we needed milk and bread and bananas, and it was something to pass the time until dinner, and I thought maybe getting out and doing something would kick my depressed ass back into gear. So off we went.

     

    We'd barely made it halfway through the produce section when Clio started whining and crying to get out of the cart, then yelling for milk or water or juice (which I STUPIDLY hadn't brought). Then she started screaming for a cookie. Elsa, meanwhile, kept wriggling out of the seatbelt (it was one of those shopping carts shaped like a little car) and standing up with half her body out the front window like some kind of hyperactive labrador retriever.

     

    I was the picture of a stressed-out mom. I looked bad, I felt horrid. I could sense people looking at us, maybe in pity, maybe annoyance, maybe some in smiling, "how cute they are, but what a handful" sympathy. I wouldn't know -- I kept my eyes straight ahead, kept my head down, and told myself to just get everything on the list and get out and go home. And then what? Unload the groceries, keep the girls entertained for another hour and a half, make them dinner, get them to bed, make our dinner, unpack....(These sound like simple enough things to do, but when I am depressed, something as simple as brushing my teeth feels akin to pushing a boulder up a hill.) I half wished I'd collapse right there in the cereal aisle and wake up in a sanitorium -- maybe out in the Berkshires somewhere; the kind where they used to send ladies suffering from "nervous exhaustion." Birds singing. Clean white sheets. A rocking chair....

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  • A Hometown Halloween

    Alastair's hometown, that is, here in the leafy loveliness of Westchester county. We came down for the weekend, specifically for the unveiling of Alastair's grandmother's grave monument. She died around this time last year, and it's a (very nice, I think) Jewish tradition to visit the stone a year later. We said some words and prayers, and then the girls thought it would be fun to pick up the stones that we placed on Great Grandma's grave and move them to the other, neighboring graves and back again, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

     

    That night, we took the girls out for their first official trick-or-treating experience. Like last weekend, at the Halloween party, Clio refused to wear her tutu, so we had one ballerina and one modern dancer -- or perhaps she was a ballerina in rehearsal. More power to her, I say. And so, we set out into the lovely, suburban twilight, our family of four (Mommy had had a low day, but managed to rally) plus Abu and dogs, Aki and Niko. 

     

     

     

    More pics after the jump...

     

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  • Should I use my children for Obama?

    I've always had very mixed feelings about getting kids involved in politics before they're old enough to understand what it's all about or form their own opinions. As passionately as I want Obama/Biden to win this election, I'm not really comfortable with the idea of dressing my girls in Obama gear and using them as adorable little billboards for my political beliefs. (Sasha Brown-Worsham wrote a good essay on this topic for Babble a few months back.)

     

    Of course, a big part of parenting is instilling what you believe to be good values in your children. But I'm wary of going the extra step of equating certain values with a certain individual or political party. At least, I am wary of doing it to my kids. The way I see it, it's my job to teach them to be kind, compassionate, thoughtful, etc. It's not my job to tell them how, politically, they should act on those values, or how they should interpret them in policy terms. Being kind, compassionate and thoughtful might very well lead them to being pro-life for all I know. So, while I will no doubt discuss my political views with my daughters when they are older, I have no intent of indoctrinating them. If they become liberals, great. If not, well, it'll make for some lively dinner table conversation.

     

    But here's the more immediate dilemma I've been thinking about, which I'd love to get your thoughts on: I'm planning to go up to New Hampshire sometime in the next few weeks to do some canvassing for the Democrats, as I did before the 2004 election.

     

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  • We got them nanny blues

    Things were going so well. I got a little promotion at work, I finished my novel, Obama won the nomination, and the honeysuckle bush in our neighbors' front yard is almost in full, fragrant bloom. So, it was inevitable that something crappy was going to happen. And here it is: we just learned that our beloved nanny/sitter, Jean, is leaving next month. She got a great full-time nannying job out in the midwest, closer to where her son lives, which is where she wants to be right now. I am happy for her, but we will miss her SO much, as will Elsa and Clio.

     

    Jean started sitting for the girls when they were four months old, when I went back to work. She only comes twelve or so hours a week, during the times when both Alastair and I are working, plus the occasional "date night." But she's so great with the girls, so reliable, so helpful, that she's really become a part of our life, and we've come to count on her. (I still don't think I've fully processed the fact that she's leaving.) She's also just a genuinely nice person -- a great parent to her own (young adult) kids, focused on her family, generous, etc. When we were first looking for someone, right after the girls were born, I imagined that we'd hire some young college or grad student, not a middle-aged woman with grown kids of her own. But in fact, as a first-time mom, I really liked having someone who was more mature, and a mother herself.

     

    Fortunately, our back-up sitter, a very sweet and energetic young Ecuadorian woman (who I encourage to speak Spanish to the girls. Bonus!) is available to help out over the summer once Jean leaves. But she's in school, so we don't know if she'll be able to help on a regular basis in the Fall. So, it might be back to ole Craigslist again. We actually had good luck with it the first time around  -- we found both Jean and Adriana, our back-up gal that way, plus several other people who would have been good; there were mostly just schedule issues. But we also had to wade through replies to our ad from people who inquired with such impressive messages as (and I quote) "sounds good. how old r they and how much duz it pay?"  (Answers to both of these questions were in the ad, incidentally.)

     

    It ain't easy to find a sitter that you like and trust, who's willing to work part time, has her own car, is reliable and responsible and flexible, is loved by your children, knows and understands them, AND brings you free Avon samples. Sigh.

     

     

    Jean with the butterfly and the cow last Halloween (when they were 10 mos. old)

     



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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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