Here are a few more random images

Art # 5

This is Rainbow Clown

and the other things are boats.

Art #4

This one is called All Legs and All Dots

I love that it is all legs and all dots, not just legs and dots.

Art #3

Title: Shoe Bug Q Oval

Description: a shoe and a bug and a Q and an oval

Art #2

This one is called Tiger Throat

Description: This is my cat hand with stripes, and this is someone's throat with stuff inside.

Phoebe's artwork

This is for Phoebe so that she has a record of some of the things she drew and how she drew as a three year old. Most of these pictures were done several months ago, but this way, I can save the images without saving the actual pieces of paper. And she can see how her drawing changes over time.

I asked Phoebe to title her artwork because that is what most artists do

This first one is called "girl skipping to the park and the beach and the ducks."

And here is her description of the picture, which changed as she went along:

"She skips on her walk. She's going for a walk to the ducks at the park with her children.

"It's kind of like American Gothic because this is a big woman, but it's not American Gothic because it's a little girl named Gypsy.

"This is a girl with woooong hair walking on the sidewalk and there's the grass with flowers and some more just grass and she's just naked walking on the sidewalk. I'm putting some clothes on her."

What happens in preschool stays...

That cliche is one of my least favorites, but it is so apt in this situation. We were talking about today's class when Phoebe told me "you don't know everything that I do at my school, Mom! Only what I tell you!" She was getting mad at me for asking probing questions to get her to tell me more about an activity they did with caterpillars. She is apparently very aware that school is something that is hers and she only lets me into that world if she wants to. Obviously, that is an important area of control.

lullaby

Phoebe was far from angelic today--in fact, she spent a lot of time in her room and in my bad favor because she can be incredibly stubborn when she wants to be. She is one of those people who will tell you the sky is yellow and the sun is blue just because she knows that is the opposite of what you want to hear. A perfect example of this is when my sister asked her to find the number 9 on a placemat. Phoebe didn't just refuse to identify the number. nope. She proceeded to point deliberately at every single number on the placemat except the number nine. Today, she decided that she did not want to participate in her swim lesson. It took her about 25 minutes before she would even get in the pool, and once she got in, she hopped right back out, because she told me "I am going to blow one bubble and then I am going to get out!" so that is exactly what she did. But I told her beforehand that she was not allowed to get in and out of the pool--if she got in, great; but if she got out, she stayed out. So when she hopped back out, she wasn't allowed to go back in. She had to sit on the bench with me and watch everyone else take their lesson. This made her very sad--or as she would say "very sad, indeed." So upset, that she sat on the bench and yelled "everyone get out of the pool. The lesson is over for everyone!" And other lovely sentiments. I sat on the bench and empathized occasionally saying that it is sad not to be allowed to do what her friends could do. She told me I was the Wicked Witch of the East. Much to my chagrin, I noticed several other parents sheltering a smile at the spectacle that is my daughter. One man even apologized for his little chuckle. These swim lessons have been a nightmare all along and quite the lesson in humility as most of the other swim parents probably think that I have parenting issues. Anyway, the day got worse with arguments and lack of cooperation at home, but--and there is a but with a silver lining--she was wonderful after her nap. She was cooperative and happy and she helped me make dinner. Brett has a terrible cold/fever, and after being gone all day at a track meet, he just wanted to rest and lie in bed. Phoebe wanted to be right with him, so they sat in bed reading stories for a while, and when it was time to go to sleep, I put Beckett in the crib and Phoebe in her bed, gave them kisses, turned on the stars, and pulled Beckett's little lullaby flower. Well when the flower ran out, he began to fuss, and instead of yelling at him or getting upset, Phoebe continued the lullaby and sang Twinkle Twinkle to him until he was quiet. It didn't take long at all--he began listening to her immediately and silence ensued. (They are in the same room.) While I was beside myself with irritation today, I also realize that I am so lucky to have such a loving, independent, beautiful little girl, and Beckett is lucky to have a sister who is going to blaze trails for him. (overambitious? maybe.) She'll definitely hold his hand and guide him, maybe a little bossily but overall, lovingly.

Ode to our Former President

As promised, here is another of my amazing poems. This one had to follow the rules of a ballad and had to include the words flip-flop and endangered. The poem is a bit more harsh than I would normally be, but I had to choose words that I might not have if I weren't trying to meet a particular syllable count or meter :) You wouldn't think it from reading it, but it took hours and hours to write, and Brett collaborated with me on the ideas--we brainstormed all of the things that we related to George Bush and then I included as many of them as possible in a rhyming ballad. (A ballad, by the way is traditionally about the demise of someone or something, so I chose the demise of the Bush administration.) And as much as I tried, I think I broke the most rules when writing this poem because I had trouble keeping my lines iambic--ah, well. Anyway, here it is:

The Ballad of 43

43 had great potential;
his daddy led the way.
Ivy education. No less.
Money was just for play.

All play and little work led to
battles with drugs and booze.
Too much fun with skulls and bones, his
exploits made the news.

But cowboy charm and pulling strings
got him out of trouble.
His daddy knew a few tricks to set
him straight on the double.

He made two important changes
soon as he got the nod.
He roved his way to politics
and then he found God.

Oil made him rich and powerful.
Everything went his way.
He even ran for governor;
elections were his forté.

“Why stop there?” he thought with vision.
“I have a right to bid.
I am heading straight for the top
just like my daddy did.”

By the luck of a hanging chad
he won his first election.
He became Commander-in-Chief
despite public selection.

His term began with a bang
An attack on his soil.
Ignoring the real cause, he thought,
“We must protect our oil.”

He answered back with great thunder.
Hubris got in the way.
“Mission accomplished!” he proclaimed,
but we’re still there today.

His ratings soared to 84
(but) plummeted just as quick
when the public began to cry,
“We are in this too thick!”

The people allowed for his flaws.
Again, he rose to the top.
Elected again with one phrase:
“My opponent flip-flops.”

Since then, however, there has been
crisis after crisis.
Katrina opened the flood gates.
That was the end of bliss.

Bumbling through with malaprops
of nuc-u-lar proportions.
Military ops are failing;
No plans for abortion.

Theological hypocrite,
his views make one wonder.
International terrorist,
tearing the land asunder.

Fuel prices reached a record high;
ANWR is endangered;
misery index has increased;
economy is bemired.

43, the levee’s broken,
and, unless you are blind,
acknowledge that your legacy
has left this nation behind.

Beckett's vices

"A is for Angry Ack. [...] His favorite snack is stinky socks with jam packed in the toes." from G is for One Gzonk

Like father like...

Working and playing

Phoebe Faces

Yummy! Sweet Potatoes

Mama

The most wonderful thing happened today--Beckett began saying mamamamamama as he was crying--and now he has done it twice--and he keeps practicing making the noise by smacking his lips together. It's so exciting! For some reason, I have not taken pictures of him sitting up, so I guess I should do that because he is pretty stable there now--except he did get a bruise this weekend because he was sitting on the bathroom floor when he leaned too far forward and went all the way down on his head--it was so sad. He didn't cry long, but I felt bad. He's too big/too mobile for his swing, so we took that down, and now he is enjoying sitting in his play pen. I put several of his toys in there and set it up in the middle of the kitchen so that he can play while I do dishes or cook dinner. He enjoys it until he falls over or lays back--then he gets mad because he can't right himself and sit up again. He isn't crawling, yet, but he has the desire to move, so I just have to keep providing him motivation and he'll get going soon, I'm sure. We had a great weekend visiting the Garfield Park Conservatory for their 'sweet Saturdays' where they provide facts about the plants that they have that produce sweet food and provide samples of those sweets as well. It was almost as good as the chocolate fest last year :) And we went to the zoo yesterday--I have never seen a zoo that empty, but it was extremely cold. We enjoyed seeing the dolphins and the elephants and the cats. My friend Kathy was in from Virginia and Phoebe was enamored immediately. She did not want Kathy to leave. I have several pictures to post but not many that match this entry--I'll have to get those up soon.

Six Months

Beckett is six months today, but I don't have any vitals on him because we haven't done the measurements, yet. He is wonderful, though. Last night, I came across this poem that I had to write for a class I took this summer. It was one of the hardest classes I have taken because it required me to write poetry. I am not a poet--not even remotely close to a poet. I love language. I appreciate poetry (some of it), but I do not write poetry or pretend to be lyrical. My professor did not expect us to be poets, but she wanted us to appreciate the form and understand what it took to write it, so we had to actually interact with the forms as opposed to just reading and analyzing them. And I give her credit, because I would not have understood how much crafting a poem takes if I were not forced to write them--and each poem had to adhere to specific rules depending on the particular form. There were rules regarding rhyme schemes and numbers of lines and types of repetition and syllable counts and meters and all kinds of rigorous rules that I couldn't help but break often. So while I am not a poet, and could never dream of publishing something that I wrote, I can amuse myself and others by posting the things I had to write for class here. They would not pass by poets standards, but they are not entirely awful, either. I will begin by posting the one I wrote about Beckett--before he was Beckett and things were very busy around here:



This poem had to be written in heroic couplets (I won't explain the rules, but in case you know what it is, you can see if I complied :))

Waiting

The visit begins the same way each time:
check weight (don’t look), blood pressure, vital signs.

The stethoscope is cold without remorse.
The doctor’s bedside manner could be less coarse.

Anticipation overtakes her mind
when doctor plays the game of seek and find.

With fingers crossed, she waits to hear the beat.
Its steady rhythm makes her tap her feet.

Da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum
fills her with calm awaiting what may come.

His health assured she breathes a heavy sigh,
and wonders still, what can go awry.

No peace of mind until the day arrives
when baby boy shows up to change their lives.

The passing days are filled with nervousness:
expanding space, eliminating mess.

The child is coming sooner than she thinks.
She wonders what will happen when she blinks.

Her anxiousness will finally subside
as sounds of congratulations are cried.

How cuddly is Phoebe

Phoebe is funny and interesting and engaging and giggly and sassy and stubborn and inquisitive and chatty and loving and determined and many other things, but cuddly, she is not--as clearly evidenced by her two favorite dolls affectionately known as Dora and The Head (who sometimes goes by Katie or Sarah depending on Phoebe's mood, but usually just "The Head" and is exactly what you think it is)

Both dolls are of the hard plastic variety, yet she chooses to sleep with them rather than, say, a soft, nuzzle-friendly stuffed animal (of which she has too many to count).

A little more about Dora and The Head (who I'll refer to as Sarah because she seemed to have that name the most today)--this is purely for my memories--Phoebe is Dora and Sarah's mom and Daddy Bear is their dad. Sometimes Phoebe says she had five or six babies in her belly at one time, so I think that also includes Froggy (who is not a frog at all, but a small baby doll that wears blue so is a baby boy and was her favorite doll--her baby brother to be exact until Dora came around, then it was Dora and Froggy, but The Head has inched out Froggy. He still sleeps with her and is always nearby, but she can't carry all three of them at once easily) Claire, and Baby Tubbles, and sometimes perhaps Big Baby (which is a large baby doll with a freakish face that is supposed to look 'real') or Shakespeare (which is exactly what you think it is--stuffed Shakespeare). Anyway, Phoebe supposedly had all these babies and like all good moms, she picks favorites, i.e. Dora and The Head, but will take care of all her babies when she is feeling up to it. She drops them off at school while she goes to stroller class and tells them "no, baby, you can't come with me. Mommy has to go to stroller class, but I'll be back in a bit. Be good." Hmmm, where have I heard that before? And today they all needed haircuts, so she set them up at the hair salon for their hair cuts--which she has been doing with them for the past two days. Could that be because Phoebe was supposed to get a hair cut on Saturday--her first one of her life--but was too crabby and unpleasant when she woke up from her nap to get out the door, so we missed the appointment. Now she is replaying it as if she had gone and obviously it was an important event to her that she is sad to have missed. We will reschedule, of course, but I have to be sure she isn't going to do the same thing again. And currently, Froggy is five months old--coincidentally the same age as Beckett. One of her other 'children' has a birthday on August 8--hmmm; and Dora's birthday was almost everyday for a week after Sydney's birthday. Dora is sometimes 4, sometimes 5 and sometimes 6. Phoebe sometimes forgets what age she has assigned to each child. Dora is usually 4. The Head seems to be 5. Five year olds get to do a lot of things, like drive and have babies. So we can see what's going on in Phoebe's psyche these days.

Beckett Five Months!

He's grown about an inch and added a pound in the last month. His latest feats are sitting up, if a bit on the wobbly side, yet; grabbing with precision; and he had a few bites of some pureed bananas this evening--which didn't work very well. He didn't dislike the experience--in fact, he seemed to be pleased with the taste of the bananas, but he couldn't quite figure out how to get the food in his mouth--he just kept pushing it out with his tongue, so I don't think he is quite ready, yet. He doesn't technically need food for a bit yet anyway. I just happened to puree a banana for the french toast batter that I made for dinner and had some left, so I thought I would try it.

Four Months

Beckett had his four month birthday on December 8. He's still healthy and happy! He is grabbing and exploring things intently. (Everything he grabs goes in his mouth, of course.) He tries to sit up but can't quite do it yet. He is sleeping fairly well. Some nights he'll sleep all the way past 3:00, but most nights he goes to sleep between 8:30 and 9 and wakes up between 12 and 2 for the first time then again a couple of hours later and about every half hour after that. He doesn't have a set napping schedule, but he likes a short nap or two and one long nap during the day.

maturation

Who are these beautifully sophisticated young ladies?