Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Doh!

I almost forgot!  This was one of the reasons I wanted to post things I liked.   These were my favorite childhood toy and I've been googling forever trying to find them again.  I finally came across somebody here who had some and armed with their actual name, I found a partial set on ebay.  Now that I've found a full set,  I'm going to order them, then force my children to sit down and relive my childhood.  While eating roasted vegetables.

Things I Like

As my daughter inconveniently decided to spike a fever at 11:00 this morning, my fully-planned-out day has been wiped from the slate.  Currently, she's lying in my bed watching TV and I will make lemonade by doing some blogging.

Now, I know you've  been sitting there with bated breath wondering:  What Does Janet Like?  And I'm sure many of you are wearing your WDJL bracelets and t-shirts, so here's your big moment.  Grab a pencil and some paper for careful note-taking.

Things I Like:

TV Shows:

1.  Battlestar Galactica.  And if you just snorted, you've never watched it.  And NO I'm not a big sci-fi geek (not that there's anything wrong with it), but I am captivated by this show.  It's a fascinating drama of people struggling with relationships and moral quandries that just happens to take place on a space ship.  As an added bonus,  this guys plays Apollo.  What more could a girl ask for?

2.  Gilmore Girls.  Granted, it's running its course and the relationship between Luke and Lorelei hasn't held up the way I'd hoped, but when Lauren Graham gets going, there is nobody like her on TV.

3. Project Runway.  By far the most entertaining hour of TV on each week. 

4. Amazing Race.  It's starting up again tonight!  I went through a big phase of watching reality shows when the genre started up, but this and Project Runway are the only ones still on my list. 

5.  24.  Yes, you have to scoop your brain out of your head before you watch, but its a thrill ride of a show.

Also worth mentioning: Scrubs and the American version of The Office.

And here's a book recommendation for you: 

Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials Trilogy  This is a fantasy series that's been out for a few years now (the third book came out in 2000) but I didn't know anything about it until I read an article in the New Yorker about Philip Pullman.  I just finished reading the final book last week and I found the trilogy rich and absorbing.  In fact, it's lingered with me to the point of making everything else I've tried to read since pale in comparison.  Now, all of you go read them so I have somebody to discuss them with. 

Since I'm being random, how about a cooking technique?

Roasted Vegetables.  Take a vegetable that you like, cut it into quarters or whatever size pieces you like (see how agreeable I am?), toss with a little olive oil and salt, then put it on a baking pan at 425 degrees and roast until browned on the outside and soft on the inside.  This is great for: sweet potatoes, parsnips, carrots, onions, brussel sprouts (yes, really), asparagus, squash, and I even had roasted turnips the other night.  Turnips!  Who knew?

All right, everybody.  Go turn on your oven, pick up a good book, and switch on your TV.  You can thank me later.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Now We Are Six

Last week Juliana turned six.  I'm not sure how that happened.  I spent three years struggling with infertility before I got pregnant with David and when Juliana was born, it took many, many months for the reality of her to sink in.  Sometimes a wave of infertility anxiety would wash over me and I'd have to stop myself and breathe and realize that not only had I conceived a second time, I'd carried that pregnancy to term and was now in possession of a baby GIRL, of all things.  Could God have been any kinder to me?  The infertility sucked and the PPD following Juliana's birth put a quick stop to any further child-bearing, but between those lousy bookends, I had been granted two perfect, healthy children: a boy and a girl. 

Maybe I'm the only one who does this, but when I think of my children, they are locked into certain ages.  With David, my mind goes straight to when he was two.  I was newly pregnant with Juliana and he and I were savoring our last months of togetherness.  This was when we lived in North Carolina and every day was spent with friends from our playgroup or at the play structure at Sonic (Juliana was nourished in the womb with many a tater tot and cherry limeade).  With Juliana, she is eternally 3 1/2.  David was in school full day at that point and with rare exception, she was my constant companion.  Every errand, every meal cooked, every cleaning task, we did as a team.  She liked nothing better than a spray bottle of 409 and a rag so that we could be Cinderellas together. 

Now, I'm not one of those moms who cherishes every moment spent with my children.  There were many days that I would've signed her up for Boarding Preschool.  There were days when I couldn't get her off my body and days when she refused to let anybody but me help her with things or even respond to things she said.  That relentlessness of need wore me down.  I had mental visions of her head and metal poles that I am not proud of.  But somewhere along the line, I was able to make a shift in my thinking.  I finally realized that nobody--NOBODY--had or would ever love me the way that child did. 

When David turned five, I had a rough time of it.  He was ready to start Kindergarten and the thought kept occurring to me that I was now obsolete.  I'd put in my 5 years of raising him and now it was time to turn him over to society.  He seemed so grown up to me.  With this second child, my filter is completely different.  She's still so little.  The expectations I had for David seem ridiculous to me when I look at her.  (I have a friend who says that first-borns are "practice children".  The overflowing therapy jar I have for David bears out the the truth in this.)

So, now she is six and I am heartened by the fact that she is not too cool to sit in a laundry basket, surrounded by her Winnie the Pooh stuffed animals, pretending to sail down a river.   (And to the two little girls in her class who told her she had chosen "a baby book" when she got a Pooh book at the school library: I will kick your little smart-mouthed asses and not feel an ounce of remorse in doing so.)  It warms my heart that she will still put on a purple tutu, beaded crown, and wings and make up a fairy song that goes like this:

Some people are born from the sun

But I am born from a flower

My name is Buttercup because I was born from a buttercup

Your name is Blossom because you just blossomed from a flower

And now it's time for me to grow wings

And now it's time for me to fly

I just make a little wish to my wings inside my head

And now I am off flying.

Happy Birthday, little girl.  Know you can always fly back to me no matter how old you are. 

 

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Toothbrushing X Tattling

The other morning, Juliana came into my bathroom to inform me that "When David was brushing his teeth, he just stood there with his toothbrush in his mouth like this and didn't move it around AT ALL."    But of course, this was tattling.  And we don't tattle.  But here's the thing.  If he's not actually brushing his teeth, that needs to be addressed.  Is there a formula wherein I can enter the variables and determine the proper amount of time that must pass before my addressing the toothbrushing is not a direct result of the tattling?   (Let's see: Rule Infraction divided by Tattling multiplied by PT where PT equals the passage of time needed to disengage the action from the tattling multiplied by pi...Mmmmm pie.)

Toothbrushing is an ongoing issue at my house.  First we have the problem of finding an acceptable toothpaste as  David deems nearly every single one "too spicy".  (And don't suggest the Tom's of Maine Strawberry because he won't use that either.)  Every now and then we'll find a kind he likes and they promptly stop making it.  As a result, he uses a microscopic amount.  Juliana swings the pendulum in the other direction and uses giant blobs of toothpaste on her brush, on the counter, down her front, and in the sink.  She enjoys the rabid dog look. 

Both kids think that standing with toothbrushes limply in their mouths asking "Ham Hi Hun Het?" for 2 minutes constitutes brushing.  There's nothing I like better than micromanaging toothbrushing.  I clench my teeth and use my perkiest voice to remind them to Scrub Your Teeth! and Move That Brush All Around!  Have we not been doing this twice a day for as long as they can remember??  (Next I'll be overseeing their breathing:  Fill Those Lungs!  Blow Out That Carbon Dioxide Now!)  And nobody can stay in one place while they brush.  They roam the house dripping foam (well, Juliana anyhow) and not actually brushing.  The toothbrush becomes a gear shift and mobility must follow.  Hell, the only treatment Christopher Reeve ever needed was to come to my house and have a toothbrush stuck in his mouth. 

Monday, February 6, 2006

A Little Language Lesson

Today a friend of mine used the absolute best euphemism for saying somebody was a jerk.  (I was going to use the word "asshole" there, but didn't want to upset my mom.  Hi Mom!)  In fact, it was such a great phrase that, for a moment, I didn't even realize it was an insult.  It was "I am not sympathetic to his journey".  Use it like this:  "I saw him struggling with all of his packages, but I am not sympathetic to his journey, so I walked right on by."

Saturday, February 4, 2006

Gooooo Steelers!

When the Steelers made the Superbowl, we came up with the bright idea of having a Superbowl party.  (When I say "we", I want it made perfectly clear that I was still in the throes of shingles and probably strung out on vicodin at the time.) In order to make it an actual party, I decided to invite people.  My inviting skills are REALLY good.  I did an email invite and God knows I love to email.  Turns out I invited NINE families.  And guess what?  They can all come!  So, now I'm expecting upwards of 40 people (half of them kids) tomorrow at 3:00.  I figure by Sunday night, it'll be easiest just to burn this house down and start fresh with a new one on Monday. 

 

Thursday, February 2, 2006

My Phone

I'm sitting here waiting for the printer to call and say the invitations for the PTA fundraiser are done so I can get envelopes stuffed. (I told you I had no life, Sarah.) They're supposed to go home TOMORROW and it's now 2 PM and no word from the printer.  I'm trying various means of staying calm, one being cleaning out the old messages on my cell phone.  Paying attention to my phone makes it more likely to ring, right?

Anyhow, I came across an old text message from my sister that reads: Oh my fucking jesus i live with the most insufferable troupe of baboons.

 

Wednesday, February 1, 2006

24

I am a latecomer to 24.  My friends Jen and Rad Chad got me hooked by sending me the Season One DVDs last year.  I was skeptical, but Ritu and I decided to watch.  Turns out one of my favorite dramatic TV moments EVER happens in the first season.   For five episodes, Teri Bauer and Alan York are searching for their missing daughters.  Then comes an absolutely chilling moment when you realize that the real Alan York is dead and stuffed in a trunk and the man who's been "helping" Teri all that time is in on the whole thing.  It was a great moment that left me reeling.  It also left me doubting the motives of every single character on the show since.  In fact,  it made me look suspiciously at my own family members for quite some time.     

Watching 24 requires a suspension of disbelief, but the action and adrenaline rush more than make up for it.  I totally understand why it's built such a following.  What I don't get is how Kiefer Sutherland is winning acting awards.  It's not exactly a nuanced performance.   Nearly everything he says can be distilled into one of the following sentiments:

  1.  We don't have TIME to __________.  

2.  It's a lot more complicated than that.   

3.  Tell me NOW or I'll __________.  

4.  You'll just have to trust me.  

5.  What is your primary objective?  

6.  BANG! BANG!  ::::sound of breaking bones and squirting blood:::::  BANG!  

But hot damn, I loves me some Jack Bauer.