In high school and college, I took a lot of Spanish classes. By the time I was done, I could carry on a half-decent conversation in Spanish without much effort. After graduation, though, I barely spoke Spanish at all so over the years I've forgotten most of my grammar. Now I worry too much about tense and pronouns and posessives to say much more than "Dos margaritas fresada sin sal, por favor." and then I do so rather self-consciously.
I got suckered into a couple of French classes here and there. It just wasn't my thing. The language itself sounds beautiful, but I felt pretentious just learning it. The best result of those classes was the laugh I got when a college French teacher implored a very tight jawed fellow to "open your mouth. Open. Your. Mouth!" He muttered to her though his clenched jaw, "That's as far as it goes."
I've tried half-heartedly to learn German to impress the in-laws. But, hello? Could it be any more difficult? Die, du, deine....I'm already starting to feel light-headed.
For many months after the bug was born, I faked my way through her German books, stuttering "Schneewitchen und der sieben Zwerge" and I thought I was doing a pretty good job. But a few months ago, as I blathered on about "...Julia's dreirad, und teddy ist immer dabei", Bug put her fingers to my lips and said, "You don't read German, Mommy. DADDY reads German." Kaput.
Still, old habits and old languages die hard. I give the bug instructions and finish with, "Entiende?" I pat mis bolsillos, muttering, "¿Dónde están mis llaves?" and ask the bug for "Eine moment, bitte." I take things from little hands and scold, "Das ist nicht für dich."
Sometimes the languages collide and I end up using Spanish and German in on sentence. "Necisito una Löffel." "Este juguete ist kaput, schatz." I don't know if I'm the best language model for young ears, but I'm trying.
I do know this: if my girls ever need to send back their meals at a German restaurant in Spain, they can fall back on their mother's example and implore the waiter to "Vaya rápidamente, mach schnell!"
Monday, November 17, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Name that Critter
For the bug's 3rd birthday, my sister and neice gave her a very nice world map made out of felt.
To go along with the map, there are about 25 little felt critters with velcro on their backs. The idea is to put the animals on their home continents. Most of the critters are easily identifiable, like these:
Top to bottom, left to right, we figure these guys are a panda, giraffe, zerba, lion, eagle, butterfly, kangaroo, hedgehog, flamingo, rabbit, hawk and camel. Easy peasy, right? There are some that are not so easily identifiable, like these guys:
After months of deliberation, we've decided that they are a roadrunner, moose (with really dinky antlers, poor fellow. OH! Maybe it's a reindeer?), crow (bor-RING!), and turkey. Believe it or not, that turkey took a LONG time to identify. Three college educated adults and a very smart teenager turned that sucker a million different ways before it finally made sense.
If you're counting, there are still nine critters outstanding. What the hell are these?
Now, we're not complete knuckleheads. We figure the grey dude with the tusks is a warthog. His neighbor is squirrel of some sort (artic, perhaps?), and the black thing with the horns and the white U-shape on his face is a bull. Maybe? But what is the brown thing with feet and a tail? A Darwinian pile of poo? On what continent does that live, exactly? Is his grey cousin on the bottom row just a cold weather version of him?
So, I'm turning to you, all-knowing internet, to help us identify these creatures and point us to their happy homes. Beacuse the bug has named the black-and-white critter at the top Boo-ba-dee and I don't know if that's its genus or phylum. Get to work. Name those critters.
To go along with the map, there are about 25 little felt critters with velcro on their backs. The idea is to put the animals on their home continents. Most of the critters are easily identifiable, like these:
Top to bottom, left to right, we figure these guys are a panda, giraffe, zerba, lion, eagle, butterfly, kangaroo, hedgehog, flamingo, rabbit, hawk and camel. Easy peasy, right? There are some that are not so easily identifiable, like these guys:
After months of deliberation, we've decided that they are a roadrunner, moose (with really dinky antlers, poor fellow. OH! Maybe it's a reindeer?), crow (bor-RING!), and turkey. Believe it or not, that turkey took a LONG time to identify. Three college educated adults and a very smart teenager turned that sucker a million different ways before it finally made sense.
If you're counting, there are still nine critters outstanding. What the hell are these?
Now, we're not complete knuckleheads. We figure the grey dude with the tusks is a warthog. His neighbor is squirrel of some sort (artic, perhaps?), and the black thing with the horns and the white U-shape on his face is a bull. Maybe? But what is the brown thing with feet and a tail? A Darwinian pile of poo? On what continent does that live, exactly? Is his grey cousin on the bottom row just a cold weather version of him?
So, I'm turning to you, all-knowing internet, to help us identify these creatures and point us to their happy homes. Beacuse the bug has named the black-and-white critter at the top Boo-ba-dee and I don't know if that's its genus or phylum. Get to work. Name those critters.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
You Got to have "Friends"
I don't have a lot of friends. I don't mean that in the "woe is me" way it sounds. I just mean that the number of people that I consider friends who I see or contact on a regular basis is very small. My friends are important to me. I love them and care about them like they're family.
The on-line world is a weird place for friendships. I frequently e-mail and Twitter people whom I've never met but who I "know" through reading their blogs. I look at their pictures on Flickr. I've seen their homes, neighborhoods, workplaces, friends and families.
My on-line friends are good for a laugh, a virtual hug, a "hey look at this" or "me too." I find myself quoting them or sharing details of our "conversations" with people in real life. That sounds weird, like these people on-line are figments of my imagination. Given my state of mind lately that's a possibility, but I'm pretty sure that they exist as actual life forms.
So what do I call these people? "Friend" to me implies a physical closeness, day-to-day interaction, a person who you've spent time with, who you can read and who can read you. I'd like very much to call some of these people "friend." I think I'd like to spend time with them, to have beers, to go book shopping with them or have a picnic with them. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they bring to a picnic. That's a subject for another time.
Sometimes I think, "One day I'll go to Canada/Arkansas/Amsterdam/Vienna to visit Jen/Belinda/Ingrid/Wolfgang and we're going to laaaaaugh and laugh and laugh and have a good time...." and then I wonder if that's a good idea.
Maybe in real life, these people wouldn't like me. Maybe I wouldn't like them. Maybe the on-line world is the best place for these "friendships" because the conversations are short, sweet and don't require eye-to-eye contact.
Better to keep the illusion of friendship, right? And darn it, it still feels funny calling these people friends. Have they earned that title? Have I? Wasn't it easier when we were five-years-old and could just wander up to someone on the playground and ask, "Will you be my friend?"
The on-line world is a weird place for friendships. I frequently e-mail and Twitter people whom I've never met but who I "know" through reading their blogs. I look at their pictures on Flickr. I've seen their homes, neighborhoods, workplaces, friends and families.
My on-line friends are good for a laugh, a virtual hug, a "hey look at this" or "me too." I find myself quoting them or sharing details of our "conversations" with people in real life. That sounds weird, like these people on-line are figments of my imagination. Given my state of mind lately that's a possibility, but I'm pretty sure that they exist as actual life forms.
So what do I call these people? "Friend" to me implies a physical closeness, day-to-day interaction, a person who you've spent time with, who you can read and who can read you. I'd like very much to call some of these people "friend." I think I'd like to spend time with them, to have beers, to go book shopping with them or have a picnic with them. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they bring to a picnic. That's a subject for another time.
Sometimes I think, "One day I'll go to Canada/Arkansas/Amsterdam/Vienna to visit Jen/Belinda/Ingrid/Wolfgang and we're going to laaaaaugh and laugh and laugh and have a good time...." and then I wonder if that's a good idea.
Maybe in real life, these people wouldn't like me. Maybe I wouldn't like them. Maybe the on-line world is the best place for these "friendships" because the conversations are short, sweet and don't require eye-to-eye contact.
Better to keep the illusion of friendship, right? And darn it, it still feels funny calling these people friends. Have they earned that title? Have I? Wasn't it easier when we were five-years-old and could just wander up to someone on the playground and ask, "Will you be my friend?"
Monday, October 20, 2008
What's The Big Idea?
I'm fresh out of episodes of MadMen and Prime Suspect so I might as well post. It's funny: I get irritated with "professional" bloggers who go a couple of days without posting. "This is your JOB. Gah." I mutter at my screen, refreshing, refreshing, refreshing for a new post that isn't there. And here I am, going WEEKS without posting. I'll try to do better.
Fall is finally falling here. The air is getting a little crisper, the leaves are collecting on the driveway and we have pumpkins on our doorstep waiting to be carved or painted. There's even a real deal pie pumpkin on my kitchen counter top waiting to have done to it whatever you do to make a real deal pumpkin pie. Me and my big ideas.
I have a lot of big ideas. Not much comes of them, but they are big. I have an idea for curtains I want to sew for the girls' room. But I don't own a sewing machine. And I can't sew. So.....heh. You see the problem there.
I have an idea for a new landscape design for our yard. I drew it out on graph paper with colored pencils and measurements and everything. That was five years ago. The plan is sitting in a folder somewhere, relegated to the "one day when we have money and time" pile.
I had a big idea for a blog. I was going to write fascinating, funny, heart-string tugging, insightful, thoughtful posts about parenting and children, work and marriage. Turns out: with an infant, a toddler and a full-time job on the graveyard shift, I don't have a whole lotta time to post. Imagine that!
I'm also at a loss for what to write. I don't want to exploit my family for post-fodder. But some of the things we experience on a daily basis are funny or wonderful or challenging and maybe whatever happens make someone else laugh or boost their spirits or just let them know they're not alone. That's ok, right?
What do you want to know? Remember, I'm not talking about my sex life. There are a bajillion bloggers who talk about theirs. I'm sure they don't mind if you wander over for a look-see. I don't talk about politics because, frankly? Who the hell cares what I think and haven't we heard enough already? Religion? See previous.
I have big ideas. What are some of yours
Fall is finally falling here. The air is getting a little crisper, the leaves are collecting on the driveway and we have pumpkins on our doorstep waiting to be carved or painted. There's even a real deal pie pumpkin on my kitchen counter top waiting to have done to it whatever you do to make a real deal pumpkin pie. Me and my big ideas.
I have a lot of big ideas. Not much comes of them, but they are big. I have an idea for curtains I want to sew for the girls' room. But I don't own a sewing machine. And I can't sew. So.....heh. You see the problem there.
I have an idea for a new landscape design for our yard. I drew it out on graph paper with colored pencils and measurements and everything. That was five years ago. The plan is sitting in a folder somewhere, relegated to the "one day when we have money and time" pile.
I had a big idea for a blog. I was going to write fascinating, funny, heart-string tugging, insightful, thoughtful posts about parenting and children, work and marriage. Turns out: with an infant, a toddler and a full-time job on the graveyard shift, I don't have a whole lotta time to post. Imagine that!
I'm also at a loss for what to write. I don't want to exploit my family for post-fodder. But some of the things we experience on a daily basis are funny or wonderful or challenging and maybe whatever happens make someone else laugh or boost their spirits or just let them know they're not alone. That's ok, right?
What do you want to know? Remember, I'm not talking about my sex life. There are a bajillion bloggers who talk about theirs. I'm sure they don't mind if you wander over for a look-see. I don't talk about politics because, frankly? Who the hell cares what I think and haven't we heard enough already? Religion? See previous.
I have big ideas. What are some of yours
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Thursday
Dear Thursday,
Why you gotta be like that? Acting all crazy and flat out nasty sometimes. What'd I do to you?
We used to have a good thing going, you and me. You were practically my favorite day of the week. After Friday, I mean. Settle down, settle down. You gotta know that Friday is everyone's favorite. It's just the way the calendar is set up. Friday starts the weekend. Friday is party night. Friday is date night. Friday is pay day. TGIF and all that.
But you, Thursday? You're the pat on the back, the sign that relief is close, the appetizer to the weekend's main course. Thursday means the weekend is so close. Hang in there, baby! It's Thursday! Hey, it's Thursday, wanna get a jump start on the weekend? Thursday, YOU are the beacon of light in a long week.
Except for me. Technically you're my Tuesday. Now, now...I know Tuesday is the weakling on the calendar. Nobody thinks twice about Tuesday. "Whatcha doin' Tuesday?" "Nothin'." And it's not my fault, really. I had nothing to do with screwing up the week like that. Believe me, I want things back to the way they used to be but it's not up to me. For now, to me anyway, you're Tuesday. I'm sorry, sugar, that's just the way it has to be. At least you're not Wednesday. Wednesday has become my Monday and NOBODY likes Monday. Think how Wednesday feels. See. You got it pretty good.
So why gotta act like that, Thursday? By the time I'm done with you I want to eat my weight in chocolate, break shit, lay on the floor and cry. Seriously. Can't we just have a normal day together? One that doesn't involve illness or sleepless babies or cantankerous toddlers? I know, I know...I'm not blaming it all on you. Some of this is my fault, but day-um. EVERY THURSDAY ends in tears for somebody at my house and it's usually me.
Shhhhh. It's ok, baby. I didn't mean to make you cry. Com'ere. It's gonna be ok. I still love you. Everybody else still loves you, too. You're beautiful, friendly, never-hurts-anyone Thursday. Ain't nothin' gonna change that. Let's make up, ok? Wanna go get a burrito? The place up the street has a Thursday speeccciaaaaalllllll......
Why you gotta be like that? Acting all crazy and flat out nasty sometimes. What'd I do to you?
We used to have a good thing going, you and me. You were practically my favorite day of the week. After Friday, I mean. Settle down, settle down. You gotta know that Friday is everyone's favorite. It's just the way the calendar is set up. Friday starts the weekend. Friday is party night. Friday is date night. Friday is pay day. TGIF and all that.
But you, Thursday? You're the pat on the back, the sign that relief is close, the appetizer to the weekend's main course. Thursday means the weekend is so close. Hang in there, baby! It's Thursday! Hey, it's Thursday, wanna get a jump start on the weekend? Thursday, YOU are the beacon of light in a long week.
Except for me. Technically you're my Tuesday. Now, now...I know Tuesday is the weakling on the calendar. Nobody thinks twice about Tuesday. "Whatcha doin' Tuesday?" "Nothin'." And it's not my fault, really. I had nothing to do with screwing up the week like that. Believe me, I want things back to the way they used to be but it's not up to me. For now, to me anyway, you're Tuesday. I'm sorry, sugar, that's just the way it has to be. At least you're not Wednesday. Wednesday has become my Monday and NOBODY likes Monday. Think how Wednesday feels. See. You got it pretty good.
So why gotta act like that, Thursday? By the time I'm done with you I want to eat my weight in chocolate, break shit, lay on the floor and cry. Seriously. Can't we just have a normal day together? One that doesn't involve illness or sleepless babies or cantankerous toddlers? I know, I know...I'm not blaming it all on you. Some of this is my fault, but day-um. EVERY THURSDAY ends in tears for somebody at my house and it's usually me.
Shhhhh. It's ok, baby. I didn't mean to make you cry. Com'ere. It's gonna be ok. I still love you. Everybody else still loves you, too. You're beautiful, friendly, never-hurts-anyone Thursday. Ain't nothin' gonna change that. Let's make up, ok? Wanna go get a burrito? The place up the street has a Thursday speeccciaaaaalllllll......
Monday, September 29, 2008
Guest Post: Grinch
Grinch e-mailed this to me a couple of weeks ago. I thought it was sweet and he said it was ok to blog it, so here's his first official guest post:
"This morning, on the way to school, bug asked to hear some music. Without much hope of finding anything decent, I scanned the radio stations. Much to my surprise and delight, we came upon the first bars of "Hey Jude." As I always do during that song, I got goosebumps, and cranked up the stereo as I told bug that this was one of daddy's favorite songs by the Beatles.
"A few minutes later, during the song's rousing coda, I looked back and saw bug tapping her hand on her knee in time to the music. I still can't get the smile off my face."
These two have become quite the pair lately. Dos and Bug share a room. Dos isn't sleeping through the night yet, there's still a lot of crying going on. Bug has been sleeping on the sofa bed with Grinch so at least one person in this house can get some rest. When I leave for work in the morning, I use the light from my cellphone LCD display to check on them. Bug is usually sprawled out, taking up nearly every square inch of sleepable space and Grinch is scrunched up in a corner. They're both breathing deeply and sleeping peacefully. Charlie even curls up with them. I'm happy they're getting sleep, but jealous that I can't join them. It's all I can do to keep myself from curling up beside Bug and going right back to sleep.
Kids go through this "favorite parent" stage off and on throughout childhood, apparently. I had my days in the sun a couple of weeks ago. Now, I'm regarded more as the Evil Queen than dear, delightful, sunshiney Mommy. It hurts, but I can get over it. I'm glad to see Grinch getting the love and attention he deserves....and a lot of snuggling and hugging from his little girl before she thinks it's gross.
"This morning, on the way to school, bug asked to hear some music. Without much hope of finding anything decent, I scanned the radio stations. Much to my surprise and delight, we came upon the first bars of "Hey Jude." As I always do during that song, I got goosebumps, and cranked up the stereo as I told bug that this was one of daddy's favorite songs by the Beatles.
"A few minutes later, during the song's rousing coda, I looked back and saw bug tapping her hand on her knee in time to the music. I still can't get the smile off my face."
These two have become quite the pair lately. Dos and Bug share a room. Dos isn't sleeping through the night yet, there's still a lot of crying going on. Bug has been sleeping on the sofa bed with Grinch so at least one person in this house can get some rest. When I leave for work in the morning, I use the light from my cellphone LCD display to check on them. Bug is usually sprawled out, taking up nearly every square inch of sleepable space and Grinch is scrunched up in a corner. They're both breathing deeply and sleeping peacefully. Charlie even curls up with them. I'm happy they're getting sleep, but jealous that I can't join them. It's all I can do to keep myself from curling up beside Bug and going right back to sleep.
Kids go through this "favorite parent" stage off and on throughout childhood, apparently. I had my days in the sun a couple of weeks ago. Now, I'm regarded more as the Evil Queen than dear, delightful, sunshiney Mommy. It hurts, but I can get over it. I'm glad to see Grinch getting the love and attention he deserves....and a lot of snuggling and hugging from his little girl before she thinks it's gross.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Gotta Laugh to Keep from Cryin'
Before we had kids, Grinch and I would take long walks, hikes in the woods or trips to the beach and enjoy the peace and quiet. More than once, the tranquility was broken by the sound of screeching kid or wailing infant. Grinch and I would shoot glances at the "offending" family and mutter that people should keep their screaming kids at home or teach them how to behave in public. Harumph. We knew so much about kids before we actually had some of our own.
A couple of weeks ago we took the kiddos to a nature preserve near our house. When we got to the path, the Bug took off running, so happy to be in the forest YAY! Five minutes into the walk: stumble, bumble, crash, blood, tears and an early trip home.
Saturday, we tried again. 65 acres of undisturbed forest, paved paths, twittering birds, peace and quiet. Ahhhhh....hahahah! Not so fast! We got to the forest entrance and the bug was already whining. "I'm hungry, Daddy. I'm hunnnnngry." We tried distracting her, encouraging her, promising a fantastic picnic lunch when the walk was done. No. "I'm hunnnnnnnnngry NOW." Fine. Back to the picnic tables where it seemed like a majillion snarky, cursing pre-teens were milling around, grumbling and flipping each other off. She happily ate her sandwich. Grinch and I ate ours in steely silence while Dos dribbled Cheerios all over the ground.
Ok. Lunch is done. NOW we can go walk in the forest, right? Walking, no running. No running, no falling, right? Right. At the start of the trail, the paths go in two directions. We wanted to go to the right, the bug wanted to go to the left. She wanted to go to the left so badly, that she started crying. (Why we didn't just go to the left, I do not know. Quite obviously, parenthood has eaten our brains. I think we were "standing our ground." Knuckleheads.) She cried THE ENTIRE WALK. The serenity of the forest was broken with a low-key moan of "I don't want to. I don't waaaaaaaant toooooooooo." You would have thought the 1/4 mile stroll through the woods was the Bataan Freaking Death March for Toddlers. I even tried bribing her with an offer to run. "Wanna run? You can run if you hold my hand! Come on, let's run!"
"Nooooooo! You can't RUN in the forest! You'll FAAAAAALL!"
Grinch and I just kept walking, making small talk about family gossip, and glancing behind us to make sure the bug was still there. We thought we had a chance at calming the storm near the end of the walk when we came across a huge spiderweb and its owner. "Look! What a pretty spiderweb! And such a big spider! Oooooh, it has pretty stripey legs, doesn't it?" She smiled and nodded, her eyes wide though red-rimmed from crying. She quieted for a minute....which was Dos' cue to start crying. I hiked up my shirt, walking and nursing and grinning at how ridiculous the whole thing was.
Dos finally quieted so Bug and her wails of complaint had center stage again. The end of the path was in sight and she was still crying, "I don't want tooooooooo." She finally stopped crying when we were completely out of the woods (ha!) and Grinch was able to distract her from her trauma with a look at some petrified wood. I wandered around, shaking off the tension and wondering if we'd scarred the bug for life. She'd never want to go for a walk in the woods ever again. I was sure of it.
The car ride home was blessedly short and quiet. In the driveway, Grinch and I were unbuckling the girls from their car seats, still shaking our heads at how badly everything had gone. That's when the bug smiled and said, "That was FUN!"
A couple of weeks ago we took the kiddos to a nature preserve near our house. When we got to the path, the Bug took off running, so happy to be in the forest YAY! Five minutes into the walk: stumble, bumble, crash, blood, tears and an early trip home.
Saturday, we tried again. 65 acres of undisturbed forest, paved paths, twittering birds, peace and quiet. Ahhhhh....hahahah! Not so fast! We got to the forest entrance and the bug was already whining. "I'm hungry, Daddy. I'm hunnnnngry." We tried distracting her, encouraging her, promising a fantastic picnic lunch when the walk was done. No. "I'm hunnnnnnnnngry NOW." Fine. Back to the picnic tables where it seemed like a majillion snarky, cursing pre-teens were milling around, grumbling and flipping each other off. She happily ate her sandwich. Grinch and I ate ours in steely silence while Dos dribbled Cheerios all over the ground.
Ok. Lunch is done. NOW we can go walk in the forest, right? Walking, no running. No running, no falling, right? Right. At the start of the trail, the paths go in two directions. We wanted to go to the right, the bug wanted to go to the left. She wanted to go to the left so badly, that she started crying. (Why we didn't just go to the left, I do not know. Quite obviously, parenthood has eaten our brains. I think we were "standing our ground." Knuckleheads.) She cried THE ENTIRE WALK. The serenity of the forest was broken with a low-key moan of "I don't want to. I don't waaaaaaaant toooooooooo." You would have thought the 1/4 mile stroll through the woods was the Bataan Freaking Death March for Toddlers. I even tried bribing her with an offer to run. "Wanna run? You can run if you hold my hand! Come on, let's run!"
"Nooooooo! You can't RUN in the forest! You'll FAAAAAALL!"
Grinch and I just kept walking, making small talk about family gossip, and glancing behind us to make sure the bug was still there. We thought we had a chance at calming the storm near the end of the walk when we came across a huge spiderweb and its owner. "Look! What a pretty spiderweb! And such a big spider! Oooooh, it has pretty stripey legs, doesn't it?" She smiled and nodded, her eyes wide though red-rimmed from crying. She quieted for a minute....which was Dos' cue to start crying. I hiked up my shirt, walking and nursing and grinning at how ridiculous the whole thing was.
Dos finally quieted so Bug and her wails of complaint had center stage again. The end of the path was in sight and she was still crying, "I don't want tooooooooo." She finally stopped crying when we were completely out of the woods (ha!) and Grinch was able to distract her from her trauma with a look at some petrified wood. I wandered around, shaking off the tension and wondering if we'd scarred the bug for life. She'd never want to go for a walk in the woods ever again. I was sure of it.
The car ride home was blessedly short and quiet. In the driveway, Grinch and I were unbuckling the girls from their car seats, still shaking our heads at how badly everything had gone. That's when the bug smiled and said, "That was FUN!"
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