Posterity

I had two conversations with my son today that make me laugh. So I figured, what better place to document them?

I'm color coding for ease of reading and so I don't have to preface every line.

I was in the bathroom, cleaning. Cooper was in the office with his fish tank. To have this conversation at that distance, we each had to shout.

Mom!

What?

I'm sorry you were crying.

I'm not crying, honey.

Mom!

What?

I'm not crying anymore.

That's great, Cooper, I'm glad to hear that.

So we can go to Target and buy toys.

I don't think that's in the plan. If you want to buy toys you need to get a job.

I don't have a job.

I know, I said you should get a job.

Oh. Okay.

He sounded totally bummed, like summer vacation was over and now he's going to have to go back to work again or something. I think the thing that was so funny about this conversation was our distance and the volume. Oh, and can you tell we're having some "issues" with Cooper throwing fits and crying and screaming to get what he wants? Yeah, that's fun.

Then tonight as I was putting him to bed, we had this conversation:

Soooo, tell me about work.

Well, yesterday I was in Atlanta and I got to talk to some people about some stuff, and then the day before that I was in Dallas, where I got trained on the new data and that was fun.

Were you at school?

Kind of. Except when you're an adult, they call it training.

Did you have a teacher?

Yep.

Who was your teacher?

I had two. I had Julia and I had Kristina.

Did you like them?

Yes, they're very nice.

Did you take a nap?

[laughing] No, unfortunately we didn't get to take naps. I wish we did.

Wouldn't that be great? You have to go to a meeting or to training, and sometime after lunch you call get to pull out your blankies and lay down for two hours? Heaven!

- H

Mine

I had to get up super early today and head to the airport, which is where I'm writing right now. My life is such that I never need an alarm clock. My kids tend to wake me plenty early (sleep in, people!) but today I had to set my Blackberry for the dong to remind me to get up at 5:00.

While I got ready in the bathroom next to Griffin's room, I heard the sweetest thing.

In his sleep, Grif suddenly said "Oh! Yeah."

So sweet, those two words clear as a bell, from a child who otherwise has decided that one word is plenty vocabulary for him. Don't get me wrong, he has a few other words.

He says more. He says dadda and doggy and mama.

He says Cooper , although it comes out more like googoo.

Outside is a favorite word, although it sounds like owweye.

And then there's the word that pretty much sums everything else up for Griffie.

Mine.

Mine means, in no particular order:

That's mine.
I want that.
I want more of that.
Binky.
I like that.
Give it back to me.
Hey, take me over there.
Carry me, mommy.
I want to do something else, this is boring.
Can I have some candy?
I pooped.
I want to go peepee on the potty.

You know, I have to give him credit, his singular vocabulary totally works for him. We seem to know what he wants and he certainly isn't suffering from misunderstood-child-syndrome.

Except for when he really unleashes the "words" and you get a stream of stuff like blee do bah see blee blee my doh doh eee see yah.

It's strange to think that Cooper was telling us stories at this same age, in full sentences. I don't look at Griffin and think of his verbal skills as at all delayed for him. He seems to be right on track.

And thank God for a second child who is potty-training himself!

What if she's right?

What if happiness is as easy as a wire-cutter? Hmmm. Pause for consideration.

- H

My favorite French blogger is at it again

Ah, the joy! The giggles! I am sitting waiting for an appointment and chose to use this time to check in on my favorite French sewer-blogger. Once again, she has brightened my day with her insanity. She made a mathematical dress (??), matching jacket and "winter shorts," whatever that is. Here's what she says at the end:

I find with these mixtures of reasons, with these associations of colors a sweetened and chocolate side, and I like that!

When with my miss poupette, my small rat, as she likes my seam with me, she dances each time!

I wonder what she's talking about? I wonder if the French really feel like their children are small rats?

And yes, among dwarves of garden, happiness it is simple like a wire-cutter!

- H

Ways to embarass your mother - No. 37

Easily confused with No. 36, wherein Cooper proceeded to pee all over the floor in the front of the line at McAlister's Deli at lunch rush.

No, this one is No. 37 on the list, which as of yet has no end. I'm hoping it ends somewhere in the two hundreds?

No. 37 - Pirates Don't Live in Our Neighborhood

We went up to our little street park last night. It consists of two rocking motorcycles and two swings, and two tennis courts. Lots of fun. Oh, and the goat house where the goats, chickens and farm cats roam around, often outside of their fencing.

Cooper ran into his buddy Jack from preschool, and the three of them (Griffin in tow) proceeded to run in circles and scream a lot, which is basically what "playing" is all about these days.

One of the neighbors from another street stopped by the park while out on a walk with his daughter and their poodle. The kids crowded around the poodle (can I pet your dog? can I pet your dog?) and the little girl was super proud to show her off.

And then my son, the one who peed on the floor at McAlister's, starting running and screaming some more.

Cooper, at the top of his lungs - "He's a pirate! He's a pirate!"

I looked at our neighbor. He only has one eye, the other socket is stitched shut.

Mommy, hissing - "Cooper, please stop screaming. He is not a pirate."

Cooper, loudly - "Why does he only have one eye?"

Mommy, talking low but hopefully not embarrassingly low - "Some people only have one eye. Everyone's different. Stop screaming."

Oh, my.

- H

Is the summer over? Did I miss it?

I missed it. The summer.

This year, I missed summer! It has passed me by and I really don't know what I've been doing.

Working, mostly. And mommying. And wifeing.

June was insane. July was repairative (Angela, is that a word?) and August is almost over.

Every once in a while I sneak downstairs to sew a little. Not as much as I'd like to.

At least once a day I daydream about having another baby. Most of the time it's a boy in my dreams. Every time I think about it I realize it's crazy.

Lately I've been daydreaming about opening my own little fabric boutique with sewing lessons for cute projects.

Every couple days I look for new houses with my husband and our punk kids. Still no luck.

I'm sure as the weather cools - oh wait, it's cool today...scratch that - or sometime in the future, I'll be back to writing regularly. Thanks for sticking with me, friends.

- H

Rant ON

Ok, I'd like to rant a little right now. There is one company out there that is going to receive my wrath.

The folks at Kwik-Sew pattern company.

People, if I were a quilter I might be ok with 1/4" seam allowances. I am not. I sew clothes, and 1/4" seam allowance is not enough. Why? Because everyone who sews knows you'll have to fudge seams a little because of the second part of my rant. Your pattern pieces don't fit! This is the MOST irritating thing ever.

A month ago I ran across the grooviest vintage Gloria Vanderbilt fabric on EBay. I snatched it up and have been hemming and hawing over what to make out of it. At the same time I've been admiring the work on Ramonsterwear.com and I finally decided I will use some of my vintage fabric to make the most groove-deluxe rockabilly western shirt ever.

Enter Kwik-Sew.

Apparently, western-style shirts aren't exactly the most sought after style out there, but Kwik-Sew had a pattern so I bought it. Oh, wait, there was one more irritating thing - every other pattern company (even Burda!) routinely discounts their patterns 40%. Not Kwik-Sew. No, no, you shall pay full price for their crapbag patterns.

So I shelled out eleven bucks or whatever ridiculous price they were charging, and this weekend I started on my shirt.

I piped all of the pieces needing piping, cussing the 1/4" seam allowance the whole time. Then tonight I tackled the collar.

And I am upstairs typing this rant now because the collar stand is literally two inches too short for the shirt! I've double-checked all of my pattern pieces, wondering if I accidentally made the shirt in an XL and the collar in a XS. Nope. No such luck. The pieces just don't fit. [For non-sewers, the collar stand is the neckband thingy that your collar is attached to.]

So I threw the shirt down on the ironing table and stomped off. I'll re-create the correct collar and stand tomorrow, maybe. I'll post lovely pictures of my rockabilly groovy shirt when it's done. And I will never buy a Kwik-Sew pattern again!

OK, rant off.
- H

Rob Thomas is a nice guy, and other ramblings

First off, I'm sorry I've been so lax in writing. I think of things all day long, but I have little free time these days to put my fingers down on the keyboard and do a little typey typey. I haven't even had a chance to read my favorite blogs and see what everone's up to. Kind of cranks my pants if I were to admit it.

The other day I was listening to my radio station as I started my day, per usual. Lo and behold, there was a new guy with the old Guy and Courtney, and he was nice. Very down to earthy and participatory and not fraidy cat of being on the radio. You know who it was? Rob Thomas. Of Rob Thomas fame. He was doing a little live concerty thing, sang a bunch of unplugged hits of his. He really seemed like a non-ass type celebrity.

Then (yes, changing subject) I came across a French sewing blog that has beautiful pictures and patterns but my Yahoo interpreter leaves a little to be desired. Here's how they translated a recent pattern tutorial:

And here! Good, my poupette with me being in the average of the darlings of her age, any hold well with this method. If however your frog inherited the large legs its dad or your dindounette of the trunk of its great-grandmother, other measurements are there to enable you to lengthen or shorten the dress according to its own measurements…

Thus defer the top of the owner on your paper, with a front, and a back (the edge of the collar is a little higher in the back).

I laughed until my sides split. See? It doesn't take much to make an English major laugh! Just butcher the English language and I giggle.

- H