For background, I had tried to sing to the twins as they went to bed and been adamantly told, "No singing. Moozik on." I had left the room. Whereupon the following was heard, many times over:
D4: Mama sing! Mama sing! Mama siiinnnggg!
D3: Jesus love me, he who die . . .
D4: No, D3! Quiet! Go sleep!
D3: I singing!
D4: No, Mama sing! Mama sing! Maaammaaaa siiinnnggg!
(Repeat)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Title IX
The older ducklings and I were watching this video of trick jump-roping. D2 noticed and observed plaintively that it looked like they were all girls.
"Yes," I explained, "Mostly it is girls who do jump-roping. Like mostly it is boys who do football. And some things girls and boys both play, but on different teams, like basketball. And some things everybody likes to play all together."
He brightened up. "Like Hi-Ho Cherrio!"
"Yes," I explained, "Mostly it is girls who do jump-roping. Like mostly it is boys who do football. And some things girls and boys both play, but on different teams, like basketball. And some things everybody likes to play all together."
He brightened up. "Like Hi-Ho Cherrio!"
Monday, May 24, 2010
Setting under the sails
We did not get the stomach flu this time. So we were at last able to take our trip to tour the Tall Ships when they came back to visit our side of the Puget Sound. (Well, sort of. It was still over an hour's drive.) Unfortunately, we forgot the camera. But you can see pictures of the boats on that website, and you can see pictures of the older two ducklings on this website, and just kind of mentally combine them. Just be sure you pick the happiest and most intent-looking duckling pictures.
The forecast was cool and rainy, but it turned cool and sunny instead, which was perfect weather for keeping up with D1 and D2 as they ran down in the hold and back up to the helm and over the gangplank to the other ship and down the hold and back up to the helm and over the gangplank again and again and again. If it was possible for them to have a better time, I cannot imagine how.
DOB had quite enough excitement just hitching himself around the boats once as they were definitely not designed to be wheelchair accessible. He also had a very nice chat with the captain of one of the ships, an online friend, after convincing the crew that he really did know the captain by producing his first name. The crew all dress in period clothes and stand about to answer the endless round of inane questions at each port, but they try to protect the captains, who try to stay incognito in modern dress. They still looked terrifically sea-captainish to me.
What I did was get seasick. On a tied ship. On a calm day.
We'd like to take a Battle Sail sometime, but I think I'd better get some Dramamine first.
The forecast was cool and rainy, but it turned cool and sunny instead, which was perfect weather for keeping up with D1 and D2 as they ran down in the hold and back up to the helm and over the gangplank to the other ship and down the hold and back up to the helm and over the gangplank again and again and again. If it was possible for them to have a better time, I cannot imagine how.
DOB had quite enough excitement just hitching himself around the boats once as they were definitely not designed to be wheelchair accessible. He also had a very nice chat with the captain of one of the ships, an online friend, after convincing the crew that he really did know the captain by producing his first name. The crew all dress in period clothes and stand about to answer the endless round of inane questions at each port, but they try to protect the captains, who try to stay incognito in modern dress. They still looked terrifically sea-captainish to me.
What I did was get seasick. On a tied ship. On a calm day.
We'd like to take a Battle Sail sometime, but I think I'd better get some Dramamine first.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Oops
D2: I never get anything that I want.
QOC: Yes, I do my best to deliberately thwart you at every turn.
D2: Why?
QOC: Because I am EEEeeevilll.
D2: Then I will not obey you, since you are evil.
QOC: Yes, I do my best to deliberately thwart you at every turn.
D2: Why?
QOC: Because I am EEEeeevilll.
D2: Then I will not obey you, since you are evil.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Oh, THAT kind of crazy
A couple of weeks ago I predicted that life was about to get crazy again.
Unsurprisingly, it did.
The particular form of craziness was not what I expected. (And perhaps even that is unsurprising.) I was expecting a lot of running around, writing cover letters, networking meetings, etc. We'd had one sample day of that, which involved a complete printer failure, crashed program that ate a saved file, and His Majesty impromptu babysitting for three hours while we invented creative new terminology for our computer equipment, and DOB making it by the law firms after all the relevant people had left for the day.
However, one of those people finally answered the phone. And when he went in to talk to them, asked if he'd like to do some contract work. So he's been working there since last Monday--it's less than fifteen minutes from here and about three minutes from the courthouse. He's had the chance to work on a variety of cases and is really enjoying it. It may work in to something long-term, or it may not; either way, it's perfect right now.
So THAT just seemed too easy. Clearly, something else needed to go crazy.
Obligingly, one of the bones in DOB's foot called it quits last Saturday. One of the bones in his *good* foot. And as one of those little things that boasteth great things, it has turned everything topsy-turvy. Since his bad foot can't be called in as a substitute, he can't walk or drive. Everything takes much longer. B5 drops him off at work in the morning, I pick him up and take him around to doctors and the pool and such. Their Majesties and occasionally Wondergirl do a lot of extra babysitting.
I've done more driving in the past week than I have in the previous three years. DOB is making tremendous strides in his swimming lessons what with the extra arm workouts.
The ducklings, undisturbed, keep riding their bikes. D1 has composed a song she likes to sing while riding bikes: "If we just keep on rolling/We can get from here to there."
Unsurprisingly, it did.
The particular form of craziness was not what I expected. (And perhaps even that is unsurprising.) I was expecting a lot of running around, writing cover letters, networking meetings, etc. We'd had one sample day of that, which involved a complete printer failure, crashed program that ate a saved file, and His Majesty impromptu babysitting for three hours while we invented creative new terminology for our computer equipment, and DOB making it by the law firms after all the relevant people had left for the day.
However, one of those people finally answered the phone. And when he went in to talk to them, asked if he'd like to do some contract work. So he's been working there since last Monday--it's less than fifteen minutes from here and about three minutes from the courthouse. He's had the chance to work on a variety of cases and is really enjoying it. It may work in to something long-term, or it may not; either way, it's perfect right now.
So THAT just seemed too easy. Clearly, something else needed to go crazy.
Obligingly, one of the bones in DOB's foot called it quits last Saturday. One of the bones in his *good* foot. And as one of those little things that boasteth great things, it has turned everything topsy-turvy. Since his bad foot can't be called in as a substitute, he can't walk or drive. Everything takes much longer. B5 drops him off at work in the morning, I pick him up and take him around to doctors and the pool and such. Their Majesties and occasionally Wondergirl do a lot of extra babysitting.
I've done more driving in the past week than I have in the previous three years. DOB is making tremendous strides in his swimming lessons what with the extra arm workouts.
The ducklings, undisturbed, keep riding their bikes. D1 has composed a song she likes to sing while riding bikes: "If we just keep on rolling/We can get from here to there."
Monday, May 10, 2010
Perfectly Messy
Last week I read a book entitled A Perfect Mess, on the underappreciated virtues of disorder.
My siblings questioned whether I needed to read such a book. Probably not. Still, it is fun to find sympathy for one's philosophy.
There are, of course, dysfunctional levels of disorder--if you die under cascades of old magazines, for instance.
But there are also dysfunctional levels of order, and the mental image of the magazine-perfect house as something we all ought to attain, or at least aspire to, is probably doing us more harm than good. As anyone who has sold a house can tell you, maintaining a house in that kind of condition is highly dysfunctional for family life or, indeed, doing anything with one's life except cleaning house.
Similarly, too much long-range planning and rigid adherence to schedules and efficiency can leave us without time or resilience for the unexpected, or for examining what the use is of all those things we are doing so efficiently. DOB and I have realized, looking back, that most of the decisions we made that turned out badly were ones we made while trying to look long-term. Not being psychic, our long-term predictions usually turned out wrong, and in the meantime we had made a decision that was not so helpful for the present, either.
Some people just naturally are neater and more organized, and this is fine. However, some of us are naturally a bit more scattered, and have found ways to make it work very well for us. My laundry system when the twins were babies, for instance, consisted of splitting the family up into pairs, having a hamper for each, running each hamper through the laundry and then into its own basket, and thus never having to sort, fold, or put away laundry, while still not wasting much time hunting for lost socks.
Now that the twins are toddlers, it is more efficient to spend ten minutes every few days folding and putting away laundry than it would be to hunt down missing socks from under all the furniture and persuade D3 to take people's underwear off her head. Instead, I give a lot less attention to stuff left on the floor.
Toddlers are expert randomizers, and although I like to clean up every now and again, I've discovered it usually means we spend MORE time hunting for lost items, because instead of everything lying out in plain view, during the pickup session someone helpfully "put away" their shoes in a toy bin or their water bottle in the closet.
When I do decide it's time to clean up, we get out a couple of laundry baskets (laundry baskets are a great semi-messy organizing device), toss everything on the floor into the baskets, sweep and vacuum. I put the baskets up high where I can sort through them at leisure. Then we can play "Ring Around the Rosie" on the newly-clean floor and then relax as the living room gradually becomes converted back into a store/castle/library/campground.
It's helpful to remember that we owe penicillin to Alexander Fleming's messy laboratory, and (this one wasn't mentioned in the book) Horton Hatches an Egg to Dr. Seuss's messy desk. Mess is a great place for discovery. As long as nobody dies.
My siblings questioned whether I needed to read such a book. Probably not. Still, it is fun to find sympathy for one's philosophy.
There are, of course, dysfunctional levels of disorder--if you die under cascades of old magazines, for instance.
But there are also dysfunctional levels of order, and the mental image of the magazine-perfect house as something we all ought to attain, or at least aspire to, is probably doing us more harm than good. As anyone who has sold a house can tell you, maintaining a house in that kind of condition is highly dysfunctional for family life or, indeed, doing anything with one's life except cleaning house.
Similarly, too much long-range planning and rigid adherence to schedules and efficiency can leave us without time or resilience for the unexpected, or for examining what the use is of all those things we are doing so efficiently. DOB and I have realized, looking back, that most of the decisions we made that turned out badly were ones we made while trying to look long-term. Not being psychic, our long-term predictions usually turned out wrong, and in the meantime we had made a decision that was not so helpful for the present, either.
Some people just naturally are neater and more organized, and this is fine. However, some of us are naturally a bit more scattered, and have found ways to make it work very well for us. My laundry system when the twins were babies, for instance, consisted of splitting the family up into pairs, having a hamper for each, running each hamper through the laundry and then into its own basket, and thus never having to sort, fold, or put away laundry, while still not wasting much time hunting for lost socks.
Now that the twins are toddlers, it is more efficient to spend ten minutes every few days folding and putting away laundry than it would be to hunt down missing socks from under all the furniture and persuade D3 to take people's underwear off her head. Instead, I give a lot less attention to stuff left on the floor.
Toddlers are expert randomizers, and although I like to clean up every now and again, I've discovered it usually means we spend MORE time hunting for lost items, because instead of everything lying out in plain view, during the pickup session someone helpfully "put away" their shoes in a toy bin or their water bottle in the closet.
When I do decide it's time to clean up, we get out a couple of laundry baskets (laundry baskets are a great semi-messy organizing device), toss everything on the floor into the baskets, sweep and vacuum. I put the baskets up high where I can sort through them at leisure. Then we can play "Ring Around the Rosie" on the newly-clean floor and then relax as the living room gradually becomes converted back into a store/castle/library/campground.
It's helpful to remember that we owe penicillin to Alexander Fleming's messy laboratory, and (this one wasn't mentioned in the book) Horton Hatches an Egg to Dr. Seuss's messy desk. Mess is a great place for discovery. As long as nobody dies.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Seven Quick Takes Friday
1. DOB got sworn in yesterday. They don't have a general swearing-in ceremony here like in the bigger counties--you just call the courthouse and they have a judge with a quiet calendar do it. You get to practice actually walking up to the bar. Just in case you found that hard. Now he just has to finish all the rest of the paperwork and wait for his card.
2. The twins are far more keyed in to their surroundings than the older kids, and so they are having a great time watching animals outside. (While D2 just stands there--"Where? Where is it? I don't see it!"--and yes, I have informally checked his vision, he can see distant things fine, it just takes him a loooong time to switch gears or make sense of the outside world.) Their favorite, by far, is the slug. Any time they see one, they stop and watch it, fascinated, pointing "That way! There it goes! Bye-bye, slug!" Since there are banana slugs, D1 has concluded that the darker-colored ones are chocolate slugs.
3. Rocketboy (or should he now be Copterboy?) is home for a week or so before he heads out to Afghanistan. He came over for spaghetti last night and I think three out of four of the ducklings out-ate him. This is not encouraging.
4. Techboy and family close on the sale of their house next week, and are moving to the Farm until they get their house built. This should make it even easier for the cousins to get together.
5. D2 has been having outbreaks of random itchiness. I have been trying to write down what he eats to see if I can find a cause, but I have also tried cutting way back on his sugar consumption, which had been creeping upwards, and he hasn't had any since. So I'm going to suspect it is excess sugar, which is nice because it doesn't require reworking everyone's menus to avoid.
6. However, in defense of D2's ability to make sense of the outside world, he discovered gravity the other day. "Why is it," he asked, "that when I let go of things, they always fall down? Why don't they fly up in the air, instead?" We then had a discussion on things that do fly up in the air, but I tried to refrain from giving him any pat answers. I still have hopes of seeing him turn into a physicist. Or something.
7. We had to take the blind down in the duckling's room because it had a string we could not make safe. This was fine in the winter, but now that sunrise is at five-thirty or thereabouts, the kids were waking up WAY too early. Her majesty improvised a curtain out of shower rings, safety pins, and denim, which keeps the room adequately dark and can be taken apart into component parts once the children are no longer in that room. And now blissful silence reigns until 7 or 8 again.
Oh, and bonus points: Happy Birthday to DOB! Also it's Law Day! Coincidence?
More Quick Takes.
2. The twins are far more keyed in to their surroundings than the older kids, and so they are having a great time watching animals outside. (While D2 just stands there--"Where? Where is it? I don't see it!"--and yes, I have informally checked his vision, he can see distant things fine, it just takes him a loooong time to switch gears or make sense of the outside world.) Their favorite, by far, is the slug. Any time they see one, they stop and watch it, fascinated, pointing "That way! There it goes! Bye-bye, slug!" Since there are banana slugs, D1 has concluded that the darker-colored ones are chocolate slugs.
3. Rocketboy (or should he now be Copterboy?) is home for a week or so before he heads out to Afghanistan. He came over for spaghetti last night and I think three out of four of the ducklings out-ate him. This is not encouraging.
4. Techboy and family close on the sale of their house next week, and are moving to the Farm until they get their house built. This should make it even easier for the cousins to get together.
5. D2 has been having outbreaks of random itchiness. I have been trying to write down what he eats to see if I can find a cause, but I have also tried cutting way back on his sugar consumption, which had been creeping upwards, and he hasn't had any since. So I'm going to suspect it is excess sugar, which is nice because it doesn't require reworking everyone's menus to avoid.
6. However, in defense of D2's ability to make sense of the outside world, he discovered gravity the other day. "Why is it," he asked, "that when I let go of things, they always fall down? Why don't they fly up in the air, instead?" We then had a discussion on things that do fly up in the air, but I tried to refrain from giving him any pat answers. I still have hopes of seeing him turn into a physicist. Or something.
7. We had to take the blind down in the duckling's room because it had a string we could not make safe. This was fine in the winter, but now that sunrise is at five-thirty or thereabouts, the kids were waking up WAY too early. Her majesty improvised a curtain out of shower rings, safety pins, and denim, which keeps the room adequately dark and can be taken apart into component parts once the children are no longer in that room. And now blissful silence reigns until 7 or 8 again.
Oh, and bonus points: Happy Birthday to DOB! Also it's Law Day! Coincidence?
More Quick Takes.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Sunday, May 02, 2010
The Mysterious Alot
Has now been identified. And the Grammar Commando is pleased.
(I will add that although that particular post looked fine, the rest of the site would earn a very different rating than the Duchy, so be forewarned.)
(I will add that although that particular post looked fine, the rest of the site would earn a very different rating than the Duchy, so be forewarned.)
Saturday, May 01, 2010
The Envelope Please . . .
And today, DOB received the news that he passed the Washington bar!
Also, he has a contract opportunity at a local firm.
Also, the sun is shining (intermittently) and the birds are chirping (incessantly).
Also, he has a contract opportunity at a local firm.
Also, the sun is shining (intermittently) and the birds are chirping (incessantly).
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
What we're up against
The other night we had macaroni and cheese for dinner. It was actually leftover macaroni and cheese, but that did not eclipse its position at the top of the Toddler Food Pyramid. The accompanying peas, usually welcomed, were slighted.
When D3 pushed her plate back for more noo-noos, I pointed out that the peas needed to be all gone first. A few minutes later, she shoved an empty plate across the table. Suspicious, I peered into her bib and discovered she'd deposited all of them in her bib. I poured them back out on the plate and repeated the requirement.
The meal continued as I tended to the other children and chatted with DOB. And then, I noticed to my perplexity, that I seemed to be eating peas with my fingers. I looked down, and there was D3, quietly holding up one pea at a time and murmuring, "Here, mama" while I absent-mindedly picked them up and ate them. Once I noticed it, I realized it had been going on for a considerable time.
"Wait a minute!" I said, "*You* are supposed to eat the peas."
She batted her eyelashes at me.
When D3 pushed her plate back for more noo-noos, I pointed out that the peas needed to be all gone first. A few minutes later, she shoved an empty plate across the table. Suspicious, I peered into her bib and discovered she'd deposited all of them in her bib. I poured them back out on the plate and repeated the requirement.
The meal continued as I tended to the other children and chatted with DOB. And then, I noticed to my perplexity, that I seemed to be eating peas with my fingers. I looked down, and there was D3, quietly holding up one pea at a time and murmuring, "Here, mama" while I absent-mindedly picked them up and ate them. Once I noticed it, I realized it had been going on for a considerable time.
"Wait a minute!" I said, "*You* are supposed to eat the peas."
She batted her eyelashes at me.
Monday, April 26, 2010
A Breather
Well, the Evil Virus seems to have departed, or nearly departed, the premises, after infecting each one of us in slow, agonizing succession.
Surprisingly, about midway through the attack, but of course after I personally had recovered, all the housekeeping and child-wrangling things seemed to fall into place for me: we found a working schedule, I got on top of the toy mess and stayed there, and life, in short, resolved itself into a serene pattern (interspersed with handing around the bucket).
If my past life is any guide, this means everything is about to go crazy again. Of course, a closer analysis of my past life indicates that it is just the point where everything settles down that I deliberately undertake something crazy. Apparently I find functionality boring. But, with DOB's bar results only a week away, chances are good that things will change soon, one way or another.
A big part of the leap in schedule functionality has been putting the twins in their room to play for twenty minutes or so each morning. We have a singing time all together first, and then D1 and D2 get some "real school" time at the table. They are quivering with excitement over the arrival of *handwriting* books. This is my one concession to structure, because I think as much as they are writing on their own they should probably not be writing things backwards any more.
Then we go outside to play. So far we have not permanently lost D4, as he still likes to check in on me occasionally, but his obsession with going "Up the hill!" "Down the hill!" "Up the hill!" keeps us well-exercised. D3 tends to stick closer, in case she needs something, a newly discovered sentence structure: "I need up!" "I need changed!" "I need chocolate!"
Surprisingly, about midway through the attack, but of course after I personally had recovered, all the housekeeping and child-wrangling things seemed to fall into place for me: we found a working schedule, I got on top of the toy mess and stayed there, and life, in short, resolved itself into a serene pattern (interspersed with handing around the bucket).
If my past life is any guide, this means everything is about to go crazy again. Of course, a closer analysis of my past life indicates that it is just the point where everything settles down that I deliberately undertake something crazy. Apparently I find functionality boring. But, with DOB's bar results only a week away, chances are good that things will change soon, one way or another.
A big part of the leap in schedule functionality has been putting the twins in their room to play for twenty minutes or so each morning. We have a singing time all together first, and then D1 and D2 get some "real school" time at the table. They are quivering with excitement over the arrival of *handwriting* books. This is my one concession to structure, because I think as much as they are writing on their own they should probably not be writing things backwards any more.
Then we go outside to play. So far we have not permanently lost D4, as he still likes to check in on me occasionally, but his obsession with going "Up the hill!" "Down the hill!" "Up the hill!" keeps us well-exercised. D3 tends to stick closer, in case she needs something, a newly discovered sentence structure: "I need up!" "I need changed!" "I need chocolate!"
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
And STILL not what I was hoping for
The stomach flu still lingers like a guest who didn't ask for decaf, hitting us each in turn, and sometime in turn again. We missed church, we missed the next-to-last week of AWANA, we missed the last ship tour on this side of the Sound for a few months, and we've missed quite a few meals.
On the other hand, there are a lot of worse weeks it could have come on, so we'll try not to complain too loudly.
On the other hand, there are a lot of worse weeks it could have come on, so we'll try not to complain too loudly.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Not what I was hoping for
We had plans today to drive along the coast and tour an old-style sailing ship with the older two ducklings. Their Majesties were going to supervise the twins, and the day dawned blue and golden.
And I have the stomach flu. DOB has it more mildly, and D1 fell asleep at 10 and napped for two and a half hours, which is about as much sickness as she ever manifests. So far everyone else is perfectly well and very noisy. I lie about and moan faintly occasionally. Thanks to B5 we have a new stack of books in from the library, so I have that small consolation.
We're hoping to visit the ship at another port next Wednesday. If I live that long.
And I have the stomach flu. DOB has it more mildly, and D1 fell asleep at 10 and napped for two and a half hours, which is about as much sickness as she ever manifests. So far everyone else is perfectly well and very noisy. I lie about and moan faintly occasionally. Thanks to B5 we have a new stack of books in from the library, so I have that small consolation.
We're hoping to visit the ship at another port next Wednesday. If I live that long.
From Now to Eternity
Semicolon has been posting the most popular poems from her poetry survey, and along the way mocking a bit the conviction of various poets that their words would grant immortality to the subjects of their poems. (Listen to the YouTube clip while you're over there; it's amazing.) The irony is, egotistical as they sound, they were quite right: here we all are, still reading them sing the praises of their long-dead loves.
Perhaps it is not just ego, either. For the whole point of writing a poem is to capture a fleeting moment and transform it into something permanent. We are always losing everything, every moment, and we fight to catch it and hold it back. No wonder life doesn't feel real until we have captured it, like the family Chesterton mentioned that felt their existence confirmed when their own suburb warranted mention in the Times. It's not even our life itself that we love--it's the glimpses it gives us of something more.
Which reminds me of my very inconsistent aversion to photography. The ducklings often clamor to have their picture taken and I grudge them, not just because I don't want to go hunt the camera and a fresh set of batteries up, but because I hate the thought of them suspending their involvement in what they are doing to pose. But perhaps they are, in a childish way, trying to do the same thing I do in words: they don't just want to climb the tree, they want to capture the moment of climbing the tree and turn it into something transcendent.
Then again, maybe they just like mugging for the camera. And maybe the poets just really do have inflated ideas of their own importance. And maybe I just blog because I'm in love with the sounds of my own keys tapping. But I think for all of us, whether we succeed at the effort or fail miserably, at the heart what we want is not just attention, but eternity.
Perhaps it is not just ego, either. For the whole point of writing a poem is to capture a fleeting moment and transform it into something permanent. We are always losing everything, every moment, and we fight to catch it and hold it back. No wonder life doesn't feel real until we have captured it, like the family Chesterton mentioned that felt their existence confirmed when their own suburb warranted mention in the Times. It's not even our life itself that we love--it's the glimpses it gives us of something more.
Which reminds me of my very inconsistent aversion to photography. The ducklings often clamor to have their picture taken and I grudge them, not just because I don't want to go hunt the camera and a fresh set of batteries up, but because I hate the thought of them suspending their involvement in what they are doing to pose. But perhaps they are, in a childish way, trying to do the same thing I do in words: they don't just want to climb the tree, they want to capture the moment of climbing the tree and turn it into something transcendent.
Then again, maybe they just like mugging for the camera. And maybe the poets just really do have inflated ideas of their own importance. And maybe I just blog because I'm in love with the sounds of my own keys tapping. But I think for all of us, whether we succeed at the effort or fail miserably, at the heart what we want is not just attention, but eternity.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
On the Road Again
Last weekend we drove down to Corvallis to visit our friends at Blue Castle Photography. Not only did we get a lovely weekend of relaxing and operating at little-kid speed (eat, go to the park, take a nap), but we got family pictures, too! They do an amazing job at capturing us at our better moments and getting everyone to look relaxed.
D1 especially reached celebrity status as their little boy, a couple years younger, discovered that she could read. It's roughly the equivalent of being able to drive to young teenagers.
On our trip down, we discovered that having older children does not always make for easier travel, as the twins are now much bigger, louder, wigglier, and less sleepy than they were last fall. And D3 has developed some susceptibility to motion sickness, although the traffic we had for the entire trip down would have developed motion sickness in anyone. We had more screams and moans on the four hour (well, actually more like five) drive down than we had in two weeks crossing the country.
Our trip back up was an easier drive, but somehow the twins managed to stay awake the entire time, D4 by sheer force of will and shouting, "Hey, Mama!" every three minutes. They have both reached the stage where they wish to converse, but find themselves short on topics. When "Hey, Mama!" begins to pall, they will often bring up the topic of cows. Which go "moo." And then they go "moo" some more. Chickens don't go "moo." That's about as far as the conversation goes.
Monday, April 05, 2010
Low Lights
"Low" is an adverb describing a lack of altitude, literally or metaphorically, with a broad variety of application: lowdown, low spirits, low condition, low temperature, low comedy, low notes. Use any and all such applications freely.
But please, do not ask "low" to stand in for the interjection, "Lo!" meaning something akin to "There it was!" only more sudden, as in "And lo! the Angel of the Lord came upon them." It wouldn't be nearly as impressive if low, the Angel of the Lord started talking out of gopher holes.
Nor does it make any sense to speak of "Low and behold." You wouldn't say "bee-hold" as if you were coddling insects. Just because it sounds the same doesn't mean it is the same.
But please, do not ask "low" to stand in for the interjection, "Lo!" meaning something akin to "There it was!" only more sudden, as in "And lo! the Angel of the Lord came upon them." It wouldn't be nearly as impressive if low, the Angel of the Lord started talking out of gopher holes.
Nor does it make any sense to speak of "Low and behold." You wouldn't say "bee-hold" as if you were coddling insects. Just because it sounds the same doesn't mean it is the same.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
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