Fordham Miller Fare

sad

earlier in the year, madeleine struck up a new friendship with a boy in her class.  classroom crushes are nothing new to madeleine.  she has had one about every year she's been in school.  in kindergarten, her crush led to wild disappointment when the young gentleman in question settled in enough to take up with the boys and leave her in the dust.  all summer when we encountered this boy, bill coached madeleine on the art of 'playing it cool.'  it worked, and in no time she was a pro at handling rejection.

this time, when things came to an end, it was not madeleine but i that was crushed.  she and this boy had been such sweet and smitten friends, it was somewhat astonishing to witness.  (i also especially appreciated the fact that their playdates were not fraught with the hysteria and tantrums that are so often a part of her playdates with girls.) i was sure that this would send her on her way to a solid understanding of what a healthy loving relationship is. i mean, she is only 9, and of course it was only a puppy dog kinda crush, but she's always been precocious, and i couldn't help but be buoyed by their mutal affection.  we even went to a family contra dance together. i foolishly thought it was forever.

of course it wasn't forever, and while i tried to smooth over the rough edges of whatever slight precipitated the end, it was all for naught.  it's a done deal.  she's moved on.  for what it's worth, it appears it's a mutual split.

but the other day, when i was furiously cleaning her room in a particularly angry and fragile state (see previous post on entropy and baby powder), i saw that she had tossed out an envelope that had once contained several baseball cards, sent by the boy in question early in their infatuation.  the sight of it in the garbage can, the third grade handwriting, the sentiment behind it, brought me to tears.

entropy

it is the broken door to the dryer when you decide it would be labor-saving to send your daughter down to get the socks from the dryer herself.

it is the bag of frozen peas which collapses on itself and sends its contents on the kitchen floor not once, but twice.

it is the pair of used skates, purchased for 2.99 at the thrift shop 3 years ago, that had finally come into good use, only to be purloined by someone at public skating hour, while you were trying to find 25 ways to stay busy during february 'vacation.'

it is every book your daughter owns, deposited on a sum total of every square inch of your living space, every day.

it is what makes you say, 'sure,' when five minutes into the electrician's visit your kids ask you if they can do 'an experiment,' and when you brain checks in to what you actually agreed to, you find them behind the closed bathroom door with a mysterious concoction of desitin and fish tank chemicals.

it is the lost ski glove in Target, for god's sake, the cleanest store in the world, that is not in any aisle you traversed, nor in in the lost and found, even though you know you just lost it.

it is the only word you can use to describe the aftermath of two kids, one room, a closed door. and a bottle of baby powder.

it is the computer that f***s with you when you try to synthesize the thoughts that have been rattling about in your brain for the last week.

thoughts in no particular order

• green silly putty is hard to get out of bedsheets
• getting green silly putty out of bedsheets is not a productive use of my time
• i did not use WD-40 to get green silly putty out of the bedsheets
• remind me to tell you my patented method of getting silly putty out of bedsheets
• there should be a special place in hell for the makers of green silly putty.
• chocolate croissants are probably not the best way to end an exercise walk
• then again...  mmmmm.  chocolate croissants.
• beer: vacation in a bottle
• if i could skip sleeping for four days, i'm sure i could get all caught up
• should i buy another Tivo?  for the bedroom tv.  which is really small.
• news flash: morgan can dogpaddle, according to his dad.
• according to morgan, morgan cannot dogpaddle.
• i threw my back out in yoga
• yes, that's right, i threw my back out in yoga.  but i recovered by the end of class.
• that was the second time i threw my back out in yoga
• a garlic clove between the cheek and gum can help fend off a tooth ache
• a garlic clove between the cheek and gum can help fend off anybody who comes near you
• a garlic clove between the cheek and gum makes the gum sore
• when i make a sandwich with onions, morgan can smell the onions on my fingers three hours later
• my kids don't understand why i want them to leave me alone after 8 p.m.
• or, my kids don't care that i want them to leave me alone after 8 p.m.
• maddy nagged pestered drove me to within an inch of my sanity begging me to bring her heated thermapaq to her in bed after 8 p.m.
• i threw the thermapaq.  i am not proud.  neither are these folks.

stroller envy

is it october already?  i'll spare any of you who still may believe in me the usual excuses and cut to the chase: i am still obsessed with strollers.

that's right, my kids are 9 (9!) and 6, and i still lust after stroller nirvana. for years i tried to imagine the perfect stroller: part umbrella, part jogger, removable bassinet (because i was sure all my kids' sleep issues revolved around the fact that i had no bassinet for them), fits every car seat imaginable, converts to a bike trailer, and doubles as oh-so-hip fashion accessory.

imagine my disappointment after getting both my kids to do the miraculous - walk the three blocks into town on their own with almost no complaining - when this marvel came on the scene.  of course the retail price is about the resale value of my car, so it's probably best that i wasn't in the market, because i'm sure that i would have found a way to finance this masterpiece.  still, i know those early years of child rearing would have gone much better had i been lucky enough to have a frog of my very own.

to add to my nostalgic longing for the perfect perambulator, i recently spotted this beauty  on the streets of park slope.  mmmmm, there it was again, that chic 'i'm not a parent but i play one on tv' design, the 25 pottery barn colors to choose from, and the genius concept of the 'add a kid' attachment, saving one the agony of having to choose all over again when getting a buggy for two.  cheaper than the frog, and me thinks less than i spent on the 1..2...3...4 strollers i ended up purchasing.  for some women it's shoes...

interesting note: both strollers were designed by male duos.  now what does that say?

a,b,c,d,e,f,g....

be careful what you name your child.

i've often considered these letters for the door to the kids' room.  but at $3.00 a pop, madeleine would cost $27.  had i dropped the second 'e' (which has already created some problems), i could have saved $3.00.  but if i'd been really forward thinking, i could have named her ann, or may -- or have gone really renegade, with just a single letter, like 'b' or 'l'.  and beyond the savings per letter, think of the time i could have saved filling out all those forms!

my quick google of names shows me that there are very few names with more letters than madeleine.  even alexandra, arundhati, hamilton.  all nine letters.  doesn't arundhati sound like it has more letters than madeleine?  especially if you pronouce it the french way -- madeleine that is.

so, i'm thinking of having the kids' room door look something like this.

MO MAD

i figure i can add the apostrophe with a sharpie.