What To Knit When You're Expecting

Togetherness

2012-05-30T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion that, with very few exceptions, Willow is a solitary person. And I probably only didn't notice this earlier because I too am a solitary person, and so the two of us being solitary together didn't register as anything other than togetherness, but it isn't necessarily. A great deal of our time is spent in parallel play.

And so just imagine how very parallel Willow wishes to be with other children. Let's be in parallel rooms, perhaps. All of which is fine--I certainly take no issue with Willow's frequently self-entertaining ways. The problem only seems to arise when she encounters other children who don't feel exactly the same way.

Cousin Francie is a social little being, and wants to laugh and giggle and play...and Willow doesn't quite know what to do with that yet. We went to visit over Memorial Day Weekend, and Willow was excited to see Francie, and Francie was excited to see Willow, but expectations are never quite met, are they?

Francie wanted Willow to run and scream. Willow wanted Francie to sit still and ride tricycles with her. Willow wanted to practice her newfound sharing skills by giving Francie some snacks. Francie wanted Willow to get that yucky stuff out of her face. Francie wanted Willow to explain her emotional reactions (a common question: "Why you crying, Willow? Why she crying?") Willow wanted Francie to get out of her crying face.

'Tis a tricky business. Luckily, we all mostly ignored them and paid attention to Baby Charlie instead.

That's me instructing Charlie not to let anybody else hold him. Ever.

And indeed, it's not that fun wasn't had. We worked in the garden with NamaMimi.

We slipped and slid our knees raw. We swung.

And we rode motorbikes together. As one should do on Memorial Day weekend.

Reward

2012-05-23T07:28:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to convince myself that it isn't bribery, it's a reward system! Positive reinforcement! But I'm also trying to choose carefully--leading off with going out and buying a present probably wasn't the smartest move on my part.

So yesterday, I dialed it down a bit. Willow darling, if you take your nap, we get to play with fingerpaints. Doesn't that sounds like fun? Don't you want to go to sleep?

Turns out, it did sound like fun. She did want to go to sleep. She went to sleep in fifteen minutes, and woke up saying "Now let's play with fingerpaints."

Absolutely, my love, here we are, play like a little angel, because what could be more wholesome and childlike than fingerpaints?

Except for how, apparently, we're doing creepy zombie parts demon-summoning spellwork instead.

Don't ask me what happened to my fingerpaints. So they got masticated bits of flesh in them--it wasn't on my watch. Who knows what dark powers Willow calls up in her sleep?

Bribery

2012-05-21T09:29:00.001-07:00

As far as that other thing goes, we seem to be holding steady and are even venturing out of the house and going so far as to let other people within five feet of us. Quarantine appears to be over.

No, I'm back to that other problem. The one I've talked about here. And here. And here and here. Willow is once again refusing to nap. Or go to bed. Or sleep past 5:30. We (kind of) have the going to bed under control--we're following The Sleep Lady's advice, and it seems to be going relatively well, if a bit slower than we'd like. The 5:30 thing, well, it's light out and the birds are a-chirping so you kind of can't blame her, plus the early morning is Dave's shift so this kind of feels to me like the least of our worries (I am quite sure Dave does not feel the same).

But the naps. Oh, the naps. I CANNOT DEAL WITH THE NAPS ANYMORE. I am this close to saying, fine, go without naps and go to bed screaming with exhaustion at 6:30 and never see your brother and sister or father, SEE IF I CARE! But then I remember that my insistence on naps has much more to do with my need for ONE TINY LITTLE HOUR when I am not watching a small person to make sure she doesn't jump out a window or eat a light bulb. Because she would.

Yesterday, for instance, we planned our entire day around jumpless-windows and sleepy-Willows. After the 5:30 wakeup, we were easily out the door and at the special playground with the sandbox by 8:30, where I sat and stared in mind-numbing boredom as Willow shoveled sand (there are other things to do there. She is not interested in any of those things) while Dave bought $300 worth of window guards. We stayed until it was nearing naptime, and then we drove home. She did not fall asleep on the ride home, so after her milk and cuddle time, I took her in her room to read stories.

For an hour. And after an hour, I gave up, as my back was killing me, my legs were numb, and I was so frustrated that I doubt my voice was at all soothing. I refused to read anymore, Willow flipped out, so Dave took her for a drive in the car to calm down and go to sleep.

He drove for half an hour. Willow screamed the whole time. And do you know what she screamed? "That's not going to work!" "I don't want to do this!" Dave came home.

Okay, we figured. Fine. We hauled Willow back in the car to go back to the sandbox so Dave could affix the window guards. Guess who fell asleep right when we got there?

Sometimes I think she's just trying to mess with me.

So, obviously, I was afeared for the nap today. Especially since it's pouring out and not exactly conducive to running around until exhaustion. (I did the best I could, though. We stomped in some puddles).

Those are Willow's magical toes, or so she has deemed them. She loves them. She wants to paint them again, and her fingernails, in many colors, including, apparently, silver and purple. I do not possess silver and purple nail polish, so thus far she has been denied. And so here's what I did: I told her that if she took a nap, I would take her out to buy some silver and purple nail polish, so that she may have silver and purple magical toes.

But only if she took a nap. And I reminded her of this whenever she got twitchy as we were reading stories.

Folks, it worked. I know you're all shocked. And you know what? I DON'T CARE. I WILL BRIBE THIS CHILD EVERY DAY IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES.

Even if it means getting silver and purple nail polish all over the house.

The Plague

2012-05-17T08:54:00.000-07:00

So all those photos--that was the fun part. Because on the flight home, we discovered we had the Plague.

Not that plague--no buboes, no black tongues. No, it was much, much worse. On the runway at LAX, halfway home, I scratched my head and found...a bug. That's right, I am that person. I am the person that you fear more than anything when you board a plane and rest your head against the seat. I had lice. On a plane.

I spent the the 5-hour flight leaning forward at a 45-degree angle, trying to put out of my mind the fact that, if I had them, then Willow almost certainly had them, not to mention that we had certainly brought them with us on the flights to Hawaii, so the damage was pretty much already done for those folks, so what was the point?

I couldn't help it. I sat up.

And when we got home to our mercifully unoccupied and therefore uku-free house, I locked Willow and me away in one room while Dave ran over to get The Stuff. Fifteen minutes later, Sesame Street was on, towels were down, and the three of us were half-naked on the TV room floor picking stuff out of our hair like monkeys.

Except we hit a snag. Literally. My hair, which though it is Very Clean and Normally Not Bug-Ridden, tangles easily, especially in humid places. Like Hawaii. Plus it was so long it would have taken the entire freaking bottle just to do my head.

So I cut it off. Or rather, I instructed Dave to do so, with no finesse, just one chop--which, by the way, dulled our scissors to the point where he was sawing through it by the end.

What can I say? I panicked. It was a lot shorter in the back--an inch long, in some places.

Anyway, I had them. Willow had them. Dave had them. None of us had very many, but there were bugs crawling on my head, and on the head of my very small and squirmy child. (Well, at that point they were all dead. But still.) We spent the rest of the day cleaning absolutely everything and bagging absolutely everything, including all of Willow Most Beloved and Necessary For Sleeping stuffed animals, so you can imagine how our bedtime situation has been of late.

We treated again. And then we treated again. And then I finally got my hair fixed. And we are spraying and cleaning and checking and checking some more and I think I'll just go check Willow right now because You Can't Check Too Often and my head itches.

The Rest of the Trip: A Photo Essay

2012-05-14T10:14:00.003-07:00

I could say "and then we went to this beach, and it was cold, and then we went on this hike, and it was fun, and then we went to this beach, and it too was cold," but really, everything I said would just be code for "Isn't Willow beautiful?" "Oh, look, there's beautiful Willow again." "That Willow--she's so funny!" And I'm sure you can just fill that in for yourselves.

At Onekahakaha Beach Park

At Punalu'u Beach Park

It was very cold. And Willow has no pants. And though it is unclear, I DO have pants.

Baking an Ohelo Berry pie

At Bird Park, also known as Kipuka Puaulu, but nobody ever calls it that

That's a rare shot with something in it. Dave kept trying to photograph the birds with my ordinary zoom lens. We have a lot of pictures of empty sky.

Sitting on the "horsey tree"

"Helping" Grandma with yard work on our last day

Wishing we could take everything with us

The Party

2012-05-09T11:53:00.002-07:00

Officially, we were visiting Hawaii for my mom's 60th birthday party (to be held outside complete with barbecue, twinkle lights, and dancing to Men At Work, natch) and we totally ditched the majority of preparations by running off to a hotel for a couple of days. But we did come back, and we did help set up, so that by the time Willow got up from her nap, the tent was up, the coolers were out, and everything was just about ready to go.

Where is everybody? I've got the tequila all lined up!

It was a beautiful day, perhaps the only beautiful day we had up in Volcano, so Happy Birthday, Mom!

It did rain, of course, but that point everybody was dancing so who cared.

I think that although Willow did her share of dancing, the high point of her evening was the discovery of that magical thing--Ranch Dip.

Just shove it on in there, babe.

And by the end, she made sure every single carrot, broccoli floret and snap pea had ranch dressing pre-spread on it. Helpful, labor-saving child!

500 Photos

2012-05-07T10:21:00.002-07:00

I promise, I am not posting 500 photos. But that's how many we took. Digital cameras are dangerous things.

I'm going to skip right on over the boring stuff, like interminable plane rides and fractious toddlers who wake up at 2 am. The fun started the morning after we arrived.

Here we are at 7am, our day having started many, many hours before, and Grandma is baking cookies because Willow asked her to. Willow is discovering the power that talking gives you. "You can say 'please can we bake cookies, Grandma?' You're a darling genius! Of course I will bake cookies with you even though I only just woke up and there isn't enough coffee in the world!"

Of course, baking cookies is about all we did for the first couple of days, because it rained. A lot. We bought Willow rain boots and an umbrella, it was raining so much.

So we fled to the other side of the island and stayed at our favorite hotel where Willow could torment the other guests by running up and down the hallways at 6 in the morning (hey, the Starbucks opens at 5) and be the very first one in the pool at 7:30!

This is one of the very few shots of me swimming in the water on this trip. When it wasn't raining, it was very cold. I was able to wear the same suit over and over because it basically never got wet.

Willow, on the other hand, swam in frigid temperatures (okay, 80 degrees, so frigid by my standards but not most people's) until she was blue and shivering and still refused to come out.

And thereby worked up such an appetite that she ate $27 worth of ahi sashimi at Sansei (which, yes, is fancy and expensive, but that's still a whole lot of fish. We thought we were going to get to eat some. We were wrong) which promptly made her pass out into a food coma so Dave and I snuck out onto the lanai and played cards and drank a lot of excellent and crazy cheap tequila that I almost don't even want to tell you about because it's my special secret cheap tequila but here you go.

And then we did it all again.

Except that because we were kinda hungover, we left the hotel to go get some lunch without our wallets and drove around forever before we realized it so by the time we got back we were cranky and essentially not speaking.

Willow tried to break into a restaurant with a spoon she was so hungry.

Here is Dave before lunch:

Dave after lunch!

And then we were back on track.

We walked along the coastline at Anaeho'omalu, where we met a friendly turtle.

Or at least, Willow thought he was friendly.

And after another enormous meal of raw fish (if she starts turning grey in the pictures, tell me) and another night of tequila and Rummy 500, my parents came to meet us at what is perhaps the most beautiful beach on the island and another thing I'm almost inclined to not even tell you about.

This is Kua Bay. It's very tiny. Come early. But not so early you get there before the guy comes to open the gate, like we did.

My Dad instructed Willow on the importance of keeping her eyes on the waves. And when her father or her mother were in the water (another rare swimming day for me) she never took her eyes off the water and spent the whole time calling "Mommy, Daddy, can you come over?" So perhaps not her favorite beach day, but it was mine.

Stay tuned for Part II.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

2012-04-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

I finally feel comfortable enough to report that, with a few extremely notable hour-long exceptions, Willow's sleep has improved remarkably. She either sleeps through the night or goes back to sleep without trouble. She goes to sleep on her own (note those exceptions), and she has been napping so willingly and so soundly that I'm able to stick a camera in her face and she still won't wake up.

So sounds like a good time to screw it all up by traveling a great distance and adjusting to a six-hour time difference, eh?

Oh well. I suppose beaches and doting grandparents are worth it.

See y'all when we get back.

Gush

2012-04-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to lie--a fair amount of the time I find Willow maddening, tiresome, and even somewhat boring (usually during the tenth repetition of Alouette or Jingle Bells). And during another big chunk of time, we're just kind of going about our lives--happy, loving, but not particularly noticing one thing or another about each other.

And then there are weeks like this one, when I notice things that have probably been here all the time, but for some reason are now jumping up and waving their hands in the air. First among them is language--Willow still isn't much of a chatterbox, in that she will essentially not talk for long periods of time, but what she does say can be a little disconcerting. Like "The wind blew the leaves in the trees and made a loud noise and then the noise disappeared." Or "We're going in the car on the New Jersey Turnpike to Sandy Hook in New Jersey so we need our bucket and shovel and blanket and towels and chips so we can jump in the waves." Or "The light is glimmering. It's the reflection of the water." The vocabulary, and the level of detail in what she remembers, are a little terrifying.

Much of the vocab comes from the books we read--books that she quotes constantly. We go to the beach, just like Nancy and Timmy go to the beach. We eat string beans just like Gloria eats string beans. I know what she's referring to most of the time, Dave and Toaster and RockNoodle know what she's referring to a lot of the time, but nobody else does. It's wonderful, it's amazing...it's not so great for chatting with other kids. She does like Elmo, at least.

Willow's joy in language extends so far that she will play rhyming games for as long as you're willing to play them with her, and she'll change the lyrics of songs to suit her purposes--"Eat some avocado, skip to my lou, eat some strawberries, skip to my lou, drink some water, skip to my lou my darling"--and correct me if I don't remember the French word for a body part she has requested for Alouette--"Elbow is not French, Mommy."

Plus, she ridiculously beautiful. I mean, seriously.

Home Alone

2012-04-10T07:10:00.001-07:00

There is nobody in my house except me. It's eerie.

Willow is over at a friend's house--we've started a babysitting swap, so Jen takes Willow on Tuesday mornings, and I take Buster on Thursdays. Today is the first day. We're halfway through. I've done all my chores, I made my merguez for tomorrow night's dinner and my miso butter for tonight's dinner, and I'm currently at a bit of a loss. So....I'm going to post pictures of Willow on the internet!

Before we hid the eggs, we dyed them, and I was honestly so excited about the bicycle-riding on Friday that I neglected to post pictures of that activity, which is a shame because they're beauteous.

Toaster made this incredible Charlie Brown egg, while RockNoodle made my favorite egg down below--the one on the second row from the top, second in from the right (next to the French egg)--it looks like a Monet. Willow was very focused and very neat, if not terribly creative, and so her eggs are the ones that are intensely colored.

And they are now all gone.

Update: She had a great time. She didn't want to leave, in fact, despite bribes like pears and peanuts. And then she conked out half an hour after we got home. What do I do with myself now?

Happy Easter!

2012-04-08T13:58:00.000-07:00

Nothing like leading off the day with chocolate-covered marshmallows. Or discovering that there's a bunny who brings such things into your house while you are sleeping.

And then takes the eggs you had colored the previous day and hides them around your house.

And then you discover that peeling them is at least as fun as coloring them. And that deviling them is even more fun than that.

Though you do not like deviled eggs, Sam I Am, the whisk is still pretty fun. Easter is an acceptable holiday, though not so profitable as Christmas nor as fun as Halloween.

Hooray!

2012-04-07T05:24:00.001-07:00

For those of you following the Saga of Willow's Sleep, I must report a small hiccup: on Wednesday night, we went to see RockNoodle's school talent show. Which, for grownups, was of course equal parts amazing (RockNoodle's performance, those of her friends) and rather painful. But Willow was unequivocally delighted, and as such was waaaaay too excited to sleep.

Fortunately, there was no crying. There was no calling for Mommy. There was just intermittent chatter in her crib--she was trying to get herself to sleep, she just wasn't having much success. We stopped hearing her about 40 minutes after I put her down.

And--that's fine. Annoying, since I need to put her to bed figuratively as well as literally before I can relax, but at least she knew she was supposed to get herself to sleep and she managed it eventually. But then I heard some intermittent chatter at 1:30 am. The Sleep Lady advises rushing in to immediately soothe, so they don't wake up any more than they have to, but I confess I couldn't quite make myself get out of bed until I heard her actually calling for me.

She informed me that she was done sleeping, that it was time to get up. I disabused her of that notion, and sat down next to the crib. She argued with me for about five minutes, then gave up and lay down again. It took her about ten minutes to fall asleep, which is a lot for her--usually, when she decides to go to sleep, she conks out pretty quickly.

I am not like that. It took me a while to get back to sleep--and I was awakened before 2:30. She was up and chatting with herself again. And again at 5. I did not go in either time. She went back eventually.

I feel like this is still progress. She couldn't sleep--I get that. But she didn't feel the need to freak out and wake everybody up, and she did manage to get herself some sleep. On Thursday, she woke up and was awake for over an hour, but I never went in, and she got herself back (eventually). I know this is not exactly what The Sleep Lady recommends either--but I don't want to create another habit I have to break, even if it means losing more sleep than might otherwise be necessary right now. Besides, last night she didn't wake up at all!

So I feel like this is cause for celebration. But even more celebratory than that are the activities we did yesterday, activities that were so exciting and tiring that it's no wonder she slept through the night. RockNoodle and Willow rode their bikes.

This has been a long time coming for both of them--we bought Willow her balance bike for her birthday, which was ages ago and snowy(ish). It is, to be honest, a little big for her still, but she can reach with her tippy toes, and anyway she was having waaaay more fun being pushed around by Toaster anyway.

As for RockNoodle, this is something we've been working up to for a while. And in the end, what worked, was taking the pedals off her bike so she could have a balance bike too. When she reached the point where she was comfortable coasting down the enormous, steep hill we use for sledding, we figured it was time to try pedals.

And off she went! There were no falls, no tears of frustration, no terror--none of the hallmarks of my first time without training wheels.

All in all, a banner day for everyone.

Glasses On

2012-04-04T10:51:00.001-07:00

Well....I'm being very careful to keep an air of triumph out of my voice, but....we've had two nights in a row without a wakeup. And I don't think I can talk about that anymore without feeling the need to celebrate, which would of course totally jinx it, so moving on!

...To knitting, for a nice change of pace. The Aran Sweater is almost done, with only a sleeve left to go--but time is growing short. It's been tricky trying to resize a pattern that provides no measurements whatsoever, but otherwise it's been easy--just slow. And to make matters worse, it is leaving carnage behind--my treasured Lantern Moons, snapped like mere twigs. I shouldn't blame the sweater--it didn't leave these just lying in my knitting bag on the floor waiting to be stepped on, but if it hadn't been such a freaking slow sweater I wouldn't just be flinging it all over the place, now would I?

In totally unrelated news, I received some very expensive face creams for free (Dave went to a benefit, and as I stayed home to watch the baby, I claimed everything in the gift bag. There was also caviar.) I should preface this by saying that I'm a Neutrogena kind of girl--that is, when I can remember to use anything at all. But you have to figure that $155 for a little tub of cream must mean something, right? So every morning, I smear something called--no joke--Cold Plasma all over my face. Because there is nothing more appealing than plasma. And then I follow it with something I can't even find on the website, but it comes with a dropper and is supposed to give me a rosy glow. They smell very strange, like rotting fruit candy, and I finish off with my Neutrogena to take the stench away.

There is NO WAY I'm going to be able to keep this up for long. Just like I'll probably never open the caviar. But it doesn't seem to be doing me any good anyway--as illustrated by the following story.

At the playground the other day, a little girl about six or seven complimented me on my glasses. They are enormous glasses, and take up half my face, but they serve their intended purpose of blocking the sunlight. I thanked her, and she asked me what I looked like with my glasses off. I dutifully removed them. At which point she informed me that I look better with them on.

Yep. Sounds about right.

At the end of the tunnel, there may be light

2012-04-02T05:37:00.000-07:00

On Friday night, I was a desperate woman. Not only was I having nap issues and middle-of-the-night issues, but (despite its being the rare occasion when we had friends over, and wouldn't I have loved to join the party) I spent an hour putting Willow to bed. We haven't had bedtime issues (travel and illness-recovery notwithstanding) for over a year. This was patently unacceptable, and something had to be done. Immediately.

And so, following the commented suggestion of SB, I rode all the way to Union Square Barnes & Noble and picked up a copy of The Sleep Lady. (I also picked up some monkfish, tomatoes, fresh milk, and a spring salad, lest anyone think I am immune to the allure of the Union Square Farmer's Market). And I read it on the way home.

For those unfamiliar with her approach (as I was) it's an extremely kind and gentle cry-it-out. We have tried Ferber many times , to some success--it's how we got bedtime happening--but usually it doesn't go particularly well, and we have always had to break a rule or two. We had been psyching ourselves up for another round of Ferber, but knowing that it never worked in the middle of the night or for naptime, we weren't feeling all that confident.

The Sleep Lady has you stay right there with her while she cries. Which, let me tell you, actually sucks. On Saturday night, I got up at 1:30, explained the situation to Willow, and listened to her cry and plead. I frequently pointed out to Willow that I was right there, that I loved her, that it was all right--but she did not agree. "Come out come out come out"* and "Snuggle for a while" and "Hold you for a while" are not things you want to hear when you're right there and could easily pick up your child and hug her and snuggle with her--it requires far more self-control to stay right there with it rather than watch tv and try to distract yourself from it. But I managed, and after an hour and fifteen minutes, she gave up. I watched her lay down, and go right to sleep.

And bedtime last night was normal. Naptime yesterday....well, naptime was also normal! In that it was buckets of awful! She was overtired from having been up so much the night before, and absolutely would not go down. Fearing that more overtired would lead to a poor bedtime, we walked her in the stroller until she fell asleep. (I hate doing that, but like I said. Desperate woman.) Dave and I discussed it, and while there are certainly arguments to be made for having a come-to-Jesus at naptime as well as in the middle of the night--consistency, get it all done, etc.--to be perfectly honest, I don't have the strength. I also think Willow is so freaking stubborn about naps that she'll transfer that stubborness to nighttime as well, and it'll just be a general disaster.

Which, so far, nighttime appears not to be. Last night, after spending half the night dreading the worst, I got up with her at 4, listened to her plead--but not cry--for twenty minutes, after which she lay down and went to sleep. Which is better than we ever got on Ferber.

And she got a new haircut. I LOVE IT.

*Ah yes. We put her back in her crib. This was partly because I couldn't fathom how on earth we were going to fix bedtime if she could just walk on out of there, but the eagerness with which she went back in makes it clear to me that she was not ready for her Big Girl Bed quite yet.

Exhaustion

2012-03-29T10:33:00.000-07:00

I've chronicled Willow's napless ways on here, but I don't think I've mentioned that for the past couple of months, she is sleepless at night as well. There have been reasons for this, like a cold, and then molars, and then another cold, but between the nighttime awakenings and then daytime refusals, she has been a hot mess.

As have I. Because everything is a vicious circle, she clings to me when she's tired. Which means that napless days are spent, essentially, carrying her around being comforting, while she rubs my ears. And nighttime...well. Nighttime is spent lying next to her in my bed while she rubs my ears and pleads for milk. And, eventually, snores, and rubs my ears in her sleep. My ears are beginning to have raw spots behind the lobes. And because I get everything she gets tenfold, I am also sick. Again. And can't get better because I can't get any sleep.

She won't let Dave comfort her--she'd rather he left and went to go sleep on the couch. I just keep him around for milk-fetching purposes, poor guy. When he does try to take over, she screams bloody murder until finally I give up and then it takes me that much longer to get her back to sleep.

This is EVIL. There is no other word for it. There are moments, after a particularly rough night, when she's all "hug me mommy, let's not take a nap, let's read more stories. I know your voice is gone, so you'll have to shout, okay?" At those moments, I think she might maybe be a demon.

Okay, not really. But I do kind of wish she wanted to hang out with someone else for a little while. I'm only writing about this because she slept through the night last night, and is currently napping, and so while I don't by any means think that she'll sleep tonight or nap tomorrow, I feel like I've been granted enough of a break to deserve a bit of a venting.

As soon as this cold's over, as soon as I have the energy, I'm taking her down, man. It's on. Let the Sleep Wars begin.

Sandy Hook

2012-03-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

It was 78 degrees yesterday. So Mommy took me to the beach. I spent the whole long car ride saying "Go to Sandy Hook in New Jersey. It's the name of the beach." I said that over and over again, when I wasn't singing The Farmer In The Dell.

Mommy spent the whole ride telling herself that getting ones driver's license should mean that they are able to drive places beyond the ten-mile radius of our house. And trying not to swerve when she handed me snacks and water.

We were the only ones there. I roamed free, like a chicken, Mommy said, which didn't make much sense to me, but I was way too busy to care. Mommy sat and knit. You can see me way in the distance there.

I still have sand in my hair today, like a souvenir, because I used my bucket as a hat. And then when Mommy asked me not to do that, I filled my hat with sand and put it on. See? I know how to listen!

I was a little nervous of the water at first and so I just ran away from it, which I guess is why Mommy was so comfortable letting me run wherever I wanted. (Also it was freezing). But then, because she doesn't really know how to just sit still and relax, Mommy brought me down to the water and showed me how fun it is! We jumped in the waves until our toes were numb and my pants were all wet, and then we ran away back to the warm sand and I buried my feet and Mommy sat down to knit again, which was silly, since obviously I was just going to run to water again once my feet thawed and that's exactly what I did.

I really like eating sand. No one can convince me otherwise.

I also really like putting shells in my bucket. I did that for five whole minutes.

Do you like how my bucket and my shovel match my outfit? Mommy did not do that on purpose.

And then I was so tired that I fell asleep in the car and didn't really want to do anything but read stories all afternoon.

When can we go again?

Big Girl Bed

2012-03-20T10:23:00.001-07:00

In an effort to increase Willow's desire to sleep, we have moved her out of her beloved crib. I thought we might meet with some resistance on this issue, and I was ready to back off at the least no thank you, but no. The Big Girl Bed is equally beloved, if not more so.

Which is good, since it's just her crib mattress put on the floor.

This makes sense, for obvious reasons, like how we're not certain of its permanence, how we want a shorter fall for when she rolls out (as she already has, and then came to spend the rest of the night in our bed. Bed rails may be in order even for a five-inch drop).

But oy, it looks so low-rent. Not that Willow minds, of course. But those pictures are so high up! And so tiny! It looks weird and not at all cozy, but Willow is one of those kids who would take picture frames off the wall and step on them, so it's sort of necessary.

And no, by the way, the Big Girl Bed did not dramatically increase daytime sleep. Not at all.

It's really good for monkeys who jump on beds, though.

Buzzer

2012-03-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

That buzzer is the "Beep, thank you for trying, but you have FAILED at the Get Your Child To Nap Like A Normal Person Game Show."

Yep. All I have succeeded in doing is changing the nap routine so that it includes a lengthy storytime AND lengthy hold-you-and-sing-to-you time. And it still doesn't always work. This is just one of those things about parenting that I am Not Very Good At. I care more about her taking a nap than she does. Therefore I will do everything in my power to make it happen, and no amount of self-control can stop me.

In other news, because I could use a change of subject, I did promise pictures of baking. Here we are making Gingersnaps. (And to those of you who note that my walls are stripey, I am pleased to tell you that they are no longer, and that we settled on that dark turquoise. It's like cooking inside a Tiffany Box).

We had to refrigerate the dough for a couple of hours before it hardened enough to be formed into proper cookie-ball shape, which was a tragedy that could only be alleviated by dumping flour down our dress, but we recovered and here we are in new outfits making cookie balls:

The challenge of cookie-balls is not to squish them once you have made them, and to remember to take tastes from the bowl with Mommy's permission not from the cookie-ball. As you can see, that is a challenge we are still working on overcoming.

And why not? Cookie dough tastes great no matter where it comes from!

Ages

2012-03-12T07:35:00.000-07:00

It's been ages since I wrote, but I have a couple of very, very good excuses. The first good excuse is that I write during naptime...and we have not had any of those.

Willow's naps have always been a point of contention--as seems to be the case for most nappers. She is firmly against them, while I very strongly believe that they are necessary both for her sanity, and for my own. And so I have done everything in my power to achieve them. From walking in the stroller...and then when that didn't work, driving in the car. And then when that didn't work anymore, reading stories for an hour until she got so bored she fell asleep. And then even that didn't work, and by that point I'd finally had it.

I didn't arrive at these deathly nap routines out of nowhere--I tried traditional methods first, but she has never ever not once gone down for a nap on her own. We've had bedtime worked out for ages, but despite all the books saying that the nap would follow naturally, it just didn't happen. I tried crying it out at naptime last year, to nothing more than tears on both our parts.

But this past week, I decided to try again. For reasons to do with the second very good excuse, I really really needed some naps, and Willow was just not interested. So I told her fine, you don't feel like going to sleep, that's your business, but you're going to stay in your crib for an hour and I strongly suggest that you spend that time sleeping.

She spent that time screaming.

But on the second day, she spent that time playing. And while I can't concentrate much during the Screaming Hour, the Playing Hour is a little bit more acceptable. Still doesn't feel like much of a break, and certainly doesn't provide the rest and relief that a nap does, but it's better than nothing.

Day 3, more playing. Dave and I started talking about how to rearrange her schedule to accommodate a napless lifestyle, and I tried to convince myself that no naps was a good thing. More time in the evening! The ability to go out and do things during naptime!

And then, Day 4, after a particularly zooty and unpromising morning, Willow fell asleep. Not on her own, mind you, because that would never happen, but during our fifteen-minute story routine that precedes going in her crib.

So...what? Does that mean she'll nap today? Does that mean that we're on an every-once-in-a-while nap schedule? I'll get back to you.

The second good excuse is, as Jody pointed out in the comments, I have a book coming out in the Fall and I've been neck-deep in copyedits.

Bottom of the Barrel

2012-03-02T09:44:00.001-08:00

It's March, and I'm about out of ideas. The blog suffers from lack of updating, but honestly, I need an update. I need a magical influx of creativity, energy, and mental fortitude.

I know I shouldn't complain. It has been the warmest winter ever, apparently, and we have gone outside far more than ever before. But it's still too cold, generally, to stay out for long, and it's often wet and muddy, and somebody has torched my playground, and so ungrateful or not, I am complaining. I'm over winter. Willow keeps asking to go to the beach, and I'm with her. I want to skip right on over spring and get sandy already.

This is what we've been reduced to:

My living room is a fort, people. Not this fort, anymore, since we needed the chairs to sit on so we could eat food, but yet another fort. Because I've created a fort-monster.

A fort monster who, if she had her way, would bake every single day. This week, we have made sticky-toffee pudding (easy and mess-free!) and shortbread (Oh lord. Flour. There was flour. So, so much flour.)

And in order to keep this fort-monster in the kitchen when there is no baking to be done, I have to let her cook my food before I cook it.
For instance, pasta. (Which is nice and easy. Think about when we're cooking couscous).

And when the pasta is finally required, the bowls have other uses as well:

Desperate times, people. I'm praying for sprinkler-season.

Progress

2012-02-26T14:32:00.000-08:00

I've been blogless for the past week because we were in Massachusetts skiing (just Dave and RockNoodle) visiting Francie (just me and Willow, mostly) and Francie and Willow's grandmother. Who is known as NamaMimi, which has to be the longest grandparental nickname ever. (Originally referred to as "Grandma," mispronounced by first grandchild Toaster as "Nama," which was waaay too confusing for Francie who had a "Nana," so she--out of nowhere, I guess--chose "Mimi," and the multiple names were waaaaay too confusing for Willow, who settled on "NamaMimi.")

The sharing was markedly improved, as despite numerous napless days, there was basically no hitting and almost no yelling, and even some sharing that wasn't required (Willow tried to forcefeed some of her apple to Francie). And they seemed to have a very good time together--though nobody had as good a time as me and Francie. She's my new best friend. Well, she's probably forgotten about me now, but for a while there I was top dog, man! I even beat out NamaMimi!

Amusingly, Willow was totally cool with me spending so much time with Francie--I could carry Francie, hug Francie, play with Francie, and Willow would hang with us--or not. But the one time I tried to hold Baby Charlie, I was instantly assaulted with a toddler demanding that I "Put Charlie down now. Pick me up." Yep. She knows where the danger is.

I have, alas, no photos for you, as I was a) trying to enjoy the moment, and b) kinda busy. (Mostly b). But you should be thankful I wasn't heavily into documenting, because poor Willow, who complained of a tummy-ache before we got in the car to head home (and I took it seriously, mind you, because she never complains about this stuff) vomited all over herself on the drive home. There aren't enough wipes in the world.

It was her first, and really could not have come at a worse moment. She was, on the whole, really very good about it--she suffered through it, and never panicked, though she did ask me several times to clean it off. And the rest of us suffered through it too, and never panicked, and just rolled the windows down and were thankful it was such a balmy day. And showered her off and washed everything and Febrezed like crazy as soon as we got home.

So...another milestone. Yay?

Relativity

2012-02-17T10:53:00.000-08:00

It seems that right now, everything is in this incredibly efficient state of matter and energy conversion. If, you know, matter was bad and energy was good. (Just go with me on this one). For instance, last night we had an electrical outage. Now, for some two-year-olds, this could have induced hysteria and an insistence that we Turn The Lights Back On Now. But not Willow--oh no, Willow danced in circles giggling that we were all in the dark and wasn't that amazing?

Great! Except for this morning, when she asked us to turn the lights off again, and we explained that we couldn't that it was daytime, and the sun was giving the light. "NO. NOT DAYTIME. TURN THE SUN OFF."

Right. And on the flipside, we cannot change her diapers anymore without rage and screaming and bribery and mud-wrestling. "Yes I do want to sit in poopy. No new diaper. Nooooooo! No Diapers!" Which is deeply unpleasant for everyone, but surely indicates that we are ready for potty-training and that will all go very smoothly and wonderfully? Yes?

Similarly, I have finally for the love of God finished the stockinette section of Paper Dolls! Hallelujah! But I can proceed no further. Because I don't have the needles I need. Because a certain toddler will not go to Hoboken with me to hit Patricia's . Because Einstein says I can't. I have to put my energies elsewhere.

With few exceptions, I am pretty good at making sweaters for myself. I am not so good at making them for other people. They invariably turn out either too big or too small or they just don't suit--and I don't blame myself for this particularly, as I can't usually try the sweater on other people and I don't have their arm lengths memorized and what I think sounds like fun to knit doesn't necessarily equal fun to wear.

But after numerous failed attempts, I decided to make my mom something she wanted, and that would fit her. After some haggling, we settled on Lion Brand's Aran Pullover, I extracted measurements, bought yarn, and here we go. And mom's birthday's in April. And I'm not super-experienced with cable-knitting, so while I'm confident I can do it, it's not exactly going to fly. And so really, I don't have time to work on Paper Dolls, I shouldn't work on Paper Dolls, and the needles, the toddler, and Einstein can just quit ganging up on me because I get it and I've put Paper Dolls in the closet, so just leave me alone, okay?

And anyway, it's pretty fun too. Single-rib may be boring, but it's waaaaay more interesting than US 2 stockinette, and now I've actually got some cables going and it's going to be an adventure.

I even cast on using June Hiatt's special single-rib cast-on. How does it look? Any different from a regular cast-on?

I feel like I'm constantly at wits' end, struggling to tread water and just keep everything from exploding (nothing like fire and water in your mixed metaphors)--but at the same time finding joys in things that are not normally joyful, like darkness and running up and down hills and finding triangles and squares and circles all over the house and playing hide-and-seek in such a way that doesn't involve actual hiding. Or sometimes even seeking. And there's probably some kind of philosophical answer for me in that last bit.

The Principles of Knitting

2012-02-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

Or, How I Got Bitch-Slapped By a 10-lb Book.

Because I happen to know some very nice people, I got a present--a copy of June Hiatt's The Principles of Knitting.

Folks, this book is awesome. And it kind of makes me want to hide in a corner. It tells you absolutely everything you could ever want to know about knitting, from--no joke--the "subtleties" of knitting a stitch, including how you should hold your elbows, and the importance of keeping your hands down low over your lap, so as not to place undue stress on your stitches from the weight of the growing fabric.

There's an entire chapter on swatching, and another on picking up stitches. I have discovered that there are six different ways you can hold your yarn when doing colorwork. And I lost count of how many different methods one can use to sew a seam. Not only am I impressed by the amount of information in this book, I'm actually sort of shocked that anybody had the mental capacity to sort through it all (think about it, how many different knitting cultures must have contributed to this?), much less gather it all together in any kind of comprehensible fashion.

Once I've gotten over my fear of mental breakdown, I imagine I'll use this book literally every single time I knit something.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2012-02-14T06:55:00.000-08:00

From glittery fingers...

From Willow's snot bubble...

With so much love...

Driving Through Chicago

2012-02-09T11:11:00.000-08:00

Right after I got out of college, I went on a road trip with a friend. We drove from Minnesota to New York, and we drove through Chicago to get there. Now, as this and layovers in O’Hare have been my only visits to Chicago, I mean no disrespect to what I’m sure is a lovely city by saying that after a while, my friend and I decided that driving through Chicago must be Circle of Hell overlooked by Dante only because it hadn’t existed back then. Driving through Chicago is a black hole that cannot be escaped—it just goes on and on and on. And on.

I feel like I’m driving through Chicago right now. I have been working on the stockinette portion of Paper Dolls forever. I will never be done with the stockinette portion of Paper Dolls. Normally I don’t mind, and stockinette always flows faster than I think it will, plus it’s kind of breezy, like paddling downstream, but Not This Time. Because Time Has Stopped.

So there’s that. And my daughter has been replaced by an alien. You know how Willow had a great appetite, loved all meals, and would try anything? Yeah, now we drink only milk, and eat only raisins and pears. No other food is acceptable. Oh, except house plants. She’ll eat house plants. “No dinner! Just miiiiiiilllllkkkkkk!” She will not sleep. (She was up for another bajillion hours the other night, and then refused to nap on top of that.) She will not speak to her father (last night, she screamed and shoved him away for trying to assist her in getting her pjs on). She will not let me out of her sight (this morning, I was not allowed to get dressed after showering. Screams, because I wanted to put her down so as to not be naked in full view of the neighbors.)

I know that this is a phase, as all things are. It is a phase brought on by fighting a cold, by getting a tooth, by being two. But dear God, it feels like it’s never going to end.