Taxes

Taxes are DONE!

*high fives self*

Just have to make a trip to the post office. Backasswards Indiana won't let me e-file a partial year return. Whatever. I can wait a few weeks for to the $49 you owe me.

The Wizard of ENT

Moodle was diagnosed with yet another double ear infection yesterday. If my memory serves me, this is the third this year, and the 12th in her lifetime. If you count by ear rather than instance of infection, I think we are up to 19. This bought us to the long-dreaded point of no return on the path to the ear, nose, and throat doctor, and almost certainly to tubes.

We know it will help. She's miserable with these things, and does a great job making us miserable too. And everyone we know that has gotten them said it did great things for their kid.

But we were hoping to squeak by one more time into summer without needing them. She didn't get any ear infections last summer (the last one was in May, and they started up in October), so I don't know if having surgery in April is the right thing. And I'm not thrilled to put my kid under the knife. And I'm certainly not looking forward to calling my insurance to see if this is covered.

In the end, we always do what's best for Moodle. And we'll fend off the flying monkeys along the way. Today the flying monkey is diarrhea, as we begin another round of antibiotics. At least she likes yogurt.

Conquering the Giraffe

Moodle finally did it! After 5 visits to the Indianapolis Children's Museum, she finally rode an animal on the carousel.

She had been telling me all week that she was going to ride a giraffe. Yeah, yeah, I thought, I'll believe it when I see it. Every other time we've went, she's been excited by the giraffes, but when I tried to put her on, she would cling to me like a monkey.

We were not planning on heading to the museum this weekend, but it's the first time in a while that Max Powers had actually been home over the weekend. He was caught up on sleep, no one was sick, and I think he was starting to feel a little guilty that mommy had been doing so many activities with Moodle by herself.

So, Sunday afternoon we flexed our membership again. And as we made the drive, I realized that she might actually do it this time. I don't know if all kids are like this, but my kid is much more adventurous when Daddy is around. When it's just Mommy, she can be awfully clingy. I try to just let her relax and go at her own pace, but she tends to be much more reserved. When it's Mommy and Daddy, she will tear it up, no matter where "it" is.

Ain't scared of no giraffes

Once we got to the museum, I slyly passed her off to Daddy as we passed through the line and onto the carousel. And like nothing, he plopped her on the seat, strapped her on, and we got grins all around. We kept praising her as the ride started, but it was just like I expected. With Daddy's hand on her back, she had a great time on her giraffe. And, when we went back for one more spin before we left, she conquered a tiger. And Mommy got in trouble for holding up the carousel to take a picture.

I Love Google, But...

I love Google. I love Google products. I use at least five Google products every day, often more. If Google were to go away, I would suddenly have to go buy calendars and photo albums and a diary and an encyclopedia set and pens and paper and stamps and envelopes and tons of maps. I would drown in a sea of paper.

But I'm starting to think that maybe Google doesn't get me. Or at least I am not their target audience.

But today, as I was checking my email, I noticed a new button in my black bar. Play: New! it screamed. I clicked it, and it's just a store with some video games and books. Maybe it will be cool, I don't know. But the button for it is right there in the middle of the black bar. In the place where I wish the Reader button was. Or the Photos button. Or the Blogger button. You know, buttons that actually do something for me.

I understand Google wants to be cool, or hip, or whatever the kids are saying these days. But I wish it would embrace what it does so well, and stick to organizing my life and thoughts and information stream.

Though there was a rental link to "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" on that Play page....hmm.

See You Later, Alligator

Today was a lovely day to attempt to shorten the daycare drop-off dance. There were only two other little kids there today, and we were so late that they were more than halfway through breakfast. And it wasn't our normal teacher (who is a wonderful person), but another wonderful teacher who used to be a regular in this room, and who loves Moodle to pieces.

I like to have Moodle walk in the door of her room under her own power, so it doesn't feel like I'm dumping her, and that still took a few minutes. She actually stands just outside the doorway for a minute or two, finger in mouth, looking at me like I'm an idiot while I explain why she should come in the room.

While she was having her internal debate, I told the teacher about my problems; timing and guilt. No worries, she says, I'm ready. Once Moodle was safely in the room, I bent down, picked her up, gave her a big hug and several kisses, and whispered our goodbye in her ear, "I love you. See you later, alligator." Then I handed her to our wonderful teacher, turned tail, and booked it. I caught a waver of the lip, but didn't hear her distinctive wail as I headed down the hall.

It took about 5 minutes, but I bet it isn't that short most days, even with my steely resolve to end the dance. We can do it!

Leaving Day Care Has Become a 20 Minute Ordeal

Why has it gotten so hard for me to do daycare drop off? I find myself coaxing Moodle into the room, and then sitting with her until she agrees to get off my lap and go to the breakfast table at school. It takes about 20 minutes for me to get out of there. I know I can go in, bring her into the room, give her a kiss and a hug, and go. I know she will cry, and that our lovely teachers can handle that.

I know kids have some separation anxiety at this age (we turn 22 months this weekend!). It's not that I can't bear to see her cry. It sucks, but at least I know why she's crying, and that it's developmentally appropriate, so it doesn't haunt me. And I know she's probably done with it before I even make it out of the building.

What bugs me is that I know she will need the attention of her caregiver as soon as I leave. And so if I show up when the kids are having breakfast, I feel guilty leaving her to deal with Moodle's tears while also juggling three or four kids who are eating or just starting to eat, or cleaning up, or making sure the resident spitfire doesn't draw on the walls with his breakfast burrito.

I need to get over it. Or I need to get to school 10 minutes earlier so I'm not in the middle of breakfast prep. I think I also need to talk about this with our teachers, so they can work their teacher-y magic, and we can work together to get me over it.

Any suggestions for streamlining our morning?

ps...Moodle eats like a Hobbit, so we call her school breakfast "second breakfast". Lunch is "elevensies".

Does Diet Soda Go Bad?

Does diet soda go bad? This DP does not taste right. Kinda sweet/bitter/salty.

I'm a big girl, I'll answer my own question.

Googling.....

Yup. Apparently my soda has been exposed to too much radiant energy, which has caused the sweetening compounds to begin to break down.

But I'm thirsty so I am drinking it anyway.

Internet

Some days I find the internet a little distracting. I follow a lot of cool blogs on my rss reader, and love webcomics.

But SOME days I find the internet all consuming, and find myself reading the dooce archive for two hours, trolling for xkcd comics I've not seen yet, and constantly refreshing blogger to see if one more person maybe found this blog. All while I should be making publication-ready plots.

And then it's close to 3 pm, and time for me to go home and start evening things.

On those days, if I'm smart, I unplug and take my laptop to the cushy chairs in the lobby to work. Those are the days I'm thankful my government-issued computer was divested of its wireless capability.

Moodle's First Honest-to-Goodness Tantrum

Moodle and I had a big weekend. Apparently, it was a little too big. I'm going to describe all the not-tantrum-y parts, because I'd like to show you how many opportunities for bad behavior she skipped, choosing instead to unload them in one massive display.

On Saturday, we checked out a local gymnastics gym that has open play in the morning. Moodle was a little intimidated by the huge room and all the stuff. When a few of her friends from daycare showed up, she relaxed and finally started playing. I got a great workout just by playing myself, showing her all the fun stuff she could do. And I peed my pants a little while jumping on the trampoline. I love getting old.

The parents of one of her friends (we'll call him LaLa) invited us and the other kids we knew over the next afternoon for some playtime. Score! This is our first invite, and I like the kid, so I was excited.

Then Moodle skipped her nap. Determined to wear her out, we dashed back to the Children's Museum, and had a blast playing Legos and Mr. Potato Head. She had fun, but chickened out of riding a horsie on the carousel again. Next time, maybe.

We grabbed some fast food in town (chili and chicken nuggets), while Moodle flirted with an older gentleman, and headed home to a peaceful bedtime. No tantrum yet. Be patient, it's coming.

Moodle slept fine, and the next morning, we headed out shopping. Before we got going, I bought her an apple, which kept her occupied in the cart for almost the whole trip, and a strawberry rounded us out through checkout. No tantrum yet, just wait.

Good nap, then we headed to our playdate. Moodle had a great time playing for 3 hours with LaLa, and her other friends, Mondo and Eggles. They ate fruit and splashed in water and read books and played trains. All the kids were on their best behavior, and the kids and parents alike had a lovely visit. I was excited to have some grown-ups to talk to, even though we were just starting out, and most of the conversation was about our kids. Wait for it, it's coming.

We got safely home, and I got dinner on the table quickly, but it was clear Moodle was overtired. Everything was a struggle, including things she liked. She ate fine, but was getting super cranky. I decided to try to head it off at the pass, and drew her bath an hour early. But every little bump or touch was setting off the water works.

Bath time was mildly bad. She slipped a little, and some water splashed on her face, so she bawled and clung to me over the side of the tub. But eventually she was clean, the bubbles were gone, and we got out. And she brushed her teeth with a only mild amount of resentment.

Then things just got confusing. She wanted to sit on the potty, but cried sitting on the potty. She screamed like I was beating her while I brushed her hair, even though there were no knots. She regarded the diaper as a torture device. She seemed scared of the dog, who was resting at a safe distance and trying to stay out of the drama. But eventually we were dressed, and we retired to the bedroom for stories.

And then, BOOM (here's the tantrum). She flopped on her pillow pet and lost it. All of it. Screaming, kicking, flailing at nothing, flopping, and crying. Thank goodness I had been reading the book, and knew to just let it run its course. For 15 minutes, all the bad behavior she had been holding back all weekend poured forth in a frothy rage. I sat a little ways away and let her do it, taking deep breaths and reminding myself there was nothing I could do until she was done.

When she finally stopped beating up the air and was sobbing sadly, face down in her pillow, I gently started rubbing her back, and reading the silliest book we had out loud. Eventually, she climbed into my lap, still crying, and sniffled and hiccuped through two more books.  When I pulled out the last book we read every night, she starting wailing again, but settled back to crying softly when I read it in a whisper. She barely managed a hug as I put her in her crib, and whispered our nighttime stuff. She cried for 10 minutes, a long time for her, and finally fell asleep.

Once the noise subsided, I poured myself a large glass of wine, and watched Storage Wars until Max Powers called to chat. I relived the drama for him, but I'm not sure I did it justice. This account was much more detailed.

What Did That Hand Mean?

I was on my way back to work after grabbing a sandwich today, when some mofo ran a stop sign and almost hit me. I simultaneously slammed on the brakes and the horn, and stopped short of hitting him. And that mofo just kept driving, without pause, without change in expression, but held up his hand, palm facing me, fingers extended.

Had it been a single finger, his intent would have been clear. But the whole hand? Was he waving? Was he pretending to be a crossing guard, and inventing a stop sign for me? Was he apologizing for making me slam on my brakes, causing my open purse to tumble to the floor, spilling the collected detritus of a busy weekend with a toddler?

Perhaps I should thank him. In cleaning up the debris, I found Moodle's missing purple sock under the seat. And 37 cents in change. But I don't think that evens the score.

Any suggestions as to the intended meaning? It's bugging me more than the almost-accident. Perhaps it will give me insight to the collection of shitty drivers I have encountered since we've moved to Indiana.

Belated Introductions

Yo, world.

I started this blog a few weeks ago, and I decided to just dive right in to what was happening around me. After all, the main point was to have a journal of recollections of what was going on. The blog forces me to explain it in a way that it is accessible to people who aren't with us while it is happening, so that a million years from now, it will still be accessible to me.

A few people have stopped by to read, and that's cool. If you can relate to my stories, please feel free to leave a comment and talk about it. If you don't feel like chatting, that's fine too. Lurkers are welcome.

Most of my stories have been about my young daughter, Moodle. Obviously, that is not her real name. Nor is my name Happy, nor is my husband's name Max Powers. Since she's our only child and still so young, this is all fresh and new to us, and all these little adventures seem big. You'll learn a lot about her, I'm sure. She'll be two in May.

But I'd like you to know a little about me, too. Hopefully, as Moodle gets bigger and more independent, my world will grow back to its pre-baby size, while my butt does the opposite. So, in honor of my 33rd birthday, I figured I'd spend a few hundred words talking about lovable, furry old me.

I'm a working mom. I'm a physicist for a national lab, and I like what I do. I better like what I do, because I spent an unreasonable amount of time in school for it. I work remotely, which is hard sometimes. I'm separated from all the people who are also excited about what I do, and that can sap my motivation. I work part time, and spend the balance of my workdays wishing we had a maid/cook/personal assistant, just like everyone else in the world who has to clean and cook and run errands. My daughter is in a preschool-style day care full time. I will wax poetic about how much I love day care another day.

We moved to Indiana less than a year ago. I'm not a midwesterner, nor am I a country girl, so this transition was a little hard for me. It was the right choice for my family, so I'm happy about it. But, since I'm not from here, and I don't technically work with anyone, it has felt a little isolated. I'm working on being a big girl and making friends. Maybe this blog will help.

I'm an atheist and a humanist. This can be a little scary in rural Indiana. I've often considered putting an "A" or a Darwin fish on my car, but decided against it because I'm too busy to deal with vandalism. But I do volunteer and give blood, and advocate for science education and the advancement of science and math education for girls. I give to charity, and do what I can to make the world a better, nicer place (that's the humanist part). This is not intended to be a blog about freethought parenting, but it might sneak in here and there. Especially since I live in Indiana, a state that seems intent on violating the Establishment clause whenever it can.

I knit and crochet really poorly, play the guitar even worse, and need to exercise more. My husband and I are learning ASL, because we started with baby signs, and just kept going. We're getting better with vocabulary, but are almost to the point where we will need some formal instruction to become fluent. I used to be an above-average swing dancer, but now I really have to be in bed by 10:45 or so to function the next day, and that doesn't fit with the swing crowd's schedule. I'm probably still good.

Overall, I'm pretty cool. I can't tell a joke, but I have a wicked sense of humor. I like beer and wine, but find I can only have a few drinks in a week before my body doth protest. If you find yourself hanging out with me for any period of time, you will witness me say something that causes an awkward silence to descend over a room. Most people put up with stuff like that because, like I said, I'm pretty cool.

I'm Happy. Nice to meet you.

Guacamole Moodle

This is the post where I brag because we are finally seeing some payoff in Moodle's eating habits. We've been struggling for more than a year now to strike the balance between offering her new, different foods and offering her foods we know she will eat, while simultaneously tricking her into eating vegetables and meat. And making sure she doesn't get bored with her food choices.

Eating is a requirement for living. Why is it so complicated when there is a toddler involved?

Anyway, we've been plugging away at it for a long time now, and we are at the point where we try not to make a big deal out of anything. We just put it in front of her, and then show her that Mommy and Daddy are enjoying it. Works maybe half the time. If I'm worried she didn't eat enough, I throw some fruit on her plate at the end of the meal. Parenting is about compromise, or so I'm told.

Yesterday, Moodle and I went out for our first dinner at a sit-down restaurant with just the two of us. Usually when it is just the two of us and we go out, it's more like McD's. But I really didn't want fast food, and I had a long day, and didn't want to cook either, even something easy. Max Powers and I had discovered a local Mexican joint, and it seemed like a pretty relaxed place. And nachos sounded delicious. Plus, they give you warm chips and mild salsa while you wait for your food, which Moodle would love.

I let her play on the bench next to me while we waited for our food and ate chips and salsa. And when they brought out the guacamole I ordered, Moodle dug in with a chip without waiting to be invited. Score! She's rejected avacado in the past, but seemed to enjoy this, especially when she realized she could dip the chip in both guac and salsa. She was enjoying it so much, I started to worry that she was going to fill up on chips before our dinner even got there.

It turns out I needn't have worried (which is usually true). When dinner came she ignored my crazy nachos (so delicious! amazing queso) and dove into her wet bean burrito. They were considerate to put it on a cool plate (they usually serve on hot plates to keep the food warm longer), and once I cut it up she ate half a huge burrito with her hands. She even settled into her booster seat with no complaints.

When the server came by to ask how our food was, he just laughed. "She doesn't need to tell me she likes the food. You can tell from her face!" Which was, of course, adorably covered in beans and red sauce. As was her sweatshirt, my sleeve, and the table. She grinned at the waiter through a mouthful of burrito. When we were done, I cleaned up as best as I could, and left a good tip.

As we left, I was feeling like parent of the year. Dinner out with no behavior problems, great eating, and new foods. But apparently Moodle REALLY liked this place, because she started kicking and screaming as we were leaving. Certainly loud enough to disturb other customers, and so I hastened my exit as best as I could.

Sigh. Bubble was burst. But as Meatloaf said, two outta three ain't bad.

Spring Fever

Last night, both Fat Dog and Moodle were bitten with some kind of bug. The kind of bug that comes out the first time of the year it stays warm into the evening. The kind of bug that comes out after we spring forward, and daylight hangs on until almost toddler bedtime.

Moodle and I had to head to Walmart because she pooped on her shoes at daycare, and she didn't have any other play shoes in her size. She giggled, played, and flirted with everyone she saw. When we got home, it was still light, and still warm. She didn't want to play in the backyard, so we spent 20 minutes climbing up and down the stairs to our front porch, and running in circles in the driveway. I offered to get her some toys, but she didn't need them.

When we headed inside, Fat Dog seemed to have the same idea. While Max Powers took over playing with Moodle, I headed to the fenced-in backyard for some playtime with pooch. One of our hillbilly neighbors had his pitbull off-leash (!!!!), and it came over to sniff our hyper beagle through the fence. It marked said fence while Fat Dog freaked out, helpless to save her precious fence from the stench of pitbull pee. Then she chased her flying squirrel toy for 15 minutes, working through her outrage.

Nuclear Man from Superman IV

But the outside time didn't seem to drain either of them. Apparently, they are either plants or Nuclear Man, and run on sunlight. Because then we had a 20 minute marathon of dog and toddler running through the house, playing tag or chase or some other unintelligible game that they both seemed to love, and could not be stopped.

Add it up, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner ended at 6:20. Trip to Walmart: 1 hour. Front yard play: 20 minutes. Backyard play: 20 minutes (including 5 minutes of dog freak-out). Indoor play: 20 minutes.  That makes it 8:20, and time for bed. But Motoring Moodle is still going, and doesn't even have her PJs on. Usually by this time of night, we are well into books and snuggles.  What the heck is going on?

Damn you, Spring Fever!

We managed to round up Moodle, get her in PJs, and onto a lap for story time. I ended up having to lock the dog in our bedroom so they would stop the crazy positive-feedback loop. She ended up in bed after a few stories, and going to sleep just fine, only a few minutes late.

Afterward, Max Powers and I realized it was funny, and we were lucky to have an active kid with a great pet friend like Fat Dog.

But then I couldn't get to sleep, either. Damn you, Spring Fever!


edit: ps...Our family lives 20 minutes from Walmart, and it's the closest place to get stuff like that. It didn't take very long to pick out new sneakers. This should also explain our hillbilly neighbors. We have several of them.

pps...This was all after a full day at daycare, where she also played outside and they did their damndest to wear her out.

ppps...I am still exhausted from my bout with the flu last week, and I STILL couldn't get to sleep. Damn you Spring Fever!

The Flu Can and Will Knock Me On My Ass

Last week, I caught a flu. And I have not been that sick in a long time.

I get a flu shot every year, including this year. And it usually works. I'm a big fan of flu shots. I've got a lot to do, and I don't like being sidelined. I'd rather lose an hour to a doctor's appointment than lose a week to feeling miserable.

But this year, I got to lose both. And it was not pretty. I was a fever-ridden, sweaty, shivery, miserable ball of stinky, sleeping human. For FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS. I would get up every morning with Moodle, feed and clothe her, and get her to school. I would power through good-byes until she finally let go of my hand every morning, then somehow made it home to collapse, and sleep until the late afternoon. I would defrost something from the freezer for dinner as Max Powers took over pickup, cleanup, bathtime, and bedtime by himself. Once Moodle was in bed (with no storytime help from me), I'd wait until the time when I could safely take my next dose of nighttime cold medicine, wave miserably at my husband from a safe distance, and retreat back to bed, to toss and turn and ride out my fever until I passed out from whatever it is they put in that stuff to make you sleep.

It was hell. I missed my family, and I felt horrible.

This week, I'm over the fever and the other stuff, but I still feel so drained. I'm back at work, but I do not feel sparkly. And Max leaves again tonight for a meeting. At least no one caught it but me.

Fingers crossed no one does. Yuck.

Cat Food

This morning, Moodle helped herself to some of the cat's kibble. At least we don't feed the feline wet food.

Long-Term Memories

As Moodle gets older, we're starting to see long-term memory kicking in. And we couldn't have seen it if we didn't relax occasionally, and do something fun, memorable, and out of the ordinary. I mean, sometimes she spontaneously waxes poetic about waffles, but we eat waffles for breakfast pretty regularly.

A few weeks ago, we bought a membership to a Children's Museum in our nearest big city. It's about 1 hour and 20 minutes away. The membership included unlimited free carousel rides. While we had fun in many exhibits, the carousel and the "fun, fast horsies!" made a big impression on my daughter.

On Sunday morning, Moodle sat down next to me on the couch, and started asking if we could have "fun". "Sure, sweetheart. What would you like to do?" "Fun, fast horsies! In a circle! Round round! Fun!"

I made no promises at that point, but why argue? She was recovering from her latest ear infection, being well-behaved, and we hadn't been out all weekend. Plus, Max Powers had been gone all last week for work, and then all weekend for an annual engagement in his hometown. When she finally took a good nap, I called him up. Since he was driving home through the city, we made plans to meet there. Not only would she get to see the horsies, she would get to see Daddy an hour earlier than she would have otherwise.

She got up from said good nap, and we quickly left to make the drive. She was well behaved until the last ten minutes ("Up! UUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUuuuup!") We parked, recovered her shoes and socks (flung off as part of the self-amusement process), and headed straight for the carousel.

While she still hasn't worked up the courage to ride a horsie, she had a blast. We alternated carousel rides with the games and mazes that surround it. And when Daddy showed up, the first thing she did was drag him on the carousel. While they rocked a bench, I rode a horsie where she could see me, and snapped this pic.

She was right. Totally worth the return trip. And the membership meant I didn't stress over only being there for two hours. While we drove longer to get there and back than we actually spent in the museum, I'm sure it's not the drive she'll remember.

Moodle's First Act of Kindness - Age 21 months

It isn't that Moodle isn't kind. She's just a toddler. And she does do kind things, like give kisses and hugs and share her toys. But today, she designed and executed her first act of kindness. And it was wonderful.

She was up early with a cold, and fussed through breakfast preparations. Daddy had returned from a trip late the night before. Once she had calmed down to eat her breakfast (cold cereal and warm decaf milk-tea), I let her know that Daddy was home, and sleeping in our room. We talked about this for a little while, and she seemed happy at the prospect of getting to see him after she had finished eating.

We both finished our cereal and tea, I got her down from her chair, and I took the breakfast dishes into the kitchen. As I finished, she asked to be picked up, and started exploring a cabinet. I told her this is where we keep the dishes, and she asked for a bowl. A Daddy bowl. I didn't know what that meant, but I handed her a small plastic bowl that Daddy sometimes uses for ice cream. She laughed the little laugh that means that she had successfully communicated her wants, and had received them.

Then she asked for cereal. Confused, I told her she had just eaten cereal, and didn't need any more. Daddy cereal, she explained. Daddy doesn't eat cereal normally, so I was still confused. But I got down the Cheerios. Once again, happy laugh.

And then the toddler babble revealed that she knew Daddy was asleep, and she wanted to take him a bowl of cereal when she went in to say good morning. We go in to say good morning to Daddy every morning, and I guess she had missed it while he was away. It was clear she wanted to make it special today.

We put a few handfuls of cereal in the bowl, and she carefully walked back to our bedroom, and screamed "DADDY!". She was barely tall enough to put the bowl on the bed before I lifted her up to snuggle with Daddy. She presented him with his bowl, and I explained what had happened to a confused and groggy husband.

There were some spilled Cheerios. That's what DustBusters are for.