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Mar
7
Julia participated in her second Ribbon Festival on Saturday.
(And guess what?!?!?! THIS WOMAN was there! Her daughter played Lightly Row! We didn’t speak! It was awkward! For me! Because I don’t think she even saw me! Unless she did but pretended not to or something!)
Julia wore a pretty pink dress and played Cuckoo.
She earned a yellow ribbon. For some reason we spent most of the year thinking it was going to be purple but whatever. On the way home, Julia held her ribbon and said to it, “I love you and I’ll tell you why. First of all, you’re yellow…” Purple schmurple. Yellow suits her fine.
The judge had this to say about her performance:
What a beautiful performance! You played so confidently with a lovely smooth touch on the keys. I especially liked your very careful hand position - you obviously have listened to your teacher very well.
You played every note perfectly and kept a steady beat. I hope you will always love the piano and that you will continue to practice and learn. Thank you for playing today. I really enjoyed hearing you!!
Yeah. There are TWO exclamation points at the end.
The whole thing made me cry. I’d blame pregnancy hormones, but the truth is, I’m like one of those parents on American Idol who closes their eyes when their kid performs and cries over how proud they are. On the inside (because outwardly, I roll my eyes at those crazy parents). Except on this occasion where I really cried. Let’s just call it pregnancy hormones!
Lucy wore a NOT PINK dress to The Ribbon Festival.
And she was sufficiently proud of her sister.
Oh, and one more. Because I’m just a little bit proud of my girls.
Feb
20
Blessed
by Leslie
Today, my kitty Picasso was hit by a car.
And I’ve never felt so lucky.
I’m lucky because Dave got up extra early this morning and rewrote the plans we’d made the night before and went to town to get us breakfast. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have found her on the road on the way back home.
I’m lucky to have held enough sick, injured and dying animals - I mean, if I hadn’t dealt with Max losing his tail, I may not have been able to pick her bloody body up off the road without hesitation or fear so we could get right to the business of saving her life.
I’m lucky because my parents were there to assure me that dad had the kids and mom was taking the cat to the vet so I could go teach Kindermusik.
I’m lucky because by the time I got the estimate for her surgery, I had enough money sitting in my account to cover the bill when I didn’t yesterday.
I’m lucky because tomorrow my kitty will come home. Alive.
Feb
14
I tried my very best to give my girls more love than candy for Valentine’s Day, but it didn’t stop them from overindulging. Grandma gave them each a four-pack of ring pops. I gave them each a marshmallow lollipop. And that was the extent of the candy.
But here they are at 7 a.m.
Julia is double fisting ring pops and Lucy is showing off her unwound marshmallow rope that she carried and nibbled until it fused her hands together, along with an assortment of hair, lint and dirt, perhaps even a fly.
Julia called it the best day ever, which she recanted at 9:36 p.m. when she was made to GO TO BED FOR THE LOVE OF CANDY! By 10:01 p.m., it was renamed the worst day ever, which wasn’t far from the truth for me.
My blog was spammed early this morning, which isn’t a HUGE deal. I mean, it’s annoying and stupid and a waste of time. But no one has died from it. Yet. It happens now and then - some worthless jacknut with no moral values replaces my header with junk links. It’s happened often enough that I know how to fix it, but infrequently enough that I have to stir up my thinker to remember how to do it. And while I was poking around, trying to remember where that thing was I needed to click, I restored my database and lost everything I’d posted here since January 15th. INCLUDING YOUR COMMENTS. Your lovely, beautiful, and fabulous comments.
At least I still have those in my e-mail.
I called my web host for help restoring my posts, but they said what I did couldn’t be undone which I didn’t really believe so I sobbed and cried and begged until I was put on hold while the man went to “see what we can do.” Basically, what they could do was advise me to back my stuff up more often and have a great day.
Thankfully, God and some people invented Bloglines who had my posts sitting in a cache and I was able to repost them. This took a LONG, LONG TIME, however. And when I was done, I was rewarded with two break-up e-mails from subscribers who didn’t want to hear from me anymore. Apparently 33 republished posts was the limit on how much of me they can take in their inbox. Sorry, dudes. Of couse, you don’t know I’m sorry because you don’t want to read what I write anymore. I still love you, though. You’ll just never know it.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone that’s left. Back up your files.
Feb
14
No One Loves Yue Like Your Sister
by Leslie
my favorite Valentine
wasn’t even mine
Feb
10
but I was denied now that
Julia knows how
*They’re reading The Gas We Pass: The Story of Farts (My Body Science)
Feb
10
I always tell myself that if I just had one day off to catch up on things, my house would be clean. It turns out, that’s not true. We’ve been pretty much snowed in since Friday and it’s still a wreck. I manage to find just about anything else to do but clean.
Here’s how I avoided the dishes yesterday.
Feb
3
Julia’s Thought On Baby Names
by Leslie
ever name babies after
someone that is dead.”
Feb
3
My mother made Julia a fancy play dress for Christmas. The kid wore it for most of January. One Tuesday night, she posed next to me in her fancy dress on the stepstool at the kitchen counter while I peeled potatoes for dinner.
“One day, Lucy will wear this dress,” she told me as she stared off and up to the right. “When I get too big for it,” she crossed her arms over her heart, “it will be Lucy’s,” she said smoothing out the skirt. “And when Lucy gets too big for it,” she jumped off the stepstool with a twist to make it twirl and poof out, “the new baby will wear it.”
“What new baby?”
“You know, the next baby you have.” She positioned herself in an arabesque.
“What makes you think we’re going to have another baby?”
She laughed like I was a fool. “Of course you’re going to have another baby.”
Little did I know, at that very moment, Grimmett 3.0 had already set up camp in my uterus and was busily constructing a neual tube.
A week later, I hopped in the van, clutching my chest and shivering. “MY GOODNESS! It’s cold! My milks feel like they’re going to explode right off my chest!” (Yeah, we them “milks.”)
“Maybe you have a baby in your belly,” Julia chimed from the backseat.
“Huh?” I looked at her like she was nuts.
“The last time you said, ‘My milks feel like they’re going to explode!’ Lucy was in your belly. She made you feel that way a lot. I remember.”
I stopped. I thought. She was right. I felt pregnant. I was probably pregnant. I looked at her again. She wasn’t nuts. She was scary psychic and probably reading my mind. I immediately called Dave and told him we made Julia too smart. I mean, what is it with that kid? Because she was right. Three pregnancy tests later, it was confirmed: I was knocked up. Again.
My parents did a happy dance. And I asked Julia for a string of numbers and then went to play the lottery.
Feb
2
Three’s A Crowd?
by Leslie
on his back for one more kid?
Well, there better be.
Jan
31
to The McKinley Museum
for learning and fun
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Stuff I Dig
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
