flea

We went to a potluck last night - someone told me the Evite showed 126 people attending, and we weren't on the Evite. It was a zoo. I'd say easily 50 children.

The family has 3 boys, aged 8, 6, and 4. The middle one is in Casper's class at school. They have a play set in the back yard and a scrum of boys in the 4-6 range were all over it through most of the party, while Dillo did some swinging and eventually some climbing and sliding. As you know, Bob, Dillo is the World's Most Cautious Child, but in this case his caution was appropriate - some of these kids were little hellions. General roughness in the course of games I can handle (though Dillo, not so much) but I saw pushing, tackling, and punches thrown. It was a serious male competitive atmosphere. It made me glad I have a sensitive new age kid. Not that Dillo was the only one who was behaving well - he stuck close to our neighbor Henry and his friend Tommy, who had their own elaborate game involving a frisbee, shield, and two horns off of a viking helmet.

I guess the part that disturbed me was that few parents were paying attention at all, and I had the sense that even if the parents of the wilder boys had been watching, they would not have considered the level of physicality and violence anything to be concerned about. Among our neighbors we have some wilder sorts - Owen is a natural Tasmanian Devil type, and Spencer has a temper and is big and can be physical. But both of their parents keep a close eye on them and call them out when they behave badly - Spencer's parents more effectively than Owen's, but Spencer also has a year on Owen, and Owen is seriously a force of nature. But I think some parents feel that boys are boys, and excessive roughness and pushing are par for the course, and they should work it out among themselves. Judging by what I saw last night, it's not a good strategy.

In other boy news, Casper recently informed us that she kissed a boy on the lips at after school. His name is Zachary and he's also a first grader I think, and actually he's quite a looker. Casper really likes boys.

It was a perfect garden day yesterday. Acquired and/or planted:
4 tomatoes (Cherokee purple, German Johnson, Red zebra, Pink girl)
1 eggplant (oriental)
1 zucchini (though now mr. flea scares me and tells me I need 2 to pollinate?)
1 basil
1 parsley
6 torenia
8 white impatiens
pole beans

Thinned carrots and beets.
Hacked at grass, grown too tall from the week's rain for the reel mower to be very effective.
Trimmed dead blossoms and fallen stems off iris.
Admired peas (we'll have peas in a week or less) and staked up the ones that missed their support and flopped.
Admired buds on climbing rose.

At 3 NCistas began to descend, and we ended up with 9 adults and 2 children on chairs and blankets in the back yard. SA, arliss, smonster, luluminion, gchick, Calli, ste_noni and baby Ellie, and us. Due at least in part to being bored and showing off, Casper:
Colored the soles of her feet and the tip of her nose smurf blue with colored chalk (cute, not a problem)
Picked up the entire hunk of goat cheese and bit into it, only to be stopped mid-bite by the laughter of the assembly (cute, not a problem)
Discovered the joy of squirt-from-a-can whipped cream (which, remarkably, was also new to SA) (cute, only problematic in that today she keeps asking for more of that yummy squirty stuff)
Scribbed with a rock on the hood of our neighbor and landlady's shiny new exquisitely maintained black BMW (very very bad)

The last dampened our spirits somewhat, especially mr. flea's, as he undertook to go break the news to our landlady (who since January has undergone chemotherapy and surgery for colon cancer, and has been back in the hospital 4 times for complications following the surgery). While it seems likely the scratches can be buffed out, we still have to pay for the treatment.

And today we had Calli's strawberry jam for breakfast and have been remarkably lazy since. And Casper has misplaced 10 squares of my quilt fabric, I can't imagine where unless she ATE them.

Oh, okay, 6:30 am doesn't count as night, even if all the other people in the house are sleeping. I managed to put my insomnia (up since 4:30 cries by the Fuss) to good use for once, and planted mesclun lettuces (no room for my buttercrunch until I dig over more of the bed, although I suppose I could put them where the spinach has obviously failed to germinate...). Also watered Peas 1 (standing proud with 2 sets of leaves) and Peas 2 (just about to sprout) and the pansies in pots in the front yard. And scattered the last of my acid-loving-shrub fertilizer.

I have a pink azalea in bud and the rest I fear won't flower because they haven't been pruned; I am worst at pruning these excessively bushy bushes. I did do some work on the backyard camellias this past weekend (as mr. flea with great satisfaction removed all the wild onions from the lawn - he takes as much joy in this as I do in digging up dandelions!), but I ned a ladder to do more. Neighbor surely has ladder; must borrow. Otherwise violets are blooming in the lawn, and the more domesticated ones are getting ready; ipheion is in bloom; daffodils are at their peak for me; tulips are well up and beginning to make buds (they are in full bloom elsewhere). I am eager to see what the Turkish tulips come out like; all the rest are in their second year now so if they bloom at all I count it lucky. Most of my iris looks strong, and the freak early iris at the neighbor's has bloomed (it is a regular bearded iris but is against a south-facing and sunny brick wall and generally blooms with the daffodils!). I have sprouts of the lilies I planted in the iris bed.

Casper conversation (in the car):
C: I'm poopy!
me: Well, we're on our way home; we'll change your diaper when we get there.
C: It's a pull-up! You was wrong!
me: Yeah, I meant pull-up. You're right.
C: Nah, nah, you was wrong! (Sung with such pure joy it didn't come across as malicious at all).

She continues to be The Bossiest Two Year Old Ever lately, and all the bad-dream control freak issues persist, and I'm starting to worry that maybe school (where she is an obedient, quiet angel) is too controlling for her and is heightening the normal two year old assertion of independence and worries about control over the universe, which play out in such detail at home. It's hard to tell what's a normal phase and what's unusual stress. It's likely that I am just projecting my bad feelings about the school, and blaming them for everything. But boy am I tired of "IT"S NOT YOUR BLANKET; IT"S MY BLANKET" (blanket in question is on my bed) and the complete freakouts over things as apparently minor as the placement of the fork next to the plate.

"STOP HOLDING MY HAND! You're going to make me *serious*!"

This was on the walk home from the bus/Bataan Death March. I need a new plan, as I can't carry her any more and she won't walk at a pace fast enough to get us the two blocks in less than about an hour. I also can't sit down and sob and can't smack her about the head, both of which I wanted to do today. What I actually did was alternate between carrying her like a sack of potatoes and basically dragging her by the hand. Of course, as you may have gathered, we were in a hurry to get home today as I had a haircut appointment. (The "serious" part comes from Mommy's Getting Angry Time, which tends to sound like, "Casper. Listen to your Mommy. I am serious." And is, sadly, fairly useless. I keep trying to develop my Miss Manners Glare of Doom but I don't seem to have it down yet.)

Funny thing two was uttered in the car, as a motorcycle passed:
"That is the strangest car I've ever seen."

First of all, we had a good meeting at work this morning and I am being productive (activity right this minute notwithstanding), so I am feeling good. Despite:

Receiving a paycheck for $304 (partly reduced because the child care center's auto-withdrawal is screwed up and taking $150 too much, and partly because this is the paycheck that has the health insurance taken out, and partly because this year we're doing a pre-tax reimbursement account for child care, but still, $304 for 2 weeks' work is a hard pill to swallow!)

Casper seemed like she was going to go to bed fine last night, but faked us out at 8:50 and eventually didn't go to sleep until 10. Most of which mr. flea dealt with, but it still made me angry and kept me awake.

Casper was up at 5, asked to nurse. We had been doing this about every other night, and she'd nurse for a couple of minutes and then stop and go back to sleep, or ask for milk and drink it and go back to sleep. This morning when I cut her off after 5 minutes she melted down, refused milk, abused her stuffed puppy, etc. Would not let mr. flea near her, so we couldn't tag team and I was getting quite angry. At 6:20 I decided that the only way to salvage the day was for us all to get dressed and go to Elmo's for breakfast, which we did. Then Casper pitched a fit when they dropped me off at work.

I think we need to wean cold turkey now. Gah.

Against all odds, we have had an excellent afternoon, by which I mean that Casper fell asleep on me on the couch a little after 1, and is still sleeping (I wiggled out from under her at about 3:40). mr. flea is also doing his walrus impression in the bedroom, and I am preparing to make chicken and wild rice soup from the Whole Foods cookbook - it has mushrooms and sherry and a little cream and is excellent.

I think Casper came back wrong from her cold; at any rate, she came back 2, and it's driving me bananas. Lots of whining, lots of testing: paint on the wall, on a chair, marker on the table, all in front of me and with full knowledge that this is not how we behave; rmeote into the VCR twice immediately after I told her that was not allowed. Also the begging for TV or videos. And the not eating, plus whining. I think partly she's still in the recovery phase, and partly stir-crazy from being housebound with only Mommy and Daddy to play with for 5 days. I want my non-obstreperous kid back please! Did learn a useful new phrase: "on the tip of your nose" i.e. bugging me to no end, which mr. flea picked up from the Sri Lankan boys in his office.

Have acquired and am wearing drawstring waist corduroys from J. Jill (courtesy of gift card) and I love them. They are like corduroy sweatpants you can wear to work. Also useful for those of fluctuating waistline. We also exchanged our gift of a $50 popcorn popper (we like popcorn, but make it in a pan on the stovetop very happily) at Williams-Sonoma for a nice little 5-inch sankotu knife. Now we just need a big chef's knife (and to get all of our existing knives sharpened, since the new one makes them all magically dull). Were does one go to sharpen knives? We have a mix of stainless and old-fashioned.

Partly as a result of this week's cold, the weaning of Casper seems to be proceeding. Her regular nursing habits (usually 2 of these times: 4am, 4:30pm, 8:30pm) have not reappeared, and many times lately she has asked to nurse, tried very briefly, and said, "There's no nursie in there," and either pitched a fit or happily asked for juice. We still rely on the big guns for serious freakouts, though, like last night's 1am full-bodied screaming kicking freakout, which occurred spontaneously while we were all sleeping.

Since we found a piece of cheese on our driveway last night, presumably a gift from the Frat Boys Next Door (we have sanely concluded that they dropped a piece on the deck while making burgers, and tossed it like a frisbee, and it got lucky and made it through the hedge to our yard) I have been pondering the next step. I should buy a pack of Kraft singles and leave one every few days in some odd location about their property: on the front door mat, on a car hood, pressed to the window in the kitchen. (Since they seem not to lock their house - mr. flea went over at 2 to ask them to turn down the TV and found nobody was watching it and the door was unlocked - I could creep in and leave one on the DVD player!)