Running With Scissors

Waking up from a nap is disorienting.  Waking up from a forbidden nap is disorienting and chilling.  Where am I? What day is it?  Oh no.  How long have I been asleep? Oh God.  Where are the kids and do I even want to open my eyes right now?

No.  Today, the answer would most definitely be no.

Greta was staring at me on the couch when I finally came to.  She looked a little off, but my eyes were blurry and I didn't have my glasses on.  I decided she probably just needed a shower.  I should have closed my eyes and gone back to my coma.  What followed was a slow motion survey of the natural disaster zone.  Frosted Flakes crunched into the carpet.  Pantry wide open with one remaining granola bar from a box of six on the shelf.  Refrigerator rifled through, missing fruit.  Sugar bowl on the counter missing its lid (uh oh).  Then I saw it.  Long blond hair.  Not on a head.  Piles of it.  All over the bedroom floor.

Oh. My. Holdingmybreath.

I think Noah spoke for her first.  She just wanted her hair out of her eyes.  Greta parroted him.  I just wanted my hair out of my eyes.  Like Noah.

Oh. My. Shockandawe.

Stomp on my heart.

Among my first thoughts was that my mom was going to kill me.  Greta and Noah are going to spend next week with the grandparents, without Kevin and I.  Somehow this translated to guilt over having broken one of the grandchildren before handing them over.  I also needed to call Kevin immediately to describe to him the half Sinead / half mullet look Greta had chosen for herself.  And beg for forgiveness.  With a teeny side of guilt.  I mean, he knew I had a rough shift last night and that I was rapidly deteriorating when he left me helpless with two small children at eight am.  Pesky job.  Third was the call to the salon for the damage control cut appointment.  I pray that our stylist is feeling particularly inspired tonight.  I don't see a style that involves symmetry in Greta's near future, but maybe there's something absolutely adorable that can be done.  Or tolerable, at least.  Hats are in for spring, aren't they?

It was several hours before I could bring myself to re-enter the crime scene to gather the bunches of locks.  Several more before I could bring myself to take pictures.  I do consider myself fortunate.  I was out cold.  Like, waaaaay gone.  It could have been far worse.  They could have started a small fire.  Or used my phone to call 1-900 numbers.  Or eaten all my Nutella.

Still a beautiful sight.

Just a bit off this side.

Wow.  Wow.  Wow.

Not Done Napping

An extra blog post this week.

Noah gave up napping a few months ago, which means Greta's been trying to do the same. Trying.

I brought Noah's carseat in from the car to adjust the straps. Made a video of Noah reading and sat down to movie-ize it. Put a movie on for Greta while I computed. Didn't notice it had gotten very quiet. Found her like this. Buckled in and all.  Safety while watching Caillou is important.

So not ready to give up napping.

Dot Has a Dog

I have been rotting my brain for the last two months, reading nothing at all.  Or, almost nothing.  I've read the first 50 pages of The Help three times now.  I think it's time to give up.  Historical fiction is clearly not my thing.  Instead, I'm watching every episode of Fringe.  Most of them repeatedly because I fall asleep on the couch less than 20 minutes into an episode.  How much mileage do you think I can get out of this growing people is hard work pregnancy thing?

Noah is twelve books ahead of me in 2011 so far.  Oh yes, the boy can read.  I claim partial credit for teaching him.  I bought the Bob Books.  Kevin and Noah have done the rest.  The man was born to teach.  I was born to make video of others' hard work.  Check it out.

Treading Water

I was a total slacker with the camera this week.  I was also a total slacker with participation in society and life in general.  I'll try to do better next week.  When the temperature is one degree, Kevin takes the kids outside for night hikes.  When the windchill is negative five, I make the kids stay inside and make funny faces.

Moon in Gemini

I may have mentioned before that Kevin occasionally surprises me by relocating virtually every piece of furniture in our home while I'm away at work.  It has happened again.  We're talking extremely heavy bookcases and sofas an entire floor away from where they used to live.  Surprises.  One of the things I love about him.

I know a very little bit about astrology.  I know that I am a Virgo and Kevin is a Capricorn and that is one of the reasons that we are madly in love and having babies together.  I know that Noah is an Aries and Greta is a Libra, and that my mom is an Aries and my dad is a Libra, which is synchronicitous.  One of the primary things that I do not know about astrology is whether I truly believe in it.  I am not hard at work trying to reconcile my beliefs.  I definitely find it fascinating and that's good enough.  Especially when my friend, Sonia, talks to me about moon signs and rising signs and seventh houses and Mercury.  I think she has the birth chart of everyone she knows stored in her brain - it's pretty amazing.

Evidently Kevin's moon is in Gemini.  Some might say this could have been part of the reason that in our first eleven years together we had twelve different addresses.  In the last four years we've had only one.  It's possible that this is making him insane and driving him to move the upstairs TV downstairs and the downstairs TV upstairs.  It could be that this is how he channels his cabin fever and it has nothing to do with his sun sign being an earth sign and his moon sign being an air sign.  I'm willing to consider that as a possibility.

My moon is in Sagittarius.  I can't recall what that is supposed to mean, but I know someone who could remind me.  Girl who is completely non-committal about her ideologies?  That's probably it.

Here are the Aries and Libra climbing partners last weekend at Vertical Endeavors.  Climbing up was only about one third as fun as letting go and slow motion falling down.

Noah's first climb.

Hands and feet all working together.

Still got it.

Mid-fall.  Photographer about to get brained.

Greta, a long way away.

See Greta's leash?  It's a tow rope.  30 pounds are not enough to tell the auto belay to let you down when you let go of the wall.  She did not appreciate being tethered like this.