Today's family portrait

Bob

Eleanor is really into trains. I'm not sure where the fascination started. Perhaps it was on her first birthday when she was given a train that sings "I've been working on the railroad" while carrying a monkey, an elephant, a lion, and a train driver. Or maybe it was from riding one of the two miniature trains in our local regional parks. Whatever the origination, her obsession with trains has been fueled by the "Thomas the Train" tables that are in every kids' section of Barnes and Noble Bookstore. She doesn't know that they are blatant advertising for the Thomas books, videos, and train accessories. In fact she has never seen any Thomas paraphenalia except for the lovely wooden trains at the store. She doesn't know that Thomas is the blue train, she just loves to make them go round and around the tracks.

People without kids may not realize that these train tables exist, but they do. Oh, yes, they do, and I have my own fascination with them - from an anthropological standpoint, of course! These train tables are like social forums at which toddlers and preschoolers hash out the dynamics of real life under the not-so-watchful eyes of their bored parents.

I'm sad to say that this is where Eleanor has learned the art of hoarding. You see, the majority of the attendees at these tables are little boys who are very aggressive, and who blatantly ignore their parents' pleas for them to share, share, share. Of course, why would they listen to their parents when their parents are obviously more interested in reading their Blackberry e-mail or chatting on their cell phones than actually engaging in their childrens' world of play. So, playing with these untamed little bullies has taught Eleanor how to passively fend for herself. She has learned that the only way to play with the trains without having them grabbed right out of her hands is to quickly pick up three or four of them and then stand with them clutched against her chest. She watches the table for an opening around the table and then she rushes in to put her trains on the track for a few seconds until another kid comes near her. At this point she scoops up "her" trains and steps back warily until the intruder passes by. She loves to play with the trains, but spends most of her time trying to protect her bounty and to fend off the the grabbers.

To give her some alone-time with the trains Cap generously bought her a train track set and two of the Thomas-brand trains for her birthday. For those of you who don't frequent the train tables I should mention that each of the Thomas trains has a name which is printed on the bottom of the train car. But, Cap, who doesn't spend nearly as much time at the train table as I, was unaware of this fact. He bought her "Henry" and "Old Slow Coach " but when Eleanor asked him what the trains' names were, Cap told her that they were named Thomas and Bob. It's practically train sacrilege to refer to any other train by the name Thomas! And, Bob, well, I don't have to convince anyone that it just isn't a TRAIN name.

This brings us to today.

Eleanor did not take a nap today. Not a one. And, as the afternoon wore on we both became increasingly worn down. Eleanor got more and more frantic and I became more and more tired of listening to her talk and talk and sing and talk and sing. Normally I love her sweet voice and the hilarious songs she invents, but today the talking and singing escalated to a near manic point.

Unfortunately, around 6:30pm I had to pick up Cap from the train station this evening because he couldn't bike all the way home. For the first seven minutes of the twenty minute drive Eleanor yelled at me from the back seat "I want to go on the train! I want to go on Daddy's train!"

"I'm sorry, Eleanor, we can't go ON Daddy's train, but we can see it when it comes and when Daddy gets off the train."

"NO!!!"

(What do I say to that?)

Then, we passed under the tracks for the Metro train (we were going to the real train station, not the Metro). Eleanor switched her tune at this point. She started yelling "I want to go on the Metro train! I want to see the Metro train!"

"Sorry, Eleanor, we're going to the BIG train, not the Metro train. We can go on the Metro train another day."

"NO!!!!"

(Sheesh, it's bad enough when she HAS slept!)

So, after I explained to her for some time that she could go on none of the trains that she wanted to go on it got quiet in the backseat. She was thinking.

All of a sudden I heard "BOB! I want to see BOB!" over and over again.

"What?" I thought, "Who the hell is Bob...?" This really threw me for a loop because I was so prepared with comebacks about trains, and I couldn't figure out who she was talking about. "My god, where does she come up with this stuff?" And then I remembered.

And, at this point, out of sheer exhaustion, I just started laughing. Bob, freakin' Bob. There was no way I could come up with something to answer this. So I just listened to her cries for Bob. No matter how annoyed I get with her since she turned two, I can't help but love her. A tiny little girl who just wants her train named Bob. You've gotta love that.

America's Most Wanted Noise Makers

Holy Moly. The Fuzz just showed up at our house to tell us to keep it quiet. It is Sunday, 8:30am and Cap has been out working on the boat for two and a half hours. Yikes!!!

He was in the process of using his jigsaw to cut a piece of hickory for the tiller. Hmmmm... I wonder why this would bother anyone? Could it be that his jigsaw is probably older than I am, with a dull blade, and each cut was taking a LONG LONG time?

Apparently, no construction noise is allowed on Sundays before 9:00am. Hmph. What will Cap do between 5:30 and 9:00am? Will he sleep like a normal person? But who has normal sleeping habits when you have an 8-week-old baby and a two-year-old? Definitely not us.

Plus, who has normal sleeping habits when posessed by an unnatural obsession to build a sailboat? Definitely not Cap. So, while I have my tea and toast in the dusky light of morning, Cap usually works on his lovely boat until it is time to get ready for him to go to work.

Ah, but I guess the neighbors don't find it as lovely.

Sorry, neighbors!

But, maybe it wasn't the neighbors after all. Could it have been... Rose? Maybe she was trying to sleep in her crib and thought to herself, "DADDY, you are keeping me AWAKE!" So she called the cops.

Or perhaps it was... the jigsaw. "HELP! I'm too OLD for this! He's killing me!" So he called the cops.

Sorry Rose, and sorry Jigsaw!

I'm just glad that Eleanor wasn't out with Jer when the cops came. "Here's a noise violation and we're calling child protective services..." Great.

Naw, I'm exaggerating (did you guess?) It wasn't a brigade of cops, just one very nice female police officer. And, quite often Eleanor watches Cap working on the boat. She's learning all about the tools, and how to sand and paint, and she wears the "ear potetows" (ear protectors) when it is loud. Here is what it looks like when I peek out the window to check on the two of them.

Ponytail on toesies.

Here is a video taken yesterday of Eleanor and Rose being themselves: Rose is smiling in her bassinette, and Eleanor is putting an elastic on Rose's big toe.



If you can't see the video, here is a photo of Rose for you to feast your eyes upon.

Mommy Moke

This morning I thought it might be nice to take a shower.

Since becoming a mother two years ago my bathing standards have greatly diminished. Whereas I once took a shower every single morning, and leisurely washed ALL the parts, I am now on the every-third-day schedule, and I find that I have to make strategic choices about what gets shaved, and whether or not I have time to pumice.

Well, this morning was no different. Sweet 7-week-old Rose fell asleep around 9:30 am, and darling 2-year-old Eleanor was playing quietly for a few moments at the same time - amazing. So I ran my fingers through my greasy hair and asked Eleanor if she would mind bringing her "people" into the bathroom so that I could take a quick shower. Immediately this jarred Eleanor out of her quiet playtime and made her realize that she NEEDED MOMMY MOKE. This - to adults would be pronounced Mommy MILK. In other words it would be called nursing. Arg. Why Why Why did I ever teach her to call it Mommy Milk? Well, of course, it's because I thought she would get confused with cow's milk. Duh.

Nevertheless, the phrase has begun to drive me crazy. Ever since her little sister was born Eleanor DEMANDS Mommy Moke every couple of hours. And if I try to distract her, or give her something else (a hug, a story, something else to eat or drink), she just keeps it up. Mommy Moke, Mommy Moke, Mommy MOKE. Like chinese water torture, she says it over and over and over.

So, anyway, I thought it would be nice to take a shower.

I turned on the water. "Mommy Moke!"
"I'm going to take a shower Eleanor, we can have Mommy Milk later"

I got in the shower. "Mommy Moke!"
"Not now Eleanor, I'm in the shower."

I tried soaping up. "Mommy Moke!"
"Not NOW Eleanor, I'm IN the SHOWER. I will be right OUT!"

Then she changed tactics - "Mommy pick you up!" (she hasn't gotten her pronouns straight yet)
"How can I pick you up, Eleanor, I'm in the shower?!"

"Mommy MOKE!"

So, here is where I chose Pits over Legs, and decide to forgo pumice entirely.

"Mommy MOKE!"
"Eleanor, I am almost done. I will be out in a minute, PLEASE wait."

So, I was trying to get the last bubbles of soap out of my ears when all of a sudden I heard this piercing beeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
"WHAT the hell?!"

I looked out of the shower to see Eleanor's eyes all wide and worried, with the door to the bathroom wide open, and the smoke detector wailing on and off. I realized immediately that it was the steam from the bathroom, not smoke. But that didn't make me move any slower. I leapt out of the shower, dripping wet, grabbed a chair from the kitchen, ran down the hall towards the violent noise, closed the door of the bedroom where little Rose was fast asleep, jumped up on the chair and wrenched the machine off the ceiling. At this point I realized that the blinds to the living room windows were wide open and I was standing on the chair naked and wet. So, I jumped down, ran back to the bathroom where Eleanor was waiting, again with wide eyes and her hands over her ears.

"Mommy, dat?"

"That was the smoke detector, Eleanor. It was very loud. It makes that sound when the bathroom gets very hot and the hot air goes up to the ceiling." (How do I explain this???)

Then, out of the blue, I decided to give Eleanor a safety lesson well beyond her years.

"Eleanor, if you are in the house and mommy and daddy aren't here and you hear the smoke detector make this noise... (why am I trying to explain this to her, she's only two) you must try to get out of the house... because... (here is where I see her eyes glazing over) there could be... a... (I've totally lost her now) fire..." I trailed off realizing that I had failed to keep it simple, and then realized that I still hadn't wrapped a towel around myself, and then realized that her eyes weren't even looking at my face. They were fixated on...

"MOMMY MOKE."

"FINE."

A brand new day, a brand new blog

Let the Halleluiah Chorus sound! I got 6 hours of sleep last night... in a row... for the first time in 2 years! Yes, this remarkable event is why I have decided to start this blog today. It is a sign of hope, it is the mark of a new life on its way... it is probably a fluke. But hey, I feel good, and creative, and energetic, so here I am typing away.

Why is this an event worthy of comment? Worthy of starting a blog, even? Well, I have two daughters, Eleanor is two years old and Rose is seven weeks old. Eleanor has never slept through the night in her life. Not only will she not sleep through the night but, until seven weeks ago, Eleanor would not sleep at ALL unless her Mommy was next to her. That's right - me - next to Eleanor, wedged on my side because she wouldn't let me roll over. Me, paralyzed by a full bladder, but afraid to move a muscle for fear that Eleanor would wake up screaming for me. I'm serious - yelling - as if the inch that I had moved had actually taken me light years away from her. And, as if I would never return! (Where she gets this, I have no idea. Cap and I are "attachment parenting" all the way. I carried Eleanor eighteen hours a day until she was about 8 months old!)

But, seven weeks ago little Rose was born (more on that later) and Cap had to start putting Eleanor to bed, and rushing to her side every time she woke up yelling. It made me sad to have her leave our bed (more on that later, too), but it had to be done. I had to be on-call for Rose, and it was obvious that the two kiddies would be waking each other up every hour or so. So, Cap took over the nighttime Eleanor duty, and I dealt with nursing Rose every two to three hours. Occasionally Rose would sleep for four hours in a row, and it became apparent that I was getting the better end of the deal. Poor Cap, who was used to sleeping full nights, was suddenly stuck with Miss Wakey Wakey Eleanor, while I slumbered peacefully for several hours at a stretch. But, although I may have been feeling more rested than Cap, I still had not managed to achieve that legendary "full night's sleep" that so many other parents seemed to get somewhere arount the third or fourth month after their child's birth.

So my story ends on this high note: last night Rose slept from 11 pm to 5:30 am! And... I didn't wake up at all until 5 am, which was only because that is when Eleanor comes in bed with me to nurse. Which meant that... for the first time in two whole years... I slept for an entire night!

And with this victory... I blog!