On Fish, Books and Football

There is a new resident in our house, a small beta fish named Shape. Shape is a beautiful beta. He is blue and red and very fancy. Bunny loves him very much.

I was all for Bunny having a fish. In fact, I told her she could have a fish when she was six. She is not six. She is three and a half. I did not buy her the fish, daddy did. My main concern about bringing a fish into the house was not Bunny. It was the two furry felines that live with us. They like to hunt and in fact have each caught a mouse (or two). I was afraid that if the cats knew there was a fish, that fish would be no more. Then Bunny would be sad and we'd have to buy a new fish and the cycle would start again.

But he is here now. He will live in Bunny's room. The door will remain closed at all times. And hopefully the cats will remain blissfully unaware of his existence. Fingers crossed.

For my birthday last week, my parents bought me a book. Its not just any old book. It is THE book, Andrew Henry's Meadow. The book that I had them read to me every night of my childhood. It was a long book but I had it memorized. My dad would try to skip some pages but I always knew and called him on it every time. I loved that book. (They may or may not be making it into a movie which I am so going to see.)

So it was amazing to see it again after all of those years. I read it to Bunny, telling her it was my favorite story when I was her age. And then she had me read it again. And again. And again. Its a really long book. Really long. So I tried to skip a page and she called me on it.

Well played, Mom and Dad. Well played.

Now on to my football picks. The winners are in red and bold:

Tampa Bay @ Washington

NY Giants @ Kansas City

Cincinnati @ Cleveland

Oakland @ Houston

Tennessee @ Jacksonville

Seattle @ Indianapolis

Detroit @ Chicago

Baltimore @ New England

Buffalo @ Miami

NY Jets @ New Orleans

St. Louis @ San Francisco

Dallas @ Denver

San Diego @ Pittsburgh

Monday Night

Green Bay @ Minnesota

Combined Score - 45

Who Taught You How To Drive?

Bunny is bossy.

Bunny is opinionated.

Bunny is a back seat driver.

When she was little, I would narrate everything I did, especially while driving. "Mommy is stopping at the stop sign. We always stop at the stop sign."

As she got older and started to go on walks to the park and around the neighborhood, we explained the rules of the road. Stop signs mean stop. Red lights mean stop. When the light turns green the cars can go. And so on.

Bunny thought it was pretty cool. She loved to point out the stop signs in the neighborhood. She loved watching the lights turn colors, from green to yellow to red and back to green.

But then, as children are often wont to do, she flipped it all around on me. Now when we get in the car, I have to follow the rules of the road closely or she's on me like a hawk.

"Momma, you have to stop at the stop sign."

"Momma, the light is red, stop now."

"Momma, the light is green, why aren't you driving."

"Momma, you are going to fast."

"Momma, you are going to slow."

"Momma, are you sure this is the way to Ama's house. This doesn't look like the way. Are we lost?"

"Momma, are you sure you don't want me to drive? I think I can drive better than you."

Okay maybe she didn't say the last one, but it sure feels like it. And only 12 more years before I can nag her about the way she drives.

Seven AM

It is ridiculous to control time. It is a fools errand. Time is fast. Time is fluid. Time is an artificial construct created as a measure for humans.

How long is 60 million years? 39 years? 11 years? 3 years? Yesterday? Today? One hour? 5 minutes ago? 3:30? 7 am?

In reality none of it means anything. Those numbers are just a measure for marking the passage of time.

But I try to control time. I try to set schedules. I try to hold on to some semblance of order. If I am master of the clock, then I am master of my life. It is not true but I try to believe it nonetheless.

Things must happen at a certain time. We must get up, we must eat breakfast. Mommy must shower. We leave the house. We return. We eat lunch. We nap. We wake. We play. We make dinner, we eat dinner. We play. We bathe. We sleep.

This is the routine that makes up our lives for better or for worse. This routine is dictated by the clock. Or at least I would like it to be. Other members of my family have other ideas.

They (she) pushes sleep until the last possible second, until eyelids cannot remain open any longer. They (she) wakes with the sun no matter what time the eyelids were shut.

I fight the good fight every day but I cannot control time. I cannot control her interpretation of time, her interpretation of when it is appropriate to sleep and to wake.

But I can control one thing. We do not under any circumstances go downstairs before 7:00 AM. Regardless of when she wakes, 6, 6:15 or 6:30, I gather her up all warm from sleep. I bring her to my bed. We snuggle. I try to ignore her requests to play. I try to teach her to read the digital clock. I try to control time for just one fleeting moment.

Threeasaurus Rex

January 14, 2008. That is the day Bunny turned two. I braced myself for the toddler maelstrom that was to follow. I looked at my sweet baby and wondered when she would turn into a terrible tyrant, when would she start throwing tantrums, when would she become TWO.

I waited and I watched. January became February, winter became spring, became summer became fall and finally winter again. And it never came. Not that there weren't the occasional outbursts, there were. But the terrible part never came.

And I wondered why. Was it because she was so verbal that she had the ability to make her feelings known? Was it because she was so sweet natured that terrible was beyond her comprehension? Was it because she was so curious about the way things worked that she figured it out on her own?

Or was it because, as some people told me, three is much worse than two?

Well January 14th rolled around again. January became February became March and there were no problems. Maybe, just maybe we would luck out. Maybe we would not be the parents of a Tyrannosaurus Rex of a three year old.

Well I was wrong. I just learned that it is really difficult to be three years old.

As she loves to tell me, Bunny is not a baby. But she is also not a big girl. There are things she can do all by herself and there are things she can't. There are things that she wants me to do for her and there are things that she wants to do by herself. But her ability does not always match her desire. She wants independance and control. But she also wants the security of knowing that Mommy and Daddy are around, just in case.

She wants to try out her new found abilities, exactly when she wants to whether or not its appropriate. Running becomes running away from you. Jumping becomes jumping off of things way, way too high.

There are days when her ears appear to have fallen off. No matter how many times you repeat yourself, the message does not sink in. Days when you are hoarse from trying to get her to listen when you are only met with a "Huh?" and a turn of the head. "Why don't you listen Bunny?" "Because listening is no fun, momma."

Slights, real and perceived, can result in uncontrollable sobbing. "Why did you put baby allosaurus in the dino cave?" Toys that cannot be found in 2 seconds must have been deliberately hidden by a parent. "Momma where did you put parrot? You hid him from me."

Opinions are exerted more forcefully. A simple no becomes "NO!!!!" accompanied by stomping of the feet.

In other words Bunny is behaving in a completely normal, age appropriate way. And mommy is left trying to figure out how to deal with this new Threeasaurus Rex.

So That's How Babies Are Born

* I am still looking for one more person to share the love with. Seriously people, I am going to send you free stuff (including something I made, like jewelry). I want to share with you, I'd like you to pay it forward too but that is up to you.

Bunny knows that some animals have babies by laying eggs and the eggs hatching. She also knows that some animals (and people) have babies in their tummy. She has no idea what this means but she knows there is a difference.

Today Bunny and I were watching a video of Kevin Henkes' "Crysanthemum". Its a cute little story about a mouse named Chrysanthemum. At school all the little girl mice make fun of her name because is a flower's name. One of her teachers is pregnant and says she loves the name and will name her baby Chrysanthemum if its a girl. So then the girls like the name and all want flower names too.

Well the story says the teacher had a "healthy baby girl". Bunny asked what that meant. I told her the baby was born and was no longer in the teacher's tummy.

She turned to me, all wide eyed innocence, and said "How did she get her hand in there to get it out?"

"Um, the doctor does it," was my reply.

Oh The Lengths I'll Go

to do something educational for my child.

Lately Bunny has become obsessed with trees. She wants to know the different kinds of trees, why evergreens are always green, why the other trees lose their leaves. She wants to know how they grow, what they eat etc. Every car ride is filled with questions about the trees that we pass.

I've tried explaining it to her to the best of my ability but she doesn't quite get the fact that trees have roots and that they get nutirients from the soil and the sun. Actually I don't quite get it myself.

But then I had a flash of brilliance, we would grow our own tree so she could see how it works.

So in order to take one for the team, I was forced to do the following:






All so I could do this:



In hopes that a tree will grow. I hope she appreciates the sacrifice.