I debated telling this rather embarrassing (em-BARE-ASS-ing!) story, but then I figured...what the heck! It's Christmas. The other morning, I opened up my bathroom cabinet, and, it being crammed tighter that a N Judah at the Powell Stop at 5:30, a bunch of crap fell out, spilling onto the floor. It was as I bent over to pick it up that felt I felt two little hands: one on each cheek. "That's Mommy's bum!" I exclaimed.
Snappy was overjoyed. "Mommy's bum! Mommy's bum!" She squealed as she paddled my butt with the same fervor that I often do to her cute little tushie. Too be fair, I'm not often naked...even in front of myself, so this might have been the first time she realized Mommy even had a bum. I glanced over at her as I was returning to my naturally clothed state. The look on her face confirmed my suspicions...she working out a very complicated mathmatical equation in her head. Mommy + Bum =... She almost had it. Suddenly, eyes gleeful in her Eureeka moment, she blurted out, "Mommy poops!"
Merry Christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Mini Phases
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Everyone always says, "It's just a phase", but Snappy has many adorable phases that I hope never go away. Like her complete obsession with her 13 month old cousin, her 2 year old BFF and her fat cat. (I admit I took advantage of her stalkerish love for that silly cat this morning, yelling "Ralphie, come watch. Snappy is going to poopie in the big girl potty!" It nearly worked.)
I feel I must start chronicling these phases because it occurs to me that they aren't going to last forever. For example, the "animal" phase where she had to sleep with, be with and carry an armload of stuffed animals at all times, is petering out. I can't say that I'll really miss that phase all that much because it was hard to get her out of the house since she couldn't hold all her treasures and walk down the stairs at the same time. Still, it made me laugh and I got some cute pictures.
I feel I must start chronicling these phases because it occurs to me that they aren't going to last forever. For example, the "animal" phase where she had to sleep with, be with and carry an armload of stuffed animals at all times, is petering out. I can't say that I'll really miss that phase all that much because it was hard to get her out of the house since she couldn't hold all her treasures and walk down the stairs at the same time. Still, it made me laugh and I got some cute pictures.
Sigh. Oh well. Thankfully, she still sleeps with them:
Not pictured, but all, somehow also crammed in the crib with her: Peacock, baseball teddy bear, Janice, Big Dora, Little Dora, Sonic, Ming Ming, Other Ming Ming, sheep who wears a jacket, hula Spongebob, Mister Crabs, Gary, Hello Kitty, The Pigeon Book and the trio of multi-culti baby dolls that sleep at the foot of the crib.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Christmas Miracles...Bah Humbug! (Warning: Shmaltz)
I've been thinking about Christmas Miracles lately. Glide ran out of food bags for the first time ever yesterday. Innocent children are getting sick...and staying sick. An old lady died in an apartment fire on Nob Hill the other morning. It seems that if you really, really need a miracle, tough shit, you won't get one. (Unless by "miracle" you mean "dead ticket", then you can get all you need...in 1990.)I don't dare hope for miracles anymore. I've developed a painful, paranoid faux-Buddhist need to live in the moment lest I spend every moment worrying about the possibility of not outliving Snappy. The upside is that I've developed a faux-Buddhist appreciation for "The Moment".
Okay, this is going to sound like something I made up for shmaltz sake, but I didn't. I swear. My favorite Christmas present ever was a hairdryer. I was 12 or 13, and I was just getting into stuff like that. I really wanted a hairdryer, but I didn't say anything. I'm not sure why, but we didn't ask for gifts, but just hoped for the best. When it came to clothes, my mom was sure to by the ugliest thing to ever hang on a sale rack, but with everything else she was spot on...buying lots of fun toys when we were little and make-up for my sister and I and rock magazines for my brother when we were teens. I didn't ask for a hair dryer, but all my friends had them, they made lots of noise and provided big, fluffy hair that was the style at the time. After I had opened my presents, I eyed the beautiful Con-air 3 speed and said, "we got a lot of stuff this year." I don't remember, maybe we did, maybe we didn't, but I got a hairdryer, so, in my mind, I made out. My mother said, "no, I only spent about 25 bucks on each of you." I was floored. I was sure hairdryer alone must be worth at least 50 bucks. I didn't believe her.
Now, of course, I realize that it was our poorest Christmas ever. My mom was single and waiting tables at a Chinese restaurant. She had no money, no husband, a mortgaged house with a failing furnace, 3 kids, a bunch of cats and dogs and then, one 9.99 hairdryer bought at CVS had hit a homerun and became the best Christmas present ever. If that isn't a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
More on the Cuteness
Runner ups:
Whoa, dude!
Oh dear! Oh my!
No cymbal crashes.
Oh mommy.
And, this is not so much a runner-up as it is an alternate number 1, everytime I wash her face or do something else she doesn't want me to do she says, "Help me Spiderman! Sling some webs.".
Whoa, dude!
Oh dear! Oh my!
No cymbal crashes.
Oh mommy.
And, this is not so much a runner-up as it is an alternate number 1, everytime I wash her face or do something else she doesn't want me to do she says, "Help me Spiderman! Sling some webs.".
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
More Cute Stuff Snaps Does
Now that she's talking, the top ten cute things Snappy says has been compiled by a crack team of scientists.
10. Don't worry, unicorn.
9. Where's my Grouchy Monster?
8. The puma eats a snack.
7. Hello Jackhammer. I want to talk to you!
6. Weee! Woo hoo!
5. Don't swear.
4. I'm swearing!
3. Silly coffee maker/vacuum cleaner! What are you doing here?
(it must be noted that Snaps is terrified of the vacuum cleaner and the coffee maker.)
2. Don't cry anymore, Hello Kitty.
1. Hello.
Yeah. That's right. Hello. No, you don't understand, see, whenever Snappy is caught doing something she ought not to, she dances over to me and, doing an amazingly accurate imatation of a Monty Python housewife, says "Hellooooooooooo! Hi mum!"
Next up: the runner ups.
10. Don't worry, unicorn.
9. Where's my Grouchy Monster?
8. The puma eats a snack.
7. Hello Jackhammer. I want to talk to you!
6. Weee! Woo hoo!
5. Don't swear.
4. I'm swearing!
3. Silly coffee maker/vacuum cleaner! What are you doing here?
(it must be noted that Snaps is terrified of the vacuum cleaner and the coffee maker.)
2. Don't cry anymore, Hello Kitty.
1. Hello.
Yeah. That's right. Hello. No, you don't understand, see, whenever Snappy is caught doing something she ought not to, she dances over to me and, doing an amazingly accurate imatation of a Monty Python housewife, says "Hellooooooooooo! Hi mum!"
Next up: the runner ups.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Snappy the Sailor Girl
So, since my last post was so sad...so so so sad...I thought I'd make it up to y'all by telling you this seriously hilarious story:
As you might know, Snappy has been in speech therapy for the past few months. It's been doing wonders for her vocabulary and grammar, but almost nothing for her pronunciation. (Which is why we're pretty darned sure that we're in for a second palate surgery...hence the sadness.) I told the speech therapist early on that I was afraid that when she did start talking, it'd be just a string of swear words, and he said, "yeah. That happens with these kids."
Makes sense, when you think about it. If your toddler isn't talking, then they don't repeat everything you say, if they don't repeat everything you say, you don't watch what you say because, even though you know you should, you don't get any negative reinforcement when you do swear (i.e. a little potty mouth running around the playground, shocking grannies). Parents are a lot like children. They too need positive and negative reinforcement.
And without it...well, let's just say that for a while now, I've suspected that Snappy has been saying F You! Now, I knew she'd been saying shit because she said it five times when I accidently dropped her Goldfish crackers into the cat's water dish. Hey, at least she used it correctly. But she was also, with quite the sneaky little gleam in her eye, saying something that sounded a lot like Uck OO. Hmm. What to do? I can't tell her not to swear if she's not swearing. So I had to tread lightly.
"Snappy, are you saying Achoo?"
"No," She said giggling. "Not achoo!"
"Are you saying Got you?"
That's when she squealed, "Uck you, La-ee!"
Ah ha. Oh yes. I know where she heard that. Many times. All over the city. From her mother, who thinks many ladies need to go uck themselves and has a hard time keeping her mouth shut when she encounters one. Oh boy.
I didn't know what to do then, but a few days later, at the grocery store, in the middle of a tantrum, I told Snappy she couldn't have some candy, and she screamed "Uck Oo! Uck Oo! Uck Oo!" It was strange. I found myself actually being glad that Snappy's 1st palate repair had left her with a palate too short to allow for proper pronunciation of plosives like p, b and good ol' F! Having the tantrumy child in the grocery store is one thing, having a filthy mouthed tantrum thrower is yet another. I hugged her, kissed the top of her head and said, "Oh Snappy, that's really naughty. You can't do that." She stopped.
I guess my days of swearing at ladies are over. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted. Damn b words had it coming.
As you might know, Snappy has been in speech therapy for the past few months. It's been doing wonders for her vocabulary and grammar, but almost nothing for her pronunciation. (Which is why we're pretty darned sure that we're in for a second palate surgery...hence the sadness.) I told the speech therapist early on that I was afraid that when she did start talking, it'd be just a string of swear words, and he said, "yeah. That happens with these kids."
Makes sense, when you think about it. If your toddler isn't talking, then they don't repeat everything you say, if they don't repeat everything you say, you don't watch what you say because, even though you know you should, you don't get any negative reinforcement when you do swear (i.e. a little potty mouth running around the playground, shocking grannies). Parents are a lot like children. They too need positive and negative reinforcement.
And without it...well, let's just say that for a while now, I've suspected that Snappy has been saying F You! Now, I knew she'd been saying shit because she said it five times when I accidently dropped her Goldfish crackers into the cat's water dish. Hey, at least she used it correctly. But she was also, with quite the sneaky little gleam in her eye, saying something that sounded a lot like Uck OO. Hmm. What to do? I can't tell her not to swear if she's not swearing. So I had to tread lightly.
"Snappy, are you saying Achoo?"
"No," She said giggling. "Not achoo!"
"Are you saying Got you?"
That's when she squealed, "Uck you, La-ee!"
Ah ha. Oh yes. I know where she heard that. Many times. All over the city. From her mother, who thinks many ladies need to go uck themselves and has a hard time keeping her mouth shut when she encounters one. Oh boy.
I didn't know what to do then, but a few days later, at the grocery store, in the middle of a tantrum, I told Snappy she couldn't have some candy, and she screamed "Uck Oo! Uck Oo! Uck Oo!" It was strange. I found myself actually being glad that Snappy's 1st palate repair had left her with a palate too short to allow for proper pronunciation of plosives like p, b and good ol' F! Having the tantrumy child in the grocery store is one thing, having a filthy mouthed tantrum thrower is yet another. I hugged her, kissed the top of her head and said, "Oh Snappy, that's really naughty. You can't do that." She stopped.
I guess my days of swearing at ladies are over. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted. Damn b words had it coming.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Baby gets the Blues
Yesterday, Snappy dug out Sneakers, the Seaside Cat and said, "I want to read kitty cat story." The kitty cat story? But Snappy, that story makes you cry. She just lowered her little eyebrows and said "I want the kitty cat story." A "serious business" face she reserves for asking for ice cream cones...and only for asking for asking for ice cream cones. Hm.
Well, maybe she's matured. After all, the kitty cat story made her cry when she was one and a half. She's nearly two and a half now. She plays intricate imagination games with her dolls and animals, she makes up wild stories about the owl, puma and Moll Moll, she sings Twinkle Twinkle Little star on the potty, she sits on a potty, she talks in full sentences, she answers questions in full sentences, she makes demands in full sentences, she swears! and she has trouble deciding whether to be a witch or a pirate for Halloween...such a grown-up problem. Such a big girl! Surely, she no longer cries when the kitty gets his paw pinched by the crab. Surely she's past that.
Apparently, she is not (and don't call her surely).
I don't pretend to be a child development expert, but I've noticed that at around 18 months or so, babies get the blues. Not all of them, but I've seen other kids her age cry at sad songs (why do baby music teachers ever even go near the key of D minor? Have they learned nothing from Spinal Tap?!). As slap happy and snappy go lucky as she most often was, Snappy was also a bit of a blues master herself. She cried at the sad songs in music class. She also cried when the rocket ship went up up up up and then down down down down in Yo Gabba Gabba, when the V Tarzan-yelled through the Bronx Zoo on Sesame Street, when Swiper got his swiping butt stuck in a bottle on Dora and of course, when a hapless black cat got his paw pinched by a vicious crab in one of her, otherwise, favorite books. And OH the pathos! Capital O capital H the PATHOS! Her mournful sobs once sent an entire playground of 3 year-olds into a chorus of sympathy crying after a big kid refused to let her stomp on his sand castle.
Actually, it was the playground incident that started me thinking. It was the way the whole 46th Avenue playground just stopped. The kids stopped to watch this little 1 1/2 year old cry, the older ones, choking back tears themselves, the younger ones crying right along with her. The parents stopped and watched their own kids. They seemed surprised by the stunning show of empathy. And probably these kids were more sensitive than your average sand sifter, but there was something about that moment...that seemed different...sadder than it should've been. Toddlers got their feeling hurt on that playground everyday. Why did Snappy seem to have a DEE-Vine right to the blues?
She certainly has a gift for it, even more so now that she can talk. Pairing her already heart-string-pulling sobs with lines like "he scared me!" when the cat hisses at her, "I'm sorry." when she thinks someone is mad at her and, the all time soul-smacking tear-tugging "I want to go home!." She waits to bust that little gem out for emergency situations: like clinic visits, doctor's appointments and banks without lolly-pops. "I want to go home". Such a great line! Classic to the human condition, completely knocked-up with emotion, as a song lyric, it rivals "Son, pack your things, I've come to take you home" and makes "I'm serious as cancer when I say rythmn is a dancer" look like a bucket of shit (hm...that's not really hard to do, is it?).
Oh, and now she changes it up and says things like, "He wants to go home". Like when Ruby and Louise are working on their first-aid badge for bunny scouts, and they wrap Max in bandages. Snappy points at him and says, "he wants to go home." I put two and two together. Max looked like he was at the doctor. Snappy thought the doctors office was a torture chamber and behaved as such when placed inside it. Snappy needed to go to the doctors office from time to time. Here, I thought was a perfect opportunity to discuss her feelings and apprehension about people who wear stethoscopes.
"Do you think Max is scared?" I asked, in my best mommy voice. Snappy thought about it and opened her mouth to speak, but what came out was the beginnings of a wail that was sure to be sadder than Sophie's Choice (a movie with a premise so sad, I refuse to watch it), The Things They Carried and every Disney movie ever made...had I not shut it down with a quick, " I meant, do you want a Popsicle? That's what I meant..Max is fine. Everything is fine. Lime or orange? Why not both?"
But yesterday, when she pointed to a picture of Sneakers in the back seat of a car and, on the verge of woeful wailing, said, "he wants to go home," I started to think that maybe, in this case, two and two make five. Snappy is two, she's not an idiot. She knows that cat doesn't want to go to the beach, any more than Max wants to play doctor with his sister and her crazy bunny friend or Swiper wants to get stuffed in a bottle. She knows that some asshole shoved that fox in that bottle...possibly the same one who decided it would be a good idea to take a cat to the ocean. And it makes her cry because she's been down that lonely road. And if she's smart enough to figure that out, she's smart enough to know that something is up when she hears mom and the speech therapist saying things like "second palate surgery" and "recovery time".
And if she is that smart, then she knows that if it were up to me, she'd never have the blues again. She'd have the grouchies, the angries, the tantrums and the just plain sads, but never the blues. But it's not. And she will.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Quickie post!
Look how cute Snappy is getting! Look at her. Just look at her. Cute, huh? I did that. (thanks to Nikki for the professional-looking headshots)
Monday, July 14, 2008
Snappy Ruled the Pool...
So, we're home now, and we're all glad to be home (Snappy yelled "home" from the moment we started packing up the hotel room to the time she ran in the door, ready to greet the poor fat cat with a barrage of squeals and tickles.) In the Top Ten List of cool shit that we did, Meeting Giant Clams at the aquarium (Snappy is well-schooled in Spongebob Marine Biology and said, "Clam" when she saw them), Coming face to face with a tiger at the Zoo and our Pretty Woman-esque, Paris Hilton-style shopping spree at the ABC Stores would be at the top, Daddy Monster losing his wedding ring in the Pacific would be at the bottom, but the spot at #1 would, for all of us, surely be Snappy learns to swim.
Our first day there, we arrived to find that our room wasn't ready. We were disappointed. We left our stuff with the bell hops...and wandered around..until we wandered outside...and there it was...in the middle of this strange tourist trap...Waikiki Beach. I heard Polynesian rhythms in my head as I watched a group of people row a native-style canoe in the pale blue surf. So this was it. This was Hawaii...not a secluded waterfall in the middle of a rain forest, but one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen set straight across a busy city street.
Because the good people who designed the beach were smart enough to put in a wave wall,so that kids could swim without having to fear for their lives (ahem! Ocean Beach!) We were able to take Snappy down to the water, only to discover that Snappy had developed (along with her new stranger anxiety) a fear of water and wanted nothing to do with it and ran around the beach, knowing full well that we would chase after her. Oh yeah...did I tell you it was a record -breaking heat wave? Yeah, people from Hawaii were complaining about the heat. We were accustomed to life in a fog bank...the last thing we wanted to do was chase a two-year old in the mid-morning sun around the beach.
So, I took her to the pool. Still the blazing sun, still the searing heat, but it had something the ocean did not: steps! I sat her down on the first step and told her to splash in the water. She did this for awhile and then I suggested she try the next step. She did it! I decided to push my luck and try for the next step. At first, she seemed game, but then she balked...and bolted. I caught her just before she went sprinting across the slick tile. I started over again. Slower this time.
The whole process repeated itself a few times before I remembered that Snappy's speech therapist said we should make motor boat noises for her. "Snappy, would you like a motor boat ride?" She shook her head. No she did not. I grabbed her by the waist and spun her in the water Bbbbbbbbrrrbbbrrrbbbbb! Snappy's expression turned from fear to anger to surprise to joy!
"Swim! Swim!" She said.
"That's right! Snappy's swimming. Just like the ducks!" We ventured out into the pool.
"Swim! Swim!" Snappy said at the 5 foot mark, pushing at my arms. It was then that I realized that by "swim swim" she meant "Yes, mom, I've got this swimming thing down. You can let go now. Come on. Let go! Oh for Chrissakes mom, you've got to cut the apron strings sometime."
Much to Snappy's mild annoyment, I did not let go, but I did take our little Swim Swim show on the road. Technically...across the road. To Waikiki beach, where we spent many sunscreen-covered hours splashing and saying stuff like "swim! swim!" and "Bbbbbbbbrrrbbbrrrbbbbb!" Oh...and losing wedding rings, but that's no where near as important as the swimming.
Our first day there, we arrived to find that our room wasn't ready. We were disappointed. We left our stuff with the bell hops...and wandered around..until we wandered outside...and there it was...in the middle of this strange tourist trap...Waikiki Beach. I heard Polynesian rhythms in my head as I watched a group of people row a native-style canoe in the pale blue surf. So this was it. This was Hawaii...not a secluded waterfall in the middle of a rain forest, but one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen set straight across a busy city street.
Because the good people who designed the beach were smart enough to put in a wave wall,so that kids could swim without having to fear for their lives (ahem! Ocean Beach!) We were able to take Snappy down to the water, only to discover that Snappy had developed (along with her new stranger anxiety) a fear of water and wanted nothing to do with it and ran around the beach, knowing full well that we would chase after her. Oh yeah...did I tell you it was a record -breaking heat wave? Yeah, people from Hawaii were complaining about the heat. We were accustomed to life in a fog bank...the last thing we wanted to do was chase a two-year old in the mid-morning sun around the beach.
So, I took her to the pool. Still the blazing sun, still the searing heat, but it had something the ocean did not: steps! I sat her down on the first step and told her to splash in the water. She did this for awhile and then I suggested she try the next step. She did it! I decided to push my luck and try for the next step. At first, she seemed game, but then she balked...and bolted. I caught her just before she went sprinting across the slick tile. I started over again. Slower this time.
The whole process repeated itself a few times before I remembered that Snappy's speech therapist said we should make motor boat noises for her. "Snappy, would you like a motor boat ride?" She shook her head. No she did not. I grabbed her by the waist and spun her in the water Bbbbbbbbrrrbbbrrrbbbbb! Snappy's expression turned from fear to anger to surprise to joy!
"Swim! Swim!" She said.
"That's right! Snappy's swimming. Just like the ducks!" We ventured out into the pool.
"Swim! Swim!" Snappy said at the 5 foot mark, pushing at my arms. It was then that I realized that by "swim swim" she meant "Yes, mom, I've got this swimming thing down. You can let go now. Come on. Let go! Oh for Chrissakes mom, you've got to cut the apron strings sometime."
Much to Snappy's mild annoyment, I did not let go, but I did take our little Swim Swim show on the road. Technically...across the road. To Waikiki beach, where we spent many sunscreen-covered hours splashing and saying stuff like "swim! swim!" and "Bbbbbbbbrrrbbbrrrbbbbb!" Oh...and losing wedding rings, but that's no where near as important as the swimming.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Snappy's New Religion
During a fun visit to the Honolulu Zoo today, Snappy found her new god: this elephant statue:
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Snappy goes Native
I know I owe many blogs about how cute Snappy is, and believe me, those are coming, but I'm going to Blog about our big trip to Hawaii for the next couple days. The first installment I like to call "Getting There" or "The Horror. The Horror.".
We started Wednesday am like gangbusters. We woke up Snappy at 6:30 am. It was about 4 hours too early to be getting up by her clock, but we told her we were going to get on a plane and she sprung into action: ready for adventure.
watching Ratatouille with Dad.
A few hours later, it came to pass that I, who had delegated walking-the-high-energy-toddler-up-and-down-the-aisle duty to Dad for the entire flight (there and back, but sh. He doesn't know that, yet.), got the first poopy diaper duty. I changed it in the tiny ass bathroom like the seasoned pro I am. I of course had an extra pair of much-needed pajama bottoms (stupid leaky safeway brand diapers) and plenty of extra wipes to clean up her car seat (while holding a two-year old under my arm like a clutch purse, of course). I resisted the urge to run up and down the aisle, pumping my fist and singing Queen's We are the Champions (with the lyric we are changed to I am.
After a bit of a rough patch (aka full-blown tantrum). I pulled yet another miracle out of my pocket (aka a Big Big World DVD). "Ook!" Snappy exclaimed, And just like that...tantrum over. The miracles continued as Snappy fell asleep just as the words "dangerously low battery" flashed across the screen. Ha! I laugh at danger.
She looks cute, but she's stinking up the entire plane.
When the plane touched down, like a couple of secret ops on a kill-or-be-killed mission, Dad and I managed to get her out of her car seat and into the broom-closet-sized bathroom before the remove-your-seatbelts ding had fully dinged. I still had plenty of wipes, but no more bottoms, so I threw a pajama top on her legs and hoped no one would notice...and possibly inform the autorities.
Don't let the early-80's-mobster-style limo she's rolling in fool you...she's not REALLY wearing pants.
Next...Snappy rules the pool.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
This is why toddlers shouldn't use Google
Your search - 0-yn nn nb9hb9nbyhhj[]hg;'[ghn';b.n l;phg jhph0o 09y 9b90t6u/im0 - did not match any documents. Suggestions:
Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
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Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Try different keywords.
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Try fewer keywords.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
For the love of crullers, people!
I'm never willingly up at 4am. Even for something fun. Even for something really fun, like whisky sipping or roller skating or puppy patting or any combination of the 3. But last night, for some strange reason, I found myself up at 4am, arguing about coffee with a bunch of online coffee jerks. Is this how it begins? Am I going to be one of those crazy people who stay up all night arguing about nothing with nobodies on the Nowhereweb? Should I just buy the xtra-strength Clearisil now?
But this wasn't nothing. This was West Coast v East Coast, and, in an unprecedented move, a West Coast wimp leveled the first blow. Shocking! I simply had to fire back. My honor as a New Englander (for the first 27 years of my life anyways) was at stake. Now, I know some of you who know me will point out that I not only married a West Coaster, but I gave birth to one. But as the only non-native San Franciscan in the family, I feel I have to represent.
Take my grandmother (still alive, by the way). She's from South Carolina, but lived most of her life in the Boston area, The South Shore mostly. Still, she never lost her accent, never stopped doing weird Southern (I assume)things like putting mint jelly on toast and always made cornbread with her Boston Baked Beans, instead of the traditional brown bread*. She held on so tight to her roots, that I, a true-blue 5th generation New Englander, brought up to believe that everywhere south of Connecticut is exactly like Deliverance, believed (and still do a bit) that South Carolina was the best, prettiest, most refined, and plain old kick-ass (my words not Gram's) state in the whole country.
That is how I hope Snappy will someday feel about New Hampshire...and maybe even the South Shore...hm, that might be asking too much. New Hampshire definitely...and Cape Cod maybe?
Who are these Patriots you speak of and why do you expect me to cheer for them?
But I'm getting ahead of myself, back to the Coffee Battle waged mainly by me and some intern at the SF Chronicle. I was checking in on SF Gate, because truth be told, I was up at 3 AM because I was freaking out about preschools and I was going to see if they had any resources. Then I saw this:
Oh really? A blind unbiased taste test for the five spoiled, organic fair-trade farmer hugging West Coast office workers who just happened not to be telecommuting that day? And none of them like Dunkin Donuts coffee? Quel surprise, Ivy League. Dunkins is not for you or for anyone who spells donuts with an "ugh". I maturely responded with this (for some strange, sleep-deprived reason, I mentioned Brains...that's Brains the beer....not the organ.) :
"I find three holes in your supposedly fool proof plan:
Firstly of all, just like, you know, the further from Wales you get...the yuckier the Brains. It's like that with DD coffee the further you get from Boston.
Also, you can't test Dunkin's coffee on spoiled office workers. This is a diner brew that only Truckers, beat cops and gumshoes can test.
And lastly, what did you drink it with a low-fat scone or something pansy-ish like that? No. No. No. You have to drink it with a cruller. A cruller! Eh. Spoiled West Coast office workers don't even know what a cruller is."
Of course, I expected the other New Englanders still awake to put the smackdown on these bean snobs, but no...just someone who likes to eat French crullers (okay, but yuck) a jerk who thinks California has better pizza than NY (yeah, and Noah's makes bagels...not one-holed puffy bread rolls) and a moron who thought that Dunkins default coffee preperation is cream and sugar. Moron. I had to clarify:
"Oh. And Dunkins does NOT autimatically add cream and sugar. It's just that for some strange reason West Coasters order regular coffee. Why? If you don't say regular, do you think you're going to get decaf...against your will??? In New England, regular means "with cream and sugar". We thought it safe to give regular a meaning because we figured no one would be dumb enough to just add extra words all willy-nilly like to their coffee order."
Am I crazy? Or just a New Englander who will never be a Californian but will never ever leave the Sunset district of San Francisco? Sigh. Oh well. Maybe the next time I'm awake at 4am, it'll be to catch the Sox game opener in Japan. Where I'm sure Daisuke will beat the freash-roasted stuffing out of the As.
*Brown Bread is a molasses bread baked in a tin can. It can have raisins or not and it is DELICIOUS.
But this wasn't nothing. This was West Coast v East Coast, and, in an unprecedented move, a West Coast wimp leveled the first blow. Shocking! I simply had to fire back. My honor as a New Englander (for the first 27 years of my life anyways) was at stake. Now, I know some of you who know me will point out that I not only married a West Coaster, but I gave birth to one. But as the only non-native San Franciscan in the family, I feel I have to represent.
Take my grandmother (still alive, by the way). She's from South Carolina, but lived most of her life in the Boston area, The South Shore mostly. Still, she never lost her accent, never stopped doing weird Southern (I assume)things like putting mint jelly on toast and always made cornbread with her Boston Baked Beans, instead of the traditional brown bread*. She held on so tight to her roots, that I, a true-blue 5th generation New Englander, brought up to believe that everywhere south of Connecticut is exactly like Deliverance, believed (and still do a bit) that South Carolina was the best, prettiest, most refined, and plain old kick-ass (my words not Gram's) state in the whole country.
That is how I hope Snappy will someday feel about New Hampshire...and maybe even the South Shore...hm, that might be asking too much. New Hampshire definitely...and Cape Cod maybe?
Who are these Patriots you speak of and why do you expect me to cheer for them?But I'm getting ahead of myself, back to the Coffee Battle waged mainly by me and some intern at the SF Chronicle. I was checking in on SF Gate, because truth be told, I was up at 3 AM because I was freaking out about preschools and I was going to see if they had any resources. Then I saw this:
Oh really? A blind unbiased taste test for the five spoiled, organic fair-trade farmer hugging West Coast office workers who just happened not to be telecommuting that day? And none of them like Dunkin Donuts coffee? Quel surprise, Ivy League. Dunkins is not for you or for anyone who spells donuts with an "ugh". I maturely responded with this (for some strange, sleep-deprived reason, I mentioned Brains...that's Brains the beer....not the organ.) :
"I find three holes in your supposedly fool proof plan:
Firstly of all, just like, you know, the further from Wales you get...the yuckier the Brains. It's like that with DD coffee the further you get from Boston.
Also, you can't test Dunkin's coffee on spoiled office workers. This is a diner brew that only Truckers, beat cops and gumshoes can test.
And lastly, what did you drink it with a low-fat scone or something pansy-ish like that? No. No. No. You have to drink it with a cruller. A cruller! Eh. Spoiled West Coast office workers don't even know what a cruller is."
Of course, I expected the other New Englanders still awake to put the smackdown on these bean snobs, but no...just someone who likes to eat French crullers (okay, but yuck) a jerk who thinks California has better pizza than NY (yeah, and Noah's makes bagels...not one-holed puffy bread rolls) and a moron who thought that Dunkins default coffee preperation is cream and sugar. Moron. I had to clarify:
"Oh. And Dunkins does NOT autimatically add cream and sugar. It's just that for some strange reason West Coasters order regular coffee. Why? If you don't say regular, do you think you're going to get decaf...against your will??? In New England, regular means "with cream and sugar". We thought it safe to give regular a meaning because we figured no one would be dumb enough to just add extra words all willy-nilly like to their coffee order."
Am I crazy? Or just a New Englander who will never be a Californian but will never ever leave the Sunset district of San Francisco? Sigh. Oh well. Maybe the next time I'm awake at 4am, it'll be to catch the Sox game opener in Japan. Where I'm sure Daisuke will beat the freash-roasted stuffing out of the As.
*Brown Bread is a molasses bread baked in a tin can. It can have raisins or not and it is DELICIOUS.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Daily Cuteness
Snappy has a new crush: Spongebob Squarepants. Which is cuter than it sounds because Snaps knows 5 words. One of them is meow and the other is yeah. So I can show off her genius by saying things like "Snappy, do you like Spongebob?"
Snaps: Yeah
Me: Who's your favorite character?
Snaps: Meow.
Me: Gary, huh? What about the pirate?
Snappy puts her hand over one eye. (She made that sign up herself. She's made up lots signs, but how often is she really going to need to use a sign for "pirate"? Maybe she's not the genius I thought she was.)
Easy Rider Goes Live!
Check it! Live Nude Blogs! Wearing Clothes! Especially me! I'll be bringing fun Snappy visual aides and telling dirty stories that I can't really tell in my baby blog...I mean come on. This is a mommy blog, I can't be talking all dirty and stuff, but at Stage Werx...I'll be letting the filth fly.
Luggage Tuesdays presents:
"My Blog Live: Online Onstage"
Live performances from Bay Area blogs Good Crafternoon!, Geek Girl Daily, Easy Rider: Strolling in SF, and Luggage Tuesdays
WHEN: Tuesday, March 25, 2008 @ 8pm
WHERE: Stage Werx 533 Sutter Street, San Francisco
TICKETS: $12 at the door
INFO: Mike Spiegelman, mike@spiegelmania.com
WEBSITE: www.twitter.com/mybloglive
San Francisco, Ca. - "My Blog Live" kicks off an ongoing series of live performances from the people behind the sites. This live show highlights the variety of genres and personal voices found on blogs, with performances of new pieces and previous posts from four Bay Area bloggers:
Erikka Innes, Geek Girl Daily, Geek Blog
Host of "Geek Comedy Night" at Rooster T. Feather's, comedian Erikka Innes is no stranger to geekiness.
Melinda Bailey, Easy Rider: Strolling in SF, Mommy Blog
Professional SF guide with Foot Tours, Melinda Bailey writes about strolling with Snappy throughout the City.
Leslie "Miss Dottie" Van Every, Good Crafternoon, Crafts Blog
Leslie Van Every writes about knitting, sewing, and searching through the Alameda Flea Market.
Mike Spiegelman, Luggage Tuesdays, Humor Blog
Comedian Mike Spiegelman presents readings and sketches about family restaurant menu parodies, phone books send-ups, Superman boners, and jokes about salad.
My Blog Live runs Tuesday, March 25 @ 8pm at Stage Werx 533 Sutter Street, between Powell and Mason, San Francisco.
Luggage Tuesdays presents:
"My Blog Live: Online Onstage"
Live performances from Bay Area blogs Good Crafternoon!, Geek Girl Daily, Easy Rider: Strolling in SF, and Luggage Tuesdays
WHEN: Tuesday, March 25, 2008 @ 8pm
WHERE: Stage Werx 533 Sutter Street, San Francisco
TICKETS: $12 at the door
INFO: Mike Spiegelman, mike@spiegelmania.com
WEBSITE: www.twitter.com/mybloglive
San Francisco, Ca. - "My Blog Live" kicks off an ongoing series of live performances from the people behind the sites. This live show highlights the variety of genres and personal voices found on blogs, with performances of new pieces and previous posts from four Bay Area bloggers:
Erikka Innes, Geek Girl Daily, Geek Blog
Host of "Geek Comedy Night" at Rooster T. Feather's, comedian Erikka Innes is no stranger to geekiness.
Melinda Bailey, Easy Rider: Strolling in SF, Mommy Blog
Professional SF guide with Foot Tours, Melinda Bailey writes about strolling with Snappy throughout the City.
Leslie "Miss Dottie" Van Every, Good Crafternoon, Crafts Blog
Leslie Van Every writes about knitting, sewing, and searching through the Alameda Flea Market.
Mike Spiegelman, Luggage Tuesdays, Humor Blog
Comedian Mike Spiegelman presents readings and sketches about family restaurant menu parodies, phone books send-ups, Superman boners, and jokes about salad.
My Blog Live runs Tuesday, March 25 @ 8pm at Stage Werx 533 Sutter Street, between Powell and Mason, San Francisco.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Juno Flu
Remember that scene from Juno, where our title gal is drinking large gulps of Sunny D and staring persistently and meaningfully at The Sex Chair. Well, replace Juno with our girl Snappy, the Sunny D with a sippy cup of milk and the Sex Chair with Ralph's dish and you have what went on in our house for about twenty minutes this morningish. I call it morningish because Snaps didn't get her cute little bum out of bed (mine...of course) until after 11. Those of you that know her, know that she sometimes likes to sleep in all Auntie Mame-like, but it was the Auntie Mame-like world-weary hang-over that gave me pause.
What could be wrong? She seemed so full of angst! Was she wondering why that toddler didn't want to play with her that one time? Or did she finally realize that the cat really doesn't like her? Is she contemplating the existence of Mom? Or...Oh no! Is it some terrible disease that only House can diagnose after about an hours worth of dramatic content?
She decided to take a nap on my shoulder. I continued to worry. Suddenly! She lifted her head. She looked at me with eyes that said "Emergency! Call 9-11! I've done it before, I'll show you how!" Then she puked all over me.
I felt a little dumb for not figuring it out the first time, but I guess that the angsty world-shattering pathos of an unwanted pregnancy during the teen years is probably the same as a bit of an upset tummy during the toddler years.
Here are my treatments for the Juno Flu (patent pending)
Water, kitty, puke sheet, Yo Gabba Gabba
Dry toast, crayons, more water, more Yo Gabba Gabba
Lots and lots of rest
What could be wrong? She seemed so full of angst! Was she wondering why that toddler didn't want to play with her that one time? Or did she finally realize that the cat really doesn't like her? Is she contemplating the existence of Mom? Or...Oh no! Is it some terrible disease that only House can diagnose after about an hours worth of dramatic content?
She decided to take a nap on my shoulder. I continued to worry. Suddenly! She lifted her head. She looked at me with eyes that said "Emergency! Call 9-11! I've done it before, I'll show you how!" Then she puked all over me.
I felt a little dumb for not figuring it out the first time, but I guess that the angsty world-shattering pathos of an unwanted pregnancy during the teen years is probably the same as a bit of an upset tummy during the toddler years.
Here are my treatments for the Juno Flu (patent pending)
Water, kitty, puke sheet, Yo Gabba Gabba
Dry toast, crayons, more water, more Yo Gabba Gabba
Lots and lots of rest
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Snappy n Pee Wee Sittin' in a tree!
So, one of Dadmonster's best friends rented out the Red Vic for her birthday for an 11am pajama party featuring the epic cinematic masterpiece Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Snappy's first movie theater! I was sure she would be naughty, so we tried to show up as late as possible. Since 11 am isn't pajama time for us, we changed into our pajamas before we left. I even wore my bunny slippers.
The Red Vic peeps were kind enough to realize that the crazy lady wearing pajamas and curlers in her hair standing outside with a toddler and a cellphone must be an invited guest and let us in. We were offered an array of breakfast treats including new-to-snappy treats: Pop Tarts and Fruit Loops. She couldn't believe her luck. She thought it was Halloween and Christmas all rolled into one. She calls this new holiday Brunchmasween.
So yes, Snaps is 20 months, not exactly prime movie watching age, but she did AWESOME! Okay, first she tripped in the dark and cried, but hey, who doesn't cry when they fall on their face? After that (and a brief trip to replenish the Fruit Loop supply) she did AWESOME. We sat on the stairs in the back, so she wasn't required to sit. That was key for the awesomeness. And the awesomeness was, indeed, awesome. She laughed when everyone else laughed. Clapped when everyone else clapped. Danced to all the music (even the Big Shoe Dance) and made kissy noises at the big Morgan Fairchild/ PW Herman love scene. Everyone agreed she had great timing (Snappy, not Morgan Fairchild...but she was okay). I think all movie theaters should have a run-around area (or in Snappy's case: twirl around) for toddlers.
Afterwards, me and Dadmonster carried her 12 blocks (it might have been 8, but I was promised 4...so the extra grumbling made it feel longer). Despite the fact that it was The Haight (home of the Red Guy), everyone stared at us. This made me realize we needed to take pictures. Note the sugar crash in this picture...and that Snappy is still clutching an empty bowl that once held her beloved TREASURE (aka Fruit Loops)!
The Red Vic peeps were kind enough to realize that the crazy lady wearing pajamas and curlers in her hair standing outside with a toddler and a cellphone must be an invited guest and let us in. We were offered an array of breakfast treats including new-to-snappy treats: Pop Tarts and Fruit Loops. She couldn't believe her luck. She thought it was Halloween and Christmas all rolled into one. She calls this new holiday Brunchmasween.
So yes, Snaps is 20 months, not exactly prime movie watching age, but she did AWESOME! Okay, first she tripped in the dark and cried, but hey, who doesn't cry when they fall on their face? After that (and a brief trip to replenish the Fruit Loop supply) she did AWESOME. We sat on the stairs in the back, so she wasn't required to sit. That was key for the awesomeness. And the awesomeness was, indeed, awesome. She laughed when everyone else laughed. Clapped when everyone else clapped. Danced to all the music (even the Big Shoe Dance) and made kissy noises at the big Morgan Fairchild/ PW Herman love scene. Everyone agreed she had great timing (Snappy, not Morgan Fairchild...but she was okay). I think all movie theaters should have a run-around area (or in Snappy's case: twirl around) for toddlers.
Afterwards, me and Dadmonster carried her 12 blocks (it might have been 8, but I was promised 4...so the extra grumbling made it feel longer). Despite the fact that it was The Haight (home of the Red Guy), everyone stared at us. This made me realize we needed to take pictures. Note the sugar crash in this picture...and that Snappy is still clutching an empty bowl that once held her beloved TREASURE (aka Fruit Loops)!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Snap Yoga
Just a quick update of Snappenings:
Snappy hung out with Grandpa so we could do this weird thing called "going out". We went to a Vietnamese American Diner called...something like...The Americano Cafe. Being Americanos, we ordered the onion rings...not as good as the grilled cheese...and they have Iced Ovaltine!!! How cool is that?
Next, we went to Hocky Haven for a lovely cocktail. I had two sips of my Jack on the rocks and abandoned it because it was Jim Beam. Why do bars put Jim in the Jack bottle? Do they think we won't notice? We ALL notice. Nuts to Hockey Haven.
Then, best of all, We hit The Balboa for Juno. Which would be my favorite movie I've seen in years, even if I actually had seen a movie in years, and even if Bleeker weren't based on my college boyfriend. Thundercats Ho!
In Snapptastic news, Snappy has been relying upon me a little too heavily to label her world, still I must be doing something right because she sniffs all flowers and gives all cats kisses and treats (aaa-umph). She has perfected dance moves: the twirl, the thigh slap, the stompy-stomp, but is still working on the moonwalk. Oh, and just this morning she perfected the assisted hand stand.
Snappy hung out with Grandpa so we could do this weird thing called "going out". We went to a Vietnamese American Diner called...something like...The Americano Cafe. Being Americanos, we ordered the onion rings...not as good as the grilled cheese...and they have Iced Ovaltine!!! How cool is that?
Next, we went to Hocky Haven for a lovely cocktail. I had two sips of my Jack on the rocks and abandoned it because it was Jim Beam. Why do bars put Jim in the Jack bottle? Do they think we won't notice? We ALL notice. Nuts to Hockey Haven.
Then, best of all, We hit The Balboa for Juno. Which would be my favorite movie I've seen in years, even if I actually had seen a movie in years, and even if Bleeker weren't based on my college boyfriend. Thundercats Ho!
In Snapptastic news, Snappy has been relying upon me a little too heavily to label her world, still I must be doing something right because she sniffs all flowers and gives all cats kisses and treats (aaa-umph). She has perfected dance moves: the twirl, the thigh slap, the stompy-stomp, but is still working on the moonwalk. Oh, and just this morning she perfected the assisted hand stand.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
The Two Faces of Snappy
The cute side: When the bye-bye song* from It's a Big Big World comes on, she twirls. Cute. If she's in a good mood, she'll do it if you just sing it. Cute! Cute!
Not Cute: At 20 months, she is fully aware of the capabilities of TiVo (come on...she's not 19 months anymore) and demands that I replay the bye-bye song over and over and over and...over and she likes to watch the 4th and 5th viewing upside down. Damn you Snook you giant stoner sloth!
The cute side: When Snappy comes across something she likes or thinks is cute, she reacts to it much the way she reacts to the apex of all things cute and likable: Ralph the big fat growly hissy cat who thinks she is the antichrist. So yeah, she hugs and kisses and offers imaginary treats to all sorts of things; dogs, babies, stuffed animals, her dolly, Cookie Monster, Daddy's tummy, the laptop, Mommy's kitty cat earrings, pictures of cats, babies, doggies and duckies, her pink cowboy boots, her pajamas, and most recently mom's ring. When a baby kisses your ring, it's not just cute...it's hilarious. Everytime she does it, I say "Yes, kiss my ring because I am Pope of the apartment."
Not quite so cute: Last night she was watching The Colbert Report with me and her Auntie...when all of a sudden, she wanted somthing and she wanted it NOW!!!
"What? What? What? What? Oh. Stephen Colbert said the word "Pope" and now you have to kiss mommy's ring? Sure. Here you go." Okay. So it was kind of cute.
The OUTRAGEOUSLY cute side: Snappy in general and all the Snaptastic things she does.
The Not Cute at All Side: She hates to sleep, but gets very grouchy and tantrumy when she is tired. As does mom.
Even Less Cute: She has figured out the stove guard and has used this info to nearly burn the house down See pic.
*The world keeps spinning round and round it's true/We've had our time and now it's through/but you and I forever will be friends/we'll try to touch the sky where clouds never end/and you and I together in a Big Big World/we'll try to touch the sky in a Big Big World/ And we'll look for wonder all around/ and you'll find me hanging upside down/ you have to go I know it it's time/ so give me five/ this whole world is yours and mine
Not Cute: At 20 months, she is fully aware of the capabilities of TiVo (come on...she's not 19 months anymore) and demands that I replay the bye-bye song over and over and over and...over and she likes to watch the 4th and 5th viewing upside down. Damn you Snook you giant stoner sloth!
The cute side: When Snappy comes across something she likes or thinks is cute, she reacts to it much the way she reacts to the apex of all things cute and likable: Ralph the big fat growly hissy cat who thinks she is the antichrist. So yeah, she hugs and kisses and offers imaginary treats to all sorts of things; dogs, babies, stuffed animals, her dolly, Cookie Monster, Daddy's tummy, the laptop, Mommy's kitty cat earrings, pictures of cats, babies, doggies and duckies, her pink cowboy boots, her pajamas, and most recently mom's ring. When a baby kisses your ring, it's not just cute...it's hilarious. Everytime she does it, I say "Yes, kiss my ring because I am Pope of the apartment."
Not quite so cute: Last night she was watching The Colbert Report with me and her Auntie...when all of a sudden, she wanted somthing and she wanted it NOW!!!
"What? What? What? What? Oh. Stephen Colbert said the word "Pope" and now you have to kiss mommy's ring? Sure. Here you go." Okay. So it was kind of cute.
The OUTRAGEOUSLY cute side: Snappy in general and all the Snaptastic things she does.
The Not Cute at All Side: She hates to sleep, but gets very grouchy and tantrumy when she is tired. As does mom.
Even Less Cute: She has figured out the stove guard and has used this info to nearly burn the house down See pic.
*The world keeps spinning round and round it's true/We've had our time and now it's through/but you and I forever will be friends/we'll try to touch the sky where clouds never end/and you and I together in a Big Big World/we'll try to touch the sky in a Big Big World/ And we'll look for wonder all around/ and you'll find me hanging upside down/ you have to go I know it it's time/ so give me five/ this whole world is yours and mine
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