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)
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.
Try different keywords.
Try more general keywords.
Try fewer keywords.
Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Try different keywords.
Try more general keywords.
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.)
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