My favorite videos on the Internet right now:
And the Can’t Hold Us tribute to my alma mater, Walla Walla U.
Watch them both. They’re sure to make you smile.
As a parent of an iPad-loving toddler, the article The Touch-Screen Generation was really intriguing. Especially since we claimed we weren’t going to let him have any screen time before age 2. Never, ever makes claims like that until you have children.
In 1961, before she had even completed her application to Harvard, a woman received a letter warning her about the potential hardships she would face if she chose her career over family and children. This is her response today.
Ten Things I Learned From Loving “Anne of Green Gables” made me nostalgic for elementary school, when Anne and Gilbert were my romantic heroes.
I needed a good laugh, especially after moving this week. Thanks to B for sending me the link to The Most Embarrassing Things Ever Blurted Out By Kids.
Savings Books From My Son made me teary eyed because I’m already dreading the day when my toddler’s favorites, like Chu’s Day and Little Blue Truck, get shoved under the bed for new favorites, books he doesn’t want to share with us and stays up late with a flashlight, just like his dad.
In college I took a really, really great honors class that required us to purchase the Sunday New York Times and journal about articles that jumped out at us. I would pick up the newspaper in the bookstore and spend the bulk of Sunday morning reading – my favorite was the magazine, but I enjoyed everything about the experience. I loved touching the newspaper, the print rubbing off on my fingers. I clipped articles and journaled. I saved the magazines from week to week and when it was time to move out at the end of the year, I recycled them, sad to part with them, that memory of Sunday mornings.
We’ve been in our new house for four days. It feels like an eternity because we are so tired. Tired of unpacking, tired because our toddler has serious anxiety about living there and cries and cries and cries (toddler anxiety about moving is a topic for another post), tired of living with piles everywhere and tired of not eating a decent meal (popcorn doesn’t count!).
So I’ve been dreaming of those Sunday mornings in college when I didn’t have to do anything except read the paper. Someday I hope to replicate those mornings with the Sunday New York Times, but this time I’ll have a cup of coffee with me and I’ll be sitting in the breakfast nook or on the patio getting newsprint on my hands.
Babies, babies everywhere. Lots of pregnant friends and new parents. And the question that always comes: “Are you going to have a second one?”
I. Don’t. Know.
Last night was the first night in our new house. There is chaos everywhere. I just want to throw everything away instead of unpacking. We have spoons but no forks, big bowls and lots and lots of cooking utensils but pots and pans have yet to be found.
I have a friend that is the perfect mover: she makes an Excel spreadsheet, labels her boxes with numbers, and in Excel keeps track of everything in each box. So she would know which box held her forks and pots and pans. I can only wish to be that organized some day.
Future President slept in his big boy bed (a twin bed on the floor) for the first time last night. He did marvelously, except the light from the un-curtained window woke him up at 5:30 this morning.
I am so tired.
So, like I said. I don’t know. I’m not good at being tired.
Why Finnish Babies Sleep in Cardboard Boxes is a fascinating look at the social and economic experiment that equalizes every mother and baby in a country. Such a good idea.
22 Maps that Show the Deepest Linguistic Conflicts in America – this explains why one of my friends says law-yer and why, upon returning to the states after 12 years away, I was so befuddled by the soda/pop split.
Thursday nights were my favorite in college. All my friends together in one place to watch Friends. This article makes me wish for those times again.
I tried really, really hard to eat a dairy-free diet for a month.
But I failed miserably. I lasted about two weeks completely dairy free, and like magic my face cleared up. But the temptation of ice cream, cottage cheese, sour cream and yogurt was just too strong. The pull of cow’s milk was my biggest downfall. I hate soy milk and almond milk is a good substitute, but Starbucks only offers soy and cow’s milk. (I know, I know…just stop going to Starbucks.) If I could find more almond milk-based products, I think I would do better.
I’ve figured out that because I don’t feel physically ill after eating dairy, I don’t have as much incentive to stay away. Gluten makes me physically ill. I cheated a few weeks ago on some amazing-looking trout fritters the spouse ordered at a restaurant. They were amazing – deep fried and doughy, served with a delicious balsamic sauce. And I paid the price for tasting (devouring) them.
I ate some ice cream a few days ago and my acne immediately flared up. The only thing preventing a full-blown disaster is the African black soap I’m using. This product is miraculous. I’ve only been able to find it at Target and online, but if you have acne, I suggest you hunt down this product.
If you’ve switched to a dairy-free diet, I would love to hear your suggestions about surviving the cow milk withdrawal. I’ve already heard from a few friends that the key is finding tasty enough substitutes that you don’t miss cow’s milk.
Hey Starbucks – are you listening? For those of us who hate soy milk, could you please carry almond milk? Please and thank you.
Time is a very difficult concept to explain to a toddler. Future President has been eyeing a small electric train that the spouse played with as a child. It sits in a box in a closet that Future President can easily open. We haven’t let him play with it yet because the pieces are small and easily swallowable. He does understand a little about time, though, as he’s recently incorporated “right now,” and “not yet” into his vocabulary.
Today he again opened the closet and pointed to the box: “Play Daddy’s choo choo train.” It’s always the same plea. Instead of just saying later, or not now, I tried to frame the “not yet” in terms he could understand.
“Not yet,” I told him. “Remember Santa and snowmen? You can play with it at Christmas.”
“PopPop ho-ho lights!” he said. It’s all he really associates with Christmas, apparently. When my dad finally took down the Christmas lights.
“Yes. When there are ho-ho lights, you can play with the train,” I said.
“Christmas! Ho-ho lights!” he responded.
And now we wait.