Cruise Ship Wreck

Me: "I still can't get over the sight of that cruise ship turned over on its side in the Mediterranean."

Sister: "I KNOW!!!"

Me: "I used to think the worst thing that could happen on a cruise ship was a norovirus, but now I know they can actually shipwreck!"

As husband is rolling his eyes, and actually his whole head backwards, my sister agrees, "I was thinking the exact same thing this morning! I was thinking, 'Geez, before I wasn't sure if I wanted to take a cruise because of norovirus, but now, they can actually turn over!"

Husband: "Is this how insanity starts?"

Sister: "It's genetics."

Husband: "Oh come on. When was the last time that happened? Oh that's right, it was the Titanic!"
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I Married a Child Model

You'd never guess it, but my husband was a child model.

(This is a photo of me trying to make him take a photo with me with the background in my computer camera. I'm holding his hands and waving them. That's a roller coaster in the fake background.)

I'm not saying he's not a good-looking guy.
I'm saying, the man hates having his picture taken. And, I'm saying, he sometimes looks awful in photos because he's making a pained grimace that he thinks passes as a smile.

He was in catalog and print ads from ages, oh, 4-8 in the NYC area. Underoos. He modeled Underoos. And now, he's the grumpiest person you can imagine in front of the camera. I look at that smiling 6 year old and wonder who the heck that is, because the person who will jump through hoops- with a smile- is gone. I can usually make him jump, using my teacher tactics of direct orders and stare down, and talking loud, and not backing down (like when I wanted him to get me two cookies last night), but this is why I end up with grimaces in lots of photos. He'll do what I ask, since a family photo is a reasonable request, but he'll do it with a look on his face that only an introverted husband can make.

(That's him in the bottom right of this catalog ad. Look at that bowl cut! So late 70's!)

I think that's why I'm so surprised he was a child model- he is ultimately an introvert. I guess he only did the ads because his mom dragged him to auditions. In many ways, I often find us replaying that same scenario... a woman trying to make a very cute guy smile for photos in which he has no interest.

Me: Do I have your permission to post the photo of you as a child model?
Husband: (pause) I am not a subject for entertainment, information, or any other data.

Do you see what I mean about him being an introvert? Click here to read full entry.

Build-a-Bear Manhattan: Actually, Not Lame!

Before you have kids, you can't believe you'd ever want to do anything as lame as go to the "Build-a-Bear" or American Girl doll store. (I only know about that second thing because my friend Kevin, Dad of two, has blogged about it.)

When my sister was here last week with her 3 kids, 6, 4, and 2, she suggested an impromptu trip into the city (New York City, that is) to see our sister's apartment. To give the kids something kiddish to do, we'd first swing by Build-a-Bear. This sounded horrible to me. I pictured a crowded place full of screaming kids... but I admit, I felt the pull of the bear. My baby's first birthday is coming up, and I envisioned myself buying him a really painstakingly built bear, crafted with fine accessories which I imagined were part of a complex part of assembling a bear. I grew more enthusiastic about Build-a-Bear.

The nine of us- me, my baby, my parents, my sisters, my middle sister's 3 kids- drove in two cars to the commuter train station. We managed to get ourselves onto a train and an hour later were in Manhattan, hiking a few cold blocks to the BAB store in midtown.

Although I had fun at Build-a-Bear (the baby slept through most of it), I was let down by the "building" process. The assemblage, which I pictured more like Santa's toy shop with tools and crafting of the bear's attributes, only involves you pressing the pedal on the machine that puts the stuffing in the bear (so you can decide the bear's firmness or floppiness) and picking out its outfit. The store should really be named "Stuff and Dress a Bear." See photo above of me and the sleeping baby stuffing his bear.

Still, I had fun watching my niece and nephews get their bears- rather, the two olders chose dinosaurs- and I did get a pretty cute Jedi Knight bear. The store wasn't that crowded, surprisingly, for a Sunday. No kids were acting obnoxious, although their parents were sort of loud.

The only really bad thing about the store is the deafening cowbell they ring, right at the front door by the checkout area, to announce yet another kid's birthday. I did not appreciate an ear-shattering COWBELL right next to my baby's head. That's actually pretty idiotic of the Build-a-Bear people.

I admit, I'd go to the Build-a-Bear place again. I'm not even sure why. Maybe because although it's about buying stuff, the options are limited. That's good for kids. It's a better (albeit pricier) option than having to choose from an entire toy store. I think that's why the kids in the store were so well-behaved: it was a controlled purchasing experience. The other good thing was that I felt the toys were fairly priced- not cheap- but not exorbitant. 16 bucks for the bear, same for the clothes. No, not cheap, but I expected double the price.

And being able to do Manhattan with kids is pretty priceless! We walked a bunch of blocks to my sister's apartment and the kids did great. There was some complaining near the end, but truth be told, pounding the pavement was tiring, and it was very cold!

Here's my sis, her kids, and my Dad at 30 Rock.

I am really looking forward to my next trip into the city with the baby. It is so easy just to put him in the ERGO and wear him around. However, I wore the baby for about 4 hours straight on BuildaBear day, and my hips were really tired the next day. For a long day in the city, it's best to bring the stroller. That's what I did last month when the baby and I took the train in along to see my sister's new apartment. I put him in the stroller, cozied up in the BundleMe, and put the plastic over that because it was very cold. He fell asleep and I was able to walk briskly to my sister's. Walking that much with 20 pounds on my hips is just not doable any more. This is why I need to buy a mai tei, so I can stick the baby on my back, rather than trying to wear him on my front in the ERGO. I hate the ERGO for back carry. Click here to read full entry.

My Sister's Family Grows... and Blogs!

I am thrilled to announce the blog of my younger sister, Amy! Of course, I take most of the credit... just kidding!

Her blog is called "The H Family Grows," and she decided to do it because her family is not just growing with the three kids they already have, but will be growing, within the next year or two, with two children they are hoping to adopt from Ethiopia. Many families who adopt or are in the process of adopting start blogs, so I think that inspired Amy to keep her own account of their journey. I think she also wants to document her family life in general. 'Cause BOY are my niece and nephews ADORABLE! If I didn't have my own kid, I would be totally devastated that they are so far away in CA!

Speaking of, here's a pic of the Q in CA with his cousins in September.


I remember when Amy first mentioned they were thinking about adopting... I was all for it! I think, like during most of our phone conversations, I was driving. I am so in love with my niece and nephews, and I am so excited to have more. I'm excited that one of my sisters is blogging. Turns out she's a pretty good writer! Now we just need the other sister to start blogging, although she's a lawyer, and I think they have some strict code about that. Click here to read full entry.

My First Favorite Person

OK, probably my baby and my husband should be my favorite people, but I feel an extreme kinship with my almost 6 year old nephew Jack. This post and poem that I wrote a few years ago when he was almost 2, and still my only nephew, describe how he changed my life. (Photo: My first bday with nephew!)
In the past few years, another amazing nephew was born, and then an amazing niece. Obviously, I cannot as a good aunt call my first nephew my favorite. In fact, I probably should no longer speak in terms of favorite, as I could do 5 years ago when my nephew was the brightest spot in my life. Instead, I'll say that this quote from him, that my sister emailed to us yesterday, makes me think of how much Jack reminds me of me.

Here's the email:
Thought you might get a kick out of this quote from Jack. We were at the dinner table.
Jack: "I'm probably the smartest kid inside my class. (Pauses for a second.) When it was 1:58, the other kids thought it was 2 o'clock."
Dumb kids.
Love,
A

I love that smarty pants attitude- and you know, the kid is right. He probably is the smartest kid in his class, and those little dummies can't tell time as well as he can. The kid can read clocks better than most of my sixth graders. I think I'm pretty smart, and I'm a fast learner, so I can relate. In first grade, my teacher had to cancel the fifty state spelling lists, because Marty and I were the only kids who could handle them. I see a lot of myself in Jack. That, and the fact that he was my first nephew- the first important kid in my life that was in a way at least a little part of me- will always make him special!

Oh, plus, if you read this post where he tells me I can't steal his sippy cup, you can see that he and I are sort of telepathically connected. He read my mind. I was going to steal his sippy cup.

The pictures below are funny, because you can tell all I wanted to do was follow him around any pay attention to him. I'm barely IN any photos with him because I was usually taking photos.










(these first two photos, I had yet to meet my husband, so OBVIOUSLY Jack was my favorite person!)

















(this last photo is from 2 months before my 2nd nephew was born.) Click here to read full entry.

Sippy Cups For All

Last summer on a visit to Mississippi, I was playing with my 4 year old nephew. I was thirsty, so to be silly, I used a sippy cup. A sippy cup has a hole in the top, but a plastic stopper only allows you to get water out when you turn it upside down and drink. I was surprised how convenient it was. For someone who works with a laptop, a spill-proof cup is important. I used a sippy cup for the rest of my vist, keeping it on my nightstand and leaving it on the coffee table as we were playing, so I could get my 8 glasses of water.

One morning near the end of my trip, I stumbled out of bed with my sippy cup and staggered into the kitchen at 7am where my nephew J was contentedly drawing. He glanced up at me.

J, matter-of-factly: Kris, you can't take that sippy cup with you.
(Oddly, I HAD been thinking I was going to ask to take one with me.)
Me, trying to act innocent: How do you know I wanted to take this one?
J, still drawing: You can't, Kris, it's mine.  You have to buy your OWN sippy cup, in Connecticut.

Sigh.  He has always been one smart little boy. 

Don't knock the sippy cup until you try it. If you have access to one, check it out.  It's really great in the summer because you can fit ice into the wide top, so it keeps your water nice and cold.

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Welcome to Mississippi!

Mississippi, Day 1:

Me: “I can’t believe we’re driving with styrofoam food trays on our laps.”  We laugh.
Sis: “Welcome to Mississippi.”

Mostly, MS has not lived up to all my stereotypical images and dramatic expectations. When you hear "Mississippi," you picture shacks by cotton fields. While there is a cotton field at the end of my sister’s road, this northeast corner of MS looks like any other sorta rural place: there are two lane roads, neighborhoods, a downtown, a few trailer parks... kind of like where I grew up in VA.

However, Mississippi does have some quirks.

Yesterday, I had only been in the state for 3 hours, but already my nephew had found a pinecone with a black widow in it, and I had gotten bitten by a tiny, translucent, red creature. I have no idea what it was. (Mini-scorpion?) I know for a fact it wasn’t a fire ant, because my nephew got attacked by a swarm of those last summer, and my bite, while itchy, did not form into a pustule/welt like he had all over his legs and hands.

What fire ants can do was a revelation to me.

The one thing about Mississippi that meets the dramatic expectations- not the accent, not the poverty, not the obesity- is the fire ants. Read my previous post “Fire Ants: Giving Regular Ants a Bad Name” for further info.

Mississippi has other quirks that I’ll try to capture on camera this week. This is my 7th or 8th trip out here over the past 2 years (my niece and nephews are my obsessions, besides my blogs), and I’ve never captured the area on film as much as I want. You can see some of what I have gotten on my flickr gallery.

About the eating while driving thing: my sis was behind the wheel with a cheeseburger and tater tots, I had a grilled chicken and bacon wrap, and the boys had grilled cheese. We had to eat like that because it was past bedtime and the boys hadn’t eaten yet because we had to go straight to T-ball from picking me up at the tiny Tupelo, MS airport. My husband does not let me eat in his car very often, so even though I could have waited to eat my wrap, I was hungry, and getting to eat while driving felt like a luxury.

Day 2: Had the nephew’s birthday! Click here to read full entry.

My Obsessions

Now, these boys are beautiful! These are my movie star-esque nephews. This pic is about 9 months old, so they're are even more handsome now.

They, and now my 9 month old niece, and my total life obsessions. I was there when each one was born. Yup, I've been stalking them since they were born, and even before. It's the horror of my life that they live in Mississippi, but we are hoping they'll get back to the East Coast in a few years. HINT, HINT.
Click here to read full entry.

Sisters and a Fancy Grey Sweatshirt

Original post date: Nov. 14, 2007. Well, my middle sis turned 30 today. She's finally in my decade. My youngest sis is in her 2nd year of law school and is a mere baby at 26. It's great having sisters. I don't have anything deep to say about that. I just wanted to put up a pic of my sisters.

I like this picture because we look super dorky and little. This is in Ireland a year and a half ago. It's a little hard to see, but my middle sis is wearing my grey sweatshirt, because we didn't bring enough warm clothes. Who knew Ireland would be freezing in July- shivering-freezing with pelting wind and rain. We wore all of our layers for three days straight and still got chilled. Even when the rain cleared, it was still cool. It's a good thing I brought my ratty blue sweatshirt, so my sis could wear the grey one. It's never a mistake to bring along an extra sweatshirt.

Last week the grey sweatshirt got left on a bus or airplane in Brazil. Oh well. That sweatshirt had some good times and got in more international travel than most people in the world.

Note in this Ireland photo the grey sweatshirt, and me in my same blue long-sleeved shirt, because I only brought tank tops. Idiot. I hope the person who finds the grey sweatshirt likes it. It cost 100 $, which is absurd. I only bought it because my husband got me a gift certif and there wasn't anything else in the store that I liked. It was still an adequate sweatshirt, albeit a bit short for comfort. That's why I won't really miss it and don't feel distraught.

Fortunately, my ratty blue sweatshirt from American Apparel did make it home safely from Brazil. Trusty, cozy little thing. Size medium. Look into it. Its comfort is worth the 50 bucks. I'm not including a picture of it, because in all the pics, I have the hood up and am hunched over in an effort to keep warm. Click here to read full entry.

Harrison Ford, Nephews, Dreams

I just had the most insane dream. I was about to get in the car to go to work when Harrison Ford walked by. We chatted a bit, and I asked him if he was depressed, and he said, "All I can say is, bless any man who marries a younger woman." I was sitting on the ground, and he leaned down and kissed me three times on the lips, then walked away. I was a little taken aback, but I can roll with a lot of unexpected things. I considered calling after him, "Say hi to Calista!" but thought she might not know who I was, so I said, "I like those lips!" then got in my car.

Nephew 2: Jack, look. (Trying to put huge coin in his piggy bank.)
Nephew 1: I told you it was too big.
Nephew 2: See? It don't work.

Nephew 1, looking in pantry: No peanut butter crackers!?! Rrrrrrr! It can't be true.

I keep a journal, so if I have a dream I want to write in, I write my dream in it sideways. That way, the dream is in with the current entries, so when I go back and read, I can see what in my life inspired certain dreams. They often relate in interesting ways. I put them sideways so I can find them easily if I just want to go back and read my dreams. Click here to read full entry.