Respecting the Moment

I'm always talking about savoring the moment, striving for mindfulness. When Maya was first born, I read a great book called Everyday Blessings: the inner work of mindful parenting, and at the time, it seemed so logical: be fully present, fully attentive to the moment before you.

If it's a tantrum, apply you full attention not to the dirty looks of those around you or the event you're trying to reach on time, but to the needs and triggers of you child. If you're feeding them dinner, than slicing the veggie sticks and listening to a recap of tag in the gym is you whole world at that moment.

It sounded great almost four years ago, when I read this book and rocked a nursing baby. Yet, it conflicts with every instinct to multi-task.

I'm now reading Breath by Breath, a beginners guide to insight mediation. I'm trying to start a daily practice that will help me be mindful throughout the day. This book has brought my attention to the fact that multi-tasking has robbed me of the very moments I want to savor.

I'm completely missing the present because my mind is whirring through the to-do list, wondering what to check off next, or whittling away at some nagging but meaningless problem.

So, lately, I'm trying to be more present. These pictures are from last week, when Maya was off at preschool and instead of setting Elle up with toys while I fold laundry, we painted.

She painted. I painted. That's all.

No worrying, no to do list, no NPR keeping me up to date on the more important outside world.

No, we just painted, and it was spectacular.

Elliot couldn't believe I was actually letting her paint like her big sister. She couldn't get enough of the process: put paint on the brush, brush on the paper, finger in the paint, and then "mess, mess" she had to run to the kitchen to get her hands washed. Then back to the easel to start over.


Clearly, I wasn't mindful the whole time, as I thought enough about the future to photograph it. But essentially, my thoughts were present. The moment didn't need to be savored, because it was fully lived.

I need to do that more often.

My Pretties

I realize that four days before a big trip probably isn't the best time for a major transition, but while cleaning up the playroom on Saturday, I followed my instincts, moving Maya's bed back up to Elliot's room.


When Elliot was first born, they shared a room. At that point, it was no problem. We put Maya to bed as usual, and snuggled Elle into her crib after both girls fell asleep. Newborn schedules are so wonky anyway, it didn't seem strange to shuffle the baby around.

Soon Elle was old enough for a bedtime routine, but Maya simply couldn't fall asleep with Elliot fussing. We tried for a few weeks, but it never really worked. At that point, Maya moved downstairs into the playroom, where she has stayed, more or less, for months.

When I was organizing Mount. Toy, Maya caught me eying her little bed. I was coveting the space for more room to play, and thinking of Elliot's nearly empty room upstairs. I barely mentioned that we could move her bed upstairs, and Maya began tugging at her pillow.

"Let's move it now, Mama. That way I won't have to be alone all the time." She said this with such excitement, I had to follow through.


The first two nights have gone extremely smoothly. The best part is that bedtime doesn't require both Joe and I at once. We take turns running them through the bedtime routine, reading books, and tucking them in.

Saturday night, we actually made a date of listening to the girls giggle over the monitor I used to enjoy Billy Holiday or Sinatra with a glass of wine on a quiet evening in... now it's our girls' laughter.

Eventually, after a couple of trips into their room, they were both fast asleep.


Suddenly, we'll both have an extra hour of evening time, while the other of us puts the kids to bed. Plus, grandma might have an easier time putting them to sleep while we're in Vegas now that they have each other.

One and a half and three and a half are really, really good ages.

Photo Friday

Visiting Clifford the Big Red Dog at the Children's Museum... The museum was packed, but we still had a good time. Ronald is conveniently located right outside the museum, so the photo opp with our friends (and the happy meal), though outrageously commercial, was unavoidable.

Tea for 2

In the interest of teaching them the good and proper way to dine, I hosted a little tea party for the girls.

Maya helped make tea sandwiches, using star shaped cookie cutters to turn cheese sandwiches into fancy canapes. The kids' table came out of the play room and into the dining room, along with the official playtime tea set.

They were charmingly and uniquely dressed, though not in designer labels. Elliot donned a fashionable firefighter jacket along with her Auntie's blue tutu, while Maya wore Auntie's Christmas dress, a vintage from around '88.


Unfortunately, Maya kept up a cell phone conversation with her imaginary friend Josh even as she poured tea. This means that I may have to limit my daytime phone calls. Maya seems to think it is only logical that one would prop a phone between her ear and shoulder while serving a snack, and then proceed to pace around the room. Oh dear... what kind of example am I?

At least they took turns pouring tea. Elliot's skills need some work, I think. Luckily the firefighter jacket doubled as a raincoat. And the little sweetheart even said "sorry" after pouring the whole pot of water out onto the table.

Good times were had by all; no discipline necessary, just a lot of towels.

Full Factory Recovry

That's what my poor computer needs.... so my unbacked up stuff is lost... totally and completely.

I'll take a bit to outline the lost portions... but continue writing new stuff for now. I can't bring myself to rewrite the opening that I so loved until I feel like I can bring fresh inspiration to it.

So, back to the knocking door.

Still Knocking

Laney's knocking on Ellie's front door.

And I'm knocking on my laptop with a two by four.

Great Googily Moogily.... it's down again, and I may have lost 6,000 words of rewrite... polished, lovely prose that I'm not sure I can recreate. I forgot to e-mail it to myself....

Off to find a techie....

Is "No Kids" the New "No Smoking"

Now that smokers have been safely sequestered to their own balconies, backyards, and automobiles, what is the next social ill our society will battle?

Surprisingly, it's not the jerks addicted to their Blackberries and their Bluetooth Earsets, ignoring present company while talking loudly into the ether.

No, it's the kids that have to go.

According to a recent rant on CNN entitled, Excerpt: Parents, Your Children Aren't that Special, kids these days are so undisciplined and unruly, they shouldn't be allowed out of the house. Unless, of course, curmudgeonly author Jack Cafferty's own semi-abusive father puts the fear of a stiff belt into your kid. Then certainly, they will be silent, terrified, and allowed to lurk near decent people.... You know, the people ignoring their dinner dates while twittering away on their iPhones.

It is not his call for discipline that I object to, though I suspect we differ in our methods. It is his, and increasingly everyone's, intolerance for children in any public setting.

I'm not taking my girls to 5 star restaurants, night clubs, or contemplative museums. No, its my favorite neighborhood Greek place that is now "take out only" for us. Even when Maya was dining quietly, everyone from the wait staff to the grandmotherly ladies lunching at the next table let loose an audible sigh and an eye roll when we sat down.

Even in the St. Paul skyway, as we traveled to the renowned Minnesota Children's Museum, we got disgusted looks and the occasional comment from nearly everyone that passed by our admittedly cumbersome double stroller. Should I disguise them in a catering trolly next time, to keep those around me calm? No, no, it's not a child (eeew), it's just D'Amico catering....

It wasn't my children or their discipline that was a problem in the skyway. I once pulled Maya out of a Target because of her excessive whining; and I've never had to do that again. The mere suggestion is enough to prevent a meltdown.

No, in the skyway, Elliot was totally quiet, and Maya was busy asking charming questions about the businesses we passed and where our friend's baby David was playing.

Sadly, it wasn't their behavior but their mere existence that angered the people around us. Children in restaurants, with high chairs that narrow the walkways. Children on airplanes, fidgeting and bored. Lately, even children in parks, walking too slowly for joggers and bikers, who incidentally, are talking on their cell phones.

Regardless of the behavior of my children in these situations, in fact, even when my girls are being pretty enjoyable companions, the adults are annoyed and often outwardly rude.

It is their existence that everyone is objecting to. Many don't even bother to deny it.

Maybe these child haters don't understand that well-behaved adults don't spring fully formed from the delivery room simply because their parents sign a "3 Strikes and I'll spank you" Discipline Doctrine. Or maybe they aren't aware that keeping kids in a kennel until they're past "that annoying age" (which for some can stretch past 25), is illegal.

Kids learn positive social behavior through good parenting, of course. Discipline is part of that;. But they also learn through kindness, mimicry, and practice. If we shut them away until they are 18, they might still emerge in their first restaurant throwing mashed potatoes on the nearest waitress (to be clear, my kids have never done this).

In a world where people feel entitled to grimace and be obnoxious at the mere appearance of children in a public place in the middle of the day, I am afraid to bring my children out in public.

If I do, will they learn to mimic the eye rolls, snorts of disgust, and general rudeness that all of these so-called sophisticated adults shower on them? Between texts and twitters of course.

Next time I take them out, maybe I'll drape them in shirts and flare that reads, "Future Taxpayer," so their financial value is readily apparent. Or maybe something that says, "Be nice to me, I may be your heart surgeon some day."

Or for the sake of my girls, maybe I will keep them at home and in the backyard where they'll get not only discipline, but kindness, and a little leeway as they learn the rules of common decency.

Stuck

The rain has us stranded. Not literally, like the poor sandbaggers in the Red River Valley, so I hate to complain.

But cooped we are, and just when the backyard and sunshine had cured our cabin fever.

We tried to venture out for a bit. Pulling on new rain boots and jackets, grabbing umbrellas, we headed out to check the chickens and get the mail. We lasted all of 5 minutes, until the fierce wind upturned the Hello Kitty umbrella, sent the other rolling across the yard, and made both girls yell for hot chocolate.


Which brings me back to craft projects in the dining room, and the endless refrain of "No, we're not going to watch another show." I can't mult-task, either, because every time I've turned my back today, poor Elle has knocked her head on something.

Knocking at the Door

Poor Laney is stuck knocking on my front door, two young kids and some emergency provisions in tow.

Actually she's at my main POV character's front door, of course, and she's growing angrier by the minute.

I haven't had any time to write in the past several days, due to a combination of lovely weather , my own fatigue, and a compulsive need to spring clean before my mother comes to watch my kids for a few days. (Yes, I'm taking my husband and leaving town and my girls for 4 days/3 nights.... I can't wait!)

Yet I've spent this busy time thinking through the next few scenes, and they feel ready to jump onto the computer. In fact, it feels a lot like a few years ago when I read Not Without My Daughter during our holiday visits with family. I squirmed through obligatory conversations and long, drawn out meals, feeling that every moment I put off reading was an extra moment of torture for Betty and her daughter. They languished, hostages to their own husband and father, because I was eating a cheese ball and playing Taboo with my in-laws.

This sense of suspended reality is much more intense when the story on hold is my own. Laney has changed a lot, over the past days. I've trapped her in front of Ellie's front door, and she's become more bitter, more mistrusting, and more self-righteous than she was if I had written her piece last Wednesday, when I intended.

So, today is the day. Laney's knock will be answered, and Ellie will be gracious, if greatly put out, that she must host this unexpected intrusion of her past during a crisis that seems to be boundless.

What fun!

Photo Friday

Maya finger painting at 18 months.


Elliot finger painting at around 17 months (don't worry, she wasn't so somber the whole time!)
Do you think I've relaxed my standards a bit?

The Dreams of Sweeties

Long ago, when I had the luxury of being a glutton for sleep, I kept a dream journal.

When I first started the journal, I could only recall a few vague details. Overtime, I began to remember multiple dreams each night, in all their tumbling, nonsensical glory. Eventually, I was able to consciously change the course of dreams if I didn't like where they were going, and trust me, that was a nice skill to have.

Ina and the gang are loving the nice weather and extra attention.

After years of living on the sleep equivalent of the grapefruit diet, I barely have time to dream, and I've lost both the habit of journaling and the knack for remembering them. But I still love to share what I do remember as soon as I wake up.

Now, so does Maya.

Lately, she has been having strange dreams featuring cats, but we've heard others about adventures with zoo animals, trips to grandma's house, Joe and I shrinking, and chocolate during some of her early morning dream reports. It is an enjoyable window into her inner-workings.

Elliot, thankfully, is eating less sand than she did last fall.

Elliot got in on the dream act this morning too. She tried to wake up for the day at an entirely unacceptable 5:00 AM. With an expertise born of practice, I shushed her back to sleep (actually, I fell asleep holding her in the chair, and eventually she got bored and fell back to sleep too).

Her twitching woke me up. She looked a bit like a sleeping puppy, trying to run after something. She was clearly asleep, slack jawed and everything, but every few seconds her little mouth would grin and she'd say "Maya, Maya" and then giggle. Her happy, sisterly dream continued even as I tucked her back into her crib.

This is a rambling post, I know, but I've always found dreams so interesting, and to have a little peek into the dreams of my girls was a nice treat this morning!

It's impossible to get Maya out of the sandbox. She spent two hours this morning baking cookies and birthday cakes in the playhouse "oven".

600 + words and a Working Computer

Yep, Ruby, my not-so-trusty Gateway was a frozen mess yesterday.

It was unfortunate, considering I had already taken about three days away from the story (except for random notes). I was brimming with the next scene, and the computer wouldn't cooperate.

Luckily, a little research and patience and some fantastic techy forums helped me overcome my own ignorance and fix the little beast.

I'm really enjoying my decision to stick with one viewpoint so far, but more on that as it progresses.

Off to bed now... The weather sprites brought us a lovely 65 degree day yesterday and 50 something today, and the girls and I got our fill of splashing in puddles, digging in the muddy, slushy sandbox, and running around after the chickens in our backyard. We'll be a quiet house tonight...

Wide Open Spaces

In spite of the glacier that occupies half of our yard and the bitter cold swamp covering the rest of it, the girls spent this morning running like wild things.

They fed the chickens together for the first time (last fall, Elliot's balance was a little too precarious to risk it). Both the fowls and the fillies got much needed exercise, as the girls chased those poor birds up and down the run with handfuls of corn.

Elliot kept up with her sister step for step, swinging, climbing the ladder to the slide, horsing around in the sandbox... She cried when it was time to come in for lunch, yet she was so worn out by the excitement that she cheered when I tucked her in for her nap.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the camera with me when Elliot tipped off of her scooter toy, getting a face full of mud. Literally a face full. And she didn't even cry!

With no pictures from today to add, I'll simply relay the weekend's car trip. Miraculously, we survived eleven hours round trip with two girls who have both at one time or another cried for uninterrupted hours in the car (two is the record, thanks Elle). And not a tear was shed.

Photo Friday

My glamor girl.... Who taught her to pose like that?

Case of the Chopped Off Hair - Solved!

Last night Maya greeted her friend Anja with a curious suggestion.

Elliot got her bangs trimmed.... She's too young for the salon... or I'm to cheep. But Hey, mama didn't do too bad this time!

"Anja, I like your hair. Let me get the scissors, I can cut it."

Thankfully, the scissors are hidden above shoulder height, as suggested by the childproofing experts. This eased my mind, as well as poor Anja's parents. Anja has got a gorgeous head of hair, and it would be a shame to lop off a braid!

The incident got us thinking.... Guess what? Last week at preschool, one of the learning stations was a beauty salon (mimicry... self-grooming... I'm sure there was a purpose in there beyond "Beauty School Dropout").

I asked Miss Leesa if Maya spent much time there. She took one look at Maya's fresh hair cut and started chuckling. "She cut her hair?" It was part question, part observation.

As it turns out, Maya is not the first student they have had to dabble in self-styling after preschool training as a beautician.

Shouldn't that come with a warning? At least add it to the customary announcements.... "Today's letter was G... we learned about grooming, like brushing our teeth and hair.... watch the scissors, because some of our kids head home and cut their own hair."

If I'd heard that, I may not have initiated a craft project that involved scissors this week!

Multiple Viewpoints, Which First?

I still have no idea what the best option should be. To write each of the three point of views through to the end or to write the story chronologically, switching viewpoints every chapter or so, as I intend it to be read.

This is the sort of thing that could easily derail my momentum, as the researcher in me is just itching to scuttle out through the internets in search of the best expert advice.

In fact, for a few minutes, my inner researcher took over, clawing her way through the first stack of google responses and wondering what search terms would work better. Ha! Now I, reasonably driven and slightly inspired, have regained control, and terminated the research.

For now, I'll follow my instinct, and the characters that I've been working on.

In the first draft, these characters, Leo, a man committed to helping his neighbors through the pandemic, Ellie the aging farm resort manager, and her orphaned granddaughter Via, were the least developed, coming in as they did toward the end of Nano when fingers were flying.

Sticking with them should strengthen their voices within their newly elaborated storyline.

I'll take notes for the gaps in the story to help with consistency when I pick up the other viewpoints. We'll see how long I stick with this approach, but at least now I've made a decision and can get on with the writing.

Word goal will resume tomorrow, and then take a three day dive while I (happily, but unproductively) visit the in-laws. Notebook will be in hand as I try to work out the key scene snags for the coming week.

Girls on the Town

I don't want to give the impression that I rewarded Maya's self-trim. The scissors in question will remain in time out until next week, and I've given her an in-depth review of what is and is not okay to cut.

That said, we made quiet the event out of her new hair cut. The girls and I dressed up for a morning out, and headed to Aveda... where apparently they had failed to tell us the stylist was out sick. A small snag, that nearly caused a big tantrum.

Thankfully, Ficocello's was open, and vacant. Perhaps the recession/depression/general-economic-terror has dissuaded people from getting overpriced hair cuts.

Not us! In we went with half a head of blond fluff that needed some serious attention.


We didn't have to wait long, thankfully. All of the display bottles of high end nail polish and hair goo were nearly as tempting as the glossy magazines on the table.


With all the bravado of the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz, Maya was washed, cut, primped, and set free into the world, a horse of a different color altogether.





Unfortunately, by the time we got to lunch her hat (necessary in this morning's 2 degree weather) trampled the curly cuteness that makes the hairdo really work, but I'll get better pictures later.


As you can see, we were ladies of leisure today, spa-ing and dining... later we'll do some entertaining. We're living the high life!

800+ and a cross roads

So, plugging right along, having great fun. But I reached the end of a section. My vision with this rewrite is to weave three separate but overlapping viewpoints through the story. Now that I say that, I think it's absurdly complex for a first novel.... but I have nothing to lose, and that's what I want to do, so.... that's what I'm doing.

But, in the Nano draft I plunged ahead and wrote the whole thing sequencially. This time around, I'm tempted to follow this viewpoint to the end, taking notes on what interdependent details need to be brought in to the other story lines, and then take up the next voice.

On the one hand, it might let each character come through a little better.

On the other, it might get horribly confusing.

Instead of plunging ahead for another 200 words, I'm spending the rest of the night pondering this quandary.

Another Classic Milestone

After our frayed and frazzled troubles last fall, I planned to take Maya in for a nice hair cut soon. I was simply waiting for the frazzled section to grow out enough to allow her a real hair cut.

In case you've forgotten that little post, here's a quick recap: Maya has always comforted herself by playing with my hair. The big transition to preschool sent her into a tailspin of hair twisting, and since she sleeps alone, she started twisting her own hair. Off. Thankfully, we convinced her to leave her own hair alone, and she now snuggles a fuzzy puppy dog, Zoe, when she needs that sort of comfort.

Her hair has nearly grown long enough for an evened-out hair cut (In the interim, we've engaged a vast arsenal of ribbons, headbands, clips, and pony tails to mask the partial mullet she's been sporting).

Maya adding trees and cutouts from gardening magazines to our spring mural.

I was planning to wait a bit longer, but she threw a new challenge at me (and her future hair dresser). Yesterday afternoon, while we did a little cabin fever craft project, creating spring in our dining room, she snuck under the table and cut a chunk off of her hair!

My picture of the finished mural, after several different sessions of adding pictures. It was slow going, as Maya insisted on cutting out all of the pictures on her own.

This is how I found Maya, after taking a picture of the mural. She is looking at the hair in her hand. (Yes, she changed into her jammies during the project. We were going to watch a movie next, and she wanted to be comfy.)

When asked why, she explained that it was in her eyes. Of course, the long hair at the back of her head was probably not in her eyes. At least not before she took the pony tail holder out. Sheesh.

Crime scene evidence.

According to other mom friends, it's a right of passage. They each referred me to stylists at Aveda, Roco, Juut, and Ficocello who can do wonders with little girls' self-styled disasters. We'll be off to one tomorrow morning. Wish us luck!

Another 1,000

Phew, we're rolling right along now. Somehow, these characters are really much more fun than they were in November.

And a new romance is brewing... that's fun.

1,000 a day seems ambitious to maintain all the time, but if I can do it at least four days a week, and touch base with the story in one way or another on the off days, I think we'll be in business.

Goals are great....

Why 18 months is best....

Every mother I know lapses into the refrain "they're fun at every age." We mean, of course, our children, and though my age range is limited to just under 4 years, I have a strong suspicion that the optimists among us actually do enjoy each stage with our kids, even the tricky ones.


But at almost 18 months, Elliot really is cherubic to the core. Here are some of the perks of the age between "Wow, I can reach everything" and "Give me everything" (otherwise known as the terrible twos):

1. They SLEEP. No matter what nighttime chaos has gone before, by 18 months, they've usually solidified their self-soothing techniques. When they do wake up, you know they actually need your help.

2. They are CHARMING. I use to sing the praises of 4 month olds, because they suddenly transition from infant to interactive baby. Well, at 18 months, they've fully transitioned from playful baby to performer. Both Maya and Elliot did this, and it's hilarious. Elle will do anything for a laugh, from wiggley wobbly dance steps to singing made up songs to throwing her fork like a javelin at the mashed potato bowl while chanting, "More, more, more."


3. They are LEARNING MACHINES. Seriously, she's picking up a word or two a day, and tossing out sentences like "Where's Daddy," and "Go get Maya." Show her any sorting or stacking game, and she'll master it in a few minutes. She's learning songs and their actions as quickly as her clumsy motor skills will allow.
4. They are still LITTLE. I mean they still snuggle like babies.... so nice. And they can't negoatiate yet, like older siblings.

5. They are EASY. Seriously, they are so maliable. All of a sudden Elle can eat anything, play everywhere (with help), and entertain herslef with almost nothing.


I'll enjoy these perks, and this silly little girl, for a few months, before the next phase kicks in. If I remember right, it had something to do with "no," and being almost 2.... but I may have blocked some of it out. We'll see.

And don't worry, in fairness, I'll sing the praises of 31/2 before too long. Truly, they're fun at every age!

1011+

Woot woot!

Today's goal was a little trickier to reach, as I got bogged down in editing yesterday's stuff.... but I REALLY like how it's going so far. Very smooth. Much improved. The characters are really making their own demands now, so it seems like it was worth the wait.

A friend sent me this quote by Elizabeth Gilbert about writing. I think it's wonderful!

As for discipline – it’s important, but sort of over-rated. The more important virtue for a writer, I believe, is self-forgiveness. Because your writing will always disappoint you. Your laziness will always disappoint you. You will make vows: “I’m going to write for an hour every day,” and then you won’t do it. You will think: “I suck, I’m such a failure. I’m washed-up.” Continuing to write after that heartache of disappointment doesn’t take only discipline, but also self-forgiveness (which comes from a place of kind and encouraging and motherly love). The other thing to realize is that all writers think they suck. When I was writing “Eat, Pray, Love”, I had just as a strong a mantra of THIS SUCKS ringing through my head as anyone does when they write anything. But I had a clarion moment of truth during the process of that book. One day, when I was agonizing over how utterly bad my writing felt, I realized: “That’s actually not my problem.” The point I realized was this – I never promised the universe that I would write brilliantly; I only promised the universe that I would write. So I put my head down and sweated through it, as per my vows.

2,080 Words - Excellent Start

My resolve strong and my fingers nimble, I plunked out more than 2,000 words today.

I don't love each and everyone of them, but they hold there own. More importantly, the story behind them is flowing nicely. Not too much exposition, but enough. Not too much foreshadowing, but enough. I think. At least for a second draft.

And a much, much better start than that poor draft 1.

It flowing easily, so I just might keep going.

Strangely Enough...

Between blogging, dinking around on Goodreads, and numbing my mental faculties on facebook, I've developed a terrible computer habit.

It began sucking up all of my writing time. That was until about three weeks ago, when I pared way back on blogging, and limited myself to checking facebook and goodreads early in the morning and late at night, along with my e-mail.

Now that I've guarded my writing time a little better, draft two is stewing. I'm still not moving ahead with a word count though. Grrr. Instead, I'm sort of hung up on character sketches and a few issues of plot and pacing. New, helpful solutions to the latest troubles are popping out all the time, so I'm not getting frustrated. I am, however, beginning to face the fact that draft two will not pour forth organically in a rush of intuition.

I will have to make it happen through a force of will. Go after it with a club so to speak.

I now have built a little fortress of good intentions around my "writing time," and the research, characer, and plot updates necessary to bridge me from draft 1 to draft 2 are all pretty much done.

Nothing more to do than set a daily word count, Nano style, and plunge ahead with the newer better version of my story.

That said, I'm now on a mission to reach 1,000 words a day (doesn't sound like much, but unlike Nano, I want these to be fairly carefully chosen words).

Photo Friday

Though she let her protests ring out loud and clear when I left the room on Tuesday, Elliot's time alone at ECFE went really well again this week. By the time I came back with the other moms, she was having too much fun to notice!

Here she is performing a few of her favorite songs with her new friends. (The pictures aren't great, but I was literally surrounded by two-foot-tall wiggle worms.... )

Recovered!

Though the errant cough may still ring out from time to time, we now consider ourselves a healthy family.

Thanks to massive quantities of antique antibiotics, Maya is bubbling over with energy today... the first time in more than three weeks. Elliot is following her lead from one game to the next.

Maya spent much of this morning on a quiet but unauthorized foray into photography; an escapade I only just discovered. When I downloaded pictures from my camera, there were more than 55 images of the cat in various stages of first relaxation, then flight.

Another 30 pictures featured Elliot and a diminishing rice cracker.


Maya knows she isn't allowed to use the camera (a result of last year's overeager photography which busted our old camera), so it looks like she stayed under the dining room table for the duration of the photo shoot.

All of this must have happened while I dashed upstairs to sort some laundry, then downstairs to wash it.... No wonder household tasks languish on the "to do" list!