Rock-n-Romp Season 2, Episode 1

I don't want to get all overly self-congratulatory here, but this Rock n Romp thing we've been putting has turned into something pretty cool. The first show of Season 2 was quite a success. The Crowders were gracious hosts this time. Quick rundown of what happened:

Vending Machine rocked:


Chloe romped:


Jiro got upset when the beer ran out:


Masses of people got cozy:

One Candle on the Cake

Here we were, a little more than a year ago. We all knew our lives were about to be very different- Cathy with her first baby, Beth with a second girl arriving barely more than a year after the first, me with a little sister for Connor and Aunt Tiffany with three more babies to buy stuff for.

Unexpectedly, Francie came first, taking the genes her big sister left behind.

Then Chloe came a couple of weeks later- about when we expected her, but still on her own terms.

Charlie seemed to know that the party had gotten started without him, and decided May 1 would do- no sense waiting until June.

Tiffany made sure all the babies were well-dressed and all the mamas were fed and rested, and that the older kids still felt important.

I wish I had the talent to express how important it is to me to have these women in my life. Instead I'll just say thanks, Tiff, for stopping by to see the kids last weekend. Beth, sometimes I still cry because you aren't closer. Cathy, my life has been better since you started working across the street from me. I love you girls! And I'm so proud of us. Happy birthday, Mamas!

All About Us

If you took enough Zoloft to make it through my interview with RJA, you might be aware that we birthed the now-famous blog series, "Get To Know Your Blogger." (All we did was IM, yet it still resulted in a birth.) This week Chip had lunch with Stacey and her notebook, and the resulting interview was published over at Dining with Monkeys. Andria stuck with the medium I love most, firing questions at me through cyberspace. You can find a transcript at Secret Agent Mom.

Right now you're looking at this picture, trying to figure out which kid is collecting rocks and which kid is trying to eat them. I'd tell you, but I'm too full of my own importance to waste my time on such trivial matters.

Tech troubles

For those of you who access this humble blog through chockley.com, it works again. I had some hosting problems. Should be all fixed now-- sorry, it won't happen again.

Chloe has just about shunned the crawling thing for good. I wouldn't say she's the most graceful creature when she walks, but she is improving quickly.



Sorry, Connor-- you'll get your own post soon.

Oh, and in case you missed it, the Chockley clan ate out again, and just had to review it over at Dining With Monkeys.

The World's Great Optimist, An Interview With RJA

Earlier this week, I was chatting with RJA of Urf! fame through the miracle of instant messenger. Although I already knew at least a hundred and four things about him from his blog, I found myself getting nosy about what he does for a living and why. Along the way we had this exchange:

RJA: Will this interview be featured on One Of Each? That would be pretty cool.
SLC: Good idea!
RJA: It is a good idea. "Get to know your blogger"

Typical, that one narcissistic blogger would want to hijack the blog of another. But in truth, we’re not so taken with ourselves that we let the readers in on everything. We end up blogging about our kids, about where we go and what we eat, embellishing stories and posting pictures we think might entertain others. But rarely do we mention if we find ourselves following our dreams, or if running a smoke shop brings in enough money to support a family of six. And even more rarely do I stop talking enough to actually learn those things about someone else. So if you dare- get to know your blogger.

SLC: So how busy is your store? I don't know anything about tobacco sales.
RJA: Varies.
A lot of lottery sales, not enough cigar sales, but the money is in cigars, pipes and pipe tobacco.
SLC: So is there a lot of competition in Memphis?
RJA: Not really. There's me and Tobacco Corner.
Vinny in Midtown is a bit of competition and then there are a couple way the hell out in Cordova. In Memphis, our biggest competition isn't with each other but with online sales.
SLC: So is this something you always had an interest in, or was the store a good business opportunity for you independent of that, or both?
RJA: I wanted to work for myself. I've always wanted that.
So, in August of '98, when C was only eight-months-old, I started feeling pressure to do just that. I saw a notice that this place was for sale and thought it would be an interesting place to work. After much negotiating (though not quite enough), I closed on it at the end of December of that year, then took over Jan. 4, 1999.
SLC: So that place just caught your eye- you weren't on the lookout for a tobacco store in particular?
RJA: Nope. Not on the look out for a tobacco shop.
SLC: What were you doing before that?
RJA: I was working at The Commercial Appeal before this. Mostly, Stephanie, in the Sports Department!
SLC: Stop it!
RJA: Yep.
SLC: What did you do at the CA? Write?
RJA: A little. Mostly grunt work, but they did let me write a little.
SLC: So you chose being your own boss over writing for a living. . . because you can do both as your own boss?
RJA: It's more complicated.
SLC: Nothing's too complicated for IM.
RJA: I didn't go to college and all the CA wants to see now is a diploma when they’re hiring writers. But, as an editorial assistant, which is what I was, they would let me do freelance writing - book reviews, concert reviews, I covered a high school soccer match. And that was how I was going to prove myself. But then they cut out the freelancing by EAs, so I said screw it.
SLC: Gotcha.
RJA: My plan was to do more writing while here, but it's not that simple. Too much going on.
SLC: What, running a business and raising four kids doesn't leave you much extra time?
RJA: At the time I only had one. I pictured me doing a lot of writing between customers but there's always something else I need to be doing. Then more and more kids start showing up, so there's not as much time to write at home, either.
SLC: So the interview can continue tomorrow?
RJA: Okay. That's cool.
There's more to say. More than can be squeezed into IM.
SLC: You are severely underestimating this medium.

To be continued. . .

Part Two: RJA and the Smoke Shop of Doom

The next day, after enjoying lunch with RJA and Chip without a tape recorder for interview purposes or a camera for the “RJA with Orange Crush” photo op, the chat resumed.

SLC: So are you having a slow day?
RJA: Today is stupid slow.
SLC: Sorry I wasn't in the mood for a cigar.
RJA: I was counting on that sale, too.
SLC: So how long are you going to run that store before moving on to the next thing?
RJA: I have no idea.
SLC: You haven't started thinking about it? It's going okay for now?
RJA: Oh, I think about it. Kristy thinks about it. I'll either sell it, shut it down or it will be taken from me. Then what? I'm unemployable. No diploma.
SLC: So you don't think about selling it and buying into something else? Your assessment seems kind of negative.
RJA: I can be very negative when it comes to this place and what it takes to run a business in Memphis.
SLC: Well, good that you spend a lot of time there then.
RJA: Our debt is so monumental that if I sold, it would probably only cover (hopefully) that debt.
SLC: I'm sure in some ways it would be a relief to do that, but not at the expense of your daily happiness- assuming that being a business owner makes you happy.
RJA: I hear my brother-in-law, who works for a bank, and my office-working customers talk about meetings and conferences and power point presentations, etc, and I don't know how they do it. . . I honestly can't think of anything that would interest me. Except writing. Or being a professional cyclist. Or an adventurer, like Indiana Jones. Or being a character actor in major motion pictures.
SLC: So if you were writing for a living, what would it be? Fiction, short stories?
RJA: If I could do anything at all? Novelist. But I'd also write short stories, screen plays, plays, some journalism. Blogs.
SLC: Blogs plural? Like Stacey?
RJA: Well, if I'm writing for a living. Sure.
SLC: So do you have half a novel lying around somewhere, or what?
RJA: I've been working on a few short stories that could probably be combined into a novel at some point, provided I had the time and focus to figure it out. I haven't actually written in years because of time, mainly because Kristy wants to write, too, and it didn't seem fair for me to do so if she was tending to babies. However, a few months ago she said something that changed all that. I told her how I felt and she said, "If I could think of something to write then I'd write no matter what." So I've been writing a lot more since then.
SLC: Has the blog helped get you back into writing regularly?
RJA: Very much so. It's really good practice.
SLC: Looking back, do you think you'd actually have more time for writing if you weren't your own boss?
RJA: Yes. I can't get away from this place, even at home.
SLC: Do you ever think about getting your degree? In your abundant spare time, of course.
RJA: I've thought of going back to school. It would be to study creative writing and literature.
SLC: If the diploma thing is what's keeping you from thinking you can move on, there are lots of online programs you could do in order to get that piece of paper.
RJA: To do what? I don't even care about going to school for a diploma. I'd like to go to learn.
SLC: Of course. But you said you felt that if you sold your business you'd be "unemployable" without a diploma.
RJA: Right. But I also have no idea what I'd want to do. None.
SLC: You don't think you'd enjoy doing something somewhat mindless so that your mind would be free for your real passions?
RJA: I don't know. That does make sense, but I just feel that being a salesman or something - selling some product I don't really care about - would just depress me more than anything. I don't really know what jobs are out there, I guess. What do people do?
SLC: When I left teaching, I really had no idea what jobs there were out there, or what I was qualified for (jinx!) so I was surprised by what I found. . . But you're right about the diploma- if you have one, people assume you can do whatever they need done. There were times I regretted the liberal arts education- I felt lost not having learned any particular skill. I didn’t realize people are willing teach you anything if you’ve got a documented education.
RJA: What I wonder, though, is what the equivalent to a diploma is? Is running your own business for eight years as good to someone hiring as a four-year degree?
SLC: For a lot of things, I would guess it is. But some places are going to be run by strict HR departments that are stupidly rigid- like how the CA was.
RJA: Right.
SLC: If I win the lottery tonight, I'll be your patron. Can you tell that pretending I've won the lottery is my favorite hobby?
RJA: We do a lot of that pretending, too. I often wonder if there's a job that would pay me to listen to jazz all day and read. Then I realize that's what I'm doing.
SLC: Good to hear you say you enjoy it.
RJA: I like this job okay, except for the financial part.
SLC: Knowing your sunny disposition, that actually reads as the highest of praise. Does that mean despite it all, things are pretty good?
RJA: I do like this job. I actually love this job and love being my own boss. However, I tend to obsess about the problems and debt and cash flow issues. But I'm very proud of what I've created here. I've met a lot of good people and a lot of people have come to know each other while sitting around smoking cigars and drinking coffee. My store has become an oasis in downtown Memphis and that thrills me.

Housekeeping

Little things I've forgotten to mention lately:

Connor has ringworm all over his face. He looks horrible, and I can only kiss him on his left cheek these days. It sucks, and although I smile to the face of the person I think he got it from, I secretly hate her.

Chloe can walk! We saw her take steps for the first time on March 27. She is still being kind of lazy about it- she'll walk if you encourage her, but if she's in any kind of hurry she drops to her knees and crawls with the quickness.



Where's the ringworm in this picture? Photoshopped!

On the list of things that have gone wrong for us lately, you can now add "shattered glass door on the entertainment center." Apparently Connor opened the door, and for no discernable reason it just shattered everywhere. Fortunately no one was hurt, but everybody cried anyway.

Totally out of the blue, Connor wrote his name for us. His first sign of impending literacy! Apparently he had been waiting to unleash this talent until he got the "r" just right.

Chip is going to turn 35 in less than a month. I had the idea that I was going to have a big party, invite everyone and their kids over and feed them, but the expense from the most recent break-in has proven prohibitive. So if anyone has any cheap ideas about how to celebrate, let me know.

Stacey's latest crazy idea is that we need to start a dodgeball team. We watched some teams play recently, and although Chip and Connor loved it, I thought it was kind of scary. Obviously I am not cut out for it, but Chip insists that I'm "athletic" and would enjoy it. I think Cathy hit the nail on the head regarding my involvement: "But honey, you're a cheerleader." Agreed.

In case there is anything at my house you would like to "borrow," I need to warn you all that we are now protected by Brinks! First time we got security doors, the second time we got an alarm system- I guess we'll wait until next time (tentatively scheduled for the end of June) to get the rottweiler.

Chloe has been working on this scowl lately. It's funny now, but I'm sure we'll come to hate it in her teenage years.

You Can Always Go. . .

As long as Chip has worked Downtown, our budget has included a line for “Chip’s Lunch.” A whole world of restaurants greets him every day, and there is no way to avoid exploring it. I have long maintained that I enjoy taking my lunch to work and eating it at my desk, but it’s time to admit something- I’m jealous.

To begin with, I’m jealous that there are so many places he can walk to during his lunch hour. My choices are limited- I can walk to the gym and do whatever it is people do there, or I can walk to the Rat (the Rhodes cafeteria) and plunk down $4 for that day’s buffet of crap. No matter what they are serving, I always end up with a salad, a slice of pizza, and soft-serve ice cream. (When I was pregnant with Connor, I looked forward to that meal every day, but in the four years since his birth it’s lost some of its luster.) And while there are plenty of places to eat in Midtown, getting in your car, driving to Lenny’s and standing in line for a sandwich is just not the same as the Downtown experience of running over and grabbing a sandwich. And yes, I realize I’ve just revealed how lazy I am.

I’m also jealous of the Downtown social scene. Sure I can walk over to the Rat and there will be lots of people to visit with, but there’s something about the fact that we’re all coworkers that keeps me from getting too excited about it. No chance I’ll randomly run into someone I went to high school with, or an NBA player, or even a famous Memphis blogger. If I get in my car and drive somewhere, I might see someone interesting, but only in the confines of that restaurant. No running amok through the streets takes place on a Midtown worker’s lunch hour. And to emphasize again how unlikely many of us are to get in our cars in the first place- I work on the same campus as one of my best friends, and around the corner from another. The three of us have NEVER gone to lunch together. Ever. Tiff and I have managed this feat alone one time. And although Cathy and I have been known to go to the gym together at lunch, we have never actually broken bread during that hour of the day. Amazing.

Lately Chip has been trying to lure me Downtown for lunch. He finally declared that I must come have the crawfish BLT at Lolo’s Table- no excuses. So I bit the bullet, collected some spare change for a parking meter, and headed out for lunch. It was great. We passed a million places to eat on the way to our destination, we knew our waiter, we had great food, and we even found time to go buy lottery tickets when the meal was over. We dreamt about how, if only we were childless, we could live Downtown and go to a different bar every night to people watch and enjoy great food and wine. (We’d be able to afford it- no daycare bills!) And then I drove back to Midtown, happy in the knowledge that next week I’ll be back Downtown eating a Santa Fe Chicken Wrap.

Nick and SA

Back in the spring of 1993, my roommate’s boyfriend went to the Crossroads music festival in downtown Memphis and came home a changed man. “This band, 311- they rock! They got on stage and opened with this song called Welcome and it blew me away! I bought their CD- let me play it for you!” He was right- they rocked. Soon they were my favorite band too.

Eventually I married my roommate’s boyfriend, and we had kids, and to no one’s surprise those kids are huge 311 fans too. When Connor was a newborn, he cried every night from about 7:00-8:00. The only things that would settle him down were if I carried him around outside, or if we played Creatures by 311 really loudly and danced while holding him.

Last year, the 311 Day concert was held in Memphis (March 11- get it?). I had a ticket, and insisted I was going despite being 38.5 weeks pregnant. Unfortunately, I had a dramatic spike in my blood pressure that morning, and after spending the day at the hospital was allowed to go home only if I promised to rest until my c-section appointment that Thursday. I sent Chip to the concert without me and spent the night at home crying. Fortunately, HDNet was on hand to film that concert for me. (Still not the same as being there!) We recorded it when it aired, and Connor was thrilled. Lately he’s been wanting to watch the concert daily. He likes the songs where “everybody jumps!” and the ones that “rock it out!”

This week at his school is rock star week, where he is supposed to dress like his favorite rock stars and bring their CD to school. And here’s where the problem lies. This band is not at all preschool-friendly. Their audience is mostly stoners (which we aren’t, and never were, but we like them anyway) and the lyrics to the songs talk sometimes about smoking pot and often have bad words. Connor hasn’t noticed any of that, because in his mind “butt” is the only real bad word. In fact, he can point out the song lyric when they say “knock you on your butt,” but has never once taken notice of an f-bomb. I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to him that he can’t take any of their CDs to school this week. I am certainly not going to tell him why. I’m prepared to discuss bad words when the time comes, but there is no way I’m going to point them out to him. In the meantime I’ll send him to school with a Death Cab for Cutie CD and be thankful that he’s not into gangsta rap. Yet.

B-E Aggressive, and weekend happenings

Chloe has developed a new aggressiveness in the past couple of weeks. This kind of shatters my idea that she and I are kindred spirits in disposition and temperament. I, for example, have never growled and dive-bombed my head, with all 7 sharp teeth bared, after the hand of someone trying a bite of my food. I am not so earnest in my desire for 3rd or 4th helpings of my dinner that I screech and bang the table.

Maybe this is all tied to moving into a new room at school, where obviously they don't have enough food to go around. Survival of the fittest, or something like that.

We enjoyed our trip to Nashville this past weekend, to celebrate my grandfather's 75th and Mimi's (why should I publicize Mimi's age?) birthdays. Chloe spent lots of time looking cute for all the relatives, but I know her true nature.



Connor, meanwhile spent the time perfecting his crane kick:



I spent the time taking super-zoomed pictures of the animals at the Nashville Zoo:


And engaged in deadly-serious bouts of Nintendo Wii with Bwana:

It's Not Possessive!

So earlier this year I vowed to post more, in the form of lists. Then Chip didn't like my list about a TV show, and my momentum was lost. (It's probably best to leave the list-making to the professionals anyway.)

But some days I just don't want to tell you treacly stories about how cute my kids are. Today is one of those days. So here is a short list of my strongest, most irrational pet peeves.

1. Men who condescendingly refer to their wives as "the boss" and talk about how much trouble they're going to be in if they do so-and-so (have a beer with their friends, watch the game rather than going to a couples dinner party, etc.). If your wife is so petty, and your interests are so conflicting, then why did you marry her? If you know she's going to get mad, why are you doing it anyway? And if you don't mean any of it, then why are you driving me crazy! Ugh!

2. When anyone touches my knees.

3. Men who have longish, manicured fingernails. (I'm talking about you, Sayid.) For some reason I can't control, I have an intense negative reaction to this. So if you're one of these men, I apologize for the involuntary shudder you saw when we first met.

4. Misuse of apostrophes. I'm no grammar perfectionist, but this is my pet peeve of all pet peeves. If you are making a word possessive, you need an apostrophe. If you're making it plural, you DO NOT. For example: We had a perfectly lovely meal at Bari a few weeks ago, right up until they handed us their newsletter. Apparently they now have Martini Monday's! That's right, $5 martini's on Monday nights this month. I want to know- how did "nights" get spared in this massacre? Fortunately the food was good enough that I can overlook this. And it didn't hurt that those martini's were strong, either.

(More) Birthday Girl

On Saturday we had family over to watch Chloe eat cake and open presents. She dressed the part of diva, but her behavior was angelic.

Although we didn't really discuss it, we were all secretly wondering how Connor would handle a gathering where the attention was so clearly focused on someone else. To our collective surprise, he didn't seem to care at all. He was just excited about seeing everyone and sweetly stayed in the background so that our girl could enjoy her day.


Then Sunday he gave her one last present- her first fat lip.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

Dear Chloe,

Today you turned one. Part of me can't believe that a whole year has passed since the day we first met. The other part of me looks into your eyes and feels like I've known you my whole life.

Before you came along, I had a feeling I might only raise boys. And I was fine with that- I had heard boys were easier, I knew I would relate to them pretty well, and I was enjoying Connor. As long as my second baby was healthy, I didn't care what you were. But then they told me you were a girl. I asked the lady again and again if she was sure. She thought I kept asking her to double-check because I was disappointed. On the contrary- I just want to be certain before I gave myself over the excitement of having a girl. And I was truly excited. I never knew how much I wanted you until that day. Or maybe I did, and I was scared to admit it in case it didn't happen. (After all, as soon as I knew I was pregnant I told your dad that I wanted to name you Chloe.)

Then you came into the world, and I was able to fall in love with you, not just the idea of you. I love how you have curly hair like me, and blue eyes like your dad. I love how excited you are when you eat. I love the way no one makes you laugh as hard as your big brother. I love watching you figure things out, like how to get a spoonful of food into your mouth. I love how you put your socks against your feet and look at me expectantly, waiting to be praised for remembering where they go. I love when you sing in your soft little voice. And I love how your hand feels when you reach out and touch me.

I also cherish every minute that you love me most, because one day you'll be a teenager and you won't. But I'll remind you that you used to look longingly at me when I left you at daycare, that you used to rely on me above all others to meet your needs, that you used to reach for me when anyone else held you. And I'll patiently wait on you to grow up a little and realize that you still rely on me, that I still live to meet your needs. You're my little girl, and I love you. And I always will.

Love,
Mommy

Picky Picky

Connor is a picky eater. This is not surprising, considering he comes from a long line of picky eaters. My father lived his whole life without ever trying peanut butter because he didn't like the way it smalled. My mom thought my grandmother had been a bit of an enabler, and vowed not to indulge her own children in the same way when it came to food. But my brother and I were no match for her, and soon she was waiting an extra 10 minutes for special-order fast food, because pulling the pickles off of a pre-made McDonald's hamburger wasn't good enough for me and my brother- no, when we said we wanted it "plain," we meant PLAIN. We grew up picky. We've gotten better in adulthood, no doubt from our time working in restaurants, but we are probably still more finicky than most.

So now it's my turn. I, too, idealistically approached feeding my child. Breast milk only! Then organic foods! And then ethnic foods! Mmmmmmmmm! Connor would eat stuff I shoved in his mouth, but he was never very enthusiastic about it. Cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, and cheese quesadillas, with a side of fruit (in light syrup) soon became the norm. Hummus, refried beans, scrambled eggs, and any other form of protein he had accepted as a baby were soon abandoned by the toddler. I eventually got protein in him in the form of Tyson Southern-style chicken nuggets. And an occasional slice of pepperoni, if he's in the mood for pizza. But five nights out of seven, he has chicken nuggets and fruit, and maybe a piece of cheese or a starch.

I tried to avoid this. I made sure to offer him foods over and over, once I heard you might have to offer a food 16 times before your kids would be willing to eat it. (Eventually I realized it would be more prudent to teach him to say "no thank you" rather than throwing the offending food on the floor.) A year or so ago, I read that you should offer your child the same thing you're eating ONLY, not to give him a separate meal. Just make sure there is something on the menu that you know he'll eat. So I planned a week's worth of menus that the whole family could enjoy. Ha! I'm not exaggerating when I say it was one of the hardest weeks of my life. Every night was a struggle, sometimes turning into a full-on fight. Every night Connor and I cried. That was when I decided that Connor was just going to be picky. He wins. It's not worth it to me to fight that battle. Chip is good with this too, although occasionally he starts to worry that Connor will never eat anything. I just remind him that I was a picky kid once, and I turned out okay. I also try to explain that I know how Connor feels, that I remember how strongly I didn't want whatever food was being pushed at me. So despite rare situations where Chip aggressively pushes new foods at Connor, on the whole are happy to follow our kid's lead.

Since we gave up, things have been fine. I feed Connor what he'll eat. He continues to grow, to not get sick often, to thrive. Every night I tell him what I'm having for dinner and offer some to him. Every night he says, "No thank you." And if he lives his whole life having never tried Reese's Pieces because he "doesn't like peanut butter," I will just have to respect that decision.

Overheard

Weekend quotes:

Chloe! Get down from there! Somebody get her off of that.

There's Uncle Shannon!

Just spit the blood in the sink, Connor

Hey Chip, I'm still at Babies R Us. I just made eye contact with some guys who were shoplifting at Bed Bath and Beyond, so I left. But I can't get in my car because their getaway car is parked right next to mine! The engine is running, there's a guy in the backseat, and they left the doors open on my side so I can't get in. Nah, there's no reason to tell anyone- I'll just walk around until they get done robbing BB&B. It probably won't take that long.

Don't you want to put some makeup on before we go see Senor Dreamy?

Let's go outside and play!

Give Aunt Carrie a big hug!

Mommy, you need to wash your car.

She just used the spoon to put food in her mouth! Oops- and her hair.

I can't get over how big that baby's eyes are!

The Unbearable Lightness of Spring

I am not necessarily conscious of a lull in my mental health, but I can assure you that I, along with my brood, will be in a much better mood in the coming weeks. This will be directly attributable to two things-- warmer temperatures, and more daylight. To the boneheads in Congress, congrats on actually passing something that I support whole-heartedly-- daylight savings kicking in at an earlier date. (Of course, this presents a problem for computers across the country on a level not seen since Y2K, but that's a different story.) The warmer temps allow much more activity outside, which is the only thing that keeps Connor (and consequently, Steph and me) sane. The longer daylight hours allow our weekdays to consist of something other than working, driving home, eating dinner, and watching TV.

So here's what prompted all this-- our first bloom popped up this morning:



We also get to eat fresh herbs again:



We will all toast the time change this weekend with a nice Martini. Ok, AppleJuice-tini for the kids.

(Lack of) Progress Report

Despite the protests from my logical brain, I have been unable to stop myself of late from comparing my children's progress to the progress of other children. Let me tell ya- things aren't looking too good for the next generation of Miller-Chockleys.

First off, Connor. This year in the Koala (three-year-old) Room, they are learning letters. Connor has learned to recognize most letters, but the sound they make escapes him. I'm sure it's hard to remember that an "A" makes the sound "aaaay". But certainly "Doc" does not start with a "T"! There are Toucans at his school who know that! I expected him to be reading by age three, not cutting out a picture of a car to add to his "T" homework sheet! Reading might sound like a tall order, until you realize that family legend has it my brother and I both learned to read at age three. So Connor's only got a few more months to get hooked on phonics- otherwise we'll have to turn our attention to athletics, the only college scholarship he will one day have a chance of receiving.


And then there's Chloe. Poor Princess Chloe, who can't be bothered to a) use her legs for anything other than kicking while I change her diaper, or b) use her mouth and tongue for anything other than processing food to be swallowed for digestion. Chloe will be one in a week. When her brother turned one, he had already mastered walking, deemed it too ordinary, and had begun running everywhere. Running after a "ball" or "mama" or "dada," or any of the other words he knew how to speak on the occasion of his first anniversary of life. Chloe prefers to remain mute, unless you count clicking your tongue as a form of communication. Which I think they do in some African nations, but somehow I don't think she's that advanced. Her other form of communication is to shriek at the top of her lungs, which usually deafens me as I am inevitably carrying her, putting her mouth and my ear in close proximity. I have spent a good deal of her first year telling her how smart and strong she is, but I think it's time to give up on that and start focusing on her looks. Perhaps one day she will be able to point and grunt towards a diploma, convincing a college recruiter that the pretty girl wants to go to school. Then he can carry her to her first class.

Happy Anniversary

Chip and I still celebrate our "dating" anniversary, mainly because it gives us an excuse to go out for a nice dinner. Lately this has backfired, as the nice dinner is used to celebrate Valentine's and the anniversary, all rolled into one. Some things were a lot more fun before having children!




I wonder if Chip would have put the moves on me thirteen years ago if he had known that in 2007 he'd be spending our anniversary cleaning up puke and spending the day with a sick, whiny, clinging baby. Those kids in the picture didn't know what they were getting into! But I sure am glad we got into it together. Happy anniversary!

Bits & Pieces

Just some things that don't warrant their own post:

I'm so happy that spring is trying to arrive early in Memphis! Yesterday afternoon I took the kids to the zoo,joined by the entirety of Team Zeno. ( We also ran into Team S.A.M- stop stalking me!) It was a perfect day for it- and it's still February! Maybe this global warming stuff isn't so bad after all! (I'm kidding, Stacey!)

The Oscars were great. Quick party recap: We had it catered, so preparation and clean-up were beyond easy! Di was in town and got to attend, so that was cool. I am personally offended that Cars didn't win any Oscars. This year I only saw four nominated films- Connor saw two! Man I'm lame. Tiff and I tied with 15 correct picks, so we will share the prize. (Movie passes.) I think we're planning to see Norbit.

We took Connor to his first hockey game over the weekend. He loved it! Worth the drive down south, I think, although the quality of play is a little lacking. C's reaction to the experience made up for that, though. We'll get him to some Redbirds games this year for sure. He's really been pushing to attend more sporting events lately. My boy!

Connor is still into all things scatalogical. At the zoo yesterday we noticed every animal's booty and compared the size of all their poop. He tries to work the word "butt" into conversation without getting into trouble. We try not to laugh. His pickiness has reached new heights, with a recent breakfast hunger strike. I took him to the grocery store and turned him loose on the breakfast aisle, telling him to pick something, anything, that he would eat. He settled on strawberry Pop Tarts (unfrosted), and ate half of one the next morning. Progress! Today he declared them "too crunchy" and rejected them as a breakfast option. Sigh.


Chloe is still eating everything in sight and refusing to walk on her own. She has some type of stomach bug that is keeping us home today, and no doubt she is depressed that it is interrupting her constant eating. For the record, Chloe thinks strawberry Pop Tarts are just fine.

Ode to S.A.M.

Of late, I feel I've really been on the same wavelength as S.A.M. It's time to quit ignoring it and just go ahead and write my love letter.

For awhile now, I've been fascinated by my internet friendships. I know people join dating services and meet people online, but this is different. I have developed real connections with people I've only met a handful of times, and all because we read each other's blogs. If I were still working on my sociology degree (I'm still just a paper away from that Master's!) I thinkI would delve into this topic. Sadly I'm not clever enough to write about it without academic prodding, but fortunately S.A.M. tackled the subject for me in the latest issue of Fertile Ground. I did much head-nodding while reading her essay, glad I wasn't the only one who thought this phenomenon was noteworthy.

Today S.A.M. has a blog post about why we stay in Memphis, even though we all know it is a cesspool. And it's the same thing I've always said. I'm a person who likes stability, likes to put down roots. When we were in our twenties, with no responsibilities and the whole world at our feet, I would shoot down the thought of leaving Memphis. My reasons were mainly that if I moved somewhere else, I'd live the same life- I'd find a few restaurants/bars/hangouts that I liked, and I'd frequent them. I'd get the same type of job, and go to it every day. The only thing that would be different is that I wouldn't have my friends and family with me, and what's the point in that to a person like me? Yes, sometimes Memphis seems to suck. But when it does, I imagine myself in a different city without the people I love, and I just work through it.

So I was already feeling the S.A.M. love when I received this email today: "Does anyone have any interest in joining Team S.A.M at the Riverkings game tonight?" She thought it was a longshot that any of her friends would want to go to a minor league hockey game. What she didn't know was that earlier this week, while watching hockey highlights on SportsCenter, Connor turned to me and said, "Can you take me to a hockey game?" I had already checked the Riverkings schedule to find a suitable night when we could take Connor down south. We had decided on March 10 (Hockey Mr. Potato Head giveaway night), but tonight suddenly seems like a much better option. I think we'll even listen to Sign O' The Times on the way to the rink, just to make the experience complete.

Then tomorrow we'll deal with the restraining order.

Faces of Chloe

Curly Diet Coke

Oh, and Steph wore her hair in its naturally-very-curly state for the first time in forever. The folks on Madison avenue took notice, and asked her to create a curly-haired-people-drink-Diet Coke advertisement.

Coke rejected my "pensive-black&white-looking-down-at-my-Diet Coke" idea.

Lots of pictures are all you care about anyway

Let's see, what has happened in the past week?

It snowed. A piddling little Memphis-sized snow. It's always so special to me when it snows, because I've always lived in a place where it rarely happens.

Connor and I played around in it, but weren't able to get a snowman going.


Chloe and Steph bundled up to join us briefly. Connor and I were blinded by the garish mishmash of colors they presented, and demanded that they return indoors.

How many times did Steph and I have sushi since the last post? Twice, I think.

(Madison Roll from Sakura, in case you're wondering.)

Father-Daughter QT

Steph took Connor to Nashville for a work conference (see Steph's post below), so Chloe and I are on our own for the next few days. Connor (3 and 1/2) is really such an attention hog that true one-on-one bonding time with my daughter is a precious commodity these days. Chloe and I are actually more alike in many ways than Connor and I are. Being the center of attention isn't all that important to us. Watching and listening are fun activities.



I can certainly handle all the day-to-day parenting by myself-- feeding, bathing, changing diapers, packing for school, etc. With no mommy around, we can go longer between diaper changes, and no one will know.


You smell something?

I plan teaching her all about the SuperBowl tonight. Of course, most of what I know about it comes from my wife...