Time warp

I lost a week. A whole week! Not in the real world, of course, but my usual blog writing time is either after Calvin is in bed at night (when, for the past week, we've been working until the wee hours on a project for work) or when he is in bed during the afternoon for naptime. Well, guess what? That few hours reprieve in the middle of the day is no more. Though he is actually still happy to oblige with a nice two to three hour nap every afternoon if I send him up to take one, the extra afternoon sleep was making bedtime into a battle, and even after he was in bed, at around 9pm, he wouldn't fall asleep until almost 11pm, and would spend the time between yelling for this or for that, or singing (albeit happily) at the top of his lungs. Sans nap, he is now in bed ten minutes before 8pm, and is asleep before the hour hits. Amazing! And quiet. And since he's not unhappy during the day without the nap, and is very willing to spend an hour or more of "quiet" time alone in his room anyway, this is the route we've decided to take, not to mention that it is easier to organize a day without having a chunk of time during which I am chained to the house to tiptoe around a sleeping child after hanging a do-not-disturb sign on our usually friendly front door. It is a new-found freedom.

But I did lose a whole week last week, and rather than try to go back and pick it up, I'm just going to start fresh from right here, now that I have my new daily structure re-worked out. I'll be back with pictures later, and crafts, meal plans, recipes, etc. I can see already that my hour of "quiet time" this afternoon will be busy.

Another year, another license

This past weekend I celebrated a birthday. I didn't dwell on it too much; Any day that is set aside for celebrating life and eating things like cake is okay in my book. We celebrated with a quiet morning at home, and a quietly joyful evening at my parents'. I don't feel old, I feel liberated; "Fitting in" no longer concerns me, I'm getting much better at leaving mole hills to their original size, and at the same time I still feel really young and with it.

This was that once every few years that I had to actually go into the Secretary of State to renew my driver's license. Expecting the usual long wait while the government workers behind the desk shuffled from one computer to another, spendng ten minutes to do five minutes worth of work, I prepared Calvin for the event and packed a bag full of books. I was right, too; we got through most of the fifteen books we'd packed before we were finally called for our turn, then I signed a paper, paid for my right to drive, and was ushered (with surprising efficiency) to the camera for my new mug shot. Calvin stood between my legs, smiling indulgently at the camera aimed well over his head towards my own smiling face, and then we were done. It was actually thirty easy minutes and an errand well done. Then I got my new license in the mail today, and you know what? I look a lot older than I thought. Oh well.

We had to try twice to get a picture of the candles on the cake—the little boy sitting on my lap blew them out the first time before the pan had even hit the table.

Cats love a good book

Either that, or they love a warm body near them in a cozy chair. Cookie and Calvin have always had what others might be tempted to call a thorny relationship; when Calvin was young he loved nothing better than to "love" the cat, and sometimes that kind of love still sneaks in under the guise of toddler exuberance. For the most part, though, their kinship has along with Calvin's greater sense of responsibility and tenderness.

Calvin is responsible for feeding Cookie, and it is to him that she directs her plaintive mews first thing in the morning or in the waning light of evening. Calvin is the only one in our family who is sucker enough to turn the bathroom faucet on at a dribble to allow her to drink. Calvin is also the only one who really takes a good nap  every day, providing Cookie with a comfy and warm cuddle spot to while away the afternoon.

It works in the other direction, too. Of all the household memebers, Cookie is the only one who doesn't have interrupting chores or work to do, and who will sit still long enough to be the recipient of a well-planned tea party, an acted out play or felt story time, or the reading of a delightfully long book (especially, you see, if she is napping). She is also the only pet mindful of the kid's personal space, whereas the blind little dog and the clumsy big dog tend to step on train tracks and collapse block buildings.

I am allergic to animals, particularly to cats, and there are days here and there when, as much as I love our pets, I find myself wishing them away along with my stuffy nose or itchy eyes, but this kind of companionship is a lesson in itself, and a valuable one at that, and while we'll probably never adopt a cat again, I am thankful for Cookies presence and the friendship she gives, in particular, to that precious little boy.

Afternoon sun on a cold winter's day

For Christmas this year we were given a window bench for our pop out window and my Godmother made a cushion for on top. Since then this has become the favorite spot in the house when the winter sun streams through the window in the mid afternoon. If I'm lucky I'm able to claim a spot for myself after Calvin lays down for his nap, and many an afternoon has found me dozing there, my head bobbing and weaving over the book I'm pretending to read. Cookie, however, believes that the spot was made entirely for her benefit, especially with the bird feeders being only a few feet away in the front garden. Can't you tell how intrigued she is by the bird feeders? I thought so.

Wearing a hat inside

When the furnace breaks and you wake up in a house that is only fifty-four degrees on a morning when the frost is so thick it looks like it snowed overnight, that's a good time to wear a hat inside the house.

When someone in the house finally figures out how to wire the thermostat to jumpstart the furnace and the sweet sound of the blowers fills the air only moments before the heat iteslf arrives, that's when you'll find the dachshund staking out his place by the register under the sink. Don't step on him, he's just trying to get warm. He doesn't have a hat to wear inside.