Ambient Noise

This morning, as I was sitting at the computer, doing something probably very important, I looked blankly up at the wall above my computer monitor and noticed just how noisy it was in my house. That isn't to say that I hadn't heard the noise. I had. I always do. But I have gotten VERY good at ignoring it for extended periods of time.

It is, I expect, something that almost all parents do (except for the really good, and really bad, ones, probably). I know my parents did it. I would stand and repeat "Mom, Mom, Mom, MOM, MOM, MOM! MOM! MOM!" until she eventually looked over at me with a mildly put-out look in her eyes and say, "What?" To which I would reply something like "You don't even know who the Power Rangers are." (Note: I would have NEVER said this to my mother as a child. Because Power Rangers didn't exist until I was in high school or so, I think. But, amusingly enough, while I was typing out the beginning of this paragraph, Gabe, who's sitting on the floor in here, playing with Legos, was saying "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," over and over. When I said what, he said that Power Rangers thing. But I'm sure whatever I had to tell my mom was just as useful.).

But today, when I looked up at my wall, the kids were bickering, sort of, in the dining room. I tried to get the best parts of it on video, but Gabe saw me with the camera so he stopped the shouting that he was doing in reaction to Norah. They had been doing this for probably five minutes before I took the video. It's probably also worth noting that Norah was getting this much pleasure out of tormenting Gabe after five minutes of already doing it. She's trouble.

Darth Vader and Hoochies

Last week Gabe watched the last two Star Wars movies (of the THREE that exist). He was quite taken by them. Before we watched Empire, I did what I could to make sure he, like all true fans, agreed that it was the best of the three movies. Sure it's depressing as hell (I don't think I saw it for the first time until shortly before Jedi was in theaters--and I saw that one in a theater--so there wasn't any big looming question about what happened to Han in my world), but that's what makes it the best. It was the last Star Wars movie made for adults, without a burgeoning toy market to take into consideration (which can be the only explanation for the creation of the Ewoks, which were an almost likeable option compared to what Lucas did to the prequels). Jedi was Libby's favorite. She likes the Ewoks. And she told Gabe as much.

After he watched Empire, he agreed with me that it was his favorite Star Wars movie and went on to say that it was the best movie ever. He hasn't seen Schindler's List yet (I figure five is a good age to introduce the Holocaust to him), so I took that with a grain of salt. Then, two days later, he watched Jedi, and all bets were off. He loved the "little bears" as he called them. He was actually far less drawn into the movie up to the point of the Ewoks--it took him two tries to get through before he had the attention span to pull it off--but once the Ewoks and the space battle started, he was glued to the TV.

Anyway, shortly after that, this video happened.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before that the villain who haunted most of my childhood dreams was Darth Vader (I used to do this thing where I would hide down, under the covers, at the foot of my bed and pretend that Luke and I were hiding from Vader, who was wandering around our room, looking to slice us to bits). So I'm glad that I could share that with Gabe. He hasn't really had any problems in the dark at bed time, though, so he might need to see Empire a few more times so it sinks in.

So there was that. And then there was this.

For Christmas, Norah received a Dora the Explorer doll. It's a weird thing. She's a teenager (I think she's got a new series or something). I am failing to see who this is supposed to appeal to. She's still doing more or less preschool type things, so I think it's geared for preschoolers. However, she's a teenager (or preteen or something, I don't pay that much attention to girl things), so the doll has all sorts of accessories that she can be dressed up in--which seems less like a preschool thing. At least Norah hasn't really grasped the concept. She LOVES to change Dora's shoes, but that's about it. Well, that's not true. She likes to get Dora naked, too. She just doesn't like putting her clothes back on. Probably there is something I should say about that, but I'll pass.

Last week, though, I got tired of getting Dora dressed again just so Norah could take her clothes back off, so I told Norah as such and insisted that she dress Dora on her own. So she spent a goodly amount of time consumed in the activity. And when she was done, this is what she created:


I'm afraid the picture might not entirely do the doll justice. Dora is wearing underwear--a bra and panties. When she's naked, that's all she has on. They are pink. Now, if you look closely at the doll, you'll notice that she's wearing a shiny gold jacket that only goes slightly below her boobs--opened up, of course--and a pair of capri stretch pants, which are barely pulled up over her pubic region. If not for the bra and panties, she would be arrestable. And THIS is what my two year old daughter thinks is appropriate dress (I'm not sure how the single shoe works into it--it's probably code for something that, being old, I don't understand). These kids today!

Norah's First Day of School

I've got quite a chunk of pictures and video to post on here from the Christmas break, but I just don't have the means to tackle that right now. Instead, I'll skip ahead a bit to yesterday.

Norah started preschool yesterday. The place she's going (where Gabe's been for the last year and a half) allows 2 1/2 year olds, so they kept an open spot through the fall semester so she could join this spring. This is super good as she's been a real pill every Tuesday/Thursday when I've had to drop Gabe off and she's had to spend her mornings with me. Plus, it means I'll get a couple hours to myself every week, which can only improve my sanity.

Not surprisingly, the day started off a bit shakily. While we were rushing around, trying to get everything in order--gathering all of their stuff and getting some dishes and laundry going and doing all the other things that we generally do early in the morning to make the rest of the day go by with as few snags as possible--she managed to mangle her upper lip. Nobody knows what she did, and she wasn't able to fill in any blanks in the details either.

More or less, as I was putting dishes away, she walked into the kitchen with a stunned look on her face. She had her hand up to her mouth so I couldn't immediately see what the problem was. Then she pulled her hand away and looked at it. It was full of blood, as was her shirt sleeve. And when she saw it, all hell broke loose.

She shrieked and started vigorously rubbing her face with her hands and sleeve to try and get the blood off--which, clearly, was a terrible idea, but there's no telling her what the sensible thing to do is.

After a time, Libby was able to staunch the flow of blood (Norah wanted nothing to do with me stopping it, since there were plenty of other people in the house to choose from and I am always her last choice if she's given one) by putting a band-aid on her upper lip. It was the only way she could apply any sort of pressure to stop the bleeding.

I'm afraid we really dropped the ball on the picture taking with the bandaid. She's wearing it here, but the picture just doesn't do it justice.

Eventually, Libby had to take the band-aid off, which was a bit problematic. It was stuck pretty good. Onto her upper lip and a pretty fresh flesh wound. There was screaming and more blood. But it stopped more quickly this time and Norah went about playing with the dollhouse here. Gabe came over for a bit and helped her out, but didn't stick around too long.

I asked Gabe after school how Norah did on her first day. He said she did pretty well, but I'm not sure by what standard he was grading her performance. After a bit more pestering, I learned that she pretty much spent her entire morning sitting at this dollhouse, only being pried away a couple times for group activities. Why she has such a fascination with this dollhouse, when we have one here at home that's just about as big and has even more stuff, is one of those questions for the ages. Different is always better, I guess. Also, that's my crotch in the background. You're welcome.