Heptadecagon

Chrispea discussed super talents previously , and time travel, as DS commented, would be a great one. Supposing, though, that one had to choose among more modest selections than the ability to bend space and time to one's will, I think I'd like to the power to visualize function & vector spaces in more than three dimensions. Imagine knowing exactly what a hypercube looks like, or picturing in your head an infinite dimensional Hilbert space. I'd be like a Sphere in Flatland .

Melina and I went out this morning for a day of shopping and lunch. Sounds like fun, right? I did enjoy myself, since I was with Melina. But a day of shopping is not my idea of fun. Melina, however, enjoyed herself immensely! She put much thought into which outfits she chose in the little girls department. When we got to the ladies' section, I literally looked at a sweater and a dress, thought about them for 3 seconds, and threw them in the cart. If there was ever a child who is Not Like Me, it would be Melina. I've said it so many times on this blog, you are probably tired of hearing it. But if I didn't see her come out of me, I'd have thought she wasn't mine! Yes, the child looks like me. She speaks like me: "Aaron, I told you 5 times to stop doing that!" She eats like me: she just put away an ice cream treat after having an enormous slice of pizza (before you go off on bad parenting, we usually don't have ice cream after lunch and without

I have a feeling that this might be a really long post, and when you get to the end of it, you might not quite understand exactly what I am saying. I apologize in advance if that is the case. Sometimes, the blog is here just to get things off of my chest, or to put thoughts on paper that I'd like to try to express so I remember the feeling later. Emphasis on the try . Sometimes, I still have trouble making sure the meaning is clear by the end of the post. I have thought quite a bit over the last couple of months about my kids. They are growing up, so quickly, it seems, and I feel lucky to have an age range. I am able to still experience the wonder of the blue sky while at the same time trying to dodge the bullet of boys. Different, yet all good, at times. I have chronicled the mess that sometimes is 4th grade, I've talked about giving up nursing, I've clued you in to the joys and frustrations that go along with our little redhead. But I think the issue that is the m

We've had a bit of craziness around here lately. The stomach bug, as of this morning at 5:30 am, finally made it through the last of our human family. Aaron caved and is lying on the couch right now. The laundry is in, and another pile is waiting to be done. Speaking of done, I know I am. I can do without the craziness that seems to hover with sickness. Perhaps that craziness was behind my need to get out of bed two nights ago to post. I only posted because way back on November 1, I said I would post each day. But who is counting? Maybe you, dear FRN, are counting, but I doubt anyone else is. However, I happen to be the type of person who tries to do what she says she is going to do. Hence, the post, even though it was only a post in the most transparent sense of the word. I do wonder what other craziness we have yet to behold before the end of the year. With Christmas coming and winter vacation for the kids, I can only imagine what is yet to come. Have I just jinxed my

Tim and I bought Aaron a whiteboard for his birthday, and Tim hung it on Aaron's bedroom wall. Aaron has been enjoying the board, using it for drawings, games, and most recently, math. On Friday, while everyone else was downstairs playing or watching Scooby-Doo, Aaron was upstairs doing this: Apparently math outweighs Scooby-Doo in the fun department. I think he would have gone past 2,097,152 if I hadn't told him he needed to eat. I guess at least food comes in before math. For now, anyway!

Until midnight. I just came back down here because I remembered that I hadn't posted anything today! Last year when this happened, I didn't get out of bed. This year, I did. What does that mean? Am I more dedicated? More anal retentive? Crazy? All of the above? We'll think about that and perhaps get back to it tomorrow. Good night!

Every once in a while, I goof. Melina woke me up this morning at 5:30 am. That is a bit early for her, but not too much. I heard Melina's little sighs, but let her go a bit, and then decided I better go in and try to get her to go back to sleep. I crawled into bed with her, and realized the problem. Well, I could smell the problem. The poor thing had wet the bed. The sheets, the mattress pad, her pajamas -- all of it -- were reeking of urine. It wasn't a diaper fail , it was a mommy fail . Last night, Melina had taken a shower, and put her pajamas on before her snack. When we went up to bed, after snack, she went potty, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed. I read her 3 stories, and turned out the light. If I had had to put the pajamas on after doing the bedtime potty and brush routine, I would have remembered to put a diaper on the child. Instead, I sent her to bed diaper-less, and thus, the deluge. Melina has been potty-trained since before she was 2, but at nig

Full of love, full of laughter, and full of food. We called off the Thanksgiving festivities today with my parents and Brooke and Ian. We figured that no one wanted to have a side of vomit with their turkey (sorry to be crude). But we woke up healthy, and made a nice meal. We even made it to the park to play after eating said meal. So while we didn't get to have a nice visit with family and friends, I do think we had a pretty nice Thanksgiving. I hope you and yours can say the same. Happy Thanksgiving!

Of course, there could be many reasons why I need your help. But I don't have much time today, so I won't go into any of the other reasons why I might need your assistance. I need to buy some sort of computer that will help me in my quest to get everything done. I won't find one that will do laundry and homework or anything else, but I'd like to be able to have something small, something that works on a wireless network, and something larger than a phone. I would use it for checking email (work and personal), doing small bits of research, and perhaps typing up documents. My thought was to get an Ipad, but I've never used them. So, does anyone have an Ipad? Does anyone have any suggestions? All are welcome!

Last week, sunchokes (or sunroots) arrived in our Happy Box (the box we get from the CSA). They used to be called Jerusalem artichokes ( Helianthus tuberosus) , but they aren't related to artichokes, and are actually a species of sunflower. The tuber is what is harvested and eaten. The CSA provided a nice description of the sunchokes, as well as multiple ways to prepare them. I found it interesting that the sunchokes store the carbohydrate inulin, instead of starch. When I think of inulin, I go back to grad school where we first learned about Glomerular Filtration Rate (GFR) in the kidney. Essentially, the body filters and clears inulin, since it is neither secreted nor absorbed by any of the tubules in the kidney. In fact, the clearance of inulin is used clinically to measure GFR. Hmmm. Food for thought there (yikes, bad pun). What does this mean as far as digestion? Well, I could guess, that is for sure. Instead of looking it up, I prepared the batch (coating with olive

Despite the fact that Melina was sick yesterday, I went with some ladies to see the newest Twilight movie. I checked with Tim as to whether or not he wanted to be left with a sick Melina and 3 other children, and he said he didn't mind. Actually he said, "What is the worst that could happen? We all get sick and you come home to everyone on the couch. And the power is out." Thank you, Mr. Optimism. Anyway, we headed to the matinee. A friend of mine picked me up, and while I hesitated about driving in her car and giving her GI germs, she had, just the night before, cleaned up a GI mess when one of the kids at the birthday party she was holding decided to get sick. I figured that we'd be even. I haven't been to a full-pay movie in a decade. The last movie I saw in the theater, the first half of the 7th Harry Potter movie, was seen on a Tuesday night for $1.75. I couldn't believe it cost me $8 for a matinee, but I don't get out often, so in the end, I

Yesterday, at dinner, I was looking at Melina eat her food. She was packing away a huge amount, which wasn't too odd, considering she hadn't had an afternoon snack. While I was watching her, we spoke about preschool and what she liked, and how the teachers were, and whether or not she saw James on Thursday. Melina really likes James, and plays with him often. He has red hair, so it really isn't difficult to figure out why she gravitates to him. Anyway, while we were talking, I was thinking that Melina hasn't brought home the deluge of germs that the other kids did upon entering preschool. It makes sense; she has already been inundated with many germs from the other kids being in school. Mid-November, and except for a slight cold and a double ear infection (neither of which kept her from school), we'd seen nothing. I should not have even let that thought go through my head, I tell you! At 1:30 am, I heard Melina complaining in her room, something she usually do

Disclaimer: this post will use anatomical terms, such as breast and nipple. If that offends you, please leave now. Someone asked me recently if I still nursed Melina. The short answer is no. But there is a longer story to this, and I thought I'd share. If you are reading this, you probably know that I had, at least in my head, some cut-offs established as to when I would be done nursing. My first cut-off was at 12 months, but at the time, stopping just wasn't feasible. I then said I would stop nursing at 18 months. That is plenty of time on the boob, you know? That is what I thought, but Melina wasn't on board. Two years went by, 2 and 1/2 years went by, and then I said to her: "Once you start school, you cannot have any more mommy milk." She said okay, but didn't really mean it. After school that first day, she asked for mommy milk. And I gave it to her. I know, I know. I gave in. What are my reasons for the extended nursing? There are a whole h

It is that time of the year again. People will be calling me (you know who you are) for Tim's Mom's Turkey Recipe. I am not a fan of Thanksgiving turkey, mostly because as a kid, the turkeys weren't that tasty. Sorry, mom, but you know it is true. I always loved the smell of the cooking turkey, but the taste never quite lived up to the name. Then, I met Tim (and Tim's mom) and realized that Thanksgiving turkey can be good, great even. So, here is the recipe. Try it. You might find that you, too, are a Turkey convert. Remember, I was once completely vegetarian, too. For a 14 pound bird: 7 tsp salt 7 tsp garlic salt Italian seasoning pepper 3/4 stick butter (soft) Mash up the spices and the soft butter together in a bowl. Put under turkey skin, on the legs, and in the cavity of the bird. Put bay leaves and rosemary (if you want) under skin. Put the bird in the fridge overnight (or for two nights). Take out the bay leaves/rosemary before cooking. Tie the turkey

I never knew, as a kid, just how many decisions adults had to make. I was always ready to grow up, and now, I think I'd like to head back into the womb. My life isn't full of big decisions. I luckily have made a few good ones in what might be considered the big decision category, such as 1. husband, 2. whether or not to have kids, 3. what sort of house to buy, and 4. pets. But each day, little decisions come up. The one that gets to me the most is deciding what to have for dinner. If someone just told me each day what to cook, I'd do it. But the deciding what to have is the big problem. Dinner isn't the issue today. What is then? I'll tell you. We have this refrigerator that will need to be replaced soon. Right there -- a ton of decisions! What type? What style? What color? Water spout? Ice maker? But I might have the style, color, and type down. I don't need help with that. The problem is that this refrigerator is wedged into the corner of our

FRN asked what I'd like to have for a super talent. I am not sure that I the answer to that question, but it certainly got me thinking. (You will have to go with my stream of consciousness post here, sorry!) My enormous amount of common sense might, to some, be considered a super talent. So far, I don't know what it has done for me. What if I had the power to be invisible, something akin to Harry's invisibility cloak? I don't think so. There isn't much more that I'd do if I were invisible, so that won't quite work. Unlike Harry, I don't usually need to fight the dark powers that lurk in the night. I thought about being able to run at the speed of light, having more than two hands, and being able to do without sleep, and all of those would be great, but I realized, after having thought some more about it, that those talents (if you can call them that) are purely selfish. So, in this week or so before Thanksgiving, I thought that maybe a talent tha

Tim now sports a tattoo (albeit temporary) on the skin covering his deltoid muscle. If you don't know why, go back and read this . I thought it was hysterical when he showed it to me. And, he had no idea. I've known the guy for 13 years, and have been married for 11 of those. I guess I never mentioned that secret of mine to him. Perhaps, that is why they call it a secret.

Mondays are used for cleaning up around the house and running errands. I usually have a list of things to do: laundry, general clean-up, run to Trader Joe's, etc. Today, the quest was simple: Find a pair of clip-on earrings. I am sure the first question is why ? But I bet you can guess the who . Apparently, Melina felt the need to have a pair of earrings to go with her wedding outfit. She has had the dress, the veil, and the shoes for a while. This weekend, at the Spaghetti Dinner, Mrs. D gave her a ring that will work. The only thing missing? The earrings. Can't you just see my eyes rolling right now? We tried Goodwill first, but they only had black earrings. They had a nice fuchsia pair, too, but in classic Melina fashion, she nixed them, as they wouldn't match the rest of the outfit. Right next to Goodwill is an Elder-Beerman store. If there isn't a store that screams I'm Old! more, I don't know what it is. There just had to be a pair of clip-o

For some reason, I leave the uploading of pictures from the camera to the computer for Tim. I guess I do alot of other things around here, and I just haven't put camera pictures on my priority list. I need to put it there soon, because I often forget that we have some pictures that people might want to see. Therefore, this will be an easy post. We have pictures from Teresa's wedding, fall here at our house (including some Halloween pictures), and ways that the kids keep busy. Easy on the eyes, and easy on the writer! Below are Aaron and cousin Jacob in the church at Aunt Teresa's wedding. The girls had their hair done, and loved the pink, poofy dresses. So did Melina. This kid made it well past 11 o'clock that night. Don't worry, it is just a Shirley Temple in the glass! *** Halloween was nice for everyone. The weather cooperated, and friends were able to come over and trick-or-treat. We never did get a picture of everyone, but maybe next year. Here are the

The girls came home with their school pictures yesterday. I set the pictures in front of Tim, who spent a good minute looking at them. You could tell he was thinking hard about trying to guess correctly. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze was sharp. "That's Talia!" he said, as he pointed to the picture of Zoe. He looked sort of proud of himself. Alas, even the dad can't get it right. Because of times like this, when your kids are so identical that your husband can't see the differences, we decided it would be okay for the girls to each put a permanent stripe in their hair. We went to see Miss Chrissy, who first bleached some hair on each side of the girls' heads, and then put the color on. Talia opted for orange, while Zoe chose purple; the color frames the length of their face, and actually, looks great. Now, if you can remember which color goes with which girl, you won't make a mistake. It is a bit difficult to see the purple in this picture of Zoe, b

So, did I ever tell you that I have always been attracted to bad boys? Well, it is true. You wouldn't know it by my husband or by any of the people I dated in my previous life. The guys with the tattoos and piercings? Intriguing. Rocker boys? Always caught my eye, especially if they had dyed their hair. The crazier they looked, the more they attracted me. Have you ever read the Jessica Darling series by Megan McCafferty? Thanks to my friend Kelsey, I did. Marcus Flutie? So my type when I was younger. I would have gone for him in a heartbeat. Bad boy, plus he was intelligent. Perhaps that is why I really enjoyed reading those books; I lived vicariously through Jessica. The bad boys I met in real life, while outwardly attractive, just weren't attractive on the inside. This is going to sound like a generalization, and I apologize. But the bad boys I encountered? They tried to play it so cool, that they didn't care. The apathy was something I could do without.

That is one of the words I would use to describe my husband. Not because he is a pain in the neck, but because he gets headaches often. Little headaches, cluster headaches, and especially migraine headaches. Early on in our relationship, I discovered that Timmy would be out for the count due to a debilitating migraine headache. I can't stand the least bit of pain when it comes to my head, so I never could quite understand how he managed to get through. But this time, the headache isn't his. It's Talia's headache. For the second time this month, she has woken up with a pain in her head. The last time, it lasted for 2 days. We tried Ibuprofen, Tylenol, and cool washcloths, but nothing helped. Only time did. On the third day, it was gone. I spoke to the nurse at our doctor's office about Talia's headache. She said that migraines could develop this early, and if it happened again, to bring her into the office. I sent Talia to school this morning, as she did

Today is Wednesday. I try to run on Wednesday mornings around the time the kids leave for school. When I came downstairs this morning to start my day, I just felt like I was going to run fast today. I stepped out into the light rain to start my run, and I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen. The rain was a bit cold, and coming down harder than I expected. In the end, I did run faster than normal, and the rain was like a cleanser. That jog this morning was one of the best I have had in a long time! With such a glorious run behind me, I decided that I can no longer harbor these (ridiculous) feelings about 4th grade. I am letting go of the whole situation. I am putting my trust in the teachers, and my kids, and I believe that whatever ups and downs occur this year, in the end, the girls will have learned. I expect they will learn about more than just academic subjects...they'll learn about rules, and having to follow them, even when they don't feel like it. The

You know, as much as I don't want to rush things, I think that I am so done with 4th grade already. I am kind of tired of writing about my experience with the girls and 4th grade, but on the other hand, it does me good to get out my frustration in words. Let me say, again, how much I like our school, our teachers, and our prinicipal. I really feel grateful for everything that we get from our school. And to be honest, I might not be happy with any school -- my standards are that high. This is my question, though. How can I really appreciate the teachers and believe they will do a good job with the kids when the teachers themselves constantly make mistakes? (I have to put in here that I am not always the queen of grammar. I don't always construct sentences correctly, and sometimes, I take poetic license to go against the rules of grammar. There, I just needed you to know that I am not trying to be holier-than-thou.) Three cases in point: 1. On Monday's, we learn math

I just heard Scooby-Doo say that Fred's mom is "hot." This newer series is just wrong on so many levels. Too many for me to discuss today. Melina is wearing a halter dress (on November 7 of all days), white tights, and a pink fleece jacket. She is carrying her pink purse with her. She told me that she didn't like my sweater, because it is green. I carried and gave birth to Melina, but sometimes, I think she is not mine. The kids have started making Christmas lists. The lists include so many expensive items, I am sure that Santa and mommy and daddy will not be adhering to the lists. I have no plans to get Zoe, Talia, or Aaron an Ipad. Yes, it is on all three of their lists. Whatever happened to wanting Play-Doh? I am married to someone that really doesn't care what he looks like. Awesome, right? I wish I was able to be a little bit more like Tim. Examples? He wears torn sweaters and shirts to work, and has a pair of pants in a lovely shade of green. L

I JUST PULLED A 1/2 INCH LONG HAIR FROM MY OTHERWISE NON-EXISTENT MUSTACHE!!! And yes, I measured it. Just had to post this information. (I can't believe I admitted either of those facts.)

I stole the title of today's post from something Timmy said this morning. Due to the change in time, we decided to bring the kids to 8 am mass, and then send them on their way to religious education. We usually try to hit the 4:30 pm mass on Saturday instead of frantically getting everyone out the door at 7:45 am on a Sunday. But we had an extra hour today, so we decided to go a little nuts. Well, seems that everyone with little kids decided to do the exact same thing as we did today. A couple of pews over, I saw a few of the regular 8 am kids, but then I saw a family with 2 kids from around the corner, a family with 3 kids from up the street, a family with 4 kids that lives 2 streets over, and some other random families that I didn't know. Melina and I took a quick break to the bathroom, and when we got back to our pew, a good friend of ours and her family (they now have 6 kids) had settled in right in front of us. Well, most of them did. There wasn't much room in th

New to report, that is. I woke up this morning, a new day ahead of me, a new blog post to compose, and I can't think of anything to write! If I waited a bit, I am certain that something substantial would be said or happen around here, but we have a busy Saturday today. It isn't actually any busier than any other Saturday -- in fact it might be less busy now that soccer season is over -- but during soccer season, I don't try to write every single day. So, I am feeling a bit of pressure. Part of that pressure stems from my faithful reader from the North. Remember her? She is the one that called me a slacker . Apparently she enjoys reading the blog first thing in the morning while she has her coffee. I do appreciate the readership -- perhaps she can send her friends over -- but I am usually a step behind her. But, she does not work on Saturdays! Maybe I can catch up this weekend, and get a few blog posts ahead, and then next week, she can enjoy chasing after me! A g

I have a little ballerina girl here at home, complete with tutu and shoes. She looks real cute, I have to say. I even managed to get her to wear underwear under the tutu, just to make things more appropriate. But to Melina, being appropriate goes beyond the underwear. At least the sort that you wear on your bum. Being completely appropriately dressed means that underneath that frilly pink leotard with the light pink flower, lies a bra. My dingy, gray, nursing bra that (clearly) I no longer need and should be put to rest in the garbage pail. The straps are pulled as close to her as they can be, and the contraption is still falling off of her little body. Thank goodness the leotard is tight. It pulls the bra up against her flat chest and smooths everything over. Me: Melina, you really don't need a bra. Melina: Yes, I do. Me: But you don't have breasts. Melina: Look! [She pulls the leotard down and points.] Yes, I do. You were teasing me! We'll look back at this on

A friend of mine gave birth to her 6th baby a couple of weeks ago. A mutual friend set up a meal train via the meal train website . If you've never been a part of a meal train, the idea is for people to sign up for a day to bring the recipient family dinner. The recipient family, who is presumably in the throes of laundry and lunacy, doesn't have to cook, and the other people feel like they are helping. It is a win-win situation. I signed up last week to bring a meal tomorrow. The great thing about the website is that you can enter what meal you have decided to bring. I looked at what meals were already scheduled, and then signed up. I must say that I chose my meal according to the other ones already there. Several people had signed up to bring chicken, and there were very few that indicated that pasta of some sort would make a debut. Thus, I chose pasta, meatballs, salad, and dessert. I received a reminder email from the website today, stating that my day to bring a meal is to

Yesterday's prompt on the NaBloPoMo website was the following: What is your favourite part about writing? Yes, that is favourite with a u , in case my kids are reading this. Their u , not mine. I hadn't really thought about using prompts, but with my recent string of complaints on the blog, I thought maybe I'd try a prompt and move beyond the negative. Change is good, right? I have always loved to write. That might sound completely trite, but it is true. I remember writing stories and poems as a kid, and becoming lost in the art of writing. Most of my pieces weren't great, but apparently the teachers liked them. I remember my dad being in Iowa for 3 months during the end of 8th grade. I wrote him poems to keep him from missing us too much. Apparently, he liked them, too. I remember writing Harvey the Hippo stories for the school newspaper in high school, and I remember having to kill Harvey off, so to speak, when I graduated. I actually wrote about extingui

On this first day of November, we celebrate not only the kick off of my month long quest to post every day, but more importantly, the birth of our little red-headed angel, Aaron! Okay, he might not be an angel, but we can't deny he has red hair. I've said this before, but I'll say it again: As I pushed the soon-to-be-named Aaron out, the doctor said, "It's a boy, and he has red hair!" So Happy Birthday, Aaron! Somehow it is so hard to believe that he is seven already! We celebrated over the weekend, so I'll have pictures to post soon. This year, we had a Dr. Who themed cake, which turned out nicely, I might add. Aaron agreed. *** We trick-or-treated last night, so again, we will have more pictures to post. If I do this right, I can spread out the pictures we have and make my postings easier! Just kidding. I'll try not to be a slacker (ahem, Tara!). *** Sorry for a short post, but have you seen those last few? I thought perhaps you are tired of hearing