Heptadecagon

Act I: On the way to the barbershop, with Zoe & Talia. The radio is on. Z&T: Is this that Car Talk ? Me: Yes. Z&T: Yea!! Me: Do you think these guys are funny? Z&T: Yes. Act II: In the basement with Aaron. Aaron: This is the shield that I made, and I didn't have to wait for it to dry because I used duct tape! Me: Congratulations, Red Green. Finis.

Sing it with me, Dolly: Islands in the Kitchen That is what I build No one's up with me Why's this take so long? Chris and I almost never get each other gifts. If we need something, we get it, but we're both of the mindset that we really don't need much. But this year, I decided to be different, and hopefully not in the "Watch this; I'm about to do something stupid" way. When her family came for Thanksgiving , we moved our old (pre-children) dinner table to the kitchen to give us a little more space to work. This is what it looked like: Useful, but not the most aesthetically pleasing. And what's more, Aaron would put his fingers in the leaves and then lift them up. I thought a proper kitchen island would be nice, but one on wheels so that we can move it out of the way if we want to, and definitely one with no drop leaf (and locking wheels at that so Aaron can't push it into the dishwasher). After too much time surfing the web for kitchen isl

This morning as I was driving to work, I had one of our local public radio stations on. The program airing was a local production, a discussion of the " December Dilemma " -- how different faiths handle all the December holidays, but in particular, how Jews deal with the inevitable association of Hanukkah with Christmas. Unfortunately, the radio station decided to open up the phone lines which allowed some idiot to get air time. I don't know his name, but we'll refer to him by the initials ASG (A Stupid Gentile). ASG's argument was (not an exact quote, but as close to his words as I can recall) that Christmas and Hanukkah are not even comparable holidays because one commemorates the birth of a divine saviour, while the other celebrates a candle that burned a little longer than people thought it would. Yes, Hanukkah is, in the scheme of things, a minor Jewish holiday, but wow, talk about a pedestal and a mud puddle. Can I even begin to describe to you how much

My friend Sarah is not just an athlete, she gets sports. She's competitive & talented, and I'm not just saying this because I'm going to tell her I mentioned here (but I am). Shortly after Chris and I became parents, and a little before Sarah became a parent, we were talking about indoor rules. Her main point was that all the rules about playing inside seem designed to discourage athletic activity: No running in the house, No playing ball in the house, no jumping down the steps, and on and on. That's the kind of sportschick she is (Sarah, if you object to being referred to as a sportschick, just tell me so and suggest a replacement term). For precisely the reason Sarah cited, I've always been kind of lax about enforcing the rules against horseplay in the house. I'll say things like "No running," or "No soccer," but my heart's not really in it. I like seeing the kids learn to use their bodies. The passageway from the living room

In this post , Chris mentioned not being a fan of feeding a baby. I love it. I enjoy putting a spoonful of some random vegetable & milk mush into Melina's mouth, watching how much of it comes back out, catching the expelled bits on the spoon, and putting it back in the ring for a second go around. And then a third, and then a fourth. Sometimes while she's gumming a spoonful of stuff, she'll put her index and middle fingers in her mouth. I don't even mind when she takes those two sticky, slobbery fingers and grabs for me or for the spoon I'm holding. I don't mind that it changes the consistency and (especially this) the smell of her poop. I don't mind that afterwards, she has crusty bits of dried food on her face, under her chin, on her eyebrows, and up her nose, but not on her fingers. They've been in her mouth and are still sticky and gooey. But that's just me. I'm ok with messes and filth and squalor.

As I was preparing a lecture today (for the quarter that starts in January, yikes!), I stumbled across a great website . Why is it is so great? Because they sell... What, you may ask. What do they sell? A contorted dove? A stuffed turkey? Ice covered windows for you to draw on? No, they sell anatomical heart necklaces! Be still MY beating heart! The company is out of them until after the holidays, after which, they will email me to let me know when I can purchase one. Better hurry, they might go fast :)

Melina has always been a great eater. No latch-on troubles for this little lady; she likes her milk and seems to always want more. I asked at her 4 month visit if we could start cereal, and the doctor gave the okay. Now, 1 month later, Melina is loving her sweet potatoes more than the cereal, but will eat rice cereal with a couple spoonfuls of sweet potato mixed in. At this age, milk is still her primary source of nutrition (as it should be), but it is nice to know she is on her way to having a seat at our table. Or is it? I somehow managed to forget (despite the 3 who came before) how messy a baby is when she is learning to eat. Most food OUTSIDE the baby, not INSIDE the baby. Zoe, Talia, and Aaron think watching Melina eat is almost as good as watching a television program. I, on the other hand, cringe to think that I have many meals ahead of me where wiping the person up is as important as wiping the table before her. That sounds awful, but please, let me say this: I think

It is cold and snowy here, and just about the time of year I start missing Ann Arbor. Why, you might ask, do I miss Ann Arbor in the winter? Well, I really miss the place all year round, but in the winter, I miss our apartment and the free heat that went with it. Our two bedroom place was so hot, we didn't need to wear sweaters indoors, even if we had the thermostat set to 66. When the heat was on, it was ON. So, every year, when the mercury dips and I start turning blue (despite the 5 layers I am wearing) I long to be back in that two bedroom apartment in Ann Arbor. Of course, if we WERE in that two bedroom place in Ann Arbor, the girls would have our old room, Aaron and Melina would be sharing the little bedroom, the cats would have to hide from the dog in the bathtub, and Tim and I would be stuck with the couch and the floor, both of which would most likely be hidden by all of the stuff we have miraculously accumulated in the years since having kids. So, do I really miss A

We managed to get through Thanksgiving with seven adults, six children, two cats, and one dog in the house. There were no arguments about politics. Nobody got food poisoning (hey, that's a risk you run when you have two vegetarians cook the turkey for Thanksgiving). And everyone had a place to sleep. It was nice having everyone here. Ok, that and it was nice that we didn't have to stuff the children in the car for a 6+ hour trip and find someone to take care of the pets while we were gone. Zoe and Talia were fascinated with the process of carving the turkey -- not the meat itself, but the bones. They wanted to collect all the bones and put the turkey skeleton back together. They completely get this from their mom, but I will admit that it's pretty cool that you can separate the vertebrae and see the spinal cord inside. That was nifty. Because of scheduing conflicts with naps, feedings, diapers, and walks, we never did get all six kids in the same spot at the same t

In the flurry of activity that goes with hosting Thanksgiving, I've let my mind wander away from the tasks at hand. Don't get me wrong...I don't mind hosting. Actually, we offered, as we didn't want to have to drive 4 hours with 4 kids and a dog, plus find a cat sitter for the weekend. So, having people come down here should be easier for us, but getting the house ready has made me want to escape. Why, might you ask? Because let me tell you: cleaning up after 4 kids, a dog, 2 cats, and 2 adults is not too bad, but KEEPING it all clean is a bear! Here is my usual conversation with the kids after they get home from school: "Didn't I just throw that piece of paper in the recycling bin?" "Yes, mommy," says one of the girls. "But that one is Aaron's. You put mine in the recycling bin." "Why is this hat still up here? Doesn't it belong in the basement?" I ask. "Well, we don't want to play with it in the basem

So as I was cleaning up the dining room this morning, I overheard this strange little song sung by my favorite redhead. Aaron was singing it with much animation in his voice to a tune he apparently made up. Do you know what are my favorite colors? My favorite colors are red and black and orange and green and blue! Why? Because they are Halloween colors!! Red -- for blood. Black -- for the sky and a witch's hat. Orange -- for pumpkins . Green -- for poison and bug guts. Blue -- because it is just my favorite color. Aaron chanted this a couple of times to Melina, who lay quietly mesmerized by the antics of her older brother. When I entered the room, he became quite shy about singing it. Aaron has this fascination with Halloween; he likes jack-o-lanterns, cemeteries, bats, you name it. It might be caused by being born the day after Halloween. Who knows? My favorite part happens to be the bug guts. I mean, where do kids get this stuff?!?

Zoe: Daddy, look under there. Tim: Under where? Zoe: Ha! I made you say "underwear!"

As I said in the previous post, Olivia came to visit with the grandparents. She enjoyed herself immensely, as did our kids. We all had a grand time, in fact. Olivia stated the morning she was leaving that she had other plans; she was going to live with us. I am sure her Mom had other ideas, so back to Pennsylvania she went. Here she is with Shadow, our dog.

So here it is, almost a week since my last post. Didn't I say I'd keep this site updated weekly? What was I thinking? I am certainly glad I didn't rise to the National Blog Posting Month Challenge! Some weeks, I am betting I could post every day; this week, posting has been hard. Melina has been a little off -- she didn't take her usual 2 naps a day -- and Aaron was particularly crabby. Perhaps it was leftover from being sick last weekend and early this week. In any case, I was unable to sit at the computer and write something coherent over the past couple of days. Has anything interesting happened? Oh, plenty. We had a visit from Grandma and Grandpa C. last weekend, and this weekend, Grandma and Grandpa M. came out as well. Tagging along with the M's for the ride, all the way from Pennsylvania was our niece, Olivia. The kids were thrilled to learn Olivia would be coming, and actually, I was, too. We don't get to see any of our siblings children enou

We finally have a piano. I say "finally" because I have wanted a piano for so long, but we just never got around to purchasing one. Okay, maybe it was really that we were grad students living on grad student budgets for quite awhile, and living in a two bedroom apartment with twins. I grew up in a house with a beautiful baby grand piano, and a baby grand is what I would ultimately like to get some day. In the meantime, however, we found a nice-sounding spinet piano that fits where the the pack-n-play used to be. Don't worry, we didn't trade Melina for the piano; she takes her naps upstairs now. The kids are enjoying it, and the only rule we have with respect to piano playing (so far), is not to play when Melina is sleeping. Well, I guess the kids aren't supposed to pick up the piano key cover by themselves...so two rules. I include a picture of Zoe, Talia, and Aaron doing their best impersonations of Chopin. On another note, we took some great pictures of

Enough cannot be said of Halloween candy...especially Reese's Peanut Butter cups. Heaven. Happy Halloween!!

It goes without saying that there is an election coming up. Even I, sleep deprived and barely functioning, realize that a presidential election is on the board for next Tuesday. If I hadn't already known it, the girls would have told me, as their first grade classes have been discussing the candidates. Thanks to the pamphlet that came home with them last week, we now know that John McCain likes Mexican food, while Barack Obama likes chili. Well, I like both of those, so I guess I can't use food preferences as my litmus test. Actually, I am not taking this election that lightly. As with every presidential election, I try to think about which person I think will do the best job for the country and for me. I never agree 100% with either of the candidates, and sometimes, I don't agree with either of them very much at all. This time is no different. But like I tell my kids, "Voting is a private matter, and I don't have to tell anyone which lever I'll pull.&

Funny thing happened this past week. Not once, but twice. I was out with the kids at a local eatery (nothing fancy...the kind that serves not-so-healthy chicken and deep-fried potatoes), when a young lady strolls up to us and says, "Are they all yours?" What? I smiled, and nodded, all the while thinking that several kids from a nearby table MUST have latched onto my coat or something. When did having four kids become fodder for, "Are they all yours?" Apparently, four kids will get that reaction because the next day (literally, the next day), Tim and I were out with the kids and again, "Are they all yours?" According to the U.S. Census Bureau (and I would put a link here, but I haven't yet investigated how to do that, and to be honest, just getting this post on here is a feat in and of itself due to time constraints), the number of kids per household is about 2 (give or take a little). Okay, so we are two above that. But what if we were 3 above

Had to throw in a more current picture of Melina. She actually doesn't like this car seat too much anymore, which means we stick around the house quite a bit. She turned 100 days on October 18; we made chocolate chip cookie bars to celebrate. Of course, she didn't actually eat any (I am not that bad of a parent!).

I have decided to take this blog over, so we'll see where it leads us. Do I have time for this? I don't know. Will I post something at least every week? Yes, that I will. Somewhere between doing the laundry, dishes, cooking, nursing, teaching, emailing and sleeping, I will find the time to keep this lovely site more properly updated. Is that a dig at the previous author? Maybe. But anyone that has time to read Fark everyday has time to update a blog once a week so that his little "buckets of sunshine" can be seen by friends and family. I do not claim to be as witty as Timmy, so if you don't feel like coming back, I understand. However, I hope you do. I'll find something nifty for next time. Chris

I have just a short political message (ok, two), that I'd like to see go viral: Of course, my dream ticket would be this:

SCAN0189 Originally uploaded by three beans I've updated the Flickr page with more artwork created by the kids. This picture shows Talia and Zoe (conveniently labelled "T" and "Z") outside with me and the telescope on a dark, starry night. Several of these stars seem to have gone supernova at the same time, so it looks like the three of us are on the verge of a major scientific discovery. I'm so excited that my eyes turned red. The moon is also out, and despite the darkness, the grass is quite clearly green. Amazing.

After every baseball game, the players are responsible for cleaning up the field. Especially rookies. I'm a rookie. We sweep out the dugouts. We rake the dirt along the base-paths. We remove the bases and cover the base posts. We cover the pitcher's mound and home plate area with tarps. We are a grounds-keeping machine . During the post-game clean-up (wow, back-to-back hyphenations) our manager, Terrey, had me get a broom and told me to sweep a circle around home plate. This took all of thirty seconds. "Ok, I'm done," I called out to him. "Keep going, around and around," were his directions. So I did. I kept going in a small circle around and around home plate, in the same direction until I felt so dizzy I couldn't walk straight. Finally, Terrey came over to me, shook his head, and said to make the circles bigger each time. "You mean you want a spiral?" I asked. "Terrey, you have to speak geek to me." "Make a spir

Chris had been feeling a little uncomfortable all day Wednesday, but at 38 and a half weeks pregnant, I'd guess that's the normal way to feel. We'll pick up the story around 11 pm, when contractions were about five minutes apart, but according to Chris, didn't feel like they were contractions of the entire uterus. I have no uterus, so I can only write what she described, and that's how she explained them to me. Oh, and another thing: this post will use the word "uterus," and other words that cause queasiness among beer-swilling men. If this sort of talk upsets you, skip all the words and scroll to the bottom of the post for the baby pictures. But back to the uterus (UTERUS!). I had noticed that the contractions kind of followed the scheme of one big one, and then two smaller ones, all spaced about five minutes apart. I don't really know for certain if this was what was happening; I was just trying to estimate the strength of the contraction by ob

Thursday was the last day of school for the girls. They read, skipped, and sang their way through kindergarten and are ready to tackle first grade. Well, after a three-month vacation, that is. Just for kicks, we'll show the progression of education. Here they are on their first day of preschool: Before leaving for their first day of kindergarten: And finally, here, exiting the bus on their last day of kindergarten: Notice the increase in sophistication apparent in the pictures. Talia somehow managed to be wearing a pair of headphones to give the too-cool-for-school look. The headphones are, to the best of my knowledge, not even hers and we don't know how she wound up with them. I wouldn't put it past her to have won them shooting dice in the back of the classroom. Update: Ok, the headphones are actually hers. I had forgotten that the kids wore these when they worked on the computer at school. Zoe's headphones are tucked away in her backpack.

Aaron's hair was out of control. It wasn't that it was long, it was just, well, a lot . I'm no good at describing it; this is what he looked like. It didn't bother me, but according to Chris, something had to be done (shout-out to Miss Nel son ). Chris had a hair appointment on Saturday. As it happens, the woman who does her hair has two little boys of her own, so she has some experience taking shears to the heads of children while they're bobbing and weaving . When Aaron got on the chair, the hairdresser floated and jabbed with the clippers. By the end she was standing over him as if he were Sonny Liston. Then the hairdresser raised her arms and said, " I am the greatest ." Ok, she didn't, but wouldn't it have been unbelievably awesome if she had?

I really, really shouldn't admit to dreaming up this joke. Watch carefully -- I'm about to do something stupid: Joe: I think my urologist is a pessimist. Bill: What makes you think that? Joe: He told me my bladder is half-empty. Thank you. I'll be here all week. Please be sure to tip the wait-staff generously.

scan0149 Originally uploaded by three beans Little by little, my parents are divesting their house of my junk. Each time they come to visit, they bring a box (or several) of my Hess trucks , baseball cards, books, Matchbox cars , or old school papers. The last time they were here, they brought an overstuffed folder of my schoolwork from kindergarten. I couldn't believe it. These papers were 32 years old! Why hadn't they thrown them away long ago? Here's how it works, from the parental point-of-view. Your precious little snowflake brings home a piece of paper with something that resembles a colorized Rorschach test. You: "Oh, that's a beautiful, um, dinosaur? Playground? Baseball player?" Snowflake: "Daddy, that's our family. This is me, that's you, and there's mommy." You (who didn't know until just now that you had self-tanning-spray-gone-awry-orange skin, lime green eyes, and jet black hair that sticks straight up): "W

Dear readers, as I sit here typing this post, good things are happening in my brain. Happy chemicals are fluttering around, and neurons in activity centers deep inside my brain are tingling. At this point, you may be thinking (and honestly, I wouldn't blame you for it because it doesn't sound like a half-bad idea), "Oh here he goes, with his pitcher of sangria on one side and keyboard on the other, trying to be a modern-day Hunter S. Thompson ." The truth of the matter is that blogging is good for you . Imagine that. Seriously, go ahead and imagine it, because then maybe your brain will release some dopamine, too. Take a moment; I'll be right here. Do you feel better? I knew you would. According to one author of the study, expressive writing is linked to improved sleep. It seems perfectly clear to me, then, that babies and toddlers should be blogging. Babies could be sleeping twelve or thirteen hours straight at nighttime, and their parents wouldn't

No, it's not what you're thinking (unless perhaps you're an environmental biologist). Testudines have nothing to do with Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco, 500 foot home runs, or shriveled things . Opening day for our baseball team was supposed to be Sunday. Sunday was clear and sunny, but not too hot --- a perfect day for baseball. I was getting dressed for the game when the manager called: the game is postponed because there were turtles on the field. It had rained the previous night, and evidently a gaggle, a school, a flock, a herd, a colony, a swarm, a bale of turtles thought the standing water on the field would be a great place to play. A few hours later, Zoe and Talia got the idea into their heads that the turtles were having their own baseball game. One of them said that the game was probably only in the second inning, turtles being very slow creatures and all.

Although nobody has pointed this out to me yet, the past two posts contain no pictures of the wee beasts. This sort of reckless posting puts me dangerously close to alienating my base readership (mom, et cetera). Without delay, I present the basement ! Not long ago, we almost-kinda-sorta finished part of the basement ("A bucket of bleach, some cans of paint, and I'll have this place ship-shape in no time" -- Jacqueline Ogburn from a beloved book ). Many of the kids' toys have taken permanent residence in the basement, but the world-beating toy down there is the inflatable house. Well, it used to be a house. The green and yellow parts that now resemble flaps used to attach to form a roof-like structure. These days it's more like a box, but for simplicity's sake, we'll continue to refer to it as a house. One way to use it is to sit in the house and play (like maybe "playing house," for example), but that mode of operation lacks in both a

Dear readers (and by "readers" I mean "mom"), it's not that I mean to talk about mathematics all the time, it's just that when Aaron takes a handful of pennies, puts them on his Magnadoodle , and draws this, the first thing I think of is graph theory . I'll be the first to point out that this isn't a simple graph because two pennies have more than one line connecting them, but the boy is only three, so let's cut him a bit of slack. Aaron himself, though, claimed it was a constellation. Is he too young for me to tell him about Hedy Lamarr ?

Whence came the baby name obsession? (I don't get to use words like "whence" that often, so just play along and nobody will get hurt.) Seriously: 13.2 million hits for "baby names" on Google? Even the Social Security Administration is getting in on the action. I'm pleased to know that part of my payroll taxes (though I prefer the term " the money I'll never ever see again ") goes toward helping people track the popularity of the name Wilhelmina over the decades. It turns out, in 1884 Wilhelmina peaked at the 215th most popular name for female babies born in the United States and issued Social Security numbers (is that enough caveats for you?). Sadly, the name has not been in the top 1000 for little baby girls since 1954. What does this mean to you, pregnant reader? Well, it means that if you're looking for that rare, perfect name for your baby daughter, that name that you can shout from the mountain-tops: "This is my exceptio

I guess when you're a kid, maybe the best thing about going to visit other kids is the opportunity to play with an entirely new set of toys. On Sunday we went to a party hosted by some new friends who have three young children of their own. Aaron enjoyed the workbench and, as you can see, followed all OSHA regulations and guidelines. However, the big winner of the day, the one toy that the kids were talking about for days and days before the party, was the trampoline. In fact, I think that was the most desired play object for all the kids there. At one point, I counted no fewer than seven children and one adult on the trampoline. (Full disclosure: I was that adult.) Before the kids asked me to hop with them, I managed to get a few pictures. This one is interesting. Like any almost-safe trampoline, there's a safety net. The picture is kind of nice, but all the little hexagons from the netting mess things up. Warning : \begin{geek} I want to try to get rid of them by t

Zoe and Talia have a thing for socks. I suppose it's our fault. When they were babies, we'd put little socks on their little feet with no regard for matching one sock to the other. But hey, you try being a graduate student who's just become a parent to twins and see how high socks are on your list of priorities. Even to this day, we neither match nor fold together any of the kids' socks. Once they're out of the dryer (the socks, not the kids), they all go into a drawer in the kids' bathroom. As a consequence, when they're getting dressed for school, the girls will typically wear mismatched socks. (Yes, fascinating, isn't it? But there's a point --- well, not really, but there is at least a picture.) They are also a sufficiently impressive influence on Aaron that he has developed the same tendencies --- even to the point of wearing one purple and one pink when his sisters do. On Thursday, though, they quite outdid themselves. The girls deci

I'm playing in an adult baseball league this season. It's been just about ten years since I've played hardball, so my goal is to avoid embarrassing myself or my teammates. We had a scrimmage tonight against one of the other teams in our league. The directions to the ball park were along the lines of: Drive north until the highway ends. Follow that road through a few towns. Go past the grain silo, and park on the other side of the street. The air smelled of manure, but we had a baseball diamond, two teams, and an umpire. My first at-bat was in the second inning. We had a runner on, and nobody out. As soon as I walked up to the plate, the umpire sent me back to our dugout because I forgot to put a helmet on. Yeah, that's too many years of slow-pitch softball. Ok, so we'll try again, this time with a helmet on my head. The catcher was kind enough to tell me about a soft spot in the dirt right outside the batters box. If he only knew that I didn't really

Unfortunately, this didn't happen when I was home, but Chris told me all about it. My sister got Aaron a Rubik's Cube for Christmas, and he enjoys messing around with it. The cube was in one of its 4.3 x 10 19 configurations , and, according to Chris, sufficiently randomized. Well, Aaron looked over the cube and then he started twisting. Then he'd stop, look at it a little more, and start twisting again. After six or seven minutes of effort, he had the cube looking like this. He handed the cube to Chris and told her to finish it because he couldn't figure out how to do it himself. I wish I had been there to see the look on her face. She told Aaron that she didn't know how to do it either, so they'd have to wait until I got home. When I got home, they showed me the cube. I took the pictures and then finished it for him. Is my boy a mathematical genius? Could be, but that has nothing to do with nearly solving the cube. Cue up my inner skeptic: the cube