Nacho Dog Tacos

I know, I know.  You're probably freaking out a little right now and thinking, "Is this a post on some kind of super weird new dinner recipe?"  No. Nacho dog tacos.  That's Kris's transliteration of Natchitoches, a little city south of here which is actually and nonsensically pronounced like Nack-a-dish.  Or Natchodogtacos.  Whatever you prefer. 

Anyway. We've been hearing about Natchitoches (town of Steel Magnolias fame) ever since we moved here and we finally went down to see it a couple of weeks ago.  Worth the drive for sure!  We had lunch (meat pies, don't ya know?) at a totally sketchy looking but delicious diner in the gorgeous historic district and then went to see some old plantations.  Par for my typical course, I didn't take any pictures of us.  But you're used to our ugly mugs anyway, right?  So relax and enjoy some scenery from Melrose Plantation...

Cows (those tiny black specs back yonder) grazing in the pecan orchard.  That, my friends, is a lot of nuts!

Buildings and grounds.  I can't actually tell you about any of them because we were too cheap to pay for the tour.  (Insert here whatever you would like to think about an old plantation in the deep South.)

Pretty though, right? Ignore the giant dumpster in the background.  Darn modern nuisance!

It's a funny feeling for me, visiting these types of places.  With their natural beauty and abhorrent antecedents they carry a strange magnetism that's at once engrossing and repulsive.  I have to detach myself a little and remember just to observe and let be, instead of saddling up on my high horse next to Sherman and marching straight to the sea.  The South is so easy to judge. 

Is slavery evil?  No question.  Of course.  But that's a pretty easy thing to say as an educated white lady in 2014.  Pretty easy thing to say as a black HUMAN BEING being worked like an animal in 1850 too, I guess.  Somehow it wasn't an easy thing to say at all for the white slaveholders.  (Somehow?  Filthy lucre.  Right?  But greedy rich people are still people too...)  I certainly can't give the Antebellum White South a pass, but I do feel some small sense of compassion for the individuals who participated in the slave system.  They weren't any better than their time.  I'm sure someday I'll pay the price for all of the ways in which I am not better than mine.     

Pretty heavy stuff for a post titled "Nacho Dog Tacos", huh?  Just keeping you on your toes!

Potty Training: The No-Method Method

*This post is primarily because I don't want to forget what we did and how it all happened, so I'll be prepared when Jude arrives at the magic age.  Skip away, friends!  I won't blame you. :)

Eden being our first kid, I didn't even know where to start the potty training party.  So I talked to a lot of friends and relatives, did the usual Google searches, and got familiar with every sticker chart-marshmallow treats-tinkle target- new undies trick in the potty-training playbook.  (I should add here that if you have used any of those with your kids or plan to in the future, more power to you!  No judgment here.  I really believe that every parent has to do whatever works best for their kid and keeps them sanest.  I'm sure your happy poopers are wonderful children with bright futures.  Good job, you!) I should also confess to sometimes being mighty tempted to throw in the towel and join the bribery brigade.  But I just couldn't do it. I mean here was my amazing daughter, the one who learned to breathe and swallow and smile and coo and roll over and crawl and walk and talk for no reason other than because she wanted to, because she was driven to.  How could I look into those trusting eyes and announce the end of learning things because she's motivated to and the beginning of learning things because I'll give her a pony at the end?  I couldn't.  So we chucked all of the "potty train your kid in three days!" rules out the window and followed Eden's lead.  For a year.  Here's how it all shook down.

18 months
We took Eden on observational trips to the potty frequently.  Gross?  Sure.  But everybody poops.  Sometime during this month she started sitting on the potty occasionally too and every now and then something came out.  We thought we were on the verge of total success.  We were not.

19 months-24 months
We bought a cushy tushy and a step stool.  They don't make cloth potty training undies or regular undies for people who are not yet two years and who are actually the size of a nine month old, so I bought the 2T size and tailored them.  This was a waste.  She was interested in the potty, but didn't actually have the bowel control yet to move to undies.  We checked out potty books from the library (I know...I just had to force my mind not to go to wherever those books had been before) and Eden loved reading them.  She definitely understood by now exactly what the potty was for.

24 months-29 months
We took a break from all things potty during the six weeks of insanity known as our move and Jude's arrival.  Along with moving into a twin sized bed, Eden had simply had enough changes.  To jump start her again, we bought several potty books and spent a lot of time with her sitting on the potty just to read them.  It was also right about then that we started letting Eden spend all of her home time naked.  Hey, it was a bajillionty degrees and the child is a born nudist.  Why fight it?  Funny thing was that if Eden was wearing a diaper, she only used the potty about half the time.  If she was naked?  She used the potty 100% of the time and only had one accident in these several months.  So by this time she had the bowel control...it was all about making the decision that the potty was better than the convenience of diapers.  It was also hard for her to grasp the difference between diapers and undies.  She almost always peed in the undies.  We tried a couple of very short trips out of the house in undies and these were successful.  But it just wasn't quite time yet to kick diapers. Occasionally she would rebel against the potty entirely and refuse to use it at all for a week or so at a time.  I think part of that was because Jude wears diapers and she wanted to hold on to being a baby just a little bit longer.

30 months-32 months
After taking another potty training hiatus because of our trip West, we got back to it again.  This time (at a friend's recommendation) we started emphasizing keeping undies dry instead of focusing on using the potty.  So we would make her wear undies at home and often ask her, "Eden, are your undies dry?  Remember not to pee in undies!"  This finally clicked. One magical day, she simply stopped asking to wear a diaper and we have been in undies exclusively (during the day...we'll get to the night sometime) for almost three months now.  She's only had two accidents during that time, and one of them was because she asked to use the potty but we were in the car and it took us twenty minutes to find one (which she then used). 

So there you go.  I know that working on potty training for a YEAR sounds like a lot less fun than doing it all in three days, but we are really happy with how it has turned out for Eden.  I love that she figured it out in her own time and not because we pressured her or disapproved of her for doing what came naturally.  I also think it wouldn't have taken quite so long without all of the disruptions we've had this year, but that's another story.  It feels like we didn't ditch the diapers until Eden had a very solid grasp on it all both conceptually and physically, which has resulted in very few accidents and skirted around the frustration (for her and us) which goes with pee and poop in the wrong places.  I hope that we are able to follow a similar pattern with Jude, but I know that every kid is different.  At any rate, we are thrilled for this milestone in our little girl's life.  What an almost-preschooler!         

3/4

I can't get over the fact that this little dude only has three months until his birthday.  Three months.  He's just getting so old! And cute, if I may say so.

 

Jude is cruising along the milestone chart pretty darn well for a preemie.  He babbles and mimics us a lot now and has moved on to a mostly finger foods diet.  Some of his favorites include banana, black beans, mandarin oranges, peas, bread, strawberries, scrambled eggs, and graham crackers.  He army crawls everywhere these days and loves chasing the broom if I happen to be sweeping. 

He's almost always in motion and happy.  His happy is just so different from Eden's.  Whereas hers is constantly on the verge of delighted shrieks and dance moves, Jude's happy is a quiet, calm contentment. What a sweetie. (This is true of all times except during diaper change...then he is a stubborn, opinionated, shrieking banshee who views being pinned on his back as the cruelest torture.)
 

Jude loves Kris and I and is a particularly good snuggle bug.  He's pretty crazy about Hunter too, but Eden is unquestionably the apple of those dark brown eyes.  The two of them really play quite well together and often get into giggle fits.  I am enjoying this particular trait while it lasts :). 

We love you, Handsome Man!

Mardi Gras 2014

Like all good Louisianans, we celebrated Mardi Gras this year.  Or at least we celebrated it as well as good Mormons can, which is to say that we went to the parade and hung out in the designated family-friendly section.  I won't lie:  It was awesome! The tailgating began sometime around noon and the actual parade (which follows a six mile route and lasts for 2-1/2 hours) arrived at our location at about 5:30.    

Mardi Gras parades are thrown by "krewes," which were originally secret societies whose main purpose seems to have been to outdo each other at the next parade. Most of the big krewes are still very selective and only allow worthy relatives and friends of members to join, by invitation only (natch!).  As you can see, our parade was put on by the mighty Centaur. 

My biggest regret is in not taking pictures of the tailgating scene.  These people are serious about their Mardi gras parties.  So serious that many of them hire companies to haul in their own private tote-a-pots (aka port-a-potties) for the day so that they don't have to share with any of the lesser people.  One beleaguered guardian of a private privy condescended to allow Eden in when her potty-trained bladder nearly got the best of her.  Bless you, private privy woman.  Bless you! 



As you can see in the background, the floats were pretty big, and some of them incredibly nice.  As a friend remarked, other floats were nothing more or less than giant roving bead dispensaries. There were forty floats in all and a myriad of high school marching bands, drill teams, a crew of belly dancers (all grandmas...), live rock and country bands, fire trucks, etc. to boot. Eden LOVED it.  As each one passed she danced to the music and shouted, "Good job, man!  Good job, lady!  It's so pretty!"

This may be why she ended the night with fifty pretty necklaces and a passel of plastic cups and frisbees.  What a lucky kid!  Here are a few more random pictures*.

We had a great time.  I'm still not sure what's so exhilarating about standing around begging for beads, but I think these Louisianans are on to something.  Although, may I say, very little was on them.  Indeed, I think I may remark that I've never seen quite so many people wearing quite so little over such abundant bodies and doing so with such incredible confidence and ease.  Oh, Mardi gras.  Bring on the King Cake!



*The nice pictures in this post were taken by the friend who invited us to join her tailgating party.  Thanks, Jaque!  Pardon the cell pics, dear readers, it's what I've come to.

Awful Mom/Awesome Mom

I am Awesome Mom.

I am Awful Mom.

I switch back and forth faster than Clark Kent in a phone booth.

Eden is playing happily in the back yard and Jude is giggling at me.  Awesome Mom.  Jude has been wearing those same pajamas for two days.  Not two nights.  Two days.  Forty-eight hours.  Eden's hair looks like something even a less fastidious squirrel wouldn't dream of sleeping in.  Awful Mom.  Jude chows like a champ and Eden begs to eat plain spinach.  Awesome Mom.  Eden is crying because her lunch isn't ready yet.  Jude is crying because he needs changed and fed and a nap and I just didn't time this all very well.  Awful Mom.  And on and on.  I'd say it all washes out to the fact that I am normal.  Right?  Right.

May I share with you one of those precious moments when I most feel like Awesome Mom? It's when I watch Eden mother her baby doll.  Her usual play sounds a lot like this:

"Baby, why you crying?  It's ok.  You be alright.  I here now."

Kisses. Lots of hugs and kisses.

"Baby, you need to use the potty?  Memember keep undies dry.  You can do it!  I help you."

More hugs.  More kisses.

"Baby, I so sad.  You need go time out, ok? Not nice to hit mama. I come back in a minute."

Reassuring hugs and kisses.

"Baby, you my best girl.  I love you."

Hugs.  Kisses. 

That's me.  The hugging, kissing, reassuring one.  I'm not watching Eden play.  I'm viewing her manifestation of me.  Sure, sure, someday she will be old enough to look back at pictures and think, "Mom, come on!  Why is my hair so crazy and my face so dirty?!"  For now, she sees only one thing: That she is completely loved.  Awful Mom be gone. I am Awesome Mom.

Sometimes I think I might be doing this right.

A Recently Rediscovered Favorite Poem

Evening

Slowly now the evening changes his garments
held for him by a rim of ancient trees;
you gaze: and the landscape divides and leaves you,
one sinking and one rising toward the sky.

And you are left, to none belonging wholly,
not so dark as a silent house, nor quite
so surely pledged unto eternity
as that which grows to star and climbs the night.

To you is left (unspeakably confused)
your life, gigantic, ripening, full of fears,
so that it, now hemmed in, now grasping all
is changed in you by turns to stone and stars.

--Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by C.F. MacIntyre

Finger Painting

I sometimes take decent pictures.  Decent.  Not awesome, not awe-inspiring, but decent.  The trouble is that photography is tricky business requiring mastery of a decent camera, an artistic eye, and several elements like lighting.  Shall I tell you what sabotaged the lighting in these photos?  My messy kitchen.  Sure, I could have moved Eden to the other side of the table and shot her without the back lighting. But then you all would know about the piled up dishes and various clutter.  Call this a strategic failure.  Oops.  I told you about the mess anyway.  D'oh!

Anyway, we had a ton of fun finger painting this week. Eden was so excited!
 

It occurred to me about part way through that our first finger painting adventure was just over a year ago.  It's incredible how much this girl has changed! 

Back then she didn't even know how to call me Mama.  Now she's a sentence slinging six-shooter who narrates everything we do all day long.  She's nearly potty trained (expect a post on that soon...I know you'll wait with bated breath!).  She's a big sister.  Her hair is so long!
 

And her eyes were definitely blue a year ago.  Can anyone tell me what color they are now, please?  It's driving me nuts.  Would you still call that blue?  Green?  Gray?  Is it that hazel thing of which people speak? I need answers, people!

Eden also knows all of her colors now.  It was so fun to mix them with her and help her begin to see how they change.  She was so proud to show her masterpieces to Daddy that night. 

In case you're worried that Jude was left out of all of the fun, here's what he was doing while I was occupied.  Yep, he worked his way over to the magazine basket, emptied it, ate The Friend Magazine, caught up on the news from the Huntsman School of Business, and otherwise caused trouble.  Do all babies eat magazines or does that somehow just run in our family?  Cute boy.  He's not crawling yet, but Jude's an excellent creeper and one tough little dude.  He rocks back and forth on his hands and knees a lot these days and even spends some time in full on push-up position.  Insane. 

So that's that.  I love these two cute kids!