Tag Archives: George

The Stars Aligned…

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Okay – so it’s not the BEST picture of me ever, and my eyes are a tad half mast… But the fact that all of my children are in the picture, smiling and looking at the camera… We’ll that’s just never happened before. I assume that like a solar eclipse, it will be a while before I see the likes of this again. But it gives me some hope for holiday cards in our future.

Here are some others that didn’t quite work out:




And the best part is that it was Easter, so everyone actually looked nice and I hadn’t just arrived home from the gym or not showered yet. Most photo ops seem to occur when I’m not interested in being captured on film.

Here’s a bonus one of me with Eleanor:


I mean – a mother-daughter picture in which we both look nice? Unheard of!

Anyway – I was inspired to make a little effort this weekend since I just finished a book by a very glamorous and lovely lady named Laura Bennett. If you watch Project Runway, you’ll recognize her as one of the Fashion Week finalists who dressed up for the workroom and wore stilettos throughout all of her (count ’em – SIX!) pregnancies. I’ll be posting a review, a short interview AND a giveaway this week – so watch for that. And try don a cute outfit and splash on a little lip gloss next time you’re running out to Target. You’d be surprised at how much better you’ll feel about yourself. Besides -you never know if your kids will agree to pose for a picture. It could happen…

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ELSEWHERE:

On Wishing True…

Cox & Cox

On Style Key West…

Harlequin style

Naps…Shmaps… Part Two

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You would think that after Monday, I’d learn my lesson…

This happened in the playroom at 7:00 p.m. (P.M.!) yesterday.





And I thought they were just playing quietly… Not good – 8:00 p.m. bedtime was a nightmare. But they are pretty cute.

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ELSEWHERE:

On Wishing True…

Sunshine from Annechovie

50 Signature Handbags

Naps…Shmaps…

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We’re not tired!

We don’t need a nap!

We CAAAAAAN’T sleep!

We’re not tired!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.





*Yes, in fact, the table WAS in position for some sliding before they passed out.

Why doesn’t anyone around here ever listen to me….?

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ELSEWHERE:

On Wishing True…

Madelyn Jordan Silk Embroideries

On Style Key West…

Learning to love purple…sort of….

Oh the weather outside is frightful…

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…aaaaand that just about sums it up (we don’t have a fireplace to find delightful – damn 1970s townhouse architects).

Honestly – I do love snow. I do! I love seasons. Really! I’m always the first one to say that I’ll suffer through a couple of freezing, sleeting months if I can experience autumn leaves and pink cherry blossoms and yes – sparkling white snow blanketing the neighborhood. I wouldn’t say that I’m a Winter fanatic, but I find snow lovely and cozy. And the snow we had right before Christmas this year was downright festive.

I really couldn’t imagine living somewhere without seasons.

When I visited Chris’ family in Arizona for the first time and listened to their friends exclaim about not being able to survive our East Coast Winters I thought, “yeah, well you enjoy that ‘but it’s a dry heat‘ holiday season – I’d rather revel in wool sweaters and sip hot cocoa after an invigorating walk through freshly fallen snow.

But that’s easy for me to say since here in DC, we get maybe one or two big snowfalls per year. We’re not usually buried in snow for almost two weeks.

And as I go through photos I’ve taken over the past week, I can feel my attitude changing.

So I present to you a brief travelogue of our journey through the past week’s snow festival:

1/31

Yeah! Snow! Let’s go sledding!



Or perhaps a snowball fight?



Thank you Oliver for being the second Hood child to break a camera. Eleanor – You’re up!

2/5

Can you believe it’s snowing again? And the camera didn’t break – so we can take MORE pictures!




Nice hat.

2/6

When is it going to stop snowing? Our children are disappearing into the drifts…



2/7

All I have to say is Winter Wonderland. Behold the majesty.




And behold my son who can’t feel the cold. Actually, he can feel the cold – he just has his priorities.




2/10

The snow is starting to get old…yet Oliver still insists on going outside fifty times a day (okay – more like five but when you’re slowly going insane from not being able to leave your house, you start to exaggerate). Where is everyone else anyway?

Eleanor is sick


And cultivating some really crazy bedhead


Chris is cooking (and apparently drinking…)


Kate is taking pictures since she doesn’t like to have her unshowered in pajamas look documented, and George is melting down from cabin fever.


2/11

Giant icicles have started falling from the roofs.


Where are the news reports about widespread impalings?

2/12

Today the furnace stopped working. Yeah – more sweaters! So festive…

2/13

The furnace has been fixed, but now the dining room lights and kitchen outlets aren’t working. Weather related? Or the result of Chris’ roiling psychic energy?

2/15


Losing track of the days…it’s started snowing again…I’d like to say that I’m not baking yet another batch of cookies because of the weight I’ve gained while house bound. But the truth is, I’ve run out of chocolate chips.

Day 13 of Snow Prison: We have come to accept that help is not coming. Survival now rests on our own shoulders. Provisions are running out and morale is low. Straws were drawn for a volunteer to venture out in search of food. As the snow falls steadily and the temperatures drop, we try not to wonder when it will end. The waiting is the hardest. But that is all that is left for us now. To wait. And hope.

To all of my other snowbound comrades: Stay warm!

To all of you smirky warm weather residents: Suck it!

Continuing to Cultivate Genius

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The other week I posted some pictures of my son, Oliver’s invention: a slide made from the playroom coffee table placed at an angle, along with a large stuffed animal “sled.” Simple. Safe (hey – no one got hurt!). Brilliant.

And now my younger son, George has astounded me with yet ANOTHER new invention made from household items.

[In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that he probably got this idea from seeing me dislodge a bead from a straw (yes – most of my daily accomplishments now run along those lines…) But regardless, his entrepreneurial spirit can’t be denied.]


So tell me – what would you make with a small, blue orange juice cap and a vacuum cleaner attachment?


An awesome blow gun of course!

AND an extra long one:



Here it is in action:




Even I had to try it out:

I know – I’m pretty gorgeous right? Sadly, I’ve never been one of those people who comes back from the gym glowing… And seriously – it couldn’t have occurred to me to splash on a little makeup before taking those pictures?


Wait – why do you suddenly bring up Botox? Back to the invention…

As usual, my pictures just don’t do justice to the subject. So I took a video:

OUCH! That hurt. But don’t blame the invention – no injuries were sustained during actual blow gun activity. (And how about that dirty wall? Yikes! Time to do some cleaning…)

Hours of fun! Can’t wait to see what they come up with next. Eleanor doesn’t show much interest in this area, but you never know what she might do with some glitter and a few My Little Ponies. Stay tuned…

Rookie Mistakes, Crazy Talk and Being For-dick-a-less

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Okay. So I’ve been a mom for over four years now. Pushing five. And I’m pushing forty myself. I babysat my ass off when I was a teenager (and much later into my twenties than is considered normal). And I actually remember quite a lot about about being a kid myself.

Yet – none of that seems to matter. I still make rookies mistakes, I hear myself spouting bizarre statements with earnest sincerity, and on occassion, I act like a complete tool. All regarding my children of course (shut up Chris).




I’ve had some real winners lately, so I thought I’d post a random sampling today.

First the rookie mistakes. All of that experience with small children under my belt, and I still:

Leave a full and OPEN bottle of bubble bath sitting next to the tub while I duck out to grab the shampoo.


Buy bath markers (Why do I keep doing this? It’s like I have amnesia every time I browse the bath aisle at Target, “OH bath markers – that looks like fun!” sigh)

Leave the house without diapers even though my three year old twins are only 50% potty trained.

Leave an open jar of peanut butter on the counter while I run downstairs to switch the laundry.

Assume that if I don’t hear a peep from the kids for a long period of time they are playing nicely, and enjoy the little break from the chaos (because we all know what I usually find when I go looking for them…)


Leave an open jar of Vaseline on the counter while I run downstairs to switch the laundry.

Leave an uncapped tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter while I run downstairs to switch the laundry.

(I also have amnesia about the kids getting into everything that should be far out of their reach. And I do a lot of laundry.)

Then there are the crazy sounding things I say without a hint of irony:

Hmmm. That’s strange…I can only think of one recent one. Maybe it’s like that amnesia thing above and I’m just saying the same crazy thing over and over without realizing that I’ve said it before. Anyway – here it is:

We NEVER pee on people.

Hold on…I just remembered a couple more:

[When one of them wanted to help me bake cookies] “Okay – you can help…but you have to wear underwear. It’s like – my only cooking rule.“

[George loves to play in our sliding door closets] “Come on George! It’s time to go. No more playing in the closet – we have to leave. No – I’m serious – it’s time. Get out of the closet now. I said now. I said come OUT of the closet George!“

As for acting like a complete lunatic…I think my personal best was a debacle at nap time last month.

First, I should explain that George and Eleanor still need their nap. They are complete monsters (I mean more than usual) when they skip it.


But they went through a phase of refusing to settle down and sleep. During that time, they would just play in their room.

This would have been fine if they played quietly and acheived some modicum of “rest.” But they didn’t. Whatever I heard going on one level up sounded like a scene from Fight Club. They literally shook the house with their…whatever it was they did.

And the worst part was that what they were doing seemed to involve taking off all of their clothes, including their diapers. And having accidents. On the floor. Like puppies.

I seriously thought I was going to lose my mind, and eventually, I kind of did.

I decided it was time to lay down the law – no more Mr. Nice Guy – the madness would end.

So you can imagine how well that went.

First, I told them very calmly and quietly that if I heard one more sound from their room, they would be in A LOT of trouble. And they were to keep their diapers ON. If I came upstairs to find naked children and wet patches on the carpet, there would be spankings (a punishment I rarely enforce but often threaten).

They just laughed at me.

I closed the door, thinking “yeah – we’ll see who is laughing the next time I’m up here…“

Minutes later when I felt the first sonic boom, I was up the stairs and in their room, ready to show them who was boss. I yelled and fumed and made my scariest face possible. All while re-attaching diaper tabs.

I then gave them “one more chance” (because I’m a soft touch) and promised spankings the next time I had to come upstairs.

They just laughed at me.

And of course it was less than 10 minutes before I returned for a little demonstration of tough love. THIS time it was no more Mr. Nice Guy.

Which ended up being true when I saw how they had ripped apart the room. Their crib mattresses (on the floor as we still need to get them toddler beds) were over turned and sheets and blankets lay in heaps. The CD I had put on was skipping and the lamp was on its side. And of course, they were naked.

They saw my fury – and they just laughed at me.

I very calmly and quietly told them that it was time for spankings. And each of them got one very hard smack on their bare bottom. Unheard of from their previously gentle and soft spoken mother.

There was howling and unintelligible toddler cursing as I re-diapered and dressed them. But by the time I made my way back out of the room, I heard something that made my blood boil.

They were laughing at me.

Knowing that you should never approach a child in such a rage, I closed the door and waited until I felt that rolling boil return to a slow simmer. Then finally when I thought it was at a safe room temperature, I returned to the devil spawn.

I found them gleefully trying to rip curtains off the window. And that’s when the whoop ass can was opened. I didn’t spank anyone, but I raged and bellowed and pulled every single object out of that room.

First removed the entire curtain rod and tossed it into the the hall. Then I repeated the process with every book and toy I could find. Then came the sheets and blankets. Then the mattresses.

The twins watched in silent astonishment as I dragged the table, lamp and CD player out as well, and then finally pulled a clock off the wall.

I left the room completely bare (not too difficult of a feat since it’s a tiny room without space for a dresser – but still).

Then I walked out, leaving them in their diapers to either sleep or entertain themselves for the next hour.

This time they did not laugh.

In fact, they cried for a long time, and it took all of my willpower not to go to them. Instead I waited until they fell silent. Then I crept back in and put blankets over their sleeping potato bug bodies.

And I felt like a terrible mother.

Later when they woke up with no sign of resentment or remorse, they watched as I put their room back to rights. They commented on the various items and showed me where to put them.

When I put the clock back up on the wall, George said, “mommy throw the clock?“

And I had to kind of laugh at myself. I mean – what purpose did that serve anyway? I punished them by denying them their clock? Ridiculous.

So I said as much: “Yes George, that was ridiculous. I won’t take down the clock again.“

George repeated “For-dick-a-less?” And a new Hood family word was born. Because they often refer to things as being for-dick-a-less.

“But what about the diapers?” you ask. “Do they still take them off at nap time?“

No – they don’t. But it took one more outrageous act to stop that practice:


For-dick-a-less…but effective.

One Small Step for Man, One Giant Leap for a Family Pathologically Unable to Take a Decent Group Picture

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Last year, I featured some pictures from a failed holiday card photo shoot. It was attempted right before we left for holiday cocktails at our neighbors’ house.

This year on New Year’s Eve, history repeated itself.

I looked at my children all dressed up (forget about dressed up – they were all DRESSED!) and thought, “okay – it’s go time.“

I herded everyone over to the Christmas tree, frantically kicking shoes, toys and unidentified objects out of the shot, and then proceeded to ask, cajole, bribe and threaten them to “stand still and look at me!“

It was a complete disaster as usual…











…but I was able to get ONE semi-decent picture of them:


Sadly, I had to make them sit – so the backdrop is the not-so-prime real estate at the bottom of the Christmas tree. Very few ornaments are featured there, and they’re all ones that I don’t mind losing to a stray karate kick or airborne toy.

And to add insult to injury, Eleanor looks like she has a Celtic cross growing out of her head (ornament courtesy of a wedding we attended in 2001 – continued best wishes to you, Cathleen and Sean!) Her princess crown from Target helps, but I may have to attempt some Photoshop editing.

All in all, I’m thrilled and expect to see even more improvement over the 2010 holidays. Who knows – maybe we’ll actually send out a holiday card. A girl can dream…

Who Do I Want to Be in 2010?

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I’ve never been one to make New Year’s resolutions. The ones I would make, I do make every day. “I’ll start the diet tomorrow…I really have to stop yelling so much around the kids…I need to turn off the computer and spend more time building block towers…“

And none of them are easy.

But the eve of the new year always makes me a little introspective, as any ending-beginning does. So I find myself thinking about the kind of life I want to have and the kind of person I want to be.

When my daughter was born, it was the end of only worrying about little boys and their wants and needs. And it was the beginning of my tenure as a role model for what a woman should be.

In fact, the day we found out that one of our twins would be a girl, I told my husband, “well, you’ll never hear me complaining about being fat anymore.” When he asked what that had to do with anything, I explained that I intended for my daughter to grow up in a house where women spent more time developing healthy eating and exercise habits than bemoaning the unfortunate body type that a cruel fate had given them. While I couldn’t shield my daughter from the inevitable insecurities and poor body image issues so integral to the experience of a teenage girl, I could at the very least do away with that attitude at home.

I said that I wanted her to be too busy being and doing and achieving things to worry about the circumference of her 15 year old thighs.

Then a light of recognition flared in my husbands now glassy eyed expression and he said, “oh yeah – I totally agree. We’ll get her involved in sports as early as possible.“

Now that Eleanor is three, we can start thinking about what sports she might enjoy, but I’d like to think that my endeavors to refrain from the fat talk have contributed to the groundwork for her positive future self image.

And really, as they’ve gotten older, I’ve made many changes in my own life in an effort to be exemplify the qualities that I’d like my children to have.

A pretty major one has been my concerted effort to stop taking myself too seriously. It’s a trait that runs deep in my family, this tendency to grow a stick up our posterior every time we are the butt (pun totally intended) of a joke or are made to feel ridiculous in any way. In general, I have a very good sense of humor and can even laugh about embarrassments from the past. But in the heat of the cheek flaming moment, I do tend to bristle. I don’t like to feel silly.

This is a struggle. But when I see my very intense three year old son rigid with fury, I double my efforts. I want my kids to be more light-hearted than I was. Where I’m just learning to get over myself already, I want them to do that as a matter of course.

And like all parents, we make the daily attempt to not use bad language, to show good manners and to be kind to others.

We do pretty well with the swear words, though we’re far from perfect. Last week when I started to explain who “the baby Jesus” was, my four year old proudly exclaimed, “Jesus Christ!” Like, “oh yeah. I know that guy…you always talk about him when you’re pissed off at us…” Awesome.

It was surprisingly easy to institute please and thank you, but manners and consideration will always be difficult concepts for little guys. With three kids who have only just barely shed their toddler status, our house is a place where “excuse me” means “get out of my way” and “share” means “gimmie that!“

So I think I’m in a constant state of resolving to be better. And I don’t think I need a new calendar year as motivation.

But.

I do look back in the process of looking forward, and I do think about what I’d like to change. While we make choices every day, it’s nice to have a benchmark – an official day to take stock.

When I think about who I want to be in 2010, I think about some of the choices I’ve made. The ones think I’ve made well and the ones I’d like to rethink. And of course, the new ones that come with age and experience.

Now that I’m a mother, so many of my choices are influenced by my children. I want to be a better person for them. I want to be comfortable and confident in my own skin. I want to have a good sense of humor – even when it is at my own expense. And I want to put kindness and manners before principles and justice. I think that all of this will benefit them as they watch me navigate a life that will be their future.

And deciding who it is that I want to be comes down to these choices.

So when my children pull all of the sheets out of the linen closet making a huge mess for me to clean up, I’ll choose to let the anger go let them play “ghosts.” When I feel bad about the way I look, I’ll choose to get over it and take everyone to the park. And when I feel like tossing a defiant three year old into their room for the rest of the century, I’ll choose to admire their forays into learning to make their own choices.

I’ll always choose to appreciate each day I spend with them.

These are my choices to make. And I will choose well.

I choose happiness. I choose joy and laughter. I choose forgiveness and gratitude. I choose kindness and understanding. I choose love.

And I choose myself.

I will prioritize my life and how I live it. Because by choosing to be a better me, I’m choosing them – my children. And doing my best for them is the most important choice I’ll ever have to make.