Blah Blah Babycakes

Blah Blah Sewagecakes

As the cleaning crew descended the stairs equipped with masks, boots and gloves, to clean up the sewage that swamped my basement, I tried to put the image out of my head of Henry splashing around barefoot in the mystery puddles last week, as Nick vacuumed up the water and I tested different theories of what could possibly be leaking. 

I was sure that it was the dishwasher.  I conducted several very scientific experiments.  It HAD to be the dishwasher.

It didn't occur to me for even a second that it was sewer water.  The realization was horrifying, but not so much as finding out about the sewer rats that are now escaping from the holes in our collapsed main and up into our yard. 

When the man from Minneapolis Public Works came to poison the rat holes that litter my lawn, he asked me if I'd seen any rats in the house yet. (Yet??)  I started laughing hysterically and told him that he shouldn't make jokes like that. Especially to a woman whose husband is currently out of the country. Rat-Poison Man made a face that suggested he wasn't kidding and then warned me to look in the toilet before I sit down.

Last night I stacked heavy books on all the toilets and slept with a ski pole. 

Sometime next week, this terrible, disgusting mess will be behind us.  Until then, picture me heavily medicated and armed with sporting equipment.

I Do Attract To Me That Which Occurs

It's never a good idea to wish things out loud unless you are prepared for them to actually happen.  Sometimes I forget that the universe is listening and how maybe the words and thoughts I project could potentially manifest in some form if I'm not careful.

After I shouted to several people a few weeks ago about how I wanted to live in a hotel and how wonderful it would be to be Eloise at the Plaza I should have started packing my bags...

We are on day four (and counting) of being homeless, after our main sewer line collapsed on Friday night and left us without indoor plumbing--a luxury to many, in parts of the world, but a necessity for me and my family--and a basement full of sewage.

Henry and I are at the house waiting for various plumbers and other expensive tradesman. I'm still trying to potty train Henry, so we've made many covert trips to local establishments to use the bathroom, while trying NOT to wish this money pit of a house would burn to the ground.

I hope the universe doesn't read my blog.

Pineapple Cinnamon Popsicles

In a desperate attempt to ward off scurvy and get a fruit serving in Henry's diet, I made these delicious frozen pops with little hope that he would actually eat them.  To my surprise he ate three in a row.  A yummy and nutritious way to stay cool this summer.

Pineapple Cinnamon Fruit Pops
3 cups of pineapple chunks
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup fresh orange juice.
Dash of salt

Combine the fruit,cinnamon, juice, and salt in a blender on high for 30 seconds, until smooth. Pour into Popsicle molds and freeze for six hours.

 
Henry and the Popsicle

_{Recipe published in Body + Soul Magazine June 2008}

Home

We survived our East Coast tour only to return home and have a huge, four-family garage sale for three-days that almost killed me.  Sitting in a dirty garage selling junk to your neighbors might sound like a fantastic time, but it's a lot of hard work. I'm at the level of exhaustion where you can't really sleep, because you're too wound up from all the caffeine you had to drink in order to stay awake.  I won't complain too much though, because I made some cash money at the sale and I had a fabulous vacation. 

Like the President and Vice President, Nick and I took separate flights and trains on our trip, because he had to actually work in New York and Henry and I could afford to travel more leisurely.  Ever the experienced flyer, Henry surprised me, as I was fumbling for my clear bag of 3oz liquids, by taking off his own shoes, placing them in the bin and sending them, along with Smelly Cow, through the x-ray machine. He's quite grown up and a total pleasure to travel with on my own. He understands that he can't turn on his DVD player until cruising altitude and wouldn't dream of kicking the seat in front of him.  I can't help but brag about my little tourist.

And he finally understands that New York is a city, not a hotel.  A city where you fold your pizza.

So after I taught Henry the proper way to eat a slice, buy a metrocard and hail a taxi, we found out that we won't be moving back to New York this summer after all.  Had I mentioned that we might?  I think I hinted at it, but it looks like we get to stay in Minneapolis for a bit longer or maybe even forever.  I just don't know.

I'll Show You Mine

To pass the time at my grandmother's house, when I was young, I used to read her stacks of Reader's Digest and my favorite part was the Out of The Mouth of Babes section, where people would submit funny or embarrassing things they overhead children say. 

I found the brutal honesty and innocent candor of a child hilarious and I'm now thrilled to have my very own little mouth who shouts out inappropriate things in front of strangers. Rarely am I embarrassed, as I'm usually taking notes so I can submit the anecdote to Reader's Digest. (I don't know, does that column or even RD even exist anymore?)  Then this afternoon I felt some of that hot embarrassment that can be brought on by your child's words. During a routine pediatric urology appointment a very attractive couple along with their five-year old daughter walked into the waiting room.  They sat next to us and the little girl immediately began to interrogate Henry. 

"What's your name?"

"How old are you?"

"I'm here to say hello to Dr. Anderson, are you here to say hello to Dr. Anderson too?" 

And because I had briefed Henry on exactly what this doctor's appointment would entail, he answered her truthfully, "No, I'm here because the doctor needs to look at my penis".

With a bright, red face I looked at the little girl's (shockingly handsome) dad and muttered something about being terribly sorry and how I try to give the facts and OMG, my son just talked about his penis in front of your little princess...I am SO sorry. "It's okay", he assured me and said with a smile, "The penis is a beautiful thing."  (??!!??)

And thankfully at that moment the nurse called Henry's name.

Posted from my blackberry

"Too Excited To Poop"

Writing about Henry's potty training isn't on my list of acceptable topics, but this trip fell directly in the middle of an aggressive potty training approach and I have to warn other mothers that should you find yourself in a similar situation it may be wise to abandon mission until you are in the safety of your own home and near a washer/dryer unit.

Along with several tubes of lipgloss, in my handbag there are rubber gloves, plastic bags, extra pants, extra underwear and pre-written notes of apology for anyone or anything that Henry might pee on.  So far so good, apart from one incident at an Italian restaurant that had us scurrying out the door, heads hung in shame. By the time we get back to Minneapolis Henry may be a full-time user of the toilet. That is, if he's not still "too excited to poop".

On the Amtrak heading back to NYC.

Posted from my blackberry.

Happy Mother's Day

We are celebrting with the lobsters in Newport,
Rhode Island. It's a beautiful day and I wish all my mom friends peace and love on this most lovely of Hallmark's holidays.

Posted from my blackberry.

Planes, Trains and Taxis

Henry and I are taking our act on the road.

We are waiting for a cab to take us to the airport to begin our east coast tour.  New York, Rhode Island and back to New York again. Henry is very excited even though he still thinks that New York City is just a fancy hotel...    Update: flight delayed. Having picnic on airport floor.  

Posted from my blackberry.

Weekend in Chicago

Arrivals, Thunderstorms, Chinese Medicine, Retail Therapy, Fusion, Dog, Walks, Charlie Trotter, Champagne, Photographs, Duvets, Allergies, Chocolate Sea Salt Cookies, El Train, Departures.

Happy May Day

We attended the 34th annual May Day Parade in Powderhorn Park on Sunday.  It's a hippie parade organized by, In The Heart of The Beast Theatre. The theme this year was "A New Bridge".  The puppets were impressive, brightly colored and huge.  The artistic and political expression was a little dark at first, but ended in hope and celebration.  My friend Masami took a bunch of great parade photos.

Henry just wanted to know what kind of a parade doesn't have candy??

Can you see the disappointment?

I Will Remember You.

I have a pretty lousy memory.  My friend from high school can recount conversations we had in the 9th grade, but I can barely remember who I went to the prom with.  Quite the opposite is Henry and his steel trap of memory and facts.  At times it frightens me.

I thought I was safe for several more years, as I certainly have very few memories before I was six.  I don't know a lot about children, so maybe crazy, good memory is just something kids have, but I'm continually shocked by the details Henry retains.  Give him your grocery list and he'll recite it for you as you're going down the aisles.

After school yesterday, the lady in the parking garage handed Henry a smartie.  Henry looked at it and said, "I ate one of these at the parade, last night".  (Everything in his life happened "Last Night".) He had, in fact, eaten one, almost a year ago at a 4th of July parade.  I'm like, "dude, you were two and a half?!" I asked him to tell me more about the parade and he listed the people that were there, what he ate and that he had to go to bed before the fireworks started.

He can point out every fast food restaurant he's ever been to and tell you the exact toy he received in the Happy Meal. And now that I think about it, he can tell you who gave him pretty much every toy and book that's in his playroom and the holiday on which it was given. 

We went to a Doodlebops concert a few weeks ago and Henry reminded me that he went 'last night" with his grandpa and daddy. This was a year ago, he could barely speak then, but he sure was paying attention to stuff.  Perhaps I should start locking the bathroom door.  I'd feel terrible if he had to remember what I look like naked.