Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Patch Job

When we took Morgan to pick pumpkins last year, it was on a whim.  It was almost dark and we had to use the headlights on our car to see what the hell we were doing. We ended up spending $19 on a bunch of random gourds and some Indian corn, half of which had been eaten by mice.  I was not going to make the same mistake twice. We set out right after dinner; David actually took this picture out of a moving car as evidence we left while there was still light - not too shabby, huh?

But when we got there, I immediately realized we'd screwed up again. Although there was plenty of light left in the day, there wasn't a single pumpkin any bigger than a grapefruit. Total fail.

So we tried to make the most of it.  I am not sure why anyone feels compelled to stick their faces through these tiny little holes and pretend their heads are attached to those little particle board bodies, but we got right in line with everyone else. Frankly, I think David looks like someone is poking him with a cattle prod.

We then convinced some little hoodlum who was stealing Halloween candy to take our family picture.  I was totally expecting him to ride away with my camera, but he actually did an okay job.

I realized in that moment that I didn't have any photos documenting Morgan's own adventures in the pumpkin patch.  There were lots of spooky things to explore, like a motion-sensored witch and a '"graveyard" full of skeletons. Morgan got super brave and even tested the hand poking through the ground to see if the blood was real. She assured me it was not.  I was actually a little disappointed that nothing had even remotely freaked her out.

Just as I was about to call it a night, we started to hear a weird rustling in the trees behind us.  At first, I thought it was another prop but then it started to get much closer and much louder.  And there they were. Three mutha clukin' chickens - clueless about Halloween, looking for a little food, scaring the shit out of my daughter.

Friday, October 26, 2012


I was born and raised on Barbies. I made them clothes, set them up on hot dates with Ken, and may or may not have pretended Skipper was an illegitimate love child.  Don't judge, my mom let me watch The Young and The Restless.
When one of my friends offered to give Morgan her Barbie collection, I was over the moon. She has two boys and was worried the dolls may end up decapitated or dismembered - I assured her that Morgan would take the same pride in her new toys as I had and that another generation of little girls would fall in love with the Barbie Dream House.
Then I found this -

Which soon became this -

And eventually this.

If you look closely, you can see Morgan's Polly Pocket hanging by her ankle, as if Morgan decided to punish all her Barbies in some plastic torture chamber.  The next generation of Barbie fans might be a little twisted.  Maybe I just need to let Morgan start watching a few soap operas.  Yeah, that'll do the trick.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Old Habits

When I was in college, I had a fairly bizarre habit of occasionally eating in my sleep.  I wasn't one of those people who ate raw eggs in the middle of the night, but I did wake up with part of a hot dog bun on my pillow on more than one occasion. 
Anyway, this post has nothing to do with that.  David and I have been carrying a dark secret about our parenting.  Until last month, Morgan got a glass of milk in bed while reading books.  Every night.  Sometimes, she got two. Both our pediatrician and dentist would be appalled. But we were desperate to help our our daughter become a good sleeper and milk before bed did the trick.  Until she turned four and I realized she was totally dependent on milk.  Like some kind of milk junkie. 
So we decided to quit the habit that had been a part of our lives for the past 1460 nights (yes, I calculated it).  I told Morgan we were cutting her off, and she actually took it like a champ. Until I went in to check on her that night and found this.  Total death grip.

Since then, I have found her in bed on more than one occasion clutching some random item for comfort.  It's usually her teddy bear, and once in a while, I find her with her flashlight.

But when I  found her the other night desperately clutching three tiny pretzels,  I realized this transition might be a little harder on her than I thought. Maybe I should start sending her to bed with hot dog buns.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Thinker

I have recently become a member of the "teaching old dogs new tricks" club.  I have been learning how to make graphs and charts in Publisher, which required me to first learn how to generate them in Excel.  Not rocket science, but I would pick reading a dictionary over Algebra any day.
I couldn't help but bring home a few examples of my work. While David was completely underwhelmed my my new found skills, Morgan was intrigued.  She poured herself a tall glass of milk and settled in for a long night of data analysis.

7:15 -- Started out strong. The bright colors were an easy sell.

7:19 Confidence began to waiver. Math is hard kiddo, better get used to it.

7:21 - Admitted defeat. Preschool has clearly let us down. 

Monday, October 1, 2012


There's a reason most families only have their pictures taken once a year...any more frequently than that and their children would be at risk of not surviving to adulthood.  On Sunday, my friend Hannah took Morgan's four-year pictures and offered to also take a few family pics.  Hannah has quite the artistic eye and I knew she would capture our family perfectly. 
Don't let this little face fool you.  For every precious moment Hannah captured, there was some yelling, a little bit of chasing, and a whole lotta bribing.
Which was completely pointless.  Despite my best efforts, Morgan gave Hannah a run for her money.

I can't imagine where she gets it.

By the way, the rest of the pictures were smashing.  We're just saving all the good ones for our Christmas card.