Daily

Give us this day our Daily Bread...... after you have a slice of this bread, you'll definitely be going down on your knees and thanking the gods. It's a Banana Muesli Bread, recipe courtesy of Baking Bites (hers is actually Blueberry Muesli Bread, but I substituted 1 ripe banana for the cup of blueberries, which probably gave it a moister, denser consistency than the original). I caught Alfie last night staring morosely into the cupboard, desperate for "a little something to nibble on" with his tea (which he also takes daily; actually more like 7 times a day), and this loaf of moist, chewy yumminess was the result.

This photo was inspired by tomorrow's Photo Hunt theme. Feel free to leave links to your own Photo Hunt entries below. And for more daily things, click here.

It's Not Fair!

With three children in the house (and two of them twins), sibling rivalry is inevitable. It's rampant. And it's exhausting to referee. I don't keep a tally of how many birthday parties and playdates each child has, or buy presents to make up for any shortfalls, but I do what I can to even things out, keep the accusations of favoritism at bay and generally preserve my sanity domestic harmony. I've become an expert at dividing things into three and pouring equal amounts of juice into a fat mug, a tall, skinny tumbler and a commemorative sippy cup shaped like Buzz Lightyear's head. I've thickened my hide and overcome shame to ask the guy at Trader Joe's if we could possibly have an extra balloon for the sibling who stayed at home. I've managed to sound convincing when I say that two extra blueberries one cereal bowl are the same as an extra blue horseshoe Lucky Charms marshmallow in another.

But these ungrateful kids, they still keep complaining. No matter how much we try, they will scrutinize our best intentions and put our every action through infrared scanners, searching for any hint of "You love him more". This quest for fairness reached new levels of absurdity the other day when I poured out glasses of milk for my 3 kids. Jammy inspected his glass, looked over at his siblings' glasses and whined,

Their milk has more bubbles than mine. It's not faiiiiiiir!

Fair? Oh please, kids. I've had it with fair. I happen to have a litany of grievances that make your rants about bubbles disappear into thin air. But do I complain? Well, actually, in this post, yes:

Is it fair that your social life is ten times more active than mine?

Is it fair that I have to find wrinkles and acne at the same time?

Is it fair that I gain five pounds just by looking at cheesecake while my friend Peach can inhale two cups of rice every time she eats burn it off by the time she walks away from the table?


I could go on and on. But I'm a grownup, and I have to replace those questions with some others:


It's not fair that Alfie and I can make babies practically just by hugging each other, while other couples try for years and years without sucess;

It's not fair that I can jump out of bed in the mornings while Alfie has to inject himself twice a week just so he doesn't feel like he's been run over by a bus;

It's not fair that all you have to worry about is how many Starbust Chews you got in your Halloween buckets, when other kids worry about how many meals they're going to eat that day.



Sorry, kids, life doesn't always divide the good stuff into nice, equal parts. I don't expect my kids to quit competing with each other entirely -- they are kids, after all -- but it would be nice if they stopped squabbling once in a while and realized how lucky they are, and how we love them all. Maybe if I threaten to give all their milk bubbles to the starving kids in Africa they'll shape up. Maybe I need to let them resolve things on their own more often. Or maybe I need to sneak in more hugs and kisses here and there while siblings are in the bathroom or otherwise occupied, to make each kid feel special. Or maybe I ought to do all three. Would that be fair?

Worshipping the god Apolo

This weekend I took The Pea to see Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, and I have to agree with everyone who thinks the book is far superior to the movie. But I enjoyed it anyway, mostly because I have a soft spot for Pierce Brosnan, Kevin McKidd, and Greek mythology. The stories of Zeus and Poseidon, Jason and the Argonauts, Perseus and Medusa were very real to me when I was The Pea's age, and I would have embraced the notion that the ancient gods are alive and well today. Besides, with modern-day Olympians breaking speed records, defying gravity and generally doing things mere mortals would be crazy to try, it's not hard to believe there are demigods running around Vancouver right this very minute!

Take, for example, the god of speed. I'm not talking about Hermes, or even Nike; as far as I'm concerned, that honor belongs to Apollo -- Apolo Anton Ohno, that is. World-class speed skater, World Champion, Olympic Champion and Dancing with the Stars Champion? You bet he's a god! With the Winter Olympic games just about halfway through, Ohno has become my family's undisputed Favorite Hero of Vancouver XXI (or Vancouver κα´, since we're talking Ancient Greek, not Ancient Roman). Apolo Ohno now has seven medals over three Olympic games, making him the most decorated US Winter Olympian ever -- and for all you party-poopers who say only two of those are gold, I say, Watch short track skating and you'll see what it took to get those medals . It's so volatile, a gold-medal position can turn into a last-place finish in seconds (and vice versa). We've been Tivo'ing every single minute of NBC's Olympics coverage, and somehow we always find ourselves fast-forwarding to short track skating. It's easily the most exciting winter sport, and it's all because of Apolo Ohno and his edge-of-your-seat-pee-in-your-pants performances.

Part of Apolo's appeal is that he doesn't look like your typical speed skater. His red bandana and goatee give him a laid back look, more like a skateboarder or a member of a garage band. But an athlete who wears those skintight superhero suits? Nah. Seeing him warm up before a race, you wouldn't think he was a serious threat at all. While the other skaters seem full of nervous energy, Apolo looks detached, calm to the point of boredom. For God's sake, all he does is yawn!

Even when the race has started, he hangs back, content to stay in 3rd or 4th place for an agonizingly long time. Does he know how tense he's making his audience? Does he know that everyone watching is muttering, "Pass, pass, pass! Do it now or you'll be too late!"? Then, just as I'm about to draw blood from my nails digging into Alfie's arm, the thought seems to occur to him that the race is about to end, and he'd better get going -- and in a matter of seconds, you see him scuttle to the front, like it took no effort whatsoever. You feel stupid for even doubting that he could do it. Then, with 2 or 3 laps to go (and me already emotionally drained), the real excitement begins. People start bumping into each other and taking each other down (That's when I start the screaming and Alfie begs me to shut up before the neighbors call the cops). But somehow Apolo Ohno manages to find a way to hang in there. When he slipped in the 1,000 meter final and fell into last place, I thought he was done for -- I honestly don't even know how he stayed up -- then with less than a lap to go, he skated the sprint of his life, passing two Canadians to get the bronze. The buildup of tension, the release... if my kids weren't watching the race with me I'd say it was almost orgasmic.

The only part of Apolo that isn't godlike? He doesn't seem proud at all. He seems like a genuine nice guy who's delighted to get a medal, whatever the color. When it comes to heroes, you don't get more inspiring than Apolo Anton Ohno, and when he skates in the 500 meters and the 5,000 meter relay we'll be cheering him on and praying to the gods for his victory.

The most coveted bunch of broccoli in the sporting world

It's amazing how much planning and preparation goes into every facet of hosting an Olympic games. Even the medalists' flower bouquets aren't just something the Olympic Committee picked up at your local florist; the two florists who eventually received the contract -- all the way back in 2008! -- pitched 23 designs before they went with this one. Every flower and leaf has special significance. Everything was carefully selected to minimize the risk of allergic reactions or injury (in case the athlete wants to throw them into the crowd), and maximize the bouquet's life. The bouquet is obviously designed to commemorate and preserve athletes' memories of the ultimate experience in their lives: winning an Olympic medal.

None of this matters one iota to my son. When we were watching one of the medal ceremonies, 3Po turned to us and declared, "I don't want to work really, really hard for years and years just so I can win a stick of broccoli!".

Cuddly

Aren't babies the cuddliest things ever? That's my brother's 3-month old daughter, and while we were in Manila, everyone fought to hold her.

Unfortunately my own babies aren't quite so compact, or as easy to get hold of, but I manage to sneak in a cuddle now and then.

Feel free to leave links to your own Photo Hunt entries below. And for more cuddly things, click here.

Fun in the bedroom: Sex or text?

In retrospect, I suppose Valentine's Day was NOT the right time to do what I did. But it started out innocently enough. Our alarm clock broke a couple of days ago and we were planning to go out on a day trip the next day (President's Day), so we needed to get up early. I took my phone upstairs with me and placed it on my bedside table so I could check the time when I woke up the next day. I was first in bed, and I couldn't resist checking my email one last time before going to bed... well, one thing led to another and before you know it Alfie had joined me in bed, all ready to celebrate Valentine's Day -- and there I was, fully immersed in Twitter and Facebook.

It's the first time I've ever taken my phone to bed and Alfie, who has never been a fan of smart phones and 24/7 email access in the first place, was, to say the least, peeved. Luckily, it takes more than an internet-enabled phone to get between Alfie, me and the only V-Day activity we were able to enjoy without the kids, but the (text) message is clear: tweeting in bed is not a turn-on. Who needs an excuse like "honey, I have a headache" when you've got "just one last tweet!"?

Like I said, dumb thing to do on Valentine's -- but I know several couples who take their laptops to bed the way others take books or magazines to bed. Before this little incident our bed was for two things only (okay, three if you count snuggling with the kids on Sunday mornings), and the only kinds of electronic gadgets welcome in our bed do not have internet access.... ;-) Do you tweet in bed? Does your spouse? Do they care? Or do you have rules about the kinds of gadgets that belong in your bed?


This post was inspired by the Silicon Valley Moms Blog's February book club selection: The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase. I received a complimentary copy of the book to read; for more SV Moms Book Club posts, click here.

The many faces of cookie dough

I love baking cookies, but until recently I've never been fond of baking cutout cookies. I've always found them to be too much effort, the results too uneven, the taste too bland. For lazy bakers like me, bar cookies like lemon squares or heath toffee bars are the only way to go: just dump your whole bowl of batter into a pan and cut into squares! Even drop cookies are easier because you don't have to keep rolling out the dough. Sure, drop cookies and bar cookies are inherently less uniform than cutout cookies (less cookie-cutter perfect, if you will!), but I figure you can always distract people from their ugliness jazz up their looks with pretty packaging. With so many other options available, why bother with cutout cookies?

What we learned from the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies

Here are some interesting things we learned at last Friday's Winter Olypmics Opening Ceremonies in Vancouver:

* India, a country with 1.1 billion people, only sent three athletes to the winter games. What's up with that? It's no use saying that India doesn't have any snow; neither do Ethiopia or Senegal, and they still managed to come up with one athlete each to compete in these games. What, don't they have ice rinks in New Delhi? Or aren't there any rich Indian kids who go to boarding school in Switzerland and ski?

* I was planning to include Iran (with 4 athletes) in the list of countries with no snow and more athletes than Inda, but I found out it does actually snow in Iran; some of their mountains have snow all year round!

* Hong Kong is one of the most densely-populated areas in the entire planet, with almost 16,000 people per square mile (compare that with Canada's 10 people per square mile). One square mile is like, nothing! I'd say Palo Alto's downtown area is about one square mile, and the thought of having 16,000 warm bodies squished there makes me want to run away and join Cirque du Soleil (which is based in Canada).

And here are some interesting "facts" we noticed all on our own:

* Team USA had the best headgear-- love thoseNordic-inspired knit caps! -- although Mongolia's lone athlete comes a close second, with her bongga, silvery fur hat.

* Speaking of bongga, that's exactly how I would describe the opening ceremonies. I was impressed by how they incorporated technology to come up with such creative and entertaining production numbers. Our favorite section, hands down, was the part where they made the entire stage look like a bunch of whales swimming across the ocean. Magnificent! I have to commend the organizers of the event for not even trying to compete with the human-body extravaganza of the 2008 Beijing Olympics opening ceremonies; instead, they dared to be different and did their own thing.

* Winter Olympians are extraordinarily good-looking! Seriously, the women look like models (check out Lindsey Vonn, Gretchen Bleiler, Lindsey Jacobellis, and the entire Swedish female delegation) and the men are all total hunks (except maybe Shaun White, but I suspect a lot of girls find his goofy dude appeal much sexier than the typical male model hunky type) . Alfie thinks it's because winter sports have a high financial barrier to entry, so for the most part it's the richer kids who get into these sports -- and the gene pool tends to be decidedly better-looking vwhen you have more money. I think he has a point, although I'd say the cameras also focus more on the better-looking athletes.

* Somebody is going to get fired for that Olympic torch malfunction!

Broken

Yesterday I made some heart-shaped chocolate shortbread for a party we hosted. I saved a couple of cookies for the kids and Alfie to eat on Valentine's Day, but Alfie couldn't resist breaking off a piece to nibble on. I thought the remaining cookie, while no longer perfect, would make an interesting cover for a Valentine's Day card. Just think of all the messages one could write inside!

* You've broken my heart
* You've got a piece of my heart
* I'm eating my heart out for you
* You're a sweet heart

Can you think of any others?

Feel free to leave links to your own Photo Hunt entries below. And for more broken things, click here. Happy Valentine's Day!


UPDATE: OMG how could I forget? It's the perfect photo for "broken".... and the one photo I wish I never had. Jammy broke his arm last week in a skin-crawling accident: he fell about 6 feet to the ground and landed on his back with his arm bent underneath it. He broke both the radius and the ulna right below his wrist. Now this really did break my heart.

A Beautiful Mind can also be a Dirty Mind

I love Jammy's teacher. She is a warm nurturing soul who realizes that kindergarten can be stressful and scary, full of unrealistic expectations -- unless a teacher is willing and able to provide lots of reassurance and praise. For the parents, that is.

Last week she was bursting to tell me about the Really Great Thing Jammy had done in class. Apparently, the class had recently completed an activity where they had to sort out all the animals in the Chinese zodiac (rat, ox, tiger, horse, rooster, monkey, dog, pig, rabbit, dragon, snake, goat) into two groups. Each kid could use any criteria they wanted to define the groups. All the other kids used the kind of criteria that you'd expect from 5 and 6 year olds: Big/Small, Feathers/No feathers, Two feet/Four feet, that sort of thing.

Jammy's sorting criteria?
1) Poops fertilizer
2) Does not poop fertilizer

And this is why I love Jammy's teacher. She must have known that Alfie and I would immediately be impressed by the awesome lateral thinking displayed by our son, leaving us convinced that the workings of his mind go far beyond any normal boy (I didn't even realize he knew what fertilizer was!). I'm sure she has a story like that for every parent in her class, but we lapped up the proof of his brilliance just the same. It's not like we've been worried that he'd fail kindergarten or anything, but given that his older sister entered kindergarten already reading at the second grade level while he's still struggling to sound out consonant blends, her little anecdote was a great reminder that everyone's mind works in different ways and everyone is good at something. Thanks, Mrs. D, for telling us that lovely story, and in effect, telling us Your son is doing great. He'll be just fine.