My poor car

In cleaning out my car yesterday I found:

Six water bottles
Five fuzzy blankies
Four pairs of boots (plus shoes and sandals)
Three long-lost binkies
Two loads of laundry
And an overdue library book (doo doo dooooooo)

Time to clean out the car? I think so.

9 months

I took Sasha to his 9-month checkup last week. Because of a change in insurance, I had to go to a new clinic. They started asking me all these questions: Does he walk, does he point, can he feed himself with a spoon? No, no, and no. Um, you know he's 9 months, right? Oh, 9 months? I think these are the 12-month questions. Ooops. No wonder Sasha seemed so behind! Three months is a third of his life! That's, like, 11 years for me! It turns out despite not walking at 9 months, he's just fine. That's what you get for having a PA student do the exam as practice before the official, full-fledged PA comes in.

Also at the appointment, the student PA asked if Sasha has teeth. Nope, no teeth. I hope he gets some soon. I feel for teeth. Oh! There are two! Two teeth came in simultaneously the day of his doctor's appointment. He'd better not bite now!

Lagoon

We went to Lagoon last week. I'll get pictures up eventually (probably) but imagine this: a beautiful, sunny day. Friends and family. A screaming daughter who is too scared to go on the boats. A screaming daughter who won't ride the whales. A screaming daughter who wants to go home before we've even gotten into the park. And an angelic son who hung out in his stroller all day without crying.

Sabrina would not ride the whales at all, but she did ride the boats with Kellen (who is her "best friend" now). She cried for the first two times around the "pond" but only looked really sad and scared during the last one. She rode the Kon Tiki boat with me twice. The second time, when it was over, she said, "I'm okay, mom." When asked if she wanted to do it again, she said "no." Really fast. Sabrina did ride the horrible Music Express with Zane, and didn't cry. She also watched me ride the wonderful Rocket that shoots you up in the air and then drops you, and that scared her.

Sasha fussed when I put him back in the stroller, but that's all. He is perfect. I think he already has the middle child personality. Not that he is going to be the middle child anytime soon, I'm just sayin'. He's so mellow and sweet, and just goes with the flow. Unlike my (almost) 3-year-old.

Crying and other news

Will the crying never end? The whining, the sobbing, the hitting in a tantrum...Dealing with 7th and 8th graders looks better all the time! Sabrina is crying because she is 2 and sleep deprived, Sasha is crying because he just woke up and was hungry, and I wanted to cry because it just wouldn't stop. Judicious feeding and timeouts, however, have held crying in abeyance for now. If it comes back, we'll need another timeout. For me. One minute for every year of my age. 33 minutes in the bathroom by myself, baby! Timeouts are such a good strategy.

In other news, Spencer tried out for and made a state-level soccer team, Rampage. In other words, $500 plus $30 a month plus tournaments. That's the bad news. The good news is that this means Spencer will great coaching (we assume) that is not his father, or ANY father on the team, and will really progress as a soccer player. I think this will be really good for him.

Sasha just finished off Sabrina's cheese sandwich. Wheat + dairy, plus an egg in the bread. Sigh. 13-year-olds can eat anything AND feed themselves with a minimum of mess, at least that I have to clean up. Of course, they're not nearly as cute as my boy.

Such a good reader.

Sabrina didn't want me to leave last night as I was putting her to bed, and asked for another story. (Incidentally, she's been asking for things "one more time" a lot lately, but hasn't got the concept that you only get to ask that once.) So, since I was heartless and would not read "Are you my Mother" to her, she read it herself. I need to get it on tape, but it went something like this, at least in parts:

"Where my mother? Looook up (look up here). Loook down (look down here). I go look for her. Down, down down. I can walk. You my mother? No. No cat, no chicken, no dog, no moo (cow). Do I have mother? Yes! Look way, way up. Look way, way down. A nort! (snort) I want my mother! Oh, a nice nort (pats the nort). Back in the nest. There my mother (puts her "wing" around my neck)." Needless to say, this got her out of going to bed for a while. Twice.