Great tease
Claire's early fascination with the potty--opening and closing the lid, pretend play with seating and wiping her teddy bears--has gone to the next level. Over the weekend she successfully used the potty for the first time. I think it's really just a big tease though. She hasn't shown the signs of being physiologically ready, despite her emotional eagerness to be a big girl.

Now that I think about it, of the nearly 100 kids I've worked with in the church toddler room over the years, only one potty trained before age 2. I really don't expect to be out of diaper land any time soon.

Truncated violin
Last night we watched a video of The Red Violin, which we'd checked out of the library. Unfortunately, in one of the scenes the tape got weird--possibly because of a repaired rip--and we're not entirely sure what happened.

Has anyone who has seen this film remember what happens near the end of the segment with the 19th century virtuoso Frederick Pope? At one moment, his author girlfriend is returning from a research trip to Russia, the next thing we see, she pulls a gun on Pope, fires a shot and the violin flies up in the air. Then a voiceover of Pope says he plans to commit suicide and leave his estate to the girlfriend.

Can someone explain what's missing and why the girlfriend pulled out the gun? I'm sure it's important to understanding the plot. Thanks!

Junior chefs
It's occasionally worth making a special trip to the ritzy Main Line just to hit the thrift shops where the well-heeled dump their "junk." Some of these places' "thrift store prices" seem like delusions of grandeur, but I've occassionally scored some serious bargains.

Over the weekend I found a big Fisher Price play kitchen for a mere $5. It's not in mint condition, but I can live with no microwave door for such a great price. A similar used toy was on eBay for $30. Play kitchens sell for $40 to $120 new.

Seeing Claire enjoy the new toy got me thinking about my childhood play kitchen. Aside from a plastic and a ceramic tea set and some baking pans that were new, all of it was handed-down stuff. Some of the furniture and utensils came from my much-older sister (1950s toys), others were frankly "extreme hand-me-downs" from my mother. I played with Mom's 1930s all-metal stove, and iron that at one point could actually be used to press doll clothes, and a well-constructed dish hutch with an enameled steel countertop.

When I got a Holly Hobby Easy Bake oven for my 8th birthday, I didn't like it nearly as well as Mom's old toy stove. For all its attempt at charm, the plastic 1970's faux potbellied stove just wasn't as cute or imaginatively functional. Mom's stove was made from tin, had curvy legs, two little burners and an oven door that opened and closed. When Mom was little she could plug in the stove and, I suppose, bake tiny cakes in it. Someone had removed the cord at some point in the 40 years before it became mine.

Today's toys are safer. No one today would think of giving a child a working iron as a toy, for example. I really don't think they're very well made, however. Plastic cleans well, but wood, steel and tin can last for generations.

Despite being made from cheaper materials, today's toys are so expensive because they come with so many bells and whistles that seem to discourage imagination rather than encourage it. I read a number of reviews on the amazon-toys R us site in which parents complained about toy kitchens being "bossy" and telling the child how to play. Many said they removed the batteries so their kids would actually enjoy the toy. Imagine paying $120 for something, then disabling the most expensive component. That's not my idea of intelligent design.

In the name of the Telly, and the Ernie...
Teaching catechism to the under-two set does present some unique challenges. Toddlers' short attention span and tendency to fixate on a favorite thing, for example, can frustrate many a well-intentioned parent.

Here's how a session went at our house:

Joel: Claire, who made you?

Claire: Elmo

Seriously, though, we are planning to use the PCUSA catechism "Belonging to God" rather than the "Catechism for Young Children" that the PCA uses. This is largely because it uses more concrete language and does a good job of explaining salvation history in a straightforward way. We also like the way it personalizes the material, placing the child in the story of salvation and the church, rather than stating fairly abstract theological ideas.

Sprouts
The lettuce and peas have germinated! Cool. If nothing else, I can have pea salad this summer.

Time to sow
I've just started my seedlings for what I hope to be a more bountiful garden than last year. I know logically that the seeds will take over a week to germinate, but I can't seem to resist peeking at them every day.

I remember some of my earliest gardening endeavors working with my mom. She kept an enormous vegetable garden, as well as an herb garden and a big, scary raspberry patch. I knew that winter was nearly over when mom planned an outing to the agriculture center. There she picked up envelopes of seeds--some lumpy with promise, others suspiciously lightweight. I loved exploring the store and discovering that Purina made not only Cat Chow, like I fed our tangle of barncats, but also Rabbit Chow and Goat Chow.

It was always a thrill to watch the first signs of life from those hard seeds--one leaf, then two, poking up from the soil. How tender the tiny new plants were. I hated the scary week or so that the plants sat in the cold frame adjusting to the outdoors and "hardening off." Many wouldn't survive the ordeal. But those that did were soon lined up like soldiers in their new soil homes under mom's watchful eye.

I never have and never will like the weeding and mosquitos of midsummer, but I'm still captivated by spring's small magic waiting in a little pack of seeds.

Super puzzler
Okay, I really need some help with this one. We have a lovely knife set crafted from an unpronounceable metal. Anyone wager a guess on how to pronounce Molybdenum?

Puzzles
Dear readers, I'm ashamed that I've had so little to blog about. So it's time to crack out some of the lint that has been gathering in my brain.

Questions that puzzle me:

* Whatever happened to Michael Dukakis?

* Why do the media talk about "sex abuse" and "terror attacks" instead of "sexual abuse" and "terrorist attacks"?

* What were the parents of famous cellist Mr. Ma thinking when they named their son "Yo Yo"?

* Why isn't lamb more readily available in American supermarkets?

* Why does the crew that replaced our water mains spend only two hours a day repairing the street they tore up?

* Is low-carb ice cream really as disgusting as it sounds?

More mysterious toddler behavior deciphered
Last night Claire had a huge meltdown when we tried to feed her dinner. A dinner guest was due to arrive and we figured our little one wouldn't want to postpone eating until the guest came. I sat her at the kitchen counter and started doling out food. She instantly became insensed, screaming and hurling food at us. She was freaking out so bad I thought she was going to vomit.

I pulled her out of the high chair and took her to the dining room to give her more space to have her tantrum. The screaming and gagging continued for several minutes. I tried holding her and that calmed her down. Finally, we moved to the living room and I read her a book as her post-crying hiccups abated.

She played until our guest arrived, then showed interest in eating in the dining room with us. Eventually she ate happily in her booster seat, the guest none the wiser about her previous outburst.

Tonight she again threw a fit over dinner. When Joel and I sat down to eat, I put Claire in her booster seat in the dining room, attached the tray and put a bowl of food in front of her. Again, she angrily threw food, cried, screamed and gagged.

We let her down, figuring she wasn't ready to eat yet. After a prolonged jag of kicking and crying, she calmed down and showed interest in eating. I put her in the booster seat, no problem. Then I attached the tray. More screaming and food throwing, then she kicked off the tray. I looked at Joel in exasperation. A look of sudden inspiration flashed across his face.

"Honey, do you want to sit close to the table with Mommy and Daddy?" he asked, pulling her booster seat up to the table.

The tears instantly stopped. I pulled a placemat out and put it under her bowl. She very happily ate, proudly practicing with her toddler fork.

All she really wanted was to eat at the table like she'd seen her little friend Ezra do at our playdate Wednesday morning. The fact that she'd pointed to the booster seat on Wednesday evening and said "Ezra" (okay, she calls him "Yeah-ruh") didn't mean much to me at the time. Now I realize she was trying to tell me she wanted to emulate how he eats.

Joel says it was the tray kicking that finally cued him in. He figured these tantrums were caused by simple frustration. She wanted something and couldn't get us to understand what that desire was.

I think we'd better brace ourselves for a whole lot of "I do it myself" in the coming months.

A new voice
As the pediatrician predicted earlier this week, Claire began the odyssey into sentences. As a parent, you always dream that your child's first sentence will be something charming and sweet like "I love you" or "me hug mommy."

Yesterday, we learned that the tyrrany of desire is what really takes precedence in learning to communicate. Not much enjoying what was on offer for dinner, Claire angrily yelled "I WANT NANNY [banana]!"

Sigh. Someday I'll rate higher than fruit.

Rogue patrons, beware...
Putting the final touches on our annual report for the church library with our co-librarians, Joel and I started brainstorming ideas to deal with the perennial problem of overdues. The idea of advertising an "amnesty month" seemed appealing. We don't charge fines, so that's not really the issue. It's more that patrons are ashamed of having held onto something that belongs to the church for ages.

So it's getting late as we talk about this, and Joel is becoming more punchy by the minute. "Forget amnesty, we're too soft on these booksnatchers," he says. "You want the library books back? This is what we announce." [with appologies to Pres. Bush's Iraqi Freedom speechwriters]

NO MORE FRIKKIN LIBRARY AMNESTY
My fellow Tenth members, at this hour, diaconal forces are in the early stages of library operations to retrieve overdue books, to free them their borrowers and to defend us from this grave danger.

On my orders, diaconal forces have begun striking selected targets of library importance to undermine overdue borrower’s ability to retain books. These are opening stages of what will be a broad and concerted campaign. More than 35 ministries are giving crucial support -- from the use of office space, to help with intelligence and logistics, to the deployment of diaconal units. Every ministry in this coalition has chosen to bear the duty and share the honor of serving in our common library defense.

To all the men and women of the diaconate now in people’s homes, the peace of a troubled library and the hopes of an oppressed congregation now depend on you. That trust is well placed.

The enemies you confront will come to know your skill and bravery. The books you liberate will witness the honorable and decent spirit of the Tenth diaconate. In this conflict, Tenth faces an enemy who has no regard for conventions of book-borrowing or rules of book-return.

I want the members of Tenth and all the world to know that diaconal forces will make every effort to spare innocent civilians from harm.

Our church enters this conflict reluctantly -- yet, our purpose is sure. The people of Tenth and our friends and allies will not live at the mercy of outlaw library patrons that threaten the peace with wanton disregard for our return policy.

Now that conflict has come, the only way to limit its duration is to apply decisive force. And I assure you, this will not be a campaign of half measures, and we will accept no outcome but victory.

My fellow Tenth members, the dangers to our library and our church will be overcome. We will pass through this time of peril and carry on the work of peace. We will defend our collection. We will bring freedom to our books and we will prevail.

May God bless our library and all who defend her.

Stargazing
I was a little disappointed that only some of the cast of Return of the King attended the Oscars. I would have liked to see David Wenham again. And Bernard Hill.

I think on screen, David Wenham is better looking than Sean Bean, or at least looks far better in a wig. Sean Bean is perhaps better looking in real life. He's kind of old though.

Okay, here's my true confession. I have Faramir wallpaper on my computer. Really, it's the character that I like, largely as portrayed in the books. When I boot up, I do this little chant-- "Fair-a-mir! Fair-a-mir!"--and Joel glowers at me.

LOL, I can hear the lectures now about what a bad wife I am....

Springy
What a wonderful gift to get a little sip of spring today. Our dog Nicky (or as Claire says, "Gicky") and I took a nice long stroll in the woods this afternoon, squishing in mud from a final melt and enjoying the sunny low-60s weather. Odd how 60s weather felt so cold in Florida a few weeks ago, while here it feels like a heat wave.

It did my heart good to see a patch of wild snowdrops while letting Nicky take a big slurpy drink from a little spring-fed rivulet that feeds into the creek.

It's nearly time to start seedlings inside. Mmm seed shopping...Peas, zucchini, bell peppers, and if I'm really brave, tomatoes.

Is there some sort of secret, all you green thumbs, to starting tomatoes from seed? My two prior attempts were total failures.

Tripping
Yesterday morning, I let Claire watch a little kids' programming on PBS while I organized laundry. When I returned to the room, she was sitting on the couch completely mesmerized by this very, very strange program called "Boohbah."

Boohbah makes Teletubbies look like Shakespeare. I really think you need to be under age 2 or a drug user to fully appreciate it. Almost no talking occurs during the program. For a good portion of the show, a glowing ball with a rainbow trail bounces around while children's voices say "Booh-bah" repeatedly and giggle.

The ball eventually lands and these five freaky creatures come out. They have turtle-like retractable kewpie-doll heads--but no mouth or nose--and bulbous bodies in rainbow shades. These creatures would have been the stuff of nightmares for me as a kid. They never, ever talk. They just roll their eyes from side to side with a clicking sound. Creepy. They do occasionally squeak and sing five-note chords. And they dance a lot. In fact, about all they do is dance. How children are supposed to learn anything from watching these singing rainbow freaks gyrate and sway is a total mystery to me.

One segment of the show has normal humans who do stuff--with minimal talking. The episode I saw, Grandpapa and dog Fido race back and forth between two armchairs. Fido always gets to sit while Grandpapa is repeatedly perplexed. Long, boring and stupid.

The Boohbahs dance again for a while, then climb back into the ball. The ball bounces along with its rainbow trail, then hits the ground and creates a rainbow puddle when a child's voice calls "Look what I can do." Next we get to watch a child do some repetitive motion (e.g. touching elbows to knees) for like three minutes straight while standing on the rainbow puddle. And then a group for another three minutes, then another lone kid for yet another three minutes. Mesmerizingly dull.

Please, PBS, bring back "The Electric Company" and ditch this British bad trip.

Ahhh
The banquet last Friday was a big success. Around 130 ladies attended. The food was better than I've had at many wedding receptions, for a fraction of the cost. Nothing but raves from these women church leaders during and after. The ladies loved our theme of "You are a treasure." I was a little worried that naming the tables after gemstones might seem a little hokey, but it actually did work out to be kind of nice. The centerpieces were gold-painted boxes with rose arrangements and jewelry spilling out. In candlelight, the effect was quite lovely.

Saturday I was pretty wasted and napped away the entire afternoon. Sunday and Monday, the fog of fatigue gradually lifted.

I have my life back again.

Now what do I have to look forward to?

I need another project.

Nuts in the family tree
Part of the reason I'd wanted to go the Ringling Museum last week was to find information about my great grandfather. Like the old cliche, he actually did run off and join the circus.

Well, technically he started in a Wild West show. Mom has very little information because he was something of a verboten topic when she was growing up. You see, my great grandad left my nana in 1903 with a three-year-old (my grandmother) and an infant (Great Uncle Bob). Though he had primarily worked as a tailor, great grandad was a horse enthusiast and loved training animals. He initially ran off to work as a horse trainer in a Vaudeville-era Wild West show.

What happened with his career over the next 20+ years is something of a mystery. We know that after divorcing my nana, he married a trick rider. She apparently kept up a correspondence with Great Uncle Bob's family. In one postcard, dated 1929, this second wife mentions having dinner with the Ringlings at their mansion in Sarasota and being glad they joined Ringling Bros. Circus in 1928.

The only thing Mom and I found at the circus museum was a 1929 series of headshots of all the circus employees. We spend about a half hour poring over the somewhat grainy shots and narrowed it down to one man who looked most like the photos we had of great grandad.

Mom had chatted with an archivist from the museum before I went down and did get a little more information about his life before Ringling Bros. The archivist uncovered a mid-1920's playbill from a smaller family-owned circus that listed great grandad and his second wife. Surprisingly, she was not merely a bareback rider, but also a trainer of "liberty horses" (riderless animals that perform to whip cues). Great grandad had an act called "football horses." I'm hoping to discover more from the links provided by the nice Ringling Museum archivist.

For now, I know for sure that I have horses in the blood! :-)

Banquet
Banquet details are falling into place for our event next weekend. The caterer has been very, very chatty on the phone, but aside from talking my ear off, he has been no problem at all to work with. My decorating ideas finally gelled and I started purchasing what I need.

The only big concern now is the fact that over 100 invitees have not sent back their RSVP postcard. Responses are due by Friday, so I hope we hear from these folks!

Out of place
My mom and I drove up to Sarasota for Thursday and Friday to visit my former piano teacher and see the Ringling Museum.

We took Donna out to a restaurant she recommended, Dutch Heritage. To my surprise, the place was run by Mennonites, and nearly half of the clientele was Mennonite. It seemed really incongruous to see men in black suspenders and mustache-less beards with wives in cape dresses and starched bonnets walking among the palm trees. They seem more "right" back in Pennsylvania living in rich farmland and rolling hills.

I never would have guessed that Sarasota, home to winter quarters for the circus, would have a substantial community of conservative Mennonites. You try to get away, and home comes to you!

Migration
Tomorrow I hope to banish my blahs by flying to see my mom in Florida. You'd think with a trip south to look forward to, I wouldn't have been so mopey the past month.

The best part of this trip--and simultaneously one of the harder aspects--is that I get to go BY MYSELF. Yup. You heard me right. My wonderful husband said that I deserve a real vacation and that we should be able to find babysitting for a few days.

So Claire will be spending time with her grammy and two of my girlfriends the three days Joel is teaching and I'm away (all free! how cool is that?). He'll get to experience single parenting over the weekend. I did it for two weeks when my father got sick, so I know it won't be the easiest time for him. Fortunately, he gets to be single parent in his own home, rather than away from home.

Now I just need to figure out where I stored my swimsuit for the winter....

Blahs
Anyone else out there feeling it? You know, the winter blahs? It keeps me from blogging. Really. I'm reading a couple of great books right now, but I feel too blah to blog about them. And Claire is being so cute, but do I write that? Nah.

January is one of those months when I most doubt that I have anything worthwhile to post. So how do I get unstuck?