Just answer a few questions:

Yes, they’re still going. And going, and going, and going.
Yes, it’s just as loud as the very first time she opened the card.
No, I have not hidden the card yet…but it didn’t go anywhere near our suitcases.

Any guesses as to how long the batteries will last?
Published on Friday, December 5, 2008

So, I’m sitting here trying to BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! type. I have a lot of ideas swirling around in my head and a ton of ideas in my BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! journal file saved on my computer. Now would be a good BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! time to get them organized and get some writing pieces BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! completed.

Claire is playing BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! in my office. I don’t want to wait BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! until her nap to get these writing pieces started. Now would actually fit well into BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! my schedule.

She is playing with some of the gifts and cards she BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! received for her birthday. She loves looking at all BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! of her beautiful birthday cards.

There is one card BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! in particular that she really likes. It’s from one of her BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! uncles. It’s a magical BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! card. It is battery operated BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! and plays the sound of a magic wand, followed by a BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! princess speaking.

I’ll give you BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! three guesses BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! as to what the card says, and the first two don’t BRRRUMMM CINDERELLA WISHES YOU A DAY OF DREAMS COME TRUE! count.

Why do you make your bed?
February 6, 2009

Guest blogger Momma writes at The Casual Perfectionist, and just like the name indicates, she is an admitted perfectionist, but she’s trying to be casual about it. She and her husband have a 3-year-old girl named Claire. Momma is a firm believer in the fact that if you haven’t laughed today, you weren’t really paying attention.

I am probably the most casual perfectionist you’ll ever meet. I love it when things are just-so. I love knowing what to expect, and having a plan, and I need all my picture frames to be straight…not necessarily dusted every day, but straight. Again, I’m a perfectionist, but I’m trying to be casual about it.

But, there are some aspects of my life that don’t fit into that “perfectionist” stereotype.

For example, I don’t make my bed every day.

There, I admitted it out loud.

What can I say? My perfectionism is a psychosis wrapped in an enigma, dipped in a mystery and then deep-fat-fried in a vat of contradiction. Once it’s cooled, I like it sprinkled with powdered-sugar.

Growing up, I had the top bunk, and my mom may or may not have told me that spiders would get in my bed if I didn’t make it. So, it’s no wonder that I made my bed every single day, usually within moments of getting up.

In college, I made my bed every day, because my bed doubled as the couch in my dorm room.

After I graduated, I moved out on my own, and realized that spiders weren’t going to get into my bed (or could get in whether I had it made or not), and my couch was the couch in the room, so I became a slacker in the bed-making department.

Now, if you’ve ever visited our home, you think I make my bed. It’s always made when we have company. Even if someone shows up unannounced, I find time to run in and make it quickly before anyone is the wiser.

Not making your bed is embarrassing. Maybe I fit the perfectionist stereotype a little more than I thought? But still…if we don’t have guests coming over, at night, the bed will look exactly like it did when I stumbled out of it that morning.

Well, can’t my husband make the bed? Sure! But, he gets up before I do, so the responsibility really is mine and mine alone.

Claire has a big girl bed, and although it’s difficult to make, she loves doing it. All without prompting, she makes her bed every morning.

The other day, she came in to wake us up and told me that she’d made her bed.

“Great! That’s awesome! You’re really good at making your bed!” I said to her, genuinely excited.

“Thank you, Momma! You’re really good at NOT making your bed!” she said, matter-of-factly and with just as much enthusiasm.

She thought she was giving me a compliment, but instead, she’d caught me!

Needless to say, I’ve made my bed every day since.

Oddly enough, Daddy is on another trip as we speak, but this one was just a weekend-adventure with the guys, and he’ll be home later today.

2:41 a.m.
Originally posted Monday, February 25, 2008

So, we had an exciting weekend. We got to take Daddy to the airport twice on Sunday. Yes, twice. He forgot an integral piece of the puzzle required for his work trip, and thankfully remembered it right before we got to the airport as opposed to after we’d dropped him off and he’d gotten through Security.

So, we get off the main highway headed toward the airport and get back on the highway and head back home. “Yea! Daddy’s not going to London!” Claire shouts from the backseat. “Nope, sorry. Daddy’s still going to London. Hopefully he catches his plane in time,” I said.

Luckily, he did. That was a relief.

That evening, we’d already been invited to a Playdate/Dinner Party at a friends’ house. We opted to go sans Daddy. This was actually the perfect prescription for Claire. She missed Daddy, but she was thrilled to play with her friends.

This time, three families gathered for the evening festivities. There was a 5-½ year old boy, a 3 year old girl, a 2-½ year old boy and two 2 yr old girls (including Claire). There was also an 8-month old boy.

The old me would have been like, “Is that Dante over there? Wait…which Circle is this?” The new me was glad that Claire had other kids to play with. They weren’t all siblings to each other, so there was no fighting. It was awesome.

It was the perfect mix of ages, and the kids had a blast playing and eating and playing some more together. (The 8-month old spent a lot of time in the sling or being passed from adult to adult. He was in that perfect age where he was so smiley and easy-go-lucky.)

It was a nice, relaxing evening of food, fun and great conversation. It was just what we needed.

After the party, Claire and I came home and we got ready for bed. She went down with no troubles, even though she really missed Daddy.

Midnight rolled around, and I checked the online flight status page: Flight landed. I sighed a huge sigh of relief. I realize that me watching the status page has no bearing on whether or not the plane lands on time, but I like knowing. It’s harder for me to sleep if I don’t know.

It’s early Monday morning, and I’m finally in bed. Morning will be here soon. Must get to sleep…..

2:41 a.m. my cell phone rings. I jolt awake and scramble for the phone. I flip it open and see my hubby’s name. I press Talk.

“Hello?”

He’s all apologetic for waking me up. He asks if it’s like, what 4 or 5am there? “Nope,” I say. “It’s 2:41. In the morning.” Then, he’s even more apologetic.

“No worries,” I reassure him. And, I mean it. I’d told him to never hesitate to call me if he needs something. He knows to call the cell phone rather than do the math in his head. If I’m asleep, my cell phone will wake me up, but Claire will not be disturbed by the house phone. If I’m out and about, he doesn’t have to waste time trying the home phone if he calls my cell. It works.

“What’s up? You made it!” I feel so relieved to hear his voice.

He explains that the flight was pleasantly uneventful and that he’d found the proper trains. He had a question for me, though…

“Have you done the shredding yet?”

I laughed to myself, picturing me in my robe shredding things while Claire slept in the next room.

“Uh, no…” I said. I usually do that on Mondays so that the pile doesn’t get out of control. Sometimes I do that on Saturday to get a jump on the week ahead, but he was in luck. I hadn’t had time this weekend.

“Good,” he said. “I need you to find something for me. For some reason my PIN is not working on my Corporate Card, so I’m afraid I have it wrong. Could you check the paper that the PIN came on? It’s in the To Be Shredded pile in your office.”

“Sure,” I said, as I stumbled around in the dark, the back-light from my phone on my cheek nearly blinding me in the dark.

In my office, I’m looking through one eye squinting at the pile of papers. He’s talking in my ear about the flight and trains and general stuff.

“You really sound awake,” I said, realizing that I didn’t.

“I feel a lot better this time than last time,” he said.

“That’s good. You know? I can’t find this paper anywhere. Are you sure you put it in my office?”

“Oh…I should have told you. It’s the size of a postage stamp!” he said.

“WHAT!?” That little piece of information would have been helpful at the beginning of this task.

“I kinda already tore that page up and put just the part with the PIN in your office. It should be near the top of the pile. It’s a teeny tiny piece of paper.”

Sure enough, there it was. I wasn’t looking for something so small! I read him the number.

“Hmmm, that’s the number I tried. Maybe there was something wrong with the ATM I was using. I’ll try it again later today. I have another favor to ask…”

“Sure. Whatever you need. I’m starting to feel a little more awake,” I said, fibbing but not wanting the conversation to end.

“Okay, well, for some reason, the network isn’t working with the address book on this phone, and all the numbers I programmed into it are not available. I need to you go downstairs and look at one of the notebooks on my desk.”

I know that my hubby carries a notebook with him for work. He keeps all his meeting notes and objectives and To Do’s in it. So, I know kinda of what he’s talking about. I go downstairs, and as I’m almost to his office, he says, “I’m going to apologize in advance…”

“Uh oh. What does that mean?” I ask. I mean, what could be worse than trying to find a piece of paper the size of a postage stamp in my shredding pile?

“Let’s just say that my coworkers tease me that my notebooks are encrypted…” he said.

“Oh no. Is this like the grocery list??” I ask, knowing that I often need to have help deciphering his scratches if I’m the one that goes to the store.

“Worse,” he said, laughing.

“Ooohhh noooooo… Fine. Tell me what I’m looking for.”

“A person’s name and their cell phone number…”

He proceeded to tell me where he thought it would be written and what it may look like. I found something that may fit the criteria and tried to read it to him. He wasn’t sure if that was right, because it sounded like an office number. So I flipped through even more pages in the book.

“You’re either insane…or a direct descendent of Leonardo Da Vinci…” I muttered under my breath, but actually amused at his scribbles.

“I said I was sorry before you even started looking…” He said. I could tell he was smiling.

“It’s okay. I’m just giving you a hard time. I think I found something that looks like that person’s name and another foreign phone number.”

And, with that, he went off on the next part of his adventure and I went back to bed. Morning was even closer now, and it was even harder to fall asleep, but I was glad to help and relieved to hear his voice.

As it turns out, the PIN worked just fine in a different machine, and I’d successfully deciphered the phone numbers….with squinty eyes…through a groggy haze…at 2:41 a.m.

And, when he called us 12-hours later, he was the one that sounded groggy. He’d successfully stayed up until a decent hour local time and was ready for bed.

Claire got on the phone and said, “I love you so much, Daddy. I’m sad. I miss you.”

Through the phone, I could hear his heart squeaking as it twisted in his chest. “I love you so much too, Claire. I’ll be home before you know it.”

This one makes me laugh and is still relevant today. Enjoy!

Google Sent Me
Originally posted Sunday, February 17, 2008

I’ve been poking around in the info that Google gathers for me on a daily basis about the visitors to my site. This information always intrigues me, so I’ve come up with some very plausible scenarios.

Scenario One

Me: Hi, can I help you find something?

Nice person wandering around my blog: Hey, how’s it goin’. Oh, don’t mind me. I don’t need anything specific. I’m just looking…

Me: Okay! Let me know if you need any help finding anything… (Um, I think that person has paint in her hair. Should I say something? No…that would embarrass her….)

Nice person who totally has paint in her hair: Well… Google sent me. Actually, I came here looking for “Filoli Gold Ecru” or “Filoli Antique Lace” or anything about how to get through this home-improvement project without killing my husband. Or how to hide his body so that the authorities don’t know it was me? Or…never mind.

Me: Ah, yes. The Filoli colors. They can be found with Icelandic, Churchill Hotel Wheat, and Spicy Cayenne in the Home Improvement Category. Actually, you can type in ‘filoli’ in the little search field on the blog, and they’ll come right up. I even have pictures of the paintchips! (Now, I drop my voice to a whisper.) And, it’s probably harder to paint the room without your husband. Or not? If not…we have some shovels over in aisle 5. And, the wheel-barrows are out back.

Scenario Two

Me: Hi, can I help you find something?

Blurry-eyed person, who looks to have been crying: “do i need medice because i’m a perfectionist”?

Me: Ummm…do you have any other symptoms?

Blurry-eyed person: sobbing…muffled response

Me: Well, first of all…I’m not a doctor, so my advice is to not get medical advice from Google. Second, most perfectionists I know have to capitalize their ‘i’s’…and thirdly, you spelled ‘medicine’ incorrectly. So, you’re probably not a true perfectionist.

Blurry-eyed person: wiping nose on sleeve…looking up through tears. Really?

Me: Here’s a Kleenex.

Scenario Three

Rocker Wannabe: Yo. What’s the easiest song to sing 100% in expert in Rock Band?

Me: Dude…

Rocker Wannabe: No, for real. I don’t wanna waste my time. I have friends’ scores to beat. I have stars to earn. Just cut to the chase.

Me: Dani California, by The Red Hot Chili Peppers

Rocker Wannabe: For real?

Me: With a little bit of practice and a little bit of luck, you, too, can get the elusive five gold stars. It’s the song that worked for me.

Rocker Wannabe: Dude.

Me: For real. They’re a really pretty gold. And, they’re really cool. And, your friends will be super-jealous.

In unison: Rock on.

Scenario Four

Me: Hey, how’s it goin’?

Person in a trench coat: “I’m looking for information on Lost.”

Me: Recaps of the show, the Missing Pieces snippets, or spoilers?

Person in a trench coat: Both. All of it. All three. I want all of it. Looks around nervously.

Me: Hey, I recognize you from somewhere…

Person in a trench coat: I don’t know what you’re talking about…I was never part of an X-Files Club, nor did I have anything to do with that Twin Peaks forum.

Me: Riiight. My mistake.

Scenario Five

Me: “Imaginary conversation” has resulted in 21 visits!?

Random person: Oh, hey! That’s why I’m here!

Me: You are? Why…

Random person: Because I like conversations like the one we’re having right now…ironic isn’t it?

Famous Last Words
Originally posted Thursday, January 10, 2008

I’m standing in the kitchen, wrapped in my towel, having just gotten out of the shower. Daddy is feeding Claire breakfast.

I can’t remember exactly what brought me out to the kitchen, but something always distracts me while I’m trying to get ready.

The three of us were engaged in the typical lively banter of a lazy weekend.

Suddenly, I remember that I was in the middle of something and turn toward the hallway. “I’d better go get ready! I need to go put on my moisturizer. I can feel my face cracking!”

“That’s because it’s old,” my hubby said right before he burst into a fit of laughter.

He didn’t even pretend to say “dry.” Didn’t even pretend! But, the way it all happened and with the look on his face, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You wanna play, old man?”

“NO! No.no.no.no.no.no!” he said, gasping for air, knowing he’d be no match for me once the battle started.

“I didn’t think so.” And, then it took every ounce of my being not to hit him with my walker.

This is one of my favorite posts. Enjoy!

No, they run on magic
Originally posted Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Sunday night at about 9:30pm, I heard a loud POP! and then Bizzewwwwwwwww…beep beep…beep beep…as everything around us shut down, and we were left in darkness.

My hubby had been talking to his brother on the phone, and he had just wandered upstairs to the main level. Claire and I were downstairs. She was playing quietly with her blocks on one end of the couch and I was on the other, playing Bejeweled.

“The power went out!” I yelled to my hubby.

“I think the transformer on the street blew!” he yelled back. This is a lot of excitement for a Sunday night…

“Momma. Don’t be scared…” Claire said. “But, I need my puppy.”

I laughed in the dark. “I’m not scared. Where is Puppy?” I asked, patting my hand around on the couch.

“He’s on the tray,” she said calmly. “Wow. It’s really dark.”

I found Puppy and scooped up Claire. I made my way in the dark toward the opening that leads to Daddy’s office and the stairs. I was careful not to trip over the babydoll stroller or the leather ottoman, and hoping I didn’t step on any of the blocks she’d been playing with.

Yes, we used to have an automatic light that would come on in the event of a power failure, but sadly, it stopped working months ago. We haven’t had a chance to replace it. “Yesterday would have been a great time to look into that,” I thought to myself. Our basement is dark. Very dark. There are underground caves with more light than our basement. Luckily, some moonlight was streaming in the window wells in my hubby’s office, below the deck, and my eyes adjusted quickly.

“It’s okay,” I said, holding Claire close. “The power just went out. It’s no big deal.”

I called the power company from my cell phone to report the outage, and my hubby called his brother back with the remaining juice left on our back-up battery on the computer (we don’t have a land-line), to tell him that he’d have to cut the chatting session short.

We then took the opportunity to go out on the deck and enjoy the nice, cool evening.

“The street lights on that side must be on a different grid,” I said, looking past our fence in the back. But, even without the street lights, the moon was so full that our backyard glowed with an eerie brightness.

As we were standing there, watching the night, I realized it was time to put Claire to bed. Normally, her bedtime is 9pm, but on the weekends, we sometimes let her stay up a bit later.

“It’s time for nighty night, Claire. But, I want to tell you something. Something is going to be a little different this time. Because we don’t have electricity, we’re not going to be able to turn on your light tonight,” I said, remembering that the little touch-lamp we usually turn on the lowest setting, wouldn’t be working tonight.

“Oh, okay…” she said.

“It doesn’t have batteries, and our power went out, but you’ll be okay…” I said, hoping this wouldn’t be an issue.

“What about my dreams?” she asked. “Do my dreams need batteries?” She was very concerned that she’d have to sleep without her nightlight and her dreams.

“Your dreams?” I said, amazed that she, a two-year old, would even ask this question. “No! Nope, your dreams don’t need batteries or electricity. You’ll still be able to have them tonight,” I said as she hugged me and I snuggled into her neck.

And with that, we went back into the house. Daddy used his powerful mag-light (seriously, that thing is brighter than the sun) to energize the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons we’d painted on her walls before she was even born, and that coupled with the moonlight peeking through her curtains was enough to convince her that she didn’t need the nightlight.

Well, that, and the promise that her dreams don’t need batteries.

I mentioned Baby Piggy in yesterday’s post…and in case you didn’t get a chance to click over, you can read all about her here!

Baby Piggy
Originally posted Friday, September 5, 2008

I’ve been meaning to write about Baby Piggy for months now, but I just haven’t had the chance. Well, now I do. I will take this time to introduce you to Baby Piggy.

Here she is with Claire.

Click on photos to enlarge.
Clicking a second time will show more detail.

Don’t you see her? She’s in Claire’s hand.

Here’s a closer look:

My apologies for the blurry picture of her. She’s so excited by the flashing of the camera that she’s wriggling all over the place.

Oh! Now, she’s had enough of the photo shoot and she’s trying to escape onto the couch.

You didn’t see her? She’s so soft and pink. Her little curly tail is just so adorable. She makes a wonderful snorty sound when she’s excited. Her little belly is so warm and round, and it jiggles when she’s happy. She loves kisses, and she adores having that little spot behind her right ear rubbed.

Luckily for me, for all of us actually, she is small enough to fit in my purse or a pocket. She also likes to ride around on people’s shoulders and hide in their hair. Who knew a piggy could be so cute and ornery?

She goes everywhere Claire goes. She does everything Claire does. Sometimes she gets Claire in trouble. Naughty, Baby Piggy.

Now, Claire also has a real stuffed animal that is a baby piggy. They look very similar, yet nothing alike, and although they have exactly the same name, woe upon ye who misinterpret any requests for the *real* Baby Piggy.

And, as I can attest, you’ve never fully lived until you’ve played a game of Hide-n-Seek with Claire and Baby Piggy. It’s especially challenging when they hide in separate locations.

A wonderful place for a picnic
January 9, 2009

Momma writes at The Casual Perfectionist, and just like the name indicates, she is an admitted perfectionist, but she’s trying to be casual about it. She and her husband have a 3-year-old girl named Claire. Momma is a firm believer in the fact that if you haven’t laughed today, you weren’t really paying attention.

Our little girl turned three at the end of November. Finally she’d reached the magical age printed on most toys. She’d officially graduated into the 3+ realm. Awesome!

One of my aunts sent Claire a birthday present, and I was so excited when Claire ripped open the paper to reveal a board game! It was Chutes and Ladders™! I hadn’t thought about that game for years, and I was so happy to realize that Claire had finally reached the age where we could start exploring board games together.

As cliché as it sounds, it is amazing how quickly time flies. My little girl is ready for board games? Who knew!?

Knowing how much of a perfectionist I am, the realistic part of my brain issued the rest of my body a warning: Yes, she’s only three. Yes, she just turned three. Yes, I know to be patient with her. Still, I couldn’t wait! I love board games! I love Chutes and Ladders™! Or, at least I thought I did. Who doesn’t like Chutes and Ladders™? This is going to be so much fun!

Later that day, Claire begged to get out her new game. She didn’t have to ask twice, because I was excited to open up the box and check out the blast from my past. As we were setting it up, I was wondering how this would go. Would she want to take turns? She doesn’t usually have a problem taking turns, so we’ll be fine. She loves counting things, so jumping her little cardboard person on each square should be fun for her, too! And, there’s the number wheel! Who doesn’t love spinning the spinner-dealie!?

I got all the plastic parts punched out of the packaging grid, and I let Claire choose her person. She wanted to set up all the characters, so I let her do that. Once all the little blue plastic bases were assembled, we’d be ready to go!

And it all went downhill from there.

Taking turns wasn’t an issue. Spinning the wheel wasn’t an issue. She loved hopping her little cardboard person onto the different squares, counting out each number. It was the entire concept of the board game that was lost on Claire. She didn’t want to climb a fake ladder with her cute little person, even if it meant she was winning. She wanted to have a conversation with her cute little person, on that square over there! And, look! That looks like a great place for the other cute little cardboard people to join her little cardboard person for a picnic!

In a matter of less than three minutes, I’d lost all control of the board game. I tried to remind myself that it was just a game. The point of the game was to have fun, right? She was a having a great time until I started pestering her about following silly little rules! But, if I don’t teach her the importance of rules, who will? But…she’s three! It’s a game! Let it go! I couldn’t.

I had to find a way out of this. Has Chutes and Ladders™ always had 100 squares!? Wait. Who says we have to make it to the end for one of us to win? Yay! You won! Now, it’s time to play with something else! Rather than have my head explode, I’d found a way to wrap up the game, and she helped me dismantle the little cardboard people, and we went onto another activity.

I’d fully intended to carefully hide that wonderful game until she was older. Maybe when she was five? Yep, two more years would be enough time. But, I didn’t put it out of sight quickly enough. The next day, she not only remembered the wonderful game we’d played the day before, she could see it up on the shelf.

Great.

So, I got it down for her. I helped her get the box open, and then I told her to go ahead and set up the pieces while I finished up what I was doing at my desk. She’d remembered how to put the little plastic bases on, and she put the spinner where I had set it the day before.

And, before I could get over there and start ruining things again, she’d started her own game. She danced her little people around the board, involving them in all sorts of conversations. A couple of them were having a picnic over by the Chute at Number 49, because there was a little girl who had cookies to share right there! And, another little cute cardboard person was going to play with the puppy at the top of Ladder 42. And when they were all done with that, they all started dancing together with the other one in the middle of the board.

Every few minutes she’d spin the spinner and shout out the number. “Momma, Chutes and Ladders™ is fun!” Claire said with the enthusiasm that only a 3-year old can possess.

“I know! It is…isn’t it!?” And, I realized that it was.

There will be plenty of time for her to learn the real rules to Chutes & Ladders™. Right now, the important part is that she has fun and gets to use her imagination. And, I’m learning to let the silly little things go. When she’s older, I’ll introduce games where following the rules is the fun part, but we’re years from that point…and I’m okay with that.

In the meantime, I’m toying with the idea of adding another game to our collection. Doesn’t Candyland™ sound like a wonderful place for a picnic?

It’s no wonder they don’t want to leave!
December 12, 2008

Momma writes at The Casual Perfectionist, and just like the name indicates, she is an admitted perfectionist, but she’s trying to be casual about it. She and her husband have a 3-year-old girl named Claire. Momma is a firm believer in the fact that if you haven’t laughed today, you weren’t really paying attention.

One of our favorite places to play is a local play-area at a Rec Center near us. The indoor play-structure was built with a tree house theme in mind, and all of the tunnels stretch out above the room, like the branches of a tree. It’s great because the parents can stand or sit down below and chat while their kiddos crawl through miles and miles of tubing above. There are many different compartments, most all with windows overlooking the room below. There are different slides throughout so that you can easily get down…only to run around like a crazy person on the squishy floor of the play area and climb the spiral stairs up again.

Claire and I have been here many times. Our Moms’ Club meets there on occasion (more now, in colder weather, since meeting at a park to play is so nice-weather-dependent). It’s great to meet my friends and chat while Claire plays with the friends she knows in the group and meets new friends who happen to be playing there that day as well.

But, it wasn’t always like this.

At first, Claire didn’t want anything to do with the looming structure. The stairs were too enclosed, and the tunnels too confining, and she’d get three steps up and start crying for me. The whole thing turned into more of a stressor than a playful relaxing time, so I opted not to go to the playdates at the center. Our group has so many activities during the week that it was fine to pick and choose.

Eventually, we started going again. Claire started getting more and more comfortable with going up the stairs into the structure by herself, and the more she did it, the more confident she became. Sometimes she’d venture out on her own, and sometimes all it took was an older or more confident explorer to say, “Hey! Come play with me!” and off they’d go.

And, now, we’ve reached a new level….

A couple weeks ago, we were meeting some of our Moms’ Club members at the center. Claire was having a blast playing with the other kids. It was nearing the time to go, and one of the moms had to leave. She and her little boy, Ryan, said their goodbyes, and another friend and I continued with our chatting, watching our kids, Claire and Heath disappear up into the structure.

Ryan is a little older than Heath and Claire, and he is awesome at being a good helper. Ryan is an expert at finding other kids in our group and bringing them back down, or helping them get to the slides. He’s also great at answering the “Where are they now?” question that we holler up at him every now and then.

So, Ryan is gone, and we can’t find Heath or Claire anywhere.

There is only one entrance to the play area room, and we know they didn’t escape. We saw them go up the spiral stairs, but we can’t see them in the cool helicopter section nor the awesome car with the spinny-flower steering wheel. Where could they be?

We start calling for them.
No answer.

We listen for them.
No luck.

I look at my friend.
“I’m goin’ in. Wish me luck!”

And, with that, I ascended the spiral stairs into a completely different world. No wonder they didn’t want to come down! I mean, come on!! This is so cool! The different colored tubes make the air glow, and there are so many different ways to go and things to see!

I crawl over to a couple different areas we know they like, but I can’t find them.

Just as I’m trying to decide which way to go next, I see a little bitty girl just crying her eyes out. There is another little girl sitting with her. She looks at me and says, “Ashley wants her mommy!”

And, then I can hear a mommy calling for Ashley.
Poor little Ashley has figured out how to get up the stairs but doesn’t know what to do next. We’re all congregated near the top of one of the slides. “This is Ashley?” I ask the older girl. She tells me it is, and Ashley just sobs harder. Knowing that I would want someone to help Claire if she were in a similar situation, I had to act.

I call down the tube-slide, “Is Ashley wearing all pink?”

“Oh, someone’s up there!” I can hear the relief in the woman’s voice. “Yes! Yes, Ashley is in all pink!”

I am horrible at guessing ages, but I would have a hard time believing that Ashley was much older than a typical one-year old. If that. I didn’t want to be responsible for tossing her down the slide, and the thought of negotiating the spiral stairs with a squirming toddler in my arms was daunting.

Then I got an idea.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll bring her down the slide. Would that be okay?” I yelled down to Ashley’s Mommy.

“You would!? That would be great!”

Ashley wanted nothing to do with this plan. She didn’t want to be up there but, she certainly didn’t want anything to do with this strange woman who was not only awfully close to her, but was trying to pick her up and get her to go down the slide.

Luckily, this particular slide is very gradual, and I was able to slowly wind my way down without dropping poor little Ashley, who was screaming at the top of her lungs by this point.

As I got to the bottom, and got off the slide, I handed Ashley to a very grateful Mommy.

“Well, the good news? Your daughter does NOT like going to strangers! The bad news? I still have no idea where the two are that I actually went up there to find.”

During the whole ruckus with Ashley, I thought I’d heard Heath’s mom call up to me that she’d found him, but now, I didn’t see them anywhere! No Heath. No Claire. And, now I couldn’t even find my friend.

So, I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and called her. She popped her head out of the bathroom and told me that she’d found Heath, but couldn’t resume the search for Claire until they’d taken care of a more pressing matter.

When they were done in the bathroom, she told me that Heath thought Claire might be in the other section…the section where the bigger kids go. I’m not even sure how to get into that section, and Claire had never really played over there. This time, my friend went in.

I stood down below holding Heath’s hand while my friend searched for Claire.

She found her!

Claire was playing with a new friend she’d met in the tunnels and had no idea why we felt it necessary for the fun to end.

Adults are no fun, and if given a choice, she’d stay in the tubes all day, thankyouverymuch.

It took some creative coaxing on the part of my friend, but soon they emerged, and we were all reunited.

The comedy routine we were inadvertently trapped in had ended, and it was time to say goodbye to the magical world of the play-structure. I can only imagine how funny the whole thing seemed to an outsider.

We have since returned and were able to leave without incident. I’m not sure if my “you HAVE to come when we call for you” speech has really sunk in or if we’ve just been lucky enough to catch them before they get pulled back into the tunnels by unseen forces.

And, now that I’ve been up there, I know what we’re dealing with…and it’s amazing that we ever get them down.

This is one of my favorite posts from the past. Check it out!

A Dollhouse Story
Originally posted Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Every dollhouse tells a story. Claire got a dollhouse from one of her aunts for Christmas, and she loves playing with it. She rearranges things to suit her fancy. I couldn’t help but notice what was happening with the dollhouse yesterday.

Note about the pictures: You can click on each picture to enlarge it. Clicking a second time will show even more detail.

Here is a picture of the dollhouse.

Upon first glance, all appears to be somewhat normal. Claire has decided that the big bed needs to be on the upper level (in what is supposed to be the baby’s room?), but that actually makes more sense. It fits better up there. The wardrobe is out on the patio, but again, it fits better out there. The chairs are in the baby’s room and they are facing the window, because who doesn’t like to watch the squirrels playing in the trees in the backyard?

Upon further inspection…

You’ll see that Baby and Momma are in the bathroom. The chairs are in the tub. Hmmm…not quite sure why, but that’s okay. It’s not my house. Maybe they were dirty? Oddly enough, they fit perfectly.

Then we see something has gone awry in the kitchen…

Daddy has either tripped and fallen or has decided to take a nap. It’s hard to tell without more information. Either way, he still has a goofy grin on his face, so whatever it is can’t be all that bad.

Then we see the real reason…

(I’ve made some adjustments to show you what’s happened, in case you can’t tell from the other picture…)

Daddy has discovered that his computer chair has been replaced by a toilet. And, he’s fainted from pure joy.

And, who wouldn’t?

p.s. What? Claire comes by this assumption naturally… Ha! I love it!