Social developments

I have lots of friends at school. One of my best friends is named Miss Megan. She's very social (she's got friends in EVERY class!) and she works very hard, so sometimes my mom calls her a social worker. I used to call her Miss Boogen, but my enunciation has improved much since the spring, so now I just call her awesome.

Last school year, we used to hang out all the time. Sometimes we'd just play, and other times we'd have deep philosophical conversations about the value of using our words, as well as more controversial practices, like hitting, biting, pinching and scratching. Sometimes, I'd even get to go to her office for special one-on-one time.

This year, I've been so busy using my words that Miss Megan's made new friends and we don't hang out so much. But when my school decided to write a nice article about her earlier this month and put it in the corporate newsletter, she picked ME to be in the photo shoot!

Which my mom says is her secret way of telling me that of all her social misfits friends, I'm her favorite and her best. When it comes to making friends, they say biters can't be choosers, but look who's BFF with the most social worker at school!

Thanksgiving

This morning we kicked off the holiday with a little Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade watching, followed by a trip outside to put air in my Dad's tires. I learned how to use the air compressor and check tire pressure.

Rowan, not one for the manual labor, decided to do her part by parading around the driveway with a sifter and a rocket.

Happy Thanksgiving! May your tummies and tires be full.

Weekend update

This past weekend was a busy one in our house. Saturday was the official kick-off of Birthdaypartypalooza (five birthday parties in nine days). Seeing as Rowan and I practice singing Happy Birthday in our spare time, we were both stoked!

Since Mom was throwing a baby shower on Sunday, Dad was on a solo mission to get us dressed and driven to the party, which explains why:

• Rowan was wearing a dress that was one size too big with a pair of leggings that were one size too small,
• I was wearing polka dot leggings with a short shirt and a pair of dress socks with ruffles,
• And neither one of us had spent any quality time with a hair brush.

It does not, however, explain why Rowan, hesitant to part ways with Mom (who met us at the party) for ANYBODY eagerly agreed to be held by this guy:

By the end of the weekend, we were spent from all the celebrating!

Monday afternoon, we were back in party mode as Mom picked us up early from school for a birthday celebration at a play area with an indoor carousel. My mom says that there is a point that almost everyone reaches in life at which the feeling of jubilation one experiences on a merry-go-round turns to pure nausea, and those horses cease to be so merry. She's not sure where exactly that point is, and so I decided to live up my youth and stay on that carousel as long as possible.

As long as possible is about an hour and fifteen minutes. I break for cake. That's my motto.

And while we spent the (extended) weekend celebrating the birthdays of my friends, I walked away with the greatest present. My very own iPad! (Thank you, Nannie!!) At last I can organize all my keep track of play cool games on a handheld device cooler than my dad's.

A good weekend, indeed!

Barney don't ride this train

In our house, our TV is overrun with programming for the preschool mind. If you're not overwhelmed by songs about friendship and sharing and letters and math, then it's completely impossible that you're in our house.

But my mom draws the line at the car. Unless we're watching a DVD, the music we listen to on the road must be sung by artists who are old enough (or human enough) to drive. This, of course, makes it a bit tricky to find just the right song, as most people old enough to drive are singing about things that we are not old enough to hear.

As a result, our favorite artists of the moment are Maroon 5 ("Misery"), B.o.B ("Airplanes") and Carrie Underwood ("Before He Cheats" (or "Cheater," as I call it) and "Cowboy Casanova").

Last Thursday, we put on a rockin' good show in the family room titled, "Evidence That We Spend Too Much Time in the Car." I was the lead singer, with Rowan on back-up vocals. Rowan doesn't mind not owning the mic, as she has all the best dance moves. (Thanks not in small part to her teachers at school, who include "the booty shake" in the toddler room curriculum.)

As for me, sure, I only really understand about every 10th word that I'm singing. But that's okay.

Cause my mom says that when I understand all of them, we're going to have to start listening to a different station.

Password: gaga

Kickin it Halloween style

One thing that I really admire about Rowan is that she's an outside-the-box thinker. She takes the obvious and enjoys it in the most completely unobvious of ways.

Like our visit last month to the pumpkin patch. Most people see a pumpkin and think about picking it, carving it, or placing it around the house as fall-themed decor. Rowan sees a pumpkin and she thinks about...well...not those things.

Transcript
ROWAN: A ball!
(pause)
ROWAN: It's fun! It's fun!

Rowan: A sucker no more

Halloween is a day full of spooky tricks and delicious treats. And while the treats were plentiful this year, there was one trick that Rowan would have been happier to have gone without -- the one in which her pacifiers disappeared.

For those of you who were reading my blog back in February, you may recall that my mom tried to nix the pacifiers once before. But Rowan, not down with that game, unleashed nearly four hours of water-based torture (i.e., crying in a manner I am sure you have never heard) until my mom relented and gave her those pacies back.

Since then, my mom had been silently dreading the day when those pacies would have to go for good. And she got a lot of advice about how to do it.

Somebody suggested that Rowan give all of her pacies to one of the babies in the neighborhood. Somebody else suggested that we put them in a box and give them to the postman, who would certainly deliver them to other babies in need. But I couldn't picture Rowan being into that kind of charitable giving.

My mom's favorite suggestion came from Rowan's teacher, who said that after a nap, we should tell Rowan that the squirrels came and took her pacifiers. We've had an off year with rodents in our house, though, and my mom thought it best if Rowan didn't think they were here to steal her stuff.

Turns out that the universe took care of our pacifier problem via a persistent and slowly worsening rash around Rowan's mouth, which surely expedited the inevitable.

My mom thinks that the universe has a malicious sense of humor.

For all those moms looking to break similar habits in their own houses, I thought I would post a step-by-step guide to how we achieved our pacifier-free status.

1. Wake up one day to discover a rash around the mouth of the baby in question. Chalk it up to a food-related reaction, even though your baby has eaten nothing out of the ordinary.

2. Ignore said rash as it worsens. I suggest doing that for about two weeks. Convince yourself that even though the rash is covered by moist plastic for 15+ hours a day, it will heal itself.

3. Once the rash looks as if it's about to start cracking or bleeding, take all the pacifiers away. You will realize that you are all out of options. There will be no turning back.

Luckily our moment of truth -- the one in which mom was brushing Rowan's teeth and realized that the elephant in the room was about to cause some serious complexion issues -- fell on Halloween night. My mom was banking on Rowan being too tired to scream for long.

And she was right. After 15 minutes of gut-wrenching hysteria, our house was quiet for the rest of the night. And after 10 minutes of half-hearted tears the following night, our house was quiet for the rest of the night. And last night, after a small whimper, our house was quiet for the rest of the night.

Turns out that the disappearance of the pacifiers was both a trick AND a treat. For the record, though, Rowan says that she plans to hide all of her most important possessions when Halloween rolls around next year.

Happy Halloween!

On Sunday, I was thrilled to wake up to discover that it was AT LAST Halloween. After 364-days-worth of discussions about costume choices, two trips to pumpkin patches, two school parties and two Halloween parades, I was excited to finally put on my costume and go trick-or-treating with Rowan and my friends from the 'hood.

2008

2009

2010

My mom says the highlight of the afternoon was when I rang a doorbell at a random house and instead of saying "trick-or-treat" said very matter of factly, "Hi. This is my sister Rowan. And I'm Jillian [Insert Last Name]. Nice to meet you," then extended my hand for a shake.

My mom thinks that clearly I've picked up a thing or two from all those politicians trying to get elected this week -- most notably that you've gotta get out there and shake a few hands if you want people to support your cause.

And what a noble, sugar-fueled cause it was! Happy Halloween!