Betsy and her magic healing cape

The cape is working!! After just a few days of wearing her cape, I can see REAL feathers starting to grow back! Poor chicken has been bald since we got her a year ago... I'm glad she is finally on the mend.

Happy Birthday, Jesse Bear!

 Jesse woke up early and discovered his traditional birthday table, complete with a new scooter, a Tonka truck, and a Blue Dog.

 The cake was lovingly made by me, and decorated by Kevin. He put things on the cake that Jesse likes a lot: implements of destruction (swords), his new scooter, airplanes, and candy. The cake ended up be, as always, too dry. It seems that some evil dry cake fairy cursed me at birth because I cannot manage to bake a moist cake (except for the famous "Baba cake" from my childhood). This year, my entire family rejected the leftovers, so I chopped it up, poured on sherry, added fruit, whipped up some custard and called it Trifle. (Unfortunately, the custard didn't thicken, so I guess it is really fruit and sherry cake soup. Happy birthday, Jesse!)

Our big two-year-old attempts to blow out candles with his friend, Ethan looking on.

Obviously, Jesse must have read the parenting books the night before, because the day of his birthday he became certifiably TERRIBLE. He has started to do this high pitched screaming thing when he doesn't get his way, and tantrums constantly. He also refuses to wear anything but a t-shirt and green shorts and his hand-me-down ill -fitting purple crocs. No socks. No jacket. No pants. EVER. No no no!!!!

Why do I give in to this? Well, life is hard enough without forcing your child into a proper outfit, and frankly, it won't kill him to get a little cold every once and a while. And I am hoping it is just a weird sensory-sensitivity/power struggle phase and he will grow out of it soon. I pick my battles, and wearing a weather-appropriate clothes is just not that important in a climate that ranges from 50-60 almost every single day of the year. 

Also, bedtime has started to get really nasty... more screaming and tantrums. Kevin and I are being firm, but that seems to fuel the fire, and so far bedtimes are a huge mess until he catches on and figures out that we really mean it. Or something. I don't claim to actually know much about parenting.

Luckily, when not screaming bloody murder, Jesse is an absolutely adorable delightful kid. He is talking up a storm-- though his pronunciation is really funny. He can be really sweet and polite, and very charming. He is very active and funny and loves to wrestle, run, do somersaults, jump on the bed, dance. feed the cat, chase the chickens, climb anything and everything, make noise, etc. A day does not go by when he doesn't make us laugh and thank God we were blessed with such a wonderful boy.

Hiking for blueberries

We went to Tonga ridge (on perhaps the last gorgeous day of fall in Seattle) to hunt for blueberries. We found a few (8). Jesse was in full 2-year-old form and refused to wear tie-up shoes, or to take off his pajama bottoms. We forced the shoes for about 20 mintues of him crying bloody murder (and me holding him as I hiked) before giving in and letting him wear his beloved purple crocs. Then he was instantaneously fine and bounded up the mountain like a mountain goat... in crocs. He must have tripped about a dozen times (each time, Kevin reminding him that he would not have tripped in sneakers), but each time, he got up, wiped off his hands and kept going. Crazy kid.

Dear loyal readers,

I just wanted to thank you all for your encouraging words of support and understanding in response to my past post about my daughter's "dark side," for lack of better words. I especially appreciated the comments that assured me that my child is not a psychopath, and I am not a horrible parent. So many of you commented about how your kids went through similar phases of doll violence, and ended up just fine! Not to mention, those of you who mentioned how sweet and well-mannered my child usually is...enough to make up for the fact that she likes to beat up babies. After baring the underside of our otherwise idyllic life, it is always nice to know that there are friends and family out there who accept us just for who we are.

Super chicken

As you all know, Betsy was the "favored wife" when Duke was around. She got more attention than all other chickens put together. And it wasn't just Duke who thought Betsy was a sexy lady, when we got her, she was already rubbed raw from roo love. Well, Duke has been gone for a few months now, and poor Betsy never grew her feathers back. It appears that the feathers were broken off, not pulled out, so I think that she needs to molt before they can grow back. Then this week, she actually started bleeding, and the stupid hens are drawn to blood and I caught Scarlett pecking her. This will just not do. So I made Betsy a hen cape, and according to Ellie, capes make you Super... so introducing, Super Chicken! I got the basic design off the internet and after a few adjustments, it seems to fit pretty well! It even has flaps to cover her shoulders. Pictures of Super Chicken coming soon...

Sweet girl

Elena, 3 1/2 years-old, Montessori girl extraordinaire (yes, she LOVES school)

 

 

 

 

Cat, chickens, yard

Oberon

Maybelle, Scarlett, Fern, Betsy

Moss on the Oak tree

Check out that Lily! It is huge.

Huh?

 

I am doing some research on assessing social and emotional health in infants and moms. The moms and infants play for 15 minutes, and we score their behavior using  a fancy scale. A few of the items on the scale look at how well the parent is supporting the child's need for playing out themes like being silly, protection and safety, aggression and physical play, etc. One theme that is not listed is TORTURING BABY DOLLS. This is probably because this is not a theme that most normal kids act out. So you can understand how disturbing it is to see my sweet loving daughter being horrible to her doll, named Katie.

Today, she decided that of all the wonderful imaginative games possible, the most fun would be to shut all of her dolls into a box, and sit on it. THis was accompanied by lots of shouting, spanking, and throwing. When asked why she was being so mean, she explained that they were just too crazy and naughty. I know I am not supposed to tell my children that their imaginations are... bad... but, huh?? Is  she a psychopath in the making? Is she playing out a deep desire to harm her little brother and put him in a box? Is she working out issues related to punishment?

And why is it that this morning, when my son woke up wanting to play "bad guy" and wrestle on the bed, even throwing a mild punch or two, I played along and actually found it... amusing? Whereas when my sweet girl decides to yell at her baby (relational aggression at its worst), I balk?  Is it okay for boys to be aggressive in play, but not girls?

I guess the most disturbing part for me is that it makes me realize that the yelling and shouting I occasionally impart to curtail naughtiness does not go unnoticed. I know too well the power of modeling... and now I realize that children's imaginations can take an occasional yell of frustration to a completely new level. Or even worse, maybe I really am that scary, even without the throwing, spanking, and torturing (For the record, I have NEVER shut my children in boxes when they are naughty. I have yelled at them, though.) So the mother-guilt rears its ugly head once again.

(To translate the video in part... She says how the babies got out of their chair and had to be shut in the box... here she is referring to an incident nearly a year ago when we put Elena in time out and she wouldn't stay in her chair, so we had to put her back over and over again while she screamed bloody murder. And they say kids don't remember events before the age of three? The "meta" is a new made-up word... and I think she is describing dental floss. We do not currently use dental floss as a form of punishment, but I will take it under consideration.)

As I write this, Elena is lovingly dressing her dolls in pajamas and putting them to bed. I asked if they stopped being crazy, and she said that they were actually just tired and needed naps. "Oh, you are my  precious beautiful baby girls!" she coos, and has started to build them beds out of legos.

Chicken update

Right now we have 5 chickens: Betsy, Scarlett, Maybelle, and the two chicks (Fern and Frieda). Maybelle went broody for about a week in the beginning of August, and stopped laying eggs. She stopped being broody in about a week (I lifted her off the nest every morning, then bribed her out of the coop with leftovers), but then started molting (losing feathers), and hasn't seemed to start laying again. Scarlett lays about 3-4 eggs a week (down from 6), and Betsy, our old faithful, lays about 5 eggs a week (down from 7). The chicks are "of age," but haven't started laying yet... any day now! In the meantime, this all adds up to 1-2 eggs a day. Five chickens, and not even a dozen eggs in a week... These gals are seriously not pulling their weight around here. Once the chicks start laying, we will likely pass Scarlett on to another family, since legally we are only actually have 4 chickens in a backyard city coop. In other news, Betsy never did grow back her feathers from Duke's rough affection, and I am starting to really worry that she'll be bald forever. And cold. I think we'll need to wait till she molts before she gets her feathers back. What happened to Baby Duke? I posted him on Craigslist for free and the next morning, a man from Fiji (I asked) drove by and took him off our hands.

That's the news from chicken-land.