Happy Halloween?

Rachel and Drew got into a car accident this morning. Very minor; both Drew and the woman who plowed into him were at an intersection; Drew, having arrived first, began driving through, and the other driver somehow spaced out and blew out his headlight. He's OK, Rachel's OK, and the other driver admitted the accident was totally her fault...but it's still a hassle. Drew's car won't be fixed until Thursday, which means I'll be solely responsible for taking Rachel to and from preschool the next few days. Which is fine except that I'm feeling really crummy and am thinking of staying home tomorrow. Ugh.

The accident happened on the way to preschool, and as soon as Drew and the woman exchanged insurance information and he got back in the car, Rachel told him, "While you were outside talking to that lady, one big tear rolled down my cheek."

"Why, honey?" he asked.

"I was afraid we'd be late for school," she replied.

She was in her fairy costume because the teachers had told her class they'd be going to the baby room to show off their finery, then would change into their pajamas for a pajama party. Rachel indeed missed her Purple class, but the Pink class let her join them. And hopefully that is all the excitement we'll have for today.

***

"Do you love me?" Rachel asked at lunch yesterday.

"Oh, yes I do," I sighed.

"I love cuddling with you," she answered. Then:

 "Even when you're mad or sad or angry, do you still love me?"

"Of course I do!" I exclaimed. "When you're mad or sad or angry, do you still love me?"

"Yes," she said.

"I may get mad or sad or angry at you, but my love for you will never change," I said. "Do you understand that? It's really important."

Comic relief

Years ago before I had children, a good friend of mine, an editor at the Pioneer Press, said to me, "You have children for comic relief."

We had one of those moments tonight. I'd just gotten a call from my friend David Jones telling us about the big snowstorm back East. We talked about it at dinner, which led to a conversation about Rachel learning to ice skate and ski this winter and play in the snow.

"You can ice skate but not ski," she said to Drew.
"Other way around," he said. "I can ski but not ice skate."
"Why?" Rachel asked.
"I'm clumsy," he answered. Then he added, "No, I'm awkward."
Without skipping a beat, Rachel replied, "No, you got it right. You're clumsy."

As we hooted with laughter -- me slapping the table over and over again because I couldn't stop -- she added, "You were right the first time. You're big and clumsy."

***

Drew sang a little of "In the Mood" to Rachel yesterday. She has already decided she doesn't like "Paper Moon," which is a shame, because Drew and I love it. Here's her assessment of both songs:

"I like 'In the Mood' because it's cheerful. I don't like 'Paper Moon' because it's boring, but if I hear 'In the Mood' when I'm sad, it would cheer me up."

***

Comment of the evening:

"We're parking goddesses, right, Mommy?"

You better believe it, kid.

Halloweenie!

"I'm so excited for Halloweenie!" Rachel said tonight, trembling.

(The latest cute thing she does is tremble when she's excited. It's so adorable!)

Drew pretended that she meant we would eat weenies on Halloween instead of duck soup (after she fills up on trick-or-treat candy, of course!). Rachel and I had a good time feigning horror and exclaiming, "No! Noo!" until he finally relented.

Rachel and I also outflanked Drew in the "over/under" argument. As in, should the toilet paper be inserted in the holder so the paper rolls OVER the roll, or UNDER?

I'm an under person; Drew is an over. We've been arguing about this for years. It even continued in Africa, when Drew would sign his letters, "p.s. over." It took so long for me to catch on that he claimed he won the battle. HAHAHA, I said, and continued to insert the toilet paper under.

(Really, people, we do discuss more substantive stuff. Like, if it's ever OK to deny medical care for your kid based on religious beliefs, or if the economy will improve in time for Rachel to find a job and leave our house; and how many men are on a baseball team. I still don't know the answer to that one. Nine? Eleven? Does it really matter?).

Tonight Drew told me that he and Rachel were having the over/under discussion, and before I could prompt her, Rachel -- who was sitting and listening to us -- yelled, "UNDER." I said, "yeah, UNDER!" Drew said "OVER!" but he was no match for the two women at the table. I feel so sorry for him -- this is only the first of many times he's gonna be outvoted on critical issues.

***

Drew pretended he wasn't going to share the pretend candy bars he told Rachel he would eat for dinner one of these days (instead of a nutritious meal).

"There's a rule you need to share your candy with us, Dad!" she admonished him. "Sharing is caring!"

Pumpkin carving!

I'm taking a digital video editing class on Thursday nights at the Northwest Film Center downtown (and today when I reminded Rachel of this, she said sadly, "I'll miss you, Mommy." "I'll miss you too, Rachel!" I replied). Drew decided tonight was a good night to carve the pumpkin we got at the pumpkin patch last weekend.

Too bad I wasn't there to see it, but I saw the evidence when I got home: Newspaper on the kitchen table, pieces of pumpkin on the newspaper, a bowl of fresh pumpkin flesh (which presumably I will use to make pumpkin bread, which got a big thumbs-up from Drew and Rachel) and pumpkin seeds, which Drew says his mom used to toast when Richard carved the pumpkin.

Drew said he explained to Rachel what he was doing every step of the way. He said she told him what shape to the make the eyes and what kind of expression the pumpkin should have (last week she decided it should be CRANKY). She told him to add ears and eyebrows.

Result: A lit up pumpkin on the front steps when I arrived, with a candle in the center. We have the most badass pumpkin in the neighborhood. Y'all should come see it.

***

Cute Rachel sayings:

Because of the rash of the articles I've been reading lately about how unprepared Millenials are for failure out of college because they've been told all their lives how great they are, I've been careful not to tell Rachel that she's smart, but to say "wow, you must have worked/tried really hard!" when she accomplishes something. And not to overpraise her when she does things she should, like dress herself and go to the bathroom herself.

I know, it won't do a lick of good -- we're bound to screw her up in some way that we can't even think of right now -- but it makes this mom feel better. As if I need any more stress in my life.

Anyway...I told Rachel I was impressed with how hard she worked on the pumpkin and how great it looks.

"Yeah!" she agreed. "Babies can't carve pumpkins."

"You're right, Rachel," I said. "Babies definitely can't carve pumpkins."

"Mommies and Daddies need to do ALL the hard work for babies," she observed. "And they get really tired!"

Couldn't have said it better, kid.

***

Considering this above comment, this one seems strangely apropos: Yesterday as I was driving Rachel to school, I mentioned something that had her reply, "the way you did for me when I was a baby."

"Yes, Rachel," I answered.

"Mommy, I can take care of you when you're old," she said.

Stunned by her thoughtfulness (we never, ever talk about this at home,), I answered, "Yes, Rachel, I would be delighted to have you take care of me."

Bedtime askidenks

Rachel gets the concept of going to the bathroom at night, but unfortunately doesn't always follow through. A couple of weeks ago I installed night lights in her bedroom (a red one, a gift from my friend Jeannette who lived in Tokyo for a couple of years and makes Rachel's room look like a bordello, Drew says) and one in the bathroom (a cool one that automatically lights up in the dark and shuts down when it's light) so she could see her way clear. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

She peed in her bed over the weekend and explained, "My body didn't goed pee, it was my brain."

She peed in her bed last night and this morning told Drew, "The bed wanted me to pee."

I think that's her way of explaining her embarrassment, to blame it on something other than herself. She really wants to wear underwear full-time, but, as I told Drew, "the bed wants you to wear Pull-Ups for a while," so we're back to those for the forseeable future.

Rachel hangs out with Angela

I had to go to a dinner tonight sponsored by the Oregon Area Jewish Committee (OAJC), of which I am a board member. It was a semi-swanky affair at the Governors Hotel in downtown Portland. I dressed up a bit more than usual for work, applied an extra dose of makeup and lots of perfume.

I felt like the stereotypical NYC mom who is way more successful and earns way more money than I do in real life as I raced to preschool, scooped up Rachel (who just ran to me and wrapped her arms around me and put her head on my shoulder without saying a word -- wonder if she was lonely today?), headed to Old Town to pick up our babysitter, Angela, then shoved Rachel's snack bags at Angela, along with my house keys, put Rachel's heavy coat on, then her backpack over that, then said a cheery goodbye as they waited in the cold for the bus to take them home. Luckily I had sort of bribed Rachel with the idea of taking a CITY BUS home to prevent her from fussing too much about missing Mommy tonight.

Angela took some hilarious video of Rachel on the bus and at home, singing songs from preschool and making up some of the words to other songs, like the ABC Song. Angela perfectly captured Rachel on the bus, saying the following after a woman leaned into her face and told her how adorable she was and went on and on about her backpack, and basically kept beaming at her the whole bus ride home. ("Kinda creepy," was Angela's verdict):

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," Rachel told Angela. "I can talk to you because I know who you are, but I can't talk to people I don't know."

Good girl!

(The dinner was lovely, by the way -- excellent food and a nice presentation, but I was sure lonely for my Rachel. Thank goodness these obligations don't come up very often).

Guest poster Drew here: While I was putting Rachel down to sleep tonight, she lay down on the rug, told me to kiss her and pretended to be asleep, a la Sleeping Beauty. First I said, "I like an assertive Sleeping Beauty -- 'Give me a kiss, you dumb prince!'" and she wholeheartedly ran with it: "Yeah -- come on, dumb prince! I want a kiss!"

So then I kissed her, and she opened her eyes, sat up and said "Let's get married! I've been looking for a prince for a husband. We can go to my house and have tea and then have milk and water and we'll be really good friends."