In the realm of baby milestones, the past twenty-four hours has been a busy one. While my daughter can crawl, she has done so with agonizingly slow forward-motion. She moves all around, but she hadn't figured out the hand, knee, other hand, other knee process of forward propulsion with deliberate certainty until yesterday.
I noticed if there was something new, something exciting, something maybe involving a talking Elmo across the way, she became motivated to get over and check it out. My son brings things over to her regularly. He's sometimes interested in showing them to her, other times he just likes to be where the action is. So she commonly has things close at hand. I've pulled everything away from her in the past, but this last week of babyhood has completed more circuits and now she gets it.
On the boy front, my son has never climbed out of his crib before today. We've heard all sorts of stories from parents about when and how their children climbed out. I've been thankful that his crib is either too deep, too slippery or he's just not had desire enough to try and climb out. The only time I've ever seen him try is when he had a toy in the mornings to bridge him until it was time to get up.
Uncomfortable as it might be to stand on that toy, he would do so in order to gain another inch or two towards the rail. This morning, just after my husband left I went to the basement to get some work done and I heard a loud thump-a-bump. This was followed by a startled, but not injured cry. As I headed upstairs I heard him crying in the hallway and when I got upstairs he was trying to explain to me what had happened via baby babble.
I picked him up and he stopped crying. We called daddy to let him know he had missed the fun. My husband speculated it was leverage from the truck he was playing with, and it was. Truck and two blankets piled on top for maximum height. I changed him, put him back in the crib and replaced his current toys with thinner toys.
Baby mobility has been raised to another level at the house now. It's easy to complain and say you're tired and how exhausting babies are, but it's worse to think for one moment that your child wouldn't be trying to learn new things, become more mobile, get into more trouble even. So we smile, hope nap time will come soon, and carry on.
The Big Boy Update: In addition to getting out of the crib, his vocabulary continues to grow quickly. Yesterday I was surprised how many body parts and items of clothing he knew from playing with the Mister Potato Head parts. He knew shoes and hats, arms and hands, eyes, noses, mouths and teeth. But he didn't know what one item was. I took it and said "mustache" and showed him where it went on my face. He spent the next several minutes trying to say the word and alternating putting it on my face and his face. When daddy came home later, he showed him too. The real test will be when we see someone with a mustache in the future and he recognizes it.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Aside from solving the crawling problem, she's been doing well. So well, that we take her into restaurants and sit her in a high chair now. She loves to sit up, bang on the table and watch everything happening. She far prefers that to sitting in the car seat in a chair the whole meal. So it's new car seat time. We're not sure if we're upgrading him and passing down to her, or getting one similar to his convertible that she can use. I see shopping in our new future. I am betting my husband has a coupon.
Running Update: Pushing through the park. There's a run/bike path my husband and I like to go around in the large, natural park across the street. I have been in there with the double stroller before, casually walking with a friend, and my running partner said she'd be up for doing a brisk walk with the kids some day so I thought I'd try it out. Bad decision. The 5.6 mile walk was tough on two children who didn't want to spend an hour-and-a-half in their stroller in the middle of the hot summer. I brought food and beverages for them but that won't fix a messy diaper in the case of my daughter and they didn't enjoy miles of rocky, bumpy stroller time in the muggy heat. From a workout perspective, pushing a double stroller up a rocky incline was great, if slow. In order to make it home faster I ended up running some of the more groomed, downhill areas. Everyone was happy when we got back to the house.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Blog Catch-up Challenge
Once a day I come down to the computer and write up a blog post. But more than once a day, typically, I have an idea for a blog post. Schedules and general lack of time and I don't have the chance to get to everything I've considered writing about written. I have a file I keep the ideas in and if there's a day I'm not sure what to write about, I grab a topic from there.
But the topics file gets more pruning than posting. So I'm going to try and write only one paragraph about some topics today and see how far I get.
One meal can not make you fat. It's true. If you have to eat 3500 calories less in a week than what you burn, you would have to overeat by 3500 calories in a day to put on a pound of fat. And that's assuming your body would know what to do with a massive influx of calories and could efficiently turn it all into fat in a day. But thinking it's okay to overeat on this one meal can be dangerous if you continue to talk yourself into overeating regularly.
Don't confuse weight loss with water loss. Go running in the heat. Then take a nice shower. Then weigh yourself. I can easily lose over two pounds from sweating and exercising. And while that number on the scale looks very favorable, I have to remind myself that weight loss is an entirely different thing from water loss. Running hard, for over an hour, is only about 1/7th a pound in fat burned from a calorie standpoint. So don't be fooled. But don't stop exercising.
Zumba calorie crazyness. My sister-in-law said her Zumba teacher told them she burned over 1400 calories in a Zumba hour-long workout. I was skeptical. Go look at metabolic equivalent tables for how vigorous an activity must be and how much oxygen you need to be consuming in order to burn specific amounts of calories. I waited until I had done the hour's class because maybe this Zumba exercise was just crazy difficult. At the end though, I would compare it to a very easy run. Great workout, but if my hour of running nets me 450 calories and I'm drenched and breathless, Zumba wasn't going to double or tripple the workout value. Then I came home and did a Zumba workout on the XBox for over an hour. At the end, it reported I had burned 1388 calories. I suppose I dislike this because I believe it to be misinformation that doesn't give people an accurate value on what they've accomplished. Hopefully people aren't out eating cheeseburgers to celebrate their massive caloric burn and get discouraged because they don't lose weight.
Farsighted/Nearsighted and Thermostats. Why is it so common that we can't remember if farsighted means you can see far or if that's what you can't see? My husband and I were talking about that the other day and it just seems like something people commonly know, forget, try and remember and then get confused with the terminology. We compared it to "Turn the AC up please" and how that means two things, turn it up as in more cooling power or turn it up as in a higher temperature so less cooling power. For a language with so many words, we still manage to get ourselves confused using English sometimes.
I feel the pain. When my son started walking he was unstable as all babies are initially. I would cringe as I saw him lunge forward, destined to fall every next step and smear his face all over the concrete. As a parent, I've experienced every injury my children have had physically, via an adrenaline jolt. When he would fall I'd feel the pain via tingles in my arms as I was bracing for the fall or hit or smash but I had no control over it. I think it's getting better now. Am I becoming used to the falls and injuries?
"Fool! Don't you know women can make themselves look thin through fashion?" This was a line I read a while back, while dieting, and it not only made me laugh, I realized it was true. I have clothes now that make me look very thin and I have other clothes that make me look just normal. It's lots of fun to wear something that matches your mood. While I was dieting, I was looking forward to finding some "fashion" that I'd look thin in.
Belief if not a binary state. That was a quote in the book I'm currently reading. My initial reaction was that this statement is completely wrong. But as the author went on, I understood what he meant. There are degrees of believing something. For example, I believe cake to be delicious. But feed me nothing but cake for the next month and I might reflect that I believe cake to be delicious in the right situations, and the right quantity. Some beliefs can be absolute, sure. But I'm going to think a little more in-depth now when I say "I believe..." something.
Dinner on the fourth, thanks Daddy. My husband makes a great dinner. And he's always ready to have more over. Yesterday, on the fourth of July, he had planned to make a nice steak dinner for his parents, the children and us. My friend wanted to come get rocks and I asked him if I could invite her to dinner. "Sure" he says. "We have enough." Then our best friend, Uncle Jonathan, texted that he might leave the pool party early and were we doing anything? I asked my husband and family again and they said, "tell him to come for dinner!" We had a great meal, because my husband always makes it work. This time, he gets a special thanks because he had to make dinner completely, without power as the thunderstorm left us in the steamy, sweltering July heat for hours. Go daddy!
But the topics file gets more pruning than posting. So I'm going to try and write only one paragraph about some topics today and see how far I get.
One meal can not make you fat. It's true. If you have to eat 3500 calories less in a week than what you burn, you would have to overeat by 3500 calories in a day to put on a pound of fat. And that's assuming your body would know what to do with a massive influx of calories and could efficiently turn it all into fat in a day. But thinking it's okay to overeat on this one meal can be dangerous if you continue to talk yourself into overeating regularly.
Don't confuse weight loss with water loss. Go running in the heat. Then take a nice shower. Then weigh yourself. I can easily lose over two pounds from sweating and exercising. And while that number on the scale looks very favorable, I have to remind myself that weight loss is an entirely different thing from water loss. Running hard, for over an hour, is only about 1/7th a pound in fat burned from a calorie standpoint. So don't be fooled. But don't stop exercising.
Zumba calorie crazyness. My sister-in-law said her Zumba teacher told them she burned over 1400 calories in a Zumba hour-long workout. I was skeptical. Go look at metabolic equivalent tables for how vigorous an activity must be and how much oxygen you need to be consuming in order to burn specific amounts of calories. I waited until I had done the hour's class because maybe this Zumba exercise was just crazy difficult. At the end though, I would compare it to a very easy run. Great workout, but if my hour of running nets me 450 calories and I'm drenched and breathless, Zumba wasn't going to double or tripple the workout value. Then I came home and did a Zumba workout on the XBox for over an hour. At the end, it reported I had burned 1388 calories. I suppose I dislike this because I believe it to be misinformation that doesn't give people an accurate value on what they've accomplished. Hopefully people aren't out eating cheeseburgers to celebrate their massive caloric burn and get discouraged because they don't lose weight.
Farsighted/Nearsighted and Thermostats. Why is it so common that we can't remember if farsighted means you can see far or if that's what you can't see? My husband and I were talking about that the other day and it just seems like something people commonly know, forget, try and remember and then get confused with the terminology. We compared it to "Turn the AC up please" and how that means two things, turn it up as in more cooling power or turn it up as in a higher temperature so less cooling power. For a language with so many words, we still manage to get ourselves confused using English sometimes.
I feel the pain. When my son started walking he was unstable as all babies are initially. I would cringe as I saw him lunge forward, destined to fall every next step and smear his face all over the concrete. As a parent, I've experienced every injury my children have had physically, via an adrenaline jolt. When he would fall I'd feel the pain via tingles in my arms as I was bracing for the fall or hit or smash but I had no control over it. I think it's getting better now. Am I becoming used to the falls and injuries?
"Fool! Don't you know women can make themselves look thin through fashion?" This was a line I read a while back, while dieting, and it not only made me laugh, I realized it was true. I have clothes now that make me look very thin and I have other clothes that make me look just normal. It's lots of fun to wear something that matches your mood. While I was dieting, I was looking forward to finding some "fashion" that I'd look thin in.
Belief if not a binary state. That was a quote in the book I'm currently reading. My initial reaction was that this statement is completely wrong. But as the author went on, I understood what he meant. There are degrees of believing something. For example, I believe cake to be delicious. But feed me nothing but cake for the next month and I might reflect that I believe cake to be delicious in the right situations, and the right quantity. Some beliefs can be absolute, sure. But I'm going to think a little more in-depth now when I say "I believe..." something.
Dinner on the fourth, thanks Daddy. My husband makes a great dinner. And he's always ready to have more over. Yesterday, on the fourth of July, he had planned to make a nice steak dinner for his parents, the children and us. My friend wanted to come get rocks and I asked him if I could invite her to dinner. "Sure" he says. "We have enough." Then our best friend, Uncle Jonathan, texted that he might leave the pool party early and were we doing anything? I asked my husband and family again and they said, "tell him to come for dinner!" We had a great meal, because my husband always makes it work. This time, he gets a special thanks because he had to make dinner completely, without power as the thunderstorm left us in the steamy, sweltering July heat for hours. Go daddy!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
The Blackberry Disillusionment
I love blackberries. I grew up eating them. My mother worked at a college and I would go to the campus in the summers when school was out and have lots of fun doing all sorts of fun things while she was at work. One of the things I loved to do in the summer was pick blackberries.
The blackberry bushes at the college grew and spread over time. Initially, you had to know where they were down a back road. There weren't that many of them, but there were enough for an industrious child to be occupied for long periods of time searching for enough berries to pick and bring home. Over the years, the bushes spread to other areas of the college that weren't as meticulously maintained and they were allowed to flourish. I loved coming home with a large container of fresh berries.
Blackberries are a dangerous berry to pick though. The bushes are some of the gnarliest, thorn-ridden, densest shrubs I've ever encountered. I think as a child my nerve endings were less sensitive because I went picking in just regular summer clothes. As I got older, I would go picking in jeans, long-sleeve shirts and sometimes gardening gloves. And even then, a decent portion of the time seemed to be spent in untangling yourself, your clothes, and your hair from snagging, grabbing branches. But somehow, I managed it.
Last year, I noticed we had a small blackberry bush in the empty lot next door. I was hoping there would be plenty of berries to pick from it this year, but the lot was bought and cleared before the berries could mature. There was good news though. Last year's seeds must have been deposited down the hill just below our house as a large bush complex had sprouted. The area is in full sun all day long so the bush grew rapidly. There were lots of blackberries on it when I looked the other day.
Today I went in, in my panoply of full-blackberry gear, to get some of those blackberries. I brought my clippers so I could clear as necessary to get to the deep areas of the bush. That's when I realized my memories and expectations of blackberry picking had changed.
First, it's hot as hell in July and I'm in fall clothing, sweating and rapidly diminishing my hydration level. Second, there are seventy-eight times more thorns in blackberry bushes than I remembered. This has to be a thorn-anomaly or some sort of genetically engineered killer bush. Third, where were all the large, luscious, juicy berries? There were small and medium-sized berries, but nothing like those bulbous, gushing blackberries I see at the store.
So I kept trimming the bush, picking the few blackberries that seemed worthy of the bucket and getting poked through my heavy clothing and I thought about what had changed. Today I can go buy blackberries that are perfect in every way—better than perfect visually. And the process is easy. I just wait until I see them in the store and then I put them in the cart and buy them. When I was young, it was an adventure. It was okay that most of the berries were small and not quite ripe. I was out foraging. And it was fun.
As I climbed back up the hill I ate some of the blackberries and I was taken back to my childhood. The flavor of those wild blackberries, each different, some tart, some sweet, some bitter even, was different than the perfect store-bought ones. They were somehow better.
The Big Boy Update: Massive Mud. My friend wanted to collect some rocks for her backyard and she knew several lots had been cleared for construction in our neighborhood. She came over today and we went through two lots, bringing rocks back to our house to clean so she could take them home. My son wanted to join in the fun. Did I mention it was raining fairly hard and we were walking around in mud? He started out clean and ended up mud. All boy and all mud. He had a tremendous time.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Up and down the ottoman. She is getting good at pulling up on the ottoman. Now that she's more vertical both from sitting and standing, I'm starting to put her in the little dresses we were given as baby gifts. She looks like a mini little girl standing up in her tiny dress.
The blackberry bushes at the college grew and spread over time. Initially, you had to know where they were down a back road. There weren't that many of them, but there were enough for an industrious child to be occupied for long periods of time searching for enough berries to pick and bring home. Over the years, the bushes spread to other areas of the college that weren't as meticulously maintained and they were allowed to flourish. I loved coming home with a large container of fresh berries.
Blackberries are a dangerous berry to pick though. The bushes are some of the gnarliest, thorn-ridden, densest shrubs I've ever encountered. I think as a child my nerve endings were less sensitive because I went picking in just regular summer clothes. As I got older, I would go picking in jeans, long-sleeve shirts and sometimes gardening gloves. And even then, a decent portion of the time seemed to be spent in untangling yourself, your clothes, and your hair from snagging, grabbing branches. But somehow, I managed it.
Last year, I noticed we had a small blackberry bush in the empty lot next door. I was hoping there would be plenty of berries to pick from it this year, but the lot was bought and cleared before the berries could mature. There was good news though. Last year's seeds must have been deposited down the hill just below our house as a large bush complex had sprouted. The area is in full sun all day long so the bush grew rapidly. There were lots of blackberries on it when I looked the other day.
Today I went in, in my panoply of full-blackberry gear, to get some of those blackberries. I brought my clippers so I could clear as necessary to get to the deep areas of the bush. That's when I realized my memories and expectations of blackberry picking had changed.
First, it's hot as hell in July and I'm in fall clothing, sweating and rapidly diminishing my hydration level. Second, there are seventy-eight times more thorns in blackberry bushes than I remembered. This has to be a thorn-anomaly or some sort of genetically engineered killer bush. Third, where were all the large, luscious, juicy berries? There were small and medium-sized berries, but nothing like those bulbous, gushing blackberries I see at the store.
So I kept trimming the bush, picking the few blackberries that seemed worthy of the bucket and getting poked through my heavy clothing and I thought about what had changed. Today I can go buy blackberries that are perfect in every way—better than perfect visually. And the process is easy. I just wait until I see them in the store and then I put them in the cart and buy them. When I was young, it was an adventure. It was okay that most of the berries were small and not quite ripe. I was out foraging. And it was fun.
As I climbed back up the hill I ate some of the blackberries and I was taken back to my childhood. The flavor of those wild blackberries, each different, some tart, some sweet, some bitter even, was different than the perfect store-bought ones. They were somehow better.
The Big Boy Update: Massive Mud. My friend wanted to collect some rocks for her backyard and she knew several lots had been cleared for construction in our neighborhood. She came over today and we went through two lots, bringing rocks back to our house to clean so she could take them home. My son wanted to join in the fun. Did I mention it was raining fairly hard and we were walking around in mud? He started out clean and ended up mud. All boy and all mud. He had a tremendous time.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Up and down the ottoman. She is getting good at pulling up on the ottoman. Now that she's more vertical both from sitting and standing, I'm starting to put her in the little dresses we were given as baby gifts. She looks like a mini little girl standing up in her tiny dress.
This Is A Potty Post
See, you've been warned if you don't want to hear about all things potty. If you want to make sure you don't get stuck with a mental image of small children trying to understand why they're being asked to sit naked on a small plastic seat with a big hole in it, then you should just move on to tomorrow's post, provided tomorrow has arrived and I've gotten round to posting.
My daughter continues to excel at potty time. In fact, if you take her diaper off and don't take her to the potty now, you're liable to need to change a wet changing mat in short order. At less than eight months, I don't know that she is making a decision to go or if she just has an association with diaper removal and being sat on the potty.
My son, however, has a whole different outlook on the potty. He likes the potty. He likes to look at books on the potty, and he is very fond of "checking himself out" on the potty and sticking his hand into the potty between his legs to see if anything has happened. So perhaps it's a good thing that he's not been that successful in making "deposits" at this point.
He has had some success, going to the bathroom in the bathroom. But he likes to be standing up. This puts me in a heightened state of awareness when he stands up from the potty to go and get another book because is he getting a book, or is he heading off to the corner to go?
He likes to take the insert out of the potty and dump it into the toilet. He's seen this done a lot with his sister and he is interested in the whole process. Last night, I saw him straining and decided it was a great time to wait it out with him with the door shut in the bathroom.
Pants off, he complained about sitting on the potty because all of his productions require standing up and arching his back. I got him down several times and somewhat interested in a book. He stood up in a bit, and took the book with him. Just a bit later he put the book down, picked up the potty insert and tried to dump it. I explained that it was empty. Then I realized that it wasn't empty to him as he had just peed on the floor while looking at the book standing up. Do I count that as a partial victory?
After that the straining continued and I kept forcing him to sit down. It's so hard to explain how this will be easier in a different position that facilitates passing solids to a child with a very limited vocabulary at eighteen months old.
In the end, we were successful. I think he was pleased he got something into the potty. We dumped and flushed together. And then he flushed two more times because flushing is fun. But did the message get across that going on the potty is a good thing? We shall see.
The Big Boy Update: Fourth of July fun. He's in the back yard now talking with daddy, Nana and Grandpa about the possibility of a swing set/play area for when he's older. I wonder what he's going to talk them into?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Where did this whine come from? She has been whiny the last few days. Usually it's food, or messy diaper, but she's needed to be soothed with a pacifier lately. And then she's serenely happy. Maybe it's teeth coming in.
Running Update: Four on the Fourth race. My first race. I didn't know how big these races were. There were 900 people racing and it was more fun and more challenging than I anticipated. Running with other people helps to push you. I ran my fastest mile ever and the best time I've ever done on four miles at a bit over 39 minutes. I'm glad my mother-in-law insisted she come along because she got pictures of my friend and me before and after the race. So much fun.
My daughter continues to excel at potty time. In fact, if you take her diaper off and don't take her to the potty now, you're liable to need to change a wet changing mat in short order. At less than eight months, I don't know that she is making a decision to go or if she just has an association with diaper removal and being sat on the potty.
My son, however, has a whole different outlook on the potty. He likes the potty. He likes to look at books on the potty, and he is very fond of "checking himself out" on the potty and sticking his hand into the potty between his legs to see if anything has happened. So perhaps it's a good thing that he's not been that successful in making "deposits" at this point.
He has had some success, going to the bathroom in the bathroom. But he likes to be standing up. This puts me in a heightened state of awareness when he stands up from the potty to go and get another book because is he getting a book, or is he heading off to the corner to go?
He likes to take the insert out of the potty and dump it into the toilet. He's seen this done a lot with his sister and he is interested in the whole process. Last night, I saw him straining and decided it was a great time to wait it out with him with the door shut in the bathroom.
Pants off, he complained about sitting on the potty because all of his productions require standing up and arching his back. I got him down several times and somewhat interested in a book. He stood up in a bit, and took the book with him. Just a bit later he put the book down, picked up the potty insert and tried to dump it. I explained that it was empty. Then I realized that it wasn't empty to him as he had just peed on the floor while looking at the book standing up. Do I count that as a partial victory?
After that the straining continued and I kept forcing him to sit down. It's so hard to explain how this will be easier in a different position that facilitates passing solids to a child with a very limited vocabulary at eighteen months old.
In the end, we were successful. I think he was pleased he got something into the potty. We dumped and flushed together. And then he flushed two more times because flushing is fun. But did the message get across that going on the potty is a good thing? We shall see.
The Big Boy Update: Fourth of July fun. He's in the back yard now talking with daddy, Nana and Grandpa about the possibility of a swing set/play area for when he's older. I wonder what he's going to talk them into?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Where did this whine come from? She has been whiny the last few days. Usually it's food, or messy diaper, but she's needed to be soothed with a pacifier lately. And then she's serenely happy. Maybe it's teeth coming in.
Running Update: Four on the Fourth race. My first race. I didn't know how big these races were. There were 900 people racing and it was more fun and more challenging than I anticipated. Running with other people helps to push you. I ran my fastest mile ever and the best time I've ever done on four miles at a bit over 39 minutes. I'm glad my mother-in-law insisted she come along because she got pictures of my friend and me before and after the race. So much fun.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
I Don't Know, But I Do Have An Opinion
I caught myself saying that during a conversation at dinner tonight. I don't even remember what the question was because as soon as the words came out of my mouth I was too busy reflecting on what I'd just said.
If I don't know something, how do I possess enough information to have a reasonable opinion? Isn't that just like saying, "I haven't a clue, but I'll tell you my uninformed opinion as though it were confirmed fact." And yet that's what people, including me, do all the time. It reminds me of a Robert Heinlein quote I think of from time to time when I catch myself stating that I absolutely, positively know something:
We define thinking as integrating data and arriving at correct answers. Look around you. Most people do that stunt just well enough to get to the corner store and back without breaking a leg. If the average man thinks at all, he does silly things like generalizing from a single datum. He uses one-valued logics.
I think of this quote when I catch myself, usually in the middle of defending my "factual opinion," trying to remember where I heard that piece of information. Was it a reliable source? Was it gossip that someone told me they saw on a television show? Did I know this "fact" I was discussing at length from reasonable research from reliable sources, or did my side of the argument just sound better to me?
Over the years I have realized so many times that the ubiquitous "they" as in, "they say..." isn't usually or even frequently correct. In my struggle to improve myself, this is one of the things I continue to work on. It's a slippery slope I slide back down on a regular basis.
The Big Boy Update: Blowing Bubbles. We took him to the pool today and I spoke with a gentleman about getting a few swimming lessons for my son so we could make sure we were starting off right to keep him loving the water. He said the first lessons are to help the parents know what to do and not do to encourage a toddler. My mother-in-law tried to teach him to blow bubbles under water after that and he had a splendid time puttering around in the pool and making flubbing, spitting, burbling noises into the water.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Standing up in the crib, and on the ottoman, and pulling up, and cruising. All in one day. I came upstairs yesterday morning and she was standing up in the crib. So the crib platform got lowered later that afternoon. She spent lots of time pulling up, sometimes by herself and sometimes with help to a standing position on the ottoman and then stood there for a long time and even tried to move sideways with small steps. What's next week, cartwheels?
Running Update: Four on the Fourth. I'm running in a four mile race tomorrow on the Fourth of July. I won't be racing, but I will be trying to run at a faster pace than I normally run. My friend who got me started running will be in the race too. My first race. It should be fun. And hot.
If I don't know something, how do I possess enough information to have a reasonable opinion? Isn't that just like saying, "I haven't a clue, but I'll tell you my uninformed opinion as though it were confirmed fact." And yet that's what people, including me, do all the time. It reminds me of a Robert Heinlein quote I think of from time to time when I catch myself stating that I absolutely, positively know something:
We define thinking as integrating data and arriving at correct answers. Look around you. Most people do that stunt just well enough to get to the corner store and back without breaking a leg. If the average man thinks at all, he does silly things like generalizing from a single datum. He uses one-valued logics.
I think of this quote when I catch myself, usually in the middle of defending my "factual opinion," trying to remember where I heard that piece of information. Was it a reliable source? Was it gossip that someone told me they saw on a television show? Did I know this "fact" I was discussing at length from reasonable research from reliable sources, or did my side of the argument just sound better to me?
Over the years I have realized so many times that the ubiquitous "they" as in, "they say..." isn't usually or even frequently correct. In my struggle to improve myself, this is one of the things I continue to work on. It's a slippery slope I slide back down on a regular basis.
The Big Boy Update: Blowing Bubbles. We took him to the pool today and I spoke with a gentleman about getting a few swimming lessons for my son so we could make sure we were starting off right to keep him loving the water. He said the first lessons are to help the parents know what to do and not do to encourage a toddler. My mother-in-law tried to teach him to blow bubbles under water after that and he had a splendid time puttering around in the pool and making flubbing, spitting, burbling noises into the water.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Standing up in the crib, and on the ottoman, and pulling up, and cruising. All in one day. I came upstairs yesterday morning and she was standing up in the crib. So the crib platform got lowered later that afternoon. She spent lots of time pulling up, sometimes by herself and sometimes with help to a standing position on the ottoman and then stood there for a long time and even tried to move sideways with small steps. What's next week, cartwheels?
Running Update: Four on the Fourth. I'm running in a four mile race tomorrow on the Fourth of July. I won't be racing, but I will be trying to run at a faster pace than I normally run. My friend who got me started running will be in the race too. My first race. It should be fun. And hot.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Coupon Cynic
I'm a coupon cynic. I know, I know, I said only positive thoughts here. But I've just got to get it out. I dislike coupons. Let me tell you why...
It's not that I don't like saving money. I love saving money. What I don't like is any form of coercion that would make me buy a product just because that product might be "on sale" or I might have "a good deal with this coupon."
Coupons today with our rewards cards and electronic tracking are highly targeted. They are good at sending you in the direction of the exact product they want you to try or buy. I dislike having my selection of consumer products based on what I might be saving. I'd rather make product choices based on quality, flavor, suitability, packaging, availability and base price among other things.
Here's an example from last year that is a classic reason why I hate coupons. I wanted to get some chocolate for our candy bowl we keep out on the counter. The contents of the bowl change with the seasons. I think it was getting close to Halloween because about that time of year I get interested in chocolate.
"I'm going to get some chocolate when I get groceries, " I said to my husband. He told me he had a coupon. Chocolate can be expensive so I took it with me. After ten minutes searching the whole chocolate area in the store I gave up and came home.
First, it could only be Hershey's chocolate. Not Mars, Not Nestle. Then it had to be a bag that was at least ten ounces. And it had to be "fun size" items, not "snack size." In the entire time I was there I found exactly one bag that met all the criteria. It was a bag that items I didn't even want. And I definitely didn't want to buy two bags so I could get a discount on the second bag. I chucked the coupon in the cart and got the chocolate I wanted in the first place.
That's what coupons can do to you. The smell of a deal can be so intoxicating that the result may not even be what you most wanted or even the best cost. Saving 20% on something with a coupon isn't saving if you spent the 80% and you didn't even need the thing in the first place.
We have some coupon rules we like to follow to make sure we're not getting intoxicated by the potential savings coupons can offer. First, the coupons are for things we would have purchased in the first place. Second, the coupons don't force us to by more of an item than we would buy or a different offering of the item (packaging or quantity.) And third, the coupon is for something we'd buy now, not something we might possibly use in eight months so let's hurry up and spend the money today because, hey, coupon!
My husband's very organized with his coupon book he remembers to use them and we do save money regularly with coupons. But he never brings home Random Condiment X because, "It was on sale and I had a coupon!" That fun is for the coupon fanatics, thanks, I'll pass.
The Big Boy Update: On the bed. Oh dear, he can get onto the bed now. There's a little stool he's always loved that's there so the dog can hop up on the bed at night and he likes to carry the stool around and stand on the stool and look onto the bed. Now he can get on the bed via the stool. That would be okay if he knew he needed to not romp, bounce, flail, and generally almost fall off the bed in excitement once he gets up. I fear there will be a thud and tears emanating from the bedroom sometime soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: No bibs. My son spit up so badly we changed bibs on him once an hour at minimum. My daughter is a tidier, cleaner baby. She very rarely spits up anything. Even drinking her bottle she doesn't dribble too much. And more amazingly, she can wear an outfit for a whole day. My son wore so many outfits due to food mishaps. She looks so cute without a bib on her, covering up the cute front of whatever onesie she's wearing.
It's not that I don't like saving money. I love saving money. What I don't like is any form of coercion that would make me buy a product just because that product might be "on sale" or I might have "a good deal with this coupon."
Coupons today with our rewards cards and electronic tracking are highly targeted. They are good at sending you in the direction of the exact product they want you to try or buy. I dislike having my selection of consumer products based on what I might be saving. I'd rather make product choices based on quality, flavor, suitability, packaging, availability and base price among other things.
Here's an example from last year that is a classic reason why I hate coupons. I wanted to get some chocolate for our candy bowl we keep out on the counter. The contents of the bowl change with the seasons. I think it was getting close to Halloween because about that time of year I get interested in chocolate.
"I'm going to get some chocolate when I get groceries, " I said to my husband. He told me he had a coupon. Chocolate can be expensive so I took it with me. After ten minutes searching the whole chocolate area in the store I gave up and came home.
First, it could only be Hershey's chocolate. Not Mars, Not Nestle. Then it had to be a bag that was at least ten ounces. And it had to be "fun size" items, not "snack size." In the entire time I was there I found exactly one bag that met all the criteria. It was a bag that items I didn't even want. And I definitely didn't want to buy two bags so I could get a discount on the second bag. I chucked the coupon in the cart and got the chocolate I wanted in the first place.
That's what coupons can do to you. The smell of a deal can be so intoxicating that the result may not even be what you most wanted or even the best cost. Saving 20% on something with a coupon isn't saving if you spent the 80% and you didn't even need the thing in the first place.
We have some coupon rules we like to follow to make sure we're not getting intoxicated by the potential savings coupons can offer. First, the coupons are for things we would have purchased in the first place. Second, the coupons don't force us to by more of an item than we would buy or a different offering of the item (packaging or quantity.) And third, the coupon is for something we'd buy now, not something we might possibly use in eight months so let's hurry up and spend the money today because, hey, coupon!
My husband's very organized with his coupon book he remembers to use them and we do save money regularly with coupons. But he never brings home Random Condiment X because, "It was on sale and I had a coupon!" That fun is for the coupon fanatics, thanks, I'll pass.
The Big Boy Update: On the bed. Oh dear, he can get onto the bed now. There's a little stool he's always loved that's there so the dog can hop up on the bed at night and he likes to carry the stool around and stand on the stool and look onto the bed. Now he can get on the bed via the stool. That would be okay if he knew he needed to not romp, bounce, flail, and generally almost fall off the bed in excitement once he gets up. I fear there will be a thud and tears emanating from the bedroom sometime soon.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: No bibs. My son spit up so badly we changed bibs on him once an hour at minimum. My daughter is a tidier, cleaner baby. She very rarely spits up anything. Even drinking her bottle she doesn't dribble too much. And more amazingly, she can wear an outfit for a whole day. My son wore so many outfits due to food mishaps. She looks so cute without a bib on her, covering up the cute front of whatever onesie she's wearing.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Words He Does Not Say
My son is picking up new words every day. He knows body parts and names for all sorts of things we didn't realize he knew until he suddenly demonstrates he knows them. At eighteen months you'd think he'd know, "momma" and "daddy" but he's only getting there now.
We say the words all the time. But he doesn't call our names or refer to us. He also never says his own name. He says his sister's name a lot and the dog is pointed out without fail, but for some reason we just don't rate as parents in his vocabulary.
About two weeks ago he started saying, "daddy" somewhat regularly in direct relation or to my husband. As far as "momma," he says, "ma ma ma ma" a lot, but not in any particular direction. Every time he said it I'd say, "yes, what do you need?"
Yesterday was the first time he very clearly demonstrated he knew who I was. He was busy with one of his most enthusiastic fetishes, shoes. He had found my shoes. He brought one over to me and said, "momma" as he tried to get my attention so that he could work on getting my shoe on my already shod foot.
Coincidence? I don't think so, he said it again at dinner. Maybe I will be an important part of his life after all.
The Big Boy Update: Noo dul. Aside from the "words he does not say," he picks up all sorts of words after asking you what something is. Yesterday he was playing with the pool noodles and after I told him what they were, he easily said noodle and then proceeded to dump both of them off the deck and then tell them, "bye bye."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Spirograph Girl. She does this sit, got forward, try to crawl, stand on her feet and hands, go back to sit in a rotated direction loop that makes me want to put some finger paints on her butt and hands to see if we could get a nice Spirograph pattern on the floor after she makes a full rotation of the area.
Running Update: Tenth shy of a quarter. Yesterday I got up early enough to run a full run. I got back to the neighborhood and checked the distance and I was just over six miles. I figured I could push myself to a new best distance, so I ran around the neighborhood looking at the houses under construction until I got to 6.5 miles. When I got home I realized if I had gone just one tenth of a mile more I would have made a quarter marathon in distance.
We say the words all the time. But he doesn't call our names or refer to us. He also never says his own name. He says his sister's name a lot and the dog is pointed out without fail, but for some reason we just don't rate as parents in his vocabulary.
About two weeks ago he started saying, "daddy" somewhat regularly in direct relation or to my husband. As far as "momma," he says, "ma ma ma ma" a lot, but not in any particular direction. Every time he said it I'd say, "yes, what do you need?"
Yesterday was the first time he very clearly demonstrated he knew who I was. He was busy with one of his most enthusiastic fetishes, shoes. He had found my shoes. He brought one over to me and said, "momma" as he tried to get my attention so that he could work on getting my shoe on my already shod foot.
Coincidence? I don't think so, he said it again at dinner. Maybe I will be an important part of his life after all.
The Big Boy Update: Noo dul. Aside from the "words he does not say," he picks up all sorts of words after asking you what something is. Yesterday he was playing with the pool noodles and after I told him what they were, he easily said noodle and then proceeded to dump both of them off the deck and then tell them, "bye bye."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Spirograph Girl. She does this sit, got forward, try to crawl, stand on her feet and hands, go back to sit in a rotated direction loop that makes me want to put some finger paints on her butt and hands to see if we could get a nice Spirograph pattern on the floor after she makes a full rotation of the area.
Running Update: Tenth shy of a quarter. Yesterday I got up early enough to run a full run. I got back to the neighborhood and checked the distance and I was just over six miles. I figured I could push myself to a new best distance, so I ran around the neighborhood looking at the houses under construction until I got to 6.5 miles. When I got home I realized if I had gone just one tenth of a mile more I would have made a quarter marathon in distance.
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