Blog rut

I have considered several, and even drafted a few, new blog posts over the past couple of weeks, but all of them seemed too heated for the blog right now. I have strong opinions on a some topics making the rounds right now, but I feel that I should not post my strong opinions on divisive issues here unless I can do so without anger (and without being judgmental). That might be difficult in these cases, so I'd prefer to just let the issues fester internally. This is why I really should keep a journal. (In fact, I have now created a "journal" label in gmail, and I'm going to try email journaling; we'll see.)

In any case, I knew things were getting bad when my sister Careen, who only recently recovered from a 3.5 month blog hiatus, remarked that it had been "a while" since I updated. Surely I could think of something not destined elicit anonymous comments that would have me scouring my statcounter log to see who posted THAT? Luckily, my child is still adorable.

Even though she's spent more of her waking (and sometimes sleeping) time screaming than not the past week or so, a lovely side effect of hand, foot, and mouth disease. Although it's not serious, sores in the mouth area do not combine well with a child who sucks her thumb for comfort (and to get to sleep, adding sleep deprivation to our list of problems). I recommend you avoid it. Of course, you likely won't be able to since, as our friends' children have discovered, a child is contagious for several days before he or she breaks out with the tell-tale rash. Good times, good times, and once again, let me apologize to last Tuesday's institute attendees for exposing your children to this virus. (Evelyn's rash started Wednesday.) We are now everyone's least favorite play date.

No wonder. See how she callously cackles as she enacts her evil plan to expose good friend Sydney last Monday?

In other musings about my child, it seems that 13 months begins the stage of tacky accessories, a stage that usually lasts until at least the mid-20s, right? How old am I? Maybe the late 20s? Evelyn got these Mardi Gras beads at Chelsea Market on Halloween, and she hasn't left the house without them since. In the morning, she digs in the toy bin until she finds them, puts them on, and then vigorously defends her sartorial choice with her greatest weapon - more screaming for anyone who tries to remove them without her permission.

Yeah, just try to take these off. You'll see. Fool.

General opinion among the over-50 set on the Upper East Side is that she will choke on them or strangle herself with them at any minute; constant parental supervision is apparently no match for these beads' cunning. Luckily, most of these women have found it in their hearts to share this fact with me, so when it happens, at least I won't be unprepared.

Let me say only this: that when we visited her pediatrician yesterday for shots, the only medical professional to weigh in so far heavily complimented Evelyn on her fashion choice without a word of reproach for me. She also explicitly expressed "complete" confidence in my parenting skills. Have I mentioned recently that I love her?

And now, the laundry list of things about Evelyn, since I am too lazy to develop any of them into full-fledged posts.

-Actually, the whole necklace thing is pretty darn cute.

-As is her current fascination with opening and shutting doors, particularly the french doors leading to her room. ("Bye." Shut. Open. "Hi." ).

-Evelyn has started repeating words a little more reliably, especially when ice cream is involved. Or cheese. I've managed to dig out versions of peekaboo, Poppa, Laurel (pretty muddled, admittedly), please, cheese, and various others. (I am now THAT mother. Ruth, you are still my hero.)

-She has also become very interested in dressing herself. Or me (particularly putting my shoes on). She goes into her drawers, pulls out a favorite pair of PJs, and entertains herself for sometimes as much as 15-20 minutes wrapping it around herself in various configurations. So far, she hasn't managed to get a single arm or leg in, but that isn't stopping her (although it has on occasion led to screams of frustration).

-Last but not least, she has become a big helper around the house. She is always willing to unload the bottom rack of the dishwasher (when the dishes are dirty, usually). Or to push the shelves back in and shut the dishwasher door (most often when I'm unloading clean dishes). She's an old hand at taking laundry out of the washers; putting it into the dryer is a bit of a work in progress. Saturday, she picked a corner to carry while John and I were moving shelves without us even asking. Monday was dusting.

And I thought I couldn't afford household help.