Unibrow & a Poop Update of a Different Variety

First, the unibrow.

I had a unibrow as a child. (Sometimes I still do when I get lazy about waxing.) I was teased relentlessly, but my mother would never let me pluck it and always said things like, "Brooke Shields has a unibrow!" Finally, when I was about 10, my sister plucked it for me when my parents were out of town.

Sophie has inherited my unibrow and I have to admit that I love it. (I know...that's probably how my mother felt about mine.) That said, I will let her pluck it when she really wants to, but I'm hoping to put that off as long as I can. So far so good, until today...

Sophie: Mom...

Me: Yeah?

Sophie: Bert from Sesame Street has a unibrow.

Me: He does.

[There is some dancing around the room while eating popcorn and then...]

Sophie: A second grader from Mrs. Schumaker's class told me that I have a unibrow.

[Oh shit.]

Me: You do, and I love it!

[long pause]

Sophie: Me too.

Phew.


And now the poop update...

This morning when KC went downstairs, he discovered that Hazel, our 14-year-old dog, had pooped in the house. Hazel has many flaws--she's covered in warts, she's very flatulent, sometimes she snaps at the children--but pooping inside is not one of them.  This is our signal that the end is near.  It's sad, but she's had a really good run of it.  Mostly I'm sad because I know the kids will be really sad.

Anyway, it was one of the only times she had ever pooped in the house that the kids witnessed so there was lots of excitement about it.

[They are upstairs looking over the banister.]

Sophie: EEEEEEWWWWW!!

Ava: Where? I don't see poop.

Sophie: See it?  Come over here.

Ava: POOP!!!!!

[Then they go downstairs to "help" KC. Of course, Sophie is back up with me in about 10 seconds.]

Ava: Hazel poop.

KC: Yeah.  She did.

Ava: Hazel didn't poop in my diaper.

She said this as if to confirm that Hazel hadn't encroached on her turf, then she promptly took a giant poop in her diaper.

The Victoria Wrap Up & Penis Envy

The Victoria Wrap Up

My favorite picture from high tea even though I have a massive head.

Sophie and I got back from Victoria last night and the trip was a major success. The only real low point was on the boat ride home. The Clipper travels through the Straits of Juan de Fuca which, we learned, can have rough waters. When we boarded, they suggested that we take anti-nausea medication as a preventative measure. I don't get sea sick, but I was worried about Sophie, so I got the meds for both of us.

I never threw up, but that was through sheer force of will. The attendants kept asking me if I was okay.  I didn't want to scare Sophie, so I said "yes." Meanwhile, I was DYING!!!! Sophie, on the other hand, was happy as a clam–chatting, singing, crawling under the table, spazzing out. It was bleak—the longest hour and a half of my life. And then it ended as soon as we passed through the straits and I was fine.

Anyway, here are two other choice moments from the trip:

On taking a nap in the afternoon...
Me: Let's go back to the room and take a nap!

Sophie: I don't want to.

Me: Really? I do.

Sophie: Mom, you don't always get what you want.

On the Fairmont...
Sophie: They really like me here.


Penis Envy
While we were away, KC was home with Ava. I know I just posted about how we're anti-nudity in our house, but when you're alone with a 2 year old, you kind of have to leave the door open when you shower. So...

[KC is in the shower and Ava comes in.]

Ava: What's that coming out of your butt?

KC: It's a penis. You don't have one.

Ava: I don't want one!

Me neither.

Our Trip to Victoria

This week is Sophie's mid-winter break which means no school. Since we don't have childcare in the mornings, I decided that it would be a good time to take Sophie on a mother-daughter trip. Somehow, she had gotten it into her head that she wanted to go to Canada to spend the 2 Canadian dollars she has, so I booked a 2-day trip to Victoria.

We took the Clipper (high-speed ferry) and stayed at the Empress Hotel (still here, in fact).  Here's a quick summary of the highlights and low points of our trip so far:

Highlights

1. Sophie is on Cloud 9. She has loved every single minute.
2. The Fairmont Gold Club. When we checked in, I got sold on upgrading to the Fairmont Gold rooms.  It was pretty cheap and includes hors d'oeuvres in the evening and breakfast in the morning.  Let me say, it is completely awesome.  Worth every penny and in the end, we saved money because Sophie ate so much at the hors d'oeuvres that she didn't want to go out for dinner.
3. High tea. Okay, it's a total rip off and the food's not good, but she loved it so much that I'm glad we did it.
4. Miniature World. This was actually really cool.

Low Points

1. She pooped in her pants three times on day 1. Not real poops, just, as she likes to say, "scrats." But we haven't had any of that in a few weeks, so I was not psyched for its return. That said, she hasn't had an accident since...yet.
2. She won't leave the hotel. Literally. She loves it so much that she doesn't want to waste her time with silly things like seeing the city. We did leave once to walk around the corner and go to Miniature World.
3. Technical difficulties. The hotel's pool is closed, they are testing their fire alarms and there's a blizzard.
4. She told me our room smells like "my bottom" (mine, not hers).
5. She told me I look like Nanny McPhee.

Getting the Bronze

I was a competitive diver in high school. It seems ridiculous now, but it's true and I was really into it. I was also kind of good and I say that with no false modesty.  I was only kind of good.  I would get very high scores for difficulty because I was willing to try crazy dives, and horrible scores for form because I am hideously ungraceful. (In fact, in every single yearbook collage there is a cutout of me flying through the air, spread-eagle, in a bathing suit...thanks Jason Lieberman.)

In my senior year, I placed 3rd at the LA city finals.  That sounds more impressive than it is.  I don't actually know how many female divers there were in LA at the time, but it wasn't thousands or even hundreds.  I'm thinking 60, maybe. And the two girls who placed 1st and 2nd were awesome—legions better than the rest of us and I never once beat either of them in any meet in 3 years. But, in my last city finals, I got a bronze medal.

Cut to 20 years or so later. Sophie is going through my jewelry drawer and sees the medal (which my mother found in an old box along with all of my report cards from elementary school and an IQ test I once took). She is very impressed, so I give her the medal which she squirrels away.

It's been months since I gave her the medal. Then, two nights ago, I'm putting her to bed and she gets very quiet and solemn. Finally, she says...

Sophie: Mom, Lucy told me that your medal is a bronze medal.

Me: That's true.

Sophie: Well, I thought it was a gold medal.

Me: Nope. It's a bronze medal.

Sophie: Well, that's third place.

Me: Right.  I came in third.

[Very pregnant pause]

Sophie: That's not so good.

And that, my friends, is how I know she is at least half Friedman.

The Meatball and the Idiot

Last night I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I made the sauce and the meatballs from scratch and did it in about 30 minutes. And it was gooooood. 

Sophie loves spaghetti and meatballs but as she was eating, she got a confused and annoyed expression...

Sophie: (holding up a half-eaten meatball speared on her fork) Look what's inside my meatball.

Me: What is it? A piece of onion?

[Note that hearing things like "look what's inside my meatball" freaks me out. I once ate a Trader Joe's burrito that was filled with dirt and ever since then I've been very sensitive about flotsam in my food.]

Sophie: Yeah.

She continued eating her meatball and then...

Sophie: What idiot put a piece of onion in my meatball?

Cry me a river, Rodney Dangerfield. No respect.

KC and I laughed because we couldn't help it.  Then I informed her that I was the idiot and that it's not nice to call someone an idiot.  Later we acknowledged that she learned that from us. "We're always calling people idiots," said KC. What are you going to do?  There are lots of idiots around, including, apparently, me.

Much later, like at 3 o'clock in the morning, KC shouted "WHOA!!!!" in his sleep and scared the crap out of me. Then I had a nightmare that I was in the Top Chef finale but couldn't get a ride to the kitchen. Then Hazel ate the toast out of my hand while I was bent over, putting a dish in the dishwasher.

Full Frontal Nudity

I have never seen my parents naked. Even though I was born in the 70s, my parents are the anti-hippies and I'm okay with that. Actually, I'm kind of grateful and their relative prudishness didn't translate into any weird hang ups in me (right?  right?).

KC and I have a semi-defined policy on family nudity. Our kids have seen us naked, but we're never going to head over to Brighton Bush with them for some nude hot spring action. When Sophie was very little, she'd get in the shower with us—KC included—until the day she said, "Hey!  You have a banana!". Then KC decided that a little privacy was in order. Sophie has learned not to barge in when he's in the shower.  Ava not so much.

I, on the other hand, have zero privacy. Maybe it's because they're girls, or maybe it's because I'm too lazy to demand it. Anyway, they see me naked on a regular basis and 99% of the time it's uneventful.  However...

(I am in my closet, putting on my bra. Ava walks in.)

Ava: (pointing) Those your boobies?

Me: Yes.

Ava: Why?

Me: Why what?  Why are they my boobies?

Ava: Why they touch your tummy?

I could go into an explanation here about childbirth and nursing, but I don't want to lay blame. That said, I'm now collecting funds for the Mara Friedman Saggy Tits Foundation.

Ava's Idea

I've fallen off the blogging bandwagon. I'm committed to getting back on, though, and this is my first step...

Today I took Sophie to the Harry Potter Exhibit at the Pacific Science Center where we were scandalously ripped off (but that's a story involving a $50 plastic wand and telling it will just make me irate. Again). On our way home, I got a call from KC who recounted a conversation he'd had with Ava. I will do my best to recreate it...

KC and Ava are in the toy section at Target. Ava is smitten with a pink tricycle.

KC: Okay...time to go.

Ava: Five more minutes!

(I wasn't there, so I can't say for sure, but KC says she repeatedly asked for "five more minutes".)

KC: Okay...time to go.

Ava: Five more minutes!

KC: No...we have to go home.

Ava: I have an idea!

KC: What's your idea?

Ava: You leave me alone.