The Fabulous E Girls

Rules of Engagement

We went to see the new Muppets movie this weekend, which reminded me of a favorite family story from long ago . . . When Edie was two, maybe three years old, she was in preschool and learning all the rules needed to get along in the world: we don't hit our friends, we don't bite our friends, we don't kick our friends, etc. At a neighborhood garage sale, we picked up three tapes of The Muppet Show, which she had never seen and which I was so very eager to watch again. (Steve Martin! Carol Burnett! Julie Andrews! and more! All the coolest stars wanted to be on the Muppet Show back in the day.)

Edie watched these episodes with great interest until a Swedish Chef segment came on. As he started chasing the chicken around the kitchen with a frying pan, she sat up straight, wide-eyed, and exclaimed in an utterly indignant voice: "WE. DON'T. HIT. CHICKENS!!"

I was so very impressed that she had clearly learned the rules and even learned to extrapolate them to new situations. It's no wonder that her reports from school have always said "Edie is a pleasure to have in class."

Snowed In

We woke up to beautiful sunshine but sub-zero temperatures on Sunday after the third big winter storm of the year. I honestly don't know how many inches fell, especially since the fierce winds blew the snow into enormous drifts, so the best we can say is that we got more than a foot of snow, possibly approaching two feet. And it's only mid-December . . . I wonder how much more we are in for before winter is over!

This photo shows one drift in our backyard that is almost as tall as the girls. Others in this batch show Jim clearing out the rubble left at the end of the driveway by the plow, and our neighbor's boulevard tree and for sale sign completely buried.

We made it through the worst snow storm since the legendary Halloween Blizzard of 1991 relatively unscathed, although there were a couple of touch-and-go moments. First, I got the van stuck on an unplowed country side road while trying to pick Edie up from a birthday sleepover. While waiting for Edie's friend's dad to bring down their four-wheeler with plow attachment, the car battery decided it was too tired to start the car again. Now thoroughly stranded, I began researching tow truck options, only to have the county snow plow come through and make a path for me, at which point the van miraculously started again. I was then able to complete my drive to pick up Edie and get us back home safely.

Then, after spending the day trying to keep the drifts from overwhelming the entrances to our house, we discovered that our furnace had stopped running. Despite our effort to make sure the vent pipe didn't get buried by the blowing snow, we discovered we had been diligently clearing the hot water heater vent pipe. This is clearly a useful pipe to keep clear but it meant we neglected the furnace pipe altogether. There were a few minutes of concern when, after clearing out the snow, the furnace wouldn't restart and we were envisioning sleeping in front of the fireplace. But it did start working again and we have stayed warm since then.

We hope all of our friends, wherever you are this holiday season, stay warm and dry and know how much we miss you all!

Mom's Bad Ideas, Volume 1

Pictured here is the cover of a book I was presented with yesterday by my loving youngest daughter. She had been drawing in her notebook and kept asking me what she should draw. Apparently none of my suggestions led to any fine artwork, hence the title of this collection of drawings. I am so glad to add this finely bound volume to my library, and given how frequently Eleanor expresses dismay at my ideas, I suspect this is only the first in a long series to come.

First Snow

We woke up to a winter wonderland this morning--a wet and slushy snow covered everything overnight. Eleanor spent some time ostensibly shoveling but really just playing and getting very wet. Thankfully, Junior's new winter coat arrived just in time for this first snowfall.

Meet Junior

Say hello to the newest addition to our family, an almost three-year-old retired racing greyhound named Junior. He was known on the racing circuit as O Ya Dale (as in Dale Earnhardt Jr.) until being forced into retirement in August due to a broken leg. Many many thanks to the folks at Greyhound Pets of America-Minnesota, for their devoted efforts to foster and promote adoption for these retired hounds and for finding a dog who is such a perfect fit for us.

We hope some of you will get to meet Junior, and see what a sweet and goofy boy he is. He's pictured here with Squeaky, our originally named squeak toy. Lest this photo leads you to believe Junior is Squeaky's protector, I offer this video as evidence of his real feelings for the little elephant. When we asked the foster mom if the toy we'd picked was too small, she said no, but wondered out loud how long he'd last. She knows her dogs--Squeaky is already leaking stuffing only 24 hours after making Junior's acquaintance.

All Hallow's Eve

The girls shared the trick-or-treat rounds with their cousins again this year. Pictured here are the pirate Eleanor, zombie cheerleader Sydney, ninja Ben, and rainbow Edie. The dads played escort while the moms stayed at the house to drink give out candy.

Horse Show

Edie is about done with her first week of horse camp, something she has been looking forward to ever since she finished the program last summer. She graduated to the next level and so this year has been able to get more time in the saddle, already doing one trail ride earlier this week and slated to do another tomorrow.

Tonight was the big horse show, where she was able to demonstrate her technique: walking, trotting, and leading the horse around the barrels. She has one more show slated during the second week of camp--if you're a local and interested in attending, let me know!

Toofless

Eleanor lost her two front teeth just in time for school pictures. The pride she feels in her new smile shines through in this photo, no?

This makes four total teeth lost. She is not squeamish about wiggling and wiggling her loose teeth to help them along in their journey to tooth fairy land, but now that she has learned that the gold dollar coins the tooth fairy leaves is accepted currency at her favorite stores, I will have to be sure she doesn't start taking pliers to teeth that aren't loose yet.

How Edie Learned of Her Gangster Ancestry

Pictured here are my great-great grandparents, Carmine and Josephine Ruberto. Somewhere in that passel of kids is my great grandma Stella, whom I adored and who lived well into my late teens, leaving us with great recipes and great stories. So naturally, when Edie started a big family history and immigration project at school, I had a lot to share about our Italian side of the family.

One aspect of Edie's project is create a persona of an immigrant coming to America at the turn of the 20th century. When Edie learned that Carmine and Josephine had come over from Italy at around the right time, she decided to model her persona after Josephine.

Edie and her classmates have been working for weeks researching various countries of origin, developing family trees, writing journals, and through their schoolwork, earning passage on a "ship to America," otherwise known as a bus to another elementary school in the district, where they will be processed as newcomers to the United States. Her ship sets sail this Friday, and she has packed her belongings in a sack that I bought on a trip to Italy over twenty years ago. Included in the bundle is a red enameled teapot, passed down over the years to now sit on the stove in my mom's kitchen.

Family legend has it that Carmine used the little red teapot to pour "tea" during prohibition, in the Ruberto saloon. Located in downtown St. Paul, where the Science Museum now stands, the "Bucket of Blood" was infamous enough to get a mention in a history of the St. Paul Police Department.

We've instructed Edie to keep the family business mum, so as not to prejudice the inspectors at the elementary school Ellis Island.

Glory and Defeat at the Y

It would not surprise those of you who know me well that my kids are not natural athletes. When it comes to any physical activity, Edie and Eleanor take after Jim: they won't do anything until they are good and ready, and sure they already know how to do it. They both walked late, but when they started walking, there was none of that drunken sailor wobbling around, and very little falling down. Edie finally started riding a bike last summer (age 9), and did so without much help from me and after several summers resisting even trying. Eleanor was a swimming-lesson dropout last year (age 5), after deciding that the instructor was crazy if she thought Eleanor was going to put her face in the water.

All this means that I have learned not to push them, but I have also learned to recognize the signs that something was about to click.

And so it was with Eleanor at the YMCA pool last week. We had gotten in the habit of going to the pool on Jim's log rolling nights, giving Eleanor ample opportunity to try out dunking, floating, and paddling at her own pace. Looming large in her mind was the prize of a blue wristband, the mark of a kid who had passed the shallow-water test and was therefore eligible to swim without a parent within arms reach. She was also keen to keep up with Edie, who with her deep-water-caliber pink wristband, was urging Eleanor to pass the test so they could enjoy the waterslide together.

Last Monday night, after practicing her floating all night and with only minutes left before it was time to hit the showers, Eleanor announces she is ready to take the test. She drags me to the lifeguard to ask for her chance to demonstrate her ability to back float for 5 seconds and then front float for 5 seconds, which she ably does. She excitedly follows the lifeguard to the station to retrieve her wristband. Proud, I agree to let her take one ride down the slide before we have to go.

I watch her march up the stairs behind Edie, giving her a big thumbs up the whole way. I watch her take her place at the top of the slide, grinning. I think how proud Jim will be when he hears of her achievement, and move over to where the slide dumps out, just in case she is overwhelmed by it all and panics at the end.

And then I watch the lifeguard pull out the measuring stick, hold it up to Eleanor, and make the "this close" gesture. Who knew that passing the test was not enough? She also needs to be 48 inches tall, which she is just shy of.

I watch her march, stiff backed, all the way back down the stairs and along the side of the pool to where I am waiting. She collapses in tears. I hold her close and assure her that she will make up that lousy inch in no time, and she wails, "I'm a slow grower!!" We bundle up our things and on the way to the locker room, the apologetic lifeguard informs me that because she is under 48 inches, she needs the deep-water wristband to ride the slide. Edie promises a still sobbing Eleanor that she will help her learn to tread water so she can pass that test soon.

As we're showering and dressing, Eleanor finally calms down and remembers that in the midst of her crushing disappointment over the slide, there was a very real triumph that night. She decides to wear her wristband home to show off at school the next day.

Today, we went back to the pool for the first time since last week. All despair over the slide was gone, replaced by a pride that she didn't need a parent in the water with her anymore. I sat by the side of the pool and watched her swim and play with her sister and cousin, my heart full.