Saturday, November 1, 2008

NaBloPoMo (it's not dirty)

So it's November. And aside from the mindfreak brought on by the question: how in the hell did it get to be November today? this little detail of calendar page-turning means it's the beginning of NaBloPoMo (say that three times fast without sounding like a tramp!). The goal: a post a day, all month long. That's not too crazy, is it? I usually hit probably 25 days or so; this just pushes me a bit past my norm. So: onward!

My children apparently believe that they travel around wearing invisible safety harnesses. This afternoon I walked into the family room to find L, the 10-monther, sitting on top of the coffee table. She was sitting cross-legged and her bottom was actually hanging off the edge of the table. And to make it better, she was trying to get in to my sewing box, which was still out from the pom-pom embellishing of E's Halloween costume.

I didn't even know L was able to climb up on the coffee table. I pulled her off and rushed from the family room to the living room, where E, the rounding-towards-3er was yelling to me Look, Mama! She had stripped off all of her clothes and was jumping on the couch, leaning forward, holding the armrest like a pummel horse. She was getting a little braver with each jump, a little more vertical. She was nearly doing handstands.

In the time it took me to shriek, find my heart from where it had dropped through my lower torso and down into my right knee, and convince E that it wouldn't be any fun to spend a Saturday afternoon having her skull sewn together, and maybe could she not jump on furniture, or at least not do so upside-down (and naked? why the naked?) and directly over the floor lamp with the four-cornered metal base? That would be great, thanks. Maybe just a few kamikaze somersaults in front of the basement stairs or something? In that time, I turned around and saw that L had followed me from the family room to the living room. I had heard her crawling, but her new monkey skills are so new, and so stealthy, I hadn't paid enough attention to that noise, or to its abrupt stop. L had crawled her way up into the kid-sized rocking chair. That I'd seen before. But then, then, that crazy child turned around, stood up, and was shaking the bars like a jailbird. Rocking while standing. And everyone had said to me that with a first child so rambunctious, surely the second one would be mellow.

Those people? Liars.

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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You, my dear daughter, did not do these things. Your brother did them - at least daily, sometimes hourly. My advise: Practice the drive to the nearest emergency room so you know where to park. It helps when you really need to do it! And, Good Luck!
Love, Grams