Xmas Card Efforts

I've apparently missed the window of opportunity to dress Leila pretty and get her posed for a Holiday card. Perhaps she'll be into sitting still when she's closer to five or so. We captured a few shots with Santa earlier in the season, but as we were outside at night in what felt like -11 in the wind, she was fully bundled up in hat, coat and boots and that look wasn't doing it for me. I tried to get just one cute picture of her alone Saturday, but she was wired and the resulting shots looked a little like this:
There's always this one where she appears to be channeling an Olson sister hiding in mom's "Cat in the Hat" hat...

Flying in the Face of Controversy

In spite of the warnings that “early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child” I ordered the Old School vol. 1 and 2 DVDs to supplement Leila's Xmas booty. Yes, I'll enjoy tripping through memory lane with her (and I really can't wait until she's ready for the classic Electric Company DVD's - Hey You Guys! - then the Muppets, and Fraggle Rock...) so the gift is somewhat self-serving, but... ...is it wrong of me to want to engage in a little Sesame Street appreciation without the likes of Mr. Noodle?
Or his brother Mr. Noodle?
Or their sister Miss Noodle.....?

In case you missed the brouhaha, there was a NYT Mag. article a couple weeks back that raised concerns about the behaviors characters displayed in the early years. Cookie Monster affecting a pipe as Alastair Cookie then binging on said pipe along with furniture, cookies and everything in arms reach...Ernie and Bert's questionable living arrangements in a dingy basement apartment...Oscar's depression (personally, I wouldn't mind if someone slipped Dora a bit of his downer juice)...

As a parent, I do understand concerns about modeling behavior, but I also know that it's my precise job - not the Children's Television Workshop's - as a parent to tell my child that a cookie or two in moderation is fine. An entire jar finished off with a pipe and some easy chair legs is not. And quite frankly, I don't think my 2.5 year old is going to pick up on the nuances that are raising the red flags as an adult would. I can say, yeah, Ernie and Bert could be gay, or then again, they could be platonic friends trying to save on rent...My kid's not going to pick up on anything odd about their living arrangements at this age - and if and when she's ready to question it, I will appreciate having the platform for discussion. Sure, Oscar might have benefited from a Prozac, but he's a grouch - it's even part of his name in addition to his nature - we all encounter grouches and pessimists in our lives and the sooner my kid learns that different people have different outlooks on life the better she'll be able to find her way in our world. Will we be diagnosing Mr. Rogers - may he rest in peace - with OCD next and slapping warnings on his back episodes in fear of our children wanting to change their shoes and sweaters every time the enter/exit the house?

I'm not sure I credit Sesame Street for contributing hugely to my education, but it sure didn't hurt. Anecdotally, I actually watched full episodes regularly, and I am an avid reader to this day. My brother may have looked up from whatever he was building or pounding on during a commercial (well maybe PBS was commercial free in those days, point is, the program didn't keep his attention) and he was known to get by osmosing books through high school and college. He's a smart, hard-working lawyer today, but the reading bug never quite bit him as it did me. Did Sesame Street contribute, who knows...Anyway...off my high-horse now. And no, I don't plan to deprive Leila of Elmo, we're actually taking her to "Sesame Street Live: Elmo Grows Up" next week. Good times for mom and dad!

Charlie Wilson's War...

... is another movie on my long and growing holiday movie list (but who am I kidding. I may get to see one, then plop the rest in the trusty netflix queue.) It's also been on my reading list for a good long while. I get a kick out of seeing the previews regularly, because I actually interviewed for a job with the real Charlie Wilson about 4 years back (when I first decided I needed a new job - it's been a bit of an extended process here, but things are picking up - Insha'Allah as we say in Morocco.) The job ad I applied for didn't specify the employer, it was a vague legislative associate... International experience a plus... description, but when I was called for an interview, the woman told me it was at Wilson & Associates, former Congressman Charlie Wilson's organization. I mentioned to my mother that I had an interview with a former Congressman Charlie Wilson and she exclaimed "good time Charlie! You can't go to work for good time Charlie." He apparently had a bit of a reputation for booze, and women, and hot tubs and perhaps a little cocaine - back when Congress and Washington was still fun you know...I wore a fairly short skirt to my interview. It didn't work. He was impressed by my time in Morocco, but thought I didn't have enough direct Hill experience for his needs. He had an amazing office on Pennsylvania avenue filled with Afghan and Pakistani tribal swords and guns and clothing and such. Just one of my brushes with the pseudo-celebrity of the political class.

From the mouths of babes...

So I put on my hat this morning - you know, modeling good behavior for the kiddo that we wear hats when it's snowing. This is one I haven't worn yet this season. Our other cold days have been so darn windy that it would blow away, so I've only worn a knit cap. It's a striking red cloche style. Very feminine, jaunty, 1930's evoking...like something Keira Knightly would wear in Atonement (DYING to see that movie. LOVED the book. The preview alone choked me up this morning. And James McAvoy - swoon!) Or so I thought. Leila took one look at me, laughed and said "you look like the cat in the hat." Oh well. I guess entertaining my daughter has as much merit as feigning style on a wintery day.

Blue Christmas Lights

Does anyone understand them? They may or may not be linked to Hanukkah. They could be said to invoke images of peace and serenity. Some may find them soothing. But I just don't get them, really. And there are loads of them in my neighborhood to contemplate. I'm just a boring white lights girl who occasionally thinks nostalgically to those old skool, opaque multi-colored bulb lights of my childhood I guess. And we still have ghost eye decals from Halloween up on our door, so I probably don't have much room to critique.

It's Christmas Eve in Washington...

Well not quite, but for some reason that terrible, horrible, agonizing song is in my head. Seriously, I love my hometown, but that is the single worst Christmas song ever. Ever! "It's Christmas Eve in Washington - America's hometown - For it's here that freedom lives - And peace can stand her ground..." Tears her hair out....


But I do love Christmas traditions in Washington, and I'm glad to be able to discover some new ones with Leila. I'm actually just thrilled now that she's of an age where we can enjoy more of DC's cultural offerings together, because truthfully, in the midst of the daily grind, I often forget what treasures are in our backyard.


Saturday we rode the metro down to the Botanic Gardens for its annual holiday exhibit of model trains and DC's monuments in miniature flanked by foliage. The electric trains winding through tunnels and over suspension bridges were a huge hit! Though when I asked Leila that night what her favorite part of the day was, the response, without pause was "the train that we rode." Disgruntled daily metro commuter that I am, I really don't find much joy in the ride, but I do recall thinking it pretty darn swell as a kid.

And so it begins. Again.

Our lease is up at the end of February. We determined long ago that we need more space. But in addition to space, WE NEED A VERMIN FREE HOME. Yes, it's been 3-4 months now since we trapped our last mouse and I've enjoyed not having to see them dead or dying on a glue trap - the body count reached 9 from August to September - but still, I can sense them. I can even hear them from the living room when it's quiet at night rattling about in the poison under the stove. I live with the creeping feeling that I will be encountering one every time I'm the first one down the stairs to grab Leila's milk in the morning. Thankfully, as Cesar leaves so early during the week, I'm usually only first to the kitchen on the weekend, but still, I turn on every light downstairs and try to make my approach heard so that any critter that may be lurking about can scamper out of sight. It is not a fun way to exist.


I was having a bit of sixth sense that I'd face an unwelcome house guest Friday night. I was sitting on the living room floor watching Cars with Leila and I looked down to see what looked like a dropping. I said ew, Leila, don't touch that, I think it's mouse poop - she looked at it and said, I think it's a rock - I went to get a tissue and picked it up and indeed it was a pebble, so score for Leila, but I had found a true dropping a week or so before...and incidentally, the phantom "Mr. Mouse" is Leila's "notme" - any query of who spilled a bowl of Parmesan cheese on Mommy's carpet, or who took all the pictures off the refrigerator, or who spread three packs of cards out across the floor... receives an "um, I think it was Mr. Mouse."


Anyway...cut to the chase. I stagger downstairs at 7:30 yesterday morning in PJs and glasses, barely round the corner to the kitchen and see the horrific sight of a glue trap in the middle of the kitchen floor bouncing about as a little brown mouse struggles to free itself. It took me a second or two to process, but I only froze briefly in my tracks before running up the stairs to wake Cesar to deal with it. I explained the delay in retrieving milk to Leila and cowered in her room with her while he extracted the poor beastie. She didn't seem troubled in the least as she told me "I like mice. I think they're beautiful." "Yes sweetie, but only when they are outside." "Yeah, not when they're in the house, only when they are outside...." Ugh! With this cycle starting again, I'm not only on a desperate quest to find suitable housing and break our lease, but also exploring whether I'm owed damages from our property manager for post-traumatic stress!!

Oh, and I squashed two bugs in the house this weekend that looked suspiciously like stink bugs. I didn't get a whiff of anything rank, but that could have just been because my trusty swiffer/bug squasher stunned them so quickly. Get me out of here!!!