Friday, November 20, 2009
Sorry for the long absence
Don't know when it's likely to end. There's a lot of big stuff going on right now,but not much of it is fit for public consumption. I'm hoping to get back to posting soon.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Well, Helloooooo
I have a hard time remembering when TV shows that I want to watch are going to be on. I can watch a promo for a show that I think I want to watch, I make sure to note the day of the week, time, channel...and ten minutes later I can't remember a thing. (Not that I need any encouragement to watch more TV.) So, I was very pleased that I happened to catch The Good Wife after NCIS last night. I had seen the ads and thought it looked good - Julianna Margulies, Chris Noth, what's not to love? So when it started, I thought I'd just watch the first ten minutes and see if it was worth the trouble, since I should really have been going to bed.
So, the first scene, just a longer version of the promo...press conference, cheating husband, slap, blah, blah, blah. Next scene, staff meeting, blah, blah - and then! He stands up, he turns around, our eyes meet across a crowded room. Why, I didn't know you were going to be here...It's Josh Charles, one of my oldest and most elusive celebrity crushes. It all started with Dead Poets' Society, continued with Sports Night. And then he would disappear for long periods of time, only to pop up when I least expected him...random Law and Order episodes, In Treatment, S.W.A.T. (Yes, yes, I know. S.W.A.T. Thank you, FX weekend movies.)
So, I'm hooked. :) The rest of the show was actually pretty good, too.
So, the first scene, just a longer version of the promo...press conference, cheating husband, slap, blah, blah, blah. Next scene, staff meeting, blah, blah - and then! He stands up, he turns around, our eyes meet across a crowded room. Why, I didn't know you were going to be here...It's Josh Charles, one of my oldest and most elusive celebrity crushes. It all started with Dead Poets' Society, continued with Sports Night. And then he would disappear for long periods of time, only to pop up when I least expected him...random Law and Order episodes, In Treatment, S.W.A.T. (Yes, yes, I know. S.W.A.T. Thank you, FX weekend movies.)
So, I'm hooked. :) The rest of the show was actually pretty good, too.
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Death Talk
I know I'm going to have to have this talk with Little Boy soon. There have been no major losses in our lives or anything, but when we hear the word on TV or see a frog that's been run over in the drive way, he has started to ask questions. I'm surprised at how much I've shied away from having to explain it him. I worry about scaring him and frankly, I just don't want to have to be the one to break it to him.
We went to a reunion for Mr. SiA's family recently, where Little Boy took interest not in all the relatives we had never met, but in the pinball machine in the host aunt's basement. It's not a side of the family we see often, so I guess you can't blame him.
During the visit, we ended up visiting the cemetery where Mr. SiA's father's family is buried. Some of the original founders of the town are buried there, and it was really interesting to see how they could trace their roots back so far. Little Boy was a bit confused over the purpose of both the place and our visit. We pointed to a headstone and said, "Look, this is Daddy's grandpa." He just kind of looked at us funny and wanted to know why he couldn't run all over and play. I tired vaguely to explain, but apparently I didn't do a good job. We said, "Over hear is Gram, Daddy's great-grandmother." He promptly piped up and asked, "Do you think she wants to play pinball?"
I thought my father-in-law was going to trip over a tomb stone and break his neck, he was laughing so hard.
*****
Then today, we were running errands and we passed another cemetery. Little Boy asked if we could go there. "Where?" I asked.
"That rock place. Will you and Daddy take me? I want to climb on the rocks."
Oh, dear. "No honey, that's a cemetery. They bury people there when they die. The people who loved them put the stones up as a way to remember them, so it would be very disrespectful to climb all over the rocks."
He seemed to accept this and we moved on with our errands and I thought I had gotten away with it for another day.
Then tonight at dinner Little Boy says to me, "Mommy someday I'll die and you'll go to the rock place and see my rock and know all about me."
I was appalled but I tried to stay composed and just said, "Baby, I hope that never happens," and gave him a really big hug. But of course he could tell I was upset, so he immediately grinned his little mischievous grin, and started singing, "When I die, die, die, die, die and you and Daddy come to the rock place and and I have my own little rock..."
How's that for a Death Talk? I'm dying (Ba-dum-bum) to know what he really thinks someone does when they die. There's a tiny little superstitious part of me that's a bit wigged out. At least the Sex Talk will be a piece of cake after this.
We went to a reunion for Mr. SiA's family recently, where Little Boy took interest not in all the relatives we had never met, but in the pinball machine in the host aunt's basement. It's not a side of the family we see often, so I guess you can't blame him.
During the visit, we ended up visiting the cemetery where Mr. SiA's father's family is buried. Some of the original founders of the town are buried there, and it was really interesting to see how they could trace their roots back so far. Little Boy was a bit confused over the purpose of both the place and our visit. We pointed to a headstone and said, "Look, this is Daddy's grandpa." He just kind of looked at us funny and wanted to know why he couldn't run all over and play. I tired vaguely to explain, but apparently I didn't do a good job. We said, "Over hear is Gram, Daddy's great-grandmother." He promptly piped up and asked, "Do you think she wants to play pinball?"
I thought my father-in-law was going to trip over a tomb stone and break his neck, he was laughing so hard.
*****
Then today, we were running errands and we passed another cemetery. Little Boy asked if we could go there. "Where?" I asked.
"That rock place. Will you and Daddy take me? I want to climb on the rocks."
Oh, dear. "No honey, that's a cemetery. They bury people there when they die. The people who loved them put the stones up as a way to remember them, so it would be very disrespectful to climb all over the rocks."
He seemed to accept this and we moved on with our errands and I thought I had gotten away with it for another day.
Then tonight at dinner Little Boy says to me, "Mommy someday I'll die and you'll go to the rock place and see my rock and know all about me."
I was appalled but I tried to stay composed and just said, "Baby, I hope that never happens," and gave him a really big hug. But of course he could tell I was upset, so he immediately grinned his little mischievous grin, and started singing, "When I die, die, die, die, die and you and Daddy come to the rock place and and I have my own little rock..."
How's that for a Death Talk? I'm dying (Ba-dum-bum) to know what he really thinks someone does when they die. There's a tiny little superstitious part of me that's a bit wigged out. At least the Sex Talk will be a piece of cake after this.
Will Moo Get Them Into Harvard?
Can anyone tell me why we teach our kids what animals say? Or simple easy-to-pronounce word versions of the noises animals make? Barn-yard onomatopoeias?
I don't have anything against farm animal noises, seriously, I'm just curious. I was reading a book to Baby Girl the other night about, yes, farm animal noises and I just started to wonder at what developmental stepping stone this training was supposed to provide...
I mean, think about how many children's books, games and toys revolve around this concept. The shear volume seems to suggest it must be significant in some way, doesn't it? "The cow says moo, the pig says oink, the cat says meow..." Surely this serves some purpose in developing their cognitive function, or linguistic acquisition, or fine motor skills or one of those other neuro-psycho-whatsit brain functions we're supposed to be worried about as mothers, right? I understand why we teach kids colors, numbers, letters, shapes, emotions, days of the week, etc. but, really - will they be smarter, or happier, or more accomplished because they know that a duck says "quack"?
Or is it just a hold-over from our pre-industrial, agrarian society ancestors? Or is it just because farm animals make for cute children's book illustrations? Or is it just for fun? And fun is okay. Fun is a perfectly good answer.
When I did a student exchange in France, I remember we had an entire dinner-table discussion with my host family about the differences in the words we use for the noises animals make. The French don't say "moo" or "oink." I can't remember now what they do say, but it was pretty different. We were each amused and just a tad disdainful of the other language's attempt to capture the cries of common animals. I remember my host father found "Cock-a-doodle-doo" to be particularly hilarious. It made for great cross-cultural learning and gave us all a good laugh, but I really have to wonder why we need to know this stuff.
I'm genuinely curious. Does anyone know?
I don't have anything against farm animal noises, seriously, I'm just curious. I was reading a book to Baby Girl the other night about, yes, farm animal noises and I just started to wonder at what developmental stepping stone this training was supposed to provide...
I mean, think about how many children's books, games and toys revolve around this concept. The shear volume seems to suggest it must be significant in some way, doesn't it? "The cow says moo, the pig says oink, the cat says meow..." Surely this serves some purpose in developing their cognitive function, or linguistic acquisition, or fine motor skills or one of those other neuro-psycho-whatsit brain functions we're supposed to be worried about as mothers, right? I understand why we teach kids colors, numbers, letters, shapes, emotions, days of the week, etc. but, really - will they be smarter, or happier, or more accomplished because they know that a duck says "quack"?
Or is it just a hold-over from our pre-industrial, agrarian society ancestors? Or is it just because farm animals make for cute children's book illustrations? Or is it just for fun? And fun is okay. Fun is a perfectly good answer.
When I did a student exchange in France, I remember we had an entire dinner-table discussion with my host family about the differences in the words we use for the noises animals make. The French don't say "moo" or "oink." I can't remember now what they do say, but it was pretty different. We were each amused and just a tad disdainful of the other language's attempt to capture the cries of common animals. I remember my host father found "Cock-a-doodle-doo" to be particularly hilarious. It made for great cross-cultural learning and gave us all a good laugh, but I really have to wonder why we need to know this stuff.
I'm genuinely curious. Does anyone know?
Friday, September 4, 2009
Big Changes
We leave today for some time down south with family and when we return, Little Boy starts preschool. I had been so nonchalant about the whole thing, since this program is just two mornings a week and he was in full-time daycare for over a year. I was mostly thinking about how he'll enjoy the social interaction, and how they will be better than I am about giving him an outlet for all that energy, and how it will be nice to have some alone time with Baby Girl, and (selfishly) how much I will enjoy having a few quiet hours during my week. I just assumed that he would enjoy it and that he won't be afraid or lonely or anxious.
But then Mr. SiA and I went to the Parent Orientation Night this week and I realized that my first baby is going to PRESCHOOL. Suddenly all these doubts washed over me - will he like his teacher, will she like him, will he get along with the other kids, will he have fun, will he freak out during the morning drop off, is this The Right Thing? Mostly I know it is, I know that he is more than ready developmentally, I know that I can trust God with him even when he is out of my reach, I know that God directed us to a good preschool - but this sense of nostalgia and anxiety really snuck up on me.
I think the reason it was such a shock is that Little Boy and I have not been on the best terms the last few weeks. His Three-ness has continued to be a challenge - one that I am addressing with varying levels of grace and patience, to put it mildly. We are still - STILL - struggling to get him potty-trained. Four months later. It's to the point that he will only tell Daddy (if Daddy's home) that he has pooped in his training pants. And temper tantrums. And whining. And demanding. And endless noise of all kinds (talking, yelling, car noises, animal noises, machine noises, humming, singing, jokes, sirens...). And now some serious jealousy issues with Baby Girl. I know, on an intellectual level, that he is going through a totally normal phase of development and that I am not dealing with anything that other mothers don't have to handle. But I can't say that I'm really enjoying it right now, and I walk away from many interactions with Little Boy feeling like I've failed in some way. Which is why I was surprised at how sad it made me to think of him going away to preschool in a few weeks.
Baby Girl has hit a big milestone of her own recently - she is weaned from breast feeding. I had intended to go a full year with her, but she had her own plans. She started losing interest a few months ago, and it was to the point that she wouldn't even stay latched on long enough to trigger let-down any more. On one level, I was sad to let it go - it was a sign that the end of her baby stage is coming soon, and there's no telling whether any more babies are in our future. On another level though, I was pretty happy to get that last bit of my body back. My main source of angst about her weaning comes from the fact that it happened before Little Boy is potty trained. That just doesn't seem right.
But now it's time to go get both kiddos dressed and in the car - Beach, here we come!
But then Mr. SiA and I went to the Parent Orientation Night this week and I realized that my first baby is going to PRESCHOOL. Suddenly all these doubts washed over me - will he like his teacher, will she like him, will he get along with the other kids, will he have fun, will he freak out during the morning drop off, is this The Right Thing? Mostly I know it is, I know that he is more than ready developmentally, I know that I can trust God with him even when he is out of my reach, I know that God directed us to a good preschool - but this sense of nostalgia and anxiety really snuck up on me.
I think the reason it was such a shock is that Little Boy and I have not been on the best terms the last few weeks. His Three-ness has continued to be a challenge - one that I am addressing with varying levels of grace and patience, to put it mildly. We are still - STILL - struggling to get him potty-trained. Four months later. It's to the point that he will only tell Daddy (if Daddy's home) that he has pooped in his training pants. And temper tantrums. And whining. And demanding. And endless noise of all kinds (talking, yelling, car noises, animal noises, machine noises, humming, singing, jokes, sirens...). And now some serious jealousy issues with Baby Girl. I know, on an intellectual level, that he is going through a totally normal phase of development and that I am not dealing with anything that other mothers don't have to handle. But I can't say that I'm really enjoying it right now, and I walk away from many interactions with Little Boy feeling like I've failed in some way. Which is why I was surprised at how sad it made me to think of him going away to preschool in a few weeks.
Baby Girl has hit a big milestone of her own recently - she is weaned from breast feeding. I had intended to go a full year with her, but she had her own plans. She started losing interest a few months ago, and it was to the point that she wouldn't even stay latched on long enough to trigger let-down any more. On one level, I was sad to let it go - it was a sign that the end of her baby stage is coming soon, and there's no telling whether any more babies are in our future. On another level though, I was pretty happy to get that last bit of my body back. My main source of angst about her weaning comes from the fact that it happened before Little Boy is potty trained. That just doesn't seem right.
But now it's time to go get both kiddos dressed and in the car - Beach, here we come!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Book Update
I've actually been reading a lot this summer - apparently to the point where I haven't had time to update my reading list here. I went to the library last week and now I'm reading several books at once, which is unusual for me. It's leaving me a bit scatter-brained.
I finally finished Sherlock Holmes Volume I, and am dipping into Volume II. They're in a nice short format, so it's easy to go back to when I have time. I can't say that I'm really thrilled with them. Connan Doyle is strongest in stories like "Study in Scarlett" and "Hound of the Baskervilles" where he does more showing and less telling. Sadly, most of the rest of the work seems to consist of nothing but telling: the client tells the history of the case, Watson tells of the cursory inspection of the scene (at which he really doesn't notice much), and then Holmes tells how he figured it out. With no chance for the reader to really follow Holmes train of thought before the big reveal, it's not very exciting to me.
I re-read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I'll have to remember the next time I'm at the library how much I like her and check out some of her other work. When I read this before I was mostly interested in the daughters' perspectives, but now that I'm older I was riveted by the mother's point of view. I love Kingsolver's style and attention to detail. In general, I enjoy historical fiction because I feel like I'm learning something while also being immersed in the characters' personal narratives; and that is especially true here. And I just love the women that Kingsolver writes about - they are complex and flawed and engaged with the world around them.
I also sped through a few yard sale finds: In Search of Eden by Linda Nichols and Why the Sky is Blue by Susan Meissner. Both are Christian fiction on the theme of adoption. I tend to be sceptical of Christian fiction - whether that's fair or not, I don't know. The first was good, with a well told story and three-dimensional characters. No saints, no evil sinners either. The ending was what I expected, but I enjoyed the way Nichols got me there. The second I really didn't enjoy - it was emotionally manipulative and predictable, more interested in easy moralizing than good storytelling.
I'm also back into The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters, which I started last summer. Sadly, with baby-prep, I didn't get very far with it, so I'm trying again. With Baby Girl starting solids and Little Boy only eating macaroni-and-cheese these days, I have food on my mind. I find that I've been reading and hearing a lot lately about the importance of food, both its cultivation and its preparation. On Monday I heard this interview on NPR and I also picked up French Women for All Seasons by Mireille Guiliano at the library. All touch on this topic of the link between food- how we prepare it, how we consume it - and our individual and collective health. I guess I'm a little late when it comes to climbing on the organic/locally-grown/food-loving band wagon, and I can't say I'm totally there yet. I mean, I get what they're all saying, I just find it challenging to put into practice. I frankly don't have the time or money to put into tracking down sources of organic or local raw ingredients. And frankly, if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with them. I want to know how to cook well; I admire people who do. I admire people who are passionate about food. Sadly, I don't and I'm not. I love Top Chef, which I guess proves Mr. Pollan's point from his NPR interview about how we like to watch people cooking but are not doing it ourselves. But I'm determined to get through Simple Food and see what I can pick up. I even tried out a few of the recipes on my in-laws last week. They seemed to like them, which is a good sign, since they're pretty picky. And I noticed a difference in my attitudes that really excited me - I was a lot more conscious of the choices I was making at the grocery store. Even more, when I looked in my fridge afterwards, I felt this warm glow of pride and potential as I surveyed shelves of healthy, colorful, well-chosen food instead of containers of bad left-overs and processed junk.
I got Tess of the D'Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy at the library and read the first chapter of Light in August by William Faulkner. I love Hardy already, and I'm intimidated by what I've heard of Faulkner. I'm so distracted with other books that I think I'll save these for when I can give them my full attention.
Speaking of my full attention, it's currently devoted to Surprised by Hope by N. T. Wright. This exploration of the significance of Jesus' resurrection has been working my neurons and synapses over-time this week. The author is a Cambridge professor and Anglican New Testament scholar, and my brain has gotten a serious and much needed work-out. It has really challenged me to re-examine much of what I've absorbed and been taught about Jesus's purpose and achievement on Easter. I'm almost done with it but I already know that as soon as I get to the last page I'll be starting again from the beginning and this time I'll be checking his biblical references and taking careful notes. I miss reading like this. I don't always have time or attention for it, but I really enjoy the mental push-back. It's not just intellectual interest either. The challenge to my faith and assumptions has also been welcome and needed.
Sorry, this probably could have made about 6 different blog entries. It took me 3 different sittings to finish it. Hopefully it will take me so long to finish all these books that there won't be another entry like this for a while.
I finally finished Sherlock Holmes Volume I, and am dipping into Volume II. They're in a nice short format, so it's easy to go back to when I have time. I can't say that I'm really thrilled with them. Connan Doyle is strongest in stories like "Study in Scarlett" and "Hound of the Baskervilles" where he does more showing and less telling. Sadly, most of the rest of the work seems to consist of nothing but telling: the client tells the history of the case, Watson tells of the cursory inspection of the scene (at which he really doesn't notice much), and then Holmes tells how he figured it out. With no chance for the reader to really follow Holmes train of thought before the big reveal, it's not very exciting to me.
I re-read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I'll have to remember the next time I'm at the library how much I like her and check out some of her other work. When I read this before I was mostly interested in the daughters' perspectives, but now that I'm older I was riveted by the mother's point of view. I love Kingsolver's style and attention to detail. In general, I enjoy historical fiction because I feel like I'm learning something while also being immersed in the characters' personal narratives; and that is especially true here. And I just love the women that Kingsolver writes about - they are complex and flawed and engaged with the world around them.
I also sped through a few yard sale finds: In Search of Eden by Linda Nichols and Why the Sky is Blue by Susan Meissner. Both are Christian fiction on the theme of adoption. I tend to be sceptical of Christian fiction - whether that's fair or not, I don't know. The first was good, with a well told story and three-dimensional characters. No saints, no evil sinners either. The ending was what I expected, but I enjoyed the way Nichols got me there. The second I really didn't enjoy - it was emotionally manipulative and predictable, more interested in easy moralizing than good storytelling.
I'm also back into The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters, which I started last summer. Sadly, with baby-prep, I didn't get very far with it, so I'm trying again. With Baby Girl starting solids and Little Boy only eating macaroni-and-cheese these days, I have food on my mind. I find that I've been reading and hearing a lot lately about the importance of food, both its cultivation and its preparation. On Monday I heard this interview on NPR and I also picked up French Women for All Seasons by Mireille Guiliano at the library. All touch on this topic of the link between food- how we prepare it, how we consume it - and our individual and collective health. I guess I'm a little late when it comes to climbing on the organic/locally-grown/food-loving band wagon, and I can't say I'm totally there yet. I mean, I get what they're all saying, I just find it challenging to put into practice. I frankly don't have the time or money to put into tracking down sources of organic or local raw ingredients. And frankly, if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with them. I want to know how to cook well; I admire people who do. I admire people who are passionate about food. Sadly, I don't and I'm not. I love Top Chef, which I guess proves Mr. Pollan's point from his NPR interview about how we like to watch people cooking but are not doing it ourselves. But I'm determined to get through Simple Food and see what I can pick up. I even tried out a few of the recipes on my in-laws last week. They seemed to like them, which is a good sign, since they're pretty picky. And I noticed a difference in my attitudes that really excited me - I was a lot more conscious of the choices I was making at the grocery store. Even more, when I looked in my fridge afterwards, I felt this warm glow of pride and potential as I surveyed shelves of healthy, colorful, well-chosen food instead of containers of bad left-overs and processed junk.
I got Tess of the D'Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy at the library and read the first chapter of Light in August by William Faulkner. I love Hardy already, and I'm intimidated by what I've heard of Faulkner. I'm so distracted with other books that I think I'll save these for when I can give them my full attention.
Speaking of my full attention, it's currently devoted to Surprised by Hope by N. T. Wright. This exploration of the significance of Jesus' resurrection has been working my neurons and synapses over-time this week. The author is a Cambridge professor and Anglican New Testament scholar, and my brain has gotten a serious and much needed work-out. It has really challenged me to re-examine much of what I've absorbed and been taught about Jesus's purpose and achievement on Easter. I'm almost done with it but I already know that as soon as I get to the last page I'll be starting again from the beginning and this time I'll be checking his biblical references and taking careful notes. I miss reading like this. I don't always have time or attention for it, but I really enjoy the mental push-back. It's not just intellectual interest either. The challenge to my faith and assumptions has also been welcome and needed.
Sorry, this probably could have made about 6 different blog entries. It took me 3 different sittings to finish it. Hopefully it will take me so long to finish all these books that there won't be another entry like this for a while.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Designer Baby
My mother-in-law is very sweet and never comes to visit without a bag full of cute baby clothes for the kids. She did it when it was just Little Boy, but even more so now with Baby Girl. Having only had boys herself, I think she really gets a kick out of having girls to shop for. :) She likes to shop at Marshall's. It's one of my favorite places, or used to be when I had time to pick through all their many racks of bargains. I only mention it because it means that she often shows up with "designer" baby clothes that she has found. She's not especially brand conscious; I really think she's just picking things she thinks are cute, but that's the kind of thing they have at Marshall's.
It really makes me laugh. Not at her, but at the concept of designer clothes for babies. I mean, do these designers know what babies DO in their clothes? Vomit, blow-out diapers, crawling around on the floor, etc? All those fine fabrics and trendy embellishments don't stand a chance. I end up feeling guilty when I'm wiping bodily fluids or strained vegetables off their little iconic embroidered logos.
Half the time, the clothes are really adorable, but totally impractical. Like the Calvin Klein velour track suit that Baby Girl wore this winter - turns out velour is like Velcro for all dirt she came across while learning to crawl. Or they have buttons, instead of much more useful snaps or zippers. Or they have snaps and zippers, but not in places that make it at all possible to actually dress a real-life, squirming baby. Yesterday she was in a little outfit by Ralph Lauren, which was cute and comfy and perfectly serviceable. However, it looked exactly like all of her Target or Carter's outfits except for the little embroidered polo player on the front. I shudder to think what someone paid for the full price version.
I'm very grateful for any gifts from my in-laws or anyone else, please don't misunderstand me. I'll take help with the kids in just about any form it comes. But I do worry about getting both kids sucked into any sort of snobbishness about brands. I know it will be a struggle we have to deal with eventually, but I thought we'd be able to put it off until their teenage years. I didn't think I'd have to worry about it while they were still in diapers. But I have to say, my kids sure do look cute. :)
It really makes me laugh. Not at her, but at the concept of designer clothes for babies. I mean, do these designers know what babies DO in their clothes? Vomit, blow-out diapers, crawling around on the floor, etc? All those fine fabrics and trendy embellishments don't stand a chance. I end up feeling guilty when I'm wiping bodily fluids or strained vegetables off their little iconic embroidered logos.
Half the time, the clothes are really adorable, but totally impractical. Like the Calvin Klein velour track suit that Baby Girl wore this winter - turns out velour is like Velcro for all dirt she came across while learning to crawl. Or they have buttons, instead of much more useful snaps or zippers. Or they have snaps and zippers, but not in places that make it at all possible to actually dress a real-life, squirming baby. Yesterday she was in a little outfit by Ralph Lauren, which was cute and comfy and perfectly serviceable. However, it looked exactly like all of her Target or Carter's outfits except for the little embroidered polo player on the front. I shudder to think what someone paid for the full price version.
I'm very grateful for any gifts from my in-laws or anyone else, please don't misunderstand me. I'll take help with the kids in just about any form it comes. But I do worry about getting both kids sucked into any sort of snobbishness about brands. I know it will be a struggle we have to deal with eventually, but I thought we'd be able to put it off until their teenage years. I didn't think I'd have to worry about it while they were still in diapers. But I have to say, my kids sure do look cute. :)
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