Halfway down the Danube

Time passes

Happy Birthday, my little big boy!

Single parent again

Just me and Jacob. David's in Germany with the grandparents. (He loves it. Doesn't seem to be missing us much, either.) Claudia should be landing in the US with Alan right about now. So, for the next week, it's just me and the kid. So far, so good. He clearly notices people are missing, but he seems to like the undivided attention. Domestic life posts are almost as boring as weather posts, though. So what do you guys want to talk about?

Single Parent, Day Four

We're okay.

The house is warming up. We got all the radiators put in yesterday. The new ones had a horrible chemical smell from the special paint (did you know that radiators needed special paint? Nope, me neither) but by today it had mostly passed.

The weather has been pretty miserable: snow, cold, more snow. Days are around -5 Celsius (low 20s Fahrenheit), nights get down to -10 or -12. It snows every day... not much at any time, but it adds up. I've shoveled the driveway twice, and am not sure I want to again.

Still, we're all okay. Keeping the boys in a pretty rigid routine, which helps.

Of course, now comes the weekend... two full days of unstructured time. How we'll get through this remains to me seen.

More in a bit.

Single Parent, Day Four

We're okay. The house is warming up. We got all the radiators put in yesterday. The new ones had a horrible chemical smell from the special paint (did you know that radiators needed special paint? Nope, me neither) but by today it had mostly passed. The weather has been pretty miserable: snow, cold, more snow. Days are around -5 Celsius (low 20s Fahrenheit), nights get down to -10 or -12. It snows every day... not much at any time, but it adds up. I've shoveled the driveway twice, and am not sure I want to again. Still, we're all okay. Keeping the boys in a pretty rigid routine, which helps. Of course, now comes the weekend... two full days of unstructured time. How we'll get through this remains to me seen. More in a bit.

Single Parent, Day One

So, single parenthood.

Claudia is gone for the next sixteen days. It's just me and the boys. Well, me and the boys, and Karine (who comes in the morning), Narine (who comes in the afternoons) and Xenia (the cleaning lady, three mornings a week). Cheap help: the dirty little secret of expat life. That's what makes this remotely possible.

Still, when the alarm clock goes off in the morning it's just them and me.

Single Parent, Day One

So, single parenthood. Claudia is gone for the next sixteen days. It's just me and the boys. Well, me and the boys, and Karine (who comes in the morning), Narine (who comes in the afternoons) and Xenia (the cleaning lady, three mornings a week). Cheap help: the dirty little secret of expat life. That's what makes this remotely possible. Still, when the alarm clock goes off in the morning it's just them and me.

Halloween

We went to the Embassy.

See, Armenians don't do Halloween. Have only the vaguest idea what it's all about. So if you want to bring your kids trick-or-treating... well, the US Embassy is where you go.

Now, the Embassy is a set of several large, blocky buildings set in a walled compound off the road to the airport. The general architectural style is... well, you know the Ronald Reagan Building in DC? Like that.

The way it works is, you come in through security, and inside there's a sort of campus arrangement of buildings around green space. (Maybe the campus of an evangelical engineering school, but never mind that.) Then you get a sheet of paper that tells you which offices to take your kids to. So you go from one building to another, riding elevators up and down, and stopping at offices where Embassy staff have volunteered to stay late and hand out candy.

Here's where the cognitive dissonance kicks in. At one level, this is pathetic and lame. The decorations are what you'd expect in government offices -- cardboard pumpkins, and such. The embassy employees are at best bemused. Few try to dress up; something about the office environment discourages it. The embassy compound is well-lit and not in the least spooky. There's no ringing of doorbells, no peering at dark doors. It's very bland and safe and a little sad.

At another level, it totally rocked.

The kids loved it. Loved it. David in particular was beside himself with delight. When you're three, it's all new. Wearing a cosutme! Other kids in costumes! Staying up after bedtime! People just GIVING HIM! CANDY! At one point he turned to me and said, "Daddy, I love this!" And he did.

Alan is a bit older but not old enough to be blase. He enjoyed going up and down in the elevators and looking into the different offices. He saw a lot of his friends. At the end we went to the Marine quarters and had soda and pizza in the lounge and they had "Shrek 2" on the big screen and, you know, it was all good.

And when it finally ended and we were going home, David turned to me, lower lip trembling, and said, "Daddy, I don't want Halloween to be over!"

So I guess it worked after all.

Halloween

We went to the Embassy. See, Armenians don't do Halloween. Have only the vaguest idea what it's all about. So if you want to bring your kids trick-or-treating... well, the US Embassy is where you go. Now, the Embassy is a set of several large, blocky buildings set in a walled compound off the road to the airport. The general architectural style is... well, you know the Ronald Reagan Building in DC? Like that. The way it works is, you come in through security, and inside there's a sort of campus arrangement of buildings around green space. (Maybe the campus of an evangelical engineering school, but never mind that.) Then you get a sheet of paper that tells you which offices to take your kids to. So you go from one building to another, riding elevators up and down, and stopping at offices where Embassy staff have volunteered to stay late and hand out candy. Here's where the cognitive dissonance kicks in. At one level, this is pathetic and lame. The decorations are what you'd expect in government offices -- cardboard pumpkins, and such. The embassy employees are at best bemused. Few try to dress up; something about the office environment discourages it. The embassy compound is well-lit and not in the least spooky. There's no ringing of doorbells, no peering at dark doors. It's very bland and safe and a little sad. At another level, it totally rocked. The kids loved it. Loved it. David in particular was beside himself with delight. When you're three, it's all new. Wearing a cosutme! Other kids in costumes! Staying up after bedtime! People just GIVING HIM! CANDY! At one point he turned to me and said, "Daddy, I love this!" And he did. Alan is a bit older but not old enough to be blase. He enjoyed going up and down in the elevators and looking into the different offices. He saw a lot of his friends. At the end we went to the Marine quarters and had soda and pizza in the lounge and they had "Shrek 2" on the big screen and, you know, it was all good. And when it finally ended and we were going home, David turned to me, lower lip trembling, and said, "Daddy, I don't want Halloween to be over!" So I guess it worked after all.

I love sushi

In case you didn't know, I really love a good sushi. My best friend Natalie introduced me to the money-devouring world of raw fish and I'm a lost case ever since. Our sushi outings are infamous. "We can always order more" is our credo.

Anyway, she gave me a sushi baby outfit for Jacob's birth. And I think he looks incredibly edible in it - but maybe that's just me.

See for yourself under the fold.

I love sushi

In case you didn't know, I really love a good sushi. My best friend Natalie introduced me to the money-devouring world of raw fish and I'm a lost case ever since. Our sushi outings are infamous. "We can always order more" is our credo. Anyway, she gave me a sushi baby outfit for Jacob's birth. And I think he looks incredibly edible in it - but maybe that's just me. See for yourself under the fold.

The darkest moment

Jacob has been a blessing from the day he was born. He's generally very happy, cries very little, eats well, enjoys his brothers, loves nursing, and is just all around a joy to have. I've always felt he was my reward, extra easy, to make up for all the pain we went through with Benjamin. He's also sleeping through the night. At seven months, I put him to bed at 7 pm and he goes to sleep within minutes, without any fussing. He usually sleeps until around 6 am. It's pretty much perfect timing - we can enjoy that morning cuddle and it leaves enough time to get everybody else up, dressed, fed and out of the door by 8:15. This morning was different, though. He didn't wake up and call out for his morning snack as usual. I was actually okay with that - David had been up since 4:30 and every additional moment of rest was welcome. But it was getting late and I had to wake him. So I went over to the boys' room (they all sleep in one very big room). It was very quiet. The sun had just risen and the window was open - a slight breeze moved the curtains gently. It seemed very peaceful. I walked over to his crib and was surprised to see him lie with his eyes wide open. I bent over the bed and said, "good morning, sweetie". There was no reaction.

The darkest moment

Jacob has been a blessing from the day he was born. He's generally very happy, cries very little, eats well, enjoys his brothers, loves nursing, and is just all around a joy to have. I've always felt he was my reward, extra easy, to make up for all the pain we went through with Benjamin.

He's also sleeping through the night. At seven months, I put him to bed at 7 pm and he goes to sleep within minutes, without any fussing. He usually sleeps until around 6 am. It's pretty much perfect timing - we can enjoy that morning cuddle and it leaves enough time to get everybody else up, dressed, fed and out of the door by 8:15.

This morning was different, though. He didn't wake up and call out for his morning snack as usual. I was actually okay with that - David had been up since 4:30 and every additional moment of rest was welcome. But it was getting late and I had to wake him. So I went over to the boys' room (they all sleep in one very big room). It was very quiet. The sun had just risen and the window was open - a slight breeze moved the curtains gently. It seemed very peaceful.

I walked over to his crib and was surprised to see him lie with his eyes wide open. I bent over the bed and said, "good morning, sweetie".

There was no reaction.

Alan at the Bakery

Alan has been going to the bakery to buy bread. Alone. -- Oh, the bakery is just down the street. I mean, if you stand at the end of our driveway, you could hit the bakery with a rock. And the street is not a busy street, at all. Yerevan may be a city of a million people, but our neighborhood has the look and feel of a village. There's not a lot of traffic. Kids play ball in the street, and people stroll slowly down the middle of it. Still: four years old, barely. We give him a hundred-dram coin (about a quarter) and he goes out the door and down the street. The bakery sends most of its product to stores, but there's a small window for local sales. If he stands on his toes, he can just barely reach the buzzer to summon the bakery lady. The loaf is oval and flat and usually still warm from the oven. He needs both hands to carry it. And that's all.

Alan at the Bakery

Alan has been going to the bakery to buy bread.

Alone.

-- Oh, the bakery is just down the street. I mean, if you stand at the end of our driveway, you could hit the bakery with a rock.

And the street is not a busy street, at all. Yerevan may be a city of a million people, but our neighborhood has the look and feel of a village. There's not a lot of traffic. Kids play ball in the street, and people stroll slowly down the middle of it.

Still: four years old, barely.

We give him a hundred-dram coin (about a quarter) and he goes out the door and down the street. The bakery sends most of its product to stores, but there's a small window for local sales. If he stands on his toes, he can just barely reach the buzzer to summon the bakery lady.

The loaf is oval and flat and usually still warm from the oven. He needs both hands to carry it.

And that's all.

Clowns! Elephants! No, wait - school report

In Alan's school, a liaison book is a little booklet in which the teachers record what the children have learnt or will be learning about in school. Today, I found this:

7/2/06 Alan spent a lot of time, and had a lot of fun, making simple circuits with a battery, two wires and a light bulb. Alan: How does this light go on? Mrs D: We have to make a circuit, what do you think we need? Alan: We need batteries and we need to put it together. He connects the battery to the bulb with a white wire. Mrs D: Now what do we need to do? Alan: We need to wait. He waits for a few seconds watching the light bulb. Alan: Maybe we need the red one. He replaces the white wire with the red one. Mrs D: What will happen if we use two wires? He connects another wire to the battery and bulb without help. Alan: We have made a circus! Mrs D: Well done, you have made a circuit. He continued to play for another 5-10 minutes making more circuits.

When we got home, I gave him some of the chocolate cake I had made earlier that afternoon. He sampled (he's not a cake eater) and said: "Mmmm! Mama, that is the perfect cake." You gotta love this boy.

Daddy Ravioli

You know how kids have imaginary friends? It seems a perfectly normal thing. The funniest essay I ever read on this topic was by Adam Gopnik, about his New York daughter Olivia and her imaginary friend Charlie Ravioli. (We have this essay in a New Yorker collection.)

My daughter Olivia, who just turned three, has an imaginary friend whose name is Charlie Ravioli. Olivia is growing up in Manhattan, and so Charlie Ravioli has a lot of local traits: he lives in an apartment "on Madison and Lexington," he dines on grilled chicken, fruit, and water, and, having reached the age of seven and a half, he feels, or is thought, "old." But the most peculiarly local thing about Olivia's imaginary playmate is this: he is always too busy to play with her....

It's a great essay. Read it, if you can find it. Now, my kids don't really do imaginary friends. They do imaginary monsters, oh yes. They talk with people on the phone - but those people don't have names and lives of their own. They are just people on the phone. Oh, and David likes to pretend he's a dog - or sometimes, that he's an octopus. I don't know whether that is healthy but it sure is cute. But today, today he had me worried.

Travel side effects

Doug is in Laos and Cambodia for the next four weeks, after 10 days in Kosovo and 2 short days in Bucharest. The kids are understandably confused and upset. We try to ease the pain as best as we can and we found that Skype is a great help. We can talk daily without bloodcurdling phone bills. We can talk as long as we want, the kids can talk and stop talking and run away and come back without either one of us twitching over money trickling down the drain. We even had Doug sing good-night songs to the boys via Skype. With the webcam, Doug can watch the boys during the evening routine of bath, book, brush and watch his youngest getting more alert every day. I recommend Skype to all traveling Dads and Moms. There is just one thing you have to be careful about:

Kid wisdom

When you are a single parent even the most mundane tasks can be challenging. Like, getting into the shower. This morning, I was so desperate that I took a shower while the boys were playing next door in their room. There was neither blood nor vomit on the floor when I emerged, so that went well. I could even slather myself with body lotion -- with the help of four little hands, all the while wondering whether I was just laying the groundworks for years of therapy for both of them... They also helped me blowdry my hair. Three brushes can make a lot of damage. As it turned out, they were very happy with the result. Alan looked me over and said, happily: "You look very nice now." He turned to walk out of the bathroom, stopped, came back and added: "Now you are as beautiful as your mommy." Well, good. (This is not as bad as you may think. My Mom is indeed beautiful and she has very good aging genes, meaning she looks about ten years younger than she is. And Alan loves her to bits so it's the highest compliment he can pay.)

Welcome to the world

Welcome to my brand new nephew Nicholas who was born in Germany last night, a whopping 52 cm and 3200 g -- four weeks before his scheduled due date! If he keeps this up, he'll beat the crap out of my boys in a few years. In keeping with family tradition, he's sleepy, has black hair and blue eyes, and will grow up trilingually (in his case, German, Spanish and French). Congratulations, Hajo and Maria! I could hug the entire world.

Grammar

Considering that Doug and I met over a question of grammar (vowel harmony, to be precise), it's small wonder that we take a heightened interest in the speech development of our kids. They grow up with three languages and we take more than a little pride in their being fluent in all three of them. Some observations about tri-lingual kids (findings may vary in other test subjects, of course).

Ostheim again

So we're back in Ostheim for Christmas. Long-time readers of this blog will know that Ostheim is a small town in northern Bavaria. It's where Claudia's parents live. Claudia is an important person there: her mother is the Deputy Mayor, her father was principal of the local high school. So, I am "Claudia's Mann" for the duration. Ostheim is on a little river -- a creek, really -- called the Streu (pron. "Shtroy"). It would be thematically consistent if the Streu eventually emptied into the Danube. Alas, we're just a bit too far north; the Streu flows into Saale, which flows into the Main, which flows into the Rhine.

Spiderman -- with muscles!

Here is our picture of the day. Alan in his Spiderman costume - and he's got muscles! To see a larger version of this picture, click here.

Infested

So we have this little monster infestation at our house. We have a new maid and in her "other" household, there are monsters living in the basement. She uses those monsters to threaten the kids there whenever they do something "naughty". When I first heard her do that, I told her that we don't have monsters here, and that she please shouldn't use that threat with my kids. It was too late.

It's not my lack of parenting skills!

This Warning Label Generator is making the rounds in the blogosphere. David is very much two years these days. His last tantrum lasted two hours. So, I created this label: I think I should print it on transfer paper and make a T-shirt for him. It would be an appropriate warning for innocent bystanders...

Take note!

Since we are obviously so great at blogging on a regular basis, we decided to have a photo blog as well. It's mainly intended for the family and will mostly have pictures of the kids. I do plan to have the occasional Romania picture as well, though. If you are interested, the blog can be found here.

Bruder Jacob schlft noch!

Belle mentions that her husband is in the US and she's alone with two girls. I can top that: my husband is in the US and I'm alone with three boys, one of them a newborn. AND he will come back for ONE DAY and then take off for a two-week jaunt in Kosovo, missing both my birthday and probably also Thanksgiving. I think I win that one with both hands down.

Happy Halloween

The picture you've been waiting for... Happy Halloween! (I know it's tomorrow. We are early this year.)

And back again, again

So we're back. Baby Jacob turned up with a touch of hip dysplasia. So now he has to wear a brace. (He does not like this one bit.) If all goes well, he could have it off by Christmas. Alan and David are fine. Both are still getting used to their new baby brother. It's a little stressful, having Mommy totally wrapped up in this little stranger. Broadly speaking, Alan responds to stress by getting squirrelly, while David gets very... very... stubborn. But basically they're fine. It's gorgeous, gorgeous fall weather here. Yesterday, Claudia bought a pumpkin. This afternoon, I'll come home from work a little early, and the boys and I will sit on the front stoop and carve it. Normal blogging should resume soon thereafter.

What's up, cont'd.

So now Claudia's mother is sick. This gets tricky. Alan and David are staying with Claudia's parents while Claude is stuck in the hospital with baby Jacob. But now grandma Annemarie has come down with bronchitis. Grandpa Hans can't easily deal with a sick wife and two lively kids by himself. Oh, and guests are now flying in from all over for the christening this weekend. What to do?

What's up

So, we had a baby. But that's not why we haven't been posting! Like we'd let a little thing like that stop us. No, the problem is that the darn baby went and picked up a staph infection. Staphylococcus aureus, to be precise. Not that this is really all that precise, because staph aureus causes something like nineteen totally different diseases, depending on where and how it hits you. We're talking everything from zits through diarrhea to bone necrosis. In baby Jacob's case, it was skin blisters and green goo in one ear. This was last week and, just to be clear, we ALL SEEM TO BE OKAY NOW, okay? Jacob has been on antibiotics for a week now. After a day or so, the infection did what infections are supposed to do when hit with antibiotics: it died. He seems totally fine now. The only tricky bit is, he has to get the antibiotics for ten days straight. And they're administered intravenously, via a large and clunky apparatus that doesn't travel well. (And before you ask, yes, we asked. There Is No Other Way.) So, Jacob is still in the hospital, and Claudia is still with him. Alan and David are still with the grandparents. And I am still in Romania, alone. (You might think that being alone would give me more time to post. All I can say is, it hasn't worked out that way.) If all goes as planned, Claudia and Jacob will finally get out on Friday. I should leave here Friday morning to go get them. And on Tuesday next, we should all be back here in Romania, together under one roof. Fingers crossed.

The announcement you've all been waiting for

I have the distinct pleasure of announcing the arrival of young master Jacob Thomas Muir, who has entered this world at a surprising 3800 grams. His parents are resting.

The Power of Bable

A conversation between Alan and his mother yesterday. Alan: We speak many languages. Claudia: Yes, we do. Alan: American and German! Claudia: And Romanian! Alan: Yes. You speak German and Daddy speaks American. Claudia: And what do you speak? Alan: I speak American and German and Romanian. Claudia: I also speak English and Romanian. Pause. Alan, diplomatically: A little Romanian. (I should add that this conversation took place in German, of course.)

Little European boys

My mother-in-law's greatest fear is that our boys will be too European to ever fit in once we get back to the US. I don't think that's really an issue - kids are adaptable and if they are not quite like other US kids, well, then I'm sure it's for the better, not for the worse. (At least, I'm keeping that hope up.) However, this morning, my dear husband was compelled to comment: "They are such little European boys." Why, you ask?

Poof

When I was a little boy, I used to disappear. Not all that little, really. I was still disappearing until I was, oh, eleven, twelve? But by that time it wasn't so bad, because I knew my home telephone number, and was nearly as good at finding my Mom as she was at finding me. I went through a phase where I would get separated from her in a department store or shopping mall, realize it, and then have her paged. "Mrs. Muir, your son is at Aisle One. Mrs. Muir..." She seemed to find this upsetting. I told her that I'd learned it from all the times she had paged me over the years, but it didn't help. Go figure. Anyway, my real glory days of disappearance were when I was much younger. Three, four, five years old. I didn't know my phone number, didn't know my address, couldn't describe my mother's last location better than "Mommy was over there". But hot damn was I good at disappearing. Crowded stores were a favorite, but anywhere would do. Airports and train stations. Parking lots. A busy sidewalk where Mom had paused to rummage in her purse. Central Park in New York City.

Out cold

Birthdays combined with coughing and vomiting will make you sleepy. It will then happen that you fall asleep in odd positions. And then your cruel parents come and flash bright lights at you. What's the deal, really? And yes, the pyjamas are seasonally incorrect. So what?

Happy Birthday, my little sunshine

David is two today. No cake picture as of yet (it's still early and he actually only ate the silver pearls off the cake), but two pix of the man himself with selected presents. Isn't he adorable? Of course, I may be slightly biased. Happy birthday, my little sunshine. Get well, grow, be happy, and never lose your incredible smile.

(No. It's not a gun. It's a toy drill. That's way cooler, anyway.)

We're alive, really

It's been a rough time but we came out on the other side, a bit worse for the wear but alive. We had a very nasty shock two weeks back which had me emergency airlifted to a German hospital -- and which subsequently turned out to be a "beginner's mistake" of the Romanian doctor I had been seeing. I might blog about it some day. Doug was traveling for a week, our nanny got sick and quit - and came back. It was the end of the school year and we just spent some days on the beach at the Black Sea coast, where the boys promptly got sick. The nature of the illness was that first one boy, then the other, coughed himself awake every hour, on the hour, all night long. Eventually the combination of sleeplessness and stress combined with too much sun to make Doug sick, and he ended up in bed with chills and fever, unable to so much as put his socks on. It's been rough going, as I said, but we're back and we seem to be basically OK and slowly things should get back to normal.

Talking about playgrounds

I said in passing last week that I'd write about playgrounds here in Bucharest. Well, promised is promised, and so here we go. The good news is: the playgrounds are becoming much better. There are new ones built all over the city, and our kids love them. The bad news is: the existing playgrounds are maintained really badly. It seems that as soon as they are up, nobody cares about them anymore. In Germany, if a child gets injured on an unsafe playground, you can sue the city. Somehow, I think it's different in Romania. It's gotta be.

Wednesday lazy photoblogging

Just because I'm lazy today and rather read than write, and because you might want to know how we look like at 8 in the morning. (I'm sure you couldn't care less but I'm really lazy today.) Sorry about the reflecting strip on David's jacket - we were about to go out.

Evil parents, that's what we are

David is 22 months old and very much two years already. He is my little devil in disguise - incredible charm and charisma liberally coating a will of steel. Yesterday, we went for a short walk after dinner. Just up the street to the supermarket to get some pistachios, and to check for a portable potty at the maternity store next door. Roundtrip maybe 700 meters. The route leads along Calea Dorobantilor which is a very busy street. Now, Alan is very well behaved and will hold your hand while walking where it's dangerous. He doesn't always like it but he will always do it. Not so David.

Blue watermelon

This is what happens when you leave the kid -- briefly -- alone a. with the markers b. without a piece of paper. Don't worry - it was super-washable paint. The water melon he grabbed from the table about five seconds after this picture was taken turned a nice blue-ish tint within the blink of an eye. Yum-y!

The tower of Bable is nothing, folks

Overheard in a conversation between my sons: "Te rog! Jos, aici!" "Nu!" "Te rog, aici! Da-ma asta!" "Nu!" "Mama! David will mir das nicht geben!" At least they are polite to each other. (It goes something like this: Please, down, here! No! Please, here! Give me that! No! Mommy, David doesn't want to give it to me!)

Kid cuteness

Mainly for Doug in Albania, some cute and big kid pictures under the fold. We had a nice day at the park on Sunday, as one can see. The weather was delightful and the kids enjoyed every moment. Until it was time to go home...

Easter Holidays

Alan's school has a two-week Easter break. Yes, Easter -- we celebrate Orthodox Easter here which is on May 1st. The teachers were so happy to get rid of the little monsters for a while that they organized a big carnival on the last day of school. It was a hat parade, although many children came dressed up in fancy costumes. It was a lot of fun, even though Alan doesn't look like it. I just couldn't get him to smile for a photo. When did that happen? Oh, and how do you like the hat?

Over the Top

David can climb out of his crib. In theory, the crib is only guaranteed up to 18 months. David is 21 months old. In practice, though, the manufacturers put pretty huge margins of error. If a 17 and 1/2 month old child falls out of their crib and hurts himself, the liability is immense. So, usually, "safe to 18 months" means "save until sometime after age 2". But David started climbing out this weekend.

Davidspeak 101

David, 20 months old, has his own language. It's a mixture of English, German and Romanian, with a few words all his own. Here's a short glossary. chocolate - chocolate bonbon - any sweet food that's not chocolate supa -- soup. From either Ger. Suppe or Rom. supa chicken -- chicken Nudeln! -- noodles, pasta. From Ger. Everything else that's edible and hot.

What do 8 hours of straight sleep feel like?

I wouldn't be able to tell you. For some odd reason, our kids have both decided to be difficult and give up on the sleeping-through-the-night-thing. Really, it's so boring and all. It was kicked off by David's croup attack last week. Two nights of very little sleep. The next night, Alan woke up from a nightmare. What can you do. These days, they take turns - first Alan wakes up and won't go back to sleep without a drink of milk, then David does the same two hours later and he also thinks it's a good idea to call the night a day at 5:30 am. Doug's been taking the night shifts ("I'm doing it for love," he claims), and I'm getting up early. You can imagine why we're too sluggish to post recently. UPDATE: Doug's a saint. He took the kids (including the play date for Alan I had arranged for) to the park in the morning and after a nap to a birthday party in the afternoon. I spent the day eating, resting and reading. ("The Third Door", and so far I'm really liking it. Thanks, Carlos!) I know what you mean, Bernard.

Treacly sweet

I know. One of these days, I will make another substantial and valuable post. I promise. Until then, why not post another picture that my son can use as evidence for psychological abuse - or, as One Good Thing puts it, "This blog is what my children will use as evidence when they sue me for emancipation." Right. In my defense: it happened at the nursery school and I had nothing to do with it. And, after the event, Alan insisted on switching roles. That picture I'm reserving for blackmail when he's 16. The traditional one is under the fold. Warning: it's treacly sweet and will stick like toffee to your teeth for days.

What happens when you leave the kid and the Play-doh alone

... is this:

I'm sure he ate some of it too. Before you freak: it's home-made Play-doh. Flour, salt, oil and food coloring. Now I need to find more food coloring in Bucharest. Any ideas?

Oh Stevie, I wonder!

You have to know, he does have some African blood in his veins. Sometimes, you can tell.