"Fair" thee well... until next year.

The family visited the Maryland Renaissance Festival again this year.

Every year so far, we have had at least one (usually two) children along that required a stroller (pain in the ass to navigate in a crowd, not good in gravel), a backpack (where you hold food over your head for them and pick up errant sippies), or carrying (ooooh, my aching back - really, dh's aching back).

So, sorry little guy - you can go play soccer with your cousins... see you later. Look at him, it's not like he suffered.


This year, only our two older (odder?) knights came to the festival.

Like all good family entertainment, we listened to bawdy songs that they couldn't completely understand (we think).

Then, we took them to the sword swallower, Johnny Fox.

First, he loosened up the audience with a little cup game. Everyone should know how to play three-card monty, right?

Ok, folks, here it is...as he says, "yeah, it's gross, but, you're going to watch, right?"

Getting there...


Yup, he's got it.

Then, for our further entertainment, he swallows a balloon (and, he says he isn't gay - shame, isn't it?).

After the balloon, he pops it by swallowing another sword. What? You are still waiting for me to take the balloon out? Wait until tomorrow (B is still waiting).

He sets a good example for the kids (yeah, so he wasn't swallowing fire, right?).

Oh, then we watched the jugglers. Yeah, more good role models, juggling machetes.

So, then, we wait patiently to hold the perfect seats for the joust. B has been waiting since last year to see the joust again.

OH MY GOSH - here they come...

First, they compete to see who can skewer the rings with their swords (Ree, eat your heart out - here are some beautiful Belgians doing the work they were bred for).

Then, they hack apart wood blocks.

OOooooooh, look, here is the jerk they hired to get the crowd going, there he is occluding the view I sat in the sun for 45 minutes to get. Isn't he charming?

Oh, and look, here are the knights beating each other (more) senseless with clubs.

And, here is the big deal - actual knocking horseman off with a lance.

Here, they celebrate the winning horseman that broke his lance (several times) on the other man's armour.

B wants to be "a jouster" when he grows up... we are so proud. No, really, I've heard there's lots of money in it... what? YOU ACTUALLY PAY TO DO THIS?

Oh... dear.

So, we burned off some extra energy at "Ye Olde Playground".

They had swings during the Renaissance, yes?

Oh, and pirate ships?

After the boys burned some energy, we added to the family fun by watching "Hey Nunnie, Nunnie". They are absolutely hysterical (to all of us that think making fun of nuns, religion, and the bible are the perfect pastime).

We ended the perfect day by letting our aspiring jouster have a pony ride.

What you didn't see:

• the stilt people
• lots of pleasant drunk people
• the belly dancers in Ye Olde Tavern
• a fair with enough "ye olde portapotties" for everyone in need (really!)
• a fair with very little trash (again, it is true)
• the amazing amount of dust (boy, is it ever dry out here)
• the aerial angels (I missed 'em too, but dh and Z got to see them). I think the combination of aerial work of women in leotards, with great flexibility probably suits the guys more anyway, yes?
• the Drench the Wench booth
• lots of women making good use of period costumes to show more cleavage than ever
• lots of unusual people (but, really, in a good way)
• more off-British accents than you can shake a stick at (Kevin Costner was virtually a Londoner by comparison)
• the child's Knighting ceremony (we missed it this year, but our oldest has already been knighted - for deeds of "being good to his baby brother").
• fair food - can you say "on a stick"? I mean, seriously, even cheesecake on a stick, geez Louise. On the other hand, deep-fried pickles are scary good.

See you next year, festival, it is always fun.

Classic middle child.

B had a recommendation this morning...

We need to leave Z and T with my sister. Then, dh and I can take B on his own, custom-made, vacation to a cabin at the lake - by himself.

Wouldn't that be grand?

Does anyone else note any deep-rooted desire for parental attention?

Nope?

I thought not.

Sometimes, I don't do it on purpose.

I teach biology. I was talking about polydactyly (extra digits) in cats today as an example of genetic drift (I know, blah blah blah). Anyway, the point was that for random reasons, a male tomcat with extra toes sired a large number of offspring in Boston in the patriot days.





Thus, Boston has a disproportionately large number of polydactylous cats.





I pointed out that the success of the original male was just a chance process. There is nothing inherently cool about males with big feet.





Then, I said, it wasn't the big feet that made him sexy.





My college students started to chortle.





It beats hell over last year when I inadvertantly refered to a jellyfish's testicles...

(uh, I mean, uh... tentacles).

I think that I have been studying reproductive biology for too long. Well, if they don't learn anything... at least they are entertained.

Just so you know...

I refer to my oldest child here as "Z".



His name starts with a T. So does my youngest child's name.



So, I refer to the youngest as T and the oldest as Z.



Why? You might ask.



When I was pregnant with my oldest, we had, early on, selected an unusual trio of potential names. We were fairly certain, even, which of the three unusual names we would choose. We didn't want a lot of editorial comments on our choice.



So, when asked about our chosen name for our "yet to be named player" boy - I told them...
"Oh, we've chosen Zoltan"



Then, there was always a long pause.



(ha ha) I said to myself.



They would say "oh, how interesting", or "really?" or "gosh, how did you find that?".



We must be really odd, because they thought... maybe that was serious... better not make fun of it.



So, when said child "Z" was born, and we announced the highly unusual T name... all respondents chirped "Oh, what a lovely name", "He sounds wonderful", or some such.



This d0esn't mean we're not odd (we are), but the name kinda grows on you.



By the way, does Zoltan ring a bell with you?



Yup.



It was the fortune-telling machine in the Tom Hanks' movie, Big.

So, who asked?

My piece of completely unsolicited advice for the day? We are talking marriage, people.

Not how to keep one going... just how to choose wisely.

Don't we all know the couple that is unhappy because - their spouses are exactly the same as the day they married them?

I tell my kids, when doling out snacks, Popsicles, or (well, anything really): "you get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit". I didn't coin the expression, the daycare did. We got lots of great gems there (including, for the record: "walk away", "that is not your work", and "that is not a safe choice").

In marriage, however, you do get to make a choice... a monumentally important, life-changing, happiness-defining choice. Do it wisely.

By wisely, I mean, don't choose someone because they have great potential. That is, if they changed this, or that, they would be perfect. You are making a Eiffel Tower-sized error if you think that you will be able to pick and choose which traits your spouse should keep. Besides, your spouse is just as perfect as you are.

I know a handful of couples at this very moment where one (or more likely both) spouse is unhappy because their spouse didn't change in the way they had planned. You get what you pay for, nothing more (sad to say).

One couple: the guy lied a bit when he said he would be OK with one child, he really didn't want any... thought he could put her off until it was too late. She lied a little when she said she'd be OK with just one. Yup, they have had major struggles.

Another couple: She said she'd be OK with his continuing most of his "guy" activities (being mostly a widow while he dashes about running, hashing, and hanging out with the guys). He said he'd want to spend a bit more time with her and back off a bit on the guy time. Struggling, as we speak (well, as I pontificate... and almost no one reads my ponderous crap).

I made this mistake the first time around. I thought... he's young... he'll grow up. Nope. Another case of arrested development.

This time around. My husband isn't perfect and neither am I. I knew that I married a frugal man that doesn't like (to give or receive) surprises, speaks as he thinks, and is organized to the edge of OCD. He knew and still married a woman that will never be organized, forgets anniversaries (we got married on New Year's Day, and I've still mucked it up!) and birthdays (his, last year... oops), and misplaces everything. He likes technical literature, I am a bookworm. But, it all works out... because we accepted our respective idiosyncrasies. I love dogs (and have a pain-in-the-ass golden retriever) and he thinks that dogs are outside toys.

I did know that I married: a phenomenal listener, a man with inhuman patience, a caring individual, a man that needs space and time to organize his thoughts (damn, the man takes a long time paying our bills - but, he balances his checkbook to the penny). I didn't even guess then that he would be the most awesome dad ever (knew he'd be good, but didn't know the extent). Even if he'll never really surprise me (I don't love surprises either), won't say things just to be nice, thinks spending money on frills (like curtains) is excessive, and sleeps through anything - I love him to death.

Maybe he will (maybe he won't) get a card from me on New Years' Day this year... but, he knows I love him.

You get exactly what you marry (sometimes more, but you don't get to choose which parts).

No, we didn't argue.

Geez, I am tired.

I slept terribly from 3:00 am until I climbed back into bed at 6:30. I am supposed to get up at about 6:30 - but, that didn't happen until nearly 7 (maybe even after 7, I was a bit fuzzy this morning). I still am a bit fuzzy, a cup of depth-charge coffee didn't do it, now I am working on some diet pepsi. I teach in 20 minutes, and I hope to (by then) know a little more than my students. Maybe not. Sadly, it is parent's weekend, and this brain-dead mom will have a few parents in class. They will wonder what they are spending their money on.

Bossy: If you read this, remember when you attend a class with your son next year during his parent's weekend that maybe the professor didn't sleep well the night before.

You see, T woke up shrieking for daddy at one a.m. I was too exhausted from soccer night, first grade homework, pre-K homework, grading quizzes, finding something (old and used clothes to choose from) for first grade photos today, and scraping dog poop off of the driveway to negotiate. So, I toted the little guy to our bed; shoved him toward dh and chirped "there's daddy". Then, I went back to sleep.

Then, I woke up at three because the little guy was screaming "NO, B, NO", and kicking me in the head. What was he yelling at? I tried to roll over to see what was going on... I couldn't quite stretch out. Hmmm... short sheeted? No. Um, sheets tangled? No. Um, hey, what is that? B? Why are you laying across the foot of our bed?

So, now B is awake too. "I need my tooty dog! Where is he?"

"I can't look for tooty dog at three am. Geez, quit kicking me in the head."

DH is blissfully sleeping through it all. It's a gift he has. I love him anyway.

So, pissing and moaning, I wander away... "I can't sleep with all of this."

B says "Mommy, are you getting tooty dog?"

"No... (mumble, mumble)".

For the first time in married life, one of us sleeps on the couch.

As it turns out... no shoes on the couch meant take your shoes off on the couch to someone and it is covered with playground sand. Oh, and the afghan is gone so I cover up with the throw pillows. I had crazy dreams for three hours until I heard dh start the shower.

I climbed back into dh's side of the bed at 6:30 (B was on my side, T was in the middle). T, half asleep, hits me in the head because I pulled the covers over his legs.

DH leans out of the shower and chirps, "where were you? Couldn't sleep?"

Grumble, grumble, (I hope that I got some sand on your side of the bed).

Good morning!

Aw man... who did that?

It was my turn to read to Z's first grade class this Tuesday.

But, I was in a meeting instead (see previous post).

So, my dh, J did the reading instead.

In the interest of having Z's dad read some really fun stuff, we found a theme to the books.

So, I bought "Walter, the Farting Dog", "Dog Breath: the Story of HalleyTosis", and "The Man Who Loved Cheese".

Yes, we really did bring up the level of sophistication in the classroom.

To make the cultural atmosphere just a little more elevated - I also purchased, with these book selections, a plush version of Walter.

Guess what?

That plush version of Walter... go on... give him a hug.

You guessed it.

Now, if you can believe it. B cried bloody murder for (seemingly) hours at bedtime last night because.... he had to sleep with tooty dog.

Isn't this charming?

What have I done?