There is no point to Wednesday

1.Today we were listening to a nursery rhymes cd that Helena loves and which the other two conspire to turn off at every opportunity until I have to use a Stern Voice and make Rigid Guidelines About No One Touching The CD Player Except For Mommy, NO EXCEPTIONS PERIOD, when Harper mused, "Why did Humpty Dumpty even sit on that wall? He should have just walked up to the top of the castle and looked around up there."

2. I came in on this scene yesterday, or was it Monday?:Harper had clicked herself into Helena's booster seat and was making sweeping and very bossy proclamations including telling Hudson that his thumb-sucking, blanket cuddling behavior was not welcome in her kingdom, and that Helena was not allowed to push her puppy in the stroller whilst wearing a princess costume:
Which Helena thought was very devastating news indeed.

3. Helena has a very teeny head. Not tiny enough, however to keep her from wedging it between her crib and the wall this afternoon while in pursuit of a puzzle. I have never heard such a cry. It was almost feral. Thankfully, release was quick and simple. I did not take a picture because I am not a monster, but here she is a little later feeling sad about something else:She then recovered from her great sadness and cleaned the floor with Harper's Cinderella dress which Harper refuses to wear because it is Very Scratchy:

4. I washed all the sheets on Monday and as I was putting them in the washer, I took note of the abomination of desolation that was Harper's room. If you are sensitive (or your name is My Husband) you might want to avert your gaze:


I like how Hudson and Helena are playing in there like it's no big deal that it is Absolute Squalor, and Harper was somewhere else entirely, denying the harsh reality that was the impending Pick It UP And NOW!

5. I have read several critically-lauded contemporary novels over the last couple of months and all of them (with the exception of Cutting for Stone, which I liked very, very much) have left me feeling like a tiny, forsaken Lego on the floor of Harper's room. Since when do hollow, aimless, often vile, self-absorbed humans make for compelling stories? They DON'T, that's what. I don't care if the critics really think that post-postmodernism (yep) is a laudable art form. Blech. I want a book to make me feel the way I felt the first time I read Pride and Prejudice or Gilead or Pilgrim at Tinker Creek or Watership Downor Cry, the Beloved Country. Dear Jonathan Franzen, I have given you two extremely long chances and I now bid you adieu. Freedom, my foot.

6. I am, however, considering giving the Harry Potter series another go. I started a few years ago and lost interest somewhere in the second book. Jamie is apparently reading them now (instead of blogging obviously) and she is generally my canary in the mine for those sorts of things. Would someone else like to make me care?

7. On the latest episode of "Man vs. Wild" Bear Grylls did something for which Harper may never forgive him. He ate a STINGRAY. I was folding clothes in the next room while they watched with the husband and she came in with her head down. "Did Bear just eat a stingray?" I asked. "He did. A blue spotted one," she answered quietly. I left her alone with her grief. Maybe I'll make some more cookies to cheer her:

8. We have entered Narnia at last. The husband has been reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe aloud at bedtime. They call the White Witch "WW" which I think is funny. I'm just glad they have another plot to discuss because I have heard more than any human ever really should about the antics of Lightning and Mater and Finn McMissile and Professor Z ad nauseum ad nauseum.

I am off to bed and really I hope to blog more this week and also to be cheerier.