Marmot Conversations, Part 2

MBC (to M(7) who was patting my precious child on his face): Are your hands clean?
M(7): Yes!
MBC: You washed your hands after playing with the cat outside in the mud?
M(7): No.

That's what I thought.

Marmot Conversations, Part 1

Marmot Boy (age 3, while watching me nurse The Bairn): Babies don't eat food.  They only like the milk they suck out of their mommies' tummies.

*I still have terrible Internet service. Wait for it . . .

My TV Nervous Closet

The flat where we are staying has a TV and cable (or satellite or whatever it is that makes all the pretty, pretty channels available).  I am now wondering how I made it through pregnancy this long without the Food Network or reality shows that air water births. 

When E(9) (can you believe she's NINE?) was a little girl she was a wee bit on the neurotic side and a whole lot of seemingly harmless household items made her nervous, including a toy duck that quacked "Aflac" and the detachable hood of Marmot Dad's coat.  My sister stuffed everything E(9) declared nervous-making into the linen closet, which became known as the Nervous Closet.  Occasionally E(9) (who was probably 2 or 3-years-old at the time) would walk tenuously to the closet with me and command, "Open it."  Then she stood in front of the open closet with her fists clenched and shook until she was done scaring herself.

I feel the same way about birth TV shows and books.  I tried to read Birth: A History at the beginning of my pregnancy but I was so freaked out by the author's description of a c-section in which the doctor popped her baby out "like a champagne cork" that I decided that this year was not the correct year for that particular book.  I do like watching those televised water births, but in a kind of shaking-in-front-of-the-nervous-closet kind of way.  Which is fine.  When I'm done, I just pop over to see what's happening on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives so that Steve and I can drool over a bit of American roadfood and repeat over and over to one another, "Hey, we could eat one of those this spring!" (with our BABY).

I Miss Marmots

Yesterday I called the Marmot House, because it was my sister's birthday (and today is Marmot Dad's birthday), and I talked to this kid here:


He told me that he saw ducks at the lake! ducks at the lake! ducks at the lake! Also, he informed me that he has 'noc'lars (binoculars) to see birds.

Then Tuey got on the line and told that he saw ducks and that he chased them and that one day he's going to catch one and eat its flippers.

I miss marmots.

Not as good as marmots, but still potentially amusing are the neighbor kids I'm hanging out with Friday. I have to pick them up from school, take them back to their house for a little while, and then deliver them to another neighbor's house, where they will be spending the night.

Driving makes me a bit nervous even at the best of times, so I'm having some anxiety over Friday's proceedings. I'm envisioning the fun games the neighbor kids and I will play. Games like Hyperventilating at the Roundabout and Being Lost in the Scottish Countryside.

We drive on the left. We drive on the left.

Sweeter than Sugar

While I was in Utah for the wedding, M(5) was my special friend and smothered me in gifts. Every day she left valentine notes for me in my bag, she drew me the best book ever for Valentine's Day, and on the day of the wedding she went all out and made me extra valentines, a special necklace, AND gifted me with a plastic egg containing a penny.

This is my Valentine's Day book. It's fantastic.

Dinosaurs!
[in heart] To Aunt. Happy Valentine's Day

Contents
1. Spinosaurus
2. Spinosaurus
3. Elasmosaurus
4. Ichthyosaurus
5. Stegosaurus

I like spinosaurus. Spinosaurus means spin lized [spine lizard].

Just a picture.

Elasmosaurus was mostly neck.

Just a picture.

Stegosaurus had spiks [spikes] on its tail. It used them to sweng at meat-eaters.

An example of one of M[5]'s valentine cards. I think it is sufficient evidence for why M[5] will be inheriting everything if I never have children.

Not Because Rebekah Told Me To

Steve and I are getting married in the morning. Steve has now met all of my immediate family. Tuey is very taken with Steve's bald head and likes to think about it and talk about it with an occasional, "I love Uncle Steve!" thrown in after his Uncle Steve hair comments. M(5) is our most enthusiastic wedding helper. When we set up for the reception this afternoon, she lugged around folding chairs that weigh more than she does and followed close on my heels everywhere I went. She's spent this entire week making me valentines (including a FANTASTIC book I will blog later) and secretly sneaking them into my bag. All three of the older marmots helped ("helped" in some cases) make reception cookies, and I've overheard several play sessions that involve pony weddings.

Thirteen and a half hours . . .

We Didn't Buy One

Yesterday the marmots, Mom, my sister, and I took a trip to DI (with me squeezed into the special spot in the van, all the way in the back between E(7)'s booster seat and M(5)'s car seat). Mom made my wedding dress and she did a great job and the fabric is lovely, but we're still not entirely in love with it. DI has a whole rack of wedding dresses with sleeves, so we thought I might as well try them on while we were already there facilitating the little girls' dinosaur/pony addiction.

Three of the kids joined me in my tiny, thrift store fitting room. Tuey manned the door (with his sisters yelling, "Tuey, no! Don't open the door until Aunt is wearing clothes!"), and the girls took turns zipping and unzipping dresses and fluffing up trains and oohing over the fanciness of it all. I should always take marmots when I go clothes shopping. They're real little ego-boosters.

I Would Like a Marmot in the City

I miss the marmots (and not just because they provide so much blog fodder). At the moment, I most miss

1. Coming to the dinner table and being told by Tuey that I will be eating "applesauce made byyy the Tuey."

2. Seeing Marmot Babe tap his open palm with the index finger of his other hand, one of his self-styled signs. Translation: Put a treat right here in my hand.

Field Trip

Chou and I visited Brighton Beach today (via the Coney Island boardwalk) to hang out with the Russians. It's been ten years since I've really used my Russian, so I could only understand about a quarter of the written Russian I encountered and I could only understand very small snatches of the spoken Russian, but I still pulled out my rusty skills so I could tell Chou helpful things like, "That is a pharmacy. These are yucky cookies. Those are filled with cabbage." Occasionally I would see a word and suddenly realize that I knew it and in my head I would yell, "Shoes! Shoes! Shoes!" I felt like Marmot Babe. Right before I left Utah, Marmot Babe was very busy acquiring language and repeated everything we said to him. One day my sister handed him his lunch and told him what it was and then Marmot Babe crowed, "Hot dog! Hot dog! Hot dog!" until someone gave him a new word to yell. I even (badly) ordered our lunch for us in Russian (with a little bit of English and a lot of pointing). We shared a potato piroshki and a meat-filled something or other (that's where most of the pointing came in) and poppy seed-filled bread (that's where some English came in - with poppy seeds=s myakom, yes? maybe not). It was lovely. And I didn't even give in to the temptation to buy priyaniki.

Waiting, Waiting

The giant storm that has descended on the Rockies has delayed my departure from Utah. This is what I do while I wait to leave (my options are limited since it's COLD and I'm sick).

1. Have wacky conversations with E(6).

E(6) sat next to me on the couch and leaned over with her lips puckered.

MBC: What are you doing?

E(6): This is what I do to [little boy in her class]. I want to kiss him someday.

MBC: Why do you want to kiss him?

E(6): Aunt! Because I LOVE him.

Silly me.

2. Have wacky conversations with Tuey.

Tuey: (with his face buried in my sweater) Oh, Aunt. You smell. just. like. an aunt.

3. Have wacky conversations with my sister.

MBC: Weather.com says that it's still going to be snowing in Rock Springs tomorrow. And in Cheyenne. And in Denver.

Sister: Check Accuweather.

MBC: Why? Do they have better information?

Sister: No, but they'll tell you what you want to hear.

MBC: Oh, hmmm, yeah, it does say here that the weather should be improved tomorrow.

Sister: See? Doesn't that make you feel better?

MBC: No. I'm pretty sure weather.com is correct and there's still a terrible storm in Wyoming. I feel lied to.

Sister: Well, I feel better.

We're hoping to leave tomorrow. Cross your fingers for us.

A Special Treat

My sister grew popcorn this year. She told me to be sure to mention that she grew it "three sisters" style (meaning, she grew the corn together with beans and squash). Here's how we enjoyed the harvest today.

1. Tuey pulled the kernels off the cobs.


2. We heated oil on the stove and added the kernels.

3. My sister oversaw the cooking until the corn was all popped.

4. Our resident 5-year-old claimed about half the popcorn for herself, ferociously guarding her plate and yelling when anyone tried to share.


6. Tuey employed his usual enthusiastic eating style.



p.s. This kid's the best. If he just had a volume control button, he'd be perfect.

The Marmot Reunion

The marmots and I have been joyfully reunited. M(5) has become more or less a permanent fixture at my side, and she and Tuey and E(6) and I have been having good times. Marmot Babe, however, does not remember me. He doesn't remember me AND, after realizing that his mother is perfectly willing to abandon him and leave him with me, he's very, very wary of me. He's developed his own system of sign language and one of his signs means I'm done. As in, I'm done with this book. Take it away. I'm done with this soup. Take it away. Generally, when I talk to Marmot Babe, he lowers his head and walks quickly by me, signing, I'm done. I'm done with Aunt. Take her away.

All about the Marmots

My parents are visiting from Tennessee and they were at my sister's house when I arrived to babysit the marmots on Friday.

Tuey: Grandpa, Aunt is here!

My Dad: That's not Aunt. That's my little girl.

Tuey: A look of complete distress.

Tuey: Mommy! Aunt is not a girl. She is Aunt.


Thursday my brother and sister-in-law met up with my other brother and sister-in-law and their kids for a picnic lunch. I tried to teach one brother how to express happiness, which is exhibited thus:

1. Throw your hands up in the air.
2. Wiggle your fingers (spirit fingers).
3. Simultaneously yell, "Whee!"

My brother's super bad at it. He doesn't let the joie de vivre overcome him for the whee part. In fact, he has to be coerced to even mumble whee. I thought perhaps I was just a bad instructor, but then I taught the procedure to Tuey and he's great at it. He stands up on a chair to do it before launching himself onto the floor.


Today I was playing with Madame E(6).

E(6): Aunt, what if you lived here in our house with us?

MBC: Well, that would be fun (and loud). But where would I sleep?

E(6): You could sleep in [M(5)]'s bed.

M(5) has a nice double bed where both she and E(6) often sleep together so I thought it was nice that E(6) would suggest that I could have that bed. Until she continued talking and made her plan clear.

E(6): We could definitely fit three people in that bed.


Marmot Babe has finally decided he loves me again. It only took a solid week of daily contact, but now when I come in the room he waves and says, "Hi, Aunt. Hi, Aunt. Hi, Aunt." It sounds remarkably like, "I, Ya. I, Ya. I, Ya," but we all feel certain that he's talking to me. Good baby.

In Which I Change My Future Plans

My parents are coming to visit next week and the marmots have an activity the Saturday that they'll be here.

Sister: We may not go to the activity on Saturday. We may stay home and play with Grandma that day.

E(6): Or we could go and Grandma could come with us.

Sister: That's a good idea.

M(5): Or we could go and while we were gone, Grandma could stay home and do jobs.

So, that's what you have to look forward to, Mom. Jobs.

Up until this conversation, I'd always imagined that M(5) would be the best child to live with in my old age, but now I see which way the wind really blows. When I'm elderly, I don't want to stay home performing hard labor while M(5) goes out on the town. It looks like Tuey's my new hope for the future.

Birthday 2 of 3 This Week

I forgot to take my camera to Madame M(5)'s birthday party tonight. It's fine, though, because you can just refer back to the photos from my party to get the feel of the evening. The sushi was the same (M(5) wanted what she considered a Chinese party with sushi and egg rolls and M(5) floating about in my sister's silky blue robe, which looks like a kimono if you have a very active imagination) and Tuey's signature dipping style was the same and the little children pumped up on sugar and the thrill of an event was the same. So just picture all of that again and then add a very large cake in the shape of a purple pony head with a flowing red (fruit leather) mane and milk dud nostrils and imagine the marmots and some little neighbors kids whacking a pony pinata in the living room and try to conjure up the image of Tuey enraptured by "pilly pocket" furniture and guarding it very fiercely from his siblings and throw in Marmot Babe wandering around clapping his hands and trying to eat teeny tiny doll shoes and you'll have a fairly clear idea of our evening.

A Stolen Story

My sister told me about this experience with Tuey last week. I will now steal the story (much like she has stolen my gray fleece jacket, which I would like back) and tell it before she has the chance (perhaps she wouldn't post it on her blog anyway, because it does involve nipples).

Tuey was wandering around without a shirt on last week, when he noticed his nipples. He looked down, fingered one of his nipples, and asked, "Mommy, what is this? A kidney?"

happy birthday to me

Friday was my birthday. Friday was a fairly stinky day, but today I attended the Marmot House celebration of my special day and now I feel properly feted. The little marmots sang "A Very Merry Unbirthday" to me 4 or 5 times and we opened presents before dinner, because the anticipation was about to rocket them right off their chairs. I received 2 rocks, a ballpoint pen they found in the street (only slightly dusty), and a pink, yarn hair accessory fashioned by Madame E(6).

We enjoyed delicious sushi for dinner.


E(6) refused to eat any at all. M(4) used her chopsticks to extract all the meat from the middles and ignored the vegetables, rice, and seaweed.

I think Tuey was dipping his in soy sauce and then sucking the soy sauce off.


I love German Chocolate Cake for my birthday. German Chocolate Cake or Italian Cream Cake are the two most festive cakes in my book. My sister makes them both very well. (And she's very kind to make any cake at all, particularly since she's making a purple pony cake for M(4) on Tuesday and Marmot Babe's birthday is on Saturday.)


I ate far too much and had to lie on the floor and moan for about 20 minutes after the meal. M(4) very sweetly joined me and snuggled up with me, seemingly undisturbed by my groaning.

Eventually we went outside (where I could lie in the grass and regret those last few sushi selections). Doesn't Marmot Babe have great toes?

Tuey Tuey Tuey

Tuey was full of amusing conversation today, but every time I tried to catch the funny on video, he stuck his hand in his mouth and became a man of few words. He did recite a little something for me before I stumped him with my question, making the ending of this video clip rather anticlimactic. I thought the grandparents would like to see it anyway.



Tuey also presented me with a lime as an early birthday gift tonight (and invited me to his birthday party where he hopes to receive "a bucket of candy canes and a package of lillypops"), rode his "'cooter" around the driveway, and cried when Marmot Dad took Marmot Babe to the doctor--not because he missed his father or his brother, but because he needed to tell the doctor that he had a "'crape" on his knee and a "hole" on his toe.

He is such a delightful boy. I wish I could carry him around in my pocket and take him out periodically for some cheery conversation.

Friendship by Tuey

I'm debating whether or not I should blog about my awkward experience today, but I'm not sure it will translate well into the blogoshere and if you can't grasp how truly, truly awkward it was, there's no point in telling the story. Sooo, while I ponder on that, here's friendship as defined by Tuey.

I babysat the marmots last night. Tuey was running around and had been making eyes at the companion I brought as back-up (an extra set of hands is always helpful when wrangling marmots).

Tuey: Aunt! I have a friend.

MBC: Oh, who's your friend?

Tuey: You are my friend, Aunt!

MBC: Oh, good! What do friends do?

Tuey: (think. think. think) Friends spin!

So we spun in circles for a while. Tuey spun for much longer than I did. Apparently, sometimes it's acceptable for one friend to spin while the other friend watches or wanders away to keep an eye on Marmot Babe.

More Marmot Sports

Madame E(6) plays t-ball.

Sometimes she is the catcher.

Tuey, Madame M(4), and I sit in the bleachers to cheer.

We're very attentive fans.