Misheru

I thought I would go ahead and post some recent pictures on my blog. I keep putting pictures up on social networking sites like Facebook and Orkut, and I forget that the point of this blog was for grandparents and such to get a little insight on the kids’ growth spurts (it is also an outlet for me and my attempts at humor, of course). Anyway, before I post kid pics, I want to put up these pictures. I recently noticed that, in my hurry to take care of everyone else, I haven’t been taking care of myself. Setting up a profile picture was pretty eye-opening, so here’s the before picture, the “with my 8-year-old make-up” picture, and a picture of me with new make-up and a haircut.

A bit scary, really, that a trim and some make-up from this century would make such a difference. I’ve never been one to wear a lot of make-up, but just a little bit here and there does make me look less like a crack addict.

Next are some pics of Maya and Ben. I have a really long birthday post for her, but I’ve been struggling with the video of her Happy Birthday song, so, here it is a week after her second birthday, and there is still no post. *sigh* But, you’ll all be glad in the end, because I’m editing out that part where the camera slipped and all you can see is my chest. Marti swears he didn’t do that on purpose, and I’m sure we all believe him, don’t we? Umm Hmmmm…

You can see Maya giving Ben a “look” in that first picture, like, “Um, sorry? These are mine.” But, they finally play nicely with her Dora train set, and Maya shows off her new necklace in the last photo. That necklace lasted, oh, about 24 hours. Ah well.

Anyway, I should have a full birthday post up soon. Until then, my narcissistic photo ops and kid pics can be enjoyed by all.

My favorite part of this video, after the clapping? Ben strolling by in his Lightning McQueen undies at the end. He’ll never forgive me for that.

I meant to add these pictures to the post Hey, Little Sister but they languished on the camera instead. Here they are, with Maya letting it slip how she feels about this before she sees the camera comes out:

And my Wordpress theme is a thing of the past. I’m trying out this barebones theme now (I couldn’t take the Butterflies! and Lights! and Color! of my last one) while I decide what I’m going to use next. It’s about time for rearranging the site again, and I’ve just finished my last big project of the semester (I really am in grad school, despite ignoring most of my readings) so I have a little time before I start my pre-session class, which will actually require me to work.

Anyway, check back, I have a video of Maya pretending to be a rock star uploading this very minute. I know that parents shouldn’t jump to conclusions when kids are little, but Maya really likes music, in a way I haven’t seen in Ben, anyway. She sings with this horrible backyardigan karaoke machine she got from my brother at Christmas (thanks Nick), but she also sings and accompanies herself on the piano (with plinking, not pounding), and today she spent more than a moderate amount of time playing the harmonica. I’m wondering what is an acceptable time to start lessons on something? Or, to rephrase, what would a Japanese mother do?

Also, my ads went away with my theme, and I won’t be putting them back. Long have I cluttered my site with Google Ads, but after nearly 4 years of blogging I have made $99.74, which I won’t even see until it reaches a $100 (they don’t send checks smaller than that). That averages out to $2/month or so, which doesn’t even pay for the site hosting, and it’s a pain in my neck. So, until I make it big and can manage my own ads, I am completely ad-free and plan to stay that way. Enjoy.

I’ve been lucky; for the most part, my kids get along okay. That’s not to say that they don’t fight, because they do, and their fighting has worsened as of late. But they have their tender moments; Maya pats Ben when he’s sad, and I saw Ben go over and “kiss it better” when I told Maya she couldn’t have something she wanted. It’s surprising, these bursts of tenderness, and somewhat amazing as well. Once when they were driving each other crazy, I made Ben move to the other side of the car. He immediately began to protest, and I said, in an exasperated tone, “Why do you want to sit next to her if she’s bothering you?” Marti replied, “Because they’re siblings.”

A few days ago, I noticed Ben had taped something to his door, about at Maya’s eye level, but I didn’t pay much attention. Finally I decided to crouch down and have a look, and this is what I saw:

I had noticed he was closing the door to his room more frequently — it sticks, so Maya can’t push it open — but I didn’t realize he had made, and then cut, and then taped a keep out sign on his door especially for Maya.

It was unbelievably cute.

Even though it was rotten. Because I was a little sister once, too, and I know the glory of a big brother’s room. My big brother had lots of trophies, and they were shiny, and I loved to stroke their shininess. Except that my brother is seriously OCD, and whenever he came home, he checked for fingerprints. Ben is following a long tradition of big brotherness; he even has Hulk boxing gloves. My brother didn’t have gloves, but he did have an Incredible Hulk doll (sorry, action figure) that could be stretched to unbelievable proportions (probably made from some kind of material since outlawed for safety, I’m sure) and a miniature shark with a jaw that moved up and down, complete with rows of sharp teeth. I loved those toys, which sat, like the trophies, in very particular spots. My brother knew if I had touched them, no matter how careful I was, and there was a lot of yelling involved when he came home from school and found his shark .01 cm to the left of where he left it. And, believe it or not, he would move it .01 cm back, back to where it should be, that secret place where the shark must always live. I’m 32 and my brother 39 this year; he hasn’t changed much, I have to say, except that now he has a wife to drive crazy, too.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at Ben and Maya’s relationship with each other. After all, my brother taught me boxing by making me stand still while he punched me, but I still remember sobbing in my room while he got a spanking in his room next door. I guess that’s just the way siblings work — I’ll always be a little sister in my mind.

Just like Maya.