Strange (Fe)Brew: Hearts, Plagues and Purim

Well gee whillikers, February just brewed itself right away. Short eventful months are wild. It's amazing we're closing in on one year since all covid broke loose. Around this time last year I'd gotten weirdly sick (maybe an allergic reaction in hindsight). I was all broken out in hives and taking steroids that were not really my jam. We were looking at houses in White Center. As more covid news came out, all my weird symptoms definitely freaked me out a little and I was nervous about flying during a brewing pandemic, but thank god I did! Last chance for lord knows how long, especially considering my new allergies to all the stuff in all the disinfectants that will likely remain staples in the post-covid sanitation theater world (sigh - when things change enough that you can't really ever go back to "normal" but "normal" was about as much my jam as steroids, so... what else is new). 

That said, it's been a relatively cozy little lockdown in our new home. We are so incredibly lucky for how easily the transition wears on us. I wish Allan had more access to peers and playmates, but she makes it work. A little imaginary bunny family. Several stuffed toys. A little zoom. 

 

Or a lot...

Hey, collaborative Valentine's drawing is the way to go! 

Also Valentine's Day treats and toys don't hurt. Well, shouldn't. I mean you could probably sit on a piece of jewelry or chip a tooth on a crunchy peanut chocolate. 

Valentine's Day is important in this household. Allan breaks into sobs on a regular basis because a particular day is not Valentine's Day. So obviously the pressure is a little higher than your average Christmas or 4th of July kinda holiday. 

Luckily she's still pretty easily placated. 

Chocolate, jewelry, stickers, and a toy named candy almost makes up for the piles of candy she usually gets from a preschool party. Almost. 

But the zoom sesh with her buddies goes a long way. 

Even if we can't always stay in front of the computer for too long at a time. 

Exciting stuff. I'm pleased with how the Valentine's celebrations panned out. They checked the boxes. 

I dunno if it was quite as exciting or box-checking as the day we got an actual giant box... 

 ... but it was up there. 

Close to Mardi Gras. Which mostly involved crime scene pancakes and several videos of people wandering around Bourbon Street. But also a french language teacher making funny jokes about crepes. 

Valentine's won the holiday of the month so far, but we've still got Purim to go! There's a kid's dance party tonight. Allan's gonna dress up as a butterfly. I've eaten most of the Challah bread!

Of course there were a few weeks worth of Valentiney activities to keep us occupied so that helped cement its winning status. 

Here, we ran out of paper bags, so mommy suggested we make a "box puppet". 

Allan is very into cutting out and gluing. Anything to anything. Leave nothing unattended. Luckily the glue is really weak, but... the scissors not so much. 

Art is a ruling obsessinon and it dominates everything else in life. 

Especially sleep. I may have mentioned that Allan no longer cares for the boundaries of bedtime "lights out" or "staying in your room after said lights out". We placated her briefly with a much longer windup to bedtime and bringing in her crayons and journal to draw in. We're basically giving up any effort to get her to sleep more and just trying to preserve (1) our little sliver of grown-up time, and (2) mommy's sleep. Unfortunately the other new fun activity is for Allan to emerge from her room about a half hour after I've falling asleep yelling my name. Few days ago it was because she didn't know how to draw a warthog. Other times it's because she put her most favored red crayon down (she has an entire box of red crayons incidentally, but nevermind that) and can't find it anymore. I try not to engage. But, naturally, I can rarely just fall back asleep after rallying for my shrieking offspring. It might not be a predator, but some instinct in me will always respond with that degree of urgency. So it's not been my favorite new experience. 

Few days ago there was a small victory in that she only emerged while I was in the shower before bed AND she actually turned off her own light because "Goldrash couldn't sleep with the light on"... I expect no future victories, but I celebrate whatever comes. This morning, the light was still on. 

Over all she isn't exactly Miss Rise and Shine in the mornings recently. 

  

And the rest of the day can be dicey. Things will be going along just fine and then you look at her pancake funny and now it's no longer a happy face pancake and the lips are the wrong color and this is your fault ...

...and ACTUALLY, she's not yelling, she's crying and she's not hitting, she's punching, and these are totally different things and any mommy of hers would have understood that. I'm "not Allan's mother" quite a lot these days. In between her saying that I'm always her mommy and I'm the nicest mommy and she loves me sooooooooooooooo much. It's a little confusing. But I'm pretty sure I saw her come out of me, so I'm sticking with mother of a frequently overtired little firecracker.

You'd think "hey maybe this is a good time for naps to come back, but no. Naps are for kindle time. 

And kindle time is the enticement for cleaning the table after lunch. Just like dessert is the enticement for cleaning after dinner. And I'm not entirely sure what the enticement is for after breakfast, but there's always something. Mauling the cat? 

Poor cat. I am not the biggest Froggy fan (I have enough of tiny females following me around and yeowling at me in recriminating but incomprehensible tones, thanks, and I signed up for a cat not tiny long-haired dog that meows), BUT I think she is a living being who deserves love, kindness, respect and maybe not being flipping dragged across the floor by her tail. It is amazing Froggy hasn't mauled Allan, really. 

Kid sustains plenty of nips and scratches, but child, step off! Anyways we're now instituting disciplinary measures at preventing our child from indulging in her sociopathic tendencies and/or from getting seriously marked up by the kitty eventually. 

Respect to the feline world for understanding tiny humans play by different rules. 

Of course the excitment never ends in February. 

First we had Valentine-President's-Mardi Gras-Ash Wednesday week and now there's Andrew's family ski holiday. Well, it's a bit of an abridged family this year. His vaccinated brother just waltzed up from California and was like "get your poles" (which Andrew then forgot, ah well, but he did have his skis, which was a big win). 

No, for real, it was planned over the course of a month or so, which is good because skiing is friggin' popular this year and tickets have been going fast. Andrew even tried to go skiing in anticipation of the event, but Washington skiing remains cursed for him and he was mostly just stuck at the closed mountain pass for some indeterminate amount of time due to avalanche nonsense. But whatever else, he has broken the curse for now and I'm assured there is plenty of snow to be enjoyed at the higher elevations and it's all coming back to him now. 

Cue the cyclical reflections about how Andrew needs to ski way more often to get back into his original shape (and let's I guess hope the curse is gone and he can make it to an actual mountain most of the time because weekly 4 hours drives to nowhere seem... less helpful). 

But 2021/22 winter is looking good for said goals. We're not moving, we won't have an infant (no for real, it's virtually impossible unless one of our neighbors just tosses one in our yard or something), Andrew won't be studying for a test and looking for a new job, we probably will have fewer pandemic related issues restricting normal outings... and of course other shoes never ever drop.

 So no doubt things will all be stable and amenable to all the benefits of "stability". No doubt. Ok maybe a little. Doubt is kind of my thing. Just call me Kierkegardella. But I do believe there will be more ski attempts coming next year. And many more mountain pass closures! 

For Andrew. Maybe Allan. My body has pretty much sent me enough universal messages that skiing is not really a workable thing for it. A shame. I had some natural ability for it. But between the feet and hands turning blue and breaking out in chillblains (even with chemical heaters jammed in every crevice), the massive build up of damaged tissue in my arches, the fussy knee, the slipped disc in my spine, the various neuropathies and lord knows what else... I'm ultimately built for lodges and cabins and gentle walks. But, well, Andrew was definitely built for skiing and I'm built for wishing him well as he goes off to do it. 

In the meantime, he has a week to get his mojo back. And I have a week to make sure the child doesn't kill the cat. 

Which is to say, I'm single-momming it for the next week. 

But not before we got a special guest star appearance from Uncle Zach. 

Allan had a great time entertaining her "new daddy" and it was really nice to see Zach again. I feel like we mostly see each other in the whirlwind of bigger events and travels when I'm stuck between child herding and introverting out. Also, like when there isn't a pandemic going on. So little moments with the in-laws one on one are always enjoyed. 

We'll have more, as Gramma Lisa - who is also on the path to being fully vaccinated (unlike our household who will maybe be elligible in 2059 or so) will be coming out for Passover this year. So... hopefully we'll have gotten the residual melted plastic out of the oven by then, because man it is not usable just now. In time, in time. We'll figure something out. Hopefully. Or else maybe we can grill the paschal lamb or something on the BBQ? 

Before we get there though, let's just get through this next week. So far Allan mostly thinks Andrew is working in the study or sleeping in the bedroom. Every once in a while I remind her that he's off skiing and she says "oh. Is he with Uncle Zach?" and that's that for a while. I imagine she'll start missing him (I know I will) as we approach the weekend. 

Until then, a box hammentashen is on the way (pastries that are triangular to celebrate how the one dick who tried to kill all the Jews and got killed instead wore a triangular hat... don't f with the Jews, man), Challah bread is almost gone. Time to party!

 

Happy happy. Have a random cover!