Having taken a small number of interesting but ultimately dissatisfying computer jobs since having left the Best Job Ever, I've just decided to try my hand at freelancing. I have a dream, you see, a dream of waking up at 10, of baking fresh bread daily, of working from home 20 hours a week on projects, and for clients, that I choose. The reality of making desperate cold calls and begging for ColdFusion maintenance jobs having not yet set in, I'm more than a little excited, and have thus resolved to resurrect this blog, however temporarily.

I suppose, as an authentic old school computer geek of the UNIX persuasion, I really ought to have my Very Own Blog software package running somewhere instead of this generic blogger.com domain, but, well, this is easy, and I'm lazy, so that's that.

It's amusing to note that some two years after having left nannyhood behind me, my children continue to refer to Uncle L as "Stinky Uncle L". Affectionately, to be sure, but it just goes to show how powerful my preschool branding program turned out to be.

Since I have a largish immediate family (1 sister, 3 brothers), there's been some light-hearted competition over who gets to be the favorite uncle to M and L. Having taken on the nanny position, I'm of course comfortably in the lead now, especially where L is concerned (M needing more discipline from time to time, it's unclear whether I'll come out ahead in the long run). Now, being the generous type, I offered an incentive program to my brothers. For a suitable fee, I would insert the adjective of their choice in front of all instances of the name of their choice in conversation with the children. For instance, Uncle A could purchase Awesome Uncle A, or more nefariously, Stinky Uncle L. Sadly, no one took me up on this offer; A theorizing that it would be more cost-effective to bribe the parents. The parents, of course, are unbribeable; Mercenery Uncle D, not so much.

I'll note that it's not too late to act on this special offer. Stinky Uncle L ought to be particularly interested. Oh, and while we're on the subject, M occasionally likes to fantasize about what cars he will buy his relatives when he makes a million billion dollars. Me, I'm content with the convertible E-series Mercendes-Benz I've been promised, but Aunt S, for instance, may want to consider whether she wants to end up with a Chevrolet station wagon or a Dodge Viper convertible sports car...

I've been cleared to post pictures of the kids, so here is the pony party, in all its glory!





M is not too enthused to be photographed, but L is more than agreeable.

I am so tricksy, I swear. So M was getting really upset with his sister last week over something trivial. I think actually she was a bit bored and was pretending not to understand something he was trying to explain to her. Anyway, he's become a little bit obsessed with winning recently (though could not, to me and Uncle S's great delight, explain the difference between winning and losing), so I tried a little psychology. You know, M, you're just letting your sister upset you (man, I heard that a million times when I was a kid). No, I'm not! Yes, you are, and the thing is, if you let her upset you, she wins. And you don't want that, now do you?

That stumped him. Figure I've got at least a few more days before he comes up with a clever rejoinder.

As far as L goes, I just inadvertantly discovered a surefire cure for angry tantrums. She's so cute when she gets mad, I just can't stand it. So the last few times, I just laughed and grabbed my digital camera and tried to get a shot off. But upon seeing the camera come out, she started mugging for it and then insisting on seeing herself on the lcd screen (she's a bit vain), anger completely forgotten.

So I totally forgot to post about this last week. On Friday, M goes to gymnastics class, which looks really really fun. They have this enormous bouncy thing they inflate and jump down, practicing forward rolls and the like. It looks like much more fun than the dance classes I had to take when I was a child. Anyway, the hilarious thing, to me, was this toy they had in the waiting room which L played with for quite a long time. It's just a big box with about a dozen panels in it, each closed with a different sort of latching mechanism.

I want to know who's the genius who thought it would be a good idea to design a toy for toddlers that teaches them how to open latched doors. Think, people.

Upon arriving home after work, E inquires of M how he behaved today. Were you good or bad for Uncle D? I was good and bad, says he. I give him props for honesty.

I've been trying to expand the food groups, with some limited success today. I told M I would give him a piece of chocolate if he tried a bite of the chicken curry I cooked for E and myself (side note: he and L found the dismembering of the chicken to be a delightfully disgusting spectacle). Can I just have the chocolate? No, it's a bribe. What's a bribe? Man, these kids are going to have the best vocabulary.

He ended up actually accepting a spoonful of the chicken curry, only to spit it out distatefully and complain of the spiciness. Still, it's progress. Hooray for me.

I seem to have developed super-senses as a result of my new occupation. I realize this because upon awakening late and sitting down to eat breakfast this afternoon in the quiet, quiet house, E having taking M and L off shopping or something, I'm distracted and unable to eat at first. Something is unsettling me, and after concentrating for a moment, below the chirping of birds and the distant drone of traffic, I imagine I can hear the wail of a child in distress. Surely E wouldn't have left one of the kids behind, I reason, but I have to go check the house anyway. Finally I open the door to the outside and can hear it more clearly now, no more than a murmur, but recognizably real, a child crying a few blocks away. Wow.

I put on some music and return to my breakfast.