done!

Today we had grilled cheese for lunch. Very creative of me, I know. Each child had a grilled cheese sandwich, a Dannon yogurt, and a few baby carrots. Monday, their Gramma L was over and she had brought some home made cookies. The Babe asks if she can have a cookie, and I told her if she ate her whole lunch, she could have a cookie. This kind of bribery works wonders on The Babe, and soon afterwards she proudly showed me her empty plate and bowl. She was granted one chocolate-chip-oatmeal cookie.

The Boy has been sitting there just picking at his food the whole time. He is hopeless. This happens a lot lately - I present him with a nice array of food for a meal, he eats maybe two bites, and that's it. But, he sees The Babe has a cookie! Why does she get to have a cookie? I can practically hear the whine in his grunts and gestures. He's obviously jealous, and he obviously wants a cookie.

I gave him a lesser goal than I had given to The Babe. I told The Boy that if he just ate his sandwich, he could have cookie. Forget the yogurt and carrots, kid, please just eat the sandwich. So, he smiles and picks up his sandwich. For a moment I think I must be a genius! It's worked! He's going to eat the sandwich! He picks up the first half of the sandwich, then the second half. He places them nicely on the table, proudly picks up his clean plate to show me, and says, plain as day: "Done!".

"i just couldn't control it"

Today as I am at my computer working, I can hear The Babe and The Boy in the family room playing. I hear The Babe commanding The Boy: "No hitting!" and again, "No hitting!" and again and again, louder each time. Well, soon The Boy comes into my office, and he is crying and holding his head. I ask him what happened, and he says "hit", I ask him what hit him in the head, and he says The Babe's name. She will learn quickly, I'm sure, now that he can talk she will need to be more careful.

So, The Boy and I go back into the family room and I ask The Babe what happened. She freely admits that she did hit The Boy. I love this stage of childhood... no little fibs yet. I ask her why and she says she was trying to keep him from doing something (what, I don't know), and she needed him to be careful. I suspect he hit her first, because what was with all the "No hitting" remarks earlier, but since she's not complaining about that, I won't address it right now. I told The Babe that even if she thinks The Boy is doing something bad, she has no reason to hit him, and I told her to tell him she was sorry. She did, and they shared a hug.

30 minutes later, I hear a small scuffle in the family room again, and The Boy starts crying, and I hear The Babe instantly say "sorry", but not like she really meant it. Again, The Boy comes into my office to rat The Babe out. The Babe is right behind him. I ask her if she hit him again, and she says "No, but my hand did. I just couldn't control it". OMG, it was all I could do to not laugh in her face. In fact, I think I did laugh. I just couldn't help it. Years from now, when I'm having a visit with The Babe's therapist, answering for this incident, I'll say I didn't laugh at her, but my mouth did. I just couldn't control it. Ha!

sunburn

*ouch*

Why is it that while I slathered my kids up several times today, I did not once think to put sunscreen on myself? How is that even possible? How could I be so aware of the danger when it comes to them, and then stand out in the sun all day without even once thinking about my own skin?

It's a weird phenomenon, but it has happened here. I cannot remember the last time I was this sunburned.

*ouch*

and we have... sentences!

The Boy has begun to speak in sentences. This happened rather quickly. OK, not quickly, necessarily, because he's 2, and has been struggling with this FOREVER, but quickly in the sense that one day he had a few words, and the next day - sentences. Just like that. Lightening speed.

Yesterday he looked at me and said "Mama please more juice?". I was astounded. I had never heard him speak more than 2 words together before, much less use the word "please". Daddy says they've been working on that one for a while. Little did I know.

Today he watched as I walked to the curb and he said "Mama get mail!", which is exactly what I was doing. Smart little fella, he figured that out after seeing me do it 100 million times. Darn if he doesn't know exactly what the box with the red flag is for. He's known for ages, of course, but suddenly he can say it!

It's all very exciting, and very cute. I am just loving this age. He is getting past the "I need my mommy every second of my existence" phase, and he is starting to play, and now speak, like a big kid.

I just love The Boy.

awake

The Babe is an early riser. She goes to bed around 7:30 at night, but is generally up before 6:00 in the morning. The good news is that she just goes right downstairs and "clicks on Noggin" (which is Babe speak for goes on the computer to play the games on the Noggin website) until one of us joins her, usually around 7:00 am. This has been such a fabulous arrangement. I know it sounds strange, but The Babe is someone who can be trusted in this capacity.

However, now we must add The Boy to the mix. The Boy moved from his crib to his big boy bed at the end of December, 2005. It did not take him very long to figure out that The Babe was waking and entertaining herself downstairs, so he has decided to join her. He does not wake as early as she does... perhaps she gets a 30 minute head start.

What's funny is that it is The Boy who taught The Babe how to turn on the TV, so now in addition to clicking on Noggin, they also watch it on TV.

I love that they do this. I enjoy being lazy in bed in the early morning, listening to my kids play and laugh and giggle by themselves. But, I have to be ready to jump out at a moment's notice. When the arguments start, it's our wake up call. But the 30 minutes of sweet sibling time is worth it.

hi mom!

I recently told my mom that I have been writing a blog. If I know my mother (and I think that I do), this means that this has been added to her list of favorites, and she will be checking it frequently for updates.

So, Hi Mom! Glad you're joining us!

why she is never allowed to leave the house or speak to anyone ever again

This is an actual conversation that took place in my home. Try not to laugh too hard.

Me: "Did you know you will always be my little girl?"

The Babe: "Even when I'm big? Even when I'm a mommy?"

Me: "Yes. Even when you are a mommy and have babies of your own, you will always be my little girl."

The Babe: "How do I get to have babies?"

Me: "Well, first you need to find a daddy, and then you fall in love, get married, and have babies."

The Babe: "So, Daddy and I will make babies?"

Me: (panicking) "No, honey, you have to find a different daddy, not your daddy... you'll meet another boy that you like and you'll make babies with him."

I thought I saved that one. But then the next day...

The Babe: "Daddy, Mommy says that you and I are going to make babies. When do we get to make babies?"

Daddy: "Oh, really?" (gives me a total WTF look)

Me: (Dead on the floor from embarrassment)

club house

Who knew life could be so fun?

Today The Boy took all the pots and pans out of the cupboard. He has done this many, many times before. He takes them out, he puts them in, he takes them out, he puts them in... over and over and over again. Well, today was different. He took them out, and he put himself in. He realized that he fits quite nicely in the cupboard, and he thought it was so much fun.

Leave it to The Babe to kick it up a notch. The cupboard is now their "club house", and it currently houses many stuffed animals and blankies. Nevermind the pots and pans that are residing on the dining room floor as a result.

The Babe and The Boy have been in the club house for a large chunk of the day. It's actually quite nice, they are playing and pretending together, even though one of them barely speaks. The Babe has also brought out her prized Disney Princess flashlight as mood lighting for the club house. They just love it in there. It's really been amusing for me, as I am listening to their "conversations" in the muffled tones coming from under the counter-top.

As an added perk, the flashlight has generated a lot of entertainment all it's own. I'm not sure The Boy has ever seen a flashlight work before, or at least he's acting like he hasn't. He holds it in his hand, turned on, pointing at the ceiling, and then runs around trying to catch the light as it dances all over the place. It's very entertaining.

mother's day

Mother's Day is this weekend. It makes me think, oddly enough, about being a mom. This could get long.

Being a mom is the best job I ever had. It's hard, but it's good. The Babe's new thing is to stop me, whatever I'm doing, and say "Mommy? I love you." How could you ever have a bad day when your 4 year old daughter says this to you 10 times or more? Here's how.

Warning: I know I am unreasonable.

The Boy is clingy. He's a clingy mess. He follows me around the house, insisting "up up up". I used to give in, but I can't anymore. The Boy weighs 27 pounds, and it's just plain unreasonable for me to be carrying him around where ever I go, whatever I do. He's two years old, for crying out loud! Just last week he had a total melt down because I handed him off to his daddy so I could use the bathroom. And when I say melt down, I mean MELT . DOWN .

So, I have stopped giving in, and it has been difficult. There have been many tantrums. I kneel down next to him, I assure him I'm still here, it's all OK, but I won't pick him up. This has led to many public scenes over the past few weeks, and I've had more than my share of stares from perfect strangers than I care to admit. The neighbors joke with me about "finally cutting the cord on that guy", and while I know they are trying to be funny and keep a dire situation light, I find it frustrating.

Sunday, I went to a tupperware party (side note: when did I turn into the kind of gal that spends a Sunday afternoon at a tupperware party??!!!). The party was at the house behind mine. The Boy screamed the whole time because he knew where I was, but his daddy wouldn't let him go see me. Just yesterday, as I was leaving to take The Babe to ballet class, The Boy had such an attack watching me drive away... he threw himself down on the driveway and screamed for as long as I could see in the rear view, probably longer.

Today, as I was leaving to take The Babe to preschool, daddy was trying to keep The Boy distracted so I could sneak away. Mission failure. I was caught. So, as usual, The Boy follows me outside and looks a little teary as I explain that I have to go with big sister now, but I will be home soon, please don't worry, daddy will keep you safe... and The Boy just stood in the driveway and watched me leave. He even waved good-bye! No tears, no tantrum.

Where were the tears?! Where was the tantrum?! See, I've been working for weeks to get him to be more independant, to not need me so much... it was my goal! My dream! And here were were, mission accomplished, and it ruined my day.

I know The Babe loves me, she told me 10 times today. But, The Boy didn't cry when I left. He grew up, just a little. It's what I've wished for, and it made me sad and happy all at the same time. Happy Mother's Day to me.

On a similar note, I'd like you to read another story that my friend wrote on her blog.

http://www.lalalaland.com/archives/mothersday2006_blogget/

Happy Mother's Day to us all.

gone

The Babe's favorite Aunt and Uncle were in town for about 3 weeks. They had been in Bulgaria in the Peace Corps, and we hadn't seen Aunt D in almost 2 years. Mind you, The Babe was just 2.5 years old when Aunt D left for the Peace Corps. They had a special relationship before she left, and I was afraid that The Babe wouldn't remember Aunt D while she was gone. I needn't have worried. They picked up right where they left off. Aunt D met and married Uncle R while in Bulgaria, but it's safe to say he quickly climbed the ranks to favorite Uncle. I even think that they rank as favorites for The Boy, although he's too young to actually say it.

The time they were in town was magical. They are terrific with the kids, they play every board game on the planet, they make up crazy games about hiding from sharks while in the clubhouse outside, they invented 'tickle gloves', they play crazy games with superballs... you name something a kid wants to do and Aunt D and Uncle R are game for it.

But, we knew their stay would be brief. Aunt D and Uncle R are moving to the Pacific Northwest to settle down and start their offical U.S. married life. I tried to prepare The Babe for this departure. She knew that Aunt D and Uncle R were leaving. The saddest thing is that we have no idea when they will be able to come back for a visit. It will easily be months, perhaps over a year, before we see them again. The Babe cried last night, as she sensed that my hesitation meant something bad when she asked when she would see them again. She cried, and I didn't even know what to do or say to comfort her. I felt useless.

This morning, Aunt D was packing up a few things for the long drive, and The Babe looks right at her and just says "Always remember..." and sort of trails off. Aunt D asks "always remember what?", to which The Babe answers "Always remember me." Oh, it was heartbreaking. I could have cried all day just for that moment.

I really can't describe it, but something magical happens when Aunt D and Uncle R are here. I am sad to see them go.

time out

*sigh* It is time to institute official "time outs" for The Boy. I never had to do this with The Babe. Not that she is perfect, but when she did misbehave, a stern "no!" would make her stop. But, The Boy is my little challenge. While he is a better eater and a better sleeper than his sister ever was, he is all "boy" in terms of fearlessness, roughness of play, obedience, etc.

The Boy is a hitter. He hits me. He hits The Babe. He hits the dog, the cat, the sofa, his dad.... He hits most often when he is not getting his way. He doesn't just randomly hit you, there is always a reason, but it is hitting just the same. It's to the point now that when I sternly tell him "no hitting", he just hits me harder. He recently hit me so hard that my glasses fell off my face.

So, you can see, it is time to institute official "time outs" for The Boy.

He really does not like the time out. I expect him to sit on the sofa in the boring old living room for all of two minutes, and you would think the world is ending. He cries, he screams, he whimpers and pouts. I feel terrible... but, ummmm.... no hitting!

When his two minutes are up, he gets a calm talk from me about why hitting is bad, and how every time he hits he will get one warning, and then it will be off to the sofa if it happens again. We are on day two of the time outs. I sure hope it works.