that's not how it works

So, today it was reasonably nice outside, and I opened the windows and screen doors to get some fresh air in the house. It was quite lovely. But, The Boy kept closing the door! I would open it, and he would close it, and I would open it, and he would close it, and it was driving me totally crazy!

So, finally, I just told him to stop it. If Mommy opens a door that means she wants it open and he does not get to close it. He asks me why, and I told him "because that's not how things work in this house". Do you know what he said to me? He said "My don't like this house, my want to move". LMFAO!

forever 'n ever

Ahhhh, The Boy. The Boy has reached *that* age. You know, the age at which they don't need a nap during the day anymore, and yet they still desperately need a nap during the day. It's a difficult phase. We've been dealing with it by not forcing the nap issue on a daily basis. I figure, if he naps today but then doesn't nap tomorrow, it's all good. He's transitioning. If I remember correctly from when The Babe went through this phase, the silver lining is that bedtimes became much easier once the nap was out of play.

The Boy has not had a nap since Monday. On Friday, he was so tired that he actually just fell asleep on the floor in the family room at about 3:30 in the afternoon. I decided that come hell or high water, The Boy was going to take a nap today. I got home from errands around 1:30 pm to find that my husband had been unsuccessful at his nap attempts. The four of us sat on the sofa, having a little quiet time, when The Boy announced that he was tired. I pounced. "Great! Let's get you ready for a nap!" He protested. He is a big boy now and doesn't need a nap. "No nap, Mommy! My not sleepy! No!" He cried. But he needed a nap.

I got him upstairs and read him the sheep book and left the room. 30 minutes later he was crying. He had not fallen asleep, and he wanted out. I went in to soothe him and he pats his pillow. "You stay, Mommy? You sleep, too?" *sigh* It was very sweet. I told him I could stay a few minutes, and I laid down next to him on the bed. We were each on our sides, facing each other.

For those of you that haven't seen it, The Boy has the best napping room ever. He has thick red canvas curtains that let in just a smidge of light when they are closed. His room is very cosy and rosy and warm and sleepy at nap time. So, The Boy and I were laying there, cosy and snug, facing each other. I was pretending to sleep hoping that The Boy would catch on. I slowly opened my eyes and found The Boy there, just looking at me. I told him I had to go soon, and he quietly said "No, Mommy. Stay. Please?" I asked him how long he thought I should stay, and he said "Forever 'n ever, Mommy. My wish we could stay here forever 'n ever."

Me, too, little man. Me, too.

november, 2002

This past Sunday, my husband helped me to clean out and organize my closet. He is much better at this than I, as he is much less sentimental and far more practical. We got a lot accomplished. It's a good feeling.

In my closet I found an envelope of pictures. They are just casual shots taken of The Babe from November 2002. She had just turned one year old. Let me tell you... those pictures had me near tears. There is nothing unusual about them, but my goodness, the changes that have taken place.

Obviously, I recognized The Babe right away. There was never any question that it is her in the pictures, she looks in them exactly as I remember her looking. Except, and it's big... except that I actually *needed* the pictures in order to remember. Looking at the pictures, I remember every goofy face she used to make, I remember all the little toys that are strewn about, I remember all the little outfits she wore, and I remember how her hair curled around her face. But without the pictures, I had forgotten. And I felt like crying. How could I have forgotten so much? What else is out there, that I hope to God there is a picture of somewhere to remind me?

I look at The Babe now, and she is big. She is a five year old girl. She goes to school. She talks incessantly. She has a vivid imagination. She's enormous to me, and yet, really, five years old is pretty small. But... it's so much bigger than the one year old in those pictures.

It makes me very sad that I have forgotten so much about what it was like to have The Babe at that age. Our lives were so different, our jobs, our home, everything was different. But, wow, she was really different. I love her as she is now. Just as I love The Boy as he is now. I love how they both are growing up, and I love the people they are becoming. But seeing those pictures... *sigh*

my music mix

I was tagged by CK to list off what's in the CD player... Well, let me tell you, if you were to listen to the music in my car, you wouldn't know it was my car. The CD player belongs to my husband and the kids.

Here is what you will find:

Baby Einstein, Baby Mozart CD (I can tolerate this)
Radiohead, OK Computer (not too bad)
Tool, Laterus (there are few things I dislike more)
Ocean's 12 Soundtrack (I actually like this)

There are two empty spaces... perhaps I should fill them!

When I am in the car, I tend to listen to the radio, because I like a mix of things. I generally listen to the 92.5 "we play anything" station, because really, they do play *anything*, and their commercial breaks are only 1 minute long.

What would I put in? Gosh, I have no idea. I could listen to the Candyflip mix of Strawberry Fields Forever a thousand times and never get tired of it... but that's just one song. Maybe I'd put in Jellyfish, or Fishbone, or Weezer, or Cake.... Hmmm... it's been a while (like college maybe?) since I've bought a CD. LOL.

the line is a dot to me

I have always believed that all my toys and dolls have feelings. From my earliest memories, I just knew that my belongings had emotions and thoughts. I can not seem to throw or give anything away because of this. As evidence, I offer you the boxes and boxes currently residing in my basement, full of my toys and dolls from when I was a child. I have faithfully moved these boxes from house to house, and yet I do not open them. Suggest to me that perhaps I should go through them, give some things away... and you'll send me into a panic. I could not possibly part with these things. It's irrational, and it's weird. It's borderline just plain wrong. But, you see, these are the things I loved as a child. I believed in them. They belong with me. Nevermind that my husband has no such boxes in our basement and he seems to be perfectly fine... I am convinced that I need these things, and *they need me*.

Probably the worst movie for me to ever have seen is Toy Story. That just re-enforces all my ridiculousness. I had almost gotten to the point where I could maybe have been persuaded to give some things away, maybe to a shelter, so some needy children could also love these things of mine.... and then I saw Toy Story 2, and how poor Jesse never got over her owner giving her away. I cry through that whole scene every time. It just makes me believe that everything I believed as a child is really true. I wasn't wrong to assign thoughts and feelings to all my inanimate objects... they really do have emotion! Crazy, I know.

I am struggling with this more now that my children are bigger and I have many baby items that I should donate. I have a basement full of bouncers, swings, pack n play, and countless small infant toys, none of which are being played with; but none of which I feel I can part with, either. Crazier still, I know. But, my kids loved these toys, and now I have odd emotional attachments to them, too. Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo.....

So, today, I drove through McDonald's for a nice healthy lunch (ha!) for The Kiddos. The Boy got some toy that he had gotten before, one which, once he opened it and played with it he announced he didn't like - it was no fun. He got that toy again today, and I didn't even show it to him, it still sat on the counter in it's plastic. Seeing as how the one we already have is sitting on the shelf, not even being looked at, I decided we certainly didn't need two. I threw the new one in the trash.... and I've been feeling bad about it all day. That poor toy! It never had a chance to be loved, it just got tossed away!

OK, so I've always walked the line between sane and crazy when it comes to things like this. But today I fell so far over the line that, to quote Joey Tribiani, "The line is a dot" to me. I felt it happen, I know I am so far past the line now that I only hope I can get back to the safe level of crazy that I was this morning. Maybe this was the kick in the pants I needed, and I can finally start bundling things up for charity. I'm feeling good about it today. But, check back with me in 6 months and ask me how many boxes I still have...

so... what's your point?

Yesterday, The Babe walked up to me and just kind of stood there, expectantly, by my side. What's up with that? So, well, here's how the conversation went:

Me: Yes?
The Babe: Mommy? I love you.
Me: Thanks, honey. I love you, too.
The Babe: (still just standing there, looking at me)
Me: Is there something else?
The Babe: Well... (hesitating)... Mommy?
Me: Yes?
The Babe: I just wanted to tell you... well... ummm... my laundry basket is getting really full.

Hmmm... I see... and your point is....? LMAO.

raising him right

The Boy loves doors. open. close. open. close. Over and over again. If there is a door, the Boy wants to be in charge of it, be it at home, at the mall, the doctor's office, even the car doors count in his obsession.

Today, as The Boy and I were coming inside from seeing The Babe off to preschool, The Boy insisted on opening the front storm door for me.

"My get the door, Mommy. It's very heavy. You can't do it. You're not a big boy yet."

mixed blessing

When The Kiddos were babies, I loved to play with them. Obviously, when they are tiny, they don't do much... but I always loved to watch how they learned and grew and progressed while they played. I loved that The Babe would fold burp cloths for what seemed like hours. I loved that The Boy would roll the tumbler in the exer-saucer (lovingly referred to as "the farm"), watching the little beads inside roll around and around and around. I loved it when their play became more interactive with me, and I had a lot of fun.

Five years later, I am tired. I still love a good tea party, don't get me wrong, but I have been ready for the next phase for a while now... the phase where The Kiddos play by themselves and I don't have to be involved in every moment of their day. I've been ready to reclaim some of that time for me. I'd like to quietly read a book while my kids are awake, or even look through a magazine, surf the web, something besides Chutes and Ladders.

Yesterday I was tickled pink that The Kiddos had some kind of imaginary play going on in the family room. They were laughing hysterically, having a great time pretending and playing and being kids. I didn't go in there. I was afraid if they saw me, the "mommy I need XYZ", or "Mommy, play with us" or whatever would start. I listened for a bit, and then I had some quiet time looking through catalogs in the living room.

I made my appearance about 45 minutes later, and OH. MY. GOODNESS. The mess in that room! They had all the sofa cushions off the sofa, the kid chairs overturned, their snuggling blankets strewn all over. And - - AND - - all the decorative wooden Easter eggs were everywhere - along with all the Easter grass, ALL OVER THE ROOM.

Even so, I think it was worth it.

outside

I think every year at this time I will have a post called "outside". Didn't I do that last year, too? Maybe we should make it a rule. It's just that after being cooped up inside for several months, the first day spent outside always seems so special.

The weather turned reasonable here yesterday, a smidge over 50 degrees. The neighborhood came out to play, and it was really something. Since it was a Sunday, we had all kinds of time. We took our kids out to play after lunch, around 12:00. They played, and they played, and they played with their friends. They rode their bikes and tricycles. They roller skated. They played croquet. They had a picnic snack in the driveway. The kids caught up with all of their friends that we haven't seen much of in the cold months.

It was really nice for the parents, too. I felt social for the first time in months. One of the drawbacks to working from home is that I pretty much don't go anywhere. I am busy with the kids all day and working all night, and I don't have much time to get out and have adult conversation with people. But, when the weather is nice and the kids are all out playing, the parents come out, too. So, I spent a pleasant afternoon outdoors, talking, laughing, gossiping, having a good time with our neighbors.

The added perk was that for the first time ever, we trusted the kids to go in our back yard and play on the swingset without us having to be there, too. So, for a good chunk of time we didn't even see the kids at all. Add to the greatness of the day, there were only minor scrapes and injuries; which is pretty good considering how many kids there were and how rough they can sometimes play (and the fact that they were basically unsupervised in the back yard for a bit of time).

We finally brought The Kiddos in for a much needed bath and dinner around 5:30. That's 5.5 hours of fresh air, sunshine, and exercise! They slept like logs. It was a great start to what I hope will be a great summer season. : )

gross

Since becoming a mother, I have endured many, many instances of icky. I have done things in the last five years that I never would have dreamed of doing before I had children of my own.

I've been pooped on, tinkled on, vomited on. I've cleaned all sorts of poop, tinkle, and vomit out of carpets, clothes, bedding, car seats, cars, you name it. I've pulled half chewed food out of my choking child's throat. I've done all these things without batting an eye, because it's just what you do as a mom. OK. Maybe I batted an eye, but still... for the most part, considering how icky any of these things would have been to me prior to having kids, I think I've handled myself pretty well.

The Babe's tooth, which she should have lost last month, but certainly should have fallen out on Monday when it's partner jumped ship, was still hanging on this morning. For the record, today is Thursday. This tooth was so incredibly loose that it's mere presence in The Babe's mouth was causing her discomfort. It was twisting all about, every which way, if she would do even the slightest thing. She was insisting she only eat soft foods because everything else hurt. My husband and I kept telling her it needed to come out. She should just pull it, or let one of us do it; but this would send The Babe into a fit of fearful crying. It was like this all day. It was utter craziness.

I tried all my best tricks all day. She wouldn't let me touch the tooth, mind you, so I had to get creative. My first thought was that we could play a game of soccer, I could "accidentally" get rough, and give her an elbow in the face - just knock that tooth right out of there. Ha! OK, I didn't seriously think that, but it might have worked. What I did do was make her giggle so much that the tooth jiggled and felt funny, and then I could get her to play with it with her tongue. She could move it around so much! There were several times I was sure it would work. No luck. I tried wiping her chin vigorously after lunch (wow, honey, you sure got yogurt all over!) even though there was no mess. I even tried to guilt her. I told her the tooth fairy has been waiting patiently for this one for so long... she really should just help the poor fairy out and let the tooth go. Then I told her that our cat Cosmo told me that he wanted to see the tooth up close, that it was his one wish for the day (The Babe is big on wishes), and didn't she want to help make his wish come true? No luck. I wasn't surprised. The Babe insisted she wanted the tooth to fall out on it's own, and even though it was bugging her constantly, she could not be convinced otherwise.

I checked on her tooth after dinner, and it was actually hanging upside down in her mouth (it's a bottom tooth), suspended by I don't know what. It had a jagged edge that used to be neatly tucked into her gums, but not so much anymore. OK. Now, this is getting dangerous. I know right away that there is no way I am letting her go to bed with a precariously dangling jagged tooth in her mouth. No way. What if it fell loose during the night? She could choke!

I convinced her that she had to let me wiggle it. She reluctantly agreed, but insisted that I could only do it after I had washed my hands really well. That made me laugh, but whatever. I made a big production of washing my hands for a really long time, using lots of soapy bubbles. Once I wiggled it, it practically fell into my hand, but was still hanging on. I told The Babe I had to take it, and she cried. But, she very bravely sat still while I grabbed that tooth and just pulled. It took longer than I expected. For as loose as it was, dangling all over her mouth, it was hanging on by a pretty thick thread. I had to really pull, and I felt so terrible, and The Babe was crying, but I got the tooth out.

I don't think we've ever made such a big deal out of anything in our lives, but Daddy and I made such a production over how proud we were about how brave The Babe had been. She cried a little, but got over it quickly. The first thing she wanted to do was show the tooth to Cosmo, because we had made his wish come true. Thank goodness the cat sniffed at the tooth and seemed interested. It made her day, and she was instantly in a great mood.

The Babe's first lost tooth earned her a Golden Sacagawea Dollar. I thought that was pretty special. This tooth, however, the tooth fairy has brought an Eisenhower Silver Dollar and a packet of teddy bear stickers. Traumatic incidents earn The Babe stickers. That was a lesson I learned early as a mother.

Now, I'm not sure why... but pulling that tooth out ranks as one of the grossest things I've ever had to do as a mommy. You'd think that poop and vomit would have loose teeth beat, hands down. I am surprised that they don't. I think it's because I am always a passive participant in the poop and vomit episodes, whereas this time, I had to aggressively go after the ick. I hope the other teeth just fall out on their own.

behaving

Have you ever given your child a consequence, and then had trouble following through? I'm sure you have, right? I'm sure every parent has... Well, The Boy made it hard on me last night, for sure.

Yesterday I was feeling ill. So much so that I (gasp!) called in sick to work after I even (gasp, gasp!!!) took myself to the doctor. Nothing huge going on, doctor says upper respiratory, but I sure felt crummy. I bided my time by doing 3 loads of laundry, and I had them all folded in their baskets and ready to go upstairs.

As we were walking upstairs for the bath, I noticed The Boy's dirty socks from the day on the second step, waiting to go up and be put in the hamper. My hands were full of laundry. I asked The Boy to please pick up his socks and bring them upstairs with us. He said no. I asked him again, he again said no. Then I told him to do it quite sternly, and again he said no. I told him that if he did not pick up his socks, he would not be getting his dessert. The Kiddos are awarded a small treat each night as dessert as long as they have eaten dinner nicely and behaved well in the bath. So, I told him he needed to pick up the socks or lose his treat. He said no. Then, I quite clearly asked him "so, you are choosing to give up your dessert?" and he said yes. I picked up the socks and away we went.

The Boy was very good in his bath. He wanted his treat, as usual, afterwards. I told him no, and I reminded him why. Oh, the tears! The water works in full effect! The drama! I did feel a bit bad, but not enough to give in. He cried all the way downstairs.

He cried when The Babe got to choose her lollipop. He cried the whole time she ate hers. He was sad, and crawled into my lap for snuggles. I let him get extra hugs from mommy, but I did not give him a treat. My husband says The Boy is playing me to get the extra snuggles, and that may be true; but I haven't yet found the strength to turn away a child that wants to snuggle. 20 minutes later, The Boy asks me for a lollipop. "But, my being good, mommy! My be very very haave" He's somehow mixed up the word 'behave', so when he's been good, he tells me he's very 'haave' with a long 'a'. Get it? "make sure you behave!". I can see how it would happen. I again told him no lollipop, and again with the sad tears.

The thing is, I may have over reacted to the sock thing. I was feeling crummy. But I didn't ask him to do anything outrageous, and he really should listen to me. I did feel bad, and I did want to give him the lolly. I really did. But, I have seen children whose parents give in... and you know what? Those kids know that if they whine enough and pester enough they'll get their way. It's so irritating to watch, and I can't imagine if it were my child... anyhow. Whatever I did seems to have worked. The Boy came up to me before the bath today and asked me where his socks were. He wanted to carry them upstairs so he could be very very haave and earn his treat.

finally

Remember when I posted that The Babe was all growns up? Wasn't that ages ago? Why yes, in fact, it was January 19, 2007!

One of the reasons The Babe was all growns up was that she had her first loose tooth. Guess what? She lost her first tooth just today, and it's not even the one that was loose first! It's the one next to it. The tooth that was initially loose is still in there, hanging on to who knows what.

Can you believe this is taking so long? I am in shock. I don't remember it taking that long to lose any of my teeth.

Anyhow, The Babe was very good about it. The tooth just kind of fell out as she was walking across the living room, she caught it in her hand, and said "Oh! My tooth!". We shared some hugs and high fives, and then I gave her some water. Really, her mouth filled up with blood very quickly. I don't remember that much blood when I lost my teeth, either, although I do remember that it did bleed. Maybe I just blocked out the whole tooth-losing process? I seem to be at a loss on this.

So, tonight, we put the tooth in a little bear I bought years ago. It has a little pocket on his tummy with a picture of a tooth on it (this is where you place the tooth for the tooth fairy), and it has an opening in the back for the tooth fairy to place the prize money. The Babe named this bear Fred, and she seems disappointed that Fred is not a permanent addition to her animal family. I had to explain that Fred will only make appearances on tooth fairy nights.

I have already swapped out the tooth. The Babe will awake to find a "golden dollar", the one with Sacagawea on it. I hope she is excited by it. I told her the tooth fairy only deals in coins, but they are always special coins, not every day coins.

The other loose tooth, the one that was loose first, is so incredibly loose now, it jiggles when she talks. I think it was leaning on it's little friend, and when that guy jumped ship, this guy is left in a precarious position. I was certain he would jump out today... but I guess the tooth fairy will be making another appearance at our house in the near future.

keeping tabs

The Babe is a list maker. She keeps mental notes on all kinds of things, and always keeps it all straight. It's odd, and a bit frightening at times.

The first time The Babe made a list, it was so cute. She was two years old, it was just after The Boy was born and we were making a big deal out of the fact that we were a family, the four of us. So she made a list of the people in her family. She was #1, of course, The Boy was #2, then came Daddy, then Mommy. She added our pets to the list, and then went on to add in the Grammas and Grampas, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. The list became quite large, but she kept it all straight. We were amazed. She was two! She never got it wrong. If you asked her where Cosmo the cat was on the list, she'd tell you "#5!", every time. If you asked her who was number 17 on the list, she'd give you the same answer, every time. She never missed. It was scary.

Recently, she made a list of all her favorite colors. Silver, for example, is her fifth favorite color. The Babe has many, many lists that she keeps tabs on, and I find it to be very amusing. She's apparently a very organized little girl.

Now, today, she tells me that her Best Friend is our neighbor, Q. That's sweet, isn't it? But then she goes on... her 2nd Best Friend is C, from preschool, then A gets to be #3, and so on and so on. She's made a list of all her friends, in order of preference! Now, don't get me wrong... I know this is totally innocent and she certainly doesn't mean anything hurtful by this in the slightest. It was just two days ago that she asked me what the word "popular" means, so I'm not *really* concerned here. But, I did feel a need to try to explain to her that she should keep that list to herself. It's precisely because the whole thing is so innocent that I could see her at school, telling A that she's #3 on the list, behind C and Q. I don't want The Babe to hurt anyones feelings!

So I tried to explain it, and I am not certain The Babe "got it". She seemed to, and then she seemed not to. Knowing that the keeping of the lists is part of how she keeps herself organized, I don't want to make such a big deal of it that she feels bad about her lists, either, make sense? So, I wrapped it all up by telling her that usually people have just one Best Friend, and the rest are all Friends. She doesn't need to number them, everyone knows that Q is her Best Friend, and that's OK... I also told her that it was OK if she kept a list in her head, but that we should keep this one our little secret.

So... I'm thinking this is a real skill she has. What do you think she could do with this crazy ability to keep tabs?