the babe, the boy, and me....

new digs

2007-07-14T14:47:00.001-05:00

I've moved! Vist me here.

girl time!

2007-07-04T22:58:00.000-05:00

Hooray! It's time for another Girl Weekend! This weekend, I will be laying low with the rest of my girfriends at the lake. No kids and no husbands allowed.

Last time, I felt a lot of guilt about going. Part of that was likely because I missed The Babe's homecoming from her first day of school, but most of it was because I didn't want to leave The Kiddos. I felt bad about going. Well.. not so much this time.

A lot has changed since last time. First of all, I have left them a few times this year, and maybe I am just getting used to it. Secondly, now that my husband has a day job, I am solely in charge of The Kiddos for pretty much always. I need a break. I know we just had vacay in Disney, and that was terriffic, but it was not a relaxing kind of trip. There was no break. It was the anti-break, the absolute opposite of "break".

Now, what happens on the lake, stays on the lake, LOL, so don't expect a full recap when I get back... but here are the kinds of things I expect to be doing: eating yummy food that is not necessarily good for me, perhaps drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage (in moderation, dammit, my tolerance is so weak!), playing cards, gossip, beach time, boating, more eating, more drinking, more cards, more gossip, maybe a walk around the lake, oh, and perhaps we'll sleep.

I am dropping The Kiddos off at their Gramma and Grampa J's house on my way to the lake. Do you know how excited The Kiddos are? The Babe and The Boy have asked me several times, just to be sure, that I am just dropping them off - - I am not staying. They giggle with pure glee at the thought of a weekend without Mommy... Perhaps we all need a break, eh?

swoon

2007-07-02T23:02:00.000-05:00

Tonight as I was finishing up the bed time routine with The Boy, I gave him a goodnight kiss as I always do, and stood up to leave. I got about halfway to the door when he sat up, smiled, and held his arms out; so I walked back over to him and sat on the bed. He gave me a *huge* hug, he squeezed really tight, and then he held my face in both his hands and pulled me in and gave me a kiss. He smiled at me, laid back down, settled in with his babies, and looked so content - sucking his thumb and drifting off to dreamland. *sigh* What a nice little way to say goodnight....

there's no stopping her now....

2007-07-01T22:37:00.000-05:00

The Babe learned to ride her bike with no training wheels today. Phew! Can I just say a few things about this? (answer: yes Erika, it's your blog... say whatever you like). Thank you.

#1 - This has been a long time coming. The Babe is 5 and a half years old. She has been asking to learn all this season. We tried in the spring, but she got easily frustrated and discouraged. She went about a month without getting on her bike at all.

#2 - Kids are mean. It's been a few weeks now that some of the kids on the block have been making comments about the fact that The Babe still had her training wheels. Granted, two little girls on the block who are younger than The Babe no longer needed their trainers, but those girls also have older siblings; and we all know how much more quickly the subsequent kids pick up on things. But, I think that distinction was lost on The Babe, and she had really been feeling low, talking about how so-and-so had hurt her feelings, etc. Nothing like a little peer pressure, eh?

#3 - The Babe has been DYING to learn since we got back from Disney. In fact, she was talking about it on the plane ride home so much that we stopped at the bike store on the way home from the airport to buy the pole attachment for Daddy to help her balance.

#4 - Mommy simply would not do. Even though Daddy had a busy work schedule all week, The Babe insisted that it was he that helped her with this. I offered several times, especially during the week as the other kids kept up with their comments, but The Babe preferred to wait all week because she wanted it to be Daddy who helped. She was very patient.

#5 - Today was the perfect day. Not only was the weather great for it, not too hot, not too cold... but the mean kids weren't out. One family went away for the weekend, and the other family had visiting relatives and were otherwise occupied. We had the whole cul-de-sac to ourselves with no one else out looking over our shoulders, making comments, or making The Babe self-conscious.

#6 - Daddy is a very good daddy. They had set today aside for the event, and she has learned. She's a pro.

#7 - The Babe is braver than I thought. After she had learned, pretty much without incident, and was riding on her own, she had two crashes. The first crash happened because our 2 year old neighbor wandered into the street and she had to swerve suddenly to avoid him. I was proud of her, and told her if there ever was a good reason to fall, avoiding a child was up there on the list. The second time I think she just wiped out for no reason, and she got pretty scraped up. She cried a lot, but I was so proud that she got back on the bike and kept on trying.

That's my girl! I am so proud of her. She kept at it, through the frustration, and she was mostly smiles about it all day. She did really well, and she earned a new bike that she can use for a few seasons. The toddler bike has been put away... The Babe is so big... *sigh*

let's do the time warp again!

2007-06-26T00:25:00.000-05:00

We've just gotten back from a week long vacation in Disney World. I was very apprehensive about this trip for many reasons.

I do not fly well
I have never flown with the kids
Maybe the kids don't fly well
I haven't spent significant time with my family in years
What if we all blew up at each other on day 2
It's hot in Florida in June
I thought the parks would be crowded
I was worried I wouldn't like the food
What if someone got sick while we were away from home?

See? See all those reasons to be worried? Well, phooey on them, because we had a great time. I actually flew really well, the best I have in years. All I can figure is that I was so focused on The Kiddos that I did not leave myself room to worry. The Kiddos flew well, too. They were very excited. The family concern was a non-issue. In fact, I wish I had seen them a bit more. We generally rode the bus to each park together in the mornings, but then we split up. We saw each other at a few prearranged functions, but mostly did not. There was one regrettable altercation, but that was it. Not too shabby. The weather was hot, no getting around that, but it wasn't unbearable (mostly). We drank lots of water and the hotel had a pool, so we managed. The parks were crowded, but it could have been a lot worse. Plus, the fastpass options on the rides means you hardly wait in line for most things these days. It's really nice, especially with small children. The food was fine. It took me a day or two to get over my phobia of different foods, but the food was good and there was plenty of it. No one got sick.

We had a great time. So much so that I am motivated to make a scrapbook, which is really not very much like something I would do... but I feel a need to commemorate the trip, to remember it always.

As we were on the shuttle bus leaving the hotel and going to the airport to fly home, The Babe said to me that she wished we could go home and start the week all over. *sigh* Me too. The one thing I hate about vacations is how they exist in a vacuum. There is so much anticipation and planning, so much fun during, and then you get home and it's like it never existed... everything just falls back into place and it's as though you never left. It's a bit depressing, and is a big part of why I want to make a scrapbook, I want to remember it while it's fresh.

I'm with The Babe on this one... let's have a time warp! We'll start vacation over and have all the fun again! Or at least be able to remember it always....

flashback? flashforward?

2007-06-15T13:08:00.001-05:00

In December, 2003, while I was pregnant with The Boy, my husband and I signed all the paperwork and contracted to build a new house in a town about 40 minutes from where we were living at the time. We had done all the proper research on the new town: school districts, demographics, park district, taxes, etc... but we weren't very familiar with the town itself. The new house was slated to be ready in August 2004.

That spring and early summer, when we needed to get out of the old house so our realtor could have open houses or what-have-you, we very often drove to the new town. We checked on the progress being made on the construction of our new home, and we explored our new downtown area. The Babe was about 2.5 years old, and The Boy was about 2-5 months old.

Many, many, many times as we explored the downtown, The Boy would need to eat. I had found a little breezeway between two buildings that acted as a pathway between a parking lot and the main shopping section. This breezeway had a nice bench, was shaded from the sun, and was not very widely used. I sat there so many times nursing The Boy on countless different trips.

Flashforward 3 years. The Boy and I are downtown having a date today, just the two of us at the Starbucks while The Babe is in a class. We are just killing time until it is time to go pick her up. As we're sitting, bored, in the Starbucks, The Boy announces he wants to go sit outside. I say OK, there are benches just at the corner. We get to those benches, and they're right in the sun. It's super hot today and I was not interested in that. And then I had the lightbulb moment... and I took The Boy to our little breezeway bench in the shade.

He was tired. He laid on the bench with his head in my lap, sucking his thumb and clinging to his babies. I wished we had thought of it sooner, as we only had a few minutes to sit before we had to go for The Babe.

It was nice to sit there with him. It's kind of sweet that we have a little place of our own, our quiet little spot, right in the middle of the downtown shopping hustle. I know The Boy doesn't remember all the other times we've sat there, just the two of us, but I'll never be able to walk past it without feeling all mushy inside ever again.

acceptance

2007-06-08T03:06:00.000-05:00

Recently, a friend of mine blogged about the need to be careful what we tell our little ones. They are so easily accepting of our explanations of the world. She could not be more right.

A long time ago, I told The Babe that if she was awakened by a nightmare in the middle of the night, the best thing for her to do was to go tinkle. I explained that when you tinkle, all the bad thoughts and scary monsters go away with the tinkle and get flushed down the potty. I figured that I had killed two birds with one stone there: 1.) She believes she got rid of the bad dream and will go back to sleep with very little fuss 2.) She has tinkled, thereby lessening the chance that she would have an accident during the night (we were potty training at the time).

I don't have an explanation for why I made up such a story, and I really have no idea where it came from. All I can say in my defense is that it is very likely I was in a 2:00am haze when I said it. But, however silly it seems, it has worked like a charm, and to this day The Babe believes that if she just tinkles, all the bad thoughts go away.

Tonight was a killer night at work (look at the time I am posting this!), and The Babe was up a couple of times as I was still working. The first time she woke up was around 1:00am. She came to my office to tell me that she had lost her covers during the night. On our way back to her room, I told her she should stop to tinkle. That's another rule of mine, not related to nightmares, that if you are up in the middle of the night, you tinkle (you can tell we had our fair share of night time accidents, can't you?). So, we stopped, she went, and I tucked her back in to bed. But, at around 1:30, she was up again; this time due to a nightmare. Uh-oh.

She had just tinkled the equivalent of Niagra Falls not 30 minutes before. As I am leading her back to her room to tuck her in, she stops me. "Wait mommy! I want to tinkle it out!" So, I'm scrambling... I warned her that she might not have any tinkle left, but never fear! If there is a lack of tinkle, I can tinkle for her! That still counts! OMG, I roped myself into the ridiculous 'tinkle eliminates monsters' theory. Lucky for me she was able to go a bit herself... but I bet she remembers that my tinkle can be called upon during some future midnight tinkle shortage.

*sigh* Yes, we do need to be careful what we tell them... quite careful.

lying

2007-06-05T15:03:00.000-05:00

What do you do about the lying? He's just 3. He lies about stupid things, and he always gets caught. I want to punish him, I want him to know that it's wrong to lie, but I don't actually know what to *do*.

The Babe never lies. I swear. Even when she knows she's wrong, and she knows there will be some trouble, she'll look at the floor and very quietly tell you the truth. What this has meant is that she gets a small lecture on why what she did was wrong, but she is rarely actually punished, and she is so good that she listens to your lecture and takes it to heart. She almost never repeats the same offense. So, I am new to this whole lying thing.

The Boy, however, is a different story. He is defiant. He doesn't listen. And, he does lie. Today it was as silly as asking me if he could be excused from the table. I was in the laundry room at the time, and I asked him if he had eaten his whole sandwich, to which he answered "yes". So, I excused him from the table. I finished what I was doing and was distracted by something else, meanwhile The Kiddos are quite busy playing. It was probably a full 30-45 minutes later that I walked into the kitchen to see 2/3 of his sandwich still on the plate. So, I lost it. I know it's a small lie, but he lied just the same, and it's been so frequent and I am just sick of it. I yelled at him and I sent him to his room. He cried all the way up there and I told him he had better be quiet, too. I didn't want to hear it. I spent the next few minutes calming myself down and then I went in to speak with him.

I asked him why he lied to me, and his answer was that he didn't want to finish his sandwich. I told him if he had just told me the truth, that he was full, we could have worked out a deal; but that since he lied, he has made me very angry with him. I told him he can always tell me the truth, no matter what it is, and that we will always be able to work something out. He said OK.

But still... honestly, I am at a loss. What do you do? How do you stop a 3 year-old from lying? I know it's small stuff now, and it's easy to catch (I mean *come on*, if you're going to tell me you ate your whole sandwich, at least give it to the dog or something so I won't find it); but I don't want it to be a pattern. I don't want him to lie to me down the road about something that really matters... I want to nip it in the bud now.

ideas? advice? anyone, anyone? Buehler? Buehler?

we don't have it in us

2007-05-31T12:28:00.000-05:00

We just don't have it in us to be heartless. Not that we were planning on being heartless, but we can't even come close.

We have pets. We have 2 cats and 1 dog. We've had them since before we had kids... and before we had the kids, the pets *were* our kids. They were paid a lot of attention and given lots of love. Not that we don't love them now, but we are distracted, and the actual kids take so much of our attention that we don't have a lot extra to give. We are ready to be a pet free household. We love the pets. We will be sad when it is their time to go, but we do not plan to replace them right away.

So, the deal we made, my husband and I, was that we would not take extraordinary measures to save a pet. If we were to get bad news, we would do what was needed so that the pet didn't suffer, but we wouldn't go through extensive procedures and treatments. And we wouldn't be shelling out big $$ for lots of tests and things, either. We were going to take a 'whatever happens, happens' kindof approach.

So, today I have Marty, the dog, at the vet. He needs his annual shots and checkup. We are going on vacation in June and need to board him. The vet tells me that Marty needs his teeth cleaned, which I knew. We have not done that in a while. His teeth are so bad at this point that she says to not clean them would pretty much ensure a bad infection that could kill him. BUT - - she discovered this visit that Marty has a heart murmer. This has never been detected in him before, and the vet told me that sometimes they appear as dogs age due to deterioration of the heart valves, or other age related issues in the heart muscle. So, now, before they can clean his teeth we need to have a full work up on his heart. They can't put him under the necessary anesthetic without knowing what they are dealing with as far as his heart goes. She warned me that undue stress on the poor dog could cause him to collapse. As I said, we are going on vacation and Marty has reservations at the local pet hotel. Now, the vet asks me to be sure what the policies are there about how often they check on your pet, what exercise do they get, etc. Because now that Marty is old (13), and now that they know he has this heart condition, the pet hotel will need to be prepared to handle it if something were to come up.

We love our little Marty. We are concerned for him. We know his personality well enough to know that the mere act of placing him in the pet hotel will cause him lots of stress. The pet hotel is just that, a hotel. They are not equipped to handle an emergency should one arise.

So, my husband and I have talked it over. We will pay the extra money to have him boarded at the vet while we are on vacation. If anything should happen, they are 150% equipped to handle it. While he is there, we will pay to have the exams on his heart done so that we know what we are dealing with. And then once they know, they can go ahead and clean his teeth. This will cost us close to $1000, an amount we swore we would never spend in one lump sum on any of the pets ever again.

But it turns out we are not heartless. We don't have it in us to just let Marty's teeth rot into infection because we wouldn't have his heart tested. We don't have it in us to just let a heart condition that may be manageable go undiagnosed. We can't just leave him somewhere that wouldn't be able to handle a possible emergency on the premises if need be. Once we have all the info, we can make decisions from there... but we just don't have it in us to *not* do what we can. Marty's been a good dog, and we owe him at least that much.

so, now i don't feel so bad..

2007-05-26T21:20:00.000-05:00

Do you know how in the dawn or dusk, when the light streams in just right, you can see the tiny little dust particles floating in the air? I've seen this many times in my house, and while I agree it looks kind of cool, to me it's always been a reminder that I must not be a very good housekeeper. I really don't like to dust, and it doesn't happen too often.

But today, I feel better about it. Here is the conversation:

The Babe: Mommy?
Me: Yes, honey?
The Babe: Sometimes when I am just falling asleep, or just waking up, my room is all sparkly.
Me: It is? Why do you suppose it sparkles?
The Babe: I'm pretty sure it's Tinkerbell.

Isn't that sweet? So, now I don't feel so bad about how dusty my house is.

saving the day

2007-05-25T19:52:00.000-05:00

Today was The Babe's last day of pre-school. wow. Her last day. Next year is kindergarten. wow. As a treat to celebrate, Daddy told The Babe she could pick a restaurant, and we would go out to dinner. The Babe picked Red Robin.

In case you are not familiar, Red Robin is a family friendly restaurant, complete with balloons for the kids. The rule in my family is that you get your balloon on the way out the door, as a reward for being good and eating your dinner. For some reason, the balloons are always a complete treasure to The Kiddos. They *love* the Red Robin balloons, and play with them all night. It was extra special tonight, because The Kiddos got to pick what color balloon they wanted, and they got to watch the host blow them up. The Babe picked blue and The Boy picked red.

Once we get home, it is important to let Daddy tie a metal washer to the end of the balloon, so it stays weighted near the floor and doesn't get tangled in a ceiling fan, or lost in the 2-story foyer. Daddy tied a washer to The Babe's balloon, and as The Boy was waiting for his washer, his balloon popped. I still don't know what happened, it didn't appear that anything happened that should have made it pop, but it did. It was, of course, quite loud. The noise startled The Boy, and he looked as if he were about to cry, but it wasn't until he noticed his red balloon in pieces on the floor that he really let loose. He was sobbing. "My balloon, my balloon! My pretty balloon!" Now, there is a part of me that wanted to roll my eyes at this, but I remember being three. I remember when a balloon was special, and I knew The Boy was genuinely upset. I picked him up to console him, and I carried him to the other room so he wouldn't have to see his balloon pieces on the floor. As I was walking away with him, I noticed The Babe looked near tears herself. I am certain the noise startled her, because I've met her before, but I also know that she's sensitive, and when someone else is as upset as The Boy was, it really upsets her, too. I left her with her Daddy and took The Boy to the foyer where we sat on the stairs.

I was hugging him, telling him it would be OK, and that we could get another balloon next time we were at Red Robin, when The Babe appears. Her face is tear stained, and she came to give The Boy a hug, and she gave him her balloon. She gave him her balloon. I almost died, it was so sweet, but I didn't want her to give up her balloon, so I said, "look, she said she'll share with you. Isn't that nice? You two can share the balloon". And all three of us sat in a little group hug on the stairs and admired the pretty blue balloon in The Boy's hands.

This is when Daddy enters the picture, holding a new blue balloon that he had dug out and blown up with the helium tank we had left over from The Babe's birthday party. Thank goodness for the Party City balloon pack. The Kiddos' faces lit up. The Boy and The Babe were both so happy to each have a balloon. Daddy had saved their day.

But my day had already been saved, watching The Babe give her balloon to her sobbing brother, even though I knew she wanted to keep it. Not much compares to that.

gets me every time...

2007-05-24T23:55:00.000-05:00

Seriously. Have you ever had a TV commercial just crack you up every time you see it? The one that is getting me these days is, I think, for Traveler's Insurance. Have you seen it? Do you know what I am talking about?

It just cracks me up! Thought I would share:

watch it! I am telling you.... watch it!

total failure as a mother

2007-05-22T17:31:00.000-05:00

OK, it's not that dramatic. But, tonight I failed miserably at one of the basics of motherhood: macaroni and cheese.

The Kiddos requested mac&cheese for dinner this evening, but only if I "make it like Daddy". *sigh* This is the story of my life these days. Daddy is a very particular person, he pretty much has a set way to do almost anything. Daddy used to be in charge of things like macaroni and cheese for this very reason. But now that Daddy has a job that keeps him from getting home in time for dinner, I have to try to make all kinds of things "like Daddy", and it drives me nuts, because not even Daddy should have to make things "like Daddy", that's how insane some of these things are. So... macaroni and cheese.

We are a Kraft macaroni and cheese family because Daddy has declared it to be the best macaroni and cheese there is, and he is not going to have his children eating some kind of frou frou mac and cheese like that Stouffer's (which is my fav, by the way). You might be sitting there right now thinking I must be some kind of lug nut if I can't even make Kraft macaroni and cheese. Well, yes and no. The problem that Daddy has with the Kraft is that he hates the tiny little noodles. Being the hardcore Italian that he is, he needs to eat a larger, more substantial pasta. So, when Daddy makes macaroni and cheese he uses Barilla rotinis, and he throws the Kraft noodles away. You read that right. He just tosses perfectly good pasta noodles in the trash. So, making macaroni and cheese "like Daddy" means that they don't want the wimpy noodles, either.

So, I boil the water (score one for Erika. I can boil water). Here's where it all goes awry... I mindlessly dump a whole box of Barilla fioris in the water (we didn't have any rotinis... I was hoping The Kiddos wouldn't be so cruel as to reject the fioris). The WHOLE BOX. Do you know how much pasta that is? Well, first of all, I can tell you it is too much pasta to fit in the pot that I had all the boiling water in. It barely fit. Secondly, it is far too much pasta to expect The Kiddos to eat. I realized right away that I had made a serious blunder, and now I was going to need to double the sauce to accommodate all that pasta. That's two boxes of wimpy macaroni in the trash (score one for the mac and cheese... it got me on basic pasta measuring skills).

Basically, the pasta was done and I set it to drain. I made the sauce in the pan, and then tried to add all my mountains of pasta back into the same pan to mix it in with the sauce. Why I didn't take this opportunity to switch to a larger pot, I don't know. Too logical, I guess. So, I am trying to squeeze back too much pasta into a too small pot *AND* mix it up so that the sauce is evenly disbursed. I made a huge mess, spilling pasta all over the place: the stove top, counter top, floor, evrywhere. THEN... I didn't get a spoon to serve the mac and cheese into the bowls, I just tipped the too full pot and tried to guide the right amount of mac and cheese into each bowl. This is a good system that I have used often when there is an appropriate amount of pasta in the pot... but with overloads of pasta, well, let me just say that it all kind of comes tumbling out at once.

I swear, my kitchen was such a mess. It looked like I had let The Kiddos cook their own mac and cheese (hhhmmm... that's an idea.... ) and it actually took a lot for me to get it cleaned up. So. There you have it. Total failure as a mother. How on earth could I possibly have so much trouble with macaroni and cheese?

But... they ate it. So maybe it's not *total* failure... (I do have lots of leftovers, though. Anyone hungry?)

singin' in the rain

2007-05-15T22:55:00.000-05:00

Today was our neighbor's 40th birthday party. As a surprise, his wife emailed the neighborhood a while back asking that we all appear on their lawn and create a spectacle at 6:30 pm to celebrate, and she would serve cake and drinks after the surprise. Isn't that sweet? It turned out beautifully, lots and lots of folks showed up and I do think our neighbor was surprised. Hooray! The one damper on the whole thing (no pun intended) was the rain.

It rained this afternoon and was pretty cold by this evening. Right before 6:30, it started raining again. Everyone showed up with umbrellas and rain ponchos and we still had a great time, especially the kids.

Now, you all know me by now, right? I am probably the most paranoid person in the world when it comes to all things dealing with "sick". So, here we were, at an outdoor party, in the rain. Our neighbor moved the cars out of their garage, and we all pretty much congregated in there... all except the kids. The kids were, of course, fascinated by being outside in the rain.

The Boy went and got his tricycle and rode it all up and down the driveways, wearing shorts, a t-shirt, crocs, and a fleece. When he was done with that he joined The Babe and her best friend jumping in puddles. The Babe was dressed the same as The Boy, only she didn't have her fleece on half the time. Not that it mattered, they aren't waterproof, and by the time we went home it was just one more piece of waterlogged clothing helping to soak The Kiddos to the skin. They were actually pruny when I got them inside.

But, you know what? As much as I hate sick, and as much as I sincerely hope The Kiddos do not catch a cold from this, I almost don't care. I had forgotten. I had forgotten how much fun it could be to just be wet, to splash in a puddle to see how far you can make the water go, to run around like a maniac and not notice that you are totally wet, all the way through. It was like a little bit of magic to get to watch The Kiddos discover that part of childhood.

Even though it was far past bedtime when we came in, I did make The Kiddos take a hot bath before bed. The part of me that hates the sick couldn't send them to bed chilled through like that... but maybe a small cold would be worth all of the fun they had, and all of the fun I had, too.

mother's day

2007-05-11T01:11:00.000-05:00

The Babe made me a picture at school for a Mother's Day gift. The front of it is a print of her hand with a heart in the center, and there is a nice little poem that goes with it.

On the back, she drew a picture of me, and there were spaces where she had to answer questions about me. Her teacher obviously wrote in whatever it was that The Babe said:

My mother is _______ years old. The Babe answered 22. LOL
She likes to eat _______. The Babe answered lasagne. Correct!
I love her because _________. The Babe answered because "she gives me what I want". Hmmmmm...
She likes to ________. Work. The Babe thinks I like to work.

That last one has me bothered. #1, I don't really like to work. Who likes to work? But #2, it makes me feel like she thinks I would rather be working than doing things with her; and that makes me sad.

Maybe I am overly sensitive because I work at home, and it is pretty often that The Babe or The Boy will ask me to play Memory, or build a zoo, or have a tea party, or whatever, and I have to say that "Mommy can't right now. Mommy needs to work." I *always* feel terrible that I have to work and not play. I'd rather play. I feel as though they are trapped in this boring old house with a no-fun, has to work mommy... and now here it is. On my mother's day picture. "Mommy likes to work" *sigh* I wish it said "Mommy likes to bake cookies" or "Mommy likes to read me stories". But no. "Mommy likes to work". :(

new song

2007-05-07T14:26:00.000-05:00

The Boy has written a new song that he sings *constantly*. It is sung to the tune of "Where is Thumbkin" or "Frere Jacques" (which, because I don't speak French, I am sure I have spelled incorrectly).

Hello, Bobby Hello, Bobby
Come and land Come and land
Right in the middle Right in the middle
Of my diaper. Of my diaper.

LMFAO

writer's block

2007-05-06T23:49:00.001-05:00

Hi there loyal reader! I have writer's block. It's not that interesting things haven't happened, it's that I can't seem to articulate them into any sort of coherent thoughts in my own head, much less write them down.

I will tell you that The Boy has a horrible eye-thing going on and we have to see the opthamologist on Wednesday. The Babe has only 9 days of pre-school left and then I have to admit that she's a kindergartner. I had a new washer and dryer delivered today and proceeded to wash everything in the house. Perhaps best of all, I am currently watching Tommy Boy, which I could probably recite, and always cheers me up. Gotta love cable TV.

I will hopefully have more to share in the near future. Maybe it will even be interesting.

when do you feel...

2007-05-01T23:50:00.000-05:00

... most like a Mommy? What is it that triggers the "Mom" feeling for you? See, when I'm home all day, just in my house or out on the block, I don't really feel like a "Mom". Odd, don't you think? I mean, I'm home all day with The Kiddos. I'm out on the block watching The Kiddos. I'm in the back yard pushing The Kiddos on the swingset. Why doesn't that make me feel like a mom? Mostly, I just feel like "Erika, who is in charge of making sure these small children eat and make it through the day alive". I hear the words "Mommy, mommy, MOMMY" all day long, and somehow it doesn't sink in that it's ME they're referring to here. I answer, of course... but.... am I making any sense?

I do feel like a "Mom" when they're sick. I felt a bit "Mom-ish" today at the pharmacy, filling a prescription for The Boy, but I didn't feel very "Mom-ish" while at the doctor with The Boy. I felt like "The woman who needs to listen carefully", but that's all wrapped up in the part about making sure The Kiddos make it through the day alive.

I always feel like a "Mom" when I am aware that high school kids are around. Why is that? It's like I'm keenly aware that I am not in high school anymore, and even though I don't feel very old, I bet those kids think I am ancient. I vaguely remember how "old" I thought all adults were when I was in high school... and here I am.

Mostly, I think I feel like a "Mom" at bedtime, or any other such time when The Kiddos are feeling snuggly. Marita posted about her daughter noticing her smell. "You smell like mommy". I wonder if I have a smell. My mom had a smell. When The Kiddos cuddle up for stories before bed, when they are fighting for space on my lap... that's when I feel most like a "Mom", but in a good way. Not in a frazzled, needs a shower, has too many errands, can't keep the house clean kind of way (which is me all day), but in a comforting "you smell like Mommy" kind of way.

So, when do you feel most like a "Mom"?

how do you handle it?

2007-04-27T17:05:00.000-05:00

OK. My kids are generally good, but we do have a bit of trouble convincing them to care for their toys. They simply do not understand why they should not stand on things, or why things should not be chewed on or thrown or whatever. It feels like I am constantly reminding them to corral the small toys so that all the pieces do not get lost (remember Polly Pocket's flip flop?). I feel like it's a constant battle to get them to respect their things and treat them right.

So, today, The Boy was playing with his Etch-a-Sketch. He got it for his birthday, and he loves it. He just makes squiggles on it for now, but he really enjoys it, and I remember really loving mine when I was a kid, too. It makes me happy that he seems to like it as much as I did. He played with it for a while as I was on the computer, and he left it on the floor near my chair. Enter The Babe.

The Babe comes in to ask me something, walks right up to my chair, and just stands on the Etch-a-Sketch. All 50 pounds of her. *crack* We heard it. She broke it. It's just a small crack in the corner, but the little sketching doo-dad is trapped in that corner now, and no matter how much you turn the dials, it's just stuck. Broken. She broke one of The Boy's favorite toys because she cannot be bothered to pay attention to where she walks or stands. Now, I know he shouldn't have left it on the floor, but you can't tell me you don't notice that you are standing on an Etch-a-Sketch and not the floor. I simply cannot be convinced.

So, here's my dillema. The Babe is a sensitive soul, and she feels really terrible that she broke The Boy's toy. She started to cry, and she immediately told me she was sorry over and over again. But, the fact remains that she knows better. She's been told countless times that her carelessness would lead to something just like this. As a mother, I am torn. Do I comfort her because I know she feels terrible? Or do I punish her for being careless? And you know, I had an instant to decide.

I told her I knew it was an accident, but I explained that she knows better, and she needs to be more careful. I did give her a hug as she cried, comforting mode kind of took over, but I still can't shake that she got off pretty easy. The Boy does not yet know that his toy is broken. I can't decide what to do about that, either. Do I throw this one away and stealthily replace it? Or, do I make The Babe tell The Boy what happened, tell him she's sorry, and then replace it down the road a bit? I am leaning toward option #2, simply because it might teach The Babe to take responsibility. Yes. I think that's the plan. Thanks for helping me think it through.

making progress.... ???

2007-04-27T01:12:00.000-05:00

I should take the ??? out of the title, because it *is* progress. Really, it is. It's just that my lazy behind is in for some trouble.

We're in a potty training rut. The Boy's status has not really changed since July. He was so early with potty training, and we were thrilled... but it's been no improvement for so long, that I find myself so frustrated, even though he is ahead of where The Babe was at this same age. Generally speaking, The Boy has tinkled in the potty consistently since last July. He still wears a diaper for his nap (which there is no nap anymore, so I don't know why I mention it), and a diaper to bed. The nighttime diaper is always soaked in the morning. He will request a diaper if he needs to poop. He will not poop in the potty. Ever.

It is not unusual for The Boy to awake during the night. Most nights he sleeps through, but some nights he is awake. When he wakes up, he just sits in his bed and screams until I get there. Usually, he just wants me to turn his songs (it's a Bach CD) back on. Sometimes, he's had a bad dream. Always, as soon as I go in there and soothe him for a moment, he's back to sleep quickly, so it's not so bad.

Tonight, at around 1:00 am, I heard The Boy screaming. I was still awake working in my office, so it wasn't bad. Or so I thought. I got to his room, and he is sitting on his bed screaming. He says to me "My need to tinkle". I admit, part of me wanted to say "well that's what the damn diaper is for, don't bother me with this at 1:00 am!". But the part of me that is a better mother than that realized that I needed to take him to the bathroom. So, off we went... sleepy boy in bathroom. Peel off blanket sleeper? check! Pull down pants? check! Remove totally dry diaper? check! Prop sleepy boy up next to the toilet and hope he remembers to aim? (he did) check!... Now, put diaper back on The Boy while he is standing up, pull on pants, pull up sleeper, zip him all back up and carry him back to bed.

Of course, this has been quite a production, so now I have an entirely awake Boy at 1:00 am. "Mommy, my want to sleep with you" "No, not my room, Mommy!". Sorry, kiddo, but Mommy isn't even in bed yet.

So. You can see why I am torn. Of course this is progress. His tinkle woke him up and he realized he needed to go to the bathroom. But MY GOD, the middle of the night hassles this will create... *sigh*

The Babe still comes to get me when she has to tinkle in the middle of the night. Between the two of them, I may never sleep again.

cars

2007-04-24T23:33:00.000-05:00

It was not that long ago that LaLaLa Beth ruined the movie Cars for me. LMFAO. It wasn't her fault. How could any self-respecting mother of two small children not have seen Cars? It was utter craziness! At that time, we had just obtained our copy of the movie, and I just hadn't had a chance to actually watch it myself. That was, oh, maybe 3 weeks ago.

Now? Now, you ask? Why, I have seen the movie Cars probably 9,362 times. Not quite, but that's how it feels. The Boy loves this movie. Loves. It. It *must* be watched at least once a day, sometimes 2 or 3 times if The Babe is feeling generous. His favorite part is when they play "Sh-Boom" and light up the little city with all the repaired neon (now, I hope I didn't spoil anything for you, that's not really the end...) The Boy will come running from wherever he may be when he hears that song, and if he is missing it, The Babe will call him to let him know. Very Cute.

Anyhow, this has sparked a whole new area of interest. The Boy is constantly demanding that I go "super fast" when we are in the car. Ka-chow! The Kiddos have all kind of races, wherever they are going. The Boy talks all the time about "stinging like a beaver" I tried to correct him once. Once. He was having none of it. "No Mommy, sting like a beaver!". But today took the cake. Today for the first time, I heard The Kiddos arguing over which of them won the Piston Cup in the race to the bath. LOL.

Kids. Cars. It's a winning combination.

good to be home

2007-04-23T11:52:00.000-05:00

Well, my vacation is over. I did survive. I can be a person without the kids... I even practiced being brave on the airplane in preparation for our family vacation in June. I did OK until there was some serious turbulence on the flight there. I squeezed my husband's hand really tight and didn't say anything. What will I do when it's The Boy sitting next to me, and not my husband? I guess I will squeeze his hand tight, pretending to comfort him; when really it's me who will need comforting. LOL. Maybe it won't be so bad.

So, vacation was good. I went to bed early whenever I wanted. I took a nap some of the days. I slept until I was ready to get up (which is never past 8:00 there, but still...) I didn't have to listen for anyone crying during the night. I ate good food. I had breakfast every day - - eggs, bacon, hash browns, oatmeal, coffee, juice. In fact, we ate so well at breakfast each day that we didn't eat again until dinner. 2 meals a day might have been a bit of a money saver if it hadn't been for my absolute need for a Starbucks Chai each and every day. Those are expensive anyways, but the Starbucks in the hotel is WAY overpriced.

I did a lot of walking and managed to NOT get bad blisters or arthritic knees. We probably walked 5-10 miles each day, just going back and forth from place to place to place. Vegas is like that, and we never cab it. We are walkers.

All in all, it was a great trip. I am not any richer than when I left, but I am not any poorer, either. I had a nice time with my husband. I missed my children and felt a bit refreshed and ready to be back home and tackle the day to day with them again.

Now... we start preparing for Disney World... June, 2007. Sooner than you think...

vacation

2007-04-14T13:04:00.000-05:00

My husband and I will be going on vacation this week. Unlike last time, when we stayed home and I felt all weird looking at my office and not working, we are actually leaving town. We leave on Sunday and get back on Friday. No kids allowed.

I have been looking forward to this trip for a long time. We did not get away at all last year, and it shows. We are tired. We could use a break. We need to just have grown up time, so we can act like kids, LOL. I want to sleep as late as I want, eat whatever I want, do whatever I want. I want to have a meal without arguing with someone over how much is an appropriate amount to eat, and without dealing with the tears that come when I say "no you may not be excused, please eat more ______".

But, I am dreading it at the same time. First of all, I don't fly well. So the airplane ride really puts a damper on things for me. I get through the first ride there, and then I have fun, but hanging over my head is the fact that I still have one more airplane ride to go. Argh. At least this time I can be my regular nervous self. Come June, when we vacation with the kids, I will have to be Brave Mommy and act like flying is no big deal at all... while inside I will be melting from the fear.

Besides the airplane ride, though, is the sense that I don't really want to leave The Kiddos. Yes, they are the ones from whom I am planning an escape. They are a big reason why I need this vacation... but they are the ones whom I hate to leave. I don't like the idea of missing anything that happens, and I worry about not being there in case something *does* happen. I thrive on the comfort and routine of home as much as they do, and leaving it, and leaving them, does not sit well with me. But, it's not the first time, and it won't be the last... they have a wonderful time without us here.

Just today, The Babe told me "Mommy, I can't wait for tomorrow", and I asked her why. She said "because Gramma is coming for a WHOLE WEEK!". The fact that my husband and I are leaving is like a foot note to the fact that Gramma will be here for a whole week, so I know The Kiddos will be fine. I think I will be, too. I hope.

laugh or cry?

2007-04-07T11:43:00.000-05:00

Two posts in two days! Can you believe it? It's so unusual, and if the story I am about to tell you hadn't happened, and if I didn't feel the need to get it down while it was still fresh in my head, I would never be posting again so soon.

This morning, The Babe and The Boy were playing together in the living room, which is right at the bottom of the stairs. I was upstairs getting dressed, and Daddy had just gotten out of the shower, so The Kiddos were unsupervised. The Boy starts wailing. Really crying, and saying "Owwwiiiee, Owie!" over and over through the tears. The Babe is talking to him soothingly (is that a word?), and it sounds like she is trying to explain something, but I can't quite catch it. All I heard was "why did you ask if that's not what you wanted".

I come out of my bedroom and look over the railing to the foyer, and I can see The Kiddos near the bottom of the stairs. The Boy is lying on the floor, crying, kind of rolling back and forth. He is holding is leg or arm or tummy, I can't quite tell. So, I ask The Babe what happened. She tells me, talking a mile a mintue "I was so confused, Mommy. He asked me to kick him, and I didn't understand why he would want me to kick him, but he asked me to kick him", and then she starts to cry. The poor Babe is thoroughly freaked out that she kicked The Boy, for no reason other than that he asked her to; and that he was hurt, and she felt so terrible and she just burst into tears and was more inconsolable than he was.

I rushed downstairs and soothed her a bit, and she clung tight, sobbing. Meanwhile Daddy had come out of the bedroom, and The Boy was still rolling on the floor saying "owie", so I sent The Babe up to her Daddy while I comforted The Boy. I can hear The Babe upstairs "But I thought he asked me to kick him, I thought that's what he wanted". The Boy says he didn't ask to be kicked. So, there was apparently a big misunderstanding.

The Boy is fine. She kicked him in the leg, and he has a small bruise, but he recovered very quickly. The Babe was very shaken up by the whole thing. Part of me wanted to burst out laughing because the whole situation was so ridiculous! I mean honestly, even if he asked to be kicked, I can't believe she did it! But, the fact that she was so remorseful made it easier to keep the laughs inside. Frankly, I'm proud of her. It speaks volumes to me that she felt so terrible about it. The Boy went upstairs to find The Babe and he gave her a big hug. That helped her to feel better, too.

wondering...

2007-04-06T22:33:00.000-05:00

I am wondering what it might be like to have more children. I love my kids. It's nice that we have one of each, a Babe and a Boy. Their age difference is pretty ideal. They get along really well most of the time. They are thoughtful and considerate, well-behaved little gems. I love them dearly. I love our family dynamic. We are a content group. Four seems to be a good number for us.

But....

My husband and I are taking a vacation next week. Much needed. We will be leaving The Kiddos in the care of Gramma L. I realized today that the last time we had a vacation, The Babe was about the age that The Boy is now. Not exact, but almost. Wow. For some reason, that really hit me. I think it is because I thought of her as so big, even back then. Does that mean I have to admit that The Boy is so big now? He went to his gym class without me, and was FINE. He's big. I should just deal with that and move on.

Many of my Gardening Mommy friends are pregnant, and when I hear about doctor visits or pregnancy talk, a part of me wants it to be me. I want to experience all that again... even the yucky parts. I feel a bit jealous. This week, a fellow Gardening mommy had a baby girl. She talked about taking the baby home from the hospital and I felt really remorseful that I don't have a baby to care for. I love the teeny-tiny infant stage so much, even the no sleep and the constant nursing. I miss it and The Kiddos are SO BIG now (did I mention that?).

But, we are a happy group of four. I have been digging deep and thinking hard. I honestly think that while I enjoyed the experience of being pregnant and I long for a teeny baby to care for, I don't really want another real live person in this house. Let's face it, that teeny baby will grow up, too.

I will just have to be content to hold the babies of my friends, and then go home to my perfect family of four. And you know what? I am content. Things here are just right.

big day

2007-04-03T23:04:00.000-05:00

Today was The Boy's first class without me. *cry* I knew it would be harder on me than it would be on him. I knew that. But I wasn't really prepared for that.

I signed The Boy up for a class called "Kids on the Move". It is for 3 year olds and the purpose of the class is to prepare the kids for being in classes without a parent around. The Boy had been taking a class called "Mini-Gym", which is essentially the same as Kids on the Move, except for the fact that I was there with him in Mini-Gym. We did everything together. Kids on the Move is in the same room with all the same equipment and has one of the same teachers. It could not have been a more ideal situation for his first experience sans parent.

The teacher, Miss Rosie, met us all in the lobby area and explained the rules. She had the kids line up and follow her into the room. I just stood there and waved to The Boy, and he smiled, waved back, and trooped into the room. When the class was over, Miss Rosie led the group back out into the lobby. I could see The Boy looking around for me, so I waved, and he instantly smiled, waved back, and ran over. "My love to go to gym class by myself. My had fun!"

So, it was a success, teary eyed mommy notwithstanding.

The Babe also had a big day. Today she swung on the swing all by herself. I know we are late with this milestone, but she has insisted that she needs a push. We decided that she wouldn't get pushes anymore because the problem wasn't that she couldn't swing by herself, it was that she wouldn't swing by herself. The result of our resolution had been that The Babe would just sulk off and not swing at all. But today, she did it! I must tell you I am so relieved, and The Babe was very proud. She made me promise to let her tell daddy herself, and we are all just tickled pink.

little surprises

2007-04-01T22:44:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, The Kiddos surprise me. Sometimes, I am expecting the worst and I get the best instead. Of course, sometimes, it turns out the other way around... but let's not focus on that.

This past weekend, Gramma J and Grampa J were supposed to come for a nice long visit. That's not how it played out. Grampa J fell. He spent a few days in the hospital instead of at my house. He is doing well and is at home, and for that we are very grateful. We love you, Grampa J! But, The Kiddos were a tad disappointed when they got the news that the much anticipated visit was a no-go. I expected that. I knew they would be disappointed, and honestly, if they hadn't been disappointed, I would have been disappointed in that, if that makes any sense at all. But, The Boy surprised me. He asked a lot of questions that I never expected out of a three year old. "How did Grampa fall?", "Was the floor slippery?", "Where is Grampa hurt?"... don't those seem like such big boy questions? I had not told The Kiddos that Grampa was in the hospital. I had simply said that he fell and was hurt, and he needed to rest in bed. But Grampa told them he was in the hospital when they spoke on the phone. I expected that this would frighten The Kiddos, but it did not. They surprised me. They asked if the doctors were helping to make Grampa better, and when I said yes, they seemed content with that.

Now, since Gramma and Grampa J could not come, I had a weekend of time to fill. As it turns out, Grampa D is starting his own business; a retail menswear store. I took The Kiddos to see Grampa D's store. It is due to open this Wednesday, and daddy has been going every day to help Grampa get ready. The Kiddos were excited to see the store, and I was glad to have somewhere to go. How long would you expect a small, half full, menswear store to entertain your kids? I thought we had 20-30 minutes, tops. The Kiddos surprised me. During our visit, I started to help get things ready... items tagged and labeled, taken out of plastic, etc... 2.5 hours later, my kids were tired, but still behaving very well! They had found it to be very entertaining to help with the trash, and had kept themselves busy.... no TV, no toys, no books, and almost no attention. They helped Grampa with his store, and they are proud that they did.

This evening, The Boy had an accident. He wet his pants, which does not happen often. We got him changed right away and moved along with our evening. At bedtime we found that his blue babies were soaked. Ummm... uh-oh. We hadn't realized that when The Boy wet his pants he had also wet his babies. The babies have been an absolute bedtime necessity for quite some time, about two years. I am sure you would agree, but I could not let The Boy take the tinkle-soaked babies to bed. I explained this to him, and he was upset. He was disappointed. But he handled it well. He surprised me. I told him I would put them in the wash and bring them to him as soon as they were "nice clean". He seemed OK with that, in a quiet and sad way. Then The Babe shows up. She had already been tucked into her bed, but she overheard about The Boy and his babies. She appears in The Boy's room with one of her favorite stuffed animals, and says "I just wanted to offer to let him sleep with Puppy, since he can't have his babies". The Babe surprised me with her compassion and generosity. The Boy said thank you to The Babe, and everyone fell asleep just fine.

The Kiddos surprised me a lot this weekend. It's been good.... and I love them very much.

that's not how it works

2007-03-27T16:17:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-24T18:13:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-21T23:30:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-21T10:34:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-19T16:55:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-03-18T16:22:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-15T00:19:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-13T23:22:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

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

2007-03-08T22:56:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-07T17:35:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-05T22:58:00.000-06:00

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

2007-03-01T23:21:00.000-06:00

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?

no, she's not sick...

2007-02-28T00:25:00.000-06:00

Today we went to the dentist. After this incident last August, we realized that The Babe needed to be medicated prior to seeing the dentist because of her heart murmer. So, yesterday I dutifully filled the prescription and placed it in the fridge because they said it would taste better cold.

Apparently, I had neglected to talk to The Babe about this need for medicine. I am surprised at myself, and then I felt really on the spot to come up with a good explanation as to why she needed this medicine. She has seen the dentist several times before, but has never had the real cleaning with the metal tools. All those times, she never took any medicine before going to the dentist, so obviously, she was wondering what was up. Add to this that I have always told The Kiddos that "the medicine will help you feel better" or "you have to take this because you are sick", and now I have two kids wondering what's "wrong" with The Babe. Why does she need the medicine...

The necessary timing of this medicine in relation to the dentist visit was such that I was giving her the medicine as we were driving the 45 minutes to our dentist. Don't worry, my husband was driving, but it was still an awkward place to try to explain that no, she's not sick. I told The Babe that she will need the medicine now every time she sees the dentist. She asks why The Boy doesn't need it, why don't I need it, what about Daddy? No, none of us need it, just you. But you're not sick. Well then she wants to know if she's not sick, why does she need medicine. It was just so hard to explain. I don't want her to feel defective or broken or that she's somehow malfunctioned.... but the bottom line is she has a condition that requires this.

I reminded her of how we sometimes go see the special doctor who takes movies of her heart. I told her that none of us ever need that, just her. I told her that she gets to have movies made of her heart because her heart is very unique, and it's part of what makes her special. But, that it also means that she needs to take the medicine before the dentist to keep her from getting sick. I told her it was like a shield. Her heart is special and needs special care.

And then there's The Boy... "My special, too, Mommy! My special!" sigh. It was just so hard to explain, and I wish I had thought about it ahead of time. I hope she doesn't feel too different. She did say the medicine tasted good, so at least there's that. Oh, and the dentist says both kids have great teeth.

happy birthday, little man!

2007-02-26T00:01:00.001-06:00

25 Feb is The Boy's birthday. He is three years old. Already.

When I was pregnant with The Boy, I was afraid. There was no question that we wanted to have more than one child, so getting pregnant pretty much on schedule was never even questioned. Once I was pregnant, however, I became more and more afraid. I had carved out a pretty nice family already. I had a beautiful daughter who, at 18 months, had begun to sleep and eat predictably. I had a semblance of routine and balance. Everything was working. Why, oh why did I mess with that? Why would I throw a baby into the mix and "ruin" everything? I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't love The Boy as much as I loved The Babe. How could I love anything as much as I loved her?

Compounding the fear was the fact that The Boy was, well, a boy. I never had brothers growing up. I didn't know what to do with a boy. I didn't care for trucks or rough play, I knew about dolls and animals and tea parties. What would I do with a boy? I was afraid. I was very afraid right up to the moment The Boy was born, and then even still afraid a bit while I was in the hospital.

I laugh at that fear now. The Boy came home from the hospital and fit right into our family. I cannot imagine our lives without him in it. Plainly put, I love The Boy.

I love that when he needs to have his fingernails cut, he tells me "Mommy, my need toenails!". He calls my fingernails "toenails", too, and he is very disappointed if they are not painted red. I love his laugh. It's so deep down and true. I love that when he dances, he bends his knees and bends his waist from side to side, moving his arms as he goes. I also love that he turns circles with his eyes closed until he's so dizzy he can no longer stand. I love that he knows when I need a latte, and that when we are at Starbucks he wants to put his own things in the trash. "My do it myself, Mommy. Leave my alone."... and he toddles off to the trash can, looking over his shoulder now and then to make sure I am watching him. I love that he's so proud of himself when he gets back to our table, and he always gives me "five".

I love how The Boy plays. Not only does he love his cars, trains, and trucks; but he sure loves to have a good tea party. I love that he will make me sandwiches with the play food and pour me tea. He always asks if I need cream and sugar, and he always puts them in my tea no matter if I wanted them or not. I even love that he wants to jump off furniture and roll around and wrestle on the floor. I love that he's taught The Babe to let loose and play a little rough once in a while.

I love that he's so in love with his sister that he wants to try whatever she's trying, do whatever she's doing. I love that he gives her a hug and a kiss every night before bed, and that he always says "goodnight, Dizzy", even if she's not listening. He has to do this. I love that if he forgets to kiss her goodnight, he insists on getting out of bed to go to her room and give her the kiss. I love that he can't fall asleep unless he's completed the ritual.

I love that he loves his bath so much that the mere suggestion of skipping the bath sends him into a frenzy. I love that he insists he needs to watch Lazy Town before his nap, but then doesn't watch because he's too busy playing. I love that when you tell him it's nap time, he gets really upset because he "missed" the show, even though it was on the whole time.

I love that he has his baby blankets, his "babies", and that they go everywhere with us. I love that the edges are frayed and the fabric is super soft from all the washes. I love that the blue babies are his favorites, but the green ones will do in a pinch. I love that he sometimes puts his babies in time out, and tells them "Two minutes, no playing!", as he walks away.

I love that The Boy is a snuggler. I love that a day doesn't go by when he hasn't curled into my lap for a good long hug. I love that he comes down from his nap each day, all warm and rosy from sleep, and the first thing he does is curl up beside me, wherever I may be. I love that I still get to hold him and snuggle with him when he's very quiet like that.

I love that at random points throughout any given day, The Boy will call out "Mommy?? Take me to my gym class!", and I have to answer "I'll take you when it's time!", and he bursts into a fit of giggles. I think he does understand that his gym class is just once a week, but I love that he's made up this fabulous little game and he thinks it's so funny.

I love that I now have a new appreciation for trucks and interesting cars. I never dreamed I would care, but I love that I find myself genuinely oohing and aaahing over the great big semi trucks, and I love that his whole day can be made just by spotting some sort of construction vehicle, especially if it's "working". I love that I am sometimes in the car without The Boy, and am still excited when I see a cool truck go by. I love that he has changed my perspective on so many things.

I love The Boy. I love him more than I can say and for more reasons than I can list. Happy Birthday, little man, I love you very much.

bobby

2007-02-24T00:55:00.000-06:00

The Boy refers to his penis as his 'bobby'. I am not sure how that came about, but there it is.

Recently, he's been noticing that his bobby will sometimes be, ahem... well... different than it's normal flacid self. He notices this, and he announces it, no matter where we are or what we're doing... "Mommy! My bobby is out! My bobby is out!" He doesn't really like it when his bobby is out, and he pulls his pants down to try to put his bobby back in. This has always made me giggle, and I have never really known what to do about it. I always tell him that if he would just leave his bobby alone, that it would go back in by itself, but he never believes me. He has to pull his pants down and try to put it back himself. I've always figured, C'est la vie! He's just a little guy, he'll learn. I never let it bother me too much. Until...

Have you ever been walking through Woodfield Mall with your 2-year old son proclaiming "Mommy! My bobby is out, my bobby is out!", and then you find yourself trying to convince him that now is not the time to be pulling his pants down to put it back in? Have you? Well, I have. It's actually funnier than it sounds, too.

silly

2007-02-21T00:00:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I introduced The Boy to the library. "Library, meet The Boy. The Boy, meet Library". He chose three books that time, and we read those three books every nap time and bed time for the three weeks we were allowed to have them. He was exceedingly sad when we went back to return them. "But my like those books, Mommy. My keep those books". He was somewhat cheered up by the idea that we could get different books that day, next time we came we could get even more new books, and sometimes we could bring home a favorite book, too. He picked out three new books to bring home that day.... I believe it was last Thursday.

So, one of the three new books seemed to be the stand out favorite, and the other two have not been read as much. But, the "sheep book", as he calls it, has been read before every nap and every bed time since Thursday. Today is Tuesday, in case you're keeping track. So, tonight I read the sheep book before bed. I finished the story and I leaned in to kiss The Boy goodnight, and he says "My don't like that book, Mommy". He's very serious. What do you mean you don't like this book!?? How have I been reading it twice a day for all this time? You don't like it!!!?? Plus, why would you give a pet name to a book you don't like? Why have you been acting interested in it all this time?? Still...."My don't like that book".

I've been laughing about it all night... I guess another trip to the library is in the near future.

wisdom

2007-02-19T22:36:00.000-06:00

Do you think it's possible that we are all born knowing certain things to be true... laws of nature or what-have-you, and then we slowly un-learn some of these things as we age? I do. I also believe that it is part of the job of a child to remind the adults around them of these things. Children are wise.

If you ask The Babe what she wants to be when she grows up, she proudly answers that she wants to be "a Mommy". She says it with awe. Her tone of voice displays respect, almost reverence.... as though being a mommy is something to which you need to aspire, something special, magical, as though it is the best thing she can think of. I used to think it was cute and funny how seriously she takes it, but you know what? I really think she knows something. She's trying to remind me.... and she's right.

Somewhere, along the road, in all the "tasks" that make up the job of being a mommy, we forget that it's a priveledge. It just takes a child to remind us.

disappointed

2007-02-16T23:56:00.000-06:00

I am so disappointed. Really. The Babe and I had a date tonight. I signed us up months ago for a class through our park district called "Mommy and Me Princess Up-do's". It was a class for the two of us, I was to learn how to do fab new hairstyles on my beautiful girl, and she was to love having said fab hairstyles.

Let me start by saying that this class ran from 6:30 pm to 8:00 pm. If it had been at 2:00 in the afternoon, we may have had an entirely different outcome.

Even though I signed us up ages ago, and have been looking forward to it ever since; my recent realization that The Babe and I don't get enough time for us caused me to *really* look forward to tonight. I've been talking it up to The Babe all week... our special date, just the two of us. She was excited to go, too.

Well, I did learn fab new hairstyles, and I eagerly await when The Babe will allow me to do them... but, some were complicated. Some took a bit of trial and error. Some didn't turn out as well, but will improve with practice. All of them required The Babe to sit still, not move, and don't touch the hair! Obviously, that's not so much fun for a 5 year old for an hour and a half. Why I thought that would be fun for her is beyond me. It's so obviously not fun that I really don't know what I was thinking... I guess it just seemed so girly and sweet; a perfect 'mommy and me' outing.

Adding insult to The Babe's injury, they chose little girls as "models" for some of the styles, to sit at the front and let the instructor do her hair as an example. The Babe really wanted to be a model. She raised her hand politely each time to volunteer, but was not chosen. Now, there were 12 girls, and only 4 times did they call for models. It's not as though everyone was a model but her, but she was very disappointed.

So, towards the end of class, sad at not being chosen as a model, tired because it was past her bedtime, ready to go home... my poor, sweet, little girl cried. It wasn't a "throwing a tantrum / not getting my way" kind of cry. That would have made me angry. It wasn't a drama kind of cry, either. She just sat there quietly with tears rolling down her face, not having any fun, crying, asking to go home. I made her wait so she could get her goody bag of hair clips and tools of the trade, I made her say a polite "thank you" to the teacher, and we drove somberly home.

I had such high hopes. I had the best of intentions... and The Babe feels robbed of her date with mommy. She told her daddy through her tears when we got home: "I sat still. I didn't do anything fun." And then I was teary, too.

She did ask if I could do one of the hairstyles on her for her ballet class tomorrow... so maybe all is not lost. *sigh*

why is it...

2007-02-14T02:49:00.000-06:00

... that on a night when I get to bed at a reasonable time, and at least have some hope for a good night's sleep; the kids are up several times during the night? And on a night when work has been difficult, it's almost 3:00am, I've just finished, and I've no hope of a full night's sleep, the kids have been sleeping all the way through? Why is that?

I swear, it happens every time.... *sigh*

the short end versus the long end...

2007-02-12T00:31:00.000-06:00

...of the stick, that is. There is a balance in the world, isn't there?

Both of my kids, but especially The Boy, have been very mommy-oriented lately. The Babe is still more of Daddy's little girl when it comes to lots of things, but even for her; there are some things for which only mommy will do. As flattering as you'd think that might be, the things for which I am required tend to be the really menial, frustrating, I wish 'I didn't *always* have to be the one to do them' kind of things. For example, The Boy insists that I'm the one to change his poopy diapers. I must be the one to get him into his jams before bed. It has to be me that helps them both brush their teeth. The Babe prefers that her hair washes are done by my hand, and The Boy will not allow daddy to buckle his car seat straps.

It's this last one that I find most frustrating these days, as the temps have been close to zero for some time. Daddy sits in the wind-free, warming up car as I freeze my patootie off standing by The Boy's door trying to wrestle him into the car seat. It was yesterday, as I was wrestling, that I complained out loud "Why do I always get the short end of the stick?"

My husband said to me, quite quickly "It's because you get the long end of the snuggle stick". Hmmm.... Now if you know my husband, you know that he hasn't a care in the world. He is simply not a worrier, and he lets all kinds of stuff just roll off his back... the kinds of things that would really ruffle my feathers. When he told me I get more snuggles from the kids, he said it with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He knows not to be bothered by this, it's just the way it is. But when he said it, I felt instant guilt.

He's right. I'm the one with whom The Kiddos choose to sit on the sofa and watch TV. It's my lap they curl into for a story, and I'm the first one from whom they want a hug if they've been hurt or are sad. So, here I am complaining that they're so "mommy, mommy, mommy" all the time; forgetting about all the good that comes with that, too.

I might get the short end of the menial chores stick, but I've got the long end of the snuggle stick... I think I'll keep both.

time for the babe

2007-02-08T23:51:00.000-06:00

The Banana Bread Incident made me realize that The Babe and I need to get out more often. We used to have our time together quite a lot, sneaking out on errands while The Boy was in his nap, stopping on the way home for a donut each time. It's been ages since we've done that. So many things are a factor in that... the school schedule, The Boy's erratic napping these days, the freezing f-ing cold, you name it. But just because there are factors doesn't mean there are excuses.

Today I took The Babe to the mall while The Boy was sleeping. We had to buy her a new foofie (that's Babe speak for a nylon shower puff). Her foofie just fell apart in the bath last night, and while it was no emergency; buying a new one was as good a reason as any for us to get out, just us girls.

First stop was picking the new foofie. Then we soldiered on to find a suitable gift for The Babe to give her daddy on Valentine's Day. She picked a nice pair of socks, which is funny, but since he actually will like them, that's what we got him. Then we went to the Starbucks kiosk. She had chocolate milk, I had a chai, we each had a cookie. We sat in front of the super cool fountain at the mall. We literally sat on the floor right in front of it, and had a picnic while we watched the super cool fountain do it's super cool tricks. Then we wandered. We looked at the shoes at Macy's. She helped me decide which ones were coolest, even though we didn't buy any. And then we went home.

We were out for maybe 60-90 minutes, but it was fun. It was special. And it was very much needed. I hope we remember to do it more often.

it's not all sweetness and light

2007-02-02T16:44:00.000-06:00

I am an optimist. I try to look at the bright side, I try to focus on the good things. I try to be grateful for what I have. As such, I realize that my posts here on this blog tend to be about the sweet and silly moments more than it is about the frustrating and disappointing ones. Today I am so frustrated and disappointed that I have to write about it.

Today The Babe came home from school and she wanted to make banana bread. Making banana bread is one of the things that The Babe and I have been doing together for a long, long time. It has always been something that I considered special, a fun thing for me to do with my kids. Making memories as much as we are making bread. I held it close to my heart. We haven't made banana bread in a while, so even though the bananas we had on hand weren't quite ready, I agreed right away. The Babe was very excited. She rushed to wash her hands and eagerly brought me her apron with her name on it to help her tie it on. And then The Boy pipes up. He wants to help make banana bread, too.

Now, the tradition of banana bread started before The Boy was old enough to help. It used to be something that The Babe and I did, just the two of us. But, certainly The Boy has been old enough to help for a while now, and he has joined us on many a banana bread adventure before. Of course he can help. Climb on a stool, grab a spoon! But then there's The Babe. "I don't want him to help". She looks right at him and says "You're not invited. We don't want your help." The Boy cried. She made him cry, and it was so sad and heartbreaking to see his little moment of joy at the thought of banana bread melt into tears rolling out of his big blue eyes. It was just as heartbreaking for me... all my positive thoughts and feelings about this little family time I thought we had all appreciated just crumbled into bits, squashed on the floor.

I realize that what The Babe was really looking for was some special 'Mommy and me' time, and that she just didn't want The Boy to intrude. I don't think she really meant what she was saying in the sense that she was trying to hurt The Boy, more like she was just trying to protect what she wanted. But it doesn't matter. The impact was the same.

We made the banana bread. I told The Babe that I enjoy to make the bread with both my children, and they are both invited to join in - always. If they choose not to join one time or another, that's fine, but they are both always invited. I told her that The Boy wanted to help, so he certainly could. She chose not to join us. She would rather pout than help. The Boy and I got about halfway through when The Babe decided she wanted her turn to mix and stir; and I let her, because she's always invited, but it was not the same.

Perhaps it's just this one time that is tarnished... perhaps we'll make lots more banana bread in the years to come, and perhaps it will still turn out to be one of the things my kids remember fondly from their childhood. I hope it is. But for me, a little bit of the magic was taken away today, and that makes me sad.

no longer ashamed

2007-01-30T23:48:00.000-06:00

Today I took the kids on a playdate with the children of one of my closest friends. The kids really do enjoy each other's company, but really the playdate is between me and my friend. We would do it even if the kids didn't get along, so BONUS for us that they do. She and her family just recently moved into a beautiful vintage victorian house in the absolute perfect location in the town in which we both grew up.

She and her husband are financially secure, and this house cost more than 2.5 times what mine did. I saw it on-line before she closed on it, and I knew instantly that I would love it. It is exactly the house I always dreamed about. Totally vintage, with all the details and the woodwork, and the beautiful leaded glass, but it's been re-habbed and is modern and beautiful to today's aesthetic as well. They moved into the new house in early January, and this was our first visit to the new place.

I was hesitant to go. I love my friend, and we always have a good time, but I didn't want to go see my dream house and have it not be mine. I was upset at myself for being so shallow... for letting myself feel like a "have not" when I truly do have so much. I was ashamed of myself for feeling this way, but I knew I couldn't put it off forever, so I went to the house.

You know what? It is beautiful. It is more than I thought it would be. There is so much more to it in person than the pictures ever could tell. It is completely my dream house, and I love it 1000%. You know what else? I did not, and still do not, feel one pang of jealousy. I actually found myself to be overcome with feelings of happiness for my friend. It's obvious that she loves that house, she is excited to be there, has so many plans.... and honestly, out of all the friends I have, I can't think of a single one who deserves good things more than she does. Just out of pure karma, I guess.... she's the one that I would root for in almost any contest.

I surprised myself today. I am no longer ashamed of myself. No, I will never own a house like that, and yes, it is still my dream house; no doubt about that. But my feelings of joy for my friend were so great that I didn't even think to be jealous, if that makes any sense.... I just feel so contented, and that's really something.

my sticky shoe

2007-01-25T23:19:00.000-06:00

OK, that has nothing to do with anything really.... does anyone remember that episode of Friends in which Phoebe is sick, but she gets that sexy, sultry voice and she loves it (and she sings the 'sticky shoe' song during her gig at the coffee shop), so she tries to keep herself sick and is sad when she feels better?

Do you all think I am crazy now?

This is The Boy. He is sick. He has quite a bad cold, actually, and I feel sorry for him. Really I do. But he has this voice now. He has the sick, sultry, low, I really need to quit smoking 2 packs a day kind of voice, and it is cracking me up! I love his voice so much right now that I know how Phoebe must have felt. Part of me will be sad when he's all better.

Bad mommy, I know.....

five food things

2007-01-24T20:36:00.000-06:00

I was tagged a while ago by HipMamaB to list five food oddities that I have... things about me and food that you might not know. I feel terrible that it has taken me so long to respond. I haven't been ignoring you, B! It's just that I am having a hard time thinking of anything interesting to say. I'll do my best.

1.) Mint. Chocolate Mint. I love chocolate mint. Anything chocolate mint. Enough said.

2.) I always think I will not like tuna salad, and I never ever make it for myself. But I always end up liking it when I am presented with it.

3.) The best french fries in the whole wide world come from Gene's and Jude's hot dog stand in River Grove, IL. They make them from real potatoes. They have a potato slicer on the wall, they pop a potato in, pull a lever, and fries come out the bottom. And the best part is that they fry them in real lard. Honest to goodness, I've seen them place a big, fat, white chunk of lard to melt in the fryer. MMMMmmmm... probably good that I moved far away.

4.) I have rediscovered oatmeal. I love strawberries & cream instant oatmeal.

5.) I drink at least 32 ounces of tea a day. Hot tea, now that it's cold; but iced tea in the summer. Hot tea is taken with sugar only. Iced tea should never have sugar, but lemon is really nice.

sick

2007-01-23T23:32:00.000-06:00

Well, The Boy is sick. I'm still not sure of all the details because the worst of it has happened after bedtime. I'll know more tomorrow. Here's a cute story, though.

He was coughing a bit this evening before bed, and my ears perked up. The Babe has just gotten over a bronchitis, and has now relapsed into her cold; so the fact that The Boy was coughing was not lost on me. After he had awaken 3 separate times, and it was only 11:15 pm, I looked to see if I had any medicine I could give him. I have tons of cough medicine, mind you, from The Babe's bronchitis, but it is all formulated to her size and I am not comfortable giving it to The Boy. So, I searched and found some Tylenol Cold and Cough Infant Drops that do not expire until April. Yay!

I go into The Boy's room for the fourth time this evening, and I asked if he wanted some medicine to help him feel better. He nods yes, and opens his mouth right up. I gave him his 1.6 ml, and kiss him goodnight. He is looking very sleepy, and his eyes are rolling back into dreamland. He murmured something very quietly. I almost didn't hear him, and I'm not sure he knows he said it.

"My just love that medicine."

Poor little sweetie. I hope he feels better soon.

screening

2007-01-23T10:32:00.000-06:00

Today the phone rang as The Boy and I were sitting at the desk together. I looked over and saw that it was an "Out of Area" call. As if I'm going to answer it. So, I just let it ring.

The Boy: Mommy, the phone!
Me: It's OK, we're not going to answer it.
The Boy: But Mommy! The phone!
Me: It's OK, don't worry about it.
The Boy: But it's ringing at you!!!

He made me pick it up, and I pretended to answer it, LOL. See honey? There's no one there. He was pretty happy with that. I didn't realize the phone was so important to him... he was so insistant! (or is it insistent?)

a break in the routine

2007-01-22T23:44:00.000-06:00

I've mentioned before the bedtime routine around here. I'll recap (I wouldn't want all my new readers to be lost) ; ) The routine includes story time. We switch off in whose room we read, and who gets to pick the story. If we are reading in The Babe's room, then The Boy picks the book, and vice versa. Each night I read whatever the "chosen" book is, and Good Night Moon is always read after that, as a closer.

Without fail, there is a problem each night. If it is The Boy's turn to pick, The Babe pouts and whines because she does not like the story he has chosen. In her defense, he chooses the same story every time, and even I am quite tired of it. But, it is his choice... she can choose tomorrow. Also, The Boy has this strange habit of wanting to sit on the chosen book and "surprise" you with it. "What book did you pick? Oh, surprise! There it is! It's Happy Easter, Little Critter for the 8,756th time!" This sitting on the book thing irritates The Babe for some reason. I think it's because he insists on sitting on the book even if it's one she's chosen, and then it's like he's taking credit or some such nonsense that would only matter if you were 5 years old. If The Boy cannot sit on the book, there are meltdowns of massive proportions. So, he sits on the book. Every night.

Last night, it was The Boy's turn to choose, which meant that we would be reading in The Babe's room. When we got upstairs, however, we found that Cosmo the cat was sleeping on The Babe's bed. This is better than gold to The Babe. Cosmo is her all time favorite sleeping companion, and she thinks it's beyond special when he chooses to sleep by her. I like to encourage her fondness for the animals, and I appreciate how special this is for her. So, I quietly told her that maybe we can tell The Boy it's her turn to choose, so we can read in his room, therefore not disturb the cat, in the hopes that the cat will still sleep with The Babe at bedtime. I told The Babe we could give it a try, but that if The Boy remembers it's really his turn, then we have to let him have his turn. But, The Boy fell for it, and accepted the fact that it was The Babe's turn to choose and we will read in his room.

I walked in to The Boy's room and I asked The Babe what book she chose. She showed me. She picked the book... the one she always complains about, the one The Boy always picks. I was surprised, and she leaned over and very quietly she said "Since I stole his turn, mommy". Oh! She's so nice! The Boy was 1500 miles beyond surprised, he was elated! "Happy Easter, Little Critter!!!! Dizzy pick Happy Easter book!" He was just about glowing, the smile on his face was so bright. And then he surprised me, too. "You sit on it, Dizzy? Take it. You sit on it, OK?"

It's so silly and little, and probably doesn't make much sense. I hope I explained it well enough... it just made my night. *sigh*

she's all growns up

2007-01-19T13:13:00.000-06:00

Ahhhh.... I love the movie Swingers, anyone else? Anyhow, no mom, that's not a type-o, it's from a movie... I know it's poor grammar.

The point is, The Babe is getting so big. In the past couple of weeks there have been two major incidents that have proven that fact to me, and I find I am just not ready.

The first incident came when The Babe announced that she thought it was time she have a hair cut. I have always kept her hair long. She has such lovely hair, always has, that we just kept it growing and growing and growing. She did not have her first haircut until after she was 3, not even one strand was touched before then. Since that time, we have always kept it long, at least mid-back. A couple of weeks ago, as it came close to her bottom, she decided she wanted it cut. I told her she could cut it however she chose, since she's 5 now. She's a big girl. This was a very difficult thing for me to let go of, but I was able to do it with the support of my friends. I know it's silly, but I didn't want to let go of her beautiful hair. Bottom line though, it's not my hair.

The Babe decided she wanted it pretty short, at least as far as I was concerned. I mentioned that if we were going to cut that much off, maybe we could donate it to Locks of Love, and we measured her hair. You need 10 inches to donate, and it turns out The Babe did not want to cut that much off. But, when we got to the salon, she changed her mind. We cut her hair shorter than we had planned because she had decided that she wanted a sick child to have hair to wear (as she puts it). Oh, it's so much shorter than I wanted, but how could I say no? What a wonderful thing she did! And you know what? Her new 'do is adorable. It makes her look a bit older, but I am not sure if I think that because she actually looks older physically, or if I now perceive her as older because she did such a giving, generous, and mature thing.

The second thing that proves to me that she's all growns up is that she is losing her first tooth. I was really not prepared for this! I thought that happens when they're, I don't know, 7 years old? Anyhow, not now! Not to my baby! But there it is, she's losing one of her bottom middle teeth. It's loose, and there is already a new tooth growing in behind it. A few more days and it's gone. The tooth that is loose is actually the first tooth that The Babe got, which I guess is only fair, but it also means I have a weird, sentimental attachment to it. I remember so vividly when it first appeared, looking just like a tiny piece of rice on her gums. I remember I was a bit sad that she was getting teeth already (she had just turned 6 months old), because I would be losing that beautiful toothless grin of hers. I remember I spent a whole day taking oodles of pictures of her before her tooth came in and ruined it all, LOL. And now, here I am, just as sad that the tooth is leaving us. *sigh* It's hard to be a mom....

She's all growns up. Next month... college.

so frustrating

2007-01-18T09:18:00.000-06:00

This starts out sweet, and ends OK, but in the middle; it was just so frustrating!

The Kiddo's Gramma and Grampa J are coming this weekend for a visit. This is always big excitement for The Kiddos, and they spend a few days prior to the visit talking about it non-stop. So, this morning, The Babe wants to put together her puzzles and leave them so that Gramma J can see them when she gets here. Isn't that sweet? I think so.... But Gramma and Grampa aren't coming until Saturday, and The Babe has chosen to do her puzzles on the kitchen island.

I explained to The Babe that if she wants to do her puzzles on the island, I will have to pick them up today. I use the island *a lot*, and I can't have her puzzles there. I told her that if she wanted to save her puzzles for Gramma to see, she should do them on the dining room table. That table is rarely used because we have an eat-in kitchen with a table which is the common meal place. Doesn't that seem so reasonable? I didn't tell her she couldn't do her puzzles, I didn't tell her she couldn't save them for Gramma; I just told her she would have to use a different table.

Well, I guess that's an awfully unreasonable thing to suggest to a 5 year old. I had given her that news and, not realizing it was a big deal, left the room. She cried. I came back in the room to investigate, and The Babe was sitting at the island crying. She doesn't want to do her puzzles in the dining room, she wants them on the island. The thing is, it wasn't a throwing a tantrum cry, it was like she really was quite sad and upset about this turn of events.

So, then I tried to explain it very nicely. Gramma would love to see her puzzles and all the hard work she put into them, so we should make sure she gets to see them. We should do them in the dining room and save them carefully. The Babe just looked at me with her big, teary eyes. She got down off the island stool and just gave me a hug. She wanted to snuggle on the sofa then, so we went and sat quietly for a bit.

I'm still not sure what the whole problem was, but it's so frustrating! I don't know what I could have done differently, or why it was so upsetting... but there it is. And she still hasn't done the puzzles. I picked up the pieces from the island and put the boxes on the dining room table in case she changes her mind.

playtime

2007-01-15T22:15:00.000-06:00

Today as I was working, The Boy came up behind me and said "You have a picnic mommy? Come on! You have a picnic?" I turn around to find the boy just laden down with play food, clutching his green babies which he has started to spread on the floor for a picnic blanket. I was busy at work, mind you, but The Boy has never asked me to a picnic before, so I decided it was breaktime.

We sat on the floor and spread out the buffet of play food. "That's an eggplant, mommy. You eat it? My think it's good." "My brought you bananas. You like bananas." "My make you a sandwich. You eat it." We had so much fun, and I hope he wants to have a picnic again soon.

The Babe has discovered a new game of her own. Each night I read her a chapter of whatever book we are currently reading. I keep the receipt from the library as our bookmark. So, each night I sit in the little tea-table chair by her bed, open the book, place the bookmark on the floor by my feet, and start reading. Last night, The Babe accidentally dropped her Brown Bear on the floor as I was reading, and when she picked him up she grabbed the receipt, too. When I was done with the chapter and looked for the bookmark, she giggled that I didn't know where it was. I hadn't noticed that she picked it up along with Brown Bear.

So, tonight she is fidgeting in her bed as I am reading. She gets out of her bed on the opposite side from me, crawls on the floor all the way around the bed, reaches her hand way out, grabs the bookmark, and crawls back around the bed and climbs in. All the while she is trying very hard to stifle her giggles, and all the while I am pretending not to notice, because I know exactly what she's doing. I finish the chapter and pretend to look for the bookmark. Where could it be?! I know I put it right here! Oh, she was hysterical. She honestly believes that I didn't see her take it.

I am enjoying playing with The Kiddos so much. They are so sweet and innocent. The simplest things make them happy. It's really sweet to be a part of it.

little known facts

2007-01-11T14:25:00.000-06:00

Well. I've been invited by HipMamaB to attend a "virtual cocktail party". The requirements of said party are that as you make conversation with the other guests, LOL, you share 5 facts about yourself that might not otherwise be known. Hmmmm... this is a toughy. Don't you all know me by now?

1.)I'm grumpy. When I was a bank teller, I'd pull the seniority card so I could work the drive thru. That way I could curse and say unkind things to the customers when I turned off the microphone.

2.)I recently started having my nails done... something I used to do long before I had kids. I love that my hands look well kept and nice, and I know it's froufy. I don't like to think about how this somehow makes me high maintenance.

3.)I lost a lot of weight when I was ill in the summer of '05. I went from a size 12 to a size 6. I am really liking this, and it was a great perk to that horrible illness. However, my DH is extra happy about it, to the point that he makes comments about when I was "fat" and now I am really frightened of gaining the weight back...

4.)I never went to a single dance all through High School. When I was in college, DH's band was hired to play our old HS's prom, and I went to that. Does that count? Ummmm ... no, not really.

5.)I am known on-line as 'Pollyanna', but I am the biggest potty mouth in the whole wide world. Well, not maybe the biggest one, but I am *always* the first one to slip up and drop the f-bomb in the most inappopriate of circumstances. Surprised?

Now... who can I invite to this cocktail party??? Most of my blog writing friends have already been tagged... OK, Nita, Anneke, Jules, You're it!!!

the stuff that dreams are made of

2007-01-08T11:21:00.000-06:00

I think every parent has looked at their little newborn child and wondered what that baby thinks about. As they grow older, we still wonder... what is going on in their head? The mystery lessens as the child begins to talk and communicate, but there are still times when we wonder. I am sure we will be wondering until the end of time, as I am sure that no matter the age, they will still do or say things that make little sense.

The bedtime routine around here goes like this: teeth brush, tinkle, then we read a story to both children. They switch off in whose room we read, and who gets to pick the story. Then each child goes to his/her own bed. I read another set of short stories to The Boy, I turn on his "songs" (it's a Bach CD), and bid him goodnight. He always instructs me to close the door all the way, so Cosmo (the cat) can't get in. Then I move into The Babe's room, where we read a chapter from her current book (we're still in the Little House books... almost done), sing a song, and then I tuck her in.

Often, The Boy wakes during the night. As much as it is bothersome to me and disturbs my sleep, I can't really complain. Usually, he is just upset because he has awakened to find that his songs have ended. I go in, press play on the CD player, give him a kiss and leave. Sometimes he is upset because there is a storm or other such noise. I go in, I reassure him it's OK, I give him a kiss and I leave. Every once in a while, I can tell that The Boy has been awakened by a bad dream. He's just generally upset in these instances, for no specific reason. Last night was one of these times, but I was lucky enough to get a glimpse of what goes on in that silly little head of his...

I walked into his room, and he is crying. I get him to lay down, and I give him a kiss. I asked him what's the matter. "Cosmo ate my leg!" I'm a bit confused. Mind you, it's the middle of the night for me, too. "what?" I ask him...."what's the matter?" "Cosmo ate my leg, mommy! He ate my leg!"

OMG. I actually did really well and was able to keep from laughing until I got back to my own bed. I assured The Boy that Cosmo couldn't have eaten his leg, because we had closed the door. Cosmo couldn't get in. And then we lifted the covers and checked out his legs. They were both there. It was all good... ahhh, how strange to know the stuff his dreams are made of. LOL.

"my a big boy now"

2007-01-05T12:58:00.000-06:00

That's what The Boy said to me today. Here's the scenario:

The Boy is pretty well potty trained. He wears underwear all day, every day, except for his nap time and while he sleeps at night. We are virtually accident free. We leave the house, go on long car rides, we are not limited at all. He tells us when he needs to go, and we take care of it. The one thing holding us back is poop. The Boy refuses to poop in the potty. I figure he's young yet, no need to make an issue of it and cause him undue stress over poop. So, usually, he times his poop to be first thing in the morning while he still has a diaper on, or he takes care of it during his nap. If, for some reason, he needs to poop at another time during the day, he will simply ask for a diaper, and we comply with this request. He's still way ahead of where The Babe was at this same age, so I figure it's OK.

Today The Boy tells me that his bottom hurts. Well... here's how it went:

The Boy: Mommy, my bottom hurts.
Me: Why does your bottom hurt?
The Boy: My need to poop.
Me: OK, go get a diaper, I'll help you out.
The Boy: No, my need to poop on the potty! My a big boy now!
Me: (hurriedly) OK then! Let's go!

So, we went into the bathroom and he sat right down on the potty, no arguement, no fuss. Sadly, he was not successful, and as it is currently very close to nap time, I think he may end up pooping as per the normal routine. But what a big step he made! I'm so proud of him!!! 6 years ago I never would have even contemplated sharing a poop story with my friends, but you all understand.

"but what about daddy?"

2006-12-31T21:51:00.000-06:00

My husband bought me this for Christmas. I had hinted at it, way back in the spring or summer, and he did a good job remembering and getting the right thing. I am very happy with it, it's perfect, I would not change a thing (except the length of the chain... must go see jeweler soon).

The Babe, on the other hand, is quite concerned about this new necklace of mine. She noticed it right away, as it has been a long time since I have worn jewelry. She asked about it. She likes the stones, and is tickled pink that the stone that represents her is blue, as blue is her favorite color (that's a lucky coincidence). However, she thinks it's just terrible that there is a stone for me, a stone for her, and a stone for The Boy, but no stone for daddy.

I tried to explain to her... it's a mother's necklace. It's for me and my children, it's special. Daddy played a part, he made sure the people who make the necklace put the right stones in, and he made sure mommy was surprised on Christmas. Still, no good. "But what about Daddy? He doesn't get a stone?" I explained it again and she's still not having it.

"I'll tell you what, mommy, I'll share my stone with Daddy. We can both be blue. That way, we're all on there".

all is right with the world

2006-12-24T11:20:00.000-06:00

Polly Pocket's pink flip flop was found yesterday. Ahhh.... and now I can sleep at night.

Merry Christmas!

interesting observation

2006-12-20T20:55:00.000-06:00

The Babe, as I've noted previously, almost always wants to wear a dress these days. I try to get her just cotton jersey play dresses, nothing too fancy for every day - - but honestly, if we are leaving the house, she *must* have a dress on.

Today, as she was coloring, The Babe stopped and looked like she had just realized something life altering. She looked at me and said "You know what, mommy?.... Some people are girls and some people are boys; but some people are girls and they still wear pants!"

Wow. Who are these crazy pant-wearing girls, what's the matter with them, and can it be cured? LOL. The mind of a 5 year old...

special

2006-12-15T22:13:00.000-06:00

The Babe has been telling me for a long time that she loves me. Obviously, this is special, and I never tire of hearing it. You see, The Babe has an odd habit of just walking up to me at random at any given time on any given day, stopping me from whatever I am doing just to say "Mommy, I love you". She actually does it so much, that it's become a bit of a joke. Of course I always tell her that I love her too. I never tire of it, because it's all true.

Well, The Boy has picked up on this little ritual recently. If he hears The Babe tell me that she loves me, he has to pipe up: "My love you, too, Mommy! My love you!" Of course, I think this is extra special, because it's sweet that he is just starting to join in.

The Boy still takes an afternoon nap most days, and when he wakes from his nap he often just wants to sit and snuggle. He'll come trooping downstairs, his face all rosy with sleep, holding tight to his babies, and just crawl into my lap wherever I may be sitting. He's been doing this for a while now. Shhhh.... don't tell The Babe, but my favorite times are during the afternoons when she is at school. If The Boy wakes while she is still out, he and I get some special snuggles all to ourselves. That's what happened today.

The Boy came downstairs and crawled into my lap as I watched Law and Order reruns on TNT. He snuggled in really well. He gave me what he calls "a big squeeze" and hugged me tight. I love our snuggle time, and I curled right into it. He stretched out, with his head in my lap, and I stroked his hair. He stopped watching Jerry Orbach long enough to look up at me, touch my face, and ever so quietly he said "Mommy, my love you", and then he smiled, turned is head and watched the rest of the episode quietly snuggling in my lap.

I have no idea how the episode ends. I just sat there thinking about how nothing could be more special than that.

crazy

2006-12-11T16:25:00.000-06:00

That's me. I'm crazy. Just ask anyone who knows me. Certifiable. That's me.

When The Babe was littler, and we didn't have The Boy, I had a routine at night. I would put her to bed, and then come right downstairs to clean up the mess of the day: toys, games, what have you. I have this need to put it all away and make sure everything is where it belongs. Obviously, the next day, The Babe woke up and tore it all apart again, but I was at peace every night knowing that every thing was as it should be. It seems pretty reasonable, I think.

This has somehow evolved into me being totally obsessive and crazy.

Fast forward to now. Now I have two children, and arguably, twice the mess. Plus, as The Babe has grown up, her toys and games seem to include more bits and pieces to keep track of. Add to that the fact that it's no longer appropriate for me to pick up after the kids after they have gone to bed. We reached the stage a long time ago when they had to learn to be responsible for their own things, and pick up the mess that they've made. This also seems pretty reasonable, I think.

This is where I am crazy. Truly. I can't let go. I will honestly lose sleep if a piece of something is missing. I'll just keep lookng and looking and looking... sometimes I don't find it, and I have to go to bed, and the search continues the next day. We were missing the purple ring to the wooden stacking set for a good two weeks once, and my husband loved taunting me with it. He thinks it's hysterical that I care so much, he's just so laid back... I have to count all the cherries in the Hi-Ho Cherry-o game if I think there is even a chance one is missing. Each bucket NEEDS to have 10 cherries.

My husband's Auntie tells me that when her 3 kids made a big mess each day, she kept a little shovel. She says she would literally shovel up the pieces and put them in a basket, and that's how she would clean up. I was horrified! I think I may have stopped breathing for a second. First of all, you will lose all the pieces that way! Secondly, how will you ever find all the pieces without dumping the whole basket out again, and re-creating the mess? And thirdly, in case you didn't hear me the first time, you will lose all the pieces that way!!! I have never looked at Auntie quite the same way again.

Our most recent loss is one of Polly Pocket's shoes. Do any of you have any idea what I am up against here? It is a flip flop for a doll that is smaller than my hand. The shoe? The shoe is smaller than the fingernail on my pinky finger. I think it might be about the size of the fingernail on The Boy's pinky finger, and he's not even 3 years old. I will never find it. I know this. But it hasn't stopped me from looking incessantly at my floor for the past 24 hours. I even checked the heating vents. I actually did lose sleep over this last night. Of course, I also have a cold, but while I was up being miserably stuffy, all I could think about was that damn pink flip flop. I kid you not. Crazy.

sleepover

2006-12-09T16:33:00.000-06:00

The Babe had a friend, Q, sleep over last night. This was the first time we hosted a sleepover. It was very spontaneous, which is probably good. Had it been planned, I'm betting I would have lost sleep ahead of time trying to think of things for 2 little girls to do that would make a special night.

Our neighbor had 3 wisdom teeth pulled yesterday, and she asked if we could bring her daughter, Q, home from school with us. The plan was that they would pick Q up in time for dinner. Well, dinner time came and no word from our neighbors... so of course we fed The Babe and her friend. When we did hear from our neighbors, the word we got was that Momma Neighbor was really feeling the loss of those teeth. I immediately offered to have Q spend the night. I did it without thinking, really. I just said the words and then thought about what that might mean afterwards.

My husband works Friday nights, so he was out the door. I would have 3 kids all to myself, last minute on a Friday night. Also, I know from experience that no actual "bedtime" is adhered to when a sleepover is in play, so I had just abandoned all my plans for a quiet evening. Shoot. I kind of wish I had thought before I spoke.

Lucky for me, last night just happened to be the night that Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman were on TV. Thank goodness for small favors. By the time those shows were done, the kids were getting tired. It was 9:15 before I had them all tucked in and sleepy... a full 2 hours later than the regular bedtime around these parts. None of my evening plans were accomplished, and to top it all off, this morning I was expected to make pancakes! Ha! I generally don't cook breakfast (here's your breakfast bar, Kiddo, now shut it, Mommy's not a morning person), but since we had a guest - well, I felt kind of obligated.

Q was picked up by 8:30 this morning, and we were off on our regular Saturday of taking The Babe to ballet while The Boy and I stop for a latte (which he said to me again, several times today).

I think it was a good sleep-over... I mean, at least they actually did sleep!

he knows me so well...

2006-12-03T08:42:00.000-06:00

The Boy, that is. Honestly, sometimes things he says or does just shock me.

The other day, I was out running errands with The Boy. I was feeling a little pressed for time, I was a little stressed out, and I probably had a bit of a short temper. The Boy just dealt with me quietly, sitting peacefully in his car seat and not giving me a hard time (thank goodness). We are driving along, and we pass a Starbucks.

"Look mommy! Look! Mommy needs a latte!"

I swear to you, that's exactly what he said. He knows me so well.

for my uncle

2006-11-30T08:53:00.000-06:00

My Uncle Gale passed away last night. He was diagnosed with liver cancer about a month ago, and while preparing him for chemo, they discovered that his cancer was much to far along and that there was nothing they could do for him. He died peacefully, at home, with his wife of almost 50 years by his side. I wrote him a letter on 13 November after I had processed the news of his illness, and I am going to post that letter below. My Uncle Gale was a really wonderful person.
************************************
Dear Uncle Gale,

Do you remember how you used to tell me to be careful of the "boogeyman" that lived on your back patio? You would tell me I had to be careful that the boogeyman didn't get me. I remember I was old enough to know you were joking, and young enough to still half believe you. I remember spending so much time in your pool that the skin on my feet got so ripped up I had to wear socks in the water. I remember you letting me watch as you carefully mixed the chlorine and chemicals needed to keep the pool clean. I remember that part was fun to watch, but it was so disappointing that I couldn't just dive right into the water when you were done. Speaking of which, I learned how to dive off of your diving board. I remember being in awe of how much work you put into keeping that little patch of grass healthy for Sherie. I remember thinking it was so sweet that you did that so she'd have a place to go. The summer days I spent in Arizona are among my fondest memories, and I wanted to be sure you knew that. I need you to know how much those times mean to me, and I wanted to say thanks.

You have touched my life. Being your niece and goddaughter has been very special. My thoughts and prayers are with you and Aunt Dee, as well as Scott, Jill, and their families.

All my love,
Erika

happy thanksgiving!

2006-11-23T22:23:00.000-06:00

The Babe painted a handkerchief in her preschool class. The teacher sent it home with a letter of explanation. Every Thanksgiving, before you eat, you pass the handkerchief around the table. The person who is holding the handkerchief has to list at least one thing they are thankful for, and then pass it to the next person. What a nice idea. I brought the handkerchief with me today as we traveled to a relative's home for the holiday.

I am thankful for so much. I have a list, but I am sure it doesn't include everything. It's like an Oscar speech... my apologies must go out in advance to those that I don't list.

I am thankful for:

a healthy family
a lovely home
food and clothes and necessities
my husband's job, even though it frustrates me; it's solving more problems than it's creating
my job and the flexibility it allows
my friends that I "met" on-line, who might just know me better than most people, even though they might not recognize me if they saw me on the street.
my real life friends, who do actually know what I look like
my parents, including biological, step, and in-laws. They all bring something different and needed to the table that is my life.
my children, that they are spirited and willful, but also caring and gentle. That they love each other so much, and are sincerely concerned for the others' well-being.
potty training, I could really stand to lose the diapers that I've had to lug around for the past 5+ years
my pets
The Babe's preschool teacher, who does such a wonderful job
Good neighbors
a good night's sleep at least once a week (hopefully)
my husband, who after all these years can still make me giggle and is the first person with whom I want to share news, watch movies, talk politics, go shopping, eat meals, raise children, and live my life.

I brought the handkerchief to Thanksgiving dinner and I forgot to take it out of my purse. Maybe it's for the best.... I have so much to be thankful for that nobody would have gotten the chance to eat!

you snooze, you lose

2006-11-16T23:34:00.000-06:00

The Babe had a play date today, so she and I went over to our neighbors house for the afternoon. The mom at the playdate had made brownies! How nice! Something I would never think to do just because The Babe's friend was coming over, but it was a nice touch, just the same. As we left our date, the mom sent us home with a foil package of a few of the brownies. Also very nice.

So for dessert tonight, what do you think I gave The Kiddos? I'll give you 3 guesses and the first two don't count. You got it already? Gosh, you're good. ; )

So, each of The Kiddos has a small brownie. The Boy doesn't quite "get" brownies yet, so he just kind of nibbled at his, not convinced it would actually be good. The Babe devoured hers and asked for another. I gave her one (they were really small!), and I left the room to go check on work.

The Boy comes into my office, holding a small piece of his brownie, and complaining about something. "Mommy! Dizzy take it! Dizzy take it!" He wasn't crying, but he was displaying a certain amount of urgency; so I got up to check what he was talking about. I asked, "what did The Babe take?" "My brownie! Dizzy take my brownie!". I look, and The Babe did indeed seem to have The Boy's brownie on her plate in addition to the one I had just given her. (3 brownies? She thinks she should have 3 brownies??)

Me: Did you take his brownie?
The Babe: I said I was sorry.
Me: You're sorry? So, it was an accident? You didn't mean to take it?
The Babe: I had to take it, it was just sitting there.

LOL! The Boy learned a valuable lesson today: You snooze, You lose. You are not to leave your brownie unattended. Luckily, The Babe hadn't actually eaten The Boy's brownie yet, so she gave it back. Crazy kids.

i have a problem...

2006-11-15T21:25:00.000-06:00

...an addiction, you might say. Some people have shoes, and some people have coffee, some people have jewelry, some people have crack. I have purses. I am addicted to purses. It's getting ridiculous.

I don't know when it started. I used to be a reasonable gal, with a summer purse and a winter purse, plus maybe a cute evening bag. Now? Now you ask? Now I have a whole part of my closet loaded down with purses. I have some Coach, I have some Kate Spade, I have some mall brands like Nine West. I went through a whole diaper bag phase for a while there, and I have several of those; from small 'out for an errand' bags to larger 'out for the day and need a change of everything for 2 children' bags.

My latest addiction, though, is better than designer... it's handmade, one of a kind bags. Last winter I purchased a hand-knit green wool purse. It's knit in a cable pattern and has beautiful oval wooden handles. Then, over the summer, I purchased a custom silk brocade bag that is large enough to fit diapers and wipes, but small enough that it's not really a diaper bag. I chose the fabric, I chose how many pockets and where.... I loved it so much that I bought another handmade bag from the same gal for my "winter" version of the brocade... it's black corduroy which is embroidered with red and gold thread, a sequin here and there... I love the handmade bags. I get lots of compliments and I like to mix things up. It feels good to be different and not have the same bag as everyone else. I love my Kate Spade, but c'mon, it's not exactly unique.

So, my neighbor, a mother of a girl in The Babe's preschool, is starting a business making handmade purses. It's like the stars align and I am just meant to have an endless supply of handmade purses, LOL. So, this woman hosted an open house tonight, and I almost didn't go. I mean, I don't really need another purse. It's just that I have this addiction. So I went. And then, I almost didn't buy anything. Really, I almost got away. But then, you see, she had the perfect fabric, the perfect liner, the perfect handles... and it would be custom made, just for me.

Hi my name is Erika, and I am addicted to purses. It's been 20 minutes since my last purchase.

deep down

2006-11-14T00:15:00.000-06:00

Today The Boy pushed The Babe off of a step stool she was sitting on because he thought he should be the one sitting there. The Babe hit the floor hard, and whimpered. I could tell she was actually hurt, it wasn't one of her dramatic "NBA player trying to get the ref to call a foul" moments. He pushed her, she fell, it hurt.

I immediately asked The Boy why he pushed The Babe, and he says nonchalantly "My don't know", as though it doesn't really matter. The important thing is now he is sitting on the stool and not her. I told him to tell her that he was sorry, and he declined. I told him he was to apologize or get a time out, and still, he declined. So, time out it is.

The Boy really dislikes time out. He acts like a total tough guy when you are threatening it, and even as you pick him up to take him to the time out spot. He'll look me right in the eye and say "take my away, mommy, take my away", as though it's a dare. As soon as he's in the spot and I turn to leave, though, it hits him. It's really time out. I have to sit here for 2 whole minutes! And the screaming and crying begins. Lately, it's "Mommy!!!! My scared!!!!" to try and get me to come in before the 2 minutes are up. This is how it was this evening; The Boy screamed and cried himself into a frenzy for his 2 minutes.

I went in, as I always do, when the 2 minutes were up. I sat next to him and calmly asked him if he knew why he was placed in time out, and told him he needed to tell The Babe he was sorry for pushing her the way he did. We were about to get off the sofa to go find The Babe so he could do just that when The Babe walks in the room. She is carrying The Boy's beloved blankie, his "babies" as he calls them. He looks at her, his poor face all wet and red and splotchy, and says "My sorry, Dizzy". She hands him his babies, which he eagerly accepts, and says to me "I wanted to make him feel better. He's so sad." The Boy had such a look of appreciation, and he leaned forward and hugged The Babe.

How is it possible that I have such a sweet and thoughtful little girl? He's in time out because he shoved her, hurt her, and refused to say sorry.... and she wanted to make him feel better because time outs make him sad. They really are sweet to each other, deep down. I know I've had a hard weekend, but moments like that really help me keep it in perspective.

I really do love The Kiddos.

how to freak your mother out

2006-11-11T19:44:00.000-06:00

Dear Toddler Boys,

If you really want to freak your mother out, here is what you should do.

Wait until after the bath on a particularly difficult day (see previous post).
Walk over to your mother, while you are still nude, holding your hand over your privates and crying.
When your mother asks you what's wrong, just keep saying "hurt, hurt, mommy it hurts", and gesture towards your still covered private area.
When your mommy lays you down to have a look, don't be surprised at her look of shock when she sees what you've done.
Try not to laugh as she slowly discovers it's OK, you've just colored your whole private area (both the bits and the pieces) with red marker.

Seriously folks, this is what happened here this evening. I am still not sure if the whole thing was a trick on me, or if somehow, the act of coloring himself with red marker actually did make it hurt. Either way, I am grateful for washable markers.

the weekends

2006-11-11T11:46:00.000-06:00

Hi. My name is Erika, and I am a great big giant baby. I'm spoiled rotten to the core, and have no business feeling unhappy or overwhelmed at all.

I wrote that as my starter to this post just so you all kow that I am 100% aware of how ridiculous I am being. But, since I can't really control my feelings I guess I just have to deal with them. So here I am, getting it all out. You can stop reading now if you are not interested in attending my pity party. I'll understand.

The weekends here are hard. My husband now works, which is a total godsend, something we've been needing him to do for quite some time. So, see? How can I complain about him working when he only started working again because of all my complaining? See the first paragraph of this entry for the answer.

You all know by now that I work nights, Sunday-Thursday 3:30 p - 12:00 a. Well, now my husband works nights (mostly), too. He works Wed, Thurs, Fri nights, Sat either day or night (sometimes both!) and Sun days. This is hard. It's hard because now I have no help at bedtime, because even when he works days he's not home for bed. I have no help for dinner time. I have less help during the days because on the nights that he works, he takes a nap in the afternoon so he won't sleep through his shift. It's hard in the mornings because I used to be able to sleep in, but now that my husband is home late, I'm the one who gets up in the mornings with The Kiddos.

All of this is very logical and makes sense. I can't and I don't fault my husband for his work hours, or the fact that he needs a nap in the afternoon to make it through. It's just hard. It's hard because he has to leave for work right at the time of day when The Kiddos become most difficult. It's hard because I have to deal with their end of day meltdowns with no backup, plus I'm supposed to be on the clock working myself. It's hard because usually he leaves for work either late Sat morning or early Sat afternoon and he's not home until Sunday night after bedtime. Every week. It's like he travels for business and is away every weekend.

The Kiddos know my buttons and they aren't afraid to push them. I lose my patience. I don't like the bickering and the fighting. I can't stand the way they expect me to resolve every dispute between them, and I have stopped doing that; telling them they need to sort it out. And then it's hard to listen to all the bickering that follows as they try to do just that. It's exhausting, and I feel overwhelmed by it at times..... all the while feeling stupid and guilty because so many people out there have it so much worse than I do, and how dare I let myself feel this way when it's nothing compared to what other families deal with.

I cried today. It's stupid. I cried because The Babe told me she wanted to go out to lunch, so I thought "OK great! We'll go out to lunch, get a few errands done, be out of the house for the day, and it will go fast, and it won't be so overwhelming just watching the time tick slowly by". So then it was time to go, and she's changed her mind. She doesn't want to go out, she just wants to drive through somewhere and eat the food at home. Well, no. I'm not loading both kids into the car just to drive thru McDonald's and come right back. We have food here. So, we had a standoff of sorts. I had gotten myself all psyched up to get out of the house, it had made all the difference to my outlook on the day, and now I knew that even if I won the battle and we got to leave, The Babe would be in such a mood about it that it wouldn't be a good outing anyways. She won, no matter how you look at it. Meanwhile, The Boy wanted to go out just as much as I did, so he's crying "go now, Mommy, go now!", while The Babe is pouting and shouting that she doesn't want to go, and has collapsed into a puddle on the floor, refusing to move. I cried. I left the room before I burst into tears... but it's so overwhelming.... I have no help, they always disagree, whatever my idea for the day was never works out.... and I have 2 whole days of this before my husband is home.

My name is Erika, and I am a great big giant baby. I'm spoiled rotten to the core, and I have no business feeling unhappy and overwhelmed at all. I know this... and yet, there it is.

loot

2006-11-06T23:20:00.000-06:00

Oh! To be 5 years old again.... *sigh*

This was the birthday of all birthdays. This was an extravaganza! A week of presents! Utter craziness! My husband and I thought we were doing the right thing by forgoing the big family party this year. We figure, The Babe is 5 now. She'll have a party with her little 5-year old friends, and she can celebrate with the grandparents at whichever time nearest to her b-day that she sees them. It seemed so reasonable... last year she had a party with her little friends, AND we had the family over for another party, and that seemed to be too much... so this plan seemed so reasonable. Perhaps not.

The result:

Sunday, 29 Oct: Gramma J and Grampa J come over to sit for The Boy. While they are here, they give The Babe her b-day presents from them, as well as the present from Aunt J. It was their intent to have The Babe open these gifts on her b-day, but I thought she should open them while she was with her grandparents so they could see how much she liked them. So.... a butterfly mobile, a new stuffed cat, a cool cookbook and personalized apron, and a Tinkerbell gift set. Wow.
Tuesday, 31 Oct: Gramma L and Grampa D come over as Grampa D actually got a day off from work. 4 new winter dresses, new tights, new socks, and a new outfit for her build-a-bear, Emily. Wow.
Wednesday, 01 Nov: Actual birthday. The Babe got a fisher price digital camera from her parents. She loves it. Good.
Saturday, 04 Nov: birthday party. Too much to mention, I may forget some... a new Cranium board game that is a huge hit, tinkertoys, coloring books, puzzles, more build-a-bear clothes, a Groovy Girl doll, a ceramic bead craft set, a play-doh gift set. The Babe loves all of it and doesn't know what to play with first. Wow.
Sunday, 05 Nov: Brunch with the last set of grandparents; Grampa A and Gramma I. More clothes for the build-a-bear, and more clothes for The Babe. Wow.

Now, on Monday, 06 Nov, The Babe actually asked me what she was getting today. I was surprised. Ummm... well sweetie, the week of you has ended. It's not your birthday anymore. Nothing. None. You have so many new things. And then.... a package from a different Aunt J arrives with a new stuffed bear (now named Smudgy), wooden letters that spell The Babe's name, and rubber stamps. PLUS - - her good friend, Q, arrived back in town today and showed up at our door with a whole Polly Pockets gift set that has a car and everything!

So, ummm yeah. LOOT. I cannot believe the amount of stuff! And, if something arrives tomorrow, I may just have to hide it in the basement until Christmas, or else The Babe will think she gets a gift every day for the rest of her life!

sidenote: Polly Pockets would have been right up my alley as a kid. I'm surprised how much I love this toy. I'm such a girl.

happy birthday, babydoll!

2006-11-02T22:49:00.000-06:00

November 1 is The Babe's birthday. I am a day late with this post. I am late because I can't sort out what I want to say so that it might be coherent to anyone who might be reading.

Let's start with the obvious.... I love The Babe. I love her so much that the thought of not having The Babe around hurts me, actually, physically makes me ill.

I love that she tells jokes that make no sense and laughs as though it was the funniest thing in the world. I love that she will now eat asparagus, but only the tips. I love that she almost always wants a pretty dress, but doesn't seem to notice that her hair is a total mess. I love that everything takes turns with her: one night we wash her hair using the pitcher of water, the next time we can use the sprayer... tonight she will sleep with little cat in the bed, but tomorrow it will be puppy. She has a system for everything. I love that she believes me when I tell her that she can't or shouldn't do something, and then genuinely tries not to do said thing. I love that she dances like a total maniac and has no rhythym (just like mommy). I love that she will do these dances while her daddy plays the latest Tool song on his (not plugged in) electric guitar. Nothing like not realizing that Tool is total heavy ick music that mommy can't stand... I still love to see her dance. I even love that she will make herself gag when I am trying to get her to try a new food, as though pasta with actual (gasp!) red sauce will actually kill her. I love that she can be dramatic.

I love that she cares about other people's feelings. I love that she thinks about how what she does might make someone feel. I love that she shares. I love that she laughs. I love that she draws pictures for her friends before they come over and is so excited to give it to them. I love that she spends time teaching The Boy his ABC's and nobody ever asked her to. I love that she gives him a hug and kiss every night before bed. I love that she cheers loudest of all when The Boy goes tinkle on the potty. I love that she's daddy's little girl, and no one can make her smile the way he does, even though that one hurt when I first realized it.

I love her pretend friends, and the fact that one of them has a birthday at least once a week. I love that she doesn't realize that they all must be 25 years old by now.

I love that her favorite bear, Brown Bear, the one she's had since she was 9 months old and still sleeps in her bed every night... I love that Brown Bear has a hole worn right through him and lost his bead stuffing because "he got too much love". I love that every 6 months or so she picks out a new shape and color of fabric for me to patch him up with, because now the patch has gotten "too much love", too.

I loved her when she was a tiny baby. I've loved her every step along the way. I love her now more than ever, and I love the person that she's growing up to be.

I love you, babydoll. Happy Birthday....

happy halloween!

2006-10-31T22:45:00.000-06:00

So, yesterday The Babe had her big Halloween party at the pre-school. She got to wear her nurse costume to school and knew they would be trick or treating after their big "parade". She was very excited and talkative about it all morning. Well, naturally, The Boy wanted to go too. It certainly did sound like fun, especially the way The Babe was talking it up. As I was leaving with The Babe to take her to school, The Boy was upset. The Babe looks right at him, gave him a hug, and says "It's OK, I'll share all my candy with you when I get back". And she did just that. As soon as she got home, without being reminded or prompted at all, The Babe called The Boy over and they went through her treat bag together and shared all the goodies. I was so proud of her.

Today, of course, is Halloween. So The Boy did get to join in today, and he was so excited! He was talking all day about his ladybug costume and he was so excited he was almost too squirmy to dress. It was cold here today. 38 degrees at trick or treat time. I layered the kids up pretty well, but we only stayed out about 30 minutes. Both The Babe and The Boy did such a nice job with their trick or treating, making sure to only take one piece when offered the whole bowl, and always saying 'thank you' before we left each house. When we got home, The Boy called The Babe over to sit by him ("Sit by me, Dizzy. Sit by me!"), and they pooled all their candy together.

I am so proud of them both.

thanks, mom

2006-10-25T23:39:00.000-05:00

A good friend of mine and I have recently been having a conversation about motherhood. Her son just turned 9 months old, and that marker has really struck a note with her. As she put it "Now he's been outside of the womb for as long as he was in it". So, this milestone has her thinking, and through discussing it with her - now I'm thinking. OMG, watch out! I'm thinking.

Let me see if I can take you through my stream-of-conscuiosness, a-la The Jilting of Granny Weatherall. 7th grade English class anyone? No? Ok, so you don't get my obscure reference... I know I'm crazy. Here's how my mind works....

I start to think, at my friend's request, about when I first started to realize that these babies of mine were actual people. When did it hit me that they have minds, opinions, will grow to be adults? Ummm... never. It hasn't really hit me yet. Sometimes, when The Babe is expressing a particularly strong opinion, or when The Boy is being emphatically stubborn, I realize that I can't really control them. They are not dolls or toys, they don't fall for everything I say anymore, and they are not afraid to let me know that I am full of it. But, it still hasn't really struck me that they will one day grow up. Even though I watch it every day, it's like I am in denial. I see the little things that indicate how they are growing, and I choose to ignore them. Because, the bottom line is, I can't handle the truth. Jack Nicholson might as well be spitting that in my face.

I cannot bear the thought that when The Babe is a bit older, she won't want me to tag along on her trips to the mall with her girlfriends. Or, that The Boy will want me to drop him off a block from school so none of the other kids will see how I kiss and hug him good-bye. I think I might die when they go off to college and I'm not part of their daily lives anymore, even if I have just been an embarrassment to them all through high school, at least I will have gotten to be there. Oh, and when they're off having fun in college, how will I make it through the week until the Sunday night phone call? How will I not speak to them every day? How will I be when they're done with college and off having a life... When not only do they not need to talk to me every day, but now they no longer even need to play nice because I'll no longer be footing the bill for their campus apartment? They'll only call once a month, maybe. I know it. I know it will happen, and I know I will be hurt. I'll be crushed.

How do I know it? Because that's exactly what I did to my own mother.

Now, don't get me wrong. My mother and I always got along. I don't remember any big rebellion phase or arguing phase or "I hate you" phase (someone please check with my mother, she may be remembering things differently). But I do know that there was a time in my life, a good long time, where I only called her sporadically. Maybe we talked once or twice a month. Maybe I saw her 8 or 10 times in a YEAR, even though we only lived 30 minutes away. I'm sure I was behaving as any normal young person does. But, as a mother, this kills me. It absolutely eats me up inside to think how much it will hurt when my kids do this to me, and therefore, how much it hurt my mother when I did it to her.

So, thanks Mommo. Thanks for allowing me to grow, and then letting me go. And thanks most of all for still being there when I gathered my senses and came back. I hope I can do the same for my kids some day. Much Love....

apology accepted

2006-10-20T23:12:00.000-05:00

Thursday evening The Boy asked for juice. Orange juice. Straight up, no watering down, no ice, just juice. In fact, he was so particular that he didn't even want it in the sippy cup, he just wanted a regular cup. Silly me, I let him use the cup with no lid.

The Boy takes his juice into our family room, where he proceeds to spill it all over the coffee table, and on the carpet, and on the sofa. Great. Juice. Orange juice. Straight up, now all over my family room.

"Mommy! My need help! Mommy!" The Boy was a bit panicked. Let me tell you, I was not pleased, but accidents happen. I grabbed the paper towels and began the clean up process. The Boy was so sweet, helping me clean. He blotted the carpet, just as he saw me doing. He wiped the coffee table, and blotted the sofa. He even helped with the last rub down with the Lysol wipes. An absolute doll. I forgave him rather quickly.

Friday morning, Daddy notices that one of the remotes is extra sticky. OOoops, I thought we had gotten everything clean, but I guess not. So, Daddy quite reasonably asks what happened. What's all over this icky, sticky remote? The Boy bows his head, looks at the floor, and says quietly: "My spill juice, Daddy. My big sorry."

Daddy forgave him rather quickly, too.

naked

2006-10-20T11:03:00.000-05:00

I have naked children. Really. Ask anyone who is in my house for more than an hour or so, and they will tell you that I have naked children. My kids love running around naked no matter what they are doing. Eating? naked. Playing? naked. Watching a movie or TV? naked. The Babe goes for the naked sneak attack, I think she enjoys surprising me. She'll just appear, where one moment ago she was fully clothed, now she has no bottoms. It's as though she's trying to see if I'll notice.

Anyhow, I don't mind the naked. I imagine it's partly my fault. I'm not sure if I've encouraged it, I very well may have, but I know I certainly never discouraged it, either.

The thing is, now that the weather is turning cold, I'm not sure how keen I am on the naked. But the kids don't seem to mind, they are just as naked as ever. I guess if it doesn't bother them, it shouldn't bother me. Right?

is this wrong....?

2006-10-12T22:10:00.000-05:00

For as long as I can remember, The Boy has always been interested in whatever it is that I am drinking. If I have a glass of water, he needs to have it. If I have a soda, he needs to have it. If I have a coffee, he needs to have it. It's not that I don't want to share (well, it's kinda that I don't want to share), but it's The Boy who really doesn't want to share. He wants to take my drink and make it his own. I'd be happy to give him a sip of this or that if that's where it would end, but that's not where it ends. It ends with me in utter frustration, wondering why I can't do anything without being harrassed. I mean, I just want a drink of water for goodness sake!

The result of this has been that I simply avoid drinking things around The Boy. I don't think I thought the issue through and came to that solution... but over time, that's what I've noticed is happening. I just don't drink around The Boy. Since I am around The Boy pretty much all day, what that means is that I hardly drink anything. As a survivor of 12 (count them, twelve) kidney stones, not drinking anything all day is not a very appealing option for me (besides the fact that not drinking anything all day is probably not a very appealing option to anyone).

Out of sheer desperation recently, I simply poured part of my drink into a small cup and gave that to The Boy. OMG, it worked! He walks away with his own cup and is happy with that. I am relieved. The result of that, however, is that now The Boy simply asks me for his own cup of whatever, whether I am drinking it currently or not. Today it was tea. So, I made The Boy a cup of tea. I used decaf. Just plain decaf Lipton tea. It felt so odd the whole time I was making it. Serving tea to my 2 year old just seemed unusual.

My question is this: Is it wrong? Is there any reason why I shouldn't be serving The Boy tea? I mean, besides the fact that he's a bit young to learn how to hold his pinky finger out as he sips?

proof that tv is good for them

2006-10-08T22:35:00.000-05:00

Did you ever notice how your child just starts randomly talking about something, and you have no idea why or where it came from? Please tell me it's not just my child that does this....

Saturday, The Babe and I were driving home from her ballet lesson, and she tells me that there is no school in the summer time. Uh-huh, yeah... I got that, OK... where is she going with this? So, here's the rest of the conversation. Now try to tell me that TV is not good for them, LOL.

The Babe: We only go to school for three seasons of the year.
Me: Yes, that's right.
The Babe: Fall, Winter, and Spring. There's no school in the summer.
Me: You're right, honey! How did you get to be so smart?
The Babe: (hesitates while thinking this over) I think... maybe... The Simpsons.

Ha! Not just any old TV show, but The Simpsons! That's daddy's little girl!

tears

2006-10-02T22:53:00.000-05:00

A long time ago, when The Babe was a little over 2 years old, she needed to have an echo-cardiogram done at the cardiologist. Because of her age, they believed she would need to be sedated, as the procedure requires the patient to lie very still. Well, part of the sedation process is that the patient is not allowed any food for 12 hours prior, and no liquid besides water for 4 hours prior (I think.... I can't remember exactly.... it's a long time ago now, hush). The cardiologist's office tried to give us an early appointment, so that most of The Babe's fasting would happen while she slept, but I remember it wasn't early enough.

The Babe was so distraught at her lack of food and milk that she cried. A lot. I was about 17 months pregnant with The Boy at this point, stretched to my limit both physically and emotionally, and the sight of my sweet daughter crying for food was enough to push me over the edge. She was sobbing, and over and over again all she could say was "Look at this wet face, Mommy. Look at this wet face". It broke my heart at the time, but now I remember it as one of the funniest things she's ever said to me. She was just figuring out her tears, and boy, did she have a lot of them that day. It's so sweet to watch them learn, even if the situation seems dire at the time (sidenote: they did not even end up sedating her for the procdure that day. My little angel lay perfectly still for the doctors. They were very impressed. Oh, and we took her to Toys R Us right afterwards and told her she could pick whatever bear she wanted, LOL).

So today, The Boy is coming to the same recognition of his tears. I'm surprised it has taken him so long, because The Boy cries a lot. He was crying over something silly, like whether or not I was trying to poison him with that awfully suspicious grilled cheese sandwich I placed in front of him for lunch. I left him at the table, and when I came back a minute later he was very calm, but very aware of his "wet face".

The Boy: What's that, mommy?
Me: Those are tears. You've been crying.
The Boy: My raining?
Me: (trying not to laugh) No, not raining, crying.
The Boy: Right. My raining. My rain. From eyes.

Almost adorable enough for me to forget that the whole thing started because he didn't want to eat lunch.

body parts

2006-09-23T21:52:00.000-05:00

OK. I'm a prude. I admit it. Frank talk about things of a sexual nature makes me a bit uncomfortable. Lord, help my children when it's time to have "The Talk".

Since the beginning of time with The Kiddos, I have referred to their business as their 'tushie' and their 'bottom'. It makes no difference to me that one of them is a girl and one is a boy, and that therefore they have completely different tushies; that's just the lingo we use. That's what I am comfortable with. Now you know.

I've read the articles about the benefits of calling the parts of the body by their "real" name. I don't disagree with the studies, necessarily, I just find that I don't have it in me to be so clinical with my small children. But, as much as I am a total prude, I also always knew that I wouldn't lie to my kids about anything. If they flat out ask me a question, I will answer it.

A long time ago, The Babe noticed that she and The Boy have different tushies. She asked me about it, point blank, and I told her that he was different from her because he is a boy and she is a girl. She asked me what it is called, what does he have, what's that extra piece? So, I told her. I said the 'P' word. I told her that's what it's called when you are talking to a doctor or nurse, but that around these parts, it's called a tushie. She asked what to call her tushie if she were speaking to a doctor or nurse, and I was forced to use the 'V' word, too. It was a great day for me, using both those words within 3 minutes of each other. I should have written down the date, because I had never intended for it to happen again.

Until today. The Babe and The Boy were in their bath. They have discovered that the bar of soap is funny, that it is slippery and silly when it's wet. They wash each other's tummys and backs and knees and elbows. They've been doing this for a few days, and I think it's cute. Today The Babe says "OK, now I'll wash your penis and you can wash my vagina". Hmmm... My ears perk up a bit at this, of course, and even though it absolutely could not have been more innocent, all I wanted to do was put a stop to it. But since there's really no way to do that without turning the whole situation into a bigger deal than it ever needs to be at this stage in their lives, I just kept my mouth shut. It was kind of sweet, after all, and it was followed with "OK, now get my tummy".

The best part came after the bath, as The Babe was trying to teach the words to The Boy. She told him what he had and what she had and pointed out the differences. The Boy was actually quite upset. "No!!! I have 'gina! I have 'gina, too, Dizzy". He was practically in tears. I guess I'll wait a while before I explain to The Boy that we don't actually get to share everything. Poor little guy, already knows it's better to be a girl, LOL.

i'm too popular

2006-09-21T22:50:00.000-05:00

Seriously. I'm too popular for my own good. Not socially - puh-lease, but with The Kiddos.

I have blogged often about The Boy and his clinginess. He has gotten much better this past summer, but he still sometimes cries when I leave him, especially if I am taking The Babe with me. "My go too, Mommy! My go, too!" I understand why he is upset; he thinks I am taking The Babe on some special, magical, treat of an errand and he doesn't get to go. The reality is usually that I am driving her to pre-school or ballet, but he doesn't understand that, and it makes me sad. Poor guy, thinks I'm just leaving him behind to go do something fun without him.

I have tried to remedy the situation by enrolling The Boy in a mini-gym class. Now he and I have our own special, magical errand to run, and The Babe doesn't get to come along. The Boy seems happy about it, and The Babe is old enough to understand what's really going on.

The kicker that I totally wasn't expecting came on Wednesday. The Babe has school on Wednesday afternoons, and I happened to have lunch plans with a very old friend of mine who is in town on business this week. I haven't seen her in about 2 years, and I was looking forward to lunch. As I was getting ready to go, I realized that my friend had never met The Boy, and there's no reason I shouldn't take him with me to lunch. He's a pretty well-behaved little fella, and it would be nice to get out just the two of us to lunch in the city.

OMG. The Babe. The Babe cried. She was so devastated that The Boy and I were going out to lunch and she could not join us. Her words were different, but she might just as well have been saying "My go too, Mommy! My go, too!". I was sad to leave her. It's not as though she wasn't invited, but she had school. I tried to explain... remember all the errands we run? How we sneak out of the house while The Boy is napping to run a silly errand and then we stop for a donut? I told her, that's her special time with Mommy, but now it's The Boy's turn. I think she did understand, but she was still sad and a little weepy when I left. She hasn't done that to me in years. I was so shocked, and I felt really guilty.

Today while The Boy was napping, The Babe and I had to run a legitimate errand to get her new ballet slippers. We had been planning all week to take care of this errand today, but you had better believe I made sure we stopped for a donut, too.

vacation, all i ever wanted....

2006-09-18T22:56:00.000-05:00

So, last week I was on vacation. Not just vacation from blogging (I did take a whole week off there, sorry about that!), but vacation from my job.

You all know by now that I work from home. So, vacation is weird. I'm still just home, except I have a lot less to do. I enjoyed being able to ignore the clock (to a certain extent... I mean, there are still children to feed), I absolutely loved going to bed early, and I do think I got a good amount of rest.

But it's weird just the same. When I was ever on vacation from a regular job, having the chance to be at home for a week was very appealing. When I take vacation from my current job, it's a bit unsettling. It's as though a third of the things that I take care of each day just don't exist. Imagine if you took vacation from work, but still went to the office every day and saw your desk and your computer and all the things to do. You don't do any of it, because that's the point of vacation; but it's still there, mocking you. I know I am not explaining this very well, all I can say is that it is disconcerting.

I swear, I was almost relieved to be back to work yesterday. I said almost. I have one week of vacation to take in each of the remaining months this year. That's 3 more weeks of vacation and no plans.

Remind me to travel next year. Please!

gender roles

2006-09-11T20:21:00.000-05:00

OK. I don't know what goes on where you live, but around here it's already started. Halloween. The Kiddos have already decided what they want to be, and costumes are already in the works.

In years past, The Babe has always been some sort of Disney Princess. Well, I know Tinkerbell isn't technically a princess, but you get the idea. This year, The Babe announced a desire to dress as a doctor, and while I know that many of the finest doctors are women, it's quite a large step away from being a Disney Princess. I was pleased with The Babe's decision, and I bought her a pair of real scrubs from a real hospital supplier's website. They are perfect, and cheaper than the doctor "costumes" on the halloween sites.

Last year, my husband picked out a pirate costume for The Boy. It's technically a Captain Jack Sparrow costume, and it is very cute. It was gi-nor-mous on The Boy last year, and we kind of planned that he would wear it again this year. He looked so adorable in it. Well, The Boy is at the age now where he has a mind of his own. Certainly when The Babe was this age, we let her pick her own costume.... and, well, The Boy does not want to be a pirate. He is very insistant. He absolutely does not want to wear that outfit.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked The Boy what he wants to be for Halloween. I was pushing the pirate costume pretty hard. "Look how cool it is - - Look, there's a sword - - Hey, this part glows in the dark!" The Boy was not buying it. He does not want to be a pirate. His answer? What he just HAS to be this year? A ladybug.

I am, of course, tickled pink! I would love to dress The Boy as a ladybug, and I think he would be adorable. My husband is not as excited. He understands, of course, that if this is what The Boy would truly like to be, then how do we force him to be something else? We can't. I have asked The Boy several times over the past few weeks what he wants to be, and each time his answer is the same. "ladybug, mommy! ladybug!". So, today I bought him a cute little ladybug costume. It's basically a heavy velour ladybug-looking poncho with a hood that has antennae on it. I bought him some cheap black sweat pants to wear underneath and I'll get him a black sweatshirt, too. My husband is not upset at all, so I need to give him credit. He says he's just disappointed because the pirate costume is so cool (and it is), but he agrees about The Boy: best ladybug ever!

outta here

2006-09-08T11:21:00.000-05:00

Well, this is the weekend. The infamous guilt-ridden, mommy going away with the girls weekend. Here I go. I'm really going. I am. Just give me a minute.

Getting me out of the house for the weekend involves a lot of planning. Step 1 was to line up my mother in law to come stay. That way, I don't feel as much like I am leaving them to fend for themselves. That sounds horrible, my husband is really great with The Kiddos. I think it helps ease my guilt, though, because instead of just saying "Mommy is going away for the weekend", I can now say "Gramma is coming to stay for the weekend!". The Kiddos know that I am leaving, but they are excited for Gramma to come stay. Sometimes, I can be smart like that. Sometimes.

Step 2 was to get everything done that could possibly need to be done around the house, so that I don't have to feel bad that I left the house "undone". I did everyone's laundry. Everyone's favorite outfits are clean. I washed all the bath towels. I washed all the dish towels. I washed the sheets and remade the beds. I grocery shopped and made sure everyone's favorite foods were stocked. I cleaned the kitchen. I cleaned everyone's room this morning. The house is all set. We're good.

Step 3 was getting the things I needed for the trip ready. It's all girls, and we were all asked to bring a side dish, etc to share. So, yesterday I spent a good chunk of time making chicken salad, banana bread, and lemon bars. While at the grocery, I picked up all the other things I'd need. Drinks to share, mostly. Fresca, tea, and beer. LOL.

Step 4 was to get everything ready for The Babe's first day of school today. I had to find her backpack, get her a folder for the teacher/parent correspondence. I had to get an "extra outfit" in there, just in case... We were assigned to decorate an apple ornament with a picture of our child and I had to get some family photos together for a class project. I completed the checklist this morning.

Now I am in the middle of step 5. Getting my shizz together and getting out the door. I have just finished packing my bag. I am proud that it is such a small bag. I am usually a huge over-packer. Now I have to pack the cooler full of my food items and make lunch for the kids. After lunch, we're off.

I'm really going. I am. Here I go. Just give me a minute.....

what kind of animal are you?

2006-09-02T16:05:00.000-05:00

This was the question we spent asking The Boy for the entire dinner time last night.

OMG, we're so smart! Genuises!

You see, The Boy has been on a bit of a food strike as of late. I know the doctors tell you that your child won't starve himself, and as long as you offer food on a regular basis, it's all good. Your child might eat more one day and less another day, but it all averages out. Don't worry. Hmmm... I see their logic, and I know they're right. BUT, it doesn't make me feel any better when I'm putting The Boy to bed knowing all he's had to eat all day is a half a breakfast bar, a handful of blueberries, and a piece of cheese.

So, last night at dinner, we made a game. It helps that we have recently been to the zoo. We'd ask The Boy "what kind of animal are you?", and he would smile. We'd say "Are you a giraffe?", and he'd say "noooo....", "Are you a bear?", "noooo....", and we'd keep asking different animals until we hit upon one that he seemed to like, and the answer would be yes. Then we'd say "Oh! You're a chimpanzee! Show me how a chimpanzee eats!" The Boy would enthusiastically show us that a chimpanzee loves his pasta, and he would take a few bites. Then we'd have to start over and find a new animal that The Boy wanted to be right then.

It turns out that lions and orangutangs are the best eaters. Lions don't even use utensils or their hands or anything, they just put their face directly in the pasta bowl and eat like that.

We were so proud of ourselves for discovering that this game would make The Boy eat. We had finally outsmarted him. Until - - -

It turns out that there are some animals that refuse to eat, too.

Game over (insert death of Pac Man noise here).

"every time you go away...

2006-08-31T22:16:00.000-05:00

.... you take a piece of me with you." Sing along, folks! You know you remember this old Paul Young song.

No, I'm not going to write another post (yet) about a song, it was just an appropriate title for me today.

My children are not here. They have gone to stay with their Gramma L. The four of us went out to lunch yesterday, and Gramma took The Kiddos home with her, while I went home all by myself. Well, my husband is still here, technically, but he's been working. I get The Kiddos back tomorrow, don't worry.

What this means is that I will have had two whole nights and one whole day in my house with no children to care for. How strange. Of course, I had grand plans for all of the things I would get done. I think my plans were too ambitious. I only finished about half of the things on my list.

-I stripped the beds and washed all the bedding in The Kiddos' rooms
-I cleaned up the bookshelf and put away books that have been outgrown
-I cleaned up the toys and put away those that are not given much attention anymore
-I spent way too much time on the computer
-I watched Project Runway 3 times last night
-I went out to lunch with my husband

Here are some odd things I noticed about myself when I get to be myself. First of all, I'm not very good at just being Erika anymore. I seriously didn't know what to do with myself, hence all the projects I gave myself. What did I used to do before kids? I must have been very bored. There wasn't even the internet back then! LOL. There was the internet, but I didn't even have email, that's for sure.

Secondly, I am apparently a slob. If I am not cleaning up after The Kiddos, I guess I'm just not cleaning. I left all my dishes in the sink for a whole day. There were crumbs all over my counter tops. I slept until 10:30 a.m. and barely made the bed. I did take a shower (thank goodness), but not until 8:30 p.m.

Third, I'm boring now. I spent a good deal of time looking at the clock and saying things like "Hmmm... it's 5:00, if The Kiddos were here, I'd be making dinner". or "wow, 6:00 already, and look at me, not even starting the bath". "7:15! I'd be putting The Kiddos to bed now".

Good God, woman, THINK! What did you used to do before The Kiddos? What did you think about? What happened in your day? How did you spend your time?

If today is any indication, I apparently spent my time sleeping, eating, and entertaining myself with mindless things such as the E! Fashion Police, Emmy edition. Yes, I must have been very bored. I am glad to get The Kiddos back tomorrow.

hi-fives

2006-08-31T00:40:00.000-05:00

The Boy is starting to potty train. Well, he has been starting to potty train for some time. He's in a lull, there's been no real progress since early July. In his defense, we're not really trying that hard. It's early yet. I won't worry about potty training unless it's still an issue when he's 4 (although I'm really hoping for 3).

Ever since this incident , The Boy has referred to tinkling in the potty as "making fountains". Silly boy. Silly, adorable little boy.

So, here's what's happening these days: The Boy will make a fountain in the potty without fail as long as he has no bottoms on what-so-ever. If he is wearing underwear, he doesn't always realize that he can't just let it all go right there as he would if it were a diaper. So, as long as he is nude:

he recognizes that he needs to go
he announces that he is on his way to going ("make fountain, mommy! make fountain!")
he goes
he wipes
he runs his naked bottom all over the house giving everyone a hi-five.

Could he be any cuter??!

these are days...

2006-08-24T22:09:00.000-05:00

.... to remember. OK. I'm not a very huge 10,000 Maniacs fan or anything, but I do like that song. Here:

These are the days you'll remember. Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this. And as you feel it, you'll know it's true that you are blessed and lucky. It's true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are the days you'll remember. When May is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour. You'll know it's true that you are blessed and lucky. It's true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days. These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break. These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face. And when you do you'll know how it was meant to be. See the signs and know their meaning. It's true, you'll know how it was meant to be. Hear the signs and know they're speaking to you, to you.

See, when I was in college, this song was a hit. At least it was in my circles. I always liked this song, and at the time I imagined it was about being young, and learning to live on your own, finding yourself and your freedom, etc etc. And it was about all of that at the time.

Now when I hear it, it's like a whole new song. Now it's about having a family and cherishing the moments, the small things we might otherwise forget. It's funny how the same song can have different meaning for you at different times in your life.

This is why I started blogging. Not because of an enormous love for the 10,000 Maniacs, no.... but because these are the days. These days, right now, are the ones I want to remember. I want to document the small, silly things that happen as part of every day life. I'm pretty sure I'll remember baptisms and first communions, first steps and first words. But I don't want to forget the seemingly mundane: the silly arguments, The Boy running outside naked because he's too excited about his tricycle to be bothered with clothes. The sweet things The Babe will do to keep The Boy from being sad. The first time he said in his small sweet voice "Goodnight, Dizzy".

"you'll know it's true, that you are blessed and lucky". Thank you 10,000 Maniacs. I couldn't have said it better myself.

murmer

2006-08-22T22:51:00.000-05:00

I don't know how many of you know that The Babe has a heart murmer. She was diagnosed with it while we were still in the hospital when she was born. She's had many tests done, and we go to the cardiologist every year for a check up. From everything I've been told, she has the most ideal kind of murmer, in type, size, and placement. So, yay! At her very first cardiologist visit, when she was one week old, they gave me a medical card to carry with me. The doctor explained to me that if The Babe were ever in an accident, needed surgery, or major dental work, that special precautions would need to be taken to prevent infection. Complications from said infection could be fatal, so I would always want to be sure medical professionals were aware of The Babe's condition.

The Babe is almost 5 years old now, and her murmer has never been a problem. Until today.

Today we saw the dentist. The Babe has been going to the dentist since she was 3. The first few times, they just poked around in her mouth a bit, but last time we went, they actually polished her teeth. So, we've had this appointment on the books for weeks now, and we've been talking it up. You know how it is with kids, you have to build them up to big things like this. About a week before any of her dentist appointments, we start talking very excitedly about how fun it is to go to the dentist, and we all practice making our best dentist faces, holding our mouths wide open for long periods of time. This madness works for us, and The Babe was very excited to go see the dentist today.

Because we had taken her to the dentist several times in the past, I was not even concerned about taking her today. Her murmer didn't even cross my mind, as certainly a routine cleaning does not qualify as major dental work. Wrong I was. At her very first visit to the dentist, back when she was 3, I had given them a copy of her medical card from the cardiologist to keep in their file. Glad I did. Apparently, the card says right on it (in medical speak) that The Babe needs to take an antibiotic an hour before routine dental cleanings in order to prevent the possible dreaded infection. I guess it's right there, you just have to speak medical-ese to understand it. This was never an issue before, because the most the dentist ever did was polish her teeth, but today they were planning to clean them with the metal tools and everything. So, we were a no-go.

I was worried that The Babe would be terribly disappointed, but our wonderful dentist understands kids very well. I've actually been seeing him since I was a kid myself. He looked in The Babe's mouth for a bit, told her how beautiful and perfect her teeth are, and gave her the usual goody bag with a new toothbrush and flosser. Thank goodness he's so good with the kids.

I, on the other had, felt like a total dumbass. I had brought my child to her doom without even knowing it. I know that's dramatic, and it wasn't that bad. Thank goodness the dental hygenist was on her game and read that card. But, I still felt stupid for not realizing that today would be a problem. Nice parent I am.

The plan now is that I need to speak to her cardiologist at her next visit (coming up!) and get updated written instructions on what is necessary before she has her teeth cleaned. If an antibiotic is needed, I need to have a scrip written so I can give her the dose an hour ahead of her appointments. The up side of this (I guess), is that the dentist is of the opinion that if the antibiotic is needed, her dental visits should be limited as a child. He doesn't want her to build up an immunity to the antibiotic as a child, because apparently it will be far more important when she is older... so, he says he'll only want to see her once a year, rather than every 6 months. He even said that depending on her teeth, he may only want to see her once every 2 years. So, at least there's that, for her.

guilt

2006-08-18T20:39:00.000-05:00

One of my oldest friends is hosting a "Girl's Weekend" at her summer cottage about 2 hours away. When I got the invite, I knew I wanted to go. I love my kids, I love my husband, but I need to get away with the girls.

"The Girls" consists of a group of us, I'd say 10-15 of us, depending who can make it, who have been friends since at least college years, some even since high school. Some are married with children, like me. Some are married but no kids, and some are still living the single life. We're a diverse group, and we always have a good time. So, yeah, I am itching to get away on this girl weekend. I've been excited about it since the dates were announced.

The planning that goes into me getting away can be a little overwhelming. I'll have to leave a good amount of instruction for my husband (and a separate set for the kids, LOL). We don't have a second car right now, so I need to catch a ride with a friend. We're leaving Friday afternoon, which should be fine, but I need to be home no later than 10:00 am on Sunday morning so my husband can get to work. So, even though I totally deserve this little weekend away, I'm already feeling guilty.

I feel guilty about leaving my husband with the kids all weekend. I feel guilty leaving the kids with just my husband. I feel like I will miss something, and they will miss me, and oh, how selfish of me to want to get away for less than 48 hours! I know it's ridiculous, and it certainly isn't going to stop me from going, but there it is. The Mommy Guilt. Every mother has it.

So today, we get a letter from The Babe's preschool announcing which classroom she is in and giving details on the fall schedule. The day I leave for my guilt-ridden, selfish mommy weekend away with the girls is the First Day of School. As if I didn't already feel bad enough.

*sigh* Repeat after me: "I deserve to get away, I deserve to get away, I deserve to get away". Maybe I'll actually believe it myself if I say it enough times.

little house

2006-08-17T23:59:00.000-05:00

When I was a girl, I read all the "Little House" books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Well, I read all of them except Farmer Boy. Almanzo never did interest me too much. I don't know exactly how I got into reading, I was too young to remember the details. But, I do remember doing a lot of reading as a kid. Not just the "Little House" books, either. Lots and lots of books... from Go Dog, Go to Little House to Encyclopedia Brown, Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew and Choose Your Own Adventure.... la la la and the list goes on.

So, how do you get your kids interested in reading? Conventional wisdom says that you do it by reading to them starting at a very young age. Well, we've been doing that, and I do think it works. My kids are certainly interested in books. The Babe's favorite book these days is the big book of Curious George stories, but only when I can convince her that we should read a story and not just a letter from the Sesame Street Dictionary. I don't know how much more I can take of that one.

So, out of sheer boredom on my part, and a desire to get The Babe interested in other books besides just those two, I took a trip to the library and came home with the first book in the "Little House" series: Little House in the Big Woods. The Babe and I read a chapter each day while The Boy is napping, and we have almost finished the book - - just one more chapter to go. I was worried about this at first, because these books do not have many pictures, and I wasn't sure if The Babe, at 4.5 years old, was ready for this. I needn't have worried. She looks forward to our "chapter book" as she calls it, and I am enjoying re-reading the same stories I must have read 100 times over when I was a girl.

I hope my plan works, and The Babe learns to love reading. We shall see.

"see me, mommy!"

2006-08-10T22:24:00.000-05:00

When they're young, and just learning, little kids speak their own language. Of course, there's the baby nonsense, and then comes the jibberish where it seems your child knows exactly what he's trying to tell you, but since none of it is in English, you can't understand. Next come the single word phrases, repeated over and over until the child gets what they want: "milk. milk. milk milk milk? MILK MILK!" Then the fragmented sentences are always fun. But the phase I am enjoying with The Boy right now is one of my favorites. It's the "Speaking English But Have My Phrases All Wrong" phase.

Today The Boy found a long lost pretend cell phone that plays music when you push the buttons. Some buttons simply beep, but some buttons make entire songs play, and The Boy dances. Now, The Boy doesn't dance like you or I might dance. What he does is skip/run around in a big circle (somewhat in rhythym with the music). He'll take up as much space as is available to make his circle, and when the song ends, he likes to end his dance by landing with a thud on his knees.

The Boy loves to dance, and he wants an audience. In between each song, he asks me to watch him, only that's not what he actually says. "See me, Mommy! Mommy, see me, please!" It's so cute.

My next favorite wording of his is how everything is kind of in the past tense, but not quite right. "My bowl felled" "I felled and hitted my mouth". I am always a little sad when they start speaking better English because it's much less fun.

Of course, it will be a while before I have to worry about it. The Babe still doesn't have it all quite right. She calls being without clothes "nakedless". I am sure she's confusing 'Naked' and 'topless', for example; but no matter how hard I try to explain that being "nakedless" would mean you were "without naked", meaning you would have clothes on... so therefore "nakedless" is the exact opposite of what she is trying to convey.... oy! I give myself a headache, no wonder she doesn't get it yet......

hide and seek

2006-08-08T17:57:00.000-05:00

Today I walked into the kitchen as The Babe was standing, face to the wall, hands over her eyes, counting to 100. When she got to 100, she called out "Here I come!" and ran off.

I look at DH, and quietly ask who is she playing with? Seriously, The Boy is in his nap, and she's obviously not playing with either one of us... so? I knew the answer already, of course. The Babe was playing hide and seek with on of her many pretend friends (they're not imaginary, mind you, they're pretend. She'll correct you every time).

So, I kind of laugh about it, and DH answers my question of with whom she is playing: "I don't know, but I bet they're hard to find". LOL.

concerned for her future

2006-08-03T17:43:00.000-05:00

Tonight, while eating dinner, The Babe informed me that she's hot. "Mommy, I'm hot. I need to take my shirt off." While it's not as though that's a very common request around these parts, we're not the kind of family that really cares about naked. "Sure, honey, take your shirt off." I'm thinking, what difference does it make? Just take your shirt off and eat your pasta.

Both of my children routinely parade around the house in various stages of dress and undress at all times of the day. They're little, who cares? If they're still behaving this way in mixed company while in their teens, I might start to worry. That's what I thought. But here I am today, concerned for her future.

The Babe took her shirt off, and proceeded to parade all around the kitchen.

"I'm topless! I'm topless! Look at me! I'm topless!"

Hmmmm....