A few days ago, the kids and I were killing time until Jeff got home. As usual. The hours of 3pm to 5pm are not 60 minutes long like the rest of the day. They are somehow magically stretched into 300 minutes each.
Now that Michael is crawling and pulling up and generally just getting into trouble, we can't just plop him down and wander through the house without him (like in an adventure game, or, God forbid, Neighbor). So I've been trying to do things that require us to stay in one room. Like, Lord help me, Castle. Ugh. That G-damn castle. Oh, wait, officially it is a wonderful gift that is enhancing and developing my daughter's imagination. Un-officially it is the torture device that creates whining, "Pay Cast-ell. Mommy, you be pin-cess. A-ew, you be king."
I digress. A few days ago, I managed to distract Lily from said castle with crayons and an Elmo coloring book. So Andrew immediately starts trying to take her crayons and color with her...a big no-no to a two year old and instant scream fest. I grabbed a handful of computer paper and asked Andrew if he wanted to make a story book with me. He lept at the idea and we folded the paper and began.
He had a definite idea for a story. I kept trying to suggest plot points, but he was really inspired. The story went like this:
Title: Mommy and Andrew's Story
pg1:Once upon a time there was a bean stalk.
pg2: There were people living on the bean stalk.
pg3: There was a princess, 2 wizards, and a giant.
pg4: The princess wanted the giant to go away.
pg5: She wanted her royal nap, but it was too loud!
pg6: The wizards raced to the giant. They made a magic spell.
pg7: It put bubbles in the air.
pg8: The giant blew the bubbles back to the wizards.
pg9: The bubbles hit the wizards and made them giants!
pg10: They picked up the princess and did a spell.
pg11: Now she was a giant!
pg12: She felt better than ever before.
We did illustrations for each page after writing down the story. Andrew wanted such details for the pictures, "Make the princess mad, Mom, she's really mad about not sleeping."
I am just about wetting myself with pride at this point. This was a REAL story, with a beginning, middle, and end. With plot points and resolution. My child is a future Pulitzer Prize winning author!
And then we went to draw the bubbles. I started to color them in and Andrew said, "No, Mom, they aren't colorful in the show."
What?!?
Yes, turns out that this is the storyline for a Backyardigans episode. Which explained a lot. And made that Pulitzer Prize kind of back shelved for the moment.
But I'm still a proud mommy. Because summarizing a tv show into a 12 page book is a pretty amazing skill for a 5 year old. My 5th graders couldn't summarize a single chapter in a book. And this kid could tell you what each of his Magic Tree House books was about...even though we read some of them months and months ago. And apparently he is also digesting his tv shows. And Backyardigans isn't even one we watch a lot. So, no Hemingway. But I'm still beaming. :)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
That's O-Kay!
Cute Lily pictures!
Here's Lily's closest face to a smile. She is playing with Lampchop, Crunchy, and Memere.
Lampchop and Crunchy are my mom's latest attempt to bring me to the brink of insanity. Lily wants to play CONSTANTLY.
Lily showing off her WAY cool Cookie Monster hair ties.
Lily doing some private business.
Lily doing some private business.
If you can catch it, Lily says, "That's o-kay"...which is her mantra when she spills anything. Which happens about 1,000 times each day. And then she says, "Leave me alone." Because, if you recognize the outfit from above...she is doing some private business.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
A snow day...in pictures
Andrew had no school today. For the first time this winter we had enough snowfall to *almost* cover the grass. Almost. It is supposed to get to 40 degrees today and was already raining...not snowing, raining...at 7 am. But Andrew was so DESPERATE to go sledding. I think it must be a genetic yearning triggered by the sign of white powder...must hurl myself over steep hill...
We have the perfect yard for sledding. Our backyard is the neighborhood sled riding hill...which makes it awfully convenient for me. :) Please enjoy:
We have the perfect yard for sledding. Our backyard is the neighborhood sled riding hill...which makes it awfully convenient for me. :) Please enjoy:
Okay, how come everyone else gets such cute shots of their kids on sleds? Andrew is crying because he got snow in his face a few minutes before, Lily is actually doing her best, and Michael is distracted by the 20 kids sledding down our hill. Not so great...
This is just a moment before I STRANGLED my eldest. His baby sister got a face full of snow just before him and shook it off. Andrew couldn't cooperate for one millisecond with me. -sigh-
Andrew on his way down the hill. Wondering how I can hold the camera AND take care of my two little ones at the top of an icy hill? See next photo for explanation.
Mother of the year award. Look at my superb supervision.
Andrew on his way down the hill. Wondering how I can hold the camera AND take care of my two little ones at the top of an icy hill? See next photo for explanation.
Mother of the year award. Look at my superb supervision.
Michael is sitting in the snow alone. Lily is basically trapped because she cannot move without falling over and cannot get back up because she has so many layers on.
Look, Mom! My slide is covered in snow!
Look how happy he is! The best baby in the world!
"I can't move."
And just a quick shot of Lily. Notice how she is seriously stuck...just too many layers.
Look, Mom! My slide is covered in snow!
Look how happy he is! The best baby in the world!
"I can't move."
Also, don't judge me for the mismatched coat and pants and Cars hat. She has cute matchy-matchy hats and gloves. But YOU try getting 3 kids ready for the snow. They just get the first hat you snatch out of the basket.
Andrew on the way up the hill. He did such a good job doing the heavy work.
Andrew on the way up the hill. He did such a good job doing the heavy work.
Seriously...cutest baby ever? What other baby would just SIT IN THE SNOW for 15 minutes? Without making a peep, I might add.
Here goes Andrew. Notice how he almost takes out other children. We don't get enough snow here to hone our sledding skills. But he had a blast and the other kids were really really patient with him. Don't want to piss off the mother of the sled-riding hill. These kids are smart!
And just a quick shot of Lily. Notice how she is seriously stuck...just too many layers.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
It's rough to be 3rd
Michael and I had a rough day yesterday. It was a tough youngest-child kind of day. Right when he was ready for his morning nap, instead of being placed in his comfy crib, he was jacked into his Barbaloot suit, buckled into the car seat, and driven to Andrew's pre-school where he was taken back OUT of the car seat, carried through the bitterly cold parking lot on my hip, then back into the car seat and THEN taken to the grocery store and made to ride in the Bjorn for an hour while I shopped. Poor kid. He did have fun at the grocery store, though, because he is getting a nice shot at Lily...who is in the seat in the cart. They play/harass each other through the whole trip...Michael desperately reaching for Lily's barrettes...Lily tickling his knees and playing peek a boo...Michael sticking his fingers in her mouth as he investigates her teeth (his favorite past time for all of us...future DDS?).
Anyhoo, we finally get back home and I stick Lily in front of the tv and race Mikey upstairs for a quick bite to eat and a very quick nap before we have to go back to pre-school to get Andrew. At this point, Michael is near hysteria with hunger (he was a little overdue to eat) and fatigue. We nestle into the rocker-which-no-longer-rocks (grrrr), and he eagerly latches on to drink. And then he BITES me. HARD. Which feels pretty much like you'd imagine. So I gasp and pull him off and yell at him...LOUD. Poor Michael (poor Mommy too). He was startled and scared to death. He immediately starts screaming and when I tried to latch him back on, he refused. Pushed away my breast and sobbed. I finally put him down and he quickly fell asleep. Until I woke him up 40 minutes later to go get his brother. Poor 3rd child.
Well, I figured he'd be STARVING when I woke him up...but I had no time to feed him. I tried to give him a quick nip...minus the nip. But he took one sip and then pushed me away and started to cry. I'd made him some formula in a sippy cup...he also refused that. So he cried all the way to get Andrew and all the way home. We all rush in the door and the older kids have to wait for me to make lunch because the baby is so frantic. But he only nursed for 2-3 minutes before totally rejecting the breast. Hmmmm...I start to wonder if this little biting episode is the end of our nursing relationship.
But the thing is...he refuses the formula. So I'm on to his game. No solids until he drinks some breast milk or formula. THAT is where his real nutrition is...no getting around it.
By 5 pm, Michael is a complete and utter mess. So hungry, but refusing formula AND breast milk. Mean old mommy won't give him baby food. What is a baby to do? Jeff got home and Mike and I went upstairs. He again refused to nurse. He actually drank about 2 ounces of formula. Begrudgingly. So I fed him some cereal and watermelon and carrots. At bedtime, he latched on and drank like a pro. Apparently our fight was over.
So we'll see. I can't help but yelp when he bites me...it is an involuntary reaction (must. get. teeth. out. of. nipple.) Hopefully he will stop biting...because he sure gets his feelings hurt when I yell. Little stubborn man.
Anyhoo, we finally get back home and I stick Lily in front of the tv and race Mikey upstairs for a quick bite to eat and a very quick nap before we have to go back to pre-school to get Andrew. At this point, Michael is near hysteria with hunger (he was a little overdue to eat) and fatigue. We nestle into the rocker-which-no-longer-rocks (grrrr), and he eagerly latches on to drink. And then he BITES me. HARD. Which feels pretty much like you'd imagine. So I gasp and pull him off and yell at him...LOUD. Poor Michael (poor Mommy too). He was startled and scared to death. He immediately starts screaming and when I tried to latch him back on, he refused. Pushed away my breast and sobbed. I finally put him down and he quickly fell asleep. Until I woke him up 40 minutes later to go get his brother. Poor 3rd child.
Well, I figured he'd be STARVING when I woke him up...but I had no time to feed him. I tried to give him a quick nip...minus the nip. But he took one sip and then pushed me away and started to cry. I'd made him some formula in a sippy cup...he also refused that. So he cried all the way to get Andrew and all the way home. We all rush in the door and the older kids have to wait for me to make lunch because the baby is so frantic. But he only nursed for 2-3 minutes before totally rejecting the breast. Hmmmm...I start to wonder if this little biting episode is the end of our nursing relationship.
But the thing is...he refuses the formula. So I'm on to his game. No solids until he drinks some breast milk or formula. THAT is where his real nutrition is...no getting around it.
By 5 pm, Michael is a complete and utter mess. So hungry, but refusing formula AND breast milk. Mean old mommy won't give him baby food. What is a baby to do? Jeff got home and Mike and I went upstairs. He again refused to nurse. He actually drank about 2 ounces of formula. Begrudgingly. So I fed him some cereal and watermelon and carrots. At bedtime, he latched on and drank like a pro. Apparently our fight was over.
So we'll see. I can't help but yelp when he bites me...it is an involuntary reaction (must. get. teeth. out. of. nipple.) Hopefully he will stop biting...because he sure gets his feelings hurt when I yell. Little stubborn man.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Who is my favorite?
Ah...the age-old question for parents...do you have a favorite child? No, really...not the politically correct answer...do you really really have a favorite?
When I had just Andrew, I was certain that he would always be my favorite. I mean, I love him so so so much, there was NO WAY I could love another quite the same. And he was my first...so everything he did was so special because I was experiencing it for the first time. I knew I would love my 2nd child a lot...but I thought that secretly Andrew might be my favorite.
And then Lily came. And I did love her right away...just like I thought I would. But...amazingly...I didn't feel like it was any less than my love for Andrew. How was this possible? One thing I didn't take into account was that even though Lily was having her "firsts" just like Andrew did...she did them in totally new and unique ways...hence making them equally exciting and wonderful. There is no worry about things being boring the 2nd time around...Lily is a completely different and fantastically wonderful mystery unfolding before my eyes.
So when I was pregnant with my 3rd, I was really worried that he would be a notch below the other two. Like I would have TWO favorites and then the poor unexpected, dare I say unwanted, 3rd child would be lagging behind. And then Michael came and the fierceness of my love for him has shocked me...continues to shock me every day. And I find myself cheering and running for the camera and coming almost to tears as I watch him grow up even though it is the 3rd time I've done this (you should have seen the hullaballoo when I found him standing in his crib yesterday!).
So, what? 3 favorites? Or rather, they cancel out so I have no favorites? What a boring politically-correct answer. Let me give you the REAL answer.
I DO have favorites. All 3 of my children have the POTENTIAL to be my favorite...but they don't always achieve it during the course of the day. Like last week when Michael was waking me up every 2 hours...not my favorite child. When Lily has repeated tantrums over things like where the peanut butter was placed in the bowl (Cr-AAAAAzy!)...not my favorite. When Andrew bugs me all day to play neighbor for the 100th time...not my favorite.
So last week Andrew asked me who my favorite child was. And I answered, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet today. Ask me when you're all asleep in bed and I'll tally up who got to be my favorite today." Seems like the most honest answer. ;)
When I had just Andrew, I was certain that he would always be my favorite. I mean, I love him so so so much, there was NO WAY I could love another quite the same. And he was my first...so everything he did was so special because I was experiencing it for the first time. I knew I would love my 2nd child a lot...but I thought that secretly Andrew might be my favorite.
And then Lily came. And I did love her right away...just like I thought I would. But...amazingly...I didn't feel like it was any less than my love for Andrew. How was this possible? One thing I didn't take into account was that even though Lily was having her "firsts" just like Andrew did...she did them in totally new and unique ways...hence making them equally exciting and wonderful. There is no worry about things being boring the 2nd time around...Lily is a completely different and fantastically wonderful mystery unfolding before my eyes.
So when I was pregnant with my 3rd, I was really worried that he would be a notch below the other two. Like I would have TWO favorites and then the poor unexpected, dare I say unwanted, 3rd child would be lagging behind. And then Michael came and the fierceness of my love for him has shocked me...continues to shock me every day. And I find myself cheering and running for the camera and coming almost to tears as I watch him grow up even though it is the 3rd time I've done this (you should have seen the hullaballoo when I found him standing in his crib yesterday!).
So, what? 3 favorites? Or rather, they cancel out so I have no favorites? What a boring politically-correct answer. Let me give you the REAL answer.
I DO have favorites. All 3 of my children have the POTENTIAL to be my favorite...but they don't always achieve it during the course of the day. Like last week when Michael was waking me up every 2 hours...not my favorite child. When Lily has repeated tantrums over things like where the peanut butter was placed in the bowl (Cr-AAAAAzy!)...not my favorite. When Andrew bugs me all day to play neighbor for the 100th time...not my favorite.
So last week Andrew asked me who my favorite child was. And I answered, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet today. Ask me when you're all asleep in bed and I'll tally up who got to be my favorite today." Seems like the most honest answer. ;)
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Moving on to babyproofing
Holy crap! I need to babyproof...for real. Despite being miserable with a cold and trying to cut his two top teeth (I can SEE them...just pop through already), Michael has decided to start army crawling EVERYWHERE. He just needs the appropriate motivation. If something is choking size/covered in dog slobber/full of germs from other children/paper or magazine that someone hasn't read...you can be sure that Mikey will be hauling over to get into it. If it is a baby toy...FORGET IT...he'd rather just sit contentedly in place, thank you very much. He is still quite clumsy at the whole forward motion thing, so the rest of us get endless amusement watching him drag his face/kick his feet pointlessly in the air/grunt in frustration. But he somehow manages to get where he wants to go. We've hidden the Wiggles guitar in Lily's playhouse, and he loves to go in after it. He'll just play in that house with the guitar for 15-20 minutes. I swear he has a longer attention span that most 2 year olds.
And yesterday, I went to get him up from his nap and he was SITTING UP in his crib. Sure enough, today he has shown up numerous time that he can easily move from a lying down position up into a sitting position. And he's pulling himself up to a kneeling position...I'm sure standing and cruising will follow shortly.
I know that this is less than spectacular on the gross motor skill scale for his age. For heaven's sake, lots of kids are walking by 10 months. Even Andrew was already cruising around furniture by 9 months. But...I really really don't want him too. There are so many hazards around our house that I feel powerless to stop, because of the other children. But I suppose he has to grow up sometime...and he'll survive somehow.
Also...update on the reward post earlier. Annie wrote: I would like to offer another suggestion which I also enjoy. I have found something called Rooibos tea. Hang on, even if you aren't a tea drinker...It is naturally decaf, so great for pregnant/nursing. Full of healthy minerals and antioxidants. Naturally sweet, so no extra sugar needed, AND it comes in lots of different flavors, including chocolately, carmelly, coffee-esque goodness. Takes 5 minutes to make, another 15 to drink. There's my vote for you. If you want to feel like it is REALLY a treat, it IS a little hard to find (look online) but modestly priced.I'll be accepting my commission for this free advertising
I was really excited (as I was about all of your other comments...it's nice to know I'm not alone in trying to find a reward). It was just what I was thinking...easy, yummy, something I could fit into my everyday and would really feel like a treat. Because Baby + Hot tea = disaster...so it could be something I have all by myself at the end of the day. I ran right out and bought a box of it at my local store. Vanilla flavored Rooibos tea from Africa. I was really excited.
Now, either I bought the wrong kind of Rooibos tea, or my friend Annie is a masochist. Because if this tea is a REWARD...her days must be filled with self-torture and starvation and other painful experiences. This tea...uh-oh...the bile is coming up as I think of it...it tasted like cough syrup mixed with tree bark fermented 100 years and then mixed with cow dung. Oh. Dear. God. Annie, my dear, you must try brownies. You are punishing yourself... Or I just bought some nasty version. But I'll be damned if I try to buy another type. I've got 14 tea bags stinking up my pantry already. ;)
And yesterday, I went to get him up from his nap and he was SITTING UP in his crib. Sure enough, today he has shown up numerous time that he can easily move from a lying down position up into a sitting position. And he's pulling himself up to a kneeling position...I'm sure standing and cruising will follow shortly.
I know that this is less than spectacular on the gross motor skill scale for his age. For heaven's sake, lots of kids are walking by 10 months. Even Andrew was already cruising around furniture by 9 months. But...I really really don't want him too. There are so many hazards around our house that I feel powerless to stop, because of the other children. But I suppose he has to grow up sometime...and he'll survive somehow.
Also...update on the reward post earlier. Annie wrote: I would like to offer another suggestion which I also enjoy. I have found something called Rooibos tea. Hang on, even if you aren't a tea drinker...It is naturally decaf, so great for pregnant/nursing. Full of healthy minerals and antioxidants. Naturally sweet, so no extra sugar needed, AND it comes in lots of different flavors, including chocolately, carmelly, coffee-esque goodness. Takes 5 minutes to make, another 15 to drink. There's my vote for you. If you want to feel like it is REALLY a treat, it IS a little hard to find (look online) but modestly priced.I'll be accepting my commission for this free advertising
I was really excited (as I was about all of your other comments...it's nice to know I'm not alone in trying to find a reward). It was just what I was thinking...easy, yummy, something I could fit into my everyday and would really feel like a treat. Because Baby + Hot tea = disaster...so it could be something I have all by myself at the end of the day. I ran right out and bought a box of it at my local store. Vanilla flavored Rooibos tea from Africa. I was really excited.
Now, either I bought the wrong kind of Rooibos tea, or my friend Annie is a masochist. Because if this tea is a REWARD...her days must be filled with self-torture and starvation and other painful experiences. This tea...uh-oh...the bile is coming up as I think of it...it tasted like cough syrup mixed with tree bark fermented 100 years and then mixed with cow dung. Oh. Dear. God. Annie, my dear, you must try brownies. You are punishing yourself... Or I just bought some nasty version. But I'll be damned if I try to buy another type. I've got 14 tea bags stinking up my pantry already. ;)
Friday, January 23, 2009
Cute girl scouts
So I don't know if you remember, but I was rather reluctant to have a girl.
It seems like a really long time ago, now that I have Lily and I LOVE Lily and I even sometimes Like Lily (at least 50% of the time). But when I found out I was pregnant with Andrew, my dad said, "It's going to be a boy. You just aren't the mother of girls." And I kind of agreed. And Andrew was a boy and everything was hunky-dory. Then, when I got knocked up again, I decided that I really wanted another boy, because I STILL wasn't meant to be a mother of girls but now I actually had a boy with boy toys and experience shielding my face from little boy fountains on changing tables etc. And I really really wanted bunk beds in a room full of dinosaurs. Plan ahead, much? But we found out it was a girl. Definitely a girl. And I was very excited by the time she arrived in a blast of painful glory 20 weeks later. But I was still full of regret for her...because as far as mothers of girls go, she really got dealt a crappy hand.
I think my first moment of sheer JOY at her gender was at Thanksgiving, when she was 6 weeks old (give me a break...I was full of JOY at Lily...but I was moving hundreds of miles away at the time and didn't have the proper ability to appreciate her gender yet...). Anyway, I was making Thanksgiving dinner, and I was preparing the French stuffing that my mother (actually my Memere) always made for the meal. It is one of those passed down recipes that usually really frustrate me...no real quantities, everything made to taste, etc. The first year I made it out in CA, it took a lot of coaching from my mom over the phone to get it right...and it really wasn't until the 2nd year that I got it right. Not something you can just get from a cookbook. And I remember making it and looking up at my teeny tiny baby girl sitting in the bouncer and realizing, "Oh! Now I have someone to pass this recipe along to!" And I know that you can pass recipes along to your daughters-in-laws or whatev'...but it was MY MOMENT...my big moment of realizing that having a daughter was not always about painting toenails or doing makeup or tutus or shopping sprees. That even a poor excuse for a woman like me had things to teach her daughter.
It has been over 2 years since that moment. I am now VERY glad to have a little girl in the house (really ever since Andrew started standing up to pee...). Lily is MY little girl, which means she tackles and wears sweat pants and has hair in her face and is loud and opinionated and just perfect. She has only 2 pairs of shoes...and she refuses to wear one of them. She loves watching Toy Story and Cars and she loves loves loves to read books. She is just the perfect girl for me. But I still have moments when I get hit over the head with how great little girls are.
Girl scouts came to our door last weekend. Two little girls probably about 7 or 8...their mom parked out in the street because it was so cold. One little girl hands me the sheet with all the cookies and starts to say earnestly, "Hello! These are girl scout cookies and they're really good. This one is minty and tastes great with hot cocoa. But if you like tea, these two are really good to pick. And this one used to be called Samoa." A very strong sales pitch.
Oh. My. God. It. Was. The Cutest. Thing. Ever.
And it worked. I bought a TON of cookies from these two sweet little things who acted as if they were the very first girl scouts I'd ever bought cookies from. "Good with tea!" Imagine!
And so I had another MOMENT (I would say A-Ha moment, but I'm afraid that Oprah has people watching the internet, and she'll slap me with a law suit and charge me $100,000 to use that phrase. Not that I even watch that show. Or DVR it.). Someday I too could have a sweet little 7 year old girl selling cookies and charming the snot out of people. I came back into my house, scooped up Lily, and hugged her. And she yelled, "Yeave me A-Yone! Stop, Mommy. Yeave A-Yone".
-sigh- I may have to start baking cookies with her or sign her up for a dance class if I want one of those sweet little girls.
It seems like a really long time ago, now that I have Lily and I LOVE Lily and I even sometimes Like Lily (at least 50% of the time). But when I found out I was pregnant with Andrew, my dad said, "It's going to be a boy. You just aren't the mother of girls." And I kind of agreed. And Andrew was a boy and everything was hunky-dory. Then, when I got knocked up again, I decided that I really wanted another boy, because I STILL wasn't meant to be a mother of girls but now I actually had a boy with boy toys and experience shielding my face from little boy fountains on changing tables etc. And I really really wanted bunk beds in a room full of dinosaurs. Plan ahead, much? But we found out it was a girl. Definitely a girl. And I was very excited by the time she arrived in a blast of painful glory 20 weeks later. But I was still full of regret for her...because as far as mothers of girls go, she really got dealt a crappy hand.
I think my first moment of sheer JOY at her gender was at Thanksgiving, when she was 6 weeks old (give me a break...I was full of JOY at Lily...but I was moving hundreds of miles away at the time and didn't have the proper ability to appreciate her gender yet...). Anyway, I was making Thanksgiving dinner, and I was preparing the French stuffing that my mother (actually my Memere) always made for the meal. It is one of those passed down recipes that usually really frustrate me...no real quantities, everything made to taste, etc. The first year I made it out in CA, it took a lot of coaching from my mom over the phone to get it right...and it really wasn't until the 2nd year that I got it right. Not something you can just get from a cookbook. And I remember making it and looking up at my teeny tiny baby girl sitting in the bouncer and realizing, "Oh! Now I have someone to pass this recipe along to!" And I know that you can pass recipes along to your daughters-in-laws or whatev'...but it was MY MOMENT...my big moment of realizing that having a daughter was not always about painting toenails or doing makeup or tutus or shopping sprees. That even a poor excuse for a woman like me had things to teach her daughter.
It has been over 2 years since that moment. I am now VERY glad to have a little girl in the house (really ever since Andrew started standing up to pee...). Lily is MY little girl, which means she tackles and wears sweat pants and has hair in her face and is loud and opinionated and just perfect. She has only 2 pairs of shoes...and she refuses to wear one of them. She loves watching Toy Story and Cars and she loves loves loves to read books. She is just the perfect girl for me. But I still have moments when I get hit over the head with how great little girls are.
Girl scouts came to our door last weekend. Two little girls probably about 7 or 8...their mom parked out in the street because it was so cold. One little girl hands me the sheet with all the cookies and starts to say earnestly, "Hello! These are girl scout cookies and they're really good. This one is minty and tastes great with hot cocoa. But if you like tea, these two are really good to pick. And this one used to be called Samoa." A very strong sales pitch.
Oh. My. God. It. Was. The Cutest. Thing. Ever.
And it worked. I bought a TON of cookies from these two sweet little things who acted as if they were the very first girl scouts I'd ever bought cookies from. "Good with tea!" Imagine!
And so I had another MOMENT (I would say A-Ha moment, but I'm afraid that Oprah has people watching the internet, and she'll slap me with a law suit and charge me $100,000 to use that phrase. Not that I even watch that show. Or DVR it.). Someday I too could have a sweet little 7 year old girl selling cookies and charming the snot out of people. I came back into my house, scooped up Lily, and hugged her. And she yelled, "Yeave me A-Yone! Stop, Mommy. Yeave A-Yone".
-sigh- I may have to start baking cookies with her or sign her up for a dance class if I want one of those sweet little girls.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Sleep deprevation
Oh. My. God. I. Need. Sleep.
Michael has had a cough for a week and a half.
Michael is trying his hardest to cut his two top teeth. His gums are swollen and I can see the teeth under the gums.
Michael is waking up every 2-3 hours all night long. And has been for a week and a half.
Our shitty glider from Babies R Us has broken...again...so I cannot rock him.
Michael refuses...REFUSES...to take a bottle. Or have anyone else comfort him.
We have a nebulizer for him now. Or as I like to call it, "Baby Torture Device". 10 minutes, 3 times a day??? Has the doctor ever tried this on a 9 month old?
At 2:30 last night (his second time waking already), I went back to bed and thought of how to escape. Or kill myself. The note would read, "I just wanted some sleep"
My mom and dad are visiting. Which is AWESOME, because I don't have to cook. Or clean. Or play games with my children. Which is NOT awesome because I feel bad just sitting around watching tv, feel guilty when my mom is doing my chores...so I find something to do as well rather than relaxing and conserving energy, we can't just order pizza for dinner every night (so food has to be bought, planned out, etc), I stay up later than I should because I want to hang out with them sans children, I feel guilty all day and night that my mom looks EXHAUSTED and BORED and I am not doing anything to relieve that, and because they are here, my aunt and uncle and cousin whom I haven't seen in years and years are coming to visit so I have to worry about cleaning and planning meals and will the children behave and where will everyone sit in our house and do we need snacks and is it too cold in the house and I really should go shovel the walk and dear God the floor needs mopping....all things I don't worry about when just my parents come (hence the reason they are cooking and exhausted and bored...)
All I really want is to curl up in a fetal position and cry.
All because I'm not sleeping. Pathetic.
What I really need to do is revert back to newborn mode...where I go to bed at 6:30pm...and curl up in a fetal position and cry. ;)
Michael has had a cough for a week and a half.
Michael is trying his hardest to cut his two top teeth. His gums are swollen and I can see the teeth under the gums.
Michael is waking up every 2-3 hours all night long. And has been for a week and a half.
Our shitty glider from Babies R Us has broken...again...so I cannot rock him.
Michael refuses...REFUSES...to take a bottle. Or have anyone else comfort him.
We have a nebulizer for him now. Or as I like to call it, "Baby Torture Device". 10 minutes, 3 times a day??? Has the doctor ever tried this on a 9 month old?
At 2:30 last night (his second time waking already), I went back to bed and thought of how to escape. Or kill myself. The note would read, "I just wanted some sleep"
My mom and dad are visiting. Which is AWESOME, because I don't have to cook. Or clean. Or play games with my children. Which is NOT awesome because I feel bad just sitting around watching tv, feel guilty when my mom is doing my chores...so I find something to do as well rather than relaxing and conserving energy, we can't just order pizza for dinner every night (so food has to be bought, planned out, etc), I stay up later than I should because I want to hang out with them sans children, I feel guilty all day and night that my mom looks EXHAUSTED and BORED and I am not doing anything to relieve that, and because they are here, my aunt and uncle and cousin whom I haven't seen in years and years are coming to visit so I have to worry about cleaning and planning meals and will the children behave and where will everyone sit in our house and do we need snacks and is it too cold in the house and I really should go shovel the walk and dear God the floor needs mopping....all things I don't worry about when just my parents come (hence the reason they are cooking and exhausted and bored...)
All I really want is to curl up in a fetal position and cry.
All because I'm not sleeping. Pathetic.
What I really need to do is revert back to newborn mode...where I go to bed at 6:30pm...and curl up in a fetal position and cry. ;)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A sleepy drunk
Andrew is now the proud owner of ear tubes.
We went in this morning at 8 am. Jeff worked Sunday so he could come with us. My parents made sure to come into town to watch the 2 little ones so we could both be there. I worked hard to make Andrew informed about what was going to happen without freaking him out.
We arrived and immediately had to wait. Andrew played his handheld UNO game and then we played Go Fish (He won). They brought us back and Andrew stripped down and put on a super soft fleecy hospital gown (um, excuse me, preggers would like those too, ya know?) and then covered him with a warmed blanket. Nurses and doctors came in to talk to us, get our autographs, and take Andrew's vitals. Andrew handled all this BEAUTIFULLY. This is my child who fears new experiences...I was so proud of how he handled himself. We overheard the people one curtain over get offered a popsicle. The nurse gave Andrew some "silly syrup"...mild form of a Valium-like substance. Before it started to take effect, the anesthesiologist came in to see if we had any questions. Andrew said he had a question, but he didn't want to ask it. The doctor was so friendly and nice, and explained that he had a 5 year old daughter and he really really wanted to hear Andrew's question. Finally..."Can I have a popsicle when I'm done?"
Then Jeff and I tried to laugh quietly so as not to wake the next curtain over as we watched Andrew descend into drunkenness. Oh. My. God. So funny. It was like a little window into Andrew's college days. He will be a sleepy drunk, I think...like his mother. We were worried he was going to fall out of his chair, so Jeff picked him up and tried to settle him on his lap. Andrew was mumbling incoherently, asking silly questions ("What is the door for?"), and examining his hand in front of his face as if it was a cool new gadget. He asked the nurses if they were twins and swore that there were two mommies sitting next to him. Seriously funny stuff. He was so out of it, that when they wheeled him away to surgery he didn't even care. Which is the point.
The doctor came and talked to us when it was done. She was surprised how much fluid was trapped in his ears and is pretty sure he will notice a difference in his hearing. I asked if he would stop making his sister scream once he can hear the total decibels. She said no (bummer). When he woke up, Jeff and I got to go back and sit with him. He cried pitifully as blood ran out of his ears (just a teeny bit). Jeff cuddled him and we tried to comfort him...this is a normal side effect to coming out of the anesthesia. He continued to cry that his ears hurt and that he wanted to go home. Then a nurse asked if he would like a drink or a popsicle. Andrew perked up, sat up, stopped crying, and said yes. He ate his green popsicle on Daddy's lap. Then we moved to a place where he could watch tv. He asked for another popsicle...red this time. By the time this one was finished, he was playing with his oxygen saturation finger thingy and talking about going out to breakfast. When he finished his 3rd popsicle (blue), they decided he was ready to go home. He was ready to sit and watch tv and eat popsicles all day.
We walked him out to the car and promised him a computer game for being so brave. He WAS brave...I am so proud of my little boy. We also told him we'd take him out for whatever food he wanted (no food or drink since last night...that's hard for a little guy). I told him that for one day only, he could have as much juice as he wanted. We buckled him into the car and Andrew said, "That was fun!"
I think he must have still been a little drunk. My happy little drunk. ;)
We went in this morning at 8 am. Jeff worked Sunday so he could come with us. My parents made sure to come into town to watch the 2 little ones so we could both be there. I worked hard to make Andrew informed about what was going to happen without freaking him out.
We arrived and immediately had to wait. Andrew played his handheld UNO game and then we played Go Fish (He won). They brought us back and Andrew stripped down and put on a super soft fleecy hospital gown (um, excuse me, preggers would like those too, ya know?) and then covered him with a warmed blanket. Nurses and doctors came in to talk to us, get our autographs, and take Andrew's vitals. Andrew handled all this BEAUTIFULLY. This is my child who fears new experiences...I was so proud of how he handled himself. We overheard the people one curtain over get offered a popsicle. The nurse gave Andrew some "silly syrup"...mild form of a Valium-like substance. Before it started to take effect, the anesthesiologist came in to see if we had any questions. Andrew said he had a question, but he didn't want to ask it. The doctor was so friendly and nice, and explained that he had a 5 year old daughter and he really really wanted to hear Andrew's question. Finally..."Can I have a popsicle when I'm done?"
Then Jeff and I tried to laugh quietly so as not to wake the next curtain over as we watched Andrew descend into drunkenness. Oh. My. God. So funny. It was like a little window into Andrew's college days. He will be a sleepy drunk, I think...like his mother. We were worried he was going to fall out of his chair, so Jeff picked him up and tried to settle him on his lap. Andrew was mumbling incoherently, asking silly questions ("What is the door for?"), and examining his hand in front of his face as if it was a cool new gadget. He asked the nurses if they were twins and swore that there were two mommies sitting next to him. Seriously funny stuff. He was so out of it, that when they wheeled him away to surgery he didn't even care. Which is the point.
The doctor came and talked to us when it was done. She was surprised how much fluid was trapped in his ears and is pretty sure he will notice a difference in his hearing. I asked if he would stop making his sister scream once he can hear the total decibels. She said no (bummer). When he woke up, Jeff and I got to go back and sit with him. He cried pitifully as blood ran out of his ears (just a teeny bit). Jeff cuddled him and we tried to comfort him...this is a normal side effect to coming out of the anesthesia. He continued to cry that his ears hurt and that he wanted to go home. Then a nurse asked if he would like a drink or a popsicle. Andrew perked up, sat up, stopped crying, and said yes. He ate his green popsicle on Daddy's lap. Then we moved to a place where he could watch tv. He asked for another popsicle...red this time. By the time this one was finished, he was playing with his oxygen saturation finger thingy and talking about going out to breakfast. When he finished his 3rd popsicle (blue), they decided he was ready to go home. He was ready to sit and watch tv and eat popsicles all day.
We walked him out to the car and promised him a computer game for being so brave. He WAS brave...I am so proud of my little boy. We also told him we'd take him out for whatever food he wanted (no food or drink since last night...that's hard for a little guy). I told him that for one day only, he could have as much juice as he wanted. We buckled him into the car and Andrew said, "That was fun!"
I think he must have still been a little drunk. My happy little drunk. ;)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thank you Erin!
If anyone tells you whining doesn't work...don't believe them.
Today I received a very timely package from Erin. I didn't win this contest, but she sent me brownies and a crafty frame thingy anyway.
I will post pictures of the craft frame thingy as soon as the batteries are charged in my camera. I'm afraid the brownies won't last that long. Did I mention timely?
So thank you, Erin! I don't know how you find the time...but it was so so fun to get a package in the mail!
Today I received a very timely package from Erin. I didn't win this contest, but she sent me brownies and a crafty frame thingy anyway.
I will post pictures of the craft frame thingy as soon as the batteries are charged in my camera. I'm afraid the brownies won't last that long. Did I mention timely?
So thank you, Erin! I don't know how you find the time...but it was so so fun to get a package in the mail!
Rewards for Mommies
Okay, so I'm slightly fat. No, not phat (although you COULD say that too), just a little fat. I would say about 20-25 pounds heavier than I *should* be. But my body disagrees. It thinks that 165 is JUST DANDY. I can starve myself all day, work out for a week, and still my body hovers around this number. (these are theoretical...of course I don't starve myself...or work out for a week). Hell, I was an involuntary bulemic for 5 months while pregnant with Lily and I STILL only lost 10 pounds...my body is ferocious about keeping these on. Who knows when the mastodon herd will move on and I'll need these reserves. So every day I wake up and give myself a pep talk: I am going to get healthier...don't worry about the number on the scale, just eat better and exercise. Make healthy choices throughout the day. Drink a glass of water before eating anything.
And then the children wake up. And I'm reminded of what my life is ACTUALLY like.
I could join a gym. I could...that would be getting serious about this. But the gym in our town is $170/month. I don't think I could EVER use a gym that much. I decided to walk the dog every day...a healthy way of getting out of the house. But then I slipped on the ice...which made me feel like walking in the winter is NOT a good thing, because what would happen if I sprained my ankle. Really...what would happen. I cannot afford to be injured. And then Shadow started limping during our walks...which made me remember that her little feet get cold and miserable too. Oops...never considered. So we are taking VERY SHORT WALKS now...hardly good for exercise. I could make healthy salads for lunch...except that I'm already trying to make 2 lunches for 2 picky eaters while squeezing in breastfeeding and putting down children for naps. Oh, and I eat breakfast before the kids wake up (usually around 6 am), so I am too STARVING to wait until 2pm to eat lunch. Excuses, excuses...
So another goal I have is to reward myself with something other than food. I am a BIG emotional eater. If the kids have frayed my nerves to dust (as they have several days this week), I crave brownies or pie or some other sweet treat. It is a reward for making it through the day...for doing this sometime thankless job. It is immediate gratification. It also works for when I have a good moment. Yesterday morning, I was a mommy superstar...making and feeding breakfast to 3 children, putting dinner in the crockpot, looking through magazines for Andrew's "homework" assignment, giving all three children baths, doing Lily's hair, AND still getting to school on time to drop off Andrew at 9 am. This will not be noted in my performance review. I can not look forward to a raise. In fact, there isn't even anyone around to notice when I do a better or worse job. So I want to reward myself...I am in essence my own boss. And that reward is always food.
Because (and this is where you come in), really, what else can I reward myself with? I need ideas I SUPPOSE I could look at myself in the mirror and chant, "You are super! You do such a good job! I'm so proud of you!" on good days or "Damn, it's commendable that you didn't kill those children today. What a model of self-restraint." on bad days.
Here are the rules for your reward suggestions:
1) It must not take too much time. Remember, I still have Mr. Bottles-are-the-anti-Christ that needs me every 3 hours during the day.
2) It must not be too expensive. I am cheap...if it is too expensive, I won't enjoy it anyway.
3) Shopping is usually irrelevant. What am I going to shop for? Nice clothes for Lily to wipe syrup on? Earrings that Michael can rip out of my ears? Pretty purses that I can leave in the car because I have so much other CRAP to lug around when I go out?
4) I would like it to be relatively immediate. It doesn't help to say, "Well, in just 5 years, Michael will be in school and you can go get coffee by yourself."
HOWEVER...this isn't meant to be too much of a sob post...because I DO realize that this stage of life...this tethering to the home and young children is temporary. And in just a few years, I will have my mornings to myself...and the evenings will be filled with fighting children to get their homework done, damn it!...and why won't you bathe? you stink...and Dear God, Andrew's been sleeping for 12 hours, he is such a lazy bum...and then they will be gone and I'll be sad that it's just me puttering around here with only my hobbies to entertain me. (yea...that's REALLY hard to believe right now).
So any suggestions for this TEMPORARY stage in life? Should I just suck it up and be a grown-up and realize that adults don't GET rewards for just doing their job? Yea...probably. But that's not what I'm hoping to get from you ;)
And then the children wake up. And I'm reminded of what my life is ACTUALLY like.
I could join a gym. I could...that would be getting serious about this. But the gym in our town is $170/month. I don't think I could EVER use a gym that much. I decided to walk the dog every day...a healthy way of getting out of the house. But then I slipped on the ice...which made me feel like walking in the winter is NOT a good thing, because what would happen if I sprained my ankle. Really...what would happen. I cannot afford to be injured. And then Shadow started limping during our walks...which made me remember that her little feet get cold and miserable too. Oops...never considered. So we are taking VERY SHORT WALKS now...hardly good for exercise. I could make healthy salads for lunch...except that I'm already trying to make 2 lunches for 2 picky eaters while squeezing in breastfeeding and putting down children for naps. Oh, and I eat breakfast before the kids wake up (usually around 6 am), so I am too STARVING to wait until 2pm to eat lunch. Excuses, excuses...
So another goal I have is to reward myself with something other than food. I am a BIG emotional eater. If the kids have frayed my nerves to dust (as they have several days this week), I crave brownies or pie or some other sweet treat. It is a reward for making it through the day...for doing this sometime thankless job. It is immediate gratification. It also works for when I have a good moment. Yesterday morning, I was a mommy superstar...making and feeding breakfast to 3 children, putting dinner in the crockpot, looking through magazines for Andrew's "homework" assignment, giving all three children baths, doing Lily's hair, AND still getting to school on time to drop off Andrew at 9 am. This will not be noted in my performance review. I can not look forward to a raise. In fact, there isn't even anyone around to notice when I do a better or worse job. So I want to reward myself...I am in essence my own boss. And that reward is always food.
Because (and this is where you come in), really, what else can I reward myself with? I need ideas I SUPPOSE I could look at myself in the mirror and chant, "You are super! You do such a good job! I'm so proud of you!" on good days or "Damn, it's commendable that you didn't kill those children today. What a model of self-restraint." on bad days.
Here are the rules for your reward suggestions:
1) It must not take too much time. Remember, I still have Mr. Bottles-are-the-anti-Christ that needs me every 3 hours during the day.
2) It must not be too expensive. I am cheap...if it is too expensive, I won't enjoy it anyway.
3) Shopping is usually irrelevant. What am I going to shop for? Nice clothes for Lily to wipe syrup on? Earrings that Michael can rip out of my ears? Pretty purses that I can leave in the car because I have so much other CRAP to lug around when I go out?
4) I would like it to be relatively immediate. It doesn't help to say, "Well, in just 5 years, Michael will be in school and you can go get coffee by yourself."
HOWEVER...this isn't meant to be too much of a sob post...because I DO realize that this stage of life...this tethering to the home and young children is temporary. And in just a few years, I will have my mornings to myself...and the evenings will be filled with fighting children to get their homework done, damn it!...and why won't you bathe? you stink...and Dear God, Andrew's been sleeping for 12 hours, he is such a lazy bum...and then they will be gone and I'll be sad that it's just me puttering around here with only my hobbies to entertain me. (yea...that's REALLY hard to believe right now).
So any suggestions for this TEMPORARY stage in life? Should I just suck it up and be a grown-up and realize that adults don't GET rewards for just doing their job? Yea...probably. But that's not what I'm hoping to get from you ;)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Just gotta get it down...
Here are a few totally disconnected stories that I just want to get down in writing for my future self. Enjoy...or not. This one's totally for me.
Lily gets upset when she spills something or makes a mess. I believe I had a post a while back about our painting adventures...a good example of this problem she has. Incidentally, Andrew has had similar issues...I'm pretty sure they are MY issues that I have passed along through every gasp and grumble at messes. But What-EVER. Now that Michael is eating solids, now that we have 2 highchairs at the table, now that we have discovered that there is no conceivable way to put the highchairs close together, now that Lily is all the way at the end of the table by herself, I can't be wiping off her hands every time she gets a little yogurt on her thumb. And since she is all alone down there, there is yogurt EVERYWHERE...not just on her thumb. So she will hold up the offending limb and request the clean up crew. I have taken to saying, "It's okay. I'll clean you all up at the end. It's okay." So now it has become Lily's mantra everytime there is a mess. She'll drop a syrupy waffle piece right in her clean hair, "It's okay, mom. It's okay." Or the yogurt container will fall over, spilling it's contents all over her pants, "It's okay." Which is all well and good. Except now she will be playing in another room, and I'll hear her call out, "It's okay, Mom. It's okay." And when I run in, I can't tell what has happened. And she won't tell me, just repeating, "It's okay." A few days ago, it took me 5 minutes to find the spilled sippy cup behind her little Elmo couch...because she just kept repeating her mantra. I about had a heart attack in the grocery when I was looking at the shelf to pick out fajita mix and Lily started saying, "It's okay." I looked frantically around for a broken jar of salsa or a missing barrette or shoe. I'm pretty sure, "pretty sure", it was just a dropped fruit snack. I think.
Andrew loves football. Have I mentioned that before (ya think?). His attention span is getting a lot longer with actually watching games. And there are commercials...which he doesn't mind at all. I REFUSE to watch kids television with commercials. We are a PBS family...with an occasional Mickey Mouse Club House/Hi-5/Blue's Clues non-commercial show thrown in. Commercials are quite novel for Andrew. And apparently he's paying attention. We had friends over for dinner last weekend, and the husband likes beer. We don't tend to have beer in the house, so I sent Jeff and Andrew on an errand to 1)get haircuts 2)get beer. No beer in grocery stores here in the great state of PA...must go to beer store. (and buy a gigantic year-supply case...no 6 packs here...) Anyhoo, Andrew walks in and says to Jeff (loudly), "So, Dad. Are you going to get Bud Light?" Again...we do not have beer in the house. I blame football.
Speaking of football...Jeff and Andrew are totally recruiting Lily to love football. She gets in a 3-point stance and says "hike" and tackles and passes the football. She yells, "Touchdown!" and "Go Buckeyes" and "Go Eagles". So I am going to take Michael. I deserve at least ONE child who will go to the movies with me on Sundays or to the park to hike or whatever. Jeff could have left me the girl-child, but since he didn't, Michael's going to be my buddy. Of course, he already reaches for the football and LOVE to gum it. -sigh-
Michael seriously needs to learn how to crawl. He rolls everywhere, even rotating his body so that he can roll in the direction he wants to. But he hasn't learned to clear the rolling area, so he is constantly rolling on top of box lids, wooden blocks(ouch!), FP animals, etc. He also likes to try and pull himself to standing, but he refuses to use anything higher than himself while sitting. Which means he can pull himself to his knees...but then he's just become taller than his object...so there is no pulling to standing. So he is stuck on his knees, crying for someone to come and save him. CRAWL.
Andrew has heard me telling everyone that he is getting tubes because of the fluid in his ears. Smarty pants has no problems eavesdropping...fluid or no fluid. Jeff was getting upset because Andrew STILL HADN'T PUT ON HIS SHOES, and Andrew calmly said, "Sorry, Dad. I have fluid in my ears, so I can't hear you real good." Uh-huh.
Shadow loves Michael. I can't even understand it. She loves to sit right next to him while he's on the floor. He pulls her ears, tugs on her collar, smacks her across the head. She just takes the abuse...never snapping and still seeking him out. I just don't get it. The most pathetic was one day he was lying on his back doing giant frog kicks with his legs. She moved right up against him, getting kicked to high heaven. It must have HURT! And this kid isn't even feeding her yet. I can't figure it out. I think they must be soul mates. :)
Lily gets upset when she spills something or makes a mess. I believe I had a post a while back about our painting adventures...a good example of this problem she has. Incidentally, Andrew has had similar issues...I'm pretty sure they are MY issues that I have passed along through every gasp and grumble at messes. But What-EVER. Now that Michael is eating solids, now that we have 2 highchairs at the table, now that we have discovered that there is no conceivable way to put the highchairs close together, now that Lily is all the way at the end of the table by herself, I can't be wiping off her hands every time she gets a little yogurt on her thumb. And since she is all alone down there, there is yogurt EVERYWHERE...not just on her thumb. So she will hold up the offending limb and request the clean up crew. I have taken to saying, "It's okay. I'll clean you all up at the end. It's okay." So now it has become Lily's mantra everytime there is a mess. She'll drop a syrupy waffle piece right in her clean hair, "It's okay, mom. It's okay." Or the yogurt container will fall over, spilling it's contents all over her pants, "It's okay." Which is all well and good. Except now she will be playing in another room, and I'll hear her call out, "It's okay, Mom. It's okay." And when I run in, I can't tell what has happened. And she won't tell me, just repeating, "It's okay." A few days ago, it took me 5 minutes to find the spilled sippy cup behind her little Elmo couch...because she just kept repeating her mantra. I about had a heart attack in the grocery when I was looking at the shelf to pick out fajita mix and Lily started saying, "It's okay." I looked frantically around for a broken jar of salsa or a missing barrette or shoe. I'm pretty sure, "pretty sure", it was just a dropped fruit snack. I think.
Andrew loves football. Have I mentioned that before (ya think?). His attention span is getting a lot longer with actually watching games. And there are commercials...which he doesn't mind at all. I REFUSE to watch kids television with commercials. We are a PBS family...with an occasional Mickey Mouse Club House/Hi-5/Blue's Clues non-commercial show thrown in. Commercials are quite novel for Andrew. And apparently he's paying attention. We had friends over for dinner last weekend, and the husband likes beer. We don't tend to have beer in the house, so I sent Jeff and Andrew on an errand to 1)get haircuts 2)get beer. No beer in grocery stores here in the great state of PA...must go to beer store. (and buy a gigantic year-supply case...no 6 packs here...) Anyhoo, Andrew walks in and says to Jeff (loudly), "So, Dad. Are you going to get Bud Light?" Again...we do not have beer in the house. I blame football.
Speaking of football...Jeff and Andrew are totally recruiting Lily to love football. She gets in a 3-point stance and says "hike" and tackles and passes the football. She yells, "Touchdown!" and "Go Buckeyes" and "Go Eagles". So I am going to take Michael. I deserve at least ONE child who will go to the movies with me on Sundays or to the park to hike or whatever. Jeff could have left me the girl-child, but since he didn't, Michael's going to be my buddy. Of course, he already reaches for the football and LOVE to gum it. -sigh-
Michael seriously needs to learn how to crawl. He rolls everywhere, even rotating his body so that he can roll in the direction he wants to. But he hasn't learned to clear the rolling area, so he is constantly rolling on top of box lids, wooden blocks(ouch!), FP animals, etc. He also likes to try and pull himself to standing, but he refuses to use anything higher than himself while sitting. Which means he can pull himself to his knees...but then he's just become taller than his object...so there is no pulling to standing. So he is stuck on his knees, crying for someone to come and save him. CRAWL.
Andrew has heard me telling everyone that he is getting tubes because of the fluid in his ears. Smarty pants has no problems eavesdropping...fluid or no fluid. Jeff was getting upset because Andrew STILL HADN'T PUT ON HIS SHOES, and Andrew calmly said, "Sorry, Dad. I have fluid in my ears, so I can't hear you real good." Uh-huh.
Shadow loves Michael. I can't even understand it. She loves to sit right next to him while he's on the floor. He pulls her ears, tugs on her collar, smacks her across the head. She just takes the abuse...never snapping and still seeking him out. I just don't get it. The most pathetic was one day he was lying on his back doing giant frog kicks with his legs. She moved right up against him, getting kicked to high heaven. It must have HURT! And this kid isn't even feeding her yet. I can't figure it out. I think they must be soul mates. :)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
No, thank you
Just a few things bugging me today...
I received a J. Crew catalog in the mail by accident...it was supposed to go to someone with the same number different street. I remember J. Crew from high school...a store that people cooler than me shopped in. A store that I really like what the mannequins wore in the window. Um...what the heck happened. I leafed through the catalog today in a desperate attempt to look occupied, thus saving me from a 5th game of "Neighbor" with Andrew and Lily. The clothes didn't match, I hated the way the fabric looked, and don't even get me started on the fit of the styles. Belts on the outside of unbuttoned jackets. Silky animal print camisoles with big bow-things tied on top and then topped with a lime sweater. Vests with sideways pleats...ugh. One model is wearing a polka-dotted short skirt paired with a tiny graphic t-shirt and a granny cardigan. This 3 piece outfit (?) comes to a total of $296. I found the jeans section, and there is a woman in a pair of faded jeans with a big hole in the knee and about-to-be holes in a lot of other places. "Antique destroyed wash" is what they are called. $148.
I say to you, fashion...NO THANK YOU. I can wear out my own holes jeans, thank you very much. And I can raid my grandmother's and teenage cousin's and career woman friends' closets and randomly combine to make outfits, thank you very much.
THEN, went to Andrew's Pre-admission appointment (did I mention he's getting tubes next week?) with the whole circus parade in tow. They told me to set aside 2 HOURS...I was sweating and shaking as we walked into the hospital, Andrew holding the stroller, Lily in the stroller, Michael in the Bjorn. As I reach to open the door and shimmy the stroller through, a couple comes walking out. I wait for the woman to exit and then the man stops to let me through...nicely holding the door for me. Except that as I wheel to reposition my stroller to get through at the correct angle, and try to communicate to my 5 year old to get in front of me (all the while my 20 lb infant kicks and squirms against my chest), the man says, "Well come ON, will ya?"
I say to you, rude man posing as a polite gentleman...NO THANK YOU. I can get the door myself, thank you. I do not need you rushing me in your attempt to look gallant. I have 3 small children I am trying to maneuver through a busy parking garage. I am carting enough cargo to entertain said children for a potential 2 hours in a small waiting room. I do not need to rush, I do not need you. NO THANK YOU.
Ah...I feel better. BTW...the appointment took exactly 23 minutes. With an absolutely lovely staff helping me throughout. (Andrew has had fluid in his ears at every doctor's appointment his entire life. Only about 3 ear infections when he was two...but always fluid. And he is starting to lose hearing...hence the tubes to clear the fluid.) And then the nurse complimented me, calling me, "Very organized and capable, with lovely children." Until Lily screamed and shattered their windows when we went to leave and I made her put her coat back on. I'm sure she wished she'd held back her compliment then. ;)
And, finally, here's my recommendation of the day. Most of you probably do this already, and don't think it is very novel. But it works so well for me, what if someone out there doesn't do it??? I did this for Andrew and now for Lily...I keep a small bag of very desirable toys in the car. For Andrew is was these little Tonka cars. For Lily it is My Little Ponies. No where in the rest of their lives do they get to play with these particular toys. ONLY when we are in restaurants or appointments. Lily is literally THRILLED to go to doctor's appointments (and I'm sure at restaurants if we were actually dumb enough to go out to eat...) because of these 3 stupid ponies. Right now Andrew has a book of word searches...he only gets them when we are out. Works like a charm. So I highly highly recommend finding something small like this and saving it...even if they LOVE LOVE LOVE it...don't give in and let them carry it indoors to join the rest of your toys. There was a bit of a fight the first time I asked Lily to leave them behind. But now she knows. So there you go...
I received a J. Crew catalog in the mail by accident...it was supposed to go to someone with the same number different street. I remember J. Crew from high school...a store that people cooler than me shopped in. A store that I really like what the mannequins wore in the window. Um...what the heck happened. I leafed through the catalog today in a desperate attempt to look occupied, thus saving me from a 5th game of "Neighbor" with Andrew and Lily. The clothes didn't match, I hated the way the fabric looked, and don't even get me started on the fit of the styles. Belts on the outside of unbuttoned jackets. Silky animal print camisoles with big bow-things tied on top and then topped with a lime sweater. Vests with sideways pleats...ugh. One model is wearing a polka-dotted short skirt paired with a tiny graphic t-shirt and a granny cardigan. This 3 piece outfit (?) comes to a total of $296. I found the jeans section, and there is a woman in a pair of faded jeans with a big hole in the knee and about-to-be holes in a lot of other places. "Antique destroyed wash" is what they are called. $148.
I say to you, fashion...NO THANK YOU. I can wear out my own holes jeans, thank you very much. And I can raid my grandmother's and teenage cousin's and career woman friends' closets and randomly combine to make outfits, thank you very much.
THEN, went to Andrew's Pre-admission appointment (did I mention he's getting tubes next week?) with the whole circus parade in tow. They told me to set aside 2 HOURS...I was sweating and shaking as we walked into the hospital, Andrew holding the stroller, Lily in the stroller, Michael in the Bjorn. As I reach to open the door and shimmy the stroller through, a couple comes walking out. I wait for the woman to exit and then the man stops to let me through...nicely holding the door for me. Except that as I wheel to reposition my stroller to get through at the correct angle, and try to communicate to my 5 year old to get in front of me (all the while my 20 lb infant kicks and squirms against my chest), the man says, "Well come ON, will ya?"
I say to you, rude man posing as a polite gentleman...NO THANK YOU. I can get the door myself, thank you. I do not need you rushing me in your attempt to look gallant. I have 3 small children I am trying to maneuver through a busy parking garage. I am carting enough cargo to entertain said children for a potential 2 hours in a small waiting room. I do not need to rush, I do not need you. NO THANK YOU.
Ah...I feel better. BTW...the appointment took exactly 23 minutes. With an absolutely lovely staff helping me throughout. (Andrew has had fluid in his ears at every doctor's appointment his entire life. Only about 3 ear infections when he was two...but always fluid. And he is starting to lose hearing...hence the tubes to clear the fluid.) And then the nurse complimented me, calling me, "Very organized and capable, with lovely children." Until Lily screamed and shattered their windows when we went to leave and I made her put her coat back on. I'm sure she wished she'd held back her compliment then. ;)
And, finally, here's my recommendation of the day. Most of you probably do this already, and don't think it is very novel. But it works so well for me, what if someone out there doesn't do it??? I did this for Andrew and now for Lily...I keep a small bag of very desirable toys in the car. For Andrew is was these little Tonka cars. For Lily it is My Little Ponies. No where in the rest of their lives do they get to play with these particular toys. ONLY when we are in restaurants or appointments. Lily is literally THRILLED to go to doctor's appointments (and I'm sure at restaurants if we were actually dumb enough to go out to eat...) because of these 3 stupid ponies. Right now Andrew has a book of word searches...he only gets them when we are out. Works like a charm. So I highly highly recommend finding something small like this and saving it...even if they LOVE LOVE LOVE it...don't give in and let them carry it indoors to join the rest of your toys. There was a bit of a fight the first time I asked Lily to leave them behind. But now she knows. So there you go...
Sunday, January 11, 2009
I've been tagged
My friend, Joey, tagged me on her blog (for those of you in "real" life...she's my 'cyberfriend'...one of those I've never met in person. Or does 'cyberfriend make her sound like a robot? Well, she's a cool, not-so-robot friend with 3 kiddos in Iowa who I would really LIKE to meet someday...how about that?).
The instructions were:1. Go to your photo folders and open the 4th folder.2. Choose the 4th photo.3. Explain the photo.4. Tag 4 other people!
I have lots and lots of folders. There are lots of different combinations of this 4th folder technique I guess because of how we have our photos organized. So I just kind of kept picking the 4th folder, until I came to the place where there were only 2 folders to choose from, so I picked the 2nd one and then picked the 4th picture. What-EVER.
This is from 2006. Pre-Lily. It was in our neighborhood pool. One of the 4 pools in our neighborhood. -sigh- I miss our neighborhood. I like PA, don't get me wrong, but we lived in a SWEET-ASS house in a SWEET-ASS neighborhood in a SWEET-ASS town full of laid-back middle of America people instead of high-strung heart-attacks in designer boots over here. (have I told you the story of Christmas Day this year where I almost witnessed a fist fight in the grocery store parking lot because one man had THE AUDACITY to stop to pick up his elderly mother at the store entrance. HIGH-STRUNG). Anyhoo...I am very very happy with my life...and I like to think I am not materialistic at all...very functionality oriented. This house is fine, it fits our family...this neighborhood is fine...safe and all...but -sigh- I don't think we'll ever live anywhere as nice as there.
The instructions were:1. Go to your photo folders and open the 4th folder.2. Choose the 4th photo.3. Explain the photo.4. Tag 4 other people!
I have lots and lots of folders. There are lots of different combinations of this 4th folder technique I guess because of how we have our photos organized. So I just kind of kept picking the 4th folder, until I came to the place where there were only 2 folders to choose from, so I picked the 2nd one and then picked the 4th picture. What-EVER.
This is from 2006. Pre-Lily. It was in our neighborhood pool. One of the 4 pools in our neighborhood. -sigh- I miss our neighborhood. I like PA, don't get me wrong, but we lived in a SWEET-ASS house in a SWEET-ASS neighborhood in a SWEET-ASS town full of laid-back middle of America people instead of high-strung heart-attacks in designer boots over here. (have I told you the story of Christmas Day this year where I almost witnessed a fist fight in the grocery store parking lot because one man had THE AUDACITY to stop to pick up his elderly mother at the store entrance. HIGH-STRUNG). Anyhoo...I am very very happy with my life...and I like to think I am not materialistic at all...very functionality oriented. This house is fine, it fits our family...this neighborhood is fine...safe and all...but -sigh- I don't think we'll ever live anywhere as nice as there.
Okay, then. Now that I'm done wallowing in yester-year (aren't you glad you tagged me, Joey?). I will not tag anyone, because I know I feel a little junior-highish-left-out-and-insecure when I don't get picked for these things. ;) So show us your old pictures, if you wanna.
The end.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
A Mother's GPS
I got a GPS for Christmas. It is AWESOME. I really really can use one of those things.
I:
#1: Have no sense of direction. I may as well be driving around with a bag over my head. I don't recognize landmarks, don't remember street names, I can't follow the North Star, nothing. Hopeless.
#2: I have lived in too many freakin' places. If I could just STAY IN ONE PLACE for a while, perhaps I could "fake it" when it came to knowing how to get places. But instead, my brain is one big jumble of maps...I know how to get to the Kroger in Montgomery OH, the mall in Dayton, the library in Yorba Linda, the zoo in Louisville, the Farmer's market here in suburbia PA...you see how it goes? Not enough brain cells to remember all the places...so I remember not so much.
#3: The east coast is frickin' CRAZY when it comes to street names. In Ohio, everything is laid out in a grid. Unless you are in the middle of nowhere. But that's just where Jeff grew up. In Ohio where I grew up, if you come to an intersection and turn 90 degrees...you have just turned onto another street. Not so, here in the great state of PA. I know I've said it before, but as an example here are the directions to Andrew's school (street names changed to protect the innocent). Turn left onto Frogtown-Toadtown Rd. At the first light, turn left onto Frogtown-Toadtown Rd. Go through 2 lights. At the 2nd light, turn onto Ribbit Farm Lane. At the first light, turn left onto Ribbit Farm Lane. Turn left onto Croaking Drive. The road will fork...veer right onto the street with no sign. The school is behind a realtor's office with a 6" sign marking the one-way drive to the parking lot. Isn't that ridiculous?!?! A person like me cannot be expected to live under these conditions!
Anyway, this delightful contraption will hopefully keep me from wandering aimlessly through cow pastures and scary inner city streets where I don't belong (with my 5 year old whining from the back seat, "Are we lost again, Mom?")
There are a few features I'd like to add, however. Or add them to Mapquest.com for that matter. Manufacturer's take note.
--I would like the option to choose the route with the least stops. If I have a baby that I would like to sleep, I want as few stop signs and intersections as possible when getting to my destination. I don't care if it takes me 50 miles out of my way...map it!
--I would like to choose the route with the most visible farm/wild animals en route. Or other interesting sights to entertain the restless troops behind me.
--I would like to be able to choose a route that under no circumstances takes me past certain inviting signs, that may make children in the back whine and beg to stop (like McDonalds or Sesame Place).
--I would like to be able to ask for locations based on the amenity I am looking for...like where can I find a drive through donut shop or please take me to a store that sells mild sedatives without a prescription or a place that will safely entertain a 2 and 5 year old...preferably with people hired to take care of them for me. I don't know the name of the place...just take me there!
I'm sure I'll think of more options I'd like later. This is just a start...off the top of my head. Any you would like to add?
I:
#1: Have no sense of direction. I may as well be driving around with a bag over my head. I don't recognize landmarks, don't remember street names, I can't follow the North Star, nothing. Hopeless.
#2: I have lived in too many freakin' places. If I could just STAY IN ONE PLACE for a while, perhaps I could "fake it" when it came to knowing how to get places. But instead, my brain is one big jumble of maps...I know how to get to the Kroger in Montgomery OH, the mall in Dayton, the library in Yorba Linda, the zoo in Louisville, the Farmer's market here in suburbia PA...you see how it goes? Not enough brain cells to remember all the places...so I remember not so much.
#3: The east coast is frickin' CRAZY when it comes to street names. In Ohio, everything is laid out in a grid. Unless you are in the middle of nowhere. But that's just where Jeff grew up. In Ohio where I grew up, if you come to an intersection and turn 90 degrees...you have just turned onto another street. Not so, here in the great state of PA. I know I've said it before, but as an example here are the directions to Andrew's school (street names changed to protect the innocent). Turn left onto Frogtown-Toadtown Rd. At the first light, turn left onto Frogtown-Toadtown Rd. Go through 2 lights. At the 2nd light, turn onto Ribbit Farm Lane. At the first light, turn left onto Ribbit Farm Lane. Turn left onto Croaking Drive. The road will fork...veer right onto the street with no sign. The school is behind a realtor's office with a 6" sign marking the one-way drive to the parking lot. Isn't that ridiculous?!?! A person like me cannot be expected to live under these conditions!
Anyway, this delightful contraption will hopefully keep me from wandering aimlessly through cow pastures and scary inner city streets where I don't belong (with my 5 year old whining from the back seat, "Are we lost again, Mom?")
There are a few features I'd like to add, however. Or add them to Mapquest.com for that matter. Manufacturer's take note.
--I would like the option to choose the route with the least stops. If I have a baby that I would like to sleep, I want as few stop signs and intersections as possible when getting to my destination. I don't care if it takes me 50 miles out of my way...map it!
--I would like to choose the route with the most visible farm/wild animals en route. Or other interesting sights to entertain the restless troops behind me.
--I would like to be able to choose a route that under no circumstances takes me past certain inviting signs, that may make children in the back whine and beg to stop (like McDonalds or Sesame Place).
--I would like to be able to ask for locations based on the amenity I am looking for...like where can I find a drive through donut shop or please take me to a store that sells mild sedatives without a prescription or a place that will safely entertain a 2 and 5 year old...preferably with people hired to take care of them for me. I don't know the name of the place...just take me there!
I'm sure I'll think of more options I'd like later. This is just a start...off the top of my head. Any you would like to add?
Friday, January 09, 2009
9 months (and a lot about breastfeeding...)
Michael is 9 months today. NINE MONTHS. Crap. He's growing up fast. Too fast.
He is still breastfeeding. Every 3 hours during the day. No signs of stopping. When I've tried to give him a bottle, he acts as though I am trying to pour Drano down his throat. He is so furious and insulted, that we haven't tried it very frequently. This is the child who was not thriving on my milk at one month old. Formula quite possibly saved his brain...and now he is rejecting it. Warm sweet milk delivered out of a warm breast...or NO MILK AT ALL! Little tyrant.
I weaned Andrew cold turkey at 9 months...I got my period back and I was so FREAKED out about getting pregnant that I wanted to go on full strength birth control IMMEDIATELY. Great reasoning.
Lily kind of hated the whole breast-feeding thing. By 7 months she was already preferring formula in a bottle, and at 8 months I threw in the towel and completely weaned her. Ironically, if she had liked nursing as much as Michael does...there probably wouldn't BE a Michael. I guess some things are meant to be.
I am surprisingly not peeved at this situation. Because I can't/don't pump, I am completely tethered to this child. Usually by this stage in a child's life I am literally itching with restlessness...I MUST BE FREE! But I don't feel that at all this time around...perhaps (I'm sure) because he is my last. And perhaps I appreciate it more because for a brief few weeks in May I was certain that I would not be able to nourish him this way...what a surprise to get to after all.
I feel so blessed to have breastfed my babies. I know not everyone enjoys it or can do it or whatever. I have a fond place in my heart for this experience. I am a big old quitter. I don't like to do things that don't come naturally to me, and I have no remorse for quitting things. Nursing did NOT come easily to me. Andrew did not take to it well, I had NO IDEA what I was doing, and the first 6 weeks were full of tears and pain and awkwardness and pain and uncertainties and pain and screaming obscenities. But I didn't quit. I don't know why...I'm not against bottle feeding. I didn't do it on my own...heaven knows Jeff was supportive (never once suggested giving him a bottle) and both my mother and mother-in-law were cheerleaders extraordinaire. But I am still very proud of myself that I didn't quit...I never gave up. It was a good way to start parenthood..because you can't quit that either, no matter how hard it gets.
I have never been good at nursing...in a way. I never did figure out the traditional cradle hold. Frickin' nursing retard, right here. I never leak. I never get engorged. I have never once felt let-down. I think I've pumped 3 ounces total out of three kids nursing.
But I've gotten a inexplicable and overwhelming satisfaction from it. To me, there was nothing like knowing I was providing everything my baby needed. And I selfishly like the attachment...I know deep down the baby is looking for me because I am the milk-wagon...but I can pretend that he likes me the most just because I'm so cool. :) I really love the middle of the night when it is dark and cold and that baby just snuggles up and is satisfied. I love feeling them go from super tense and angry to a mush of milk drunk baby. I love really quiet nights when I can literally hear the milk slosh in their belly as they drink. I love the gulping. And the little hand reaching up and playing with my hair and patting my neck. I love when they are really small and drink and drink and when they fall asleep they let go of the latch and rest their little head on the breast like a warm pillow. I love when they talk to you in the middle of a meal, and the milk runs out of their mouth. Or they let go, flashing your breast to all in the room, give you a stellar smile, and then grab it back greedily as if someone took it from them in the first place. Oh! And when someone else is holding them, and they see you, and they do that nervous laughter/threatening to cry until the breast is actually in their mouth...I love that.
You can't take pictures of nursing. Really, that would just be weird and quite possibly scar your child as they get older. Could you imagine? Here's you at the hospital, here's you in your swing, here's you sleeping on your mom's boob. YIKES. I guess you just have to hold the memories in your head and heart...which is why when I nurse in public I often see older women grin and sigh wistfully as they glance at me.
I think I'm going to be really really sad when this stage is over. But I feel blessed to have gotten to do it at all. I know that breastfeeding is supposed to be good for the baby...but I think I got quite a bit of benefit also.
He is still breastfeeding. Every 3 hours during the day. No signs of stopping. When I've tried to give him a bottle, he acts as though I am trying to pour Drano down his throat. He is so furious and insulted, that we haven't tried it very frequently. This is the child who was not thriving on my milk at one month old. Formula quite possibly saved his brain...and now he is rejecting it. Warm sweet milk delivered out of a warm breast...or NO MILK AT ALL! Little tyrant.
I weaned Andrew cold turkey at 9 months...I got my period back and I was so FREAKED out about getting pregnant that I wanted to go on full strength birth control IMMEDIATELY. Great reasoning.
Lily kind of hated the whole breast-feeding thing. By 7 months she was already preferring formula in a bottle, and at 8 months I threw in the towel and completely weaned her. Ironically, if she had liked nursing as much as Michael does...there probably wouldn't BE a Michael. I guess some things are meant to be.
I am surprisingly not peeved at this situation. Because I can't/don't pump, I am completely tethered to this child. Usually by this stage in a child's life I am literally itching with restlessness...I MUST BE FREE! But I don't feel that at all this time around...perhaps (I'm sure) because he is my last. And perhaps I appreciate it more because for a brief few weeks in May I was certain that I would not be able to nourish him this way...what a surprise to get to after all.
I feel so blessed to have breastfed my babies. I know not everyone enjoys it or can do it or whatever. I have a fond place in my heart for this experience. I am a big old quitter. I don't like to do things that don't come naturally to me, and I have no remorse for quitting things. Nursing did NOT come easily to me. Andrew did not take to it well, I had NO IDEA what I was doing, and the first 6 weeks were full of tears and pain and awkwardness and pain and uncertainties and pain and screaming obscenities. But I didn't quit. I don't know why...I'm not against bottle feeding. I didn't do it on my own...heaven knows Jeff was supportive (never once suggested giving him a bottle) and both my mother and mother-in-law were cheerleaders extraordinaire. But I am still very proud of myself that I didn't quit...I never gave up. It was a good way to start parenthood..because you can't quit that either, no matter how hard it gets.
I have never been good at nursing...in a way. I never did figure out the traditional cradle hold. Frickin' nursing retard, right here. I never leak. I never get engorged. I have never once felt let-down. I think I've pumped 3 ounces total out of three kids nursing.
But I've gotten a inexplicable and overwhelming satisfaction from it. To me, there was nothing like knowing I was providing everything my baby needed. And I selfishly like the attachment...I know deep down the baby is looking for me because I am the milk-wagon...but I can pretend that he likes me the most just because I'm so cool. :) I really love the middle of the night when it is dark and cold and that baby just snuggles up and is satisfied. I love feeling them go from super tense and angry to a mush of milk drunk baby. I love really quiet nights when I can literally hear the milk slosh in their belly as they drink. I love the gulping. And the little hand reaching up and playing with my hair and patting my neck. I love when they are really small and drink and drink and when they fall asleep they let go of the latch and rest their little head on the breast like a warm pillow. I love when they talk to you in the middle of a meal, and the milk runs out of their mouth. Or they let go, flashing your breast to all in the room, give you a stellar smile, and then grab it back greedily as if someone took it from them in the first place. Oh! And when someone else is holding them, and they see you, and they do that nervous laughter/threatening to cry until the breast is actually in their mouth...I love that.
You can't take pictures of nursing. Really, that would just be weird and quite possibly scar your child as they get older. Could you imagine? Here's you at the hospital, here's you in your swing, here's you sleeping on your mom's boob. YIKES. I guess you just have to hold the memories in your head and heart...which is why when I nurse in public I often see older women grin and sigh wistfully as they glance at me.
I think I'm going to be really really sad when this stage is over. But I feel blessed to have gotten to do it at all. I know that breastfeeding is supposed to be good for the baby...but I think I got quite a bit of benefit also.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
3 AM
Michael still gets up once a night to eat. It was between 4 and 5 for a long time. And it has creeped back to between 3 and 4. I know he doesn't need it. I KNOW. But nursing makes me lazy. I can do one of two things when he cries at night. A) Listen to him cry for an hour. Lie in bed sweating and thrashing (have I ever mentioned that listening to my babies cry makes me have hot flashes?). Know that I'll be up in less than 2 hours with the other children. -OR- B) Stumble into his room half asleep, slump in the rocker while he slurps away, lie him back down full and happy, and stumble back into my bed...total time awake?...maybe 15 minutes.
SO...since sleep is precious, and those 15 minutes are a really nice potty break anyway...we aren't doing cry it out. It's just more hassle right now. Once we aren't nursing...boy howdy. Mommy is going to get mean in a heartbeat.
Anyway, I have about 15 minutes each night to think while Michael fills his belly. It's not enough time to get my eyes adjusted to read (which is what I did when he was really little). So I just think. And a lot of times I get ideas for this blog. Which can be good, or really bad. Like that last marriage post. That was TOTALLY a 3 AM post. Kind of out of place on this blog, rambling, no point. Usually, when I get a great idea at 3 AM, it starts as an analogy or a metaphor. Like the marriage thing started when I was rocking and nursing and I thought, "Marriage is work like being a crossing guard is work." At 3 AM, I am struck by my brilliance. How has no one thought of this metaphor in the past? How can I not write a post about it? Brilliant (Note Sarcasm). Now, usually, I just go back to sleep and when I wake up I vaguely remember that I was thinking of a blog entry, but I can't quite remember what it was. This is the BETTER option. On a few rare occasions, I jot down a note. Then when I wake up at 5:30, I usually forget the note. By the time I find it, I realize it was a lame idea and leave it. But very very occasionally, I see the note first thing in the morning. And I come down and write the blog right away.
And THAT, my friends, is how we end up with strange pointless posts like the marriage post a few days ago.
I have no excuse for the lame and whiny posts that usually grace this URL.
Stay tuned..lame posts about Andrew getting tubes, breastfeeding, and Lily quirks to come! I promise I didn't think of them at 3 AM!
SO...since sleep is precious, and those 15 minutes are a really nice potty break anyway...we aren't doing cry it out. It's just more hassle right now. Once we aren't nursing...boy howdy. Mommy is going to get mean in a heartbeat.
Anyway, I have about 15 minutes each night to think while Michael fills his belly. It's not enough time to get my eyes adjusted to read (which is what I did when he was really little). So I just think. And a lot of times I get ideas for this blog. Which can be good, or really bad. Like that last marriage post. That was TOTALLY a 3 AM post. Kind of out of place on this blog, rambling, no point. Usually, when I get a great idea at 3 AM, it starts as an analogy or a metaphor. Like the marriage thing started when I was rocking and nursing and I thought, "Marriage is work like being a crossing guard is work." At 3 AM, I am struck by my brilliance. How has no one thought of this metaphor in the past? How can I not write a post about it? Brilliant (Note Sarcasm). Now, usually, I just go back to sleep and when I wake up I vaguely remember that I was thinking of a blog entry, but I can't quite remember what it was. This is the BETTER option. On a few rare occasions, I jot down a note. Then when I wake up at 5:30, I usually forget the note. By the time I find it, I realize it was a lame idea and leave it. But very very occasionally, I see the note first thing in the morning. And I come down and write the blog right away.
And THAT, my friends, is how we end up with strange pointless posts like the marriage post a few days ago.
I have no excuse for the lame and whiny posts that usually grace this URL.
Stay tuned..lame posts about Andrew getting tubes, breastfeeding, and Lily quirks to come! I promise I didn't think of them at 3 AM!
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
The reason to become a mother
Sometimes, you get spontaneous songs like the one below. Lily sang it to me this morning at breakfast, out of the blue, and I asked her to repeat it tonight once Jeff got home.
In case you aren't fluent in "Toddlereze", she is singing, "I love my mommy" and at the end she says, "Thank you everybody."
Effort...not work
Let me first distract you with cute pictures of the kids:
This house tastes so good! (Notice tackling in the background)
Oh, sweet heavens...this is the cutest baby in the universe. No, don't tell me otherwise. I'm allowed to be biased.
Now on to our regularly scheduled blogging...
Cuddles?
This house tastes so good! (Notice tackling in the background)
Oh, sweet heavens...this is the cutest baby in the universe. No, don't tell me otherwise. I'm allowed to be biased.
Now on to our regularly scheduled blogging...
I think most of you who read this blog of mine are married. And so you may find this post totally off base, or irrelevant, or whatever. I think I'm writing this down just because I want to (duh!) and perhaps to have down for when my kids want to (or don't want to) get married some day.
I am married to Jeff. I talk about him ever so infrequently on this little blog. He reads it. Hi, Jeff! I met Jeff when I was 18 years old. I married him when I was 22 (yes, Jeff, I was 2 weeks away from being 22. IT COUNTS!). I am now 31 (although I just had to do some mental math to figure it out...sad). I am no expert on marriage and relationships. This is pretty much the only one I've had. I had "boyfriends" before him, but I'd never been in love before, never had my heart broken, etc etc. Boring. (Yes, Jeff, I know you prefer "Stable" to boring).
I hear all the time how marriage is "work". "Work work work...that's all my marriage is." I don't like this wording. When I think of work, I think of something that is really difficult...like, I don't know, off the top of my head, chopping down a tree. Not that I've ever done that...but it looks like a lot of work. Or, say, being a blacksmith. Not that anyone does that anymore. Boy, this isn't going well.
I guess marriage is work...but my marriage seems to be work like being a crossing guard is work. You have to be constantly alert and aware of dangers, but you're not exactly exerting any energy. Yes, that's exactly what marriage is to me. I think Jeff and I put a lot of EFFORT into our marriage, but I don't feel like it's WORK to do it.
Like, I am constantly aware of the things that Jeff contributes to our family. I make a conscious EFFORT to thank him for the work he does...both at home and at his job. I praise him for being a good father and husband. I talk him up in front of the kids. And even though I am always thinking about how to slip it in, I really believe it. I think that by making that EFFORT to point out his positives, I am better at noticing and appreciating them...rather than focusing on the negatives.
Jeff is not so good about dishing out the compliments, but to be fair, I don't receive compliments very well. I know he makes an EFFORT to take care of little things for me, just to show me that he cares and is thinking of me. Like unlocking the door to the garage. He doesn't even park in the garage, but every morning he unlocks this door so I don't lock myself out when I take out the garbage or put the kids in the car. Not a big deal...but it send the message that I am a priority in his thoughts. Or maybe he just doesn't want to get a frantic call while he is at work that I have locked our 3 children alone in the house. Whatever...I choose to believe the former. He is better at forcing me to stop and make US a priority...like the one morning we were rushing around, and Jeff stopped me to get a kiss. When I pecked him on the lips and moved to continue rushing around, he wouldn't let me go and said, "Nuh-uh. You don't get to go until we REALLY kiss." Which we both needed to stop and reconnect on that particularly rushed morning. I could do with a little less groping...but I know his heart is in the right place (he is thinking with his heart, right? it couldn't possibly be any other part of him, right?)
Anyway, I am not trying to pretend that I know how to do this marriage thing any better than anyone else. We don't have certain stressors in our life that other people do, like job worries or money or illness. Jeff is particularly easy to live with. We both had great examples in our parents' marriages. Etc etc. I really don't know what I'm doing. But it sure doesn't feel like WORK...whatever it is I'm doing. Perhaps when people say their marriage takes work, they don't mean it ALWAYS feels like work...maybe it just varies depending on what is going on in your life at the time. Perhaps Jeff is reading this right now thinking, "DAMN, she is off base. I am working my tail off to keep this relationship running smoothly." Because probably just one half of the relationship shouldn't write a know-it-all essay like this. I sure hope that in 10 more years our marriage doesn't fall apart and it becomes inherently obvious that I should have been working and not just putting forth an effort.
I don't know what the point of this is. Just rambling. I just love being married...love it. I am definitely the marrying type. And I don't want unmarried people to be scared off of marriage just because everyone says, "Oh, marriage. It is a lot of WORK."
Whatever...I think I'm done spouting nonsense for one day. Go back and look at my cute babies. They make a heck of a lot more sense. ;)
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Giselle's New Year's Tip of the Day
Tip: When choosing a New Year's Resolution, try to think of how it will play out for the entire year.
Example: If you were to choose to, say, walk your dog every day for the new year...perhaps consider that some days it may be icy on the sidewalk and you may fall on your ass.
Just consider.
Example: If you were to choose to, say, walk your dog every day for the new year...perhaps consider that some days it may be icy on the sidewalk and you may fall on your ass.
Just consider.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Sheep and wolves
Before I begin, let me assure you that the last post was NOT meant to advise you to personally have 3 children. I could write a much longer post about why it is really smart and satisfying to stop with one or two children. I will not be held responsible for future 3rd children in your families ;)
Okay, so on to my post for today.
I've been thinking about all the friends I have on the computer. Versus the friends I have in "real" life. Let me preface this whole post by saying I am eternally grateful to all of these friends...regardless of whether I know you in person or not. Much of the monotony of my days is tempered by these relationships.
I really enjoy the company of other mothers. Because so often I watch my child doing something that seems totally socially unacceptable (for an example, let's say I listen to my child interject the word "eyeball" into every sentence and then laugh uncontrollably) only to go to a social function with OTHER mothers and their kiddos...and I hear them complain about their child doing the same thing (only it is the word underwear instead). Suddenly, I am relieved of this worry that my child has mild brain damage and instead shrug it off as a normal, age-appropriate quirk.
And now I have other mothers as friends...on the Internet. This is FANTASTIC! Even more people to bounce ideas off on.
Except for one thing. See, in a playgroup, there are usually 3-5 other mothers. So you bring up a topic, and maybe one person can't relate, and 2 others TOTALLY relate. (Geez, I am embarrassed to admit that I hide my sweets from my husband so he thinks I am eating healthy when I'm not. What? You do it too? Awesome, I'm totally normal. And we have so much in common! Be my friend!). This makes you feel like you have some comrades in the battlefield of life, and it is fun to find a few others who share your quirks. On the Internet, I will often read a blog of another mother and think, "Wow. That is really cool. This person thinks just like me...I can so relate to this post. I should tell her so we can be friends and comrades." So I comment to let that person know that we are kindred spirits and she is not alone in her quirks.
And then I see that there are 145 other comments. There are usually 5 anonymous comments saying, "You are a freakin' freak who should have your freakin' children taken away because you are a freakin' freak. And you have to listen to my superior and supremely rude comment because you choose to have a public blog, but I'm too chicken to actually post my name, so I must realize deep down that I am not socially acceptable. Which makes ME the freak." But then there are 140 of them are people saying, "Wow. How cool. I totally can relate to this post. We must be kindred spirits."
Which kind of makes me feel weird. Like I am so unoriginal and generic that 140 other people are doing and thinking the same exact thing? Suddenly I don't feel so much like I have comrades in life as I am a sheep in a herd bleating away in the din of other sheep.
But I still read the blogs. Because, heck, I'd rather be a sheep in a herd than alone on the mountain with nothing but wolves for company (that would be you, anonymous commenters).
Okay, so on to my post for today.
I've been thinking about all the friends I have on the computer. Versus the friends I have in "real" life. Let me preface this whole post by saying I am eternally grateful to all of these friends...regardless of whether I know you in person or not. Much of the monotony of my days is tempered by these relationships.
I really enjoy the company of other mothers. Because so often I watch my child doing something that seems totally socially unacceptable (for an example, let's say I listen to my child interject the word "eyeball" into every sentence and then laugh uncontrollably) only to go to a social function with OTHER mothers and their kiddos...and I hear them complain about their child doing the same thing (only it is the word underwear instead). Suddenly, I am relieved of this worry that my child has mild brain damage and instead shrug it off as a normal, age-appropriate quirk.
And now I have other mothers as friends...on the Internet. This is FANTASTIC! Even more people to bounce ideas off on.
Except for one thing. See, in a playgroup, there are usually 3-5 other mothers. So you bring up a topic, and maybe one person can't relate, and 2 others TOTALLY relate. (Geez, I am embarrassed to admit that I hide my sweets from my husband so he thinks I am eating healthy when I'm not. What? You do it too? Awesome, I'm totally normal. And we have so much in common! Be my friend!). This makes you feel like you have some comrades in the battlefield of life, and it is fun to find a few others who share your quirks. On the Internet, I will often read a blog of another mother and think, "Wow. That is really cool. This person thinks just like me...I can so relate to this post. I should tell her so we can be friends and comrades." So I comment to let that person know that we are kindred spirits and she is not alone in her quirks.
And then I see that there are 145 other comments. There are usually 5 anonymous comments saying, "You are a freakin' freak who should have your freakin' children taken away because you are a freakin' freak. And you have to listen to my superior and supremely rude comment because you choose to have a public blog, but I'm too chicken to actually post my name, so I must realize deep down that I am not socially acceptable. Which makes ME the freak." But then there are 140 of them are people saying, "Wow. How cool. I totally can relate to this post. We must be kindred spirits."
Which kind of makes me feel weird. Like I am so unoriginal and generic that 140 other people are doing and thinking the same exact thing? Suddenly I don't feel so much like I have comrades in life as I am a sheep in a herd bleating away in the din of other sheep.
But I still read the blogs. Because, heck, I'd rather be a sheep in a herd than alone on the mountain with nothing but wolves for company (that would be you, anonymous commenters).
Saturday, January 03, 2009
The joy of 3
Do you ever wonder if there is a perfect number? A perfect number of kids, that is? I think perhaps there is...but it can be different for different people. Which can pose a problem in a marriage...you know, if your perfect number isn't the same. And, of course, what you THINK is your perfect number might not actually end up being correct...which sucks if you've come to an agreement with your spouse, and then it doesn't feel right. Or, heaven forbid, you have another child and then realize that the perfect number is your number minus one.
I know that one of my greatest joys with having children is watching them together. Their growing relationship is so fun (and alternately irritating) to watch. This Christmas break, it was so satisfying to see them entertaining each other...even if it was to fight. When nothing else is going on, they have each other. And hopefully they always will.
Here's one of the sweetest shots I have of the older kids...it's at the train display at Reading Terminal Market. I love the size difference...
And more of that "loving" relationship.
Are they playing with the doll? I think it looks like Lily is beating Andrew with it...and he is loving every second of it.
Oh, wait, here's one of Michael and Lily smiling at the camera. This is the best on cue smile I've gotten from Lily...ever.
Lily is ecstatic to have Mikey in the house with her. She LOVES it...as does he.
I know that one of my greatest joys with having children is watching them together. Their growing relationship is so fun (and alternately irritating) to watch. This Christmas break, it was so satisfying to see them entertaining each other...even if it was to fight. When nothing else is going on, they have each other. And hopefully they always will.
Here's one of the sweetest shots I have of the older kids...it's at the train display at Reading Terminal Market. I love the size difference...
And more of that "loving" relationship.
Are they playing with the doll? I think it looks like Lily is beating Andrew with it...and he is loving every second of it.
Oh, wait, here's one of Michael and Lily smiling at the camera. This is the best on cue smile I've gotten from Lily...ever.
Lily is ecstatic to have Mikey in the house with her. She LOVES it...as does he.
I think that Jeff was fairly certain that "2" kids was his perfect number. And judging from the pictures above, you may think it is my perfect number. But don't allow my logistical difficulties in getting 3 children into one picture fool you.
I am really feeling like 3 is my number. I love that we are planning future vacations and going on outings without feeling like it is too huge of a production. I love that my kids have multiple siblings to wage war against and cuddle up with. I feel such satisfaction with my little family. I know it helps that I got the kids that I got...they are pretty wonderful.
And I think Jeff is getting on board also. He has realized that I probably would have wanted 3 eventually. And that we would just be starting trying to get pregnant right now. And how wonderful it is that instead of starting over with a baby right now, we have 3 kids all within a range that makes future vacation/activity planning really fun. And of course, Mikey is finally in the age that Jeff starts to really enjoy. I hear them giggling together a lot. It helps change your perfect number when you fall in love.
I guess I'm just saying that I'm happy. I wasn't in this place a year ago...and heaven knows that once Michael starts walking (in the direct opposite direction of Lily), I may put this contentedness on hold for a while. But for today...for now...I'm just where I want to be.
And here's a video of the 3 stooges...sorry about the poor lighting. Notice Michael's face of pure JOY whenever one of his siblings talks to him or plays with him. Notice my delicate flower trying to take down both of her brothers. And notice Andrew being the ultimate big brother...gently playing with both of them. My three. The perfect number.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Pictures, anyone?
Andrew rolling out the dough. He was awesome and patient. It made me feel guilty that I never bake with him. Until I burned the cookies and had to clean up the mess. Then I remembered...
He also loved icing them and covering the table...I mean the cookies with sprinkles.
Lily "decorates" her cookies. Um, I don't see any finished products on the plate, do you?
Chad teaching Andrew how to text message. Will he teach me next?
Michael is serious about rolling over.
Andrew is hiding his Christmas cookie consumption from Lily. I about died laughing when I saw this.
5 presents. That's all I bought for the kids. And 3 of them weren't even under the tree. I wonder where all of these came from?
Michael enjoys the wrapping paper...Mommy does too, because it doesn't desolve very quickly in that slobbery mouth!
Lily peeking out of her house that Santa brought.
Mikey playing with his new toy that Santa brought.
Mommy...lookin' good...helping Lily open her Little People castle from G & G
Can you tell we dragged her out of bed to open gifts? A bit dazed and confused.
Inside the house.
Michael enjoys his toy so much, he just can't look up and smile. Nor can he stand unassisted yet.
Lily in the cold garage playing with her gift from Memere and Pepere.
Andrew with his favorite gift!
Andrew tearing through his gifts like a hurricane.
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