In an effort to save up all the kids' favorite videos for an upcoming road trip, I've resorted to playing old Baby Einstein videos in the car. They are definitely too old to be entertained by puppets and classical music, but I figured that it was better than nothing. Yesterday I popped "Baby Neptune" in the DVD player and the strangest thing happened. My three kids, who usually fight non-stop in the car no matter what movie I play, actually had a running dialogue amongst themselves that entertained ALL of us. It went something like this:
Emily: "Oh there is a dolphin!"
Peter: "No, that's not a dolphin, that's an Orca Whale."
Emily: "Oh, Orca Whale, okay."
Michael: "What's that Peter?"
Peter: "That's a submarine."
Michael: [singing] "We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine ..."
I drove on, laughing to myself and wondering who taught Peter about Orca Whales and submarines and who taught Michael the words to a Beatles song. And, more importantly, wondering why I didn't think to create these Baby Einstein videos myself. Every mom needs them in her arsenal, especially Baby Neptune, it seems. A "movie" that can entertain babies of all ages AND promote conversation and dialogue among toddlers and preschoolers is a must have. Julie Aigner-Clark, you are my hero!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Age Before Beauty
I'm not sure when it happened. That fateful day when I started caring so much about trying to look younger. The thing is, I've always looked older than my actual age. It was once a great thing ... I had no problem pretending to be 16 when I was only 12, 18 when I was only 13 or 21 when I was only 17. In fact, I remember hanging out with some older kids on a ski trip when I was about 12 or 13 years old ... I had no problem pretending to be 16, until one of the kids fell and the others asked me to drive him to the hospital.
But, in my 20s, I began to realize that this "looking older" thing wasn't really that much fun anymore. I must have been about 24 years old when I met a man on an airplane who asked me what I did for a living. After explaining that I was in law school, he said "oh, is law going to be your second career?" I shudder to think how old he actually thought I was. Needless to say, I ordered a stiff drink and ignored him the rest of the flight.
As I entered my 30s and began having kids, I've had more and more encounters with people thinking I am older, much older, than I actually am. And, it is no fun at all. For example, I have been taking some classes at my gym with my husband's 17-year-old niece over the past few weeks and three, THREE, different women have come up to me and asked me if she's my daughter! Do I seriously look old enough to have a 17-year-old daughter? Oh my. This is not good. Thankfully, she's beautiful, so at least people think I have a beautiful 17-year-old daughter. But, as I've said, it's age before beauty for me these days.
So, until I find the fountain of youth and can turn back the clock to my rightful age of 35, I think I am going to start telling people that I'm 50 years old ... I mean, I look pretty damn good for 50, right?
But, in my 20s, I began to realize that this "looking older" thing wasn't really that much fun anymore. I must have been about 24 years old when I met a man on an airplane who asked me what I did for a living. After explaining that I was in law school, he said "oh, is law going to be your second career?" I shudder to think how old he actually thought I was. Needless to say, I ordered a stiff drink and ignored him the rest of the flight.
As I entered my 30s and began having kids, I've had more and more encounters with people thinking I am older, much older, than I actually am. And, it is no fun at all. For example, I have been taking some classes at my gym with my husband's 17-year-old niece over the past few weeks and three, THREE, different women have come up to me and asked me if she's my daughter! Do I seriously look old enough to have a 17-year-old daughter? Oh my. This is not good. Thankfully, she's beautiful, so at least people think I have a beautiful 17-year-old daughter. But, as I've said, it's age before beauty for me these days.
So, until I find the fountain of youth and can turn back the clock to my rightful age of 35, I think I am going to start telling people that I'm 50 years old ... I mean, I look pretty damn good for 50, right?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Trickery
Sure, it's normal for young kids to ask "why" virtually all of the time, but, with my son Michael, he actually expects a logical answer to every "why" question that he asks. Over the past year, I've learned that if I say "no, because [some logical reason]" instead of just plain old "no," then I actually have a chance of avoiding a million and one whinny "whys". Here are some examples:
Michael: "Mommy can I have more crackers?"
Me: "No, because they're all gone."
Michael: "Mommy, can I go over to that [dangerous] swing set [overlooking a rocky ledge]?"
Me: "No, because I think a really mean dog lives over there."
Michael: "Mommy, can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
Me: "No, because sometimes there are spiders in my bed."
Well, I'm in a bit of a bind because he is starting to catch on to me. Now when I say that we're all out of some food item that he wants, he asks to see the empty wrapper or container. He wants proof. And, he's only three-years-old. Not good.
I guess I need to think of some new tricks, the veracity of which can't be proven one way or the other. Or, perhaps, just keep some empty wrappers on hand, learn how to bark like a vicious dog and get some scary-looking plastic spiders for my bed.
Why, you might ask, didn't I just stick with plain old "no means no"? It certainly worked for my parents, along with "do as I say, not as I do," "because I said so," "we're not the so-and-so family so their rules don't apply here," and other familiar old-school parenting quotes. I guess I thought that maybe I was just a little bit smarter - using reason and diversion instead of authority and intimidation - but I'm not so sure now. Ahhh, back to the drawing board, I guess!
Michael: "Mommy can I have more crackers?"
Me: "No, because they're all gone."
Michael: "Mommy, can I go over to that [dangerous] swing set [overlooking a rocky ledge]?"
Me: "No, because I think a really mean dog lives over there."
Michael: "Mommy, can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
Me: "No, because sometimes there are spiders in my bed."
Well, I'm in a bit of a bind because he is starting to catch on to me. Now when I say that we're all out of some food item that he wants, he asks to see the empty wrapper or container. He wants proof. And, he's only three-years-old. Not good.
I guess I need to think of some new tricks, the veracity of which can't be proven one way or the other. Or, perhaps, just keep some empty wrappers on hand, learn how to bark like a vicious dog and get some scary-looking plastic spiders for my bed.
Why, you might ask, didn't I just stick with plain old "no means no"? It certainly worked for my parents, along with "do as I say, not as I do," "because I said so," "we're not the so-and-so family so their rules don't apply here," and other familiar old-school parenting quotes. I guess I thought that maybe I was just a little bit smarter - using reason and diversion instead of authority and intimidation - but I'm not so sure now. Ahhh, back to the drawing board, I guess!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Imprinting ...
A term typically used to describe the manner in which a young animal learns and mimics the characteristics of its parent.
Or, in the case of my family, the manner in which a child learns and mimics the characteristics of pets and siblings ... completely ignoring the characteristics of their parents.
This bizarre form of imprinting really began with my son Peter. He apparently got a mixed message somewhere during his first year of life and thought that our dog was his parent. No, I didn't leave the dog to babysit him like in Peter Pan, so I have no idea how it happened. But, before I knew it, he was crawling out the dog door, trying to drink from the dog bowl, chewing on the dog toys, and generally acting more like a puppy than a little boy. It has, of course, subsided a bit ... but he definitely still has some "puppy" in him ... a personality trait that I've grown to love and that is truly as cute as it is destructive and wild.
I thought I was finished with the whole imprinting thing ... that is, until Sunday afternoon. My daughter has always had both a strong attachment to Wrigley and a strong desire to do everything that the boys do. This always seemed relatively cute and normal until I saw her mimic the bathroom habits of both the dog and the boys simultaneously. Can you even begin to imagine where I am going with this? Probably not.
On Sunday afternoon, we set up a water slide for the kids in the backyard. Before I changed the boys into their suits, I took them over to the "pee tree" in the yard ... you see, trying to get them to actually pee in the toilet is a HUGE challenge, but getting them to pee on the "pee tree" is a piece of cake, so I take the easy, albeit unconventional, route from time to time. Hopefully, they will end up being lumberjacks or something outdoorsy so that my unsophisticated potty training methods don't interfere with their future careers!
Anyway, back to Emily. She refused to wear a bathing suit or a swim diaper, so I let her play in the water naked. (Another fine parenting technique, I know.) All was fine until she wandered away from the water slide and over to the "pee tree" and put her hands against it, leaning forward to pee like a boy. I tried to explain that she could not stand there and pee like that, but she gave me her usual "stop it mommy, I've had it" so I let her be ... thinking that if she actually peed that I'd just hose off her legs. I looked back at the boys on the slide for a minute and then glanced back at Emily standing against the "pee tree" ... and you'll never guess what I saw ... a poop coming out!
Oh my God, my beautiful little girl is apparently 1/2 dog and 1/2 boy ... where did I go wrong?!? Is it too late to un-imprint her? I am tempted to buy her tons of frilly underwear and a beautiful little potty seat and to never, ever let her play in the backyard again. But something tells me that if she wants to be 1/2 dog and 1/2 boy, well then that is exactly what she is going to be!
Or, in the case of my family, the manner in which a child learns and mimics the characteristics of pets and siblings ... completely ignoring the characteristics of their parents.
This bizarre form of imprinting really began with my son Peter. He apparently got a mixed message somewhere during his first year of life and thought that our dog was his parent. No, I didn't leave the dog to babysit him like in Peter Pan, so I have no idea how it happened. But, before I knew it, he was crawling out the dog door, trying to drink from the dog bowl, chewing on the dog toys, and generally acting more like a puppy than a little boy. It has, of course, subsided a bit ... but he definitely still has some "puppy" in him ... a personality trait that I've grown to love and that is truly as cute as it is destructive and wild.
I thought I was finished with the whole imprinting thing ... that is, until Sunday afternoon. My daughter has always had both a strong attachment to Wrigley and a strong desire to do everything that the boys do. This always seemed relatively cute and normal until I saw her mimic the bathroom habits of both the dog and the boys simultaneously. Can you even begin to imagine where I am going with this? Probably not.
On Sunday afternoon, we set up a water slide for the kids in the backyard. Before I changed the boys into their suits, I took them over to the "pee tree" in the yard ... you see, trying to get them to actually pee in the toilet is a HUGE challenge, but getting them to pee on the "pee tree" is a piece of cake, so I take the easy, albeit unconventional, route from time to time. Hopefully, they will end up being lumberjacks or something outdoorsy so that my unsophisticated potty training methods don't interfere with their future careers!
Anyway, back to Emily. She refused to wear a bathing suit or a swim diaper, so I let her play in the water naked. (Another fine parenting technique, I know.) All was fine until she wandered away from the water slide and over to the "pee tree" and put her hands against it, leaning forward to pee like a boy. I tried to explain that she could not stand there and pee like that, but she gave me her usual "stop it mommy, I've had it" so I let her be ... thinking that if she actually peed that I'd just hose off her legs. I looked back at the boys on the slide for a minute and then glanced back at Emily standing against the "pee tree" ... and you'll never guess what I saw ... a poop coming out!
Oh my God, my beautiful little girl is apparently 1/2 dog and 1/2 boy ... where did I go wrong?!? Is it too late to un-imprint her? I am tempted to buy her tons of frilly underwear and a beautiful little potty seat and to never, ever let her play in the backyard again. But something tells me that if she wants to be 1/2 dog and 1/2 boy, well then that is exactly what she is going to be!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Man's Best Friend
On Saturday, my husband's entire family came over to our house for a BBQ. We were all hanging out on the back patio, when the bugs really started to chomp away at us ... obviously realizing that summer is coming to an end and wanting to devour as much human flesh as possible in what little time is left. We do have a "bug zapper" in the backyard, so we plugged that in to try to minimize the blood-thirsty population. The problem is this: our dog is afraid of the "zap" sound that it makes. This is the same dog that is also afraid of flies, the slightest hint of thunder and was once afraid to climb a flight of stairs. Seriously, he had to literally be carried up the stairs. A picture of one such episode below (August 2005):
Anyway, as you may have guessed, Wrigley panicked and ran for cover inside at the sound of the first zap. From my perspective, this really isn't a big deal. He's a dog. He does not need to attend every single event with us. But, to my husband, an event is not really a family event without him.
At one point, I went inside to do some dishes and clean up a little. When I went back outside, the bug zapper was turned off and my husband and Wrigley were snuggled up together on a little love-seat-sized bench. Seriously? Wrigley's comfort and presence is more important than saving the rest of the family from the onslaught of millions of bugs trying to eat us alive? I know that a dog is man's best friend, but really!!
I missed getting a picture of the cute couple cuddled up together on the couch, but I did capture them doing a repeat performance inside later that night:
Anyway, as you may have guessed, Wrigley panicked and ran for cover inside at the sound of the first zap. From my perspective, this really isn't a big deal. He's a dog. He does not need to attend every single event with us. But, to my husband, an event is not really a family event without him.
At one point, I went inside to do some dishes and clean up a little. When I went back outside, the bug zapper was turned off and my husband and Wrigley were snuggled up together on a little love-seat-sized bench. Seriously? Wrigley's comfort and presence is more important than saving the rest of the family from the onslaught of millions of bugs trying to eat us alive? I know that a dog is man's best friend, but really!!
I missed getting a picture of the cute couple cuddled up together on the couch, but I did capture them doing a repeat performance inside later that night:
And, a few more pictures from the past of my man and his best friend.
I always joke with my husband that, if the house were on fire, he'd save Wrigley first. And, he always responds that, of course, he adores Wrigley because Wrigley is always so excited to see him. True, true. The kids and I are not going to jump up and down with overwhelming joy and excitement every time my husband walks in the room. So, he does have a point. And, I suppose that we will all have to find a way to live with and accept this "man's best friend" thing ... it's either that, or allow the two of them get their own place together!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Is It Legal?
Yesterday, I took the kids to Wendy's for dinner. Well, let me be more precise: I took the kids to the Wendy's drive-thru for dinner and was planning to let them eat in the car on the way home. Before I drove out of the parking lot, I asked Michael, my one-and-only-sort-of-potty-trained child if he had to go to the bathroom. He said no, as he always does (hence the "sort of"), but I knew it had been awhile and that he probably did have to go. There was no way I was taking all three kids inside Wendy's for a potty break, so I let him pee in a bush in the parking lot. As I was standing there trying to block him from sight, I wondered if it was actually legal to allow a three-year-old to pee in public? I had always assumed it was, but as a friend mentioned to me last weekend, there must be an age at which it becomes illegal. I began thinking of how I'd explain myself if a cop happened upon us ... but the answer was sitting there in the backseat all along. "I'm sorry officer, but I'd like to see you take 2 three-year-olds and a two-year-old into the Wendy's bathroom and help one of them go to the bathroom, while simultaneously making sure that the other two don't contract hepatitis." That would get me off the hook, right? Kind of goes hand-in-hand with my "Polite Society" post, doesn't it? I definitely think so!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
One Extreme to Another
Mondays are always hectic. I always seem to oversleep and scramble to assemble sippy cups still in the dishwasher, pull daycare sheets and blankets out of the dryer and get the kids up and out the door by 8am. So, any unforeseen obstacle on a Monday morning tends to really send me over the edge. This Monday morning [stop reading here if you are squeamish or in the middle of eating breakfast], I went to wake Emily and was immediately hit with that all too familiar stench: poop. Well, kids do sometimes poop in their diaper at night, which can be gross enough, but, you see, Emily decided to reach into her diaper and use her poop to finger paint all over her crib. With two kids in diapers, one kid who needs a lot of help on the potty and a dog, I am pretty much immune to poop, but this was a rather disgusting scene ... even for me.
And, so began my Monday morning. But, one thing I've noticed lately, is that if you spend your day with little kids, it can turn on a dime. One minute you are totally irked and annoyed and the next you are laughing out loud at something they do or say, almost forgetting the aforementioned irritation.
After giving Emily a bath, I did finally get all the kids out the door and in the car, heading to daycare. On the way there, I smelled a skunk and began talking to the kids about it. Up ahead, I saw a dead animal in the road, and said "Oh, look, that must be the skunk we smell." (Sure, I probably shouldn't be pointing out roadkill to my kids, but I was trying to keep them entertained.) As we passed the dead animal, Peter said: "Nope, that's not a skunk. That's a raccoon, or perhaps a badger." I swear, he said "or perhaps" and he's an American, not British, three-years-old boy. Also, it was a raccoon, after all. I laughed about that moment all morning, which made me forget about the poop ... well, almost.
And, so began my Monday morning. But, one thing I've noticed lately, is that if you spend your day with little kids, it can turn on a dime. One minute you are totally irked and annoyed and the next you are laughing out loud at something they do or say, almost forgetting the aforementioned irritation.
After giving Emily a bath, I did finally get all the kids out the door and in the car, heading to daycare. On the way there, I smelled a skunk and began talking to the kids about it. Up ahead, I saw a dead animal in the road, and said "Oh, look, that must be the skunk we smell." (Sure, I probably shouldn't be pointing out roadkill to my kids, but I was trying to keep them entertained.) As we passed the dead animal, Peter said: "Nope, that's not a skunk. That's a raccoon, or perhaps a badger." I swear, he said "or perhaps" and he's an American, not British, three-years-old boy. Also, it was a raccoon, after all. I laughed about that moment all morning, which made me forget about the poop ... well, almost.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Real Feelings
My kids only seem to cry for one of the following three reasons: (1) they are upset that they can't have what they want; (2) they are upset at being made to do something they don't want to do; or (3) they are - or think they are - physically hurt. Granted, #3 is legitimate, if it's a real injury, but the rest is just whining, as far as I am concerned. However, last night Peter added a fourth category to the list ... (4) when his feelings are hurt ... can you believe it? It seems like a breakthrough! Instead of whining, tears for a real purpose!
I needed to use Michael's room as a guest room for the night, so I asked him if he wanted to sleep in Peter's room or Emily's room. He chose the latter. I thought Peter might be a little upset about sleeping alone, so I let him have some extra toys at bedtime. All went well until about a 1/2 hour after I put the kids to bed. I heard Peter crying hysterically. I went to his room and asked him what was wrong and, through sobbing tears, he very coherently said, "I can hear Michael and Emily talking ... I have no one to talk to in my room ... I want to have a sleepover too!" That may sound like #1 whining to you, but I could see by his face that he was just devastated that Michael had chosen to spend the night with Emily and that they were having fun in there without him. I thought my heart was going to break into a million pieces. My poor, sweet Peter was actually crying over something real ... hurt feelings.
I suppose I should be glad for the breakthrough, but all I can think about is how there will probably be so many more times when I am going to have to try to explain why life isn't always fair and why people aren't always nice. How my heart is going to ache for each of them every time they don't make the team, don't get invited to the party or lose a best friend ... how will I make it all better for them? I hope I'll be able to do it without coming unglued myself!
So, I think a note to my Mom & Dad is in order here. M&D: I have no idea how you did it! You'll have to tell me someday. You were supportive without giving me false hopes. Felt "wronged" right there with me when someone wasn't nice or when I wasn't chosen for the team (both of which seemed to happen more often than not!). And, overall, continuously gave me the feeling that you were really proud of me ... well, except for when I pierced my left ear five times. Thank you, thank you , thank you! I hope I'll be able to follow in your footsteps!
I needed to use Michael's room as a guest room for the night, so I asked him if he wanted to sleep in Peter's room or Emily's room. He chose the latter. I thought Peter might be a little upset about sleeping alone, so I let him have some extra toys at bedtime. All went well until about a 1/2 hour after I put the kids to bed. I heard Peter crying hysterically. I went to his room and asked him what was wrong and, through sobbing tears, he very coherently said, "I can hear Michael and Emily talking ... I have no one to talk to in my room ... I want to have a sleepover too!" That may sound like #1 whining to you, but I could see by his face that he was just devastated that Michael had chosen to spend the night with Emily and that they were having fun in there without him. I thought my heart was going to break into a million pieces. My poor, sweet Peter was actually crying over something real ... hurt feelings.
I suppose I should be glad for the breakthrough, but all I can think about is how there will probably be so many more times when I am going to have to try to explain why life isn't always fair and why people aren't always nice. How my heart is going to ache for each of them every time they don't make the team, don't get invited to the party or lose a best friend ... how will I make it all better for them? I hope I'll be able to do it without coming unglued myself!
So, I think a note to my Mom & Dad is in order here. M&D: I have no idea how you did it! You'll have to tell me someday. You were supportive without giving me false hopes. Felt "wronged" right there with me when someone wasn't nice or when I wasn't chosen for the team (both of which seemed to happen more often than not!). And, overall, continuously gave me the feeling that you were really proud of me ... well, except for when I pierced my left ear five times. Thank you, thank you , thank you! I hope I'll be able to follow in your footsteps!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I Scream for Ice Cream
... or, maybe not.
If you read my introduction post about my family trainer, this post is a bit of a follow up. After my initial attempt to explain the marble game to the kids, and their complete inability to grasp the concept, I somehow managed to work up the nerve to try it again the next day. I still wasn't sure if they really "got it" but I, at least, continued to play the game all week. They weren't particularly good at earning marbles, but I thought if I put lots in the jar every time they did something good, they might actually have a chance of getting enough for a trip to Ben & Jerry's by the end of the weekend.
Today, I told them that if they napped well, I'd put the rest of the marbles in the jar and we'd go for ice cream. We got to B&J, ordered the ice cream and then the strangest thing happened. My daughter refused to get within 5 feet of the her ice cream. Pouting and carrying on and delivering her favorite line over and over: "Stop it Mommy, I've had it!" Well, isn't that just great! What two-year-old doesn't like ice cream? And, is it too much to ask to have just one normal parenting moment? She did, however, like the cows that were painted all over the walls ... yeah, I get it, a picture of a cow is so, so much better than ice cream, right?
At least the boys liked it. A little too much perhaps. Peter chased each bite of ice cream with spilled sprinkles that he licked off the table. And, Michael enthusiastically helped himself to Emily's uneaten portion. On any typical afternoon, the boys usually spend a significant portion of their time pretending that they are superheros ... well, THIS afternoon it was more like superheros on crack. But at least they enjoyed the ice cream like normal children ... sheesh!
If you read my introduction post about my family trainer, this post is a bit of a follow up. After my initial attempt to explain the marble game to the kids, and their complete inability to grasp the concept, I somehow managed to work up the nerve to try it again the next day. I still wasn't sure if they really "got it" but I, at least, continued to play the game all week. They weren't particularly good at earning marbles, but I thought if I put lots in the jar every time they did something good, they might actually have a chance of getting enough for a trip to Ben & Jerry's by the end of the weekend.
Today, I told them that if they napped well, I'd put the rest of the marbles in the jar and we'd go for ice cream. We got to B&J, ordered the ice cream and then the strangest thing happened. My daughter refused to get within 5 feet of the her ice cream. Pouting and carrying on and delivering her favorite line over and over: "Stop it Mommy, I've had it!" Well, isn't that just great! What two-year-old doesn't like ice cream? And, is it too much to ask to have just one normal parenting moment? She did, however, like the cows that were painted all over the walls ... yeah, I get it, a picture of a cow is so, so much better than ice cream, right?
At least the boys liked it. A little too much perhaps. Peter chased each bite of ice cream with spilled sprinkles that he licked off the table. And, Michael enthusiastically helped himself to Emily's uneaten portion. On any typical afternoon, the boys usually spend a significant portion of their time pretending that they are superheros ... well, THIS afternoon it was more like superheros on crack. But at least they enjoyed the ice cream like normal children ... sheesh!
Polite Society
An old and dear friend came to visit us yesterday with her husband and two boys in tow. Because she lives in California, I rarely get to see her. She called en route to let me know her approximate arrival time and to apologize that she was coming "empty-handed". I told her that moms with little kids should NEVER be expected to bring anything other than the actual kids to an event. How can someone think you are arriving "empty-handed" when your hands (and arms and back and any other part of the body that can be used to transport) are overflowing with diaper bags, sippy cups and favorite blankets, not to mention the kids themselves.
I really think that it should be a national policy (called "Ashley's Policy" perhaps?) that the rules of polite society don't apply to any mom with more than one kid under the age of five. No expectation of bringing wine to a party, of RSVPing on time, of ever writing a thank you note or of sending out a Christmas card before Valentine's Day. Of course, as my friends can attest, I have been living by Ashley's Policy for quite some time now. I strongly encourage all the other moms out there to join me!
I really think that it should be a national policy (called "Ashley's Policy" perhaps?) that the rules of polite society don't apply to any mom with more than one kid under the age of five. No expectation of bringing wine to a party, of RSVPing on time, of ever writing a thank you note or of sending out a Christmas card before Valentine's Day. Of course, as my friends can attest, I have been living by Ashley's Policy for quite some time now. I strongly encourage all the other moms out there to join me!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Disturbing the Peace
Has this ever happened to you? You see your kids playing p-e-r-f-e-c-t-l-y. That rare moment when they are ALL smiling and playing well together. And, for reasons that you can't explain, you feel the need to fix what's not broken. Add another toy to the mix, offer a glass of juice to the gang or just suggest a way to make perfect even better. I did it today. My husband had set up an awesome outdoor fort for the kids. He put two lawn chairs on their sides, pillows in between, folding the headrest portion of the chairs in towards each other as gates.
He came inside to get me, telling me that the kids wanted to show me the fort. I went outside and witnessed the aforementioned rare moment of perfect-play-paradise. And, then, I did the unthinkable. I offered to bring out a blanket to function as the roof of the fort. Of course, I couldn't get the blanket to stay put, so they all began fighting over it ... a crying spree that lasted well over an hour. That was about 3 hours ago, and I am still kicking myself. I know better. It has happened MANY times before. Yet it happened again today ... why?!? Perhaps posting here about this unpleasant episode will remind me not to disturb the peace again in the future. But, probably not, right?
He came inside to get me, telling me that the kids wanted to show me the fort. I went outside and witnessed the aforementioned rare moment of perfect-play-paradise. And, then, I did the unthinkable. I offered to bring out a blanket to function as the roof of the fort. Of course, I couldn't get the blanket to stay put, so they all began fighting over it ... a crying spree that lasted well over an hour. That was about 3 hours ago, and I am still kicking myself. I know better. It has happened MANY times before. Yet it happened again today ... why?!? Perhaps posting here about this unpleasant episode will remind me not to disturb the peace again in the future. But, probably not, right?
Ant Wars
I don't mind an occasional ant or two, but there is really nothing that grosses me out more than seeing a whole heard of them all in the same spot. Especially when I see it inside my house. And, you guessed it, that's the first thing I saw on my kitchen floor this morning. I can certainly see why they chose my kitchen floor, for its wide array of assorted crumbs, no doubt. But how on earth do they get inside? Through the cracks of the dog door? Through the vent under the kitchen table? After the last ant invasion about a month ago, I thoroughly investigated the latter source for any possible breach. I pulled the metal vent out and looked inside. It was really rather horrifying to me, but clearly an ant's dream come true. Used plastic forks and spoons and all sorts of food, naturally. I vacuumed everything up ... ants, forks, spoons and all. I thought I'd seen the last of them, until today.Evidently, at least one ant survived and made it back to his ant hill and told all the other ants where to find the mother load. And so, the ant wars continue ...
Friday, August 7, 2009
Flashback: April 23, 2005
The day we went to pick up our 7-week-old chocolate lab puppy in Pennsylvania. I cannot even begin to tell you the preparation that went into finding a breeder, picking a name, selecting a vet, buying food and toys, choosing a crate ... it was totally ridiculous. You know those totally neurotic, overly protective, first-time parents? We were 10 times worse than that ... and it was all for a dog!
So, after months of enthusiastic preparation, the big day finally arrived. Not only were we picking up our puppy, but we were also picking up a puppy from the same litter for my in-laws. We started off early for our 3+ hour drive, loaded up with more supplies than you can imagine. When we finally arrived, there were 13 puppies to choose from. Can you imagine having 13 babies at once?? It makes me exhausted just thinking about it. Here is a picture of the mother and her brood taken on a previous "scouting" trip to the breeder (yes, we made a 7-hour round-trip consultation visit ... I told you we were over-the-top ridiculous!):
It was very, very difficult to choose ... they were all so cute! Ultimately, my husband came up with deciding criteria for our puppy and his parents' puppy that made the choice easier. For our puppy (Wrigley), he just wanted the biggest male. He literally examined all six sets of paws for size ... it's really important, you know? And for his parents' puppy (Mirah), it was the female with the nicest coat. Once the decision was finally made, it was interesting to note that Wrigley spent the entire time trying to get back in the box with the rest of the puppies and Mirah wandered off on her own every chance she got. These were going to be two, very different pups!
As you might imagine, the ride home was just as ridiculous as everything else up to that point. We put each puppy on top of a blanket in a laundry basket, double and triple checking that they were snug and comfy before heading off. I, of course, rode in back with the pups to make sure they were okay at all times. We even turned the rear speakers off to ensure a top-rate travel experience for them. We stopped countless times to make sure they had plenty of water and potty breaks. You would have thought that we were transporting the most delicate, precious and important cargo in the world!
We did finally make it home with both dogs safe and sound. Phew!
And, so began our love affair with our dog, Wrigley.
I am, however, happy to report, that we got most of our first-time-parent jitters out with him and were relatively relaxed and normal when it came to parenting real children less than a year later. I guess our kids have Wrigley to thank for that!
So, after months of enthusiastic preparation, the big day finally arrived. Not only were we picking up our puppy, but we were also picking up a puppy from the same litter for my in-laws. We started off early for our 3+ hour drive, loaded up with more supplies than you can imagine. When we finally arrived, there were 13 puppies to choose from. Can you imagine having 13 babies at once?? It makes me exhausted just thinking about it. Here is a picture of the mother and her brood taken on a previous "scouting" trip to the breeder (yes, we made a 7-hour round-trip consultation visit ... I told you we were over-the-top ridiculous!):
It was very, very difficult to choose ... they were all so cute! Ultimately, my husband came up with deciding criteria for our puppy and his parents' puppy that made the choice easier. For our puppy (Wrigley), he just wanted the biggest male. He literally examined all six sets of paws for size ... it's really important, you know? And for his parents' puppy (Mirah), it was the female with the nicest coat. Once the decision was finally made, it was interesting to note that Wrigley spent the entire time trying to get back in the box with the rest of the puppies and Mirah wandered off on her own every chance she got. These were going to be two, very different pups!
As you might imagine, the ride home was just as ridiculous as everything else up to that point. We put each puppy on top of a blanket in a laundry basket, double and triple checking that they were snug and comfy before heading off. I, of course, rode in back with the pups to make sure they were okay at all times. We even turned the rear speakers off to ensure a top-rate travel experience for them. We stopped countless times to make sure they had plenty of water and potty breaks. You would have thought that we were transporting the most delicate, precious and important cargo in the world!
We did finally make it home with both dogs safe and sound. Phew!
And, so began our love affair with our dog, Wrigley.
I am, however, happy to report, that we got most of our first-time-parent jitters out with him and were relatively relaxed and normal when it came to parenting real children less than a year later. I guess our kids have Wrigley to thank for that!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
An Ego Boost
Having a bad day? Need an ego boost? Here's an idea: Sit down with your 2-3 year old and any fashion or gossip magazine and ask your toddler to try to find a picture of you. There are only pretty pictures to choose from (note: be sure to tear out the "fashion police" section before you start), so it is a total win-win situation ... your toddler thinks he/she is winning a game and you start to feel pretty damn good about yourself! My daughter has pointed to pictures of Jude Law and George Clooney saying "Daddy!" and pretty much thinks that I am every brunette celebrity out there. No wonder kids are obsessed with their parents and stalk them constantly ... to kids, their parents ARE famous!
Now, if only the rest of the world could see me through my daughter's eyes ... the first class tickets I would buy, the clothes I would wear, the famous people that I'd meet ....
Okay, okay, back to reality, a/k/a the pile of dirty dishes that I've been avoiding for the past hour.
Now, if only the rest of the world could see me through my daughter's eyes ... the first class tickets I would buy, the clothes I would wear, the famous people that I'd meet ....
Okay, okay, back to reality, a/k/a the pile of dirty dishes that I've been avoiding for the past hour.
Sleep Habits
I just finished changing the sheets on the kids' beds, fascinating, I know, but I had to post a list of what I found in Peter's bed (under at least two blankets and countless books & stuffed animals, mind you):
- An empty mac & cheese box;
- A schedule of classes at my gym, torn into about 10 pieces;
- A car;
- A dragon that he swiped at a playdate ages ago; and
- A plastic screwdriver.
Kids & TV
I, for one, am all for letting kids watch TV. But, I really don't understand why there aren't any really good shows for pre-schoolers. Most of the shows meant for 3-year-old kids are just not interesting enough to keep their attention. The only shows that do seem to keep their attention seem too violent and scary for their age. I mean, can't they come up with a villain that falls somewhere between the laughable Swiper the Fox and the really rather scary Ursula the Sea Witch? Or make a superheros show that doesn't involve all kinds of crazy violence? Is it really too much to ask?
As we all know, young kids mimic everything they see and hear, including what they see on television. For example, one of my boys was watching the age-appropriate show Toot & Puddle last night which featured parachuting, of all things. This morning he asked me if he could "tuck & roll" down the stairs. Nice, right? So you can imagine what happens when they watch the shows that are really meant for older kids ... they think they know martial arts, they start saying words like "stupid" and "idiot," they turn absolutely everything into a weapon, and so on. So, please, to all the TV and movie execs out there, make a few shows that my kids will actually find entertaining, but that won't cause any further mayhem in my house!!
As we all know, young kids mimic everything they see and hear, including what they see on television. For example, one of my boys was watching the age-appropriate show Toot & Puddle last night which featured parachuting, of all things. This morning he asked me if he could "tuck & roll" down the stairs. Nice, right? So you can imagine what happens when they watch the shows that are really meant for older kids ... they think they know martial arts, they start saying words like "stupid" and "idiot," they turn absolutely everything into a weapon, and so on. So, please, to all the TV and movie execs out there, make a few shows that my kids will actually find entertaining, but that won't cause any further mayhem in my house!!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Doggie Daycare
Tuesdays are my one day a week home alone with all the kids, all day long. So, of course, I've been taking it upon myself to take the dog to daycare on Tuesdays as a special treat to myself. I suppose that it is totally pathetic that I can't take care of three kids and one dog for just one day a week, but that seems to be the reality of it. You might think, "how could a dog really add to the chaos?" Well, here are a couple things to consider:
As we are getting ready to leave this morning, the noise levels were very high, as usual. Especially once the dog realized that, for once, he was coming along too. As we were all trying to make it down the basement stairs, Peter turned to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want to wear my ears today." Strange, right? He said something similar a couple of days ago, like "please take my ears off Mommy." I was thinking it over in the car, and it occurred to me that maybe he is trying to say that it is too loud and that he wants a way to block out the noise. Could it be that he's actually kind of smart and intuitive instead of a total weirdo? I wonder if I could get him to wear earplugs ... if not, Lord knows I'd gladly wear them!
Now For A Flashback ...
I think I'll try to add in a flashback here and there of some of my favorite, or at least memorable, moments that date before the beginning of this blog. Although I'd love to write them in chronological order or at least try to link them to the daily topic under which they appear, I know that's not going to happen. But, haphazard or not, I still think I should write them here before they are gone from my memory altogether. So, prepare to be taken back in time to ...
May 16, 2007. The day that my daughter, Emily, was born. And the day that I made the best friend of my life. The very same woman, in fact, who has been encouraging me to write for the past two years and told me how to set up my own blog. Jordi, I dedicate this post to you!
As I was nearing my due date with my daughter, I began to worry about how I would get to the hospital and who would take care of my 15-month-old twins when the day to deliver arrived. I did have a babysitter at the time, who arrived at 8:30am each morning, but my husband left for work at 5:30am for an hour-long commute by train to the city. I thought, as long as I don't go into labor at 5:30am on a weekday, I'll be fine. Well, you can guess what happened ... yes, that's right, my first contraction came right after my husband left for work. I thought I had time ... that I'd be able to wait till 8:30 to head to the hospital. But, by about 7am, my contractions were very, very close and could no longer be ignored ... I was really beginning to worry.
I had met a nice woman, Jordi, a few months earlier through mutual friends. She lived very close to me and offered to give me her number in case I needed help getting to the hospital on delivery day. But, I barely knew her, and she was also pregnant and had a toddler as well, so I really couldn't imagine any circumstances under which I would actually call her. But, by about 7:30am on May 16, 2007, I was so scared that I was going to end up delivering my baby at home, that I forced myself to make the call.
And she was amazing, truly amazing. Came right over and stayed with me until reinforcements arrived and then drove me to the hospital. I'll never forget Jordi's daughter saying "go, go, go" in the backseat at every green light that appeared on the way there. My daughter was born about a 1/2 hour after I got to the hospital ... it was very close, to say the least!
To this day, I still get the chills when I think about what would have happened if I hadn't made that call to Jordi. Not only did she save the day on May 16th, she subsequently became the best friend in the world to me. She has seen me through so many parenting nightmares, I can't even begin to list them all. But, more importantly, she's made me laugh and taught me to have a sense of humor when it comes to parenting ... which, I now know, is the only way to survive it!
So, thank you Jordi, for such an incredible friendship ... I would be truly lost without it!
- He tries to eat the kids' food and the kids try to eat his food;
- He "asks" to be let out and in constantly just to annoy me;
- Alternatively, if I leave the dog door open, the kids crawl out;
- He insists on pushing past all of us to run down the stairs to the garage; and
- He purposely, I think, loses his tennis ball under the couch and woofs at it non-stop.
As we are getting ready to leave this morning, the noise levels were very high, as usual. Especially once the dog realized that, for once, he was coming along too. As we were all trying to make it down the basement stairs, Peter turned to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want to wear my ears today." Strange, right? He said something similar a couple of days ago, like "please take my ears off Mommy." I was thinking it over in the car, and it occurred to me that maybe he is trying to say that it is too loud and that he wants a way to block out the noise. Could it be that he's actually kind of smart and intuitive instead of a total weirdo? I wonder if I could get him to wear earplugs ... if not, Lord knows I'd gladly wear them!
Now For A Flashback ...
I think I'll try to add in a flashback here and there of some of my favorite, or at least memorable, moments that date before the beginning of this blog. Although I'd love to write them in chronological order or at least try to link them to the daily topic under which they appear, I know that's not going to happen. But, haphazard or not, I still think I should write them here before they are gone from my memory altogether. So, prepare to be taken back in time to ...
May 16, 2007. The day that my daughter, Emily, was born. And the day that I made the best friend of my life. The very same woman, in fact, who has been encouraging me to write for the past two years and told me how to set up my own blog. Jordi, I dedicate this post to you!
As I was nearing my due date with my daughter, I began to worry about how I would get to the hospital and who would take care of my 15-month-old twins when the day to deliver arrived. I did have a babysitter at the time, who arrived at 8:30am each morning, but my husband left for work at 5:30am for an hour-long commute by train to the city. I thought, as long as I don't go into labor at 5:30am on a weekday, I'll be fine. Well, you can guess what happened ... yes, that's right, my first contraction came right after my husband left for work. I thought I had time ... that I'd be able to wait till 8:30 to head to the hospital. But, by about 7am, my contractions were very, very close and could no longer be ignored ... I was really beginning to worry.
I had met a nice woman, Jordi, a few months earlier through mutual friends. She lived very close to me and offered to give me her number in case I needed help getting to the hospital on delivery day. But, I barely knew her, and she was also pregnant and had a toddler as well, so I really couldn't imagine any circumstances under which I would actually call her. But, by about 7:30am on May 16, 2007, I was so scared that I was going to end up delivering my baby at home, that I forced myself to make the call.
And she was amazing, truly amazing. Came right over and stayed with me until reinforcements arrived and then drove me to the hospital. I'll never forget Jordi's daughter saying "go, go, go" in the backseat at every green light that appeared on the way there. My daughter was born about a 1/2 hour after I got to the hospital ... it was very close, to say the least!
To this day, I still get the chills when I think about what would have happened if I hadn't made that call to Jordi. Not only did she save the day on May 16th, she subsequently became the best friend in the world to me. She has seen me through so many parenting nightmares, I can't even begin to list them all. But, more importantly, she's made me laugh and taught me to have a sense of humor when it comes to parenting ... which, I now know, is the only way to survive it!
So, thank you Jordi, for such an incredible friendship ... I would be truly lost without it!
Monday, August 3, 2009
An Introduction
This is my first post and first blogging experience, so I'm not quite sure where to begin. Perhaps a little background would be useful? I am 35 years old, have been married for six years and have three kids and a dog. Sounds pretty typical and boring, but let me break down the kid and dog situation: I have fraternal twin boys who are 3.5 years old, a daughter who is 2 years old and a 90-lb chocolate lab who is 4 years old ... it is total insanity. Maybe not as insane as Jon & Kate Plus 8, but pretty insane as far as I'm concerned. Plus, Jon & Kate don't have a dog, so I have them beat in that regard!
I have many, many stories I'd like to tell ... funny ones, scary ones, annoying ones ... you name it, I have it. I would love to start writing about all of them right now, but would obviously never manage to catch up to the present day with that approach. So, I hope to do some "recalling" here and there as I blog about daily life with my crazy kids. I hope, if nothing else, to have a record of this time in my life ... of the days that I thought would never end!
Of course, all that being said, I don't really have too much to report today. The kids were in daycare most of the day, which is always a REALLY nice break for me. I did have a meeting today with a woman who comes to my house twice a month to help me figure out ways to deal with my insane children. She's called a "family trainer," but it is a bit of a misnomer, unfortunately. I had hoped that she would actually train my family instead of trying to train me to train my family. Doesn't she realize that no one in my family listens to me? However, at her suggestion, I have been trying to do a sticker reward chart to whip the kids into shape, which worked for awhile but has recently lost its appeal. Actually, Michael is still kind of into it, but Peter could care less and Emily just peels all her stickers off and sticks them all over herself and the rest of the house.
So today my "trainer" suggested that I get a clear jar and tell the kids that every time they do something good a marble will go in the jar and when it is all filled up they'll get a trip to Ben & Jerry's. Ok, so I've never taken my kids to Ben & Jerry's, or really any place where they would be expected to act like normal children, as opposed to wild animals. But I liked the general idea and figured I could just change the reward to something that wouldn't feel like a punishment to myself, like a lolly pop at home, perhaps? When I got the kids home from school today, I sat them down and tried to explain the new game to them. Here's what happened: Michael wanted me to dump out all the marbles so he could play with them, Peter wanted to know if he'd get to eat the marbles and Emily wanted to know if she could have a lolly pop for dinner. Nice, right? So I think the new game will have to be put on hold for awhile ... planning to resort to old-fashioned time-outs till my "trainer" returns with another idea for me to try.
Ok, first blog accomplished! Stay tuned for more soon!
I have many, many stories I'd like to tell ... funny ones, scary ones, annoying ones ... you name it, I have it. I would love to start writing about all of them right now, but would obviously never manage to catch up to the present day with that approach. So, I hope to do some "recalling" here and there as I blog about daily life with my crazy kids. I hope, if nothing else, to have a record of this time in my life ... of the days that I thought would never end!
Of course, all that being said, I don't really have too much to report today. The kids were in daycare most of the day, which is always a REALLY nice break for me. I did have a meeting today with a woman who comes to my house twice a month to help me figure out ways to deal with my insane children. She's called a "family trainer," but it is a bit of a misnomer, unfortunately. I had hoped that she would actually train my family instead of trying to train me to train my family. Doesn't she realize that no one in my family listens to me? However, at her suggestion, I have been trying to do a sticker reward chart to whip the kids into shape, which worked for awhile but has recently lost its appeal. Actually, Michael is still kind of into it, but Peter could care less and Emily just peels all her stickers off and sticks them all over herself and the rest of the house.
So today my "trainer" suggested that I get a clear jar and tell the kids that every time they do something good a marble will go in the jar and when it is all filled up they'll get a trip to Ben & Jerry's. Ok, so I've never taken my kids to Ben & Jerry's, or really any place where they would be expected to act like normal children, as opposed to wild animals. But I liked the general idea and figured I could just change the reward to something that wouldn't feel like a punishment to myself, like a lolly pop at home, perhaps? When I got the kids home from school today, I sat them down and tried to explain the new game to them. Here's what happened: Michael wanted me to dump out all the marbles so he could play with them, Peter wanted to know if he'd get to eat the marbles and Emily wanted to know if she could have a lolly pop for dinner. Nice, right? So I think the new game will have to be put on hold for awhile ... planning to resort to old-fashioned time-outs till my "trainer" returns with another idea for me to try.
Ok, first blog accomplished! Stay tuned for more soon!
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