Crouching ambulance, howling toddler

Kyle and Grant have some of the funniest antics, many of which Dave and I are responsible for, though some I will completely deny involvement in. The two funniest ones of late are ones that make me say, “Oh geez, I can’t imagine what strangers or day care teachers will think.”

SCENARIO 1: We hear sirens

What he does: Looks at you dramatically, eyes and mouth wide open, then throws his head back, wobbles it slightly from side to side and howls like a wolf. This usually gets Grant going; he hasn’t mastered the sound but he throws his head back and shakes it from side to side. Pretty darned cute.

What a stranger thinks: Is that kid howling? At sirens? What a little nut.

How it started: Our dogs were howling at sirens one day. I love it when they do this – don’t know why – I just do. The boys looked at me nervously and to put them at ease I dramatically started howling. What really won’t help strangers’ perception is that when Dave and Grant and I are around we all start howling because we think it’s funny. Obviously we don’t care very much about what strangers think.


SCENARIO 2: Changing Kyle’s diaper

What he does: When Kyle hears the word ‘diaper’ he starts saying “No poopy” and shaking his head. He says it about 45 times throughout the process. He’s really into poopy these days. His new favorite antic is to check Baby Tad’s butt (Baby Tad is a talking frog) and say “POOPY!!!” as if he found Diego and Dora.

What a stranger thinks: Why is he repeating that he doesn't have poopy? Does he get scolded if he poops? Is he afraid of his parents? Do they whack him if he poops? Hmmm, I’d better call CPS.

How it started: Who knows. He’s two.

It’s off to the mall for a walk with Julie and Matthew this morning. Maybe I'll end up with more antics to write about!

Green beans are ready to go

I learned something today that I’ve been wondering about, especially now that Kyle is in these sizes. What is the difference between clothing sizes 24m and 2T? The word on the street (okay, Michelle’s blog) is that 24m has more room for diapers, can have a slimmer fit and is often longer. My cynical side has decided it’s all an evil strategy by the clothing manufacturers to lure us toddler-having parents into buying the 24m version, then liking it enough to buy the 2T version about 2 months later.

We’re trying to get the boys settled back in after a big week for them. They spent four days with Baba and Papa (Dave’s parents) while Dave and I had our non-honeymoon honeymoon (translation: stayed in town but didn’t have any kids!). Then they had a day and a half here at home then it was off to Grammy’s (my mom) for Thanksgiving. Now it’s back home and how-many-ways-we-can-test-mommy-and-daddy-and-see-how-far-our-silly-shenanigans-and-fake-crying-will-get-us.

Too bad they aren’t old enough to pull out the Santa threats. Though the Santa threats probably won’t work with Kyle and Grant. In another year just when threatening Santa sanctions might start to work, I’m pretty sure that the boys will say, “Santa shmanta. We have grandparents.”

It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving – not a very fun day for someone who hates shopping and would rather knock myself in the head with a can of green beans than go to a store with a bunch of angry shoppers so determined to save $5 that I might actually knock them in the head with a jar of sauerkraut (had to think of something heavier than the aforementioned can of green beans).

Did I mention that it’s freezing outside which means little to no outside play? No outside play and no outings (see the previous paragraph) will make for a lovely day. I think I’m going to go check the pantry to make sure I have a can of green beans ready in case I need to knock myself out!

No trip for us at the moment

Well, Dave and I have canceled our trip to Santa Fe that we would’ve left for tomorrow. We didn’t want to waste money if I wasn’t going to be able to do as much as we’d like. The pneumonia is better and it’ll probably be fine but oh well. The boys are still going to Dave’s parents’ without us and Dave and I are just going to have a nice weekend doing things we never get to do.

I’ve been working more than I’d like. Not necessarily more hours than I’d like, but more often. I officially work Tuesdays and Thursdays but I’m finding myself checking my email and logging in to work on problems during the other days of the week. It’s making it so work is in the back of my mind all the time. Gotta work on that.

No clever subject here

So yesterday I blew the do a blog entry every day for the month of November goal. If I really cared I guess I could’ve gotten up, posted something early this morning and back-dated it to yesterday, but that would’ve been just plain silly. Dave and I started to worry that we’ll have to postpone our Santa Fe trip because of me having pneumonia, but we’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. My attitude at this moment is that I’ll be a lot better by Thursday and we’ll just adjust what we can do if we have to.

I didn’t go shopping yesterday because I was just too sweaty (thanks, steroids) and out of breath – I just couldn’t imagine walking from one end of anywhere to another. I’m going to have to go to the mall because I’ve been disappointed lately with the quality of clothes I’ve gotten from Kohl’s.

Kyle is melting down at every little thing. If you look at him wrong, if something he wanted to remain in one place moves a fraction of an inch, if you tell him to drink some milk before he shovels more food in his mouth – well, it all results in screaming and crying, sometimes real and sometimes forced. It’s kind of wearing us out but we’ve gone through little (and big) behavior phases before so this is just another one. He’s got his hands in his mouth a lot which makes us think of teething, but I could swear he had all the teeth he’s going to get for awhile. Guess I need to do some googling.

Grant’s latest thing is climbing on everything he shouldn’t. When he gets scolded, he takes his foot down and then smiles the cutest, most manipulative “now you can’t really be mad at me” smile. My response to that would be, “I’m going to be really mad when that Phonics bus you’re standing on slips out from under you and you get a black eye which I have to desperately explain to day care and anyone in public who looks at me like I’m a child abuser.”

I guess I’d better get presentable so I can go shopping. But wouldn’t it be so much better for my lungs and recovery for me to take a nap. Those who know me know which of these is going to win this battle.

Happy face

It's been a rough day in kid world here. The boys got up on the wrong side of their cribs and my irritability doesn't help calm the situation. I heard from the doctor that I have pneumonia and it can take between 2 to 4 weeks to clear up. It's an aspiration-type pneumonia and not an infection-type so no antibiotics unless things get worse. I can sure tell I'm on the steroids though - cranky, moody, blue. Two days of it down, five to go.

I'm going to have to force myself to go shopping this weekend since I have NO clothes that fit. Fortunately the weather has been such that I can sneak by with the sweatshirt and shorts look, but before long I will absolutely have to wear a pair of pants. Problem is, I hate to go shopping on a good day. Bigger problem is, I really hate it when I have to face how much weight I've gained over the last year. Dave and I are going on our belated honeymoon to Santa Fe next week and I supposed I'll need something to wear. I think we'll get to meet Leslie, an adoptive mom who went through her son's adoption while I was going through Kyle's. We've never even spoken on the phone, but it's amazing the kinships you can develop via email, especially when you're going through such an emotional experience as adoption.

Not sure what we'll do this weekend. My primary goal is to not let myself get any deeper in this blue mood. It's coming up on a sad anniversary for me so I think that's related to my frame of mind. I'm finding every possible thing to beat myself up over and when I find something I just add it to the snowball, and it gets momentum and then whammo. So my goal for tomorrow is to find my happy face. Wish me luck!

Almost missed it

I almost went to bed without posting an entry today but I'm getting in with an hour to spare. It's not like there are any sanctions or shame committee associated with National Blog Posting Month so it's not a big deal - I'm just trying to see if I can actually do it (post an entry every day for month of November).

Today was a so-so day. Kind of feeling blue but maybe I'll blame that on PMS. I went to the doc today and got a chest x-ray. I had an icky acid reflux episode Tuesday night and I aspirated which means the stomach acid came up and ended up going back down into my lungs. Appetizing, huh? So I guess I won't mention how unpleasant it was or how fun it is to have stomach acid coming out your nose. In a nutshell, it sucked.

Okay, so how was that for an interesting, entertaining blog entry? You're awed, I know.

My very own peanut gallery

I've known for awhile that we need to watch what we say around Kyle since he's in the repeat a word every 8 seconds phase. Last week when I changed Grant's diaper I made a gagging noise and said, "Ewwww! Barfbag." So what did I get from my very own personal peanut gallery? Yep. Barfbag. Fortunately, it wasn't understandable if you didn't know the context.

Then yesterday I was sitting on the couch and Kyle leaned on me in a less than comfortable position. I said, "Ow! No squishing the b00bies!" Apparently that is a much funner and far easier word to say than barfbag and unfortunately he says this one clear as a bell.

Zero tolerance for junior

There was a story in the news here yesterday that gave new meaning to the school district's zero tolerance policy, when the district suspended a four-year-old pre-K student for three days. A 4-year-old for three days?!? Give me a break.

I know you must be thinking, "Now, Mary Jo, they have these policies for a reason. Surely the little boy did something really horrible like bring a live grenade for show-and-tell and threaten to blow the whole class to bits. Or maybe he wheeled his portable meth lab to school in his Radio Flyer wagon."

Nope. He brought to school a key chain with a little fake gun on it. I'm talking 2 inches by 2 inches. I hate guns and firmly expect that my kids will be able to go to public school without worrying about guns being there. I think a policy of no guns no matter how little and no matter how fake is a good one. The problem I have is not the policy, but the enforcement of it.

Is suspending a preschooler for three days, an infraction that will go on his permanent record, really the best way to honor the intent of zero tolerance? I certainly think a trip to the principal’s office for both the kid and his parents is warranted but a 3-day suspension is a tad much. I’m guessing that the ‘policy’ is one-size-fits-all; that it applies to all students period. While it should apply to all students in terms of whether they can bring a gun to school, I think a cute little matrix of age groups and punishments would be a wise addition to the policy.

By the way, once the news station starting shining a light on this, the school quickly changed the suspension to a half-day, in school suspension. Heck, that was yesterday. With enough pressure they may have revised it further today and given him a free trip to Baskin Robbins along with a please-don’t-sue-us greeting card.

MINE!

How worried should we be? Seventeen-month-old Grant’s first clearly understandable word is “MINE!” This is accompanied by a grimace of objection (usually because whatever he’s referring to is about to get taken away) and clutching the prized object to his little chest. The other day, he was standing on top of the slide and Kyle (27 months) wanted to get up. They both stood frozen – Kyle on the ground and Grant on the play equipment – shrieking “MINE!” back and forth. Kind of like a tennis volley, but more like a couple of small dogs on opposite sides of a chain link fence, just yapping away at each other.

So courtesy of big brother Kyle, Grant’s first word is quite charming. I’m fully expecting Grant’s next feat to be a full sentence, “Dude, you better jump back.” Kyle’s first words were duck and ball, but then again, he didn’t have an older brother to contend with.

The boys spent the weekend out at their grandparents’ house (Dave’s parents) having a miserable time playing in a massive pile of dirt getting as filthy as possible (big plus in the fun department), walking down to the lake, throwing rocks in the water, visiting the neighbor’s demon-possessed geese (surely there’s a Biblical passage somewhere about geese, right?), taking golf cart rides, playing on the porch, watching Papa scoop and dump dirt in his big tractor and all kinds of other torturous things Baba and Papa inflicted upon them. Poor little darlings.

My masterful toy sculpture

The weather was gorgeous here yesterday and the boys are having a sleepover at their Baba’s and Papa’s house. Dave and I are kid-free for over 24 hours this weekend! We aren’t doing anything particularly special or momentous like maybe we should while we have the chance, but it is incredibly nice to just do regular and even mundane stuff without the kiddos around. We actually got to clean our bedroom, hang some pictures, go fly Dave’s RC plane and go to a little Italian place for a casual dinner.

Another chore I tackled yesterday, albeit half-heartedly, was getting rid of some of the toys that seem to reproduce as we sleep and have taken over our living room. There’s one tub of little stuff that the boys like to dump out. That’s it. That’s the game. There’s no exploring the toys, no putting them on their heads and pretending to sneeze which of course makes the toy fall off. Nothing but dumping the tub. So as a unit this mish-mash of random unrelated toy parts and rejects qualifies as a toy, doesn’t it? But as individual items, they don’t get played with and just create a big mess.

So what did I do? Not wanting to betray these little trinkets that have given the boys at least 60 seconds of pleasure, I had to think of a way to preserve all that they have brought to our lives but at the same time getting them the heck off our floor. I got out the glue gun and the welding torch and made a toy sculpture that is nothing short of a masterpiece.

Actually, I tossed all the crap into an empty Huggies box so it can make a journey to Goodwill this week. But I thought about making a sculpture so that should count for something, right?

Ring tones' slippery slope

Is it wrong for me to roll my eyes at other people’s ring tones when my own cell phone plays some sort of Asian jingle? In my defense, it’s just one of the standard ten that’s on the phone. The other one I considered was a jazzy little Hungarian tune, but it was a little too obnoxious.

I’m doing a consulting gig two days a week and I sit in my little cubbyhole minding my own business. When suddenly, out of nowhere, I’m thrust back to the early to mid-1980’s and Hawaii is on my mind. Yep, it’s the theme song from Magnum P.I. You may remember the opening from the show is a shot of a helicopter swooping over the water. Whenever this dude’s phone goes off, I imagine him flying through the office with his trusty theme music at his side.

So I sit and ask myself, “IF I were into ring tones, which one would I want?” And suddenly it becomes clear to me how perfectly normal, sensible people get sucked into the whole ring tone thing. Remember when you first started using a computer and you realized that you could change the desktop background, windows frames, screen savers and the like? Remember how you thought oh I’ll just change this one thing – it’ll only take a second. Then two hours later you emerge blurry eyed and drooling from testing all the options and backgrounds, trying to find just the right one that makes a statement and heaven forbid if you pick the wrong one that doesn’t fit you could be forever branded the loser on the second floor who has a picture of a Cabbage Patch Kid on her screen and ohmygod can you believe she changed her color theme to mauve?!?!?

Okay, what the heck was I talking about? Oh yeah – ring tones. I’m not going down that slippery slope. One minute I’ll be convinced that the theme music from The Walton’s is just right, and the next minute I’ll realize that will be certain social death. Now, the Little House on the Prairie intro… that’s good stuff.

Cool Your Melon

The boys are napping now, and I’m sitting at the computer, alternating between staring at a blank Word document just waiting for all my brilliant thoughts and observations; and reading other blogs I like. Oh, and listening to Access Hollywood out of the corner of my ear, in hopes that I’ll get some blog fodder. But that’s just causing a headache because it hurts to roll my eyes so much. Honestly, I care about Britney as much as the next person (none) but enough about her meltdowns already.

I changed the template on my blog and renamed it “Cool Your Melon.” Makes no sense? You’re right, except that I say that expression about 12 times a day. I’m not sure how it started but it’s my generic cool your jets, calm down, keep your shorts on, knock it off expression. About half the time I add Stanley to the end, as in “Cool your melon, Stanley.” Keep in mind that my sons’ names are Kyle and Grant, my husband is Dave and my two dogs are female. The only Stanley I know is the landlord on Three’s Company and we aren’t even all that close.

So it’s random but very me. At some point I’ll add some graphics and other stuff to the blog, but now that I’ve committed to doing a blog entry every day for the month of November I won’t have any time. It’ll be a miracle if I can do a daily entry, especially with Dave and I taking a five-day vacation in two weeks, but I’ll give it a go.

Halloween averted

It’s National Blog Posting Month and I’ve signed up. All I have to do is post an entry every day for the whole month of November. “All I have to do” is kind of a silly thing to say because I’m a bit intimidated by it and it’s easier said than done to come up with a blog entry every day, but it’s exactly the kind of challenge I need to jump start the blog again! Wish me luck!

It’s over! Halloween. I don’t like it. I don’t like the characters, the masks, the music, the cotton spiderweb stuff in trees and the like. I admit that there have been years in the past where I’ve actually turned my front light on and given out candy; the one thing I do like about Halloween is seeing the cute little trick-or-treaters in their costumes. Well, until some of the older ones get just plain rude. Then I turn off the light and console myself with Three Musketeers and Tootsie Rolls, lamenting about the state of our future at the hands of ill-behaved monsters.

The final piece of soul-searching I had to do when I was considering becoming a mom was this reflective statement: If I become a mom, I will actually have to participate in Halloween and mostly act like I enjoy it. If I’m okay with that, then I can start the adoption proceeding.

Fortunately, the boys are just one and two so we could get by this year without participating, but I realize this will be the last year. I will say that we loved the Halloween present the boys’ aunt and uncle sent – matching sweat shirts, trick-or-treat bags which the boys carry like they are purses, DVD’s and books. But next year, Dave and I will be carving a pumpkin (okay, Dave will do that), dressing up the kids and stalking the neighbors (also known as trick-or-treating). Although I am working up a plan to get the kids on my side. I really think I’m onto something. I’ll deliver the following bit of news in the most earnest hey-this-message-isn’t-coming-from-me-I’m-just-telling-you-the-facts:

Well, boys, it’s time to pick you costumes? What? You say you’re excited? Oh darlings I’m so glad to hear you say that – nothing makes me happier than knowing you’re excited. I’m also proud of you for risking the Christmas consequences that sometime occur as a result of participating in Halloween. Unfortunately, Santa frowns upon Halloween and sometimes there are consequences on Christmas morning for those who take part. Santa sanctions, if you will. I know, kids, I think it's horrifying, too, but I'm just telling you the word on the street.

I didn’t think I was going to stoop so low so early in the parenting adventure, but alas, I’m going to start playing the Santa card. Pathetic, I know.

Updates on the boys

I have blogger's block. So just some updates on the boys, how's that?

Grant - 17 months old. He is just a happy, easy-going little guy, with an adorable smile and hearty laugh. He tries to do everything Kyle does and often succeeds. He's the more laid back of the two boys and is sometimes my own worst enemy when I'm trying to get Kyle to share or not be ugly to him, because at least 50% of the time, if Kyle goes bananas over a toy and they start screaming, Grant will just move on, completely unaffected. It's not an I'm-scared-so-I'm-going-to-let-Kyle-win kind of thing; it's more along the lines of dude-it's-a-toy-chill-out-we-only-have-about-120-other-ones-so-here-knock-yourself-out.

Kyle - 2 years and 2 months old. I'll start with the really good stuff. He makes us laugh hysterically and is big on physical humor. Flinging himself to the ground dramatically after running around drunkenly with his chest and tummy stuck out as he’s drumming on them and saying, “Whoa, whoa, whooooaaaa!” Or acting like he’s throwing a ball at himself (he’s really just holding it and then touches his chest with it) and flopping to the ground as if it knocked him unconscious. I will admit, I have a flair for the dramatic, but I really don’t know how he comes up with some of this stuff.

The really hard stuff is probably fairly typical toddler behavior, though now that it’s happening to me it feels like it’s the worst situation in all of parenthood (it’s not). If I hear “no” one more time I might turn to clay (and actually wish I would sometimes). He freaks out when things don’t go his way or at least the way he expects them to. And then of course he watches to see how mommy and daddy are going to handle it, no doubt taking careful mental notes so he knows how to get us even more the next time. I won’t even get started on the hitting.

We’re off to watch one of my nieces play softball this morning and I don’t know what else. Tomorrow it’s out to see Dave’s parents to celebrate his mom’s birthday. Should be fun.

Mooooove!

Kyle has been adding new words to his vocabulary every day; for the most part you have to either be his mom or dad or have nothing better to do than watch every move he makes and every place he looks so you can use context to make an educated guess of what he’s saying.

His newest addition seems to be “Move” which when he says it is more like “Mooooo.” He says it kind of insistently and while it’s not ugly, it’s not cute. When he says it to me, it’s usually because I’m laying on one of our big stuffed dogs and he wants on it. Usually I say, “Well, actually, I’m laying on it right now. You can have it when I’m done with my turn, though.”

We were at Target on Friday and I realized that as I’m wheeling the boys around in their stroller, he’s telling anyone who is stopped in our way to move. I liked that he used it right, but then I crinkled up my face because it’s just rude and I don’t want him saying that. Not to mention that if the other people had heard they'd probably think he was moo-ing at them, implying that they could stand to put in a little time at Curves.

So I was pondering where he got this charming word and sentiment from and my first thought was that he’s back at day care so maybe he’s heard it there. Then it dawned on me. Dave and I are to blame.

One of our dogs, Katie – a shepherd mix – is actually to blame. If she wouldn’t be in the way all the time, we wouldn’t have to tell her to move in a very irritated tone of voice. She is our sweet little baby, but she is very needy and is pretty high strung (hence the anti-anxiety medication she takes every night to the tune of $47 per month). She is very talented about getting in our way and nearly tripping us at every turn. A perfect example is her stepping on the back of my slip-on shoes while I was walking a few months ago. A few months ago I said, “Katie, why are you stepping on my shoes?” Dave answered for Katie, “Because I can’t get up your butt.”

So at least 37 times a day, everyone in the house hears, “Katie! Move!” or just “Move!!!” This is my first real experience with one of my kids adopting one of my undesirable behaviors; it’s not my most shining parental moment, but it’s relatively tame. Dave and I just need to stop doing it. We’re thinking of trying out one of these three options:
1. Pardon me, Katie.
2. Just ignoring it, since it’s white noise to her anyway.
3. Katie, get the f$%* out of the way.”

My keen maternal instincts tell me that option three probably isn’t our best plan of action unless we want Kyle’s next word to be the f-bomb (we don’t), so I think we’ll try out the first two. What do you think?

Goldfish and other guts

Here’s a very important exercise I need you to follow. Stand up and put your arms at your sides. Now lick one of your thumbs and put your arm back down. Take your wet thumb and stamp it on your leg wherever your arm is hanging. Somewhere on the side of your thigh near the top of your leg. Okay, so now you know the area I’m talking about.

I’ve been combing the mall and anywhere else I can find so I can scrutinize the upper thighs of moms with young children. Subtly, of course, as I don’t want them to get creeped out. You’re likely asking yourself what on earth is this nut doing, right?

I’m looking to see if I am the only mother who has the remnants of their day on their clothes, especially in that area. Am I the only one who has wiped mushy, wet, half-chewed Goldfish guts on her thigh? The only one who wipes drops of water, juice or milk on herself? Oh, settle down. I certainly don’t wipe everything on myself and I use napkins and Kleenex regularly, but what’s a mom to do when she has neither of those or anything that could suffice, and their toddler decides to give them said Goldfish guts?

Am I to frantically try to fling it from my hand so that it goes anywhere but my hand without regard to anyone else who might sit on the bench? I am way too thoughtful for that. Plus the guts would probably just land on my leg like gooey torpedo and then where would I be? Frantically kicking my leg in hopes of propelling the guts off me? I’m far too civilized for that.

So I guess I’ll either make sure I carry napkins with me all the time, or resign myself to dirty shorts. One problem, though. Kyle has noticed me do this and he decided the other day to wipe his grimy little mitts on my shorts. Maybe I’d better get on that napkin thing.

The potty horizon

I think that potty training Kyle is on the horizon. The only problem is that this particular horizon isn’t one I’m terribly keen on seeing just yet.

Kyle is 2 years, 2 months old. He’s long been able to tell us when his diaper needs changing and has recently realized that poop sure stinks. He seems to have some control over his bladder and will sometimes pee in his diaper when we suggest it. At bathtime just before taking off his diaper all the way, I’ll say, “Do you need to go pee pee?” and he will.

He’s showing a lot of interest in the toilet and points to it and says “pee pee” and “poo poo”, just in case I am unclear about what goes in there. He’s now in preschool (okay, it’s pre-preschool) twice a week and is seeing some of the bigger kids using the potty so that’s making him more interested, too.

So why am I dreading this? Because I know that once this starts, I become a hostage. I picture him needing (wanting) to go potty everywhere we go and at every inopportune time that arises. Then what do I do? Discourage him and hope he doesn’t pee in his pants? Try to freak him out about how nasty and dirty public restrooms are and tell him there are monsters in the toilets whose favorite snack is little boy butt cheeks? I’m thinking such an approach would have unintended consequences down the road. I don’t particularly want a germophobe who has to sleep with a flood light on because he’s so afraid of butt-cheek-eating monsters.

Kyle is very strong but he is a pretty small little guy. Any monster who bothered to bite his butt would be sorely disappointed. Is he going to lose his grip and fall in the toilet? Yes, I know I’ll be right there and sort of holding him up, but I’m only so strong. And does he have to touch the toilet seat? Oh vomit I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have to get a bigger diaperbag for all the disinfectant wipes, hand gel and toilet seat covers.

This post was very therapeutic and has helped me conclude that I am going to resist this fun as long as possible. Though I am sure there will be countless blog entries coming on the potty topic, hopefully I can drag my feet for a few more weeks!

Chinese dragon

I headed to Target on Wednesday with the boys and took a spin through the toy section, thinking, “I am Good Mom and am going to find a toy – one that doesn’t talk or need batteries in any way – that stimulates and excites my kids.” The toy of choice (mine – not the boys’) was a 6 foot long Thomas the Train or Tank Engine or whatever he is crawl-through tunnel.

They won’t go near it. Maybe they think it’s a toddler-eating snake that never closes its mouth, just waiting to gobble them up. Or maybe they think it’s an Alice in Wonderland deal – they think there’s a chance they could get sucked into some netherworld acid trip like Alice did. Or maybe they just want to sit back and see what kind of idiots their parents will make of themselves trying to show how wildly fun crawling through the tunnel is. Though it probably makes their fear worse because when we crawl through it, it flops around and shakes so much that the toddler-eating snake actually looks more like a Chinese dragon in a Chinese New Year parade – all writhing and partially airborne. I guess it’s no wonder they don’t want anything to do with it. I’m kind of creeped out by Chinese dragons, too.

Our double-stroller has gradually gotten harder and harder to maneuver and this morning Dave took the wheels off, cleaned them and WD-40’d them thoroughly. And I’m actually excited about this. I can’t wait to test it out and wheel around Walmart like it’s a race-track. Sad, huh?

My mom had some minor surgery this week and I’m going to visit her this weekend. Twenty-four whole hours of just me – no kids or husband. The last 2 years have been such a whirlwind of life changes for me, resulting in me rarely having alone time. Since my whole life used to be me-time that has been the hardest adjustment to bringing home my two boys and getting married in less than 10 months. So now I’m going to get some time by myself. In theory, it sounds great. We’ll see how it goes.

I found some pumpkin patches that are open today that I’ve thought about taking the boys to, but I don’t want to end up paying for an expensive 20-minute walk. Though what’s a few bucks when I’ve got my ‘new’ stroller to test out? Walmart shmalmart. I’ll take it on a real test drive.

We are the lucky ones

Fabulous news, everyone! The boys have been at daycare for two whole days so far (last Tuesday and Thursday) and Grant had a cold within 48 hours of darkening the door of the place. And being the loving and generous little tyke he is, he has shared it with Dave and me. Ahhh, it brings back memories of when they were in daycare full-time and seemed to juggle one ailment after another.

We went to a free festival at a local church on Saturday and it was a nice little diversion and most importantly it got us all out of the house. I’ve never gotten so many comments about the boys before, and while they were harmless and well-intentioned I was glad the boys are still too young to understand. Dave and I are fair-skinned and fair-haired so we definitely garnered some attention pushing around our double stroller.

I think I handled all the questions fine, but Dave and I have to work on how we’re going to respond as the boys get older. They are going to look to us to see how we respond and this is going to help them form their opinions about themselves, their birth country and birth family, and their adoption in general.

One lady came up and blurted out, “Where are they from?” and “How old were they when you got ‘em?” There is so much negative and erroneous information in the media about Guatemalan adoptions these days that it’s hard not to be on guard as to people’s intentions. I truly think all the intentions on Saturday were good, but again, it’s hard. After NPR’s one-sided and completely ridiculous story that claimed anyone can write a check for XX,000 dollars (I’m leaving out the first two numbers just because) and bring home a Guatemalan baby, I’ve been seeing red. I’ll blog about my adoption experiences another time.

The conversation that bugged me most was, again, from a well-intentioned, very nice woman. Here are some of the questions she asked… Are they twins? Brothers? Where are they from? Then came what I’m glad the boys can’t understand yet…
Woman: Thank you. (This was sad very seriously and solemnly and with her grasping my hand)
Me: (puzzled look)
Woman: Thank you. For adopting them and giving them a loving home.
Me: We are the ones who are thankful. They are the best blessing we could ever have dreamed of.
Woman: No, I mean what a wonderful life they have compared to what they would have had. You’ve given them so much. It’s really wonderful and they are so lucky.
Me: Well, we are the lucky ones.

Sometimes people who don’t have a multi-ethnic family might think we parents who have adopted children of different heritage than ours overreact and make a bigger deal of conversations like this. But we have to take seriously the impact on our kids of repeated conversations that point out how our kids and family are different. Our boys aren’t charity cases. They are simply children who, like all children, are entitled to the best life they can possibly have, whether it’s here or in Guatemala or in Timbuktu.

I can count to 3

I hope today is better than yesterday was with the kids, particularly Kyle. He has crossed some sort of behavioral threshold and it is icky. Every ugly toddler behavior seems to be in full force and it’s definitely hard to handle. I had no idea that my sweet little brown-eyed toddler who sprawls on top of me to watch the Backyardigans could be so openly defiant while looking me straight in the face.

At the mall play area yesterday when it was time to get back in the stroller, he wouldn’t come to me. He stood about 20 feet away looking at me saying “NO!” This wasn’t because he didn’t want to leave the play area – he’s the one who actually wanted to leave. I could tell he thought this was sort of funny and it was a major test. I did the count to 3 method but midway through I realized I didn’t know what I would do when I reached 3. I can not risk hurting my knee again so I can’t chase him too much, so the count to 3 approach was simply me demonstrating that I could indeed count to 3.

He darted back into the play area and Julie (Matthew’s mom) and I were trying to outsmart him, attempting to nab him as he snaked around one piece of equipment or another. So there we were, looking like we were desperately trying to lure a runaway kitten. Then what did the little stinker do but run up to a STRANGER and hug her leg. Finally I prevailed and got him in the stroller and then he was perfectly fine.

This is a mildly funny visual and all, but the rest of the day was as or more unpleasant. What do you do when your child isn’t phased when you take away a toy? Yesterday he even put a toy in timeout himself when he and Grant fought over it. Now, when I ask him if he wants to go to timeout, whereas he used to shake his head no, now he says yes. We’ll set up the pack-n-play today and hope that that makes the timeout more unpleasant.

I found a free festival at a local church that we’ll venture to this morning. I’m letting Dave sleep in because he’s been cleaning out the garage and when I got up this morning, he had built shelves and bought more and he’s really whipping it into shape. I don’t even want to know when he came to bed. It’s looking awesome, though!

Today will be a better day!

Two days under our belt

This week was the boys’ first Tuesday/Thursday at daycare. On a positive note, Grant was awesome and took to it right away. We weren’t sure how it would go since he’s going through a clingy phase, but he surprised us completely. He played all day long and laid right down on his little cot at naptime and took a nice long snooze.

Kyle, on the other hand, is let’s just say, slow to transition to this experience (translation – a mess). Let me preface all this by telling you that if I use the word ‘pathetic’ in this post, it’s pathetic in a truly break-your-heart kind of way; not in a “oh that’s just pathetic snap out of it” way.

In general, Kyle doesn’t cry about anything for long. He sheds a tear or two and flails his head in a most dramatic fashion, making sure we’re clear of his displeasure. Then he’s typically done.

Here are the highlights:
- Starts crying within a block of school and then cries in anguish when we leave
- Cries on and off throughout the day
- Every time the director, assistant or even the chef (he’s a cook) walks in, Kyle goes to them, arms up, crying pathetically; he’s just sure that one of them is bound to be his savior who has come to rescue him from the torture
- When they go outside, he paces up and down his side of the fence, waiting for Grant’s class to come outside onto their playground on the other side of the fence
- When Grant comes out he immediately looks for Kyle and starts crying for him (this is sad and all, but darn it it’s awfully sweet)
- Both times I’ve picked him up, the teacher is on the floor with kids around her and she’s reading to them. She’s also reading to Kyle, but he’s laying on his tummy, flat as a pancake, with his head to the side on a makeshift pillow. He’s listening to the story but has near-dry tears on his face and is obviously still upset.

Hopefully things will get better because I’d love to see the positive aspects of them going to ‘school’, like learning how to take turns and share more.

Lots going on in Kyle-world – I have a feeling my next five posts will be about him. In the meantime, I’m off to consult all the toddler books and websites about how to deal with temper tantrums (until this morning I actually thought we had experienced a temper tantrum; after this morning I’d have to say we weren’t even close until today) and how to get your toddler into a big boy bed because he can launch himself over the railing.

Poor Bert & Ernie

When are Bert and Ernie going to get new shirts? There’s the old advice about keeping trendy clothes after they go out of style because if you wait long enough they’ll come back in style and you’ll be a hip fashion icon. But, fellas. You’re supposed to keep the clothes in the closet until they become popular again.

To think I actually threw my leg-warmers and shiny lycra pants, circa 1982-ish, into a Goodwill bag round about 1986. Hip fashion icon I am not.

To check out the wardrobe in question (Bert and Ernie's, not my leg-warmers), take a gander at http://www.sesameworkshop.org/inyourneighborhood/

When I did a google search to find pictures of Bert and his unibrow and Ernie and the rubber duckie, I found a dark Bert and Ernie underworld. Who modifies images of poor Bert and Ernie to turn them into pot smokers, bloodshot eyes and all? Since I just learned how to post links in my blog entries and because I wouldn't want to deprive you of this inspirational image... http://www.funlol.com/pictures/high-bert-and-ernie.html

And did you know that there are websites called Bert is Evil that claim that Bert is an evil genius connected to high profile personalities? Who knew that Jim Henson was such a scheming monster? And all this time I thought Bert was just the grumpy curmudgeonly (I think I made that word up) side of Sesame Street’s of the Odd Couple, whose unibrow desperately needed some attention.

Silly me. I must learn to look at things with more of a skeptical, suspicious eye. Makes me wonder what subversive and potentially terroristic messages are hiding within my beloved Backyardigans.

Always good intentions

So last week I had this brilliant “aren’t I a great mom” idea. I scoured the internet (okay it was just one site and I knew the url before I even opened IE) and found a butterfly exhibit to go to – kids are free and adult price was $3. I packed up the sippy cups, Ritz Bitz, animal crackers and the boys and off we went.

I’ll spare you the details of all the this-road-is-torn-up-from-construction-so-I-don’t-know –where-to-turn and oh-how-did-we-end-up-driving-through-the-massive-preparations-for-The-State-Fair-of-Texas. We never found the butterfly garden because apparently it’s the most obscure, unknown ‘attraction’ in Dallas. So I decided that since we ended up in front of the Museum of Science and whatever else I can’t remember, we’d do that. Now in addition to congratulating myself for packing up the kids to do something other than walk the malls and visit play areas, I could praise my let’s-make-the-best-of-it-kids-we-won’t-let-a-little-change-of-plans-hijack-our-wonderful-horizon-expanding-adventure.

In a nutshell… maybe visiting a museum with a 1 and just 2 year old isn’t the best way to spend 30 minutes and $8.50. Kyle, my little routine-loving 2-year-old decided immediately that everything about the place didn’t suit his fancy. The way he shook his head and said “No no no” with a great deal of concern on his face is very convincing – it seemed that he was feeling anxious. Well, what mom wants to subject their kid to massive anxiety, all for the purpose of viewing a gigantic replica of a T-rex or seeing a lightning exhibit? So, I let him play me like a fiddle and we scurried through the museum like our stroller was on fire.

I had assumed that the kids’ area with the giant sandbox and all the toddler climbing stuff would be there. So when I decided that we’d go to the museum I knew that those would be a hit. Well neither were there. They did have the water table but there were crappy toys and Grant immediately picked up a cup and poured water on his head.

The whole museum was a mess and only about 50% of it was open – the rest was ‘undergoing construction’ or ‘we’re preparing new exhibits for you’. People, if you want to do anything for me, you would only charge me $3 to take a quick walk through this disappointment. So you’re thinking that I must have gone to the front counter and complained and asked for my money back, right? Nope, I just took a walk around the pond behind the museum then sulked back to the van.

But good news on the stroll around the pond! The boys got to see the big giant paddle-boat ducks getting ready for the fair, and I saw something I had never seen before. A woman in a very low-cut, skin-tight shirt had a ‘necklace’ tattoed around her neck and at the end of said necklace, on her very open-to-the-public breastage area, was tattoed in cursive some lucky fella’s name. All this time I’ve been kidding myself that my engagement ring and wedding band were rock solid symbols of Dave’s and my commitment to each other. Miss Tattoo Necklace has certainly given me a lot to think about.

So all-in-all not a great adventure, but I still congratulated myself for my get-the-boys-out-and-expand-their-horizons journey. Of course the congratulations ended when we got home and Kyle fell and got a bloody nose and fat lip getting out of the minivan, but that’s a story for another time (never).

My birthday

My first day at the new part-time consulting gig went great and I never even talked about the boys except to say, "Mine are 1 and 2", which was my part of small talk when the guy I was working with said his kids were 2 and 6. So I achieved my goal of actually focusing on work and not the boys!

Today is my birthday (36) and I just got up to cinnamon muffins (thanks, honey!), of which I just powered down two along with my bottle of Starbucks cold vanilla frappucino (how is frappucino not in Microsoft Word’s dictionary)? That won’t cause a spike in my blood sugar, will it? I’ve got to get this entry written so that I won’t worry about it in an hour when my blood sugar plummets and I pass out, hitting my head on the wall and knocking me unconscious for the rest of the day. Well, scratch that. I guess if I’m unconscious I won’t really care if I posted an entry.

I hope Dave had a talk with the boys last night before bed and reminded them that today is my birthday and that the best present I could get would be a day that’s only 50% toddler whining and defiance instead of the now-common 85 to 90%. Kyle is going through quite a phase and it’s wearing Dave and me out. Within 30 seconds of closing his door after putting him to bed, I burst into tears. Keep in mind, this was with me being gone for 7 hours of the day yesterday.

Hmmm. It’s 7:45 and Dave is still asleep and I hear the boys stirring. I wonder how I can get Dave up and sneak back in bed for a few extra winks. Should I pull the “but it’s my birthday” card? It would actually be a “but it’s my birthday and I know I got a full night’s sleep and you stayed up late to surprise me with muffins and spent all day yesterday doing laundry and taking care of the kids and you’re going to take me to dinner and a movie tonight, but it’s my birthday and my blood sugar is cratering and I just want to give you a chance to have the afore-mentioned discussion with Kyle.” I’ll have to think about whether I should play this card.

Okay, I’ve thought hard for 45 seconds and I think this is a card worth playing, don’t you? It’ll be another whole year before I get to play such an absurd and unfair card.

Back to work - for awhile anyway

I’m back from my blogging vacation. Just needed a break, I guess. Thanks for the emails and comments wondering if I was okay and why the blog entries dried up!

Today is Friday and I’m actually going to get to use my adult brain, instead of just my toddler brain – something that hasn’t happened in about 5 months. I’m starting about a month long consulting gig that will just be two days a week! I get to leave the house in something other than a t-shirt, shorts and a baseball cap! In addition to making the client think that they have never ever made a better decision than engaging me, my goal for this is not to babble on incessantly about my kids.

Most of us have worked with or know people who are apparently physically and mentally incapable of talking about ANYTHING other than their little darlings, and who spend at least 50% of their work time coordinating the Girl Scout cookie drive or the wrapping paper fundraiser. Or who tell you every new word Junior says, even though his vocabulary is up to 150 words (guilty). I long ago vowed not to be this mom. But wait a minute… my whole life has become my kids. What in the world else am I supposed to talk about???

Here are some ideas for small talk I can use if the situation arises (that don’t include Kyle and Grant):
* Minutes before Dave and I were picking a washing machine to buy last night, he decided to take ours completely apart to find the source of the mildew smell. He found it and saved us about $800, isn’t that great?
* My dogs need baths and their teeth scaled, won’t that be a hoot?
* My minivan sure is a mess.
* Wow, it sure is hot today.
* This isn’t pink eye, by the way.

Definitely not as exciting as babbling about funner stuff like the game Kyle and Grant play where they chase each other around in circle and do what I call steamroller which is hurling their little bodies to the ground and rolling on each other. Or how Kyle likes to tell the dogs, “No. Peak” when they bark (no speak). But seeing as how they are paying me to actually work and since that’s what I want to do, maybe I’ll just talk about and fix the system issues they’re having.

And then I’ll come home and blog about how Grant picks up dog hair from the floor and tries to put it back on the dogs; and how Kyle is whining incessantly, asserting his two-year-oldness; and how my neighbors took home the kitten Dave and I found in our garage and probably aren’t talking to me anymore.

Enjoy your day!
Mary Jo

Polka Palace in Cheyenne - 8/28/07

I love The Backyardigans. There must be something kind of 'off' in my little brain that this show makes me really happy. I can watch the same episodes repeatedly and not mind and last night I actually searched the internet for lyrics to our favorite episode. Favorite episode is the Polka Palace Party, by the way, and the song in question is Feeding Time.

I discovered, thanks to google, that Dave and I are merely two of thousands who love these little characters. For those of you who don’t know, they are 5 friends (a moose, a ladybug, a kangaroo-type, a penguin and an I-have-no-idea-what) who play in their backyard and have these great adventures in their imaginations. I found a blog post about how the songs get stuck in the blogger’s head and it had almost 300 comments. So, see? We aren’t the only ones.

Okay, okay, you’re probably on the edge of your seat wondering what the polka episode is about. Tyrone the moose and his pal, Sherman (the worm) have to get to the Polka Palace in Cheyenne by sundown so that Sherman can get to the surprise birthday party for his brother, Herman. Tyrone plays the tuba and loves polka music. He and Sherman set out and along the way meet and pick up the other friends who all play different music and what do you know they all love polka music. Their adventure heading out west leads to the heartbreaking development of their raft going over a waterfall with all their instruments (no worries – the buddies jumped to shore a second before the sad development). But also no worries – magically their instruments were waiting for them at the Polka Palace when they got there.

And you’re also no doubt wondering what the song is about. Pablo, the penguin, happens upon the other characters when he’s chasing a trio of runaway horses. They help him wrangle them (thanks to a toot from Tyrone’s tuba) so he can feed them, hence the song. I’ve turned it into quite a production for Kyle and Grant during mealtimes. I’m trying not to be bothered by the looks they give me as I’m yeehawing and clapping like I’m at a hoedown.

Who knew I could write four paragraphs about these little buddies? It’s going to be a sad day when the boys tire of The Backyardigans; Dave and I will then have to sneak the episodes after they go to bed. We are a wild and crazy couple if ever there was one.

No blinding sunshine here - 8/27/07

I don't have anything terribly amusing to write about so I haven't written anything in days, but I didn't start blogging so that I can be a laugh riot all the time.

It’s been four months since I left my career to stay home with the boys. Initially it was a hard transition and I was depressed, but around week 7 or 8 I started liking it. Then I had knee surgery which set me back considerably. I’ve been nicely mobile for a couple of weeks and yet find myself feeling very down, wondering if I’m cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.

I was talking about being discouraged to a friend the other day and she said, “I wouldn’t wish the age of your guys on anyone.” The boys are 24 months and 15 months, by the way. This gave me a lot of comfort because I realize that not only are these tough ages, but they are exponentially more difficult because they are 10 months apart. They are at ages where I’d like to be able to engage one of them at a time in something. Coloring, playing with a train, whatever. Everything turns into a competition for a) whatever the object or activity is; and b) my attention.

It would be great if I could engage both of them in the same thing, but given their different developmental points, this is a challenge for the same reasons I mentioned above. I do believe that this will get better, but right now it’s frustrating.

Grant is a very cute little walker. He still prefers to hold a hand, but he’ll venture off on his own sometimes. He kind of looks like a wobbly mummy – very cute! He can now show us where his ears, eyes, nose, tongue and mouth are, whereas a week ago he pointed to his ears no matter what.

Kyle gets called clown and monkey all day long depending on what kinds of silliness he’s up to. Jumping, flopping on the floor, flopping on mommy and daddy, climbing on everything, laughing, shouting and just making us laugh.

Okay, so after my first several paragraphs, those last two helped put things in perspective and improved my mood a bit. I’m still not the ray of blinding sunshine that I always am (try to stop laughing), but it’s an improvement.

What a failure - 8/24/07

I think I need to cancel my subscription to a parenting magazine I get. There are some good tips in it, but plenty of things I have found silly (and of course I didn't make notes or rip out pages so I can't enumerate them here). And if I took it all seriously I could convince myself I'm a parental failure.

Am I the only mom who doesn't care if stains set in on bibs? The article started with, "You need to presoak major stains on bibs..." Huh? I do? And all this time I had no idea that I need to do that. What kind of mom am I that I am satisfied with the bib being clean but don't care that the set in stains make it look like a multi-colored map of the world? Disgraceful.

And did you know that our kids need to see a dentist by the time they are one-year-old?!?!? That's the first time I'd ever heard that and it sounds quite ridiculous to me. How 'bout let's wait until the kids have a few more teeth, huh? Kyle had quite a grill on him by his first birthday, but there is no way I would have taken him to the dentist on his first birthday. I obviously don't care that my boys will undoubtedly end up little snaggle-tooth rejects because I waited until they were over two to visit a dentist. What a dreadful parent.

Not to mention how the magazine treats adoption topics, but that's another story.

I'm off to rouse the short people. Our friend Matthew is coming over this morning to play in the backyard. Well, I guess I'd better go get the backyard ready before the kids get up.

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo

Fashion tips - 8/22/07

The boys and I just got back from a mall we hadn't walked around before and they loved it - very colorful and bright with a lot going on. It didn't hurt that they got to eat Rold Gold pretzel sticks as we strolled.

We stopped outside the Rainforest Cafe where there is a little pond with steam and a mechanical crocodile that periodically moves, opens his mouth and growls. We sat there for a good five minutes, the boys enthralled, until Kyle actually noticed the big mouth opening and the giant teeth on the crocodile. And that was the end of that - we hightailed it out of there before a full terror meltdown could happen.

I feel old and irritated when I go by clothing stores these days. How did t-shirts that say things like this become popular?
"I'm not shy, I just don't like you"
"I'm popular, you're not"
"I am so out of your league"

Here are some of my ideas to replace them:
"I'm a jerk and wouldn't blame you if you didn't like me"
"I'm popular but that probably won't matter in the real world"
"My self-esteem is actually low - I just fake it"

I'd also like to propose a few fashion suggestions for the kids as they head back to school.
1) If I can read the size on the label of your bra, your t-shirt is too tight.
2) If I can see the hairline of your nether regions, your pants are too low AND you need some underwear.
3) If I can see your butt crack or the tattoo you have that points the way, your pants are too low.
4) The world does not need to see your stomach.
5) Don't wear jerky t-shirts.
6) Fellas, pull up your pants.

Happy back-to-school shopping!

Letter to toy makers - 8/20/07

Dear Fisher Price and every other toy maker who makes it impossible to get the toys out of their packaging,

This has gotten out of hand. I know you’re worried about lawsuits and all that, but enough is enough. The toy only has seven parts and weighs 12 ounces for crying out loud – 34 twist ties, screws, pieces of tape and plastic is a bit much. I have come up with some warning / guidelines for assembly that I think you should add to your packaging.

Warning #1: Do not say to your kids, “Look what I have for you, honey!” until you have the toy successfully out of its package. Removing the 34 twist ties, screws, tape and plastic will take you at least 45 minutes and your kid will lose their mind if you dangle it in front of them and then withhold it for nearly an hour.

Warning #2: Do not attempt when children are present. We have designed this task to make even the purest of tongue cuss at least six times. Unless a) profanity is a regular occurrence in your house so it doesn’t matter anyway; or b) you want junior to drop an f-bomb on the first day of preschool, it’s better that they are out of the house.

Warning #3: Do not use alcoholic beverages or drugs while attempting to do this. You’ll need to save that for after you have freed the said toy and need some chemical relief.

Warning #4: Use great care with the industrial-strength twist ties that we insist on twisting at least 14 times. Once you’ve untwisted the ties, don’t try to yank them hard through the little holes on the box as you are likely to hit yourself in the face when they finally come through.

Warning #5: If you are wondering why we have attached each Little People characters on the circus train using five twist ties around both their necks and their feet, you obviously haven’t seen Toy Story. We simply can’t risk the liability of the toys staging any sort of revolt or adventure while in transit.

Stop the insanity, please!

Yours truly,
A frustrated customer

Mission accomplished - 8/18/07

Today’s mission… find a harmonica. I’ve always wanted to play the harmonica but never had a reason to do it. I’m trying to learn that sometimes I can do things just because. I don’t always need to have a grand, forward-thinking reason. I don’t need to be scheduled to play at the opening ceremony for next year’s redneck Olympics in order to learn harmonica.

So where does anyone in their right mind go when they need something? You got it – Walmart. I’m not talking the little Walmart out in the sticks; I’m talking the super-duper, sushi-serving Walmart in the big city that should have everything. They don’t carry harmonicas. Two of the four employees I asked didn’t even know what a harmonica was (though they assured me once I educated them that no, they didn’t carry them).

Next try… Brook Mays, whose website describes them as “the oldest and largest full-line musical instrument dealer in the USA.” They don’t carry harmonicas. Huh? I wouldn’t expect them to have a massive harmonica department but for Pete’s sake how about a basic harmonica. They directed me to The Guitar Center.

I called there and confirmed that they had harmonicas. The heavy metal hold music almost swayed me from my harmonic goal, but I soldiered on. I had visions in my head of the clientele in the store. Not ugly or freakish people – just people who hear the beauty in heavy metal music. As I pulled up to the store I wondered if mine was the parking lot’s inaugural minivan, if my double stroller was the store’s first. Once in the store, I decided that both were very real possibilities.

Imagine if you will… you are in your favorite store and right through the front door comes a tortoise in a clown suit. Unless your favorite store is the souvenir shop at either the zoo or a circus, that’s going to seem a little freakish. So there I was, the freak at the guitar shop. Amid the sea of black – black shirts, black leather playing gloves, black music stands – there I was with my ponytail in a baseball cap with the USGA logo on it, a diaper bag on my shoulder and my two toddlers in the stroller. The good news is that they had the harmonica I was looking for. After explaining to Sloppy Joe (that’s actually what was on his nametag) that I didn’t want to be on their mailing list, I became the proud new owner of a harmonica.

Mission accomplished.

My little yappers - 8/17/07

If I hear NO or MINE one more time I think I might have to club myself in the head with a Tonka truck. Nobody told me that something magical happens the day a kid turns two. I don't mean whimsical fairy and sunshine magic; I mean dark sinister toddler magic. Yes, I realize both boys have colds and aren't feeling their best, but let's not pretend that's all this is about.

These last few days Kyle, who turned 2 ten days ago, has moments when he turns into an angry little troll (or a small yappy dog - take your pick) guarding his bridge. His bridge being whatever toy or book or section of floor he has decided is off limits to Grant. Yap yap yap. And Grant does pretty much the same thing, so I end up with two yippy dogs barking at each other until I try to break it up and try to divert someone.

They've become hip to this and mostly will not be swayed. Then 1 minute later they are having a race pushing trucks around the house, giggling the whole time.

"NO!" has become Kyle's stock response for most questions or comments. I've tried to explain to him that his NO will carry much more weight if he actually listens to what is being said or asked before answering, but he hasn't bought into it. When we were in the car this morning he saw a bird and commented on it. So then I said, "Oh, do you see th.." "NO!"

At least when I was working people generally let me finish what I was saying before responding! Oh well - I'll take it.

Enjoy your day. I hear the little people stirring.
MJ

My brain, a scary place - 8/16/07

What does today hold? Well, I've been tossing and turning since 4, I've heard Kyle over the monitor in a state of semi-sleep for a half hour, and Dave and I got up to Molly's poop on the floor. Similar to the old how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood, you may ask yourself, "How much poo could a yellow lab poo if a yellow lab could poo poo?" It can. The answer is alot.

And then to let you into the workings of my brain, I laid back down in bed which is when the aforementioned tongue-twister popped in my head. Then I started wondering how many words in the English language are both the noun and the verb related to itself. In other words... words that could fit into the sentence structure of the tongue twister. How wierd is that? Aside from some bodily functions (spit, for example), that is. For a moment I thought that fan would work (I was looking at the ceiling fan), but after inputting it into said tongue twister it fell flat. How much air could a ceiling fan fan (so far so good) if a ceiling fan could fan fan (it falls apart)?

See what staying home with two toddlers will do to your brain? Of course I act like I was totally sane before leaving my career, though random, obscure thoughts crossed my cerebral horizon regularly.

Is anyone reading this? People rarely comment on my blog and being generally insecure and needing not excessive but occasional reassurances that hey I'm okay, having 0 comments on the blog makes me question my entire existence. Allright, not really, but if you feel like it, please comment. I'd love to know if it's getting read and if you like it. You don't need a google account - just post as Other or Anonymous.

Enjoy your day. I'm off to rouse the short people. Hopefully all of our summer colds will be disappearing soon. Though I hear coughing on the baby monitor as I type. As much as I don't want my kids to be sick, I confess that I don't mind the extra snuggling and affection I get when they aren't feeling the best. Of course, I don't know how the day will go if I have two toddlers needing some extra mommy love. Oh well - I'll take it!

Awwww how cute - 8/15/07

After yesterday's description of my boys as wild animals claiming territory (which given their ages of 24 months and 15 months is rather interesting), I need to share the awwwww how cute moment of the day.

When I got the boys up from their naps this afternoon we played in Kyle's room for a bit. Lately, playing means keeping each kid focused on what he's playing with instead of what the other is (not a great deal of fun, but until we're ready to set up a cage match it's necessary). I actually got the boys playing ball with each other!!! I guided it along - Grant, throw the ball to Kyle and so forth; but I never touched the ball and it actually went on for about 10 or 15 exchanges of the ball. I'd say it was definitely the high point of my day.

Grant is now taking occasional steps - usually just one or two but today he took three!

I've overdone it with my knee today. I'm feeling so much better that I actually enjoyed putting clothes in the washing machine! So now I'm off to the couch to either read or watch Top Chef.

Later,
MJ

My robots - 8/15/07

Okay, so how, exactly, am I supposed to promote peace and harmony in my home when these two little short people aren't as interested in peace and harmony as I am? I swear they have a strategy. They'll string together several days of getting along well (translation: not biting or hitting each other) and actually playing a little bit; I am then lulled into thinking that this is how it is going to be... My wonderful children get along great and this whole parenting thing is going to be a breeze. Some parents have kids who beat each other up and constantly harrass each other. Not me, no way, no how. Mine will be the family others envy.


Have all of you experienced parents picked yourself up off the floor yet? Go ahead - I'll wait. Okay, feel better, now?

They are both hyper-focused on each other and then I think their brains turn them to robots. MUST. HAVE. KYLE'S. TOY. The last few days have turned it up a notch - now if one of them has a toy and the other one looks with even a slight glimmer of interest, the first one screams in warning. I feel like it's some wildlife special where the alpha male barks out a warning to approaching males that hey pal this is my territory. Maybe I could film them and market it to people who don't have cable.

It's been 5 weeks from my knee surgery and I finally think I've turned a corner recovery-wise! The physical therapists at the center are adding more strength exercises to my routine which have helped immensely and I'm definitely encouraged. My general outlook definitely was in need of that.

Enjoy your day. I'm off to rouse the short people.
MJ

No more pictures - 8/13/07

It’s a sad reflection on the world today that Dave and I have decided to remove all pictures of the boys from my blog. Placing them on the blog makes the pictures completely usable by anyone for any reason, as someone I know recently found out when she discovered entire myspace pages devoted to her two and five year old daughters, including over 200 pictures she had posted on her blog. Is it likely anything like that will happen? No. Is it worth the risk? Absolutely not.

Please stick with the blog as I’m still going to keep writing! Just no more pictures.

Balance - 8/10/07

Kyle's birthday party (actually more of a small family get-together) is tomorrow and I actually managed to order the cake more than 24 hours in advance. After getting an attitude from the bakery lady in May when I ordered Grant's less than 24 hours ahead about how they have 50 cakes to be ready by Saturday morning and sigh, she just didn't know how it was all going to get done. My, "Okay, so does that mean that you can or can't do it?" snapped her out of it, but I figured I'd better behave this time.

My mom is coming today for the weekend and she hasn't seen the boys in a few weeks. She's not going to believe the changes. Kyle runs around like a monkey, jumping for no reason and smiling from ear to ear; one of his favorites is to jump up, land on his butt then fling his legs up and over his head. He's saying more understandable 'words' now which is very fun to hear. Grant is now making the signs for more and airplane and loves to give kisses.

The other trick Kyle loves to do a lap through our living room and sitting room and then fling himself onto my stomach as I lay on the floor. He has taught Grant, who isn't yet walking, to step up on top of my stomach and stand. I figure with all the extra padding (fat) my tummy has, it's bound to help develop the boys' balancing skills. I could do some crunches and get it in better shape, but then what kind of parent would I be, robbing my children of such a critical developmental skill?

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo

Setting an example - 8/9/07

I've known this day was coming but I buried my head in the sand and pretended it was months off. I thought I was safe for a bit longer. Kyle has been mimicking me for quite some time, but it's always been the good fun stuff. I've wondered several times, "Okay, when is he going to pick up the other stuff?"

Yesterday, he copied me when I chewed my cuticle (gross, I know). I'm not a nail chewer but I can't leave my cuticles alone. He copied me one time a month ago when I was messing with a cuticle with my fingers, but he only did it once. So I suppose things must change. The chewing and the knuckle cracking (something that grosses me out when other people do it, but that doesn't bother me a bit when I do). It's a good thing I'm not a nose picker - we'd be in real trouble.

What I'd rather say is, "Son, you don't get to chew your fingers. You see, mommies are very smart and they have the mental capacity and judgment (why isn't there an e in that word?) to accurately assess when a cuticle needs specific attention. Someday when you're old enough to vote, you too will be able to make such decisions. Until then, don't."

Another double-standard I've realized is playing with food. While we let him experiment with textures and mixing up his food, we try to discourage certain things like picking up food, raising his hands and dropping it to his tray - that's just too close a step to launching it onto the floor. So I don't make a big deal of it but say, "Oh, let's not play with the food." And then two hours later, there I am at snack time with animal crackers, making them gallop across the table to take a flying leap onto his tray or into my mouth; or having two of them run towards each other and kiss. I'm just going to tell him that those antics are not playing with food; they are more along the line of educational play and Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Of course then I'd have to make them fight.

I have made the goldfish crackers eat each other which Kyle quickly took to. To let you into my messed up brain, I was sitting there thinking, "Is cannibalism only when humans eat each other or does it apply to all animals?"

Enjoy your day. I'm off to ponder cannibalism and to question why judgment isn't spelled judgement.
Mary Jo

Happy Birthday, Kyle! 8/6/07

Kyle is 2 today!!!! Happy Birthday to my little brown clown! He gives us such joy and it's so fun to watch his personality change and mature. When I first started staying home back in April, we had a rough adjustment for the first couple of months. He could barely look at Grant and when he did, it was strictly for the purpose of making sure that his teeth would make a direct hit on Grant's arm. And 'time-out' had become Kyle's middle name. Now he's only going to time-out every two or three days. BIG progress! It's fun to see the changes, especially when the changes are improvements in behavior.

My friend, Laura, and her two girls leave tomorrow to go back to NC. I wondered if seven days was too long to have four kids (three of whom are toddlers) all together and had some concerns that some or all of us would get bored, restless, cranky or just plain tired of each other. But it has been a wonderful visit and not at all too long. I'll post more pictures tomorrow. We've gotten some really cute ones of the kiddos.

It's interesting what I've read on a few of the blogs I follow lately because they've expressed some of what I've been feeling. I started my blog to hold on to my sanity right after I left my career to stay home with the kids and it definitely helped in that regard, plus Dave's parents were out of town for three months so it was a good way to help them keep up with the kids. But now the question arises... what is my blog supposed to be now that I'm adjusting to stay-at-home mommyhood? In a word, I have no idea. I think I'll just do what I did originally - type what's on my mind and hope that it is at least mildly interesting to someone. I'm open to any suggestions!

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo

What a liar - 7/31/07

A friend of mine once told me that no one will turn you into a liar faster than your kids. You get so excited when little Lulubelle first claps or plays peek-a-boo, then later takes a step or does the hand gestures for Itsy-Bitsy Spider, so you want to share your glee and show off your little genius.

No matter how subtle you are about baiting them into doing their new accomplishment (because you don't want them to feel like a circus performer) they suddenly become paralyzed or mute. This even happens with behavior that's not much to brag about. An example, Kyle is playing with something that every time makes him scream when he gets to a certain task, so I whisper to Dave, "He gets so mad at this part." And what happens? Nothing.

This morning Grant did the cutest thing that made us, and him, laugh hysterically (he flung himself onto a huge stuffed dog that tumbled over on top of him). So I grabbed the video camera, at which time he decided to move on to the talking Elmo phone which, trust me, doesn't make for fascinating viewing.

Dave is off today since Laura and her two girls are coming from NC this afternoon. Kayla is two months older than Kyle (Annelyse is six) so I can't wait to see what new things Kyle will be doing a week from now. It's always fun to watch them pick up new tricks, err, I mean skills.

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo

Random - 7/29/07

So I've been doing alot of reading with the extra time I've had to lay around with my knee elavated. I borrowed some books from a friend who, like me, has varied taste in books. I just finished a book set in China in the early to mid-1800's and it was fascinating (Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See). It had a great story line about a deep friendship, but it also had all this cool stuff about the customs like footbinding and the role of women in that society. I got to read a great book and pretend I was doing something intellectual at the same time.

Now I'm reading a John Irving book, The Fourth Hand, and it is odd odd odd, but entertaining. One character is a handsome, womanizing TV journalist who is doing a fluff story about a circus in India and while holding out his microphone for viewers to hear the lions roaring, gets his hand chomped off by hungry lions, (at which point the cute blond German sound technician faints into a pile of raw mutton that is meant for the lions) all caught on camera and watched repeatedly the world over.

The other character so far is the oddball hand surgeon who is going to do a hand transplant on him. You would not believe how many pages have been spent so far describing the hand surgeon. He is a near-anorexic compulsive exerciser who is obsessed with the evils of dog poop and whose favorite thing to do when he is running along the Charles River in Boston is to scoop up dog turds with his old lacrosse stick and fling them at the rowers (he thinks rowing backwards is absurd). The great news is that, courtesy of his nutso ex-wife, he ends up with a dog (he hates dogs) who eats everything - sticks, paper, garden hose and best of all, his own and other dogs' poo. (No, the dog's name isn't Molly and she doesn't live in my house - our Molly would never touch sticks, paper or garden hose - she had standards after all). And I'm only on page 70.

I'm sitting at the desk with a giant stack of papers that need to get filed or action taken in some way and what am I doing but writing a blog entry? My friend, Laura, is coming from NC on Tuesday with her 6 and 2 year old girls so Dave and I are frantically trying to get things cleaned and organized, all while entertaining a 1 and 2 year old! On the topic of the boys, they have been such a dream for the last month. Kyle just spent all of snack time sharing with Grant, and the biting has dropped dramatically. We'll see how things go when there is another toddler in the house in a few days!

I guess I'd better go. Enjoy your day,
MJ

Poor little Roo - 7/26/07

The other day I was sitting on the couch and Dave was on the floor reading a musical Pooh Bear book to the boys. Not really reading the real words (because it’s actually a sing-a-long and I try to encourage Dave to not sing) but making things up. This involved talking about all the characters on the page and what instruments they were playing.

I hear him talk about Pooh, Tigger, Piglet and Ratlet. Ratlet???? I kept my mouth shut because I wanted to see just who he was talking about and I didn’t want to interrupt. So I get my hands on the book a bit later to look for the rat who had infiltrated the Pooh Bear book. Nope. No rat anywhere. He thought sweet little Roo (Kanga is the mom and Roo is the baby Kangaroo; he’s the same size as Piglet) was a RAT!

Here’s a picture of Pooh Bear, Roo, Piglet and Tigger. Does he look like a rat to you?!? My poor kids are going to think that the Hundred-Acre Wood is the home of pig-sized rats. Or maybe they are kangarats. In all seriousness, it was rather endearing and now Roo has a new name in our house.

Enjoy your day,

Mary Jo

Dinner out - 7/22/07

It is going to take me weeks to get the kids to recover when their Grammy leaves. They are having so much fun and Grammy caters to their every whim. My mom has told me that her primary goals are to have fun with them and to keep them from screaming, though not necessarily in that order. Mom assures me that this is a grandmother’s perspective and Grandma (Dave’s mom) backs up this claim.

My mom has been such a HUGE help the last 10 days that if she wanted to give the kids fudge for every meal I might be tempted to let her. She and Dave’s mom are definitely earning grandmother points for their help :-)

I hobbled out of the house on Friday night to go to dinner with Dave’s family. These people know how to pick the restaurants. Whereas I can lead you to the local Chili’s, Macaroni Grill and plenty of Mexican restaurants, they are up on multi-star restaurants such as the one on Friday night - The Oceanaire at the Galleria in Dallas. Fish is flown in everyday from everywhere – fish that you’ve never even heard of. It always intimidates me to go to places like this because I never know what to order and I’m not really excited about looking like the village idiot who only eats at Long John Silver.

The food was unbelievable and the six of us sampled each other’s dinners – all were great. Bobby and Gina (Dave’s brother and sister-in-law) go there often and have cultivated a relationship with a superb waiter who made it a wonderful dining experience! Even though my knee was ready to go home by the end of the night, getting out was exactly what the doctor ordered.

We’ve taken some cute pictures lately – I’ll post some tomorrow.

Enjoy your day!
Mary Jo

Too much Diego? - 7/20/07

You can tell I’ve been around kids and Go, Diego, Go! too long. When I woke up and saw my bright red eye, the first thing that popped into my head was, “I look like the baby alligator with the injured red eye on Diego.” And how sad is it that Dave and I actually get excited when there is an episode of Diego, Dora or the Backyardigans (the only three shows the kids watch) on that we haven’t seen? Pretty funny, actually – not sad.

I got my stitches out this morning. I think I offended the doctor because I didn’t shake his hand when he came in (he always shakes hands which I think is nice – he actually makes eye contact and doesn’t talk to me like I’m an idiot – big plus for a doctor). I have pink eye and I didn’t want to risk giving it to him. I explained that to him but I still think it threw him. I seem to get pink eye, or something masquerading as pink eye, every six weeks. I do everything I'm supposed to like throwing away all my makeup and even getting a new eye mask / shade (I sleep with one to block out any and all light). I think I'm going to give up the mask for good because it seems like being locked in there every night is giving all the eye critters ample opportunity to reproduce and eat my eyeballs. Fortunately, Kyle, Grant and Dave haven't had pink eye since Kyle and Grant left day care back in April.

Grant took his first sort-of step on his own today. I can’t officially call it walking yet, but it was definitely a step.

Enjoy the day,
Mary Jo

Miscellaneous - 7/19/07

I am tired tired tired of being cooped up in the house with my knee still healing. I guess I'm more frustrated because I'm not spending the same quality and quantity of time with the boys. When I am hanging out with them it's hard for me not to get on the floor and play. And Kyle has figured out very clearly that when I am sitting on the couch with ice on my knee the chances of me getting up to put him in timeout are lower, so he's having fun calling my bluff.

Grant is going to walk any day now. He lets go of things and hovers for a few seconds and he loves holding onto hands and walking. Today he is down to just holding one hand! He may beat my theory that he's going to walk on July 29. Kyle walked when he was 14 months and 6 days old and that's how old Grant will be on 7/29. At least they'll be close so in 10 years when someone asks how old my boys were when they started walking I only need to remember one number.

Kyle is saying new words every day. My favorite thing is Waaaa-woooo? which means Where are you? If he's looking for something you better believe he walks around saying this over and over again. Yesterday when he couldn't find Grammy, he said his version of "Oh well." Too cute.

My friend, Laura, and her two girls are coming in 12 days from North Carolina! That's why I started physical therapy this week instead of waiting until next week - I want to be as healed as possible for the visit.

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo

To moms at the mall - 7/16/07

As I’ve been laid up for the last several days recuperating from knee surgery, I’ve had time to compose a fantasy letter to the moms at mall play areas.

Dear Moms,

I realize that malls and mall play areas are the refuge of stay-at-home-moms (SAHM) everywhere – an oasis in the desert of our lives of all kids, all the time. But I’m afraid that some of you are bad play-area citizens.

Moms, let’s review the rules.

1. Your kids are still your responsibility. There is no magical threshold at the play area entrance that makes them everyone else’s responsibility. The “it takes a village to raise a child” concept doesn’t apply to play areas.

2. If your head is lolled over to one side and you’re drooling, you’re not paying enough attention.

3. Play areas are not for big kids, they are for little kids. There is a reason that amusement park rides have a measuring stick at the entrance with a minimum “you must be at least this tall” requirement, don’t you think? Well there is a reason that there is a measuring stick at the play area entrance that says “you can’t be any taller than this”. Big kids and toddlers don’t mix.

4. Play areas are a great place for you to teach your kids some lessons about respecting others and thinking about their actions. The future directors of overcrowded juvenile detention centers will thank you for this.

5. If your kid even comes close to decapitating another, this may be a good indicator that you should get involved.

6. If you see behavior like that in number 5 and are too lazy or disinterested to do anything about it, have the decency to look away quickly when it happens. Better that the other moms think you are not paying attention.

7. Get off your cell phone.

8. If you are on the cell phone and another mother who doesn’t even know you has to catch your runaway kid or keep them from doing something dangerous, get off the phone and fake embarrassment. Don’t look irritated at the other mothers for interrupting you.

9. If your kid is 13-years-old and weighs more than you do, he’s too big for the play area.

Thanks,
Mary Jo, mom to the 1-year-old your kid almost gave a concussion to and the almost 2-year-old who was terrified at the mere presence of your towering giant

Knee surgery

My knee went out yesterday and my hopes of putting off surgery for a few more weeks are dashed. Surgery is tomorrow so I'm taking a few days off from blogging. Hold a good thought for me!

7/6/07

I’ve been feeling kind of emotional about the boys lately – a good kind of emotional.

Kyle has the biggest, brightest smile I’ve ever seen. His laugh is like a drug to me and I can’t get enough. To hear him chattering incessantly when he’s riding in the car is like hearing the best music; I have to control my urges to constantly look at him in the rearview mirror. He’s our clown and our little monkey.

Grant is turning in a little ham. He loves to do something cute and then look back and forth from Mommy to Daddy to get confirmation that, yep, they still think I’m cute. This is also what he does when he’s throwing a fit or shrieking – just wants to make extra sure that everyone is paying attention.

I’m not sure what it is about the last few days that I feel especially overwhelmed with love and gratitude. I’m not skipping around the house and giggling like a child with glee and happiness. I just feel quiet and thoughtful. And grateful.

Good night,
Mary Jo

No need to blur - 7/5/07

I'm sitting at our new desk in our bedroom. When Grant came home last November we actually thought he and Kyle would be sharing a room within a few months so we could temporarily deal with having limited access to our office area / guest room. He's been home eight months and it's clear that he and Kyle won't be sharing a bedroom anytime soon, so we're moving our stuff and actually giving Grant a room he deserves. All he does is sleep in there - all the playing and living happen in the rest of the house - so it's been easy to ignore all the junk we have in there and justify not decorating it (I know this makes many people cringe), but he deserves to have his own space.

Yesterday was the 4th of July and we mostly relaxed. We went to the pool for a whole 60 minutes before the storms moved in. We tried a new section of the pool area that winds around and the water flow kind of pushes you along. Grant loved it. Kyle liked it fine but about every two minutes a big giant 4 trillion gallon bucket dumps out and if you're in the wrong place (or the right place depending on how you look at it) when it happens it's loud and unpredictable and, well, wet. Kyle's not wild about big loud unpredictable things. I'm not sure how he tolerates me :-)

After we got the boys home and took their suits off, we let them run around naked for a few minutes, something we'd never done before. Who doesn't love the sight of little baby butt cheeks? We took a few cute pictures and I figured we could always blur the pictures to hide their little willies (highly technical medical term), but there's no need. Why? you ask? Well because neither boy would let go of himself, if you know what I mean. So basically, we got pictures of our kids touching themselves. Sigh.

Grant isn't the best napper in the afternoons even though he clearly needs one. So take a tired almost-toddler and add in his teething and the 4:30 to bedtime window becomes rather unpleasant. He's managed to find a pitch, tone and volume for his screaming that he should probably win some sort of award for. This afternoon's meltdown was super-sized and Dave almost ran screaming from the house at one point. He's the king of patience and compassion so you know if it gets to him, it's serious!

Dave was off today and I got to have some me time. This morning I went to Barnes & Noble and then Half-Price Books all by myself! Then after lunch Dave took the boys to the mall for a couple of hours. I had big plans for what I could get done with some time here by myself, but Molly (our yellow lab) came and told me that the rain on the skylight in the master bath was just too loud and scary and would I mind coming to lay down with her and Katie. So what choice did I have? As an animal lover I couldn't ignore such a request and had to snooze with the puppies as the rain hit the skylight. The sacrifices I make are truly staggering.

Enjoy,
Mary Jo

Stop on red, right? - 7/3/07

Today was a good day. Two days in a row and Kyle was only in time-out once! Unfortunately, his teeth made pretty solid contact with Grant's arm the one time he bit him, but Grant would probably get confused if there wasn't some sort of souvenir on his arm all the time.

We met Julie and Matthew at the mall for our morning walk today. I can't walk fast because of my knee, but we stroll for over an hour; sometimes we stop and the kids play. This morning there was quite a wild little banshee girl who almost took Kyle's head off when she was jumping around. In fact she just about injured all three boys in various ways so Julie and I decided that since her mom or nanny was too busy on the cell phone to worry about the fact that their little firestarter (I'm predicting the future) was out of control, we'd get back to our walk.

At what age can kids grasp the concept of red light / green light? Kyle wants the van to be moving all the time and when it slows down or, heaven forbid, stops, I hear, "Mommy. Go. Mommy. Go. Mommy. Go." at least 12 times. I explain that we stop on the red light and can only go when the light is green. Keep in mind I'm not sure he's totally got his colors down so I'm reaching here. I'm telling you, this is driving me nuts. It is nonstop. I found myself today mapping out the route that had the least traffic lights to try to minimize this. How sad is that? I think part of the problem is that in Kyle's mind, what he's doing is working.

How am I supposed to explain the concepts to a less-than-two-year-old when there are so many variations? Honey, we stop when the light turns red and can only go when it turns green. Except we can take a right on red after coming to a complete stop so in that situation disregard the rule. Oh, and when we're in a left turn lane, all the lights can be red except the little green arrow in which case we can go. All the lights in front of you that I normally tell you to look at can be red and we will still go (just like you want to). Oh and don't forget when the traffic light is malfunctioning and blinking red... then we actually go through it (after stopping completely and listening to you demand that we go).

Before I had kids I had no idea that I would spend so much time thinking of something so mundane. Of course I also had no idea how these little people whom I adore, whose curiousity I find fascinating, whose determination is often endearing can drive me absolutely nuts. On a more mundane note, that's an odd phrase as are its variations... drive me nuts, drive me batty, drive me ape sh$% (my late dad's personal fave).

If you think about it, you just fill in a noun of your choice at the end of the phrase - drive me . I think I'll try my own variations over the coming days.
* If I hear 'Go' one more time it's going to drive me bridge pylon.
* The dogs are driving me paintbrush.
* The neighbor's singing is driving me frog guts.
* Dave is driving me candle wax.

Dear reader, you really must try this as it's quite therapeutic.

Yes, these are actually things that go through my head. At least I'm never bored, right?

Enjoy your night!
Mary Jo

Personal space - 7/1/07

Here I sit on the couch, breakfast goo on my shirt courtesy of Kyle and Grant, writing a blog entry with Kyle sitting next to me desperately wanting to get his grubby little mitts on the keyboard. Dave and I decided that he has to learn at some point that the laptop is a No-Touch zone even if it's right in front of him. Yeah, good luck to us.

Yesterday was a rough day at our house. LOTS of screaming and crying and just a general got-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-crib kind of day.

Our class at The Little Gym was good; Kyle has gotten better about sitting in the circle when we're singing songs but he sure likes to get out on his own when it's time to get on the equipment. He does not like the teacher to touch him at all, but I suppose I really wouldn't want a stranger manhandling me either. He definitely likes his personal space.

Whereas most parents use a trip to the store to start teaching their preschoolers the concept of money, I'm going to have to teach Kyle how to deal with people who come up behind us in line at the grocery store and pretty much stand on top of you, completely invading any and all personal space you hold dear.
Step 1: Do a triple-take looking behind you at the person, then lean your torso forward with a horrified look of "Dude, you'd better jump back"
Step 2: See how slowly you can pay. Act confused about the process in order to draw out the transaction.
Step 3: When you enter your PIN on the card swipe machine, lay your body across it so your pal behind you can't see. Not that he would look, but you want to clearly communicate, "You must be trying to steal from me since you practically have your chin resting on my shoulder."
Step 4: Do a single-take, crinkle your face and say, "Do you need something?" or say, "Dude, I'm married." Of course, the latter really wouldn't apply for Kyle at this point, or wouldn't apply for me if it's a woman in my zone.

If none of those work, you're just out of luck and your best bet is to move along. Then jump him as he comes out of the store.

Okay, back to yesterday... after Little Gym it was off to Costco which we like because they have shopping carts with two seats so both boys can ride side-by-side. After shrieking almost all the way there, he decided to continue the trend inside Costco which made us quite popular with the other shoppers. I joked with a grandfatherly man in the produce section, "Would you like to take him home?" He laughed and shook his head NO so fast I'm pretty sure he either got whiplash or injured a vertebrae in his neck.

Today the sun is actually shining for the first morning in about two weeks. If I were the complaining type I would mention the steamy humidity but thank goodness I'm not the complaining type! Hopefully a little sun will help everyone's mood around here. Even Dave and I snapped at each other yesterday. Of course that lasted about 90 seconds and we were over it, but I'll blame that on the weather, too. I think we're going to try out the pool at the rec center today.

Dave made awesome fried rice last night - mushrooms and the chicken-apple sausage that jumped in our cart Costco (funny how random obscure things like to come home with us sometimes). He's hit some major homeruns lately and I told him that if I weren't already married to him, I'd be inclined to take the leap based solely on his cooking.

Gotta go clean my closet. Yippee.
MJ

Nothing too clever - 6/27/07

The shrieking continues. Dave and I were hoping it was a fleeting thing but I guess I'm going to have to bust out all those toddler-rearing books. We don't know whether to ignore him (Grant) when he does it, scold him, or run screaming from the house. When the screams seem frustration driven, I try to help him figure out how to solve or work around whatever problem he's having. He screams regularly during mealtimes. The mealtime shenanigans seem to be him testing us. He's not very subtle about it. Shriek and scrunch your eyes closed oh and don't forget to flail your legs. Then open your eyes and look from Mommy to Daddy. Sometimes smile.

He's trained Kyle on shrieking, too. A few times in the last couple of days they start this screaming volley, like they're hitting a tennis ball back and forth. It's so loud and I envision it escalating into a cage match so I usually jump in and try to divert their attention. Maybe tomorrow I'll just let it go and see how long they can keep it up. When I played tennis as a kid, sometimes we didn't keep score the real way; the challenge instead was to count how many times we hit the ball back and forth before messing up. Maybe I'll do that with Kyle and Grant screaming back and forth. It might be less irritating if I'm actually cheering for it to go on as long as possible so we can set a record.

It's still raining. The boys and I went to IKEA today and as I was pulling out of the driveway I could see dark clouds behind me. My first inclination was to say oh forget it and pull right back in the garage. Getting the two boys in or out of the stroller and getting the stroller folded or unfolded is NOT fun in the rain, so unless there's some compelling reason to do it, I try to avoid it. But it's been raining on and off it seems like forever, so I've decided we're just going to have to get wet.

Tomorrow afternoon we're going to see my friend, Heather, from college and her 5 year old, Hayden. She and I email a few times a year and until today, we hadn't talked on the phone in a few years. It's so easy to lose touch. They are down from NY visiting her folks in Keller so the boys and I will head over there after lunch. I'll try to remember a camera so I can post pictures. Hayden is really into Harry Potter and Spider-man and Buzz Lightyear so I'm guessing Kyle is going to learn a lot tomorrow.

I went to the knee doctor yesterday and I'm going to have to have surgery, but he gave me a cortisone injection in hopes that it would buy me several weeks. I can definitely tell a difference today - not perfect but much better. I somehow managed to fracture a bone on the top of my foot and there's some sort of bone fleck / spur (his words) on the top of my foot which is why my foot has hurt so much in the last week. He came in the room after looking at the x-rays and said, "Now, you're sure you didn't fall? Or trip? Or drop something on your foot?" It's a mystery as to how it happened, but he gave me an injection there also and hopefully that'll be the end of the foot saga. Leave it to me.

Enjoy your day,
Mary Jo