Lipsie the Elf

Here's a question: have you ever heard of the Elf on the Shelf? Yeah, me neither... at least not before about five weeks ago.

In late November I was chatting with some friends on Facebook about Christmas traditions and one women mentioned this elf thing and being curious I googled it and low and behold this thing is everywhere. I had never heard of it before and now I see, hear, and spot these little elves all over the place. It's very, very Shrodinger - maybe we should have named the elf Shr odinger. Or cat. Cat would have been a nice name too.

I'm nursing the end of a terrible cold and it's getting late so I'll cut to the chase. The kids get to name the elf, and I love, love, love the name that Turbo came up with for this little lady: Lipsie. When I told Turbo that it was our job to name our elf, he didn't hesitate. It was like, it was her name, not that he gave the name to her. I'm famous amongst my friends for naming things, so it fills my heart with pride that the apple didn't fall far from this tree. :)

It is the job of the parents to move Lipsie into a new location each evening, or at least before the kids get up (more on that later) - under the guise that the elf flies back to Santa each night to report on the good and bad choices made by our children. If she can fly, it would, of course, make complete sense that she would settle her little elf butt in a new place each night. Let me just note here that moving the elf has not been an easy task to track.

It's December and we're busy and there have been mornings when I mutter obscenities under my breath and stumble downstairs just ahead of my kids to move the elf. Thank goodness no tiny Lego pieces have been in my path or the obscenities would have been loud enough for all to hear, including my kids, and including Lipsie, who undoubtedly would have made a special day-time flight up to the North Pole to tattle on this new member of the Naughty List. But, so far so good, and I have my husband to thank for that.

In fact, my husband is way, waaaay into this. I have come downstairs some mornings and can't find the darn elf and wonder if she fell to the floor in the middle of the night and as my blurry morning brain takes in the room, my eagle-eyed son shrieks, "There's Lipsie! I see her!" as he points to some new location that I clearly couldn't reach, being five-foot-two-ish... or maybe she can fly!

So to give you an idea of the creative locales, here is a comparison. I hope to post more photos of all the locations, but here, at least, is a starter set:

Lipsie, day one: mom places her atop stereo. Rather dull, really.

Lipsie, day 20: dad has her riding Bullseye (only because she wouldn't fit on a giant dinosaur, but I bet he gets the dinosaur to work tomorrow night)

I told Turbo the other night that Lipsie will go to live with Santa at the North Pole again on Christmas Eve and that we won't see her again for awhile. He was visibly upset. Good thing Santa is bringing him a Spider-Man action figure. That'll push the memories of a little girl elf to the very bottom of his 'things to worry about' shelf.

Merry (almost) Christmas!

Mourning

The phrase 'not in my backyard' has been ringing through my head since noon when I learned that there had been another school shooting today. But this isn't another anything - these were little babies, six years old many of them, and things like this are not supposed to happen, not in real life. No. No!

I pray for you, families of Newtown, CT

My eyes nearly swollen shut, my heart heavy, my legs leaden as I walked to my car to get home to my own family. I was finally brave enough at 10 PM tonight to watch some news footage and the first thing I heard was "this kind of thing doesn't happen here."

Where? You mean on earth? Because that is where it shouldn't happen. This is not OK and my thoughts are still very scattered and difficult to summarize except that I know one thing: I will hug my kids too tight tonight and tomorrow and for every day of their lives. I will look them in the eyes and tell them they are loved and that I see them and that they are beautiful.

I love you, Turbo, and all your wickedly delicious four-year-old smarts. You are my first born, the one who made me a mother, and I am fiercely in love with you.

I love you, Smiley, you beautiful creature full of charm and personality and the kind of hugs that I can still feel late in my work day. You meld into me and we are one.

Precisely Six

Turbo: "Mom, my watch is a six!"

Me: "Hey, that's cool. It does look just like a six."

Turbo: "No, mom, it is a six."

You may notice that I put a lot of exclamation points at the end of Turbo's sentences. Do not think this is accidental or inaccurate. He is fond of exclaiming this discoveries with much ado and I would not want to misrepresent him with a lowly period.

Where Milk Comes From

Oh, it's begun it has. I have such fond memories of my parents asking my sister and I questions that made us ponder and guess and struggle to serve up the right answer. Questions like, "Where does beef come from?" When our parents finally admitted that meat comes from animals, I think the first guess when asked again about the beef was a tentative, "Giraffe?"

Sometimes I think I had kids just to hear the funny things they say.

Tonight at dinner Turbo declared, "Cows give us milk."

Ooh, goodie! A perfect opportunity to see where his kid logic would lead...

Me: "How do cows give us milk?"

Turbo, matter-of-fact-ly: "It comes from their bodies. They give it to us from their bodies."

Me: "Where in their bodies does milk come from?"

Turbo: "In their bottoms... where the babies are also."

Me: "The babies are in there too?"

Turbo: "Yes and the babies will never, never, never come out of there."

Me: "Why won't the babies come out?"

Turbo, shrugging: "Cuz they don't."

One Foot in Front of the Other

There is an old Depeche Mode song that is ringing through my mind and I'm realizing that I'm not at all sure what the song is about, but the lyrics that speak to me tonight are this:

By putting one foot in front of another

And repeating the process

Cross over the street

I've been away from this blog for a while. I mentioned a couple of months ago that our lives were going through some adjustments, and at that time in mid-Summer I had every intention of getting my swing back quickly and vowed to write more often.

Best laid plans and all that... fast forward two or three months and it's now the downpour season in the Pacific Northwest (officially known a Autumn) and it's been really hard to sit myself down to write.

I think I've been afraid to begin, to take that first step. Would I remember how to bring cohesion to scattered thoughts? Would I be interesting? And, gulp, would I still be funny? Believing steadfastly, of course, that I was funny in the first place.

As always, it's not for lack of material. Turbo still inspires moments of utter bewilderment at how powerful a force his wit is. He's four years old now and in pre-K and into Legos (the teeny-tiny kind that make you yowl(!) when you step on them in the middle of the night) and he's got a good rhythm of vacillating between the good, the bad, and the hilarious. Yesterday, for example, he didn't want to finish his breakfast and exclaimed with overly dramatic flair, "Mom, if I eat one more bite my skin will fall off!" And gave me a look that said, "Duh!" You'll have to trust me that there was some logic behind this odd claim.

Smiley, oh wonderful, beautiful, calm Smiley. She is now two years old, talking all the time, and proud to share even the dullest observations like, "Mommy, Daddy's eating," and "Mommy, my chair is right there." I guess when you finally get to speak the same language as all those tall people surrounding you every day there is no need to hold back any thought in your head. Let the words flow, baby girl. Bring it.

And, so, I don't necessarily have something profound to share tonight. I merely needed to start writing again. This is where I belong. Writing is in me and it feels good to compose again. I have a few half-written posts that dribbled in over the past few month and I may revisit some of them later this evening. Better yet I should save them up for a night when I feel I have no topics stirring my fingertips.

Thank you for reading. Oh, and the Depeche Mode song is called Compulsion. But I'd put good money down that at least some of you already Googled that. ;)

I've taken the first step and now it's time to lather, rinse, and repeat the process. Cross over the street.

Sponge Nap

Kid logic at its finest:

One evening last week I couldn't convince a dusty-bodied Turbo that he needed a bath. We don't do baths every night in this house, but this was a night when a bath was unquestionably needed and, for whatever reason, my darling boy had no interest.

Thus began the negotiations. I got it down to the minimum requirements of feet washing and bum washing. The rest... who cares, right?

Me: "Turbo, you don't have to take a full bath, but we need to take a small bath. You don't have to sit down. It's called a sponge bath."

Turbo: "OK." [sure wish he could be this agreeable when broccoli is on the table.]

To be fair, I didn't use an actual sponge so in hindsight I can see how the following conclusion was incorrectly made.

On Sunday, when it was time for Turbo's nap, I heard Turbo coin a new term called "sponge nap."

We're in a lovely transition period around here where Turbo doesn't always take a nap. I call this transition "a taste of purgatory," as Turbo gets increasingly nutso as the day and evening wear on and it's not always tea and roses and I'm convinced I must be paying for sins of my adolescence.

I told Turbo it was nap time.

Turbo: "I don't want to take a nap. I want to play."

Me, stifling a sigh: "You don't have to sleep, but you do have to lay in your bed quietly."

Turbo: "I don't want to take a long nap. I want to take a sponge nap. And then I want to play."

It took me a minute to realize that, in Turbo math, short = sponge.

Kid logic = Kidlogical = love it!

What is This Sadness?

Hi. I'm a mom.

There are some moments when I feel like I have no other identity than being a mom, and please don't think I'm complaining, as I usually mean this as a good thing. Right now is one of those moments.

This past month has had a lot of new challenges for our family. My husband hurt his knee and so most of the parenting and house work and school drop-offs and pick-ups, etc. has fallen on my shoulders. The first week I felt like Super Mom (look at me go, world!), the second week I was exhausted and, guiltily admitting, a little resentful of this imbalance, but by the third, fourth, and now fifth week I've adjusted to my new normal.

I'm calm and happy most of the time. I do hit my limits and need breaks, but mostly it's OK. I'm more confident with spending a great deal of time with two very busy kids, and I can even go to public parks and calmly handle them running in different directions (hint: bribes work).

My job is one thing that has been a little trickier. I've been able to stay on top of my projects and yet it's also been feeling like this juggling act might result in a ball or two smashing to the floor. So, I've hired some help. I beg you not to assume I have a ton of money. I do not. But time is a resource just like money and right now I'm trading one for the other.

Tonight I am working in our office - at home - while our helper/teacher/friend is downstairs with my adorable children.

And I miss them. I miss Turbo and Smiley and all their turbo-ness and smiles and too-much splashing in the bath and I-don't-wanna's streaming from their lips - yes, both kids are loving the word "no" these days, although Turbo still whines when he utters it and Smiley simply says it with a smile, naturally.

I did put Smiley to bed tonight as I couldn't stand not to have that last snuggle and hear her say, "Ni-night, mommy," as I walked out of the room. Sweet contentment. Now it's Turbo's turn and while this sometimes drags on and can be challenging for me to remain sweet the entire time, I still miss it. I'm sitting in this office, and I closed my work laptop to write about my kids. As soon as he's asleep and our wonderful sitter leaves, I'm sprinting down there to snuggle with my baby-who-is-almost-four.

I love being a mom.

Miracle of Miracles

Let me get right to the point: Both kids are asleep before 8 PM. Did you hear that? Both kids. Before 8. Have pigs flown? Is there ice in Hades?

This has pretty much never happened in our home and I almost don't know what to do with myself. Scratch that... I know exactly what to do with myself:

• Remove contacts, wash daily grime off face - alone, and moving as slowly as I'd like
• Look my husband in the eye - and linger without being interrupted
• Read in bed - something other than Horton Hears A Who (Girl With a Dragon Tattoo!)
• Sleep - and set the alarm for an interval greater than 8 hours

I've mentioned in previous posts that there is a story to tell about my husband. Let me give you the highlight reel. He does this for recreation: 

Amazing, right? And he was performing this amazing skill a couple of weekends ago and hurt his knee. When I say 'hurt' his knee, what I really mean is he broke and tore the ever-lovin' crap out of it and now is on crutches and requires surgery and some lengthy physical therapy. Ouch. Sweetie, I am so very sorry this happened to you. :(

This event has required our whole family to adjust to a new routine, and while I think we're getting the hang of things, I haven't had 8 hours of nightly sleep for two weeks. I've been lucky to get 6. In this house I don't always get 8 hours, but I can usually squeeze in a few of those nights each week and I really miss that guarantee.

Dear Smiley and Turbo, please sleep through the night. I wish you peaceful dreams of lollipops and gumballs and bouncy balls and trampolines and all the things that would make you want to linger in your beds come morning.

Thank you and good night. My book is waiting.

Supermom Moments

I love those moments when I feel like a super mom, or, better put... Supermom. I will admit I am also learning to love the many moments when I am not at my best because those are often more memorable and rife with opportunities for growth. More on that to come soon.

Tonight my Supermom moment involved a very poopy diaper. Yes, I know, eww. But it's a good story and I'm proud of this success so please bear with me.

Smiley is a very good sleeper. There have been two times that I can recall where she pooped in the middle of the night and slept right through it. The first time was maybe six months ago and I happened to be in the room trying with all my might to get Turbo to sleep. I remember there was an unmistakable rumble from the crib across the room and I thought to myself, "uh oh." I was able to change her that night with little fuss, and I thanked my lucky stars that I was in earshot of the explosion. Can you imagine the poor little red bum that would have suffered had I not been there?!

Tonight was also one of those poops-in-her-sleep nights, and on this occasion I was able to change her without waking her. Such a feat should not go unpublished.

I entered the kids' bedroom to arrange the pillow and blanket on Turbo's bed - to move him from my bed to his bed, by the way, as this is our new norm - when I smelled the signs that she'd done it again. Sleep has been really, really important in this house lately (still need to tell my husband story to elaborate; it's coming, I promise) so I said a little prayer and got to work.

I set up shop in the dimly lit hallway: nigh time diaper, plenty of wipes, extra jammie bottoms justincase, and some diaper ointment so as not to take a chance on her having a sore bottom in the morning. Then I snuck quietly back into the room, pulled my lead-weighted beauty into my arms and threw the blanket over her head.

Let me pause here to say how wonderful it is to still be able to snuggle like this with one of my kids. Turbo is a sleepy-time snuggler for sure, but he's all tall and wiry now. Smiley is getting bigger, but still kind of chubby and delicious and she loves to cuddle. I will opening weep for and miss these days when they are gone.

I laid Smiley on the hallway floor and put her blanket over her head. She squinted in the low light, coming from pitch black, no surprise, and that's about all the fuss she gave me. She barely moved and it was the easiest diaper change I've had with her in about a month. This is a girl on the go and I usually have to change her whilst she stands and plays with toys or points out our big bay window at the dogs walking by.

Thanks for making me feel like a Super Mom, little Smiley. I think you're super too.

The Nap Resister

I was lucky enough today to go out to breakfast with two of my sisters and together our group consisted of seven humans, only three of whom were paying for their own meals. So you could say it was a bit busy with non-stop entertainment and wiggling and spilled milk and requests for bacon and... Let me just say that we had one of the most understanding waitresses I have ever personally encountered since becoming a mom. I tipped her well.

The downside to this fabulous breakfast was that I hardly looked my sisters in the eyes... maybe a quick glance in between, "please stop that" and "yes, your bacon will come soon." I'm pretty sure none of us achieved a complete thought, at least not out loud, but as my sister so aptly put it, "distracted meals come with the territory."

The restaurant was the Brown Bag Cafe, a local favorite for its huge and delicious portions and its kid-friendly dining, and I got a reminder of how popular it was when I arrived at 9:30 AM and tried to park. In the end it only took 5 minutes, but that is only because I found a spot that no one else had noticed because the parking lines had faded into near oblivion. Lucky!

My sisters weren't so lucky as it took them 15 minutes to find a spot. Turbo and Smiley were really well behaved inside the waiting area, and that is quite something as we ended up waiting for over 25 minutes for our party of seven. They were on the verge of turning to the dark side when our name was finally called. Phew.

The meal was wonderful and long overdue and the story I really want to tell here is one that took place on the ride home. We left around 11:30 AM - two hours; sheesh! - and that threw off my plans to make a quick stop at Target before rushing home to put Smiley down for a nap. At this point I knew Smiley would fall asleep in the car, and she did, bless her little heart.

Turbo was another story. As Smiley was drifting off to sleep, Turbo asked me, "Mom, can I watch a movie when we get home?"

Me: "Sure. First you need to take a short nap, though, and then you can watch a movie."

Turbo: "That's not gonna work."

Me: "What's not gonna work?"

Turbo: "That thing you just told me."

Me: "Which part?"

Turbo: "The part about me sleeping."

That kid slays me. In the end, though, he fell asleep in the car too and it was Turbo who kept on sleeping as I put him into bed and it was Smiley who bounced and jumped and laughed in her crib post-car-sleep. I got her up and took her to Target while Turbo slept a good, long, nap. After which he watched The Polar Express. Nothin' says summer like a good Christmas story.



*Notice there is no mention of my darling husband in this post. He is semi-unable to help with the kids these days and that is a story I need to tell too. But not tonight. Tonight I need to get to bed and sleep so that I can greet my adorable children for breakfast.

Busytown

One of my all-time favorite Richard Scarry books is "What Do People Do All Day?" So when I was browsing our local toy store for a birthday present for one of Turbo's classmates, I was thrilled to come across this treasure and I swooped it up and brought it home.

I am pretty sure it was published in 1968 (I'm in a rush to get to work this morning so I can't double-check like I'd like to), and so you have to give it a little breathing room for being a snapshot in time. I was, however, a little surprised at how often the mommies in this book were stay-at-home moms who were given gifts by their work-outside-the-home husbands for things like "doing a good job keeping the house clean."

I tend to skim over those parts so as not to overly influence my kids on what it used to be like for a lot more women. So much more to say here, but, again... rushing to work.

As Turbo descended our front porch steps this morning I said to him, "Have fun at school today."

He paused, turned around, and said, "And YOU have fun at work." And he smiled.

I love that smile.

Almost Two Weeks

Argh. I can hardly believe it's been this long since I last posted. We've had a few too many poor-sleep nights, where I sometimes just cannot drag myself into the office to type.

I think about it every day; I write in my head... does that count as daily writing, writers?

So much to report too... Turbo told his first joke, Smiley learned to jump and land solidly on both feet, Turbo had his first field trip (it's really all about the bus), and Smiley is showing her almost-tantrum-twos colors. Ah, yeah, we're gonna have another two year old soon.

I simply must find more time, make more time, to write these stories.

Until then...

Pre-K, Day One

This week we saw Turbo 'graduate' from pre-school to pre-K. The kids in the pre-K class are supposed to be a little more capable, more thoughtful, and more... mature???


[INTERIOR. EVENING. DINING ROOM TABLE]

Daddy: "Turbo, what did you do in your first day of your new class?"

Turbo: "I farted."

Daddy, stifling a laugh, "Uh, did you do anything else?"

Turbo: "I farted a lot." Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw.


Yep, folks, we have ourselves a boy. No doubts about that.

The Force

We attended a backyard BBQ on Saturday. Turbo wanted to wear his Star Wars shirt - awesome, two cool points for that - and when we arrived, Turbo used the shirt to get to know the other kids at the party.

Star  Wars shirt = conversation starter

Turbo, pointing at his chest: "This is a Star Wars shirt."

Slightly older kid: "So what."

Go The F**k To Sleep

I actually read this book to Turbo tonight. I modified the words (of course!) and spoke in a zen-mellow-jello voice to lull him to sleep.

I bought it for our Kindle about a year ago when the hubbub first appeared on the Internet(s) and the only reason it was discovered tonight was because Turbo had zero interest in reading his real books and I was desperate for something low-key to wind him down.

He wanted my phone and, instead of flipping my photo gallery for the nine hundredth time, I remembered I had a full-color "kids" book on my Kindle app. Ah, yeah, here we go. I'm convinced he'll see the humor in me reading this to him when he has his own kids.

After I finished reading it, he said to me, "Thank you, mom, for reading me that nice book."

He didn't fall asleep to the book, it was more like 38 minutes later. He is so this little kid.

Bad Choices

When I arrived at our kids' school this afternoon, I was greeted by an unfamiliar little fellow who apparently knew who I was.

Fellow: "Turbo made bad choices today."

Me: "Oh? What did he do?"

Fellow: "He hit me and threw a block at me."

Me: "He did? I'm sorry that he did that."

And then little dude smiled and skipped away, following his grandmother down the path toward the parking lot.

Oedipal Proposal

Oh, it happened all right.

Our son Turbo has been expressing strong preferences for mommy lately and this morning at breakfast, the topic of marriage came up.

Turbo, hugging and kissing my arm, "I thought we should get married."

It was sort of a question and sort of a statement of fact.

Daddy whispered to me later, "No way, Turbo. This one's mine."

Feelin' the love. :)

New Bug Species

Editor's Note: This story was originally titled, "New Bird Breed," as mommy incorrectly thought this was a Poof 'Bird.' Mommy has since been corrected and now knows this is a Poof Bug.


This is a Poof Bug. I bet you didn't know that. Me either, but our kids go to a really good school and they are teaching us so much about the world.

Poof Bug - and Smiley artwork on our napkin holder

Turbo made this Poof Bug at school today and was so proud to bring it home. He was holding the poof bug as I buckled him into his car seat and then he waved it in front of Smiley's face. Sometimes an older brother needs to show off his art skills so as to inspire a younger generation.

"Bwoo!" declared a smiling Smiley (she knows three of her colors now and blue/bwoo is her favorite to exclaim upon a sighting).

Turbo changed the subject back to him, "Can I watch a movie when we get home?"

I delayed the answer until I was buckled in and exiting the parking lot. He asked again, of course.

Me: "I don't know; you'll have to ask Daddy when we get home. Daddy is in charge."

Turbo: "OK."

Then, after a brief pause, "Daddy is poof bug in charge. I am in really charge. So we can watch a movie when we get home."

I did not respond because he had no idea how right he was. Daddy and Mommy are so not in charge of our lives. The kids rule our universe. Mommy and Daddy are just poof bugs along for the ride of a lifetime.

Froggie Friend

On Sunday we got a new housemate. He is green, wittle-tiny, and likes to hop.

New Friend

To be fair, he isn't living in our house, but rather outside near the deck and parked on a leaf.

Smiley, who loves animals above all else, squealed with delight over and over and kept reaching out to touch the frog. I love how much she likes animals. My dad once told me that I loved animals as a kid. Maybe most kids are like that, and I still love believing that I share this special bond with my daughter.

We were at the park the other day and as we exited the car, Smiley headed straight for the swings - which she calls "weeee!" btw, so very appropriate. She stopped mid stride when she saw a "woof" (a dog to you and me). She ran over to the dog, squatted down on her hind legs, and shrieked with delight while pointing at his nose. The owners of this, and all the other dogs we encounter on our outings, were very sweet and seemed to enjoy someone else being so enchanted with their pets of choice.

Smiley and I enjoyed our new froggie friend while Turbo was still napping. When Turbo awoke from his nap, I excitedly told him I had something cool to show him on our deck. I was trying to coax him outside.

Turbo: "Tell me what it is. Tell me right now."  (ever the charmer, that one.)

Me: "Turbo, it's a really, tiny frog. You want to see it?"

Turbo ran to the backyard and commanded that I show him the location of said frog. When I obeyed, the frog was posing exactly as he is in this photo.

Turbo: "He's ours now. He hopped to our home and now he lives with us."

And then it dawned on me that the frog hadn't moved for about 30 minutes and I started to get scared that maybe Mr. Frog wasn't alive and while I began plotting how to explain froggy heaven to my kids, Turbo took care of it for me by shaking the branch that belonged to the leaf that was hosting the frog.

Gone.

After a brief pause to ponder his actions, Turbo said, "He's gone to be with his own family." And then Turbo wandered a few feet away. While Turbo's back was to me, I found the frog setting up camp on the leaf just below the one from which we'd launched him. Phew.

I thought Turbo had moved on to play with chalk or ride his trike, but then I heard him muttering a bit. Here is the part I caught.

Turbo: "Sometimes I like frogs; sometimes I don't. I made a mistake." Oh, my heart.

Me: "Turbo! I found him!"

Both kids came running and we all smiled at each other, proud and happy once again when we saw our froggie friend doing just fine. Smiley squealed.

Turbo: "He came back! He likes it at our home now."

It's About the Writing

Or at least that is what I keep telling myself about this blog of mine. But instead of typing out a funny story of Turbo wearing a new paper/staple/pipe cleaner/tape bug-like headgear thingy home from school today, I started messing around with the format of my site.

Boooring.

I'm not entirely happy with the new look, but I have to leave it alone for a while now as it's gotten frustrating and the fun has been sucked right out of it as if Debbie Downer had been sitting next to me, guiding me into a yawn-fest of 1's and 0's.

When I first began this journey - holy cow, over a year ago! [note to self: celebrate!] - I chose Google's Blogger over WordPress because I wanted the ease of an online experience and didn't want to download software. I'm now questioning my choice, but it's not one I want to ponder now.

A new book awaits:

On Dreams

It's been a long time since Turbo shared his dreams with me. I'd almost started to wonder if he was dreaming at all. I have yet to google when kids start to dream, but I don't need to. I have proof from the source. (Plus, do you ever feel Internet fatigue... I get tired of being lazy and searching for my answers when I might have them already rattling around my own head.)

Out of curiosity, I read through a couple of my older posts about Turbo and his dreams (Proof of Dreaming, and Part Two), I noticed a pattern that when Turbo sleeps in a little longer than his usual 6 something'o'clock, this is the magical time when dreams take shape. It makes sense. From what I remember of college psychology classes, dreaming happens most as we're in the light sleep just before waking. (Again, not googling to confirm - oh, what freedom to stop caring about accuracy for a moment.)

This morning my husband and I woke to the comforting sounds of rain pelting down on our roof. I smiled when I realized my kids were still sleeping (in their own beds) and I could breathe in the rain-soaked air from our open window on this rare quiet morning. I have always loved the sound of rain and welcome its presence in my life more than I usually admit to my affected-by-the-lack-of-sun friends. Seasonal Affective Disorder is no joke, but I don't seem to have it and I love, love, love the cleansing power of rain. I'm pretty sure I live in the right area of our great country.

When I finally ventured into Turbo's room to wake him for school and raisin bran (not in that order), he reached out for my arm, eyes still mostly closed, and pulled me into his bed for a hug. So sweet is he who wakes gently and slowly. Here is our conversation:

Turbo, unprompted, "I got on a school bus."

Me: "You did?"

Turbo: "Yeah. I sat in the drive-- where the driver..."

Me: "You sat in the driver's seat?"

Turbo: "Yeah."

Of course you did, my little director. You love to be in charge.

Me: "Who else was on the bus with you?"

Turbo: "Nobody. The kids weren't there." He paused and reconsidered (I assume he might have actually still been in the dream and was playing with the story a bit). "My kids were on the bus too. They sat in back... in front..."

Pause (oh, how I  hope he was molding the story with his wise and powerful mind).

Turbo: "We went on a trip."

Me: "Where did you go?"

Turbo: "I can't ma-member."

And then it was over and he was awake and pulling me out of his bed to go eat some of that raisin bran.

Here's to you, my man in charge. May you always steer with precision.

Time Out Turbo

Tonight it felt like our household was starring in an episode of Supernanny.

I've never been 100% sure if a 'timeout' is the right method for our Turbo, or for either kid for that matter as Smiley will start to break the rules soon I'm quite sure. I know there are other approaches, but we've used timeout with varying success. Turbo does not like timeout at all and will avoid it at all costs... which I guess says that it is effective.

I've seen episodes of Supernanny where the parents will use timeout for the first time with a willful child and the show will count how many times the child got up from the 'naughty spot' and had to start over with their 3 minutes of timeout. It always seemed to me that the show only counted when it was really, really bad.

Um, yeah, I think some records were broken tonight at our house. I didn't count, and maybe I should have just to get it on the record books. Hello, Guinness?

Let's recap with some highlights:

• Turbo called us, "stinky and poopy" about a dozen times.
• He begged us, "stop chasing me around the room like that."
• He stole the timer once, believing that it was the key to stopping this timeout nonsense.
• At one point he was up and down so much that I stopped resetting the timer and handed it to Smiley as I changed her into her jammies. She loved that and made it beep-beep-beep with rapid succession that almost confused poor Turbo.

In the end, just like on every Supernanny episode that features a timeout, our child sat quietly in the same spot and timeout eventually ended.

When it was time for bed, which was just a few moments ago, he drifted off into sleep faster than he has in a long time. Tantrums'll do that to ya.

Where Does The Time Go?

Ugh. I miss blogging on a daily basis. I was born to write. I need to write. But where-oh-where am I going to find the time?

I have a writer's voice in my head. It's a welcome balance to the other noises cluttering up my brain, like complex Calculus exercises and ever-changing strategies to clear out the piles of stuff in the garage.

So, here I am, not sure if I have anything specific to say and still finding the need to hear the clack, clack, clack of the keyboard beneath my fingertips. It feels good.

I'm working my way up to another staycation. The last one, reported on in January, was chock full of potential with mediocre delivery on that promise. I think I even opted out of blogging the last two days of my five day respite. That's because little Smiley got sick and while I spent three good days clearing and organizing and being blissfully alone, the final two were spent with a feverish sweetheart attached to my chest. She slept, I watched really bad TV. I didn't complain because that is my job as a mom, to be available when my kids need me. I love it when they need me.

I also love being alone. It's so rare these days to get a full day to myself, so when I do I really live it up. I'm a planner, too, so I'm already making lists (love lists!) of possible ways I can spend my time while I'm off of work next week.

I have learned not to overpromise what I think I can get done in a day or a week. I used to make lists and assume I could get it all done. Not anymore. I make a list of options. Each day I wake up and decide which options I want to accomplish that day and I also enjoy adjusting my expectations throughout the day so that I'm not ever (well, almost never) feeling disappointed with what I did or didn't complete. It's all about quality of life in those precious all-by-myself days. I do not need the added stress of being too hard on myself with unrealistic expectations.

Maybe this staycation I'll get massages and pedicures and catch a couple of movies... in the theatre, no less.

Ah, the sweet possibility of doing whatever feels right in the moment. It's-a gonna be a good one.

Winnie The Poop

My daughter can't be the first kid to mistake "Pooh" for "poo-poo," but I am still getting a huge kick out of it. Definitely an LOL moment.

A few weeks ago Smiley got really interested in potty training - we're not training her yet - as the slightly older kids in her school use the toilet with doors wide open and teachers wipe their bottoms for an audience. She stares impolitely and points, "poo-poo."

She's been saying "poo-poo" a lot since she learned it, and just like any new word or skill she is really proud of her accomplishment. The other day her brother dropped his pants (as boys will do) and she walked around to the back of him, pointed at his bum, and said, "poo-poo."

What could I do but cheer her on with, "Good girl!"

I love to sing to my kids and we've been on a Winnie the Pooh kick lately... Deep in the Hundred Acre Wood...etc.  We even bought a DVD and it's been fun to sing both of the songs that I know (T-I-double-Guu-Er being the other). I tend to go for the old Disney version, like so, "Winnie the Pooh. Pooh! Winnie the Pooh. Pooh! Tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff..."

It was Smiley to helped me recognize that the echo "pooh" in "Winnie the Pooh. Pooh!" is basically guilty of calling this beloved bear a piece of sh**. Oops.

Yesterday when I was singing this song to her, Smiley was loudly and proudly saying "poo-poo" as if she were my back-up singer. We're thinking of taking the act on the road this summer.

Mother's Day

My precocious 3.5-yr-old chose today to first utter those three little words every mother deserves to hear on Mother's Day... "I hate you."

Yes, folks, it actually happened.

The morning started off so well. My husband let me go back to bed for about an hour while he made scrambled eggs and pancakes and managed our two little darlings. Turbo woke me up with kisses and a tug on my hand, saying in a sweet sing-songy voice, "Come on, mom. Breakfast is ready."

Turbo peppered my arms with more kisses as we stomped down the stairs. Smiley's tiny feet slapped the kitchen floor as she ran to me for a hug - I love that sound - and she reached her arms up to me and exclaimed, "Mama!" as if I were the person she most wanted to see in the whole wide world. Kisses, hugs, a little extra sleep (alone)... ah, bliss. Best Mother's Day ever.

As we at our yummy breakfast in harmonious peace, I opened my cards and cried a couple of happy tears at the love poured out in crayon. The cards were barely tucked safely away from maple syrup sticky fingers when, rather abruptly, Turbo ran downstairs and announced that he was going to watch a movie.

Me: "Not until everyone finishes breakfast. Please come back up here until we're all done eating."

Turbo, first with a loud sort of screaming noise, then: "I hate you guys!"

Silence.

Dad: "And there it is."

Seems the gift from my husband is very timely and appropriate:

In lieu of flowers, please send drinks.

Sweet Secrets

Tonight I overheard Turbo whispering to dad in the kitchen while I played with Smiley in the living room. My husband was kind enough to share the secret, although I won't tell that to Turbo. I want to make sure he trusts me enough to share future secrets with me.

Turbo: "Dad, if you behave I'll give you lots and lots of ice cream that you can give to me."

How to Win Friends

... the Turbo Edition.

This story is from my husband so it's told second-hand, but I bet I got it right.

Turbo has been really into being bad lately. He's developing this interesting black-and-white view of the world that I hope he outgrows. I live in the gray zone, as I feel life is not in absolutes. But he's his own person, so perhaps he'll trend this other way... kind of like his dad. :)

When he chooses one book over another, for example, he'll say, "I don't want that one. It's a bad book." Or, if he wants to watch The Red Balloon instead of Curious George (which he watches a lot and loves), he'll remark, "Curious George is a bad one." And all of these bad comments are accompanied by a dramatic scowl that Turbo has perfected with much practice. Future drama student?

My husband took Turbo to the park this morning before lunch. It's a glorious sunny day here in the suburbs of Seattle and that means we do everything we can to be outside as long as possible. We play, eat, and even pee outside (if you're Turbo), so we can avoid the messy house and coo at the splendor of our area bathed in sunlight. Ahh, bliss.

Not our actual park, but thank you, Google.

While the boys were at the park I took Smiley to Whole Foods for a couple of forgotten grocery items. I made it a quick trip so as not to be indoors for too long. She makes even the grocery store a bright spot. Love my little girl!

When we returned from the store, Dad and Turbo were putting lunch on the table (thank you, honey) and when I asked my husband how it went, he told me the following story.

There was one other kid at the park. This kid walked up to Turbo, who was playing with a steering wheel on a climber - pretending it was a boat I'm guessing - and when the kid got close enough, Turbo said, "This is a bad boat. I'm going to poke you in the eyes."

The kid just walked away.

Atta boy, Turbo. Way to make new friends.

Blowin In the Wind

It is my duty to pick up the kids from school at the end of the day. School is probably an overstatement, as they are 1.5 and 3.5, but it is a school and there is a curriculum and I sometimes get to giggle when I call it a school, so that's what we say. Tee hee.

The benefit of picking up the kids is that I get to drive straight to work in the morning, skipping most of the bad traffic, and tuning into my choice of radio stations - usually it's anyone who is talking, as I am not interested in music that early in the morning.

The downside of being the picker-upper is that I get the kids at the end of a long day and it's sometimes complete and utter chaos. I'm usually so busy chasing my two kids (Smiley knows how to run now) in two different directions and I'm so focused on each of their bodies barreling down the hall that it took me a while to notice that the halls are full of other parents engaged in the same craziness. There was an audible sigh of relief when I realized it wasn't just my kids. Phew.

I would like to note here that my kids are very well behaved. Ahem, for other people. I get glowing reports of their manners and the please-and-thank-yous that escape their lips at all the expected moments. One of my favorites from about a year ago was when Turbo reportedly said the following after music class, "Thank you, Miss Ashley. Thank you for playing the piano."

Who are these kids, and may I please spend some time with them?

Yesterday, after wrangling a kicking Smiley into her car seat - complete with crocodile tears I might add, a shining example on her cheeks that I am one mean mama for not letting her run into traffic - and after begging Turbo to get into his car seat, and then resorting to "I'm going to count to 3... 1, 2, thr--"... we finally settle in for the 5-minute drive back home. Once in their seats, they are little angels. Night and day. Heaven and hell.

At home I unbuckled Smiley and she leapt into my open arms with the sweet and gooey greeting I'd been longing for. And so I kissed her and cooed at her and blew air softly onto her sweet little face. She blew back and we giggled together. Ah, bliss.

We repeated this sentimental exchange several times as we approached the other side of the car to unleash, I mean, unbuckle, her brother. As Turbo climbed out of the chair, he stood on the edge of the car and watched Smiley and me for about a milisecond before blowing a raspberry and spitting on me and getting his sister to do the same. It was a raspberry spit, so fairly benign, but the juices flew all the same.

What had begun as sweet mom-and-daughter play time ended in mom getting showered, spit in my eye thankyouverymuch, and Smiley and Turbo guffawing hysterically as if they'd invented humor.

Preschool Financial Wisdom

I don't know how it happened, but we seem to be teaching Turbo some lessons on money without any real plan or intent. I hope we don't mess up his financial future.

Some background:

1. Turbo has developed this lovely little habit of flicking the lights on and off (and on and off and on and off). I've tried various methods to get him to stop. No dice.

2. One time last week when Turbo asked if he could get a special treat at the store on the way home from school, Dad replied, "Do you have any money?" - the next morning as he woke in his usual half-awake grogginess he said to me while rubbing his eyes, "Mommy, can you help me find my coins?" I was a little lost until I heard the story of how special treats = money.

3.We had dinner at a local restaurant on Saturday night with some friends. There was an enormous gumball machine in the lobby and when Turbo asked if he could have a "ball" we said to him, "That costs money. We don't have any money right now." Uh, what? I can't always explain the things we say as parents.

On Sunday, Turbo was doing his on-off-on-off trick with the lights and this time I tried reasoning with him.

Me: "Please don't do that. It wastes money when you turn the lights on and off and on and off. We need money to buy things like food and toys."

Turbo: "And balls at the restaurant?"

Me: "Yes, and balls at the restaurant."

Later that day I was washing dishes while Turbo ate a snack at the kitchen table. He got my attention and I'm so glad I turned in his direction to witness the visual that went along with this statement.

He blinked both eyes as hard as he could - on, off, on, off - and said, "Mom, this wastes money."

It's Been A While

Dear Blog,

I have not forgotten you. I think about you every day and have composed rough drafts in my head quite often since we last had contact. Not that you would know this.

It's just... well... March has been a rough month. If I were to sugarcoat it I would say something like, "Oh, ya know, it wasn't the best month." If I wanted to tell the truth I would say something more along the lines of, "March kicked my ass and I'm weary and exhausted and I want April to come roaring in and take over and shower me and everyone I know with kindness and goodness and laugher and love."

It's been hard to find the right words to express the grief that has pounded my friends and family this month. I haven't been sure I could or would write about any of this on something as light and fruity as a blog.

Death. Grief. Death again. More grief. These are not the topics I typically explore with you, my silly blog. But I am affected and I am grieving and I am sad and I am mad and I am desperate for answers on how I can protect my children.

I know they do not belong to me. I know one of the most important jobs I have as a parent is to let them go, to raise them to be self-reliant and independent and able to survive on their own. They are supposed to leave me. I feel both privileged and heart-broken that this is my role. I'll do it, though. I love them fiercely and I will do this.

This grief that has settled into our world has caused me to hug my kids more tightly, to stare into those hazel eyes and marvel at how they even got here in the first place. I've also stopped fighting with my husband over unmade beds or spilt milk. My life is like a sieve, where the smaller, unimportant pieces have fallen away and all we're left with is the big stuff, the stuff that matters like love and hugs and laughter and the now.

Heaven. Eternity. Reincarnation. The Afterlife. These worlds swirl around in my head alongside their less fabulous counterparts like hell, mourning, and organ donation. My mental ping-pong has been exhausting, zipping from one topic to the next with dizzying speed. And then it settles once again where it should settle: on my family. And I feel peace in knowing that we are together for now, for as long as we get.

Kahlil Gibran said it with more poetry than I could ever match.

On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

Stuck in the Middle

When your brain wants two conflicting things, you can give yourself a real whopper of a headache.

My daughter, now 18 months, is a really good sleeper. I am overjoyed by that because it took my son forever to really be a good sleeper. I think he was two years old. Right now I mostly have two good sleepers and I thank my lucky stars because I've been on the bad side of that more times than I care to count. Counting would just depress me and I prefer to remain blissfully unaware of how many fractured nights of sleep I have endured. Note to self: do not do the math.

This week I am craving cuddles with my kids more than ever. I want to hold them forever and never let them go. It's been a bad week, and I'm still struggling with how to or whether to write about why that is. For now I will say that I am staring at my kids more, hanging on their every word, and marveling at their perfection even when they are Mr. and Mrs. Crabby Pants.

This week I have made sure that I am the one putting Smiley down for the night.  I look forward to a few minutes of cuddling, to whisper "I love you" into her curly locks, to sing the same songs my mom sang to me, to read a nostalgic book like Runaway Bunny, and to basically bond with her so she knows without a sliver of a doubt that I am the best mommy in the word... and what does she do? She sits in my lap for all of a millisecond, wiggles down to the floor, waddles over to her crib, and points. I barely get a glancing kiss on the back of her neck, nevermind a kiss on those perfectly chubby cheeks, before she practically dives into her crib, and snuggles with her stuffed pig and says, "Bye."

Yes, folks, she actually says, "Bye." Not, "night, night" or "mommy!!" or gibberish. For this independent young lady it's a brush-off-esque, "Bye" and she's in her own world.

It would be unwise for me to complain about a child who so easily puts herself to sleep, and who is also a solid 11-hour-sometimes-more sleeper.

But I ache for another cuddle.

Tomorrow, little one. You will be mine and my arms are waiting.

Life

Is

Worth

Living

Recipe: Banana Bread

This banana bread recipe has been in my possession since college. It was written by one of my two roommates and we used to bake this quite frequently in that ill-insulated little house of ours. I'm not entirely sure how I lucked out on getting sole ownership. Gee, I hope I didn't steal it...

Recipe - Banana Bread

It's so simple and delicious, yet I am curious if there are better or at least healthier recipes out there. Note to self: ask friends on Pinterest and Facebook.

Banana Bread Recipe:

1) combine:
1/2 c. butter
1/2 c. sugar

2) add 2 eggs

3) add 2 large or 3 small bananas - and you know I mean the mushy kind, not the green ones. A banana has to be about a week past where I'll eat it for me to transform it into bread.

4) mix and then add:
2 c. flour
1 tsp baking soda

Bake at 350 for 1 hour

optional: add semi-sweet chocolate chips:

chocolate chips added

Gratitude

Some moments are filled with perfection, brimming over my proverbial cup until I'm overwhelmed with waves of gratitude.

Here I sit, snow falling outside my window, and my house is unusually quiet as I stare into the white void and smile. My boys are out shopping for new shoes, and my darling daughter has just gone down for a nap. I'm alone and that in itself is something to be grateful for.

our backyard

And yet there is more. Jazz is playing on the radio, the good kind, and I start humming the tune before I realize why I know it so well.

This perfect song enters my world and tears fill my eyes.

There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all

This song always makes me hyperaware of the current moment. The lyrics are plump full of yesterdays and tomorrows and it's that contrary blend that steers me into the now. I am all at once grateful for all that came before, for what I have now, and for the future I can't predict. This song requires my full attention and for that I am rewarded with a be-here-now moment of Zen.

I feel both cheated and grateful that my father is no longer with us. It's coming on nine years since his passing and while I would prefer he be here on earth with me, there is something important about having him on my side, on the other side, that grounds me in a way that nothing else can and jolts me into full awareness that life can be cut short. I don't think I was one to ever take life for granted, but I also believe I must have done some of that in my capricious youth. It's inevitable.

If my father hadn't died when he did, I may not have moved back to Seattle when I did. I wouldn't work for the company I work for, I wouldn't have met my husband, and I wouldn't have been blessed with these exactly-right-for-me children who have chosen me to be their mother.

If I am to be grateful for the now, I must embrace all that came before. Each step, each choice, each misadventure all led me to be sitting here in this moment, in a quiet home, watching the snow fall, and counting my many blessings.

In my life, I've loved them all.

Brown Eyes, Green Poop

Ah, the benefits of preschool strike again.

Turbo blurted out this phrase the other night and laughed pretty hard after doing so. I had to know more, but I may regret my investigative impulse this time.

I got him to repeat the phrase and then I asked a few key questions to uncover the mystery. Here is the fascinating, and a little bit gross, result.

Turbo: "Brown eyes and green poop! Hahahahaha!"

This is what he was talking about:

I guess now is as good a time as any to quit eating ice cream, what with Lent is upon us and all.

Author and Illustrator

I love it when this is my method of finding out what my son is learning at preschool. I usually forget to read the weekly flyers of the subjects they are discussing. Turbo fills me in.

Last night as I was about to begin reading books to Turbo before bedtime, he asked me, "Who is the author and illustrator?"

Olive You

"Mom, I have olives in my eye."

I thought I misheard him until I looked over to see Turbo poking himself in the eye. He was smiling, so it must not have hurt too bad.

I asked him, "Does it feel like an olive when you touch your eye?"

Turbo replied, "Yeah," and then laughed a good and silly laugh.

Owl Says What?

I've been practicing animal sounds with Smiley lately. Oh, how I love this age where they can say "moo" and "woof" and bathe in the delight of learning something so simple and sweet. Smiley squeals with happy laughter when she knows an animal or its sound. I could listen to that sound all day.

The sound she knows best is an owl. Come to think, she's been saying, "hoo hoo" with the cutest pursed lips for a couple of months now.

It's because of this enormous talent of Smiley's that I tell you this tale of Turbo. We have this new box of Kleenex® by our kitchen table and so at dinner tonight I asked Turbo, "What kind of animal is that?"

Turbo replied, "A bird. See? There's a pink one here, and a yellow one." He excitedly got out of his chair to show me all the birds on the box, one on each side.

Me: "What sound does that bird make?"

Turbo, without pause: "Turtle-oortle-ooh-ooh. Cheep, cheep. Hoo hoo."

What?! We're pretty sure that was meant to be a "cock-a-doodle-doo," along with some other bird sounds thrown in for good measure.

I'm proud of Turbo's complex web of detailed story-telling and sometimes run-on sentences, but maybe it's time to get back to the basics.

Hoo-hoo.

Kids Take Over Computer

I don't know why I'm compelled to post this, except that Turbo was overwhelmingly proud of his creation so I feel it must be captured somewhere and this blog is as good as any.

My two kids in tandem created this masterpiece I call Wall of Text.

Smiley helmed the mouse, which proved a little frustrating for Turbo at the keyboard as the cursor kept jumping in and out of his window of creative space. I admit I sometimes intervened to get the cursor back where it belonged. Does that make me a creative partner?

I should mention that I was busy on the floor changing Smiley's diaper when I first realized Turbo was on my computer. I ignored the clacking of the keyboard until I looked up to find he had somehow opened my Facebook page. My apologies to my cousin for the random chat message she received. :)

Turbo's initial purpose at the computer can be best told in his own words, "Let's see what I'm getting for next Christmas," he said. "Candy canes, stocking, [something-I-couldn't-quite-make-out], and a statue."

And then, "Look, mom, I made a statue!" I have no idea what that picture was on my FB wall, but I hope it was just a view of something posted by a friend and not something he posted on my behalf.

Turbo then proceeded to hit a lot of keys on the keyboard (which explains the gibberish chat to my cousin) and so I opened up a new email message and let him have at it.

Here is that result:

ddfddfddfddfwwwwwqddddddddddddddddd..

D ARW      S S FD FDS F SCDSD  SDDDDGDGVVDVBDDD FCBVNFVFBFVCVBNVBNNB     BNM    BB B B NMNB BN N  N  N BBNBNNBB N BMN NBNM V    BV  V  QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Turbo pointed to the final zero and declared, "This means 'stop.'"

The Royal We

Tonight Turbo pushed back on pretty much everything I threw at him. I said "one more book," and he countered with, "two more books." Etc., etc., etc.

The last instance of the evening warmed my heart. I was tucking him into bed, sure I'd be able to avoid climbing into his bed with him and he pushed the point again, but it's his carefully chosen words that got the corners of my mouth to turn up.

Turbo: "You come in my bed with me." (It wasn't a question.)

Me: "No, honey. You're a big boy and you can sleep all by yourself."

Turbo, whining: "Nooo. Sometimes we need someone in our bed with us."

I caved. I couldn't help it. And so he fell asleep quickly with Lightning McQueen in one hand and Sarge* in the other. And I was assigned Luigi* to hold while we snuggled.

And I loved every minute of it.


*Sarge and Luigi are cars in the Cars movies. Luigi is pronounced Leeg-oo-ee in our house, by the way. This is something you'll need to know should you come visit.

Mayor of Simpleton

This is a story about Mater and Lightning McQueen. Turbo loves these two characters more than any of this trains or other toys.

Here is a conversation I overheard last night:

Dad, being funny: "Turbo, I'm the Mater of this town."

Turbo: "No. You're the Lightning McQueen of this town."

A Bird Did It and Other Lies

One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless, has started teasing Turbo during dinners. We're not usually lucky enough to have extra family at dinner time, but in the past two weeks we've seen Auntie ----- twice.  Yeah!

During both meals my sister has stolen food off Turbo's plate and blamed it on a bird. The first time (at our home), Turbo noticed quickly when a tortilla chip went missing from his plate and looked suspiciously at his Aunt as she was the only other human at the table.

Aunt: "A bird ate it. You should watch out for those birds."

Turbo looked toward the ceiling and my sister did a great job of convincing Turbo that the bird was just out of sight, but to keep trying.

Not the actual bird.

Last Saturday we had dinner at Red Hook Brewery to get out of the house after a long, snow-bound week and my sister and brother-in-law joined us there. It was crowded and loud and perfect.

Smiley was pushing herself passed her bed time as the meal wound down, but mostly she was delightful as she poured quinoa and broccolini in her mouth and down her shirt and all over that messy high chair.

Turbo doesn't eat quite as well as Smiley. In fact, to avoid a fight we ordered him two side dishes: bacon and tortilla chips. Turbo was thrilled and not interested in sharing.

But my sister had different ideas. While I was wrapped up with cutting broccoli for Smiley my sister was at it again, teasing Turbo about some bird stealing his chips.

I only caught on when I realized my husband was in on it too. They even started whistling when Turbo was looking away and saying things like, "Did you hear that bird?" A wide-eyed Turbo was looking around, eagerly trying to find the non-existent bird.

At a hilarious turning point, Turbo looked alarmed and took action to protect his plate of food. While still searching for the bird, Turbo slowly took his plate and began to hide it under the table. The whole table burst out laughing and I was lucky enough to catch this moment so I could stop the plate from spilling out on the floor - although, to be honest, he had a pretty tight grip.

Turbo was a little confused by the laughter. I think he took the food theft situation very seriously. Bless his cute little heart.

I did the only thing a mom could do. I made an attempt to save him.  I pulled out my cell phone and called the bird and relayed the message to Turbo that the bird was now bothering some poor little kid at a table across the room. He bought it.

The bird made an appearance at our home again last night.

Turbo was playing with a little flashlight and accidentally pulled the top part of it off, leaving one piece of the flashlight in each hand.

Me: "Uh oh. What happened?"

Turbo: "A bird did it. It's the bird's fault."

Oh boy. Get ready for some fantastic fibbing, people.

Smiley's New Word

We recently got snowed in. I mean, way in. We were stuck in the house from Tuesday evening through Saturday morning. I ventured out into the snow twice with Turbo - lots of fun! But mostly we were stuck here with no fancy 4-wheel-drive to haul our butts out of here.

I'm not saying I picked a fight or two with my husband, but I'm not saying I didn't either.

In those cabin-fevered 3.5 days, Smiley started using some new words. She said "turtle" while pointing at our turtle night light. She said "outside" when I asked her if she wanted to go outside... and then she learned the one word that will serve her well in her life with an older brother.

She said "mine."

And she said it with gusto, usually while taking a toy from her brother's hands and running in the other direction, shrieking with delight at her new skill.

I'm rooting for her.

The Straight Answer

We've been on a search for Stanley and Percy for about an hour now, off and on. I asked the source one final time to see if he remembered where he hid these two trains.

Stanley is gray and Percy is the green train.

Me: "Where are Stanley and Percy?"

Turbo: "I hid them in a special spot so Smiley couldn't find them."

Me: "Where were you standing when Smiley was trying to take them from you."

Turbo, deadpan: "Right next to Smiley's feet."

Word Explosion

Smiley has been talking up a storm lately! It's adorable and we are eating up her cuteness with a spoon.

This past weekend we realized the word she says most often is "mine." Or, at least, that's the very clear intent of the word even if it sounds more like, "mou" (as in mouse or mouth).

She wants everything her brother has and more. She'll happily read any book or play with any toy, but if her brother walks into the room carrying one of his cars or trucks, she points eagerly to the object, looks at me expectantly and says, "mou."

Textbook younger sibling.

I've been meaning to post for weeks now about how many words she has, and I so seldom have time to blog these days and her vocabulary increases daily. If I'd posted this a month ago, I'd probably have 5 words to share. Now, it's a total word explosion and she wakes each day with new ones.

I love a good vocabulary growth spurt.  Here are some of our favorites:

Backpack (sounds like pack-pack), dinosaur, mine, mama (my personal favorite), flower (sounds like wow-were), book, milk, wow, whoa, uh-oh (with each and every drop of an object over the side of her high chair), all done (which she repeats 3x).

She also babbles incessantly. She speaks in full sentences all the time, only we don't have the secret decoder ring to know what she's really talking about. She has a couple of signature sounds that she makes over and over again and I can't seem to come up with the right string of letters to accurately describe the sounds, so I better get my butt in gear and take some video before she wakes one morning to say, "Hello, mother. May I please have some toast and jam?"

Oh! And I almost forgot to add that she loves to say "hi" when she greets you, even if all you're doing is returning from the bathroom. Two days in a row last week (while 'sleeping' in bed next to me), she stood up after she heard Turbo on the baby monitor and said, "Hiiii, Turbo," while waving her hand.

What was her first word, you ask? Ball. As it was with Turbo. But, shh, don't tell my husband... he'll insist both kids' first word was "Dad."

Stand-Up Comedian

I think Turbo might have told his first joke today.

My husband and I picked up the kids a little early from daycare - snow accumulation made the school close early - and it was a pretty fun run home. It's so rare that the four of us spending quality time together... during daylight... on a weekday... unless you count the rushed and Cheerio-laden mornings, which we don't.

Turbo was waxing on about how well he'd listened to mommy by not running away from me as we walked to the car. Have I mentioned that this is a favorite trick? My only salvation is to tell him there is a treat in the car for him so that he makes a beeline for the car instead of the parking lot. It's working so far. No one's been run over.

I congratulated Turbo on having listened to me, "That's so great, honey! That makes mommy super happy."

Turbo beamed.

Then he told us that he followed directions from Miss Barbara today too, listening while she read a book about a snowman. Riveted, I asked him a question about the book.

Me: "Did the snowman say anything?"

Turbo: "Yeah. He said, 'I'm always the first to leave the party.'"

Happy Jolly Snow

It snowed here yesterday, and today, and Turbo got to play outside in the snow two days in a row. Total bliss to a 3-yr-old.

It's only fitting that the song he's currently belting out from the bathtub is Frosty the Snowman. Only, it's not the version you and I know. It goes a little something like this:

"Frosty the Snowman, was a happy, jolly snow... with a corncake on his back."

Staycation - Day Two Results

Tuesday turned out to be one of those emotional roller coaster days. Monday was full of clarity and focus, as I tackled just one major task and some quick easy wins, but with Tuesday I was facing a where do I start kind of feeling. I thought I knew what I wanted to accomplish this week, but for some reason I questioned my original plan and maybe that's where I derailed.

I do have to add that the sleep was totally crappy in this house on Monday night, so Tuesday morning began cloudy and grumpy for mom and dad. I know that being tired played a role in how my day unfolded. I was a bit lost at first, but then I found my way. Hooray!

And, when I regrouped, I realized my ultimate priority for this week was not to rid us of all clutter, not to organize and finalize every little decision, but rather to set ourselves up for ongoing, smaller improvements. I now have a vision of how we can get our house to where it needs to be. Having a manageable plan is making all the difference.

Accomplishments:

• Folded all the laundry in the house (this was no easy feat)
• Changed the lines on our bed - is there anything better than clean sheets?!
• Created 3 bags worth of stuff to take to the GoodWill - more to come, I'm sure.
• Set up toys to be rotated - finally, not all toys are cluttering up our living room at the same time.

Major Progress:

• New linen closet (sort of). I had a brilliant brainstorm yesterday whilst folding laundry. I was getting frustrated with how long our towels and sheets had been sitting in our family room. The leak in our shower (and the new hole in our linen closet) created this homelessness for towels and sheets. Seemingly unrelated, I have also been recognizing that our office closet is so very under utilized. Tons of random clutter and empty space... it's screaming for a makeover. Post-makeover, the office closet is now our linen closet. It's a start in the right direction and I'm hoping that very, very, very soon we make it a priority to get shelving into this closet - it has the potential to store a ton of stuff!

Before

After

OK. Laughing here... in looking at these pictures, the 'after' shot is not all that thrilling, yet it makes me so very happy. I alone know how much work and happiness went into this potential gold mine of a clutter buster.


Down Time:

• I didn't take much 'me time' today, but that's all right. I did manage to squeeze in some movie/tv watching while I was completing other tasks. I'm happy to say I'm all caught up on Top Chef (go, Nyesha), ready for tonight's new episode. And I watched the first episode of Project Runway - All Stars (go, Mondo). I know. Try not to be jealous.

Pedometer: 6,388. Not the greatest, but then I didn't leave the house all day, so maybe it's pretty good, considering.