Always Be Closing

It's been a while since I've seen the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, but I do remember one important piece of advice - Always Be Closing.

Our family is going to The Nutcracker this month and mom and dad are excited to share this holiday favorite with our kids. The Pacific Northwest Ballet's production is particularly exciting because the sets are done by Maurice Sendak. I haven't been in years, not since having kids, and I am giddy with excitement to see this Christmas tale again.

Not so much excitement for our boy Turbo. Emphasis on boy.

When we told Turbo we were going to The Nutcracker ballet, I think all he heard was blah-blah-blah ballet, because his only comment was, "Yuck. I don't like girl stuff." And he wrinkled his nose and sneered a little and looked at us like we were nuts.

Then Turbo got invited to a birthday party, which happened to be at the same time as The Nutcracker. When we told Turbo that he couldn't go to his pal's party because we were going to be at the ballet, he reminded us again about his strong dislike for this girl stuff. And he through in some frantic eyebrow maneuvers for good measure.

Last night I took a different approach. I put on my sales and marketing hat and went to work.

Me: "Turbo, we're getting our Christmas tree on Sunday."

Turbo: "Yeah!"

Me: "And then we're going to The Nutcracker in Seattle."

Turbo: "Mom, I already told you. I don't like that girl stuff."

Me: "You might be surprised. Did you know there are bad guys with swords? There is a Rat King who fights some soldiers and maybe some of them even die."

Intrigued eyebrows shot up.

Then Turbo and I watched a YouTube clip of the Rat King fighting with his swords. And Turbo saw what a ballet really was - he pretty much had the wrong idea, whatever that was. I boiled it down to this, "It's people dancing to music with no words and they tell a story. Some of the stories are for girls and some of the stories are something everybody could like."

Sold. Always Be Closing. ABC.

Here is how mom and dad are selling The Nutcracker to our very different children:

Selling ballet to a 5 year old boy

Selling ballet to a girl

Lipsie Returns

She's baaaack!

Last year we started doing the Elf on the Shelf thing with great success for our then 4 year old. This year both kids, now 3 and 5, are totally into the whole experience. Shrieks of delight pepper our quiet morning home each morning as Lipsie's new location is discovered.

Each morning they run downstairs to find Lipsie - still love this name that Turbo chose last year! - and Turbo usually finds he first and then wakes a bleary-eyed-but-smiling Smiley to "let" her find Lipsie too. Turbo is not great at secrets, but, then, what kid is?

Here is Lipsie on day one - with a healthy reminder to mom and dad to get rid of this old plant that decorates a high, forgotten shelf in the kitchen. Three days in and the plant is still there. Yeah, we have other priorities around these parts.

Hey, Lipsie, can your Christmas magic bring that plant back to life?

Cross-cross applesauce in a partially finished Lego toy

Reminding us to wear warm hats on this 20-degree days

Creating New Traditions

I love Christmas.

My childhood Christmases were filled with homemade ornaments, garlands of freshly made popcorn strung with cranberries, and cold boot-wearing treks through snow to chop down our own trees.

And, no, I did not grow up in a Normal Rockwell painting. But it was pretty great, if you ask me.

For the memories of Christmas that I love, I want to repeat all of these treasured details with my own kids and yet I also recognize the value of creating our own traditions.

We live in a neighborhood with lots and lots of houses decorated with lots and lots of Christmas lights. There is also a plethora of lit-up woodland creatures, various snowmen (and snow-women and snow-children), and countless Santas... Construction Santa, Chimney Santa, Sleigh Santa, Shovel Santa, Santa-and-His-Reindeer Santa, Climb-in-Your-Window Santa (erm, the non-creepy kind).

Driving home from the kids' school last night I look at left instead of a right. Turbo, ever my alert observer, said, "Hey. This isn't the way home." To which I quipped, "No s***, Sherlock."

Kidding! Sheesh, I hope you didn't believe me.

To which I replied, "That's right, honey. I thought we'd go see some Christmas light before we go home."

Both Turbo and Smiley squealed with delight at the first house, which, by design of my genius left-instead-of-right move, brought us to one of those thoroughly decorated homes where the owners probably need eye masks to block out the light while sleeping. And I squealed too. I love these crazy decorations. Or, as Smiley said, "Oh, mom! Yook at all dose decowations!"

Sample house. Not actual size or neighborhood. 

I told the kids that we'd go find new Christmas decowations every night after school. We shook hands to make it official.

One day later... on tonight's drive home I was feeling a bit tired from a long day at work and considered driving straight home. Maybe the kids won't remember, said the little voice in my head.

Turbo, "Mom, remember how you said we were going to look at Christmas lights every day? Take a left, mom."

And I took a right, just to show him who is boss, and drove around a few loops near our house and both Turbo and Smiley provided a play-by-play of the lights outside of their respective windows - ya know, in case I wasn't looking at the same set of lights.

I think I'm going to like this new tradition.

Turning Three

This blog entry might also be titled, Pinkmond.

One of my favorite quips to ever so wisely share with other moms is, "I thought two was hard until I met three."  Well, I'm happy ready to report that this is still right on the money in our home.

Of my two kids, Turbo has been the most challenging. Have you picked up on that? I mean, his nickname is Turbo. This kid loves to push the boundaries and seems to ask with each clever maneuver, "Is this the edge?" "How about this, is this the edge?" Repeat. He's also turning five soon and mellowing considerably. I can take him to movie theaters now (rejoice!), he's easily engaged in the latest Ninjago-Lego-sheriff role-playing games he's excitedly dreamed up, and I can look him squarely in the eye and tell him, "I know what you're up to." And he gets it and smiles back at me.

Smiley, on the other hand, has always been "my easy one." I have tried to avoid this phrase for worry it would creep into my spoken words at home and I would never want Turbo to think he's "the challenging one." Smiley from day one has been textbook on sleeping, eating, everything, and is, almost always, smiling. She is sweet, sweet, sweet.

Oh how the tables have turned. Smiley will be three soon and has found her scream. She startled herself to tears a couple of times by the intensity of her own screams, and looked around in panic for comfort from her mama. I remember asking her on one vociferous occasion, "Did that scream scare you?" "Yes," she nodded and sobbed and held me tight around the neck. Still cute. Still sweet, and now with an edge. A pink, wears-only-dresses, edge.

Earlier today our family was outside enjoying this extended stretch of sunny weather (thank you, weather gods), and my husband and I talked about options for replacing our deck, or at least the boards that are showing ground beneath them and thus creating alarms in my head every time I send the kids outside to play. It's time to get serious about deck repairs. Before long my husband had his tape measure out and both kids showed enthusiasm in their own unquie styles.

Turbo: "Dad, that's my tape measure. Give it to me."
Smiley: "I want a pink tape measure."

Say, they actually make pink tape measures. Can you say, birthday present?

The girl loves pink. And dresses. And sandals. And with her curly hair, one cannot help but conjure up the old nursery rhyme, "there once was a girl, who had a little curl..." Oh, Smiley, please never tip the scales to horrid.

One of my very favorite things about Smiley is that she has so much to say. Before she had the muscles for real words, she would wake each morning as a smiley, happy chatterbox. When she really started talking, probably at the precise moment she turned 2.5, she surprised me with her thoughtful reflections. Had I not been so busy these past 12 months, I probably would have recorded each and every one of them. I've got a lot of time to make up, so here is one fantastic kidlogical-kid logic moment that happened about 60 minutes ago.

INT.  Family Car - Evening
Smiley: "What town are we in?"
Me: "Redmond."
Smiley, with utmost certainty: "No, Pinkmond."

Date Night

The best thing about a date night is that someone else puts your kids to bed.

The worst thing about a date night is that someone else puts your kids to bed.

Having a little freedom from daily tasks is an important part of feeding one's own needs, as well as showing your kids that mom and dad are people who love each other and need time alone, away from all the fabulous Lego-building and paint-cleanup.

It's also sometimes impossible for me to accept that I missed a single moment in my kids' lives. I know it's good for both mom and babies, but it's also hard to step away.

I am in love with my kids. I will enjoy time outside the house with my darling spouse, and I will continue to look for fun outings without the kids. And yet, my heart still tugs to bring me back to the moments I leave behind, the PJ's that Smiley willingly, or regrettably, got dressed into, and the books that someone else read to Turbo.

Necessary conflicts, these.

Smiley's Songs

Kids grow up so fast, said every mom in the universe ever.

It's because this is true that I sometimes want to capture every living breathing thing that my kids do and say, and bottle it or record it or write about it or something... anything to preserve a perfect moment.

I have, however, convinced myself that writing about the little things will bore the socks off of you and I tend to blog about the bigger moments instead, or at least for the extremely hilarious and sometimes shocking things that Turbo churns out.

And then there is Smiley. Sweet, cute, cuddly, adorable Smiley. She gets plenty of my attention, which might not be obvious for how often I write about her older brother. While Turbo turns my head in wonder at a high frequency, Smiley melts my heart a thousand times a day. This girl is special.

Maybe this blog entry is really just for me, to capture something dear to me so I always have these thoughts to look back on as she turns yet another corner in her way-too-fast growing up-ness. She could grow out of this little moment any day now and I don't want it to be forgotten.

Putting Smiley to bed has always been easy. When we moved from a crib to a twin bed recently, we did suffer a short-term setback of her not settling in quite as quickly as she used to. It's not too surprising that, given access to the bedroom door like that, she would naturally be inclined to visit it several times before falling asleep. Instead of putting our sleepy girl into her crib, rubbing her back briefly, and then leaving the room, the twin bed now requires some extra cuddle time. No complaining here! Snuggling with this cuddle bug is the high point of any day.

The new routine includes singing her some of my favorite songs from when I was a kid. I grew up with a lot of music in my life, thank you mom and dad, and these little tunes are her current favorites, and they belong in the following order, no exceptions:

1) Frosty the Snowman
2) Tender Shepherd
3) The Pie Song, or as she calls it, "Baby Don't Cry" - from the movie Waitress.

Baby don't you cry

Gonna make a pie

Gonna make a pie

With a heart in the middle

Baby don't be blue

Gonna make for you

Gonna make a pie

With a heart in the middle

Gonna be a pie from heaven above

Gonna be filled with strawberry love

Baby don't you cry

Gonna make a pie

And hold you forever in the middle of my heart

Looking the song up on YouTube just enlightened me. I need to learn the rest of these gorgeous lyrics to sing to my gorgeous Smiley. She is my baby pie, my heart, from heaven above.

Happening Right Now

My husband volunteered to change a diaper. In the dark. With a flashlight.

Why this has me giggling, I'm not sure. Maybe it's because when I change Smiley's occasional night-poo diapers I have a completely different method and every now and then it strikes me as funny that two parents of the same kid can have a completely different approach to solving a problem.

Way to go, hubby, way to go.

Food of Heroes

I'm not the kind of mama who cuts the crusts off her kids' sandwiches. When Turbo first starting eating full sandwiches he would eat the whole thing, crust and all. Now he'll eat the middle bits, but not the crusts. I continue to try to convince him that the crust is the best part and I most certainly continue to give him sandwiches with crusts on. I do, at least, spread the PB&J all the way to the edges so that when mommy or daddy inevitably finishes the meal at least we have something more tasty than plain bread crusts.

It occurred to me recently that the only sandwiches we offer the kids is PB&J. Hmm, something wrong with this picture if you ask me. Personally, I love a good non-grilled cheese sandwich, but the couple of times I've offered it up, both kids seem not to know what to do with it and often pick the cheese out of the sandwich and ask for more... cheese, that is.

I'm on a slow-paced acceleration in my mission to get Turbo to eat more varieties of foods. Smiley will eat pretty much anything, as was shown to me recently when she ate most of the salad from my plate and ignored the mac & cheese in her own bowl. Turbo, that's another story.

The four food groups according to Turbo are: pizza, mac & cheese, chips, and milk, with the runner-up being candy. Not that we get a lot of candy around here, but it is an animated discussion whenever the topic comes up.

I do keep trying, keep offering Turbo more choices on his plate and not taking 'no' for an answer. This usually ends up in him skipping dinner, but at least I'm not giving in - I don't really count this as a win, as a true win would end in him eating the new food.

So last weekend I thought maybe if I made these cheese sandwiches into fun shapes that would appeal more to the kids. It works in the movies, right?

I put these on the table for the kids' lunch and both kids were a little confused. Smiley warmed up more quickly and exclaimed, "Stars, mommy!" I smiled, proud of my little creative invention.

Star sandwiches = yum, right?

Turbo, however, was less impressed.

Me: "Turbo, I don't know if you know this, but star sandwiches are Sheriff Woody's favorite lunch."

Turbo, eyebrows raised: "Really?"

Me: "Yes. Woody called me on the phone the other day and told me that he really likes sandwiches that are in the shape of a star."

Turbo eyed both me and the sandwiches a little skeptically. I turned my back on the kids and started cleaning up the lunch prep area and then heard the kind of comment that makes me laugh out loud every time I remember it.

Turbo: "What does Buzz like to eat?"

Turbo 1, Mama 0.

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.

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.

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...

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."

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.