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.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Following Directions
Me: "Turbo, you may place one toy on that shelf. One."
Turbo: "OK, mom."
Turbo: "OK, mom."
 |
| That's a stretchy frog with a stretchy tongue (on the right) |
Monday, January 21, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
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.
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.
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? |
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.
A Lesson in Anatomy
It's important that I mention here that I've had countless conversations with Turbo about who does and doesn't have a penis. I feel the need to make that known before sharing the following story.
Turbo is a funny, playful kid. I love his mischievousness and I continue to learn and practice being patient when his level of mischievousness rises a little too high on the trouble scale at less than perfect times. Like when I'm trying to get him into bed.
Turbo sleeps like a rock all night long, which wasn't always the case (thank you, God, for the passing of that phase), but sometimes it's an uphill battle to get the kid into bed. There are plenty of nights when he's more than willing to climb into bed, cuddle, read four books, cuddle some more, and then drop promptly off into slumber-slumber land.
But tonight I made the brilliant choice to feed our family pancakes for dinner. I put ground flax seed in the batter (good goin', mama!), but pancakes also means maple syrup and that means hyper before-bedtime-kids. But whatever, today had snowflakes coming out of the sky and it was cold all day and I didn't want to cook real food. I was willing to pay the price.
I have to admit the kids weren't all that hopped up, so my gamble mostly paid off. Until it was time for bed and then Turbo could not settle quickly. He jumped into my bed (which is where we read his books each night), but he was fully clothed and quickly realized he was overdressed for the book party and instead of going right to the bathroom door in our bedroom, which is conveniently located right-next-to-the-laundry-basket, Turbo walked all the way around to the other door just to waste a little more time. I should put a pedometer on this kid.
It ended up in a game of, go in one bathroom door, take off one piece of clothing... go all the way back around to the other entrance, take off another piece of clothing, etc. etc. etc. It was funny, I laughed, and didn't mind him working off a little more sugar before reading time. At one point I realized I needed to pee, and I entered the bathroom, apparently through the wrong door.
Turbo, scowling: "No, mom! Go through the other door."
Me: "I need to go to the bathroom. I guess I'll wait."
Turbo: "Hold your penis."
Me: "Why should I hold my penis?"
Turbo: "Cuz. When you don't want to go, you hold your penis and it keeps it inside."
Mmkay. Good to know. Thanks for the lesson, Turbo.
Turbo is a funny, playful kid. I love his mischievousness and I continue to learn and practice being patient when his level of mischievousness rises a little too high on the trouble scale at less than perfect times. Like when I'm trying to get him into bed.
Turbo sleeps like a rock all night long, which wasn't always the case (thank you, God, for the passing of that phase), but sometimes it's an uphill battle to get the kid into bed. There are plenty of nights when he's more than willing to climb into bed, cuddle, read four books, cuddle some more, and then drop promptly off into slumber-slumber land.
But tonight I made the brilliant choice to feed our family pancakes for dinner. I put ground flax seed in the batter (good goin', mama!), but pancakes also means maple syrup and that means hyper before-bedtime-kids. But whatever, today had snowflakes coming out of the sky and it was cold all day and I didn't want to cook real food. I was willing to pay the price.
I have to admit the kids weren't all that hopped up, so my gamble mostly paid off. Until it was time for bed and then Turbo could not settle quickly. He jumped into my bed (which is where we read his books each night), but he was fully clothed and quickly realized he was overdressed for the book party and instead of going right to the bathroom door in our bedroom, which is conveniently located right-next-to-the-laundry-basket, Turbo walked all the way around to the other door just to waste a little more time. I should put a pedometer on this kid.
It ended up in a game of, go in one bathroom door, take off one piece of clothing... go all the way back around to the other entrance, take off another piece of clothing, etc. etc. etc. It was funny, I laughed, and didn't mind him working off a little more sugar before reading time. At one point I realized I needed to pee, and I entered the bathroom, apparently through the wrong door.
Turbo, scowling: "No, mom! Go through the other door."
Me: "I need to go to the bathroom. I guess I'll wait."
Turbo: "Hold your penis."
Me: "Why should I hold my penis?"
Turbo: "Cuz. When you don't want to go, you hold your penis and it keeps it inside."
Mmkay. Good to know. Thanks for the lesson, Turbo.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
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:
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!
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!
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