Kid Logic, Kidlogical

They say it takes two to three weeks to either break a bad habit or start a new (presumably) good one.

Well, darn it, I got out of practice with blogging again and I sorely miss it. I like to tell myself you've missed me too. Time to get writing again, even if just to remember how grand it feels to hear the clicks and clacks of my keyboard and how magical it can feel when the words pour from my mind onto these pages.

My darling son Turbo has an inquisitive mind. I love that about him. Or, in Internet-speak, I <3 that about him.

With fresh fruit more abundant at grocery stores these days, my husband and I have started introducing the idea of dessert after a few meals each week. So far, we've had strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Somehow, even though we are far far away from summer, the blackberries have been the overwhelming favorite as they were oh-so-juicy and not even a little bit tart. These kids are in for a rude awakening the first time we come across them growing on the local walking paths. "Sure you may eat those." "Mom, ew, these are terrible!" Or at least those are my memories when I ate them too soon in the season as a kid.

Tonight dessert was strawberries and before I describe the hilarious and beautiful kidlogical moment, I want to take a moment to pat myself on the back for introducing the concept of dessert without it having to mean piles of chocolate chip cookies or mounds of vanilla ice cream smothered in buttery caramel sauce... mmm, is anyone else hungry?

I am quite sure I do plenty of things the 'wrong' way (even though I swear there is no right or wrong in parenting), but this one feels right. Fruit is so naturally sweet and delicious and also full of fiber and other goodies. And I'm sure we'll have our chocolate nights too, but only after fruit is well-established as the norm.

All hail the strawberry!

Kidlogical moment #1
Turbo: "Mom, why are they called strawberries when they aren't made out of straws?"

Kidlogical moment #2

Turbo: "Mom, why are they called walkie-talkies when we don't walk on them?"

Keep the questions coming, kid.

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.

Following Directions

Me: "Turbo, you may place one toy on that shelf. One."

Turbo: "OK, mom."

That's a stretchy frog with a stretchy tongue (on the right)

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.

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.