Growing Older and Up

I was reading through some old blogs over the past few weeks and realized that last year was a pretty tough year for me. Us. Me and Fonz, that is. I mean, I lost him, he hurt his foot (again) and got an ear infection (again). I am so infinitely happy that this year is going much, much better. Even though I gave up Coke and it was a two week detox. Not kidding. Even a little bit. There was nausea and crabbiness and general misery. My pants fit better, and even though I am not doing well in the food category, I am trying to make better choices.

A couple of weeks ago I took Fonz down to see Dr. Nadene so she could do something about his foot. The hole in his toe never really healed from last summer, and now when he walked he would leave little red spots all over my hardwood floor. Super annoying. He had began to limp a little more recently, and I noticed that his back end had given out more than usual. Dr. Nadene decided to amputate the toe, a decision that did not surprise me in the least. But then, while prepping his foot for surgery, she realized that he was also missing a toenail on the same foot, and it was all gnarly looking. So she decided to focus on that instead. Since he has been home, the limping and falling has greatly decreased and had the most adorable bandage on his foot. I think that, for now, we have resolved one issue. Eventually though, that damn toe will have to come off. Have I ever mentioned how much I wish we had pet insurance on him??

Do you see the heart? And the K? And the flowers? I love Dr. Nadene and her peeps.

 

One night, we got a shit ton of rain. Over the past month, I had stared into my back yard at the dead yellow grass. There was barely a green blade to be found. It was so icky looking that I had absolutely no desire to go pick up the poop that litters the whole entire yard. But then the rain came. And I looked out one morning and THERE IS GREEN GRASS GROWING! It happened! Spring is here!! AND NOW?? The whole damn yard is green. And the grass cutting guys showed up right on time. It looks friggin' beautiful.

 

The appearance of spring has made me ruminate over our family. Fonz is getting older, but he is still strong and young at heart. Kale is also getting older, more mature, but still insanely food obsessed. I recently got the name of a local certified behavior specialist in hopes I can elevate his level of awesomeness before everyone sees us again for the summer. No promises, but if I have someone I have to be held accountable to, the more likely I'll actually follow through on his training. He has big shoes to fill, and it doesn't happen overnight. Sampson is, well, Sampson. He is in and out all throughout the day and comes home every night. He is a big boy at over 11 lbs, yet still expects treats whenever he comes in the house. Like, "Hey, I came home, right? Gimme candy." I was so fortunate as to open the door the other morning and found his first present of the warm weather season for us on the back porch, a lovely robin. Dead. Under our patio table. In my screened in porch.  

 

The biggest change, obviously, has been in the girls.

 

Sam is now a mature little four year old. Going on fourteen. She rolls her eyes and sighs and tells us that she hasn't been to school in nineteen years. She loves to say the word truth, but has little idea about how to use it correctly. She treats the dogs and the cat and Charlie exactly the way I do...which means she scolds them when they piss her off. It is so cute, but yet...you are not their mom!

 

The other day she was telling me "I swear that the toy was under the seat in our car. I swear it was!" She has the memory of an elephant. Of course she always has, but it drives me crazy when she overhears us say that someone died and a week later she asked how and why that person died. I also had no idea what to tell her when she asked me exactly HOW does the baby get in the mommy's tummy?  

Her favorite activity is to watch You Tube videos on the iPad or play games on Workaholics old phone that he just gave her. She has to take it everywhere. "Wait mom! I forgot my phone!" (Oh boy.) Don't worry, it isn't actually a phone anymore, more like an iTouch. Another one of her favorite activities is to play with her Barbies and Littlest Pet Shop toys. She watch videos on YouTube where a little girl acts out scenarios with her toys, and then Sam runs and plays with hers. I'm assuming she is mimicking, but since she doesn't want us to watch what she watches or listen while she plays, I'll just keep that as an assumption. She loves anything baby...her favorite Free Willy movie is number three. She calls it the "big Jessie" movie, because he is older. But she mainly likes it because at the end, Willy's girlfriend Nikki gives birth. Like, actually gives birth. Workaholic is grossed out by the scene, but Sam loves it. Alternately, in many movies, she says her favorite scene is the one in which someone dies. Like in Pocahontas? When Kokoum gets shot by Thomas and he dramatically falls into a stream, dead? Yep, her favorite. I'm not quite sure what that means, although I am guessing it is the one which has the most impact on her so she has no idea how to handle her feelings.

 

She also has developed modesty and she notices what people think of her. Both of which make me infinitely sad. The modesty is expected, but I am just afraid it is because she doesn't want to be laughed at. Which I know because she has told me so. She goes to pre-school two days a week, and now that it is April, I think she is quite ready for summer break. She just doesn't want to go anymore. She also LOVES to help. As long as it is her idea. Since her fourth birthday she has taken to saying no when I ask her to do a task, like let the dogs in. It depends on my mood as to how much I push that issue, also how fast she turns around and walks away. I don't like chasing kids, too tiring. I am trying VERY HARD to have patience and try to impress upon her how it feels when she is rude to me or others. Sometimes I feel like she is just trying to be "cool." At four years old. But maybe this is the girl drama that everyone always talks about. Starting at four. years. old. (Actually, it really started at three, but has kicked into high gear lately.) 

 

The things that have come out of her mouth over the past few months have been priceless. I wish I have written more of them down.

 

"Daddy, put that knife down before you hurt yourself."

 

Sam was talking to Sook after having lunch with Sook's sisters and dad. She asked her, "Why did your dad give you up? Does he not want you anymore?"

 

I have to preface the next story by saying that we do NOT talk about salons and manicures and pedicures a lot in our house. If ever really. And it is in the context of "I really want to get a pedicure." We also don't talk about people of different races and stereotypes, as I am very conscious of how impressionable our kids are. That said, Sam got taken to get her finger and toe nails painted once. It was months ago. Yesterday, she and Sook were sitting down to play nail salon, and Sook lined up all the colors and told Sam that she was going to paint her nails, she just needed to pick the color. Sam responds with, "OK, but can you pretend to speak another language and not English?"   O.M.G.

Sam also is teased mercilessly by Workaholic. Actually, both kids are. Sam just has a more direct way of dealing with it..."Daddy, I've had enough."

I love how little kids have no concept of time. Sam will often say that she hasn't been to see grandma in 13 weeks, even if it has only been two. She is slowly learning that when we go away for the weekend, it is for 2 nights and 3 days, and it does seem like she really understands that. When we recently told her that we may be moving to a new house, she was extremely concerned about leaving her doll house and her fairies and Sook. Once I promised her that everything was coming with us (God help me pack), she became very excited and wants to know the color of the new house and her new room. So I guess that means she might be able to handle change well? Hopefully better than me.

She is forever telling stories that she makes up as she is telling them. Usually they involve her panda bear and his mom and dad and brothers. She makes up pretend friends who have names that change all the time, and are half of one name that she likes and half of another name that she likes. Although that is only for girls, the boys names she chooses are strictly the names of the little boys that she plays with, the sons of my friends.  

In general, she is a beautiful, incredibly smart 4 year old who never. forgets. anything. Yesterday she brought up when Oma fell down the stairs when she was carrying Charlie. And how Oma cried. She was two. I have a feeling she'll be spending a lot of time in therapy when she is older.

Charlie. Oh Charlie. Our fearless little girl. Here is her climbing up on the counter.

Normally she can do it in 2 seconds flat. I need to get her in some sort of tumbling or gymnastics class, she is forever jumping from a table to the couch. Or from the couch to the floor. Or from the bed to the floor. When we went and visited Uncle T at his boat store, she climbed up onto one of the Mastercrafts and hopped from the open bow to the open bow of the boat next to it. While it really was only about 6 inches of open air, it was a good 7-8 feet in the air over a concrete floor. Talk about a heart attack.

Her talking is getting much better every day. If you ask her to do something, she'll say "Of course mommy." While she often speaks in whine, she gives the best hugs and she is really hard to resist. She has this terrible habit of whipping things over her shoulder. Done with a toy? Throw it back. Digging through the toybox to look for something? Toss all the toys in the way over your shoulder. The higher and farther they go, the better. It isn't unusual for her to whip something across an entire room. While is actually is pretty good at picking up, she is definitely her father's (and grandfather's) daughter in that it has to be her idea. Otherwise crying ensues. And she is a master at producing crocodile tears.

Charlie revels in playing the little sister role. One of her favorite activities is to take something that she knows is near and dear to Sam at that exact moment and run. Sam plays along with her game like a puppet, screeching and chasing her through the house while Charlie laughs manically. She can be kind to Sam though, and it is in those little moments that I know that we're doing something right and they really do loves each other. I love to hear, "Here you go Sam" because it means that my little Tyrant is actually being thoughtful and mindful of her big sister's feelings.

Neither girl seems to be enamored with the animals, although they each love to feed the dogs. In Charlie's case, that means both putting Kale's dog food out for him and also feeding him her food from her chair. She is not so fond of sharing her food when he takes it right from her without her consent though. I guess I get that, but I always tell both girls that if they don't want the dogs to bother them while they are eating, then they should SIT IN A CHAIR AT THE TABLE INSTEAD OF WALKING AROUND. Just my little attempt at instilling common sense.

Long story short, my girls are growing up. I hate that when parents of grown children tell you to enjoy it because before you know it, your babies are adults are right. I'm trying to savor moments and remember the little things...hence the reason for this post. Enjoy some pictures of my little (growing-up-fast) little girls. And yes, Charlie did get herself up on the banister.

   

 

 

  



 

Vacation is Great

You know how I told you we went to Florida in November? Oh, I didn't?? Well, we did.

The thing about going on vacation when you have a blog is that there is so much fantastic shit that happens that you want to blog about, and then you forget it by the end of that day, much less remember it a month. However, when you do stupid shit, you usually don't forget.

When we go to Florida, as we do every couple of years, there usually isn't much of a game plan. Yes, we are going to the beach. Yes, we'll go to Disney or Sea World or the zoo or Busch Gardens. Once we get there, we decide what day we are going to go where for the big stuff, and for the rest we just wing it. Winging it isn't very smart sometimes.

On Tuesday, we got up and decided just to get in the car and drive. Workaholic asked me if we would wind up at the beach, and I said, "Yeah, maybe, but we won't swim or anything. We'll just walk and shop." Am I NOT the parents to two young children??

We wound up driving straight to the beach. Passing, sadly without stopping, the NEW original Hooters. (Yep, they tore down the first Hooters ever and re-built it on the exact same spot and call it the New Original Hooters. I think that is cheating.) Once we got to the beach, I suggested we go straight to the awesome playground they have there and let the kids run off their energy. Which worked out great. Until us adults got bored. So we convinced the children to "take a walk" along the beach. And to "go see" the ocean up close. How could I forget I have Charlie for a daughter?

This is what happened approximately 5 minutes of getting close to the water.

Here is the thing. Since we weren't exactly planning on going to the beach, much less swimming in the ocean, we didn't exactly have the appopriate swimwear.

Shortly after, this happened.

 

It was decided after a couple more minutes of this that Workaholic would take the girls back to the car to get out of their wet clothes and I would go buy us all bathing suits. So I did, which was stupid, because it took just as long to go buy bathing suits as it would have to drive to the condo and back and get our already paid for bathing suits. For the rest of the week we kept a bag in the car with suits and towels that we didn't have to use once. Lesson learned.

 

The rest of the week was filled with smiles like this...

 

A few  precious, peaceful moments where this happened...

And lots and lots of sisterly love.

Vacation is great.



Ugghh-GIRLS!

I'm going to start this by saying, I love my children more than anything, and I would do anything for them. They come first, no matter what.

That being said, they are about to drive me insane. They have already driven me to drink, which, let's admit, wasn't much of a stretch. But my little angels are full blown GIRLS.

I asked facebook last night if girls truly are more emotional than boys, even as toddlers, or if it was something I did to cause this. This...daily battle of meltdown after meltdown because YES YOU HAVE TO GO TO PRE-SCHOOL TODAY. The tantrums that are thrown when you tell a child that they cannot stand on a chair on top of the fireplace hearth to reach up and grab the ornament on the top of the tree that just happens to be made of glass. (Why oh WHY did I not put up only plastic or cloth ornaments this year?) (Like it would have really made that much of a difference, Charlie breaks everything.)

The general consensus was summed up best by my sister, the saint who is a mother of three darling little humans of the female variety, two of whom are twins. Her response was, and I quote, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes."  I presume one Yes for each of our girls.

One of my facebook friends said that it greatly depended on the child and parental reaction. Which, apparently I have two more emotional than less emotional girls. And as far as parental reaction? I have tried everything. From ignoring to calmly responding to screaming, to mimicking the tantrum at a lesser level, to putting them in their room or timeout. I've tried to sympathize with them, let them know that I DO feel their pain (which sometimes calms them down), there is just nothing I am going to do about it.(which gets them fired back up again) The only thing that consistently works is to give in and let them have their way. Which...no. Does not work for me. At least all the time. Life isn't fair, and I guess my kids are learning that young.

As the parents of four girls, I sincerely do not know how mine survived. One definite side effect is that my dad no longer attempts to talk if there are female relatives in the room. Sometimes he will raise his hand at dinner, but no one ever calls on him, so he doesn't get his turn to speak. Poor, poor man. My mom made us dinner every.single.night of our childhood. And she always kicked us out of the kitchen, saying it was too small for more than one person. Which, OK, maybe it was. But I see now that making dinner was the only alone time she really ever got. If there had been a door, I am quite sure she would have shut it. And put in ear buds if those existed back then. Poor, poor woman.

Another thing I remember from my childhood involved our parents getting mad at us for fighting. And the thing is, I am not even really there yet with my girls. What gets me is the attitude I get my teenager preschooler. She takes longer than anyone in the house to get ready. And when you tell her it is time to go, she responds with, "Ugh! I'm coming!" When I am trying to help her clean her room and all she is doing is talking about Baby Panda Bear and I am doing all the cleaning and so I start scolding her, I get, "Ugh! Mom! Why are you so mean? Just calm down!" She'll make a clicking sound with her tongue, "Well mom, (click) I know that we are going to get ready for bed now, but how 'bout I just watch the iPad for a little while until I get tired?" It is more of a statement than a question. And when I respond with a, "Yeah, that's not going to happen," the meltdown begins.

When the girls make a mess, they know that they must clean it up. And then we tell them to clean it up. Five times. Eventually, Workaholic gets mad and tells them he is going throw out everything that is on the floor. Which creates an instant and very loud negative reaction from Sam, and Charlie usually just wanders away. I supposed she figures she'll let Sam get the attention for this, and Sam is more than happy to be dramatic enough for both of them. Last night, I came home to two screaming, sobbing, clearly traumatized children. Daddy had "thrown out" all their toys. Workaholic said that when he got out one trash bag, Sam immediately ran over to the cabinet where they are kept and tied the handles together with a string, and then ran back to him to try to rip the bottom out of the bag. He was pretty impressed with her problem solving skills. I was less impressed with that than the endurance of my kids.  

I know that kids thrive on routine and positive reinforcement and all that jazz, but sometimes that shit just does.not.work. And what do you do then? Besides tear your heart out and chug a bottle of wine. I actually totally get why Brittany shaved her head, being the parents of two kids, especially that close in age, will make anyone want to do something drastic.

I know that in 20 years me and my girls will have an awesome
mother/daughter relationship. At least I hope.

Giraffes and Tigers and Goats, OH MY!

So, hi! Whatcha guys been up to?

I went to Florida. With my husband. And my kids. And we drove. WE DROVE. Have you ever been in your car for 20+ hours with your kids and each other? Yeah, it. was. awesome.

And then we got there. And the weather was beautiful. And I got to eat cold stone crab claws with mustard. And we went to the Lowry Park Zoo, which is great for people with small children. We fed a giraffe. Well, we tried to feed a giraffe.

Can you see the lettuce gently falling to the ground?

Instead of being snatched up by that disgustingly long tongue?

 

The girls both LOVE turtles. They are obsessed with them. Do you have any idea how many different kinds of turtles there are in this world? A LOT. They are everywhere. And I am fairly certain that this zoo had every. single. species of turtle that exists. It seemed around every corner was another turtle, to which Charlie would scream TURTLE! and run away from us, with Sam yelling after her, "Charlie, you can't just run away!"

 

These particular fellas gave us some education on reproduction...

 

 

Then there was the carousel. Charlie would not sit still long enough for us to get a good shot. I think she liked it.

 

Ever since Sam was born, Workaholic has asked her if she is a squirrel or a monkey. Did you know there is such a thing as a Squirrel Monkey??

There is an actual, real Squirrel Monkey sitting on that branch behind them.

Maybe if I get a poster made, you'll be able to see him. Or her. Whatever.

 

A few short steps later, Sam took the opportunity while we chased Charlie around a tree to teach Baby Panda Bear all about orangutans.

She is actually pointing out the orangutan to him. Or her. Whatever.

 

Sam also wanted to take pictures, so we obliged.

It's a sleeping white tiger. She was perfectly happy that he stayed sleeping.

 

While Charlie fed a goat...

Sam did more important things, like read the map to see exactly where we were and where we would go next.

Which, as it turns out, was to see the wallabies.









 

After we visited the wallabies in their completely gated yet completely open habitat, it was decided that it would be best for all involved if we went home. So we did, and were happy with we survived another adventure to live to see another day. Specifically, the day we went to the beach. 



Little Girl-isms

Sam has always been a talker. Charlie...not so much. Well, she likes to talk a whole lot, in French. Or something else that we just do not understand.

The other day, while at the park, Sam fell running on a piece of playground equipment. She whacked her head on a metal bar in the process. When asked if she was OK, her response was, "Yeah. If I would just watch where I am going, things like that wouldn't happen!" OK...way to give yourself a lecture.

While forcing the girls to clean the playroom last week, Sam was literally walking in circles talking to her "friend" on an old cell phone. Which we seem to have in abundance in our house. When I told her to get off of the phone and help clean, she said, "MOM! Sshh! I'm talking on the phone!" And ran out of the room. Where I had to chase her down and rip the phone from her clenched little fist while she fought me and then threw a crying fit. SHE IS THREE.

Everytime Sam gets in our nanny's car, she goes on and on...
"Your car is so much smaller than our car. And you don't have a TV in your car like we do, because we are lucky."

"I've had a rough day."

"Mom, I can do it because I'm bigger than Charlie. I'm the big sister."

"Mom, Charlie is crabby today. I think we need to get her to bed early tonight."

Actually, just think of anything that a teacher would say to her students or a mom would say to her children, put it in a squeaky little girls voice, and you have it...a Sam-ism.


As far as Charlie goes...well, let's just say that she is a little more stubborn and defiant than her generally well behaved older sister. Some of her favorite phrases...

NO!

I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED!

Mm-hmm.(Instead of saying Yes, she says this in the cutest little girl voice ever.)

Beep-Beep Kale! or Beep-Beep Kabo! (just depends on who is in her way)

Soo-kee (her way of saying our new nanny's name)

I WANNA GO BYE-BYE!

I DON'T WANNA GO BYE-BYE!!

NO! I WANNA DO IT!!

Mo-om...I wanna watch George!

I wanna go potty. (usually said either after she has peed in her diaper or while I am trying to get her ready for bed)

I wanna brush  my teeth! Followed shortly by, "I want a vitamin!" (Flintstones really are the best, aren't they? I remember as a kid sneak-eating them, and way more than one a day.)

She is also one of those kids who thinks that if told no, then she has a better chance of getting what she wants if she just ASKS FOR IT LOUDER. Which, you know, totally works.

Fortunately for me, both girls have sort of potty-trained themselves. It is not an overnight process, or even a three day process. One day, Charlie just ran and peed in the potty all by herself. Then she started taking her diapers off because she just couldn't stand them after she peed in them. (Sometimes, not all the time. Which is why I am not pushing the potty training thing.) After she peed on the floor a couple of times, I started taking her to the bathroom about once an hour. Which actually works great. (It doesn't work great when daddy is in charge, and the timing is not quite right, and suddenly Kale is being accused of peeing on the carpet.) I've heard that potty-training girls is way easier than boys, and I totally get it. Sam was super motivated once she made up her mind, and Charlie likes to be just like her big sister. I just don't understand why she doesn't give herself lectures when she misbehaves.

Drinking and Daycare

Since the downhill slide that was last week, I've actually had a pretty good few days!

The girls started daycare on Tuesday. When I picked up Sam, she declared that she was NOT ready to leave yet. On her way home after the first day, she also declared that she was NOT going back there ever again.

My worst fear about daycare was getting the girls ready in the morning. I hate mornings, and can't get out of bed to save my life, so having to get up earlier than ever and getting both girls fed, dressed, hair done and teeth brushed and out the door had me in a panic. But you know what? I got up even earlier than I needed to and was so early to drop off Kale at doggie daycare they were going to charge me the early drop-off fee! (Don't worry, I got a one-time pass and I assured them that it will probably never happen again. Me being early, that is.)

The cool thing about daycare is all the neat stuff that they do and learn. Charlie was singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", which is a nice change from her usual Barney "I Love You" song. PS...she has never once sat down and watched Barney.

The not cool thing is how Charlie cries when I drop her off and reaches for me and is still sobbing 5 minutes later when I walk past her room again after I drop off Sam.

Sam has had some profound new thoughts as of late, and I would love it if she imparted her wisdom on her new friends at daycare...just so they can say these things to their parents.

"Bummer, mom."

"Shut up isn't a nice thing to say, unless the dogs are barking."

"I do NOT want to go to school! I am TOO LITTLE!"

"But that blanket is my faaa-vorite! I shoulda grabbed it!" (Said about the blanket which is identical to four others she has, but happened to be the one left at school. We have not made the same mistake again.)

"You can't take your clothes off at school...only at home."

"Ugh! Mom! You drive me to drink." (Umm...I have NO IDEA where she learned that phrase.)

Sam and Charlie are really starting to get along just as sisters should. Case in point. My mom called last night to see how daycare has gone that day. She asked to talk to Sam, which I was happy to hand the phone over. Normally, she LOVES talking on the phone, and wanders around the house, and does so on a regular basis, whether or not there is anyone to talk back.

This time though, she has just put a "tray" of "food" into the oven, and didn't close the door. As soon as Charlie saw that Sam was distracted, she bolted for the "food" and proceeded to whip it all across the room in seven different directions. Which caused Sam to LOSE HER SHIT and scream and yell and chase after a manically laughing Charlie, all while holding the phone to her mouth. Workaholic and I laughed and my poor mother had a screaming toddler in her ear.

We are all settling into the routine of daycare and work and whatintheworldarewegoingtoeatfordinner and "when will daddy be home?" I am hoping, no...praying for some drama-free months in which I get a lot accomplished and come out more sane and much happier. Wish us luck!

Fashionista

Yesterday morning Sam came into the shower with me, and after used some of my "jelly" to put in her hair. She then put on a headband and one of my summer sleeveless shirts, and wah-la! She was all ready for her day.

It's All About Communication

Whenever younger people (you know, those twoppers...otherwise known as "twenty boppers) complain to me about their husbands, or parents, or siblings, I am infamous for telling them, (as if I am some wise old owl) "Communication is the #1 thing you need in order to make a relationship work."

Yep, just call me a cliche. And a marriage counselor. (I briefly considered switching my college major to something where I would be qualified to be a marriage counselor. I decided against it because #1: it would require grad school and #2: you can't finish undergrad and grad school in four years. Which was the college deadline my parents I had set for myself.)

I sort of pride Workaholic and I on our good communication. And by that, I mean that I know I tell him all the tiny, minute details of our lives that he needs to know in order to do everything I want need him to do in order to make me happy keep our house running smoothly.

However, I recently realized that I may have overestimated our excellent communication skills. He has started "forgetting" things that I know I have told him. I was convinced that he is losing his hearing, much like his father. (what I now know is that he has what is called "selective hearing" and apparently is quite common amongst married couples.)  He will call and be like, "Did you say something to me about working late today?" After I have told him three times. In writing.

There also is this thing called "mommy brain", and I have it. I am the poster child for moms who can't remember where they put their car keys or if they fed their children or if they told their husbands that they have to work late and so someone needs to go home and take care of the kids.

So yeah...communication.

We took Sam's pacifier away from her about a week ago.  I have not slept a full night in a week. If I am not randomly waking up for absolutely no reason at all (other than I am a mom), it is because Sam is crawling into our bed. It would seem that she makes it most of the way through the night, and then something would scare her and she would crawl into my bed. It has been driving me nuts. I've tried talking to her, and all she will tell me is that, "My light turns off and I get scared and so I have to get in bed with you." (She is terrified of the dark and sleeps not only with her closet light on and doors open, but the lamp on her dresser is nice and bright too.) Her light "turning off" makes absolutely no sense, since I swear when I get up in the morning, they are all still on. If not more lights than were on when I left the room the night before. I figured she was either telling me something backwards or manipulating me. Three year olds are crafty, you know.

After a colossal meltdown this morning, I felt just terrible about yanking her pacifier from her. I thought this had to be the reason for her recent strange behavior. It has been a crazy busy couple of months, I've been working a lot since the new year, and then we just deprive her of the single, solitary thing that makes her feel at peace. (OK, to be fair, she has blankets too, and dolls, and stuffed animals, but the pacifier seemed to be her favorite.)  

So tonight, I caved. She saw a couple of pacifiers laying on a table that we had forgotten to hide, and she was on it like white on rice. I decided to let her go to bed with it. And yet, she fought me. She wanted me to lay with her, she wanted me to sleep with her, she didn't want to go to sleeeeep, she wanted to sleep in MY bed. (Umm...no. Kid, you have a damn binky, be happy.)

Later, I was telling Workaholic about how she was still a challenge to put to bed, and how I thought the problem with her lately was that we had taken away her pacifier without some cool story about the Pacifier Fairy coming and taking all the pacifiers to little babies who needed them. We just told her to suck it up and grow up. Such mean parents.

And then I told him (again) about how she was telling me (again) about how she comes down into my bed when "her light turns off". And how I just didn't understand that, because she always comes down in the morning, even before the sun rises, so she can't be confused and thinking that she is coming down when it is light out. And how I think she must really be having a problem with the busyness of the last month.

That was when Workaholic smiled sheepishly at me. OK, let's call a spade a spade. He damn well smirked at me. And then he says this, "Oh, I guess I had better stop turning off her lights when I leave for work in the morning, huh?" EXCUSE ME??? Then he says, "I don't turn off all the lights, just the lamp, and I leave on the overhead light on dim."

And it all makes sense. She hears him leave for work because the garage door wakes her up. She realizes that her lamp is off, the all-important BRIGHT LIGHT LAMP that she insists is on every night before we leave her room, (the closet light is no longer enough), she gets up, turns it on, and then comes down to sleep with me. Because she knows I won't walk her back to bed since she says she is SCARED OF THE DARK.

Sigh.

Communication, people. It is the cornerstone of a happy peaceful marriage.

(The sad part is, the more I think about it, the more I think I remember him telling me before that he did that. We'll just blame mommy brain.)

First SNOW!!

We got our first REAL SNOW today...

Happy to get ready

Excited to go play!

Sam is still happy...Charlie is not so sure...

Believe it or not, Sam laughed after I took this. She loves the snow!

She Is Three

Three years ago, I had just brought my baby daughter home. She was already Sam, not Samantha.

I wrote about her first year here.

I wrote about her second year here.

She has been here for three whole years. And she will tell you all about it.

She has recently, and by recently I mean yesterday, been weaned off of her pacifier. All we had to do was explain to her that she was now a big girl, she had her cup and her blanket, and she no longer needed her pacifier. And then reassure her (repeatedly) that all would be OK.

She is terrified of the dark. I think for some reason she has nightmares about trucks coming into the house...not exactly sure why, but she talks about it a lot.

She loves chocolate milk, and cookies, and brownies and candy. This is what happens when she has too much candy. Although sometimes that just happens, because she is high on life.

She is sweet, and adorable, and she knows how to get what she wants from who. Daddy and Oma are the easiest targets, me and new K are the hardest...although it really doesn't take much to sway me.

She remembers everything you tell her, so if you are going to take her to the zoo, you had damn well better plan on following through. She also remembers things that she has done at the most random of times. The other day she asked me if we could go to the fair, like she did that one time. (It was in August.)

She is the best big sister, and the past year has seen her grow leaps and bounds in that role. She infamously threw a bottle at Charlie's head the first time I took them in to visit my co-workers. But now she helps her and guides her and encourages her. "Good job sweetheart!" is frequently heard in my house.

Her smile lights up the room. Her laugh (and screams) echo throughout our house. Everyone who meets her loves her. Strangers even smile when they see her...especially when they see her talk to her little sister.

She talks...all the time.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Mommy...where ARE you?"

"What a great idea!"

"I think I'll just play the iPad for a couple whiles."

"I wanna watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Disney Junior."

"NO KALE NO!"

When we are in Michigan, she'll often ask, "Can we go to Oma's Michigan?"

When she was opening her presents on her birthday, she popped off...

"I have to go potty, I'll be right back."

She jumped up, ran in to the bathroom, and came out a few minutes later, ready to open more presents. When I asked her what her favorite part of her birthday was, she told me "the princesses." (Girl loves Dairy Queen ice cream cake. The edible image was totally worth the extra 5 bucks.)

She makes me want to bang my head against the wall, she exhausts me and I can't keep up with her. But then, she smiles at me. And tilts her head, and I melt. The past year has seen her grow from a little toddler who talked a whole bunch but didn't say a whole lot, to an opinionated little girl who loves nail polish and Minnie Mouse and doing things her way. She can show you where anything is in our house, and just how to make chocolate milk.

For the most part, she is potty-trained. BUT, if she doesn't feel like wearing underwear and going through the arduous task of peeing and pooping in the potty, she is fully capable of changing her own diapers. Not pull-ups, actual diapers. And if there are no wipes available and she did #2, not to worry...she'll just use clothes.

I can't believe it has been THREE YEARS. My little baby girl is THREE. Her hair is finally long enough to pull back in a pony-tail, except for the bangs she cut herself and the lock on the side that she hacked off in the bathtub one night. She is THREE. I love her with all my heart. She is the coolest kid I know, and I can't wait for the next year just to see what she is going to do.

Happy Birthday little girl. I love you bunches and bunches and bunches!

She cut those bangs HERSELF.

She Sleeps...and Sleeps...and Sleeps

When Sam was 9 months old, she started daycare, and so started semi-regular ear infections. The first one was just terrible, with her laying on me, burning up, barely moving, moaning softly with a 103 fever. I finally took her to the doctor where she was diagnosed with "raging" double ear infections.

As time went on, her symptoms got more minor. Her fever didn't elevate quite as much, she rarely, if ever, pulled on her ears, and her energy level barely dipped. Other than the flu one time, ear infections were the only sickness she really got that slowed her down. At all.

Around the time she was Charlie's age, she touched her ear once, and then went to sleep...for 19 hours. I checked on her a few times, and each time she was still breathing and didn't wake up when I dared to enter her domain, so I let her sleep. And then I took her to the doctor, where she was diagnosed with a "mild" ear infection. The doctor said she was doing exactly what she needed to be doing, sleeping it off. (Let's just say that I took that doctor's advice whenever I feel myself getting sick...I promptly go to bed, and stay there until I feel better. And PEOPLE, I swear it works! I'm sick for a shorter amount of time!)

Fast forward to Charlie being 16 months old. She has been sick exactly maybe once in her life. We had a very great, but long weekend with friends where she didn't sleep her usual 18 hours a day. On Tuesday, new K woke her up at noon (from going to be at 7pm). And then she went back to sleep at 3:30...and slept until 9:30am the next day. 18 HOURS people...in one shot! So then they went and played and had a ball, and she was laid down for her nap at 2pm yesterday. She JUST got up! 19 PLUS hours! I guess she is sick.

I'm not sure why I am telling the internet this, except that I want it written down for me to remember in 5 years. Or come on, let's get real...5 minutes. My kids rock.

Yep, I Have the Bestest Kids

I like to talk about my kids...but I don't like to be one of those people who talks about their kids. Today I am going to make an exception.

The other week, Pink tweeted that "ummm i just have to say that my daughter may be the most bestest amazingest stupendoustest baby ever made in the history of the planet."

And you know what? I totally get that. I do. But let's be honest...I kind of think I have the best kids ever.

For one...everyone is always telling me how cute they are. Like the woman in Target who was watching Sam roll all over the floor with her head on her jacket, instead of putting on her jacket like I told her to. And when she walked by and I smiled sheepishly and said, "Sam, seriously?" She smiled and me and said, "She is just so darn cute!" Random strangers in Target think my kids are cute even when they are crawling on dirty tile floors! (As this was happening, Charlie was trying to give the old lady in line behind us a heart attack by repeatedly standing up in the seat of the cart. She knows how to wiggle out of the seat belt. She'd stand up, look at the lady, giggle, get a smile out of her, and sit back down. Repeat.) 

Number two...They say the darndest things. And have impeccable timing. Last week, Sam wanted Papa (grandpa) to make her chocolate milk. She pulled out the cup and the milk and the Carnation chocolate. (I know, I know, it is Nestle Quik in my  house, but he drinks Carnation malted milk.) He was trying to tell her that she needed to use a sippy cup, because the last time he made her milk in a "real" cup, she spilled it. And she looked at him and said, "But Papa, that was your fault, remember?" Already using her cuteness (and knowledge of adult-onset memory loss) to get out of trouble. Then the other day she asked for juice. I told her, as I do every evening, that she could have water or milk. She put her finger to her lips, looked to the ceiling and said, "Hmmm...I think I'll have milk." And then she watched me open the door to the refrigerator. As I stood there, staring at the lack of skim milk (Sam's) and the small amount of whole milk (Charlie's), she popped off, "Oh mom! We are out of MY milk! And I don't like Charlie's milk! Maaybe I should have juice instead." Master manipulator, that one. And Charlie? Her first words were "NO KALE!" I mean, come on...how much more awesome does it get??

Three...Charlie sleeps about 18 hours a day. That leaves 6 hours for eating and playing. And let's be honest, after eating, there are only about 2 hours for playing. Which is only 2 hours a day that I have to keep an eye on her to keep her from destroying the house. Not to say that she doesn't destroy the house on a regular basis, but it is a lot better than a kid who goes to bed at 11pm and gets up at 5am and refuses to nap for more than 15 minutes. The best part is, when we do decide to jack with her schedule and keep her up and drag her all over hells' half acre, she is totally cool with it. Like, she stores up extra sleep to give her the energy to get through outings, and the holidays. She wanders around where ever we take her without a care in the world, stopping to say, "What's that?" and "Mommy!" (she calls everyone mommy) People are dropping dead at her cuteness when she passes by.

There are a gazillion more reasons why MY kids are the bestest. (I suppose everyone has those reasons about why their kids are the bestest.) And I know I don't always show how great I think my kids are. Oftentimes, when Sam is doing something that she really shouldn't be doing and random strangers or family members see and open their eyes wide and shake their heads, I will just roll my eyes and say something like, "Oh Sam, she really is something, isn't she?" as I drag her away from the edge of whatever cliff it is she is poised to jump off of. (Unless, of course, she already has, in which case I have to go pick her up and dust her off. Unless of course she has already landed and is off and running again.) And they will nod and look away, obviously thinking, "You really should do something with that kid." People don't realize that every day, we are trying to figure out how to outwit her. And we haven't done it yet. I mean...look at her! What is she...16??

But honestly? Her and her sister are the bestest amazingest stupendoustest babies ever made in the history of the planet. Really.

Sam's Sayings

Little kids say the damndest things. Here are just a few things that Sam has said to me lately.

"Mom, I'm leaving. You be good. And be careful. And have fun."

"Mom, here is a piece of paper. These are your markers. Only draw on the paper, don't draw on yourself. If you draw on yourself, I'll take away your markers, because drawing on yourself is bad."

"Mom, this is MY work. Don't bother me when I am working, because that is NOT nice. You work on your work, and I'll work on my work."

"That's such a great idea!" (usually referring to something she thought up)

"Awww...that is sooo cute!" (complete with little girl high-piched squeaky voice)

(talking to Sampson)
"Sampson, you are such a good kitty. I'll pet you nice and that way you won't scratch my face or bite me."

She was talking to 2 tax assessors I let in my house the other day (don't get me started on how bright it was of me to let complete strangers into my house) and when they asked her the cat's name, her response was something like this...

"This is Sampson. We had another cat too. But FelixRoger doesn't live here anymore. He didn't like it here. He lives down the street. He didn't like it here so he went and moved down the street."

The next two are a tie for my personal favorites.

"Don't you say no to me!"

"Mom, I just love you so much."

OK, maybe there isn't a tie.

Halloween: Part Two

I didn't have either battery in my cameras charged. On Halloween. Mom FAIL. (my sisters will say it is hereditary)

Sam was Minnie Mouse for Halloween.

Charlie was Alice in Wonderland for Halloween.

She never really stopped moving, this was the best picture I could get.

Sam peed herself while Trick-or-Treating and so that made for an early night.

Charlie spent most of the evening after they got home screaming at me because she wanted more candy. Girl after my own heart.

Sam did this earlier in the day, earning herself a bath.

Charlie has decided that she is never ever ever going to bed again.

Hope ya'll had a great Halloween!!

Halloween: Part One

My office had Trick-or-Treating last Friday.

No, I don't have any good super cute pictures of my kids in their Halloween costumes. I'll try again later today.

I do have this video of Sam, taken after she had about 20 minutes of unsupervised time with her C-A-N-D-Y.

To get the full effect, you have to have your volume turned up.
Disclaimer: To get the full effect, you have to have your volume turned up.



What? She likes to scream.

Regressed

Do you remember way at the end of last year when I was all, "I'm going to simplify my life." ? Yeah...I sort of regressed.

I knew at the time that the Simplification Project wasn't really going to work. I knew that there was a good chance that my husband would be taking on a HUGE project to do in his "spare time", and that project indeed did happen.

So the past 9 months have been a whirlwind of constant work for my poor husband. We did get away to Puerto Rico for a long weekend, and there have been other occasional days off here and there, but for the most part, him and his dad have been working 7 days a week since the beginning of February.

In the past 9 months, (since I am sooo smart) I pretty much gave up any sense of simplifying. I got another dog. I got another cat. (I gave away the 2nd cat the other day, wa-hoo!!!!) I've shopped relentlessly, to the exhaustion of my credit cards and bank account. My house was bursting at the seams with disorganization. But since Workaholic has "slowed down", things have gotten better. (Slowed down being relative, he now is working 6 days a week instead of 7, and usually only 12 hour days instead of 15.) He gets in these moods where he just does a clean sweep. Often that means putting things in closets and drawers, instead of sitting out on the counter. But it looks so. much. better.

Lately I've had a nasty case of writer's block. Of course, I only get it when it is time to sit down and write. When I am wandering around my house, folding laundry, or in the shower, or trying to sleep, I write the most greatest fan-tab-u-lous posts in my head. I tell you all these funny stories about what the girls or dogs or cats have done and people post it on Twitter and I get a gillion new followers.

What are those funny stories, you ask? Umm....well, there was the day that Sam took a brand new bottle of baby powder and emptied it. In her room. On her carpet. And herself. (How does a 2 year old get baby powder on her back??) Or there was the time that Kale was running into the house, at full speed, and didn't realize that the sliding glass door was closed. THUMP! And then one three nights Charlie pooped in the bathtub. Twice. Each time. (She hasn't had a bath since, showers all the way now. Although she still poops in the shower. Gross.) And Sampson. Well, he really hasn't done anything funny or cute lately. He is just being his dog/cat self. Which is pretty cool. I am quite interested in seeing how he handles the (much) colder weather and the snow, if he'll still want to go out as much. Felix, the new cat, found himself a new home down the street. So that was awesome. I dropped him off for the last time the other day. His new owner's daughter told me that the cat is now at the top of the list, as in...#1-cat, #2-dog, #3-kids, #4-husband. As it should be.

There also are not-so-funny stories. Fonz turned 12 last month. I knew he would get old. I did, I swear. But it makes me so sad seeing it happen. In the past year, he has dropped about 10lbs. I increased his food, and he gained maybe a pound. He had his annual well visit with our beloved vet Dr. P, and she noticed muscle loss in his hind end. Which helps to explain why his back legs give out on him sometimes. She also did the nerve test where you flip over his feet and see how long it take to right them. He didn't right his left hind foot. Workaholic says it is because he is so obedient, we put his foot in a position that he was waiting for permission to flip it. (Of course, I couldn't replicate it when I was showing Workaholic, so maybe he is right!) But that also explains the weakness in his back end.

Fonz is also now almost completely deaf. He can't hear you when you call, it is super easy to startle him when you walk up behind him, and when I give him commands, it has to be hand signals. Otherwise he just ignores me. (Good thing I taught him those years ago.) He has this weird tremor thing going on too. Every once in a while, he'll just be standing or laying there, and his head starts to tremble. It only last a second or two, but he is definitely unstable at that point. And can't move. Dr. P says that it could be seizures or just a palsy thing. Whatever that is. It makes me sad. I don't like it, not one little bit.

I know that Fonz's symptoms could have been gradually coming on for a while now, especially the deafness. But it just seemed to hit me like a brick wall this summer. First there was the mysterious toe infection. Then an ear infection. Then pneumonia. When all of that seemed to go away, he started trembling and completely not listening. Sigh. I am hoping he'll just stay the course now for the next couple of years. I don't expect his hearing to come back, or for his nerves to magically repair themselves. But hopefully things don't get any worse.

On a bright note, Halloween is coming! And the leaves are changing colors and being all beautiful! On a not-so-bright note, um...winter is coming. I can handle the snow. I can, really. What I can't handle is the cold that snow requires. And the length of winter. Why can't summer be as long as winter? It just seems to last for-ev-er.  And ever and ever and ever.

Next Friday I am taking the girls in to my office for our annual Trick-or-Treating at work. I love it. The little kids all look so damn cute, and the girls have adorable costumes this year. I did NOT sync their costumes, one has absolutely nothing to do with the other, there are plenty of years left for that. So I'll be sure to post super duper cute little girl costume pictures. Because my girls are cute. Or did you not know that?

OK folks, enough update for one day. I'll try to post tomorrow. I am going to Purdue football homecoming, so that may not actually happen, but we'll see. I'll try. I'll try to come up with a good story. And actually write it down instead of keeping losing it in my head.

There was laughing!

I'm not exactly the most hands-on mom.

By that, I mean, I really encourage my kids to entertain themselves. I have important shit to do, like laundry and dishes and read Scary Mommy Confessions.

When I got pregnant with Charlie, the first thing that people said to me when they realized that I would have two kids under the age of two was, "Oh, they'll be SUCH good friends!" And then Charlie arrived.

Sam LOVED her baby sister from day one. And by LOVED, I mean she head-butted her with love, she laid on top of her love, and she stole all of her shit love. I was beginning to doubt that these two would ever get along, since we simply could not teach Sam what it was to be NICE to her little sister.

And then yesterday happened. As per usual, I had the kids in the room with me while I put away a dozen pairs of shoes and some clothes I forgot we owned. (Yes, my kids wear the same clothes over and over, never wearing the super duper incredibly cute shit hanging in the closet with the tags on.)

And it happened.

Charlie walked over to Sam who was sitting on the ground. And she full on tackled her. I look over and both of them are giggling and there is NO SCREAMING. And then Sam started tickling Charlie and laying on top of her and there was MORE GIGGLING.

Holy shit.

People were right. They will play together. They will get along. I know there are many more fights and screaming and crying to come, but at least I know now, there will be laughing too.

One Year

This? Was a year ago. (OK, let's be honest, a year and 5 days ago)

This? Was a couple of weeks ago.

Yes, it is true, my baby Charlotte Mae is now one year old.

I can't believe it has been a year. I am a mom of two little girls. Who have the faintest of red hair.

And my little Charlie? Is an awesome kid, if I do say so myself.

She cuddles, she WALKS, she loves stuffed and animals and real animals alike. Her and Kale get along fabulously. Which is to say that they fight over his toys. (She may or may not have gotten caught recently eating dog food, chewing on a previously chewed rawhide bone, and feeding Kale her afternoon snack. And dinner. And breakfast.)

She can say Hiii, and MOMMY, and apparently Daddy too, although I have yet to hear that one. Since everyone was so happy to take Sam when she was born, Charlie is a bit of a momma's girl. She is getting better, but I'm still her favorite. For now.

While she isn't as great a sleeper as Sam was, she still will sleep 12 hours at night, just not as heavily. She'll play in her crib for an hour before deciding to get up, and then is ready to go back down for a nap an hour later. Unless there is something going on. In that case, she wants to be up and all involved in the action. 

I can't wait for the day when she takes Sam down. I have said this over and over, but Sam sort of deserves it. A friend recently brought her 6 month old daughter over. She was amazed at how rough Sam was, literally trying to rip her baby out of her arms. So I guess the fact that Sam will wrap her arms around Charlie and fall backwards with her isn't. quite. normal. At least Charlie is tough because of it. She hardly cries at all anymore when shoved to the ground. (And yes, we have tried telling her to "be nice" "be gentle" etcetcetc. Sam takes that as BE ROUGHER!! And then cries when put in time-out.)

I've fearfully started Charlie on whole milk, since the whole AWFUL gas thing that put her on soy formula at 6 weeks of age. And true to her form, Charlie handled it like a champ. She guzzles it down and doesn't even notice that there is no Karo syrup in the bottle. She has taken to sippy cups like a duck to water, coincidentally, she also likes watching ducks in the water. 

She likes the lake, and boat rides, and her cousins. She doesn't like running water in the bathtub, being hungry or thirsty, or people she doesn't know. She has mastered going up and down the stairs and has yet to actually go down them the wrong way. This time of her life is so far my favorite. Her personality is starting to shine, and I just LOVE it. I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I am guessing many take-downs and many more sibling fights.