live, laugh, and learn

first week

2012-02-29T21:56:00.000-05:00

These hands.

I'm memorizing every wrinkle and crease.

She sleeps with them up by her face. Don't bother trying to swaddle them down....she'll wriggle them right back up.

I'm in a kind of post-partum haze...a blissful haze. I am amazed by this baby. She sleeps. Unlike her brothers, Molly SLEEPS! During the day, when I can stand to put her down, in her swing or bouncy chair. At night, next to me in our bed (don't tell Wisconsin), nearly through the night. She'll wake to eat twice, usually, after we've gone to bed but never fusses or stays awake for long.

During the day, after a several-hour long nap and a tummy-filling meal, she'll have a quiet, happy, alert time for an hour and a half or so before settling back down to sleep. Each time she's cried (so far, only during an occasional diaper change and baths), the boys come running to her rescue..."It'll be okay, Sweet Girl, your big brother's here."

And are they ever. These boys are smitten.

(And so is she.)

My five-day old baby is SMILING. Such a Happy Baby.

Evan is proudly occupying the Experienced Big Brother role. He has taught Max how to properly hold a baby ("You need to support her head, Max."). He eagerly runs to find burp cloths, baby toys, or a dropped binky. And he just can't get enough of her. He actually says, on an at-least daily basis: "I just can't get enough of that adorable baby." Or, "Just what are we going to do with our gorgeous girl?"

He's in love.

And Max.

Oh, sweet still-just-a-baby Max. He's having a more difficult adjustment period. There's still nothing but love for Molly, but he's sad. Really sad and pouty. He misses me, evidenced by his frequent requests for me to "Put Molly in the swing, Mommy, so you can play with two hands." (Which, of course, I do when I can....which, with this baby, is pretty often.) He'll ask that Sam feed Molly instead of me. (Sorry, buddy.) And when I read and snuggle with him before nap or bed, he holds my ear and just stares up at me...as if wondering how long he has me to himself. It's heart-breaking. But he'll be okay. I'm just glad there's never been a request to send the baby back or anything like that. He loves his baby.

This baby.

Lesson Learned:

She's a dream baby. I'm soaking in every minute of her newborn stage. Committing it all to permanent memory. Because nobody has to tell me this time how quickly it goes by...

Love

the dragon lady has arrived

2012-02-25T15:05:00.000-05:00

It was Monday, February 20, 2012. Molly's Due Date. But instead of holding my baby or being in labor, I sat on the couch, with my two boys on either side of my big ol' belly, watching Beauty and the Beast.

My parents were on their way, to be here with the boys during The Induction that was to occur at 6:45 the next morning.

Induction. A labor and birth brought on by medical intervention. A chosen birth date. And possibly the hardest for me to reconcile with: I would miss that excitement, anticipation, and nervous-happy energy that comes with the onset of labor--the first contraction that makes you stop in your tracks and think "This is it! I'm going to meet my baby!" It didn't feel right. But, I knew why my OB wanted to schedule Molly's arrival....I had been measuring "small" for the past few weeks and there was a concern about growth restriction. It was the right call. I would be post-due (by a day). And all I really wanted, by whatever means necessary, was a healthy baby. So: Yes, please. Let me hold this girl. Bring on the pitocin. Induce me.

But....

Nope. This Dragon Lady had other plans. About thirty minutes after my parents got to our house, I felt that first Real Contraction. I had been having Braxton Hicks for weeks (months?) but, if you've ever felt the onset of labor, you know the one I'm talking about....the contraction that doesn't just tighten but radiates. There's a warmth that feels both physical and emotional....and I noticed it and thought......maybe, just maybe....

The contractions continued, but with no real regularity or any increase in intensity. I continued to notice them all afternoon, but didn't feel compelled to start watching the clock until I was reading bedtime books to Evan. By 8pm they were coming every seven to ten minutes, but they were still relatively mild. I could walk, talk, and breathe through them. I was still waiting for that one to take my breath away.

But they continued: I tried to watch The Bachelor, but couldn't concentrate because, by 9, they were a predictable five minutes apart. For the next hour, I waited for the contractions to become more intense...to feel like they were doing something to get this labor really moving. But still, they seemed Real, but relatively ineffective. I turned off the TV (even before the ROSE CEREMONY!) and started walking. At 10:30, I noticed that the contractions had been coming every three to four minutes for half an hour. Time to call the doctor?

I figured I'd call at 11, but didn't make it that long. At 10:45, the contractions were every three minutes and I knew it was time to go. This labor was easy, but moving quickly. And as much as I didn't want medical intervention to START the labor, I sure wanted a team around me for the actual delivery. I mean...can you imagine? Sam and my mom are great labor coaches but.....

So we arrived at the hospital at 11:45, paid our $600 co-pay (!!!), and I was wheeled up to labor and delivery. I was checked into my room just after midnight, where the L&D nurse pronounced me to be SIX CENTIMETERS. To which I said, of course, "SHUT UP! SIX?! But the contractions haven't even been HARD!!" She smiled and said, "Third baby, honey." She let me labor for the next 30 minutes or so and then said, "Okay, well, I'm pretty sure that if Dr. T breaks your water you're going to have this baby in minutes. Are you ready?"

Ready? Must you ask?! I was ready.

A few minutes before midnight, Dr. T came in, broke my water and waited. How fast was this really going to be? She didn't even have time to make her notations on my chart. She took one look at my face and opened the door to the hallway, calling for the delivery team of nurses and the equipment cart. She hardly had her gown and gloves on when Molly decided that, regardless of who else was, SHE was ready. Just an hour and seventeen minutes after our arrival at the hospital...

Molly Margaret

Born 2/21/12 at 1:02 am

7 lbs. even

20 in. long

(With birth stats like those, this girl's going to be a numbers girl.)

And she's perfect. Just perfect.

EVERYbody thinks so.

She's a little bit Evan...

...her color, her hair (a tuft in the back that she just may love to twirl, just like her big brother), her delicate turtle lips and perfectly round chin, her long fingers and long, slender feet.

And a little bit Max...

...her sweet round cheeks, her double chin (LOVE!!), her eyes that have more than a hint of blue (for now), her round button nose, and her perfectly crinkly ears.

She's a perfect, beautiful blend of my two gorgeous boys.

And, man, is she ever a Third Baby. She eats well when she's hungry, sleeps well when she's sleepy, and in between is quiet and alert and comfortable. She fits in to this family so well. She's perfect.

Our Molly. We're so glad you're finally here.

Lesson Learned:

And then...there was this:

Right in the middle of what turned out to be my last contraction, I had a...well, at the risk of sounding corny...I had a moment of clarity. A fact entered my mind...not a decision that I had come to, not a thought I even consciously thought...but right at the peak of the contraction, I knew...this would be the last time I'd experience this.

We've always said we would want three or four kids. Neither of us ever really felt strongly one way or the other, we thought we'd just know when it was time for a decision to be made. And at that moment, right at the moment when I would have wanted and needed to know....I just did.

This is it. Commit this to permanent memory: this moment of intense Work and Anticipation and Love, this moment immediately before I meet my baby, never forget it because you'll never experience this again.

It wasn't a sad realization. It just felt true; right.

And later that morning, I realized why...

This....

This is Complete. My family.

***

(But I still reserve the right to change my mind a few years from now....)

I take it back: it wasn't THAT bad.

2012-02-04T21:05:00.000-05:00

Thursday Afternoon.

2:15
Max is asleep and Evan is spending his Quiet Time on pbskids.org. I look at my hardwood floor (what "little" there is of it), obsessing over the opinion that they have been "improperly maintained." I figure I'll try to give them a quick shine before our 4:30 showing. It is a "Second Showing," after all, and I really want to impress the potential buyers.

I use a Swiffer wet cloth. It reacts poorly with whatever cleaning system the Cleaning Ladies had used the day before. Now the floors have a cloudy film over them. Oops. So I try to buff them with a dry microfiber cloth. On my hands and knees. At 37.5 weeks pregnant. They started to look better, so it's worth the significant uptick in Braxton Hicks.

2:40
I start to clean up the rest of the house.

The hardwood floors still aren't perfect. The afternoon sun shines beautifully through the front of my house. Bright and sunny and revealing all imperfections in the floor and...damn...also the storm door. That's a distinct Max Face Print right in the center of the glass.

Wash the front windows.

2:52
The phone rings. It's my realtor with the "Great News" that, in addition to the second showing at 4:30, another agent wants to bring back another second showing for...3:30. As in 38 minutes from now. I glance at the hardwood floor, glance at the monitor to see Max, still asleep, and feel another Braxton Hicks contraction come on. "Sounds great!" I say.

I give the floor yet another once-over, this time with a barely damp microfiber cloth. (I really don't know what I'm doing...I guess they really are "improperly maintained.")

I tell Evan to wrap up his game as I fly around the kitchen wiping down countertops and the faucet, and hiding phone cords and extraneous papers. I throw some snacks in my purse and bound upstairs to rouse the hibernating bear.

3:09
Max is up, changed back into jeans from his Comfy Nap Pants, and we're beginning the process of putting shoes on. Evan had, of course, taken off his socks to wear slippers all day, so the process begins with the repeated adjustment of the socks which are, at the same time, too tight, too high, and too bunchy. We get the socks right and we start on the shoes. Deep breath...I say to myself...we CAN get this right on the first try. Miraculously, we do.

3:14
Evan is putting on his coat and I enter the playroom to tell Max it's time to go. As soon as I open the door, though, Damn. First, SOMEbody needs a diaper change. And I hope that the room airs out in the next 16 minutes. [This is karmic balance though, for the funky bathroom we found after a showing last weekend. OMG.]

3:16
Fastest diaper change in the history of this house and we're out the door. I'm getting Max strapped into his seat and reassuring Evan, in the Way Back, that YES, you CAN get in your seat all by yourself! You're Buzz Lightyear, this is your Star Command! You CAN DO IT! But do it fast, we HAVE to leave.

3:18
He does a good job of adjusting his own shirt...no coat necessary today, thank goodness. I help him with the straps and jump in the driver's seat.

3:20
We pull out of the driveway. WITH 10 MINUTES TO SPARE. I pat myself on the back, thank the boys for their cooperation, and head to the library.

Which is closed. (?)

So we head to the Barnes and Noble Train Table.

Sam meets us there and, after killing an hour and a half reading books, playing with trains, and dancing on the stage, we head out to dinner. We get a call telling us that, at this very moment, an offer is being written up. I'm not impressed. We've had two offers already and they were laughable.

We finish dinner, head home, and get the kids ready for bed.

7:50
The boys are in bed. We're back downstairs. The phone rings. It's our realtors, with the offer details. We listen, we consider, we counter.

8:27
The prospective buyer responds. We ACCEPT THEIR CONTRACT.

8:28
We look at each other and say, "I can't believe we sold the house!"
I rub my belly and tell Molly that, NOW, she's welcome Anytime.

Lesson Learned:
We'll close the end of February and rent back through the end of June when, hopefully, our new house will be ready for us to move right in. It couldn't be more perfect.

We're not sharing the details with the boys yet, though, as any major change for them is still a long way off. And I don't want them to worry that we'll soon be living in this:

We'll wait until there are walls and windows, I think, before we start calling this "Home."

I think Evan's drawn his own conclusions about recent events, though, because when he asked to get out ALL of the GeoTrax this afternoon and I said, "Sure!" he looked at me a little suspiciously. "Because we don't have any more showings?" he asked. Just try to sneak something past this kid.

preschool diaries: valentines

2012-02-01T14:38:00.000-05:00

I've mentioned Evan's first school friend before. We've had her, a sweet little girl I'll call "A," over for a playdate (it went very well...so well that she is now Max's first school friend, too) and we, the parents in this friendship, have been in touch about setting up another.

He doesn't talk about her much, but will occasionally and casually say something like, "Listen to what A said today," or "A and I played on the playground." But he talks about other kids from the class, too, and has been invited to lots of birthday parties and has lots of ideas about the guest list for his own party coming up in a few months. So I'm listening to all of this "friend talk" thinking about how unbelievably proud I am of the growth in his social development in these past few months. Last year, at this time, Evan was just starting to engage with the TEACHERS and the CENTERS in his classroom. He didn't talk about the other kids at home and never interacted with them in the classroom. It's amazing how much he's grown.

And so, while thrilled to hear that Evan was interested in continuing to play with A at school (among other kids) and that he wanted to invite her over for future playdates, I didn't think their friendship was anything special or extraordinary.

And then, There Were Valentines.

Evan has worked really hard over the past week writing Valentines to his friends. Writing is not his favorite activity, nor his forte, so we have been just writing two or three a day. He's been doing a great job, though, and I'm beginning to see some real development in his fine motor skills, too. (Although, as an aside, he still switches between using his left and right hands. I feel as though this is part of the problem with his fine motor development....he's not using one hand consistently enough to strengthen it. I never hand him a pen. I let him pick it up in whatever he feels is his dominant hand, and regardless of the hand he uses to pick up the pen, his penmanship looks about the same and he says that writing is comfortable. I'm not sure what to do here....I think nothing, that experience will help him to determine his handedness, but I'm just really surprised that, at almost 5, he's still rather ambidextrous. Add that to the list of questions for his future kindergarten teacher.....)

ANYWAY...
So, it came time to put the heart stickers on the addressed envelopes. He added a sticker or two to each envelope kind of randomly until he happened to pick the biggest heart sticker from the sticker sheet. "Oh," he said, holding the sticker to the side and looking at his writing on all of the envelopes, "Hmmm...this is the biggest heart of all. I should give this one to A." And he scanned the table until he found her name that he had written. He put the sticker on her envelope and said, "There. Because, you know, my best friend should have the best heart."

And I melted.

*****

Today, when I brought him to school, A was standing there holding a big foam heart with heart stickers all over it. On BOTH sides. It had clearly taken some time, and she was only holding one: "Here you go, Evan," she said, "I made this for you."

He promptly yawned and "fell asleep" on my shoulder. (Smooth, huh?) But I thanked A for making such a beautiful heart for my sweet boy. I exchanged a smile with her dad and told Evan how nice it was to have a friend make something so beautiful JUST for you.

Lesson Learned:
As I left the classroom, I felt complete knowing that Evan has a friend. A real friend. A best friend....and most importantly, that the feeling is mutual.

I'm no detective, but...

2012-01-30T20:47:00.000-05:00

...the evidence is mounting.

There's going to be a baby in the house.

And it's going to be a "teeny teeny tiny whiny" baby (according to Max, who is, by this new comparison...a Giant)...

And, I know I'm no expert on all things girly....but....

That's more pink than this house has ever seen.

And, after much talking, reassuring, bribing, and careful word selection...

There has been some Carseat Rearranging.

Evan was not excited about his move to the Way Back. (Neither am I, to be honest. This just means that I'll have to climb over seats or through the back door to adjust his shirt/pants/coat/straps forty-two times every time we drive somewhere.) We talked about it for weeks leading up to the big move. Ultimately, Sam let him in on a little secret. "You know, Evan," he said, "Your seat in the way back is sort of like your own Star Command." This went over really well with Evan, aka: Buzz Lightyear.

"You can see straight out the front windshield AND the map screen. You're the navigator, buddy."

Evan's face lit up and his eyes got wide.

"You know what, Mom," he said as we got in the van this morning, "I was just kidding about not wanting to move to the back."

"That's great, bud!" I said.

"... ... ... Um... But what if I wasn't really kidding?"

It may take some time. But he'll be fine. And Max, true to form, was thrilled to bits to move his seat over to the (according to him:) Big Brother Section.

That leaves one seat open and ready for a baby bucket.

Lesson Learned:

We're ALL ready when you are, baby girl. But don't rush. It'd be awesome if we could sell this house first.

fun with selling a house!

2012-01-28T20:34:00.000-05:00

25

That's the number of showings we've had since listing our house. 25 times that we've cleaned up and cleared out for an hour or more so that people could walk through our house and find things that are wrong with it.

I'm trying hard not to take it personally. I'd be picky about my house-to-be, too. That's why we're building. Again. For the third time. But some of this "feedback" is starting to really irritate me. These prospective buyers have already, one would think, seen our realtor's website of our house before coming through. So they should know that, for instance, we don't have granite countertops. (I know. Can you believe the squalor we must live in?!) If we did have granite, you can bet that on the kitchen page of the website, it would include something to the effect of: Beautiful GRANITE Countertops! But it doesn't say that. It doesn't say: "Like-New Corian Countertops!" It doesn't say ANYthing about the countertops, which, if you've ever seen HGTV for even five minutes should scream at you: THIS KITCHEN HAS LAMINATE COUNTERTOPS. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Somehow, we've managed to survive in this kitchen for over five years. But I understand that, for some people, No Granite is a "Deal-Breaker." Good thing countertops are so easy to upgrade. And look at it this way, now you don't have to live with MY selection....ask for a couple grand off the price and pick out your own damn granite.

It's not just the granite.

We've also been told that, get this: We don't have an all-brick front. I'm shocked. All this time I've been living in a house with SIDING?! For shame.

Also:
We don't have "Enough" hard wood flooring.

The sinks in our master bathroom are "too small." (???)

Our (2-car!) garage is too small.

Our hardwood floors have been improperly maintained. (For the record, they look fine to me. Not even scratched. And are you supposed to do more than vacuum them? Who knew?)

And my personal favorite: There are not enough window coverings in the house. What the hell?

And to the poor guy who said he liked the house but he didn't like the neighborhood: You just missed out BIG TIME, buddy. You haven't met my neighbors. I'd pack these people up and bring them with me if I could.

We have had two "serious" offers. Both wanted to steal the house. One wanted us to give them the house and everything in it. I'm pretty sure they would have added "And your firstborn" if their realtor hadn't been there to advise them on proper Contract Offer Etiquette.

A few more people have indicated that they love the house but need to move in before our end-of-June ideal move time. One family wanted to be in by mid-February. We told them that we have a few things going on around then.

Lesson Learned:
I'm ready for this to be over. I've tried hard not to whine about it (although there are a select few who would say that I may not be trying hard enough), but I'm ready to sign a contract and have this part of the process behind us. I'm ready to have nothing to look forward to but getting settled in the new house.

AND THE BABY. Of COURSE the BABY.

the final countdown

2012-01-23T14:06:00.000-05:00

36 weeks

Four weeks (or so) until we meet our Little Dragon Lady. (It's official now--Happy New Year!)

This pregnancy HAS FLOWN by. All of a sudden, I'm in the final stretch...the final month. The nesting is starting to kick in now...the downstairs Changing Station is up and ready for some midday diaper changes and, hopefully, naps. The carseat, bouncy chair, and swing covers are washed and ready. (And we've been prepping Evan for his imminent move to the Back Seat of the van.) I've been stocking up on shampoo, lotion, toilet paper, diapers, and chicken nuggets because, you know, I might never leave the house again once Molly is here.

Even though this pregnancy has lacked the photo documentation that Evan's had (and even Max's, to a lesser extent), I have been remembering, every once in awhile, to take those Baby Book Essentials: Belly Pictures.

Baby Molly: 36 weeks

I may not be taking pictures every four weeks, but, you lucky little girl, your big brothers NEVER had photos like these:

Big Brother Evan: 36 weeks

Big Brother Max: 36 weeks

Love.

Lesson Learned:
And, in line with having fewer pictures...a preemptive apology: Molly, if you don't show up in the home videos until you're three and a half, don't worry....you've been here all along--despite what your taunting big brothers may say.

the wild thing learns his letters

2012-01-20T14:31:00.001-05:00

Max is into the alphabet big time these days. I attribute his interest to the hour we spend on Phonemic Awareness every morning. Just kidding. It's probably Super Why. Or, maybe the Starfall app we have on the iPad. Or maybe it's the If Evan Can Do It, I Can, Too mentality of being a little brother. But it's definitely no thanks to me or any kind of formal instruction. Regardless of HOW he learned them, Max, at just over two years old, knows all of his letters and sounds. Trips to Target and Kroger take forever these days because he has to stop at every sign and point out each and every letter. He sounds out three-letter words with alarming accuracy. This isn't me bragging about him. This is me reassuring you that technology really CAN teach your child. So go heat up that now-cold cup of coffee, Mama, sit down on the couch with your kiddo, and turn on some PBS. The kids will be fine. Smarter, even.

The other night, as I was cooking dinner and Sam and Evan were upstairs playing highway robbery or something similar with Matchbox cars, Max played with his magnetic letters on the fridge.

He wasn't just placing the magnets willy nilly on the fridge, he was carefully considering where each should go. Each letter had a place to be, and he knew how to get them to match his vision. As he played, he talked quietly to himself...saying things like, "Oh, look! More with the dots!" and "Curvy with lines!" and "Lots and Lots of Ms for MAX! and MONKEY! and MOO-GOO-ga-LOO!" When he had finished his masterpiece, he stood back, called for my attention, and said, "TA-DA! All the letters together!"

For the first time, I really looked at what he had been working on...

He had, indeed, been sorting the letters. As I looked over his work, I noticed all the "letter with dots" together, the Ms were in a corner together, the Rs were patterned nicely, the letters with cross-lines, Fs and Ts, were partnered up, and there were random pairings of Ss, Vs, Os, Ns, and Ws.

As much as I was privy to through his self-talk throughout the sorting, though, I wish I had just stopped cooking and watched him. The teacher mommy in me would have loved to have watched his thought-processes play out in noticing similarities and differences and deciding which attributes to sort. The proud mommy in me would have been bursting as I watched my artistic little boy play with the shape and appearance of the letters, instead of just their names and sounds.

But the Let's Get Dinner On The Table and The Kids To Bed mommy won. So instead, I had my back turned as I willed the pot to boil faster and scrambled to get apples sliced, yogurt served, milks poured, and broccoli, that I knew wouldn't be eaten anyway, prepared.

Lesson Learned:

Next time, let the pasta pot boil over. Don't miss these moments. And don't feel guilty about the TV, either.

Product Review: American Innovative Teach Me Time Alarm Clock

2012-01-14T14:28:00.000-05:00

This is not a "sponsored post." (But if American Innovative wants to send me a freebie for Max's room, I'll take it!)

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows our family (or who has read this blog) that we have a little bit of a sleep problem in this house. Evan has long been a night-owl/early-riser/awake-all-nighter (sometimes all three in the same night). We've never come up with a real solution to the problem, we just find something that works for a few nights (sticker charts, placebo "sleeping" vitamins, Good Night's Sleep Incentives, etc.) and we celebrate our mini-success. Then, the problem shifts, we go back to the drawing board, and try something new. Basically, we cope. So basically, we've been existing in a state of sleep deprivation for nearly five years. Five. Years. FIVE! YEARS!!!!!

Lately, our nighttime issue was frequent middle-of-the-night wakings, followed by middle-of-the-night insistence that it was ACTUALLY MORNING (because I would say idiotic things like, "Evan, it's three o'clock in the morning, you need to go to sleep), followed by a 5 am wake-up and a complete and utter disregard for the seriousness with which we would say, "We ARE NOT watching a show right now, you shouldn't even be out of your bed." And none of this, as you can imagine, was done/said pleasantly. There was whining, crying, yelling, demanding, and pleading because three exhausted, stubborn people do not act rationally or respectfully at one or three or five o'clock in the "morning" when they haven't had a good night's sleep IN FIVE YEARS.

But then....

I saw this....

http://www.amazon.com/American-Innovative-Teach-Talking-Nightlight/dp/B003D7KV0Q/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1326508614&sr=8-2

We've been using it for a week now, and, wouldn't you know it? This little thing just may very well save our sanity.

Here's how it works:

You set the Nightlight Timer for bedtime (the white orb glows yellow and, for most people, probably functions as a nightlight...but it's a "Not Bright Enough" nightlight in this house, so we still use the Original Just Bright Enough Nightlight). We set the time for 7:30 pm, by which time we're usually finishing with bath and winding down to books and bed. Then, you set the Ok To Wake Timer, at which time the glowing yellow orb turns into a glowing GREEN orb, signaling to the child that it's REAL morning, and it's okay to wake up. We set this time for 6:25 am, which gives Evan five minutes to turn off his nightlight and noise machine, tuck his bedtime buddy back into bed, use the potty and come to our room justintime for Wild Kratts to start on PBS. (At which time, Sam is up to shower and get ready for work, and I get to squeeze my eyelids shut, duck beneath the covers, and pretend I'm not being crawled on by a two-year old monkey who has, most likely, already made his way to our bed, too.)

Since we started using this clock, Evan still wakes up at night. But it's been only once or twice a night (MAJOR improvement) and....BEST of all....the midnight showdown between my definition of morning and his is GONE. Now, he knows that REAL morning doesn't come until the light turns green and, as argumentative as he can be, Evan is also a Rules Guy. If the nightlight doesn't say that it's morning, than it must not be. (I'm not sure my word doesn't hold as much sway as a clock, but whatever.) So when he wakes up to use the potty and needs to be tucked back in, or needs me to fix his covers (stripes on his comforter should be straight, sheets should not be bumpy, covers should not be too close to his chin, but not too far down, either, etc.), or needs me to tickle his back ("Because I just think that helps me relax enough to sleep."), I can happily oblige because he asks nicely and there isn't a 20-minute battle of wills to follow.

The first few mornings, he came into our room at exactly 6:27, suggesting that he had been lying awake in bed, staring at the clock, just waiting for it to change color. But twice this week (twice!!) he has slept in past 7 am.

Other cool features of the clock:

It's both analog and digital (or one or the other, you decide) to aid in teaching time. ALSO, if you press the button on the right "foot" of the orb, it tells you the time verbally. Evan LOVES this feature, and I think it really is helping him to learn time...at least he's much stronger in reading his two-digit numbers (up to 59) than he was a week ago. It's simple to learn how to use and, when your little one no longer needs to learn how to stay asleep, it can function as a true alarm clock.

But I seriously can't imagine a day when I'll have to rely on a device to Wake Evan Up. I mean, I can imagine it, just as I can imagine a day when I'll be surrounded by books on my Want-to-Read list and Vanilla Lattes and Words With Friends and be instructed to "Get to work!" But I don't think either will actually happen.

This clock? It's like a miracle you can plug into your wall.

Lesson Learned:

And in less than six weeks, we get to START ALL OVER again with a newborn who is going to insist upon seeing every other hour on the clock. Breeeeeeeeeaathe.

dragon lady

2012-01-12T21:44:00.001-05:00

I'm not really into Western Astrology. Partly because it's astrology, but mostly because Every Single Time I read my horoscope, it's wrong. In fact, the one time it was Dead On, I cut it out of the paper and carried it around in my wallet for more than a year. True story. I'm a Scorpio. Only, I'm So Not a Scorpio. I think I should have been born a week later, which would have made me a Sagittarius. And, it would have made my birthday 11/23, which are those numbers that always seem to pop up for me (for instance, I look at the clock and see 11:23 more often than 11:22 or 11:24 by a factor of, like, a million).

ANYWAY....

So I've never put much stock in Astrology in general, until I became pregnant with Evan. It started with a co-worker who stopped me in the hallway at school: "You're going to be such a lucky Mommy!" she began, "He's going to be a Golden Pig! But not just ANY Golden Pig....a Golden FIRE Pig! ...According to the Chinese Zodiac! ....It only happens once every 600 years!!" Curious, I looked into it after work. As it turned out, she was right: The Year of the Pig, as is true for all signs of the Chinese Zodiac, cycles through every 12 years. But the sign of the Pig, combined with the elemental sign of Fire, and the yin/yang oppositional forces, happens only once every six CENTURIES. (And the 2007 Baby Boom in China proves it...)

Evan was going to be my Golden Piglet. He would live a charmed life of comfort and wealth, with luck always by his side. He would be exceedingly intelligent with an insatiable curiosity. He would be sensitive and wise beyond his years. He would be a diligent worker, compassionate, and honest. He would be a giver. He would thrive in the company of others and provide entertainment for those around him. He would be a Leader. There are negative traits associated with this sign, of course; laziness, over-indulgence in food/drink, and a reluctance to ask for help, but overall, this was a Very Auspicious Sign to be born under. And my First Baby was going to be One Lucky Golden Piggy. My interest in this Eastern Astrology was piqued.

And so I looked up my own Chinese Zodiac sign. As it turns out, I'm a Sheep (or Goat). I'm creative, dependable, intelligent, and calm. I'm a natural nurturer. I'm comfortable being alone, left to ponder the workings of my over-active mind. My favorite place to be is at home. I don't need fancy or elaborate furnishings, just some comfortable pieces with touches of beauty through art or natural elements. A suitable career choice for a Sheep? A teacher of early-childhood education.

Yeah. I'm a sheep.

And then there was Max. And wouldn't you know it... My Wild Thing? My Independent, Persistent, "I do it myself!" Bull in a China Shop? He's an Ox. Max is hard-working and determined. Confident and tolerant. He'll listen to the opinions of others but, ultimately, make his own decisions. He'll prefer the companionship of close, life-long friends to hordes of casual acquaintances. He'll find his path and stay on it until he's reached his goal. He won't take short-cuts, knowing that the only job worth doing is a job done well. He'll be steady. Even. Reliable. Strong.

But Molly? Oh, boy. Provided that this babe stays put until January 23 or later, she's my Dragon Lady. Passionate, brave, and self-assured, she'll easily find her place next to her two big brothers. She'll be smart and enterprising with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. She'll be a risk-taker, enthusiastic, and wickedly funny. She'll have a natural flair for fashion, style, and beauty. She'll be overly generous with her resources and she'll leap before she looks. She'll be fiery and brazen, but in good fortune. In 2012, the elemental sign is Water. This can calm the Dragon and soften some of her dramatic tendencies. She'll be more open to the opinions of others, allowing her natural charisma to shine through. And shine she will. Bright and bold and beautiful.

I can't wait to meet my little dragon lady. Less than six weeks!

Lesson Learned:
Famous Pigs: Woody Allen, Steven Spielberg. David Letterman, Elton John, Hemingway. Kevin Spacey. Snoop Dogg.
Famous Oxen: Barack Obama. Van Gogh and Picasso. Bach and Springsteen.
Famous Dragons: The only one that matters: John Lennon

DO something

2012-01-07T13:38:00.000-05:00

You're shocked and saddened by the news of the little girl who died this week after suffering an allergic reaction at her school. You want to DO something about it.

Here's what I did:

-----------------------

The Honorable **********

United States Senate

Washington, DC 20510

Dear Senator *******:

I am writing to ask you to co-sponsor S. 1884, the School Access to Emergency Epinephrine Act, introduced by Senators Dick Durbin and Mark Kirk. As you are probably aware, a 7-year old Chesterfield, Virginia resident died this week after suffering an allergic reaction at her school. She did not have an Epi-Pen prescribed to her at school and so, according to county policy, no medication was administered to this child. Her reaction escalated until she was in cardiac arrest and, ultimately, lost her life.

I am the parent of a child with severe food allergies. Evan is four and a half years old and will be entering Kindergarten in the *********** County Public School system in the fall. He has had food allergies since infancy, although we are among the lucky ones; he has outgrown all of his allergies (there were 13 at initial diagnosis) except for Milk and Peanuts. I am confident in my child’s safety at school because he does have an Epi-Pen prescribed in his name and I will be vigilant to ensure that it is always up-to-date and accessible to him.

But the safety of other children is not so sure. Food allergies can develop over time. Children can experience their first allergic reaction to a previously “safe” food well into their school years. Similarly, a child who has a known “mild” allergy or sensitivity to a food can experience increasingly severe reactions over time and exposures to the food. There is just so much to learn about food allergies and the growing population of children who have them.

However, there is a lot we already do know. Children with food allergies are at risk for anaphylaxis, a serious allergic reaction that is rapid in onset and may cause death. To prevent death, anaphylaxis must be treated promptly with an injection of epinephrine. The Durbin-Kirk bill would encourage states to ensure that epinephrine is available in schools and that school personnel are trained to administer it in an emergency. Epinephrine is safe and easy to administer. Children are able to self-administer the medication, and any adult working in a school would be capable of learning how to administer epinephrine in a matter of minutes. If school staff and student population can practice what to do in the event of a fire through multiple school-wide fire drills over the course of a year, surely 20 minutes of a staff’s Back To School in-service can be devoted to Food Allergy Education and Epinephrine Administration Training.

Nearly 6 million American children have potentially life-threatening food allergies. Schools need to be prepared to treat allergic reactions in the event a student’s personal epinephrine auto-injector isn’t available or the student is having a reaction for the first time.

The School Access to Emergency Epinephrine Act is not a controversial bill. It is endorsed by the Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Network, the American Academy of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology, the American Academy of Pediatrics, and the National Association of School Nurses. On average it will cost a school just over $100 to have epinephrine available to prevent a fatality from anaphylaxis. This is a small price to pay to save the life of a child.

I hope you will co-sponsor the Durbin-Kirk bill and work to assure passage of this important and life-saving legislation. Thank you for considering my views.

Sincerely,

Sarah ********

Lesson Learned:

It doesn't take long. And is Well Worth It. Take a few minutes and personalize your own letter to your Senator. Start here: http://www.foodallergy.org/page/school-access-to-emergency-epinephrine-act1

food allergy tragedy

2012-01-04T21:41:00.000-05:00

A 7-year old girl died at her school this week as a result of an allergic reaction to, most likely, peanuts. Her family knew of her severe food allergies (which included peanuts and eggs, among others) and had an Allergy Action Plan in place at her school, which included the administration of medications in the event of an allergic reaction. She knew she was having an allergic reaction and went to the clinic complaining of a rash. At some point during the presentation of her symptoms, 911 was called. By the time she was being transported by ambulance to the hospital, she was in cardiac arrest. She was pronounced dead at the hospital a short time later.

There are holes in the story as it is being reported to the public. Was the Allergy Action Plan followed? Was an Epi-Pen administered? Did she have an Epi-Pen at school? How is it possible that she could ingest her allergen if she had known food allergies that were severe enough to warrant an Allergy Action Plan at school??

I need to know more about this, not only because I'm about to send my Epi-Pen carrying kiddo off to The Big School next year, but because THIS CHILD SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED.

Food allergies are common (5-10% of school age children have food allergies), food allergy deaths are not. And that's because there are prevention measures that can and must be taken to ensure that children with food allergies do not come into contact with their allergens (only eating food from home being the obvious one) and because there are ways to stop an allergic reaction once it has started (the administration of Benadryl at the first sign of a reaction and giving the Epi-Pen if the reaction progresses or at ANY point in which breathing/respiration is being compromised).

I need more information. Maybe an Epi-Pen was administered, 911 was called, and a second Epi was given (which is standard protocol if the first doesn't "work" within five to ten minutes of the injection). If this is the case, a tragedy occurred: A tiny body was unable to cope with a poison that, by some horrible accident, was ingested.

But what if?? What if an Epi-Pen wasn't given? Why wasn't it? Because someone didn't recognize the signs of an anaphylactic reaction? What if the signs were recognized but the little girl didn't have an Epi-Pen at the school (one report I read states that the mother tried to bring one to school at the beginning of he year but was told by a clinic aid to leave it at home)? What would you have done? You would have taken some other allergic kid's Epi-Pen and you would have administered it to the little girl in distress. You wouldn't have even thought twice about it because this is LIFE and DEATH. This is not the time to think of legal consequences of prescription violation or whatever.

But what if she were the only allergic kid in the school and there WERE NO EPI-PENS at the school? Well, there needs to be. If schools, restaurants, airports, shopping malls, and concert venues can have defibrillators at-the-ready in the event of a cardiac emergency, why aren't there Epi-Pens in every classroom, cafeteria, and school clinic to protect the lives of this growing population of severely food allergic children?

The Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Network is currently working tirelessly to promote legislation to make this a reality, in part because 25% of reactions that happen in school occur in children without a prior history of allergies, but mostly because IT COULD SAVE LIVES.

In addition to putting Epi-Pens in every room, every school district in the country needs to take 20 minutes of their Back To School Week lecture series and devote it to the education of teachers and support staff about the recognition of allergic reactions and action plans to follow once a reaction is underway. Because this IS more important than literacy, math fluency, team-building, and classroom decorating.

Parents of food-allergic children: review the Allergy Action Plan you have written with your child's doctors. Then, go to school. Sit down with the teachers, cafeteria staff, clinic aides, support staff, office personnel, and administration. Go over your child's Action Plan with them and review What to Do, How to Do it, When it Do it, and What signs and symptoms to look for. Review your Food Rules with your child (eat only food from home, only food with ingredient labels on it, etc. depending on your comfort level and your child's ability to verbalize reaction symptoms). Double check expiration dates on any and all medications needed in your Allergy Action Plan and make sure you have a complete set of medications at home and at school.

And then, hug your sweet child a little tighter tomorrow like I did today. Because I Can't Even Imagine what Ammaria's mother is going through tonight.

Lesson Learned:
I need to know the whole story here, because not knowing the details specific to this case make me think that this sort of thing can Just Happen. And it can't. It shouldn't. Yet somehow, it did.

twenty twelve

2012-01-02T20:53:00.000-05:00

I found it really hilarious to read so many Facebook status updates over the last few days that said something like, "Ready to kick some ass in 2012!!!" or "Bring it on, 2012!" In fact, I don't know if I have ever, in the history of my Facebook account, read so many similar statuses...all taunting the New Year to "bring it on" or conversely, alerting 2012 to the fact that people would be "bringing it" to the New Year. It was starting to read like the planning phases of a potluck.

I don't want to kick anyone's or anything's ass this year. And I'm not really sure what is being brought and/or delivered in 2012, but I think I'll stay out of that, too.

For this year, I just want simplicity. And that's easier to ask for than to receive in a year when, within the first seven months alone, we'll be welcoming a new baby, building a new house, selling an old house, packing and moving (just once, please), and traveling more than halfway across the country with three kiddos on two separate occasions.

But simplicity is what I want, and simplicity is what I'm going to work towards.

So, first up: Baby.
I wasn't, as my friend Chris recently pointed out, the World's Easiest Patient while in labor with Max. My body wasn't cooperating (partial placental abruption, baby's decelerating heart rate, contractions that were too intense and too close together to be productive, etc.) with what my mind wanted (a labor and delivery suitable for a Lamaze How-To video, like Evan's was). Luckily, I had a supportive husband and my mom (who had eight babies and eight unmedicated deliveries) in the room with me, wonderful nurses to keep me posted on what was happening with me and the baby, and a doctor who let me bully him into a Plan B when I refused to hear him out on his "We may need to consider a Cesarean Section" line of thought. And, in the end, everything worked out beautifully.

This time around, I'm going to, again, fight for my rights to an unmedicated/non-surgical delivery if all is going smoothly. But if things get scary, I'll keep a more open mind. What do I want this time around? A healthy baby. At any cost to my precious little birth plan.

And once she's here, Simplicity. I'm not setting up a nursery for her until we're in our new house. She'll have her co-sleeper in our room (ha! she'll be in our bed and we all know it) and her tiny little clothes in our closet. We'll haul the baby swing and bouncy chair out of the attic when she needs them. I'll pick up a few new binkies and toss her sleepers and onesies in the wash. Other than that, she already has everything she needs....blankets to be swaddled in, toys for her big brothers to wave in her face, and a ErgoBaby to be carried around in. I'm not feeling the need to wash/disinfect everything in the house this time around (although ask me again when the Nesting Phase sets in in the next few weeks...). And I'm not going to kid myself and sterilize the pump and bottles. She'll be just like her brothers and want/get nothing but Mama. And she'll be just fine.

As for the house we're building: Simplicity. We're designing it from the ground up (with help from floor plans found online and a builder who is as much artist as he is builder). We'll pick out the cabinets, countertops, lighting fixtures, appliances, tile flooring, hardwood flooring, carpeting, cabinet hardware, door knobs, mirrors, towel racks, smoke alarms, door stops, etc. as well as the location of all of these things plus the locations of walls, doors, windows, electrical outlets, light switches, etc. And that's just the interior. It should be pretty simple.

Or, if not simple, at least it's sort of like my DREAM COME TRUE. I've watched enough HGTV over the past decade to know what I like and what I don't like. And luckily, Sam and I are pretty close in our styles and tastes. So, in order to keep this process as simple as possible, we're going to make decisions quickly and not second-guess them once they're made. (And, I'm going to become a Houzz.com addict in the process.)

And then there are the flights....across the country....with two Big Boy veteran fliers and one brand new baby flier....and not just new to flying, but new to Life....and me, white-knuckled, barely breathing, and nearly sick to my stomach. BUT....we're flying to WEDDINGS! Weddings to welcome two wonderful in-laws into our growing family! Wonderful in-laws who are already, for all intents and purposes, In The Family, but with whom we can't wait to celebrate their excellent choices in their spouses! Who doesn't love weddings? I know Max will. He's been working on his Moves since before he was born. I can't WAIT to see him at the receptions. And as long as there are cupcakes, Evan will be in heaven.

As for the packing/moving that may or may not occur more than once, I'm just refusing to think about any of it until our house sells. Which, by the way, I'm also not thinking about.

So, Happy New Year! Go kick some ass or bring something somewhere....or something. I'm just looking forward to a Year to Remember....a year full of Big Time Changes for our family. A Year of Great Things.

Lesson Learned:
Channeling my wise and beautiful late Grandma: I will not sweat the small stuff. I will keep it simple. I will...Let It Be.

animal guesses

2011-12-31T15:04:00.000-05:00

Evan and I have a little bedtime ritual. After we read books, we play a game called Animal Guesses. It's pretty self-explanatory: One person thinks of an animal (the more of a "stumper," the better) and provides clues in order for the other person to correctly name the animal. It's a sweet, quiet, thoughtful time that I really love (and I love it all the more because it's a game that Evan "saves" for me....he and Sam don't play it on the nights that Sam reads to him, and when I suggested that he play it with Mom Mom on the rare night that we went out, he said, "Oh, no thanks. That's just a Mommy and Evan game.").

And the kid is really good at it, too. Some of the animals that I've had to figure out recently have included a bandicoot, a proboscis monkey, and a pipefish (the clue that gave this one away was learned in an Animal Dads book we have: "The daddy of this animal has the babies....and it's NOT a seahorse!"). He's getting pretty good at scaffolding his clues, too. He'll start, for instance, by saying that it's a mammal, allowing my guesses to be wildly random like Horse, Elephant, and Fruit Bat. Then he'll narrow it down, finally disclosing the specific fact that we have read about or watched on PBS's Wild Kratts. Occasionally he'll throw me off by providing a clue like, "It's medium-sized-biggish," or "All I can tell you is that it only eats plants. And sometimes meat. But mostly plants......and some meat." And sometimes he forgets that I'm the one he's trying to stump: "It's a reptile. Or an amphibian. Or, wait, what's a newt again?"

Last night, though, he was tired. I can always tell when he's really tired, like, doesn't-get-out-of-bed-even-once-after-I-tuck-him-in tired, because he gives away the answer without even trying to stump me. After correctly guessing my Clouded Leopard in just four clues, Evan yawned and said, "Okay, I have one: it's a longish, snaky animal. And it lives in the Eastern part of the....hmmm? The country? Or World? I don't know, exactly. I just know it lives in an Eastern part. And it has a pattern on it's back that looks like diamonds. And it's got a special rattling tail." I thought really hard before guessing: "Is it an Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake?"

"Man, Mommy," he said, his eyes already closing, "You're getting really good at this game."

Lesson Learned:
THAT. That, I love.

post-christmas

2011-12-30T21:09:00.000-05:00

On Christmas morning, Evan ran into our room at about 6:15 (not bad at all) and woke us up with an excited: "Let's go see if Santa ate up his cookies!" .... and maybe brought you millions of new toys? Max, who had started rolling around and talking to his buddies in his crib about five minutes before, was quickly brought up to speed that it was, at last, Christmas morning: "Woohoo!" he cried, "Let's go find Bear Ticklish!" ....uh, he's back at the North Pole with Santa, buddy. Am I the only one who is practically jumping up and down in anticipation of The Discovery Of The Loot??

That all changed, of course, once we rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Max first spied his trampoline....

...and stayed right there for most of the morning. In addition to jumping, during which he repeated over and over, "Look! Look! I'm getting bigger and bigger and bigger! I'm JUMPING!" he used the bar as a monkey swing...

...during which he commanded: "Watch me, my family of monkeys! I'm swinging on my monkey swing!" And we all had to, of course, stop what we were doing, watch him swing, and respond, "Ooh Ooh Ooh, Aah Aah! Good swinging, Little Monkey!"

Evan's immediate favorite was the Samurai Ninja Castle. This was a last minute switch on Santa's part, who had originally chosen the Bat Cave for him. At Target, about a week before Christmas, though, Evan ran up to the Samurai castle and started waxing poetic about it's Coolness. I showed him the Bat Cave and casually suggested that it (with it's fully functioning elevator and Top Secret Entrance!) was pretty awesome, too. "Yeah, I guess so," Evan admitted, "but this Ninja castle is...So....So....Cool." So a quick, coded call to Santa's helper later, and the switch was made.

....and I'm so glad we did. He LOVES the thing. It's been the first toy, really, that he'll play with, totally independently, for an extended amount of time. It's pretty amusing to watch him play with it, though...as he has No Idea what a Ninja or a Samurai actually is. He uses the zipline and the glider features...and occasionally the "Samurai Disc Blaster" as a "Pizza Thrower." Other than that, though, there's a lot of: "Can I come into your castle? No, you may not. And if you try, I'll bonk you down with my Ninja Glider! Ah HA HA HA HA!"

But beyond the first faves, I must say that this was pretty much a Home Run Christmas. EVERYthing was played with....even if it did take Evan about three hours to open each of his gifts.

And, now that we're home from our post-Christmas trip to visit family, we're rediscovering the joys of the Christmas Loot all over again.

And Magic? Yup, there was that.....when Evan opened up THE Police Crane Rescue Truck, he just stared at it for a minute....then turned to me (who was, of course, ready and aiming the camera)...

....and then he said, "Do you think Santa snuck into Target and got this for me?"

Lesson Learned:
We did have our moments of Too Much Holiday, to be sure. Like when Max split his forehead open on the dining room chair during Christmas dinner (and kept a goose egg bruise to show off for the next few days). And the fact that neither boy slept from the hours of 2-4/5 AM either night we spent (all in the same room) at my parents' house. Or that one time (or dozens of times) that there was pouting and/or tears when the Christmas Cookie Quota had been reached for a particular day. And then there was that Oh-No-He-Didn't moment when Evan suggested that I "knock it off." Oh, yes he did. But I have a feeling that'll be the last time he try out that phrase on his Mommy.

But in all, it was the most Wonderful Time of the Year. It was busy, over-sugared, under-rested, over-stimulated, and Everything I hoped it would be.

And now the decorations are all put away, the toys have found their new homes, and I'm ready for a good night's sleep.

the adventures of bear ticklish: the final chapter 2011

2011-12-23T20:12:00.000-05:00

I can't believe he leaves us tomorrow.

The following photos were discovered on the camera (which was sitting beside our Elf on the counter, power on, lens cap off) the morning after Evan learned how to use the Timer function on our camera. Turns out, Bear Ticklish was paying attention to the tutorial as well, and wanted to try his hand at Being The Photographer.

Evan said, "Oops! Try again, Bear Ticklish!"

On our final night of Elf Adventures, Bear Ticklish hung on tight to the Stockings To Santa countdown garland. Every morning the boys watch eagerly as Rudolph jumps (with Sam's or my help) one Stocking closer to Santa. Tomorrow morning, they'll find that Bear Ticklish already moved him ahead, in anticipation of the big day.

Lesson Learned:
Oh, Bear Ticklish. We'll miss you little buddy.

maxwell

2011-12-21T15:22:00.000-05:00

My Maxwell. My silly, sweet, dance-with-his-whole-body Big Boy. He's changed so much over the past few months. (Almost) Gone are the days when he would run, laughing maniacally over his shoulder, away from me in Target. He asks politely now to get out of the cart with a promise of, "I'll walk gently with you, Mommy," which he always keeps. He's helpful while shopping and patient while we adjust his brother's straps for the 100th time when getting back into the car. I mean, VAN. (And I'd better not forget it.)

Max is confident. He'll often wander away from whatever activity Evan and I are involved in and find his own game, perfectly content to be on his own, yet anxious to return to share with us the funny new game he's come up with. Lately, his favorite is to march around the house waving two three-foot-long dowel rods in the air. (He's my second kid, so I let him. Molly will be juggling flame-throwers when she's two.) While marching and waving poke-someone's-eyes-out sticks, he sings at the top of his lungs, "MarCHING band! MARching band! Marching BAAAANNNDD!" The game, naturally, is called Marching Band.

Sometimes, if Evan is feeling less-than-thrilled to be his audience, Max will create his own cheering section. He "very gently, Mommy, don't worry" carries the Nutcracker collection from the window sill in the dining room to the kitchen floor...

After he lines them up very deliberately, each in their own individual tiles, he continues on with his Marching Band parade circle around and around the kitchen/hallway/dining room loop, with the Nutcrackers enthusiastically applauding his show. This can go on for dozens of minutes at a time. Dozens.

But even when the parade is over, the Nutcrackers remain the favorite toy of late. Max brings them to the coffee table, arranges them just so, and talks to them.

He tells them about Bear Ticklish's latest adventure or what he hopes Santa brings him. (Which, as of yesterday, was "Puzzles, just puzzles," which is unfortunate because I happen to have already wrapped his presents from Santa, and guess how many are puzzles? Right. So, maybe I'll be making an unexpected trip out all by myself between now and Saturday night.) Once, I even overheard him confessing to the Nutcrackers his anxiety over staying with a babysitter for the first time.

I was surprised to hear him say, "It'll be hard, very hard," because I didn't even know he was listening as I talked to Evan about the approaching Night With A Babysitter....because Max wasn't even supposed to know about the Babysitter...he would be in bed before she even arrived...and when the big night arrived, he was--he had no knowledge that she was even here! Several days later, he told the Nutcrackers how much fun he had with Maddy the Babysitter...

But getting back to the puzzles.... This kid is hooked. Now that he's mastered the 24-piece board-puzzles, he takes two out at a time, dumps and scrambles all the pieces together and gets to work sorting and completing the puzzles simultaneously.

I mean, he must be some sort of genius kid to figure out how to create his own problem-solving Challenge Round, right?

And then, in the very next minute, he'll dump all of the balls out of the ball bin, put the ball bin over his head, and walk around the house bumping into walls and furniture...having the time of his life.

My brother said, in the most loving and affectionate way, "He's JUST LIKE the kid from Parenthood."

And he is.

And he just melts me when he greets Evan in the morning with a bear hug and an, "I just love you, Evan." Or when he crawls over to my lap, "opens" my tummy and kisses it with a, "Hiya, baby Molly girl!" Or when he curls up against me while I read to him in his rocking chair, with the binky that he now just uses at sleep time, and reaches up to hold my ear.

My Maxwell. Who is thisclose to becoming a Big Brother, and who will step into that role as he's mastered every other milestone to date: with confidence, ease, and humor. My Maxwell, who is still so little, yet who already knows how to use those big, blue eyes to get me every time. My Maxwell, who is always willing to play Jessie to Evan's Buzz Lightyear...not Woody, not even Lotso, but Jessie, Every Single Time, with no complaints.

Lesson Learned:
My Maxwell, who just woke up from his nap and is calling for me...so this post, for now, is complete.

north african curry

2011-12-19T13:33:00.001-05:00

I have been loving curry recently...I'm not sure if it's a true pregnancy craving, I'm not having Sam run out at 9 o'clock at night to pick some up or anything (which I've been known to do for macaroni and cheese and Papa John's breadsticks), but I've been loving it nonetheless. We've had our fill of the mild Thai green curry recipe, though, and I wasn't sure if the boys (or my heartburn) would appreciate spicier Indian curry at the moment, so it was time to expand our culinary map.

I read a bunch of North African Curry recipes on various online recipe finder sites (food.com, allrecipes, etc.) but, of course, failed to bookmark any of them, so when it came time to cook, I had to kind of wing it. It worked, though! So here it is, recorded for all of Internet eternity, so I never have to fail to bookmark it again.

North African Curry

1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-in. pieces
one onion, chopped or sliced
little bit olive oil

cherry tomatoes, quartered
three or four celery stalks, chopped
1/2 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

spices (all amounts approximate)
*3/4 tsp. cumin
*1/4 tsp. turmeric
*1/4 tsp. cinnamon
*1 tbsp. (maybe less) parsley (I used dried, but would have used fresh if I kept fresh herbs around)

chicken broth, maybe 1 cup, maybe more if you want it more soupy
cous cous, cooked

Make it:
Cook onions over medium-high heat in a bit of olive oil until they just start to turn translucent. Add chicken and cook several more minutes until starting to cook through. Add veggies, chickpeas, and spices, stir to coat evenly. Add broth, cover, and reduce heat. Let simmer for 20 minutes or so. When I lifted the lid after about 20 minutes, it was really soupy. I cooked it for several more minutes, uncovered, to thicken it up a bit. Serve with cous cous.

Lesson Learned:
I LOVED this. So did Sam. So did Max! He ate up every bite (but this is also the kid who eats raw onions and olives by the handful). Evan wasn't into the cooked veggies or the sauciness, but devoured all of the "Yellow Chicken." I may throw in some carrots next time, too. And maybe some spinach leaves at the very end. Not that he'll eat those either, but that's why I serve "safe sides" (raw carrots, apple slices, yogurt, dried fruit, etc.) at every dinner, especially when we're trying new dishes. This one's going into the rotation for sure.

movin' right along

2011-12-15T21:14:00.000-05:00

The sign makes it official.

We're moving.

And I'm So Excited about it. We're heading to a small town outside of a small city close to where we are now. I've lived there before and have wanted to return for a long time. Forever?

We chose this. Where we live now is where Sam grew up. I moved here after we became engaged and moved immediately into the safety net of having my fiance, my sister, and my brother-in-law here. It's always been comfortable, but it hasn't ever really felt like home. I don't know if our new city will feel like home right away, but since it's where we plan to raise our family, it will Become Home. And until it feels like Home, it will feel like an adventure. An adventure we're embarking on as a Family....without a safety net of built-in friends and family...Just Us. And that feels right.

We're so fortunate....Sam will continue to work for the same company: they have generously agreed to allow him to work remotely, although he won't work from home. I don't think he'd get anything done with two little "Chase me, Daddy!" boys aware of the fact that he was just behind a closed door. And I think I'd probably take advantage, too: "Can you just keep an ear open while I run to the post office really quickly?" So he'll rent office space nearby. Goodbye forty minute commute!

This move is a good thing.

It will be.

Right now, though, it feels a little bit like I became a crazy person at some point in the last few months and started making decisions for rational me....Making decisions disregarding the fact that I have a very sensitive little boy who is going to start kindergarten in the fall (big change) and who doesn't very well like Big Changes. Add "Moving To A New House In A New City" to "Starting Kindergarten" and we may have two crazy people in the family. But moving now, before Kindergarten, is definitely better than delaying this Big Change until after he becomes settled in school.

But I'm also sort of putting out of my head the fact that we have a very tight window of time for this move to be even a little bit convenient. We want to stay where we are until Evan finishes preschool (early June), but we want to be settled in the new place before Evan starts Kindergarten Camp in early July. We also will be traveling across the country in July to attend my brother's wedding (yay!). AND...we're building the new house...so...well, I'm trying to be optimistic. I really don't want to move twice, but at some point I may need to consider this possibility.

And I'm DEFINITELY in denial over the fact that, at some point, in the middle of showing the house, selling the house, building a new house, packing and moving (maybe, gulp, more than once)....I'M GOING TO HAVE A BABY. And then once Molly is here, I'll have a newborn. And a big boy who's going to need a lot of patience, reassurance, compassion, and support. AND a tornado-two-year old.

Oh, my.

Lesson Learned:
But this is a GOOD THING. We're HAPPY about this move. Seriously. Things will be crazy for a bit, but then it will be over. And when it's over, we'll be settled. We'll be raising our children in a place that we chose, not out of convenience or familiarity, but on purpose. Because the people are good, the schools are great, and the natural beauty of the place is breathtaking. Seriously: there's an apple/peach orchard less than ten minutes from our house. As you drive into our neighborhood, you see the houses nestled in a little valley with the mountains rising in the background. And our house? It's going to be amazing. Our Forever House.

So let the crazy begin!

decking the halls

2011-12-12T13:40:00.000-05:00

I have de-Grinched. Here's what helped...

A Christmas tree farm with a FRONT LOADER to play on?
Perfect.

Hide and Seek in the trees

First Ever Gingerbread House decorating.
No worries about the milk in the royal icing this year!

Just one more gumdrop, mom, PEEEAASSSE?

A day behind schedule, but worth the wait...

Lesson Learned:
But what is REALLY reminding me to keep my cool...

...and...

The shopping is done and the moods have lifted. Time to start baking, wrapping, nesting, and ENJOYING the season. Fa la la la la, la la la la.

the adventures of Bear Ticklish: part 2

2011-12-12T13:03:00.000-05:00

That little Elf of ours is starting to get adventurous...

And helpful...he tried to string the lights on the tree...

The next night, he started bringing over truckloads of decorations...

He found our shelves of family pictures and felt left out...

This was the hardest hiding spot for the boys to find...

The zipline! From ceiling fan to Christmas tree...

Peek-a-Boo!

Ball Pit Bathtub!

Lesson Learned:
This really is one of my Absolute Favorite Traditions we've ever brought into our family. Two weeks of hiding spots to go!

the Grinch

2011-12-08T20:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I didn't STEAL Christmas. Just delayed it. And not all of it...just the tree decorating. And only for a day. But I still feel awfully Grinchy tonight. And I could really go for a glass of wine. But I'll settle for some sparkling pomegranate juice and chocolate. Sigh.

I didn't take it away for no reason, though. I was trying to make a point. A very I'm-at-the-end-of-my-rope-and-out-of-ideas point, but a point. Here's the trouble: The whining in this house is Out Of Control. So is the demanding. And the not listening. I'm tired of the 2-year old looking at me deviously and walking (running) in the opposite direction of where I'm asking him to go. I'm tired of the 4-year old demanding that I wipe his boogies and then whining that I DIDN'T WIPE HIS BOOGIES RIGHT. I'm tired of declaring to a might-as-well-be empty room that "Lunch is ready! Come on in!" I'm tired of spending LITERALLY three or four minutes adjusting the jacket, pants, straps, and seat back Every Single Time I strap Evan into his carseat. Three or four minutes that, trust me, feel ENDLESS when the child is squirming, whining, crying about "It's STILL uncomfortable!" and there's NOTHING I can do to fix it. I'm tired of asking Max to help clean up or to come upstairs to get dressed and receiving an, "Um, No. I don't want to," in response.

I'm just tired. Today, of all recent days, was Especially Tiring. Everything just felt harder than usual today.

And then tonight, after I asked Evan to put the (toy) screwdriver away because, in this house, we don't poke our brothers in the face with screwdrivers, and got an "It's not fair!" shriek in return, I was spent. I wasn't in the mood to decorate the tree. I wasn't in the mood to listen to Christmas music on the radio and reminisce about Christmases past as we unwrapped the memories stored in our ornament bins. And so....I Grinched it. Instead of decorating the tree, we had a Family Meeting. There will be changes in the voices used in this house immediately, or there will be consequences: If Evan whines about something or makes a demand, instead of saying, "Try again in a nice voice," our answer will be, "No." He already knows that he needs to use a nice voice. He's old enough and smart enough for this tougher approach. With Max, it's trickier, because his not-listening/limit-pushing behavior is age-appropriate...just still tiring. We'll just have to do less direction-giving and more taking-by-the-hand-and-leading to making good choices. There was pouting: "I'll just decorate the tree myself then," Evan said. And I felt bad.

But we'll make up for it tomorrow when, after a pleasant day of Big Boy voices, sweetness, cooperation, and Direction Following, we'll turn the radio up, unpack those ornaments, and try to keep Max from bulldozing the tree down.

Lesson Learned:
Sometimes I find myself being overly dramatic in parenting. But I think this meant something to them. It didn't devastate them...they know that we're all set to decorate tomorrow....but they had been looking forward to this all day, so they recognized it as a consequence. And so do I.....

I'm ready for that Magical Holiday Spirit to overtake me....and the boys. Where are those Christmas Unicorns and Rainbows I keep reading about on Enjoying the Small Things, and where can I get my own??

the adventures of Bear Ticklish: part 1

2011-12-04T14:15:00.000-05:00

Having an Elf back in our house is wonderful. Every morning, Max and Evan race downstairs to be the first to spot him. "Oh, Bear TIIIICKKKKLIIIIIISH!" Max calls, "Where AAAAARRRRRREE you?!" Max is an especially good Elf Spotter. We've been using him to our advantage, "Remember...Bear Ticklish is ALWAYS watching!" But we're trying to keep it more positive than negative (for instance, I'll say "I'm sure Santa will be so happy to hear that you chose to share with your brother," a second before the "choice" to share had even been made). Although, I'm pretty sure we've threatened that Santa is Not Happy to hear about little boys who Do Not Stay In Their Beds at least a time or two.

Our Elf is slowly getting reacquainted with our house and toys....I have a feeling he's going to be getting into more and more mischief as the countdown to Santa continues, but right now, he's just getting comfortable.

Lesson Learned:
Keep sending your own Elfing ideas and suggestions! We're keeping a list. (And checking it twice! HA!) (Sorry. Couldn't help it.)

Max's Blue Period

2011-12-01T17:38:00.002-05:00

It was very quiet in the playroom. Too quiet, considering Max had been in there for several minutes unattended. I went in to peek and saw him working on this:

At the time, it was unfinished. He held a blue wipe-off board crayon in his hand, but stood several paces back, considering his work. He approached the board and added a few more strokes to the upper right corner, then again took a step back. He continued to do this several more times and then he turned around to call me. Seeing me already standing behind him startled him, "Oh! Hi Mommy! I'm gonna call you and see my pretty picture!"

"It's beautiful, babe!" I gushed, "Tell me about it!"

"It's blue," he began, "and an X..."

"...and more blue. Lots and LOTS of blue."

I told him how much I loved his color choices and then we left the playroom to find his brother. About 10 minutes later, he stopped what he was doing and ran right back to the playroom saying, "One more time blue."

He popped his head out, called me in to see, and, with blue crayon still in hand announced, "There. All done now."

Lesson Learned:

I've said it before and I'll say it again. My Maxwell? He's an artist. He's even developing his process. I just love this kid.

more fun with painter's tape

2011-12-01T17:24:00.000-05:00

Our morning activity:

Needed:
Painter's Tape
cars and trucks

Lesson Learned:
This was fun. For about five minutes, for me and Max. It was fun All. Day. Long. for Evan. But only if I would please play with him, too. And the "Mommy needs a break from playing Spy Race Cars on a Mission," didn't go over well. And so I, with my big ol' belly, crawled around on my hands and knees and we played Spy Race Cars on a Mission All. Day. Long. And our one break of the day, a trip to Target, was spent talking about the Missions we would go on when we got home. But now Daddy's home to take over. Phew.

make-your-own felt Christmas tree

2011-11-28T14:22:00.000-05:00

Oohhhhhhhh, Pinterest.

As much as you waste my time and fill my to-do list with things I'll never actually do....I still love you. Because of things like this...

So here's what you need:
*1 yard green felt (the fabric is folded in half on the bolt so this will give you enough for two trees...but definitely get a full yard, a half would yield a skinny Charlie Brown tree.)
*sheets of colored felt (I found some 9"x12" sheets in a ton of colors at Hobby Lobby that 25 cents each...I think I bought 7 sheets, which, at about 6 ornaments per sheet, made plenty of ornaments for two trees.)
*scissors
*glue gun
*ornament-shape templates (I used cookie cutters, you could free-hand them or print something out, I'm sure.)

Step 1: Trace your ornament shapes onto the colored sheets of felt.
Step 2: Cut them out.
Step 3: Using the scraps left over from cutting out the ornaments, decorate them. Use the glue gun to adhere the stripes and squiggles to the ornaments.
Step 4: Cut out a Christmas Tree shape (or two) from the large sheet of felt.
Step 5: Let the kiddos play!

Lesson Learned:

For LESS than $9 and in LESS than 2 hours, I made two of these great play-with-able decorations. (I gave the other set to my sister's kids in exchange for some crafting she's doing for me at her sewing machine this holiday season....) It's worth the money and time. So stop pinning and start DOING.

thanks, and...the return of Bear Ticklish

2011-11-26T21:42:00.000-05:00

This weekend, we were thankful for...

cousins,

cornhole,

swings,

aunts and uncles,

fall leaves,

and more aunts and uncles.

We were thankful for "All the trucks," (Evan) and "Treats," (Max) when my mini-me Evan required everyone around the Thanksgiving table to say their Thanks. And we were thankful for new opportunities, a healthy pregnancy, and family. Always family. We're lucky to have spent time with my family on Thanksgiving and then an afternoon and evening with Sam's family today on our way back into town.

And it was perfect.

And then....the icing on the cake (whipped cream on the pie?):

As we drove home from Sam's parents' house tonight, we noticed that a lot of people have already put up their Christmas decorations. "I wish we already had our Christmas decorations up," Evan lamented. "We will soon, buddy," I assured him, "We haven't put them up yet because we've been out of town. Now that Thanksgiving is over, though, it'll be fun to get out all of our decorations over the next few days."

"I don't want to wait a few days. I wish we could decorate tomorrow."

"Maybe we can! All of our decorations are up in the attic. Daddy can easily get them down for us."

There was a brief discussion of how Molly, in my "big, fat belly," could help me carry down the bins, and then we were home.

And we saw this:

ALL of our CHRISTMAS DECORATION BINS!!! Somehow, they had MAGICALLY come down from the attic ALL BY THEMSELVES!!!

On closer inspection:

It was BEAR TICKLISH! Our Elf on a Shelf had thoughtfully brought our bins down from the attic when he returned to our house from the North Pole! (He didn't want Mommy and Molly to have to carry them, Evan supposed.)

It was Magical. It was perfect. I couldn't have scripted it better if it had been in a movie. Evan stood, jaw dropped, staring at him. He's been questioning lately, "I know, Mom...but is Santa really real?" And this was all the answer he needed. Christmas is Real. Bear Ticklish is Real. Santa is Real. Magic Really Happens.

Max, although fuzzy on the whole "Bear Ticklish" thing before this weekend, was quickly brought up to speed when we watched "An Elf's Story" on CBS last night. He immediately knew to look in awe and to Not Touch when he saw our Elf tonight.

We spent a few minutes thanking Bear Ticklish for bringing down our decorations from the attic, and a few more thanking him for coming back to visit us. Evan, when he regained his ability to speak coherently, asked him to please deliver his Letter to Santa. Max, wanting equal representation, ran to the counter and grabbed a Thanksgiving Handprint Turkey picture he made last week and asked Bear Ticklish to please deliver IT to Santa.

And then, the boys blew him kisses, wished him a safe journey back to the North Pole tonight, and went up to bed.

Lesson Learned:
This is going to be the Best. Christmas. Ever.

And Bear Ticklish is going to have a lot to do with that. I'll post periodic updates (weekly?) about our Elf's shenanigans with pictures of the hijinks he gets into this year. In the meantime, feel free to share your own suggestions for our Elf on a Shelf....we're always looking for new ideas, and we have a lot of nights of Elfing between now and Christmas...

motivation

2011-11-20T20:27:00.000-05:00

Evan, my won't-pick-up-a-pencil kid, did this today:

If you can't read it, it says, "DER SNTU, I LIC THE POLS CRN RSQ TRUC. LOVE, EVAN" Or, "Dear Santa, I like the police crane rescue truck. Love, Evan."

OMG, right?

This kid can do anything.....with the right motivation.

Today, the motivation was a $6 Tonka truck in the Target toy aisle. He coveted the thing. But we wouldn't buy it for him. Not even after he offered to use his own money. But he talked about that silly little truck the entire rest of our Target trip. EVEN through the highly-distractable Christmas decoration section.

And then, as we were browsing through the books and movies, it dawned on him: "I can ask Santa for the Police Crane Rescue Truck!"

"That's a great idea, buddy!" I agreed, "You could even tell Bear Ticklish about it. He can deliver the message to Santa." (Aside: Bear Ticklish is our "Elf on a Shelf" Elf. Yup. BEAR. TICKLISH. Named by the same child who once had a fish named Training Pants.)

"OR..." Evan thought aloud, "I could WRITE a letter to Santa! Bear Ticklish can deliver it to Santa!"

And so he did.

I gave him word lines to help with word spacing, and I modeled how to write some of the trickier letters, but the phonics? He sounded every one of those words out all on his own.

He even drew a picture.

Lesson Learned:

"So do you think Santa will know which truck I mean?" he asked when he was finished with his letter.

"He sure will," I reassured....because Santa has very strict orders to return to Target on his way home from work tomorrow to buy that Police Crane Rescue Truck.

And Evan's letter to Santa is going to get wrapped up with the truck with a response: "Thank you for your letter, Evan. Bear Ticklish delivered it to me so I would know exactly which truck you wanted. I know you'll have fun playing with it! Love, Santa."

Christmas is so magical.

rainy morning hopscotch

2011-11-17T19:57:00.000-05:00

Because one rainy day + two jumpy boys + one sick and cranky mommy = recipe for disaster...

We got a little creative with our painter's tape today.

Max got an A for effort....

...but it wasn't long before Hopscotch was forsaken for the Beloved Dump Truck.

But he did count the numbers as he drove over them!

And then, just before the sun dipped behind the roofline anyway, the clouds parted. Was that the sound of angels singing? No? Oh.

Lesson Learned:
It was a nice 15-minute break from the loud and accident-waiting-to-happen Chasing With Trucks game the boys had been into all day. Bonus points for a little number recognition practice for Max and Counting Down From 20 practice for Evan. An all-around Win.

preschool diaries: bribery works...and....the admirer

2011-11-14T20:49:00.000-05:00

Just a quick update on the Happy Drop-Off "Incentive" Program we started a few weeks ago: Bribery Works. Now to figure out how to rein it in...maybe just wait until the Halloween candy is gone? For now, we're just basking in the tear-free, pleasant goodbyes....even if I do have to respond to the comment, "But saying goodbye is just So Hard. And I just miss you and Max So Much," 47 times every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning....

And on a completely different Preschool Subject....

So, apparently, there's this girl.

???
I know, RIGHT? Last Friday, Evan got into the car talking about a little girl in his class. I'll call her A. He mentioned her several times in retelling the activities of his day, prompting me to say, "A sounds like a really nice friend. Do you play with A?" He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess." Then he said, "We should have a playdate with A at our house." !!! He's never asked to play with a friend before. All playdates happen because Mommy makes them happen. "That sounds like a great idea, buddy! Maybe I could call her Mommy and set up a time for them to come over." He didn't respond and I didn't belabor the point. The subject changed to other topics and we didn't mention A again all weekend.

Today, I arrived to pick him up a few minutes early. When I popped my head in the classroom, Ms. B was reading a story and the kids were seated on the rug. "A" was sitting thisclose to Evan, who appeared completely oblivious to the physical proximity of this little girl. When she saw me, she started (gently, but firmly) pulling on his arm and pointing to me, indicating that it was time for him to leave. Evan, again oblivious to the physical contact, instead looks at me, silently points to the story, and asks me with only a look "Can we stay and listen to the end?" So Max and I take our seats on the rug.

For the rest of the read-aloud, A sits with the entire left side of her body touching the entire right side of Evan's body. Every so often, she glances back at me and offers a shy, sweet smile that I can only read as, "Um? giggle I like your son," and then....periodically PLACES HER HAND ON HIS ARM and once even HOLDS HIS HAND. And all the while, Evan is so engrossed in the book that he is COMPLETELY oblivious to her advances. Either that or this is such a regular occurrence that he's used to it by now. (?!)

As we're walking out to the car, Evan says, "Well, A wants to play at our house."
"Sure! Did you invite her over?"
"No. She said it."
"Oh, well, would you like A to come over to play?"
"[Sigh] I guess. She said she's going to."

I asked him if they play together at school.
"Sometimes. She plays with ALL the kids, though."
"And sometimes you play with her?"
"Yes. And I'm the puppy and she feeds me carrots."

Then we shared a good laugh about Who Feeds a Puppy CARROTS?!

Lesson Learned:
I'm not going to rush to set up a playdate. I think I'll wait to figure out if this is a friendship he wants to develop or if she's pursuing him one-sidedly. And if she is, that's not a bad thing: Evan is used to being the Decision Maker when it comes to play around here. It wouldn't be terrible for him to experience what Max experiences on a near-daily basis. And besides Max and his cousins, Evan doesn't really play with other kids. He watches what other kids do and sometimes plays alongside his peers, but he rarely engages WITH other kids. So this is a really Huge Step in his social development. And can't you just picture it? "A," a sweet little, blonde-ponytailed girl saying, "Okay, Evan. Now you're my puppy and I'm going to feed you carrots," and Evan rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the game....yet still playing along. Because that's what socially well-adjusted kids do.

Yup. He's going to be Just Fine. I'm keeping my eye on A, though.

magical mousse

2011-11-08T21:15:00.000-05:00

I saw a link to this recipe on Pinterest because everything is on Pinterest. I can't seem to track down the original link, though, so I'm extending my apologies and thanks to the genius who came up with this.

This is homemade, dairy-free, soy-free, potentially even SUGAR-free CHOCOLATE MOUSSE.

So you start with a can of full-fat coconut milk (the reduced fat won't yield as much). Stick it in the fridge overnight. The next day, when you open the can, you'll see that the coconut milk has separated into a thick paste on top and the coconut water on the bottom of the can.

Scoop out the paste (per the hints on the original post: save the water to add to smoothies). Add to it some vanilla, some cocoa powder (a few tablespoons), and, if desired, some sweetener to taste (I used sugar, but would have used agave nectar if we had any on hand).

Whip it up. I just used a whisk and whipped it by hand. It yielded a creamy, pudding-like consistency. I'm not sure if using an electric mixer would have made a fluffier texture.

And you're done!

(The original recipe was for whipped "cream." Instead of cocoa powder, they added a bit of cinnamon and omitted the sugar.)

Lesson Learned:
I really hyped this one to the boys. And for good reason: I LOVED it. Them? Not so much. I don't know if they didn't like the coconutty flavor (which was mild, in my opinion) or if I added too much cocoa for their tastes. (Oddly enough, neither are huge chocolate kids--Evan because dairy-free chocolate just isn't as good and Max, probably because we just don't usually keep it in the house...well, we do, I just eat it all after they go to sleep. I guess it's time I introduce Max to the good stuff.) Whatever the reason, though, they each took one bite of this delicious treat and turned up their noses. Max said, "I don' like chocolate mousse anymore." Evan said, "I was picturing chocolate in the shape of a moose."

More for me!

brothers that play together

2011-11-03T20:23:00.000-04:00

I asked for ten minutes. I wanted a few minutes to get ready for the day, a few minutes to throw in some laundry, and a few minutes of peace this morning. "Just two things: No jumping on beds, and No Rough Hands."

It started the way most Independent Playtime begins in this house, purposeless running up and down the hall with narrow misses, shrieks of delight, and breath-holding by me, waiting for the cry and the "MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!" But then, Max said, "Oh no, Evan! Dragons are coming!" To which Evan responded, "Dragons, Max?!" and Max replied, "Yes! Dragons! THREE dragons!" More running ensued, which I assumed to be the start of the Dragon Hunt, but then Evan said, "Max, you're not going to believe this! They're baby dragons! And they need our help! We're Baby Dragon Rescuers!"

I listened and waited for Max to dissent...he had clearly been imagining something a little more medieval folktale-ish. But instead heard, "Oh! Tiny baby dragons! So sweet babies!" The Dragon Rescue continued until all were accounted for...and then the Martians arrived.

The boys hid. The dragons were in danger. The boys faced the Martians to protect the dragons. The Martians were scared off. The dragons were safe, and were later reunited with their mothers.

And all the while, I stood quietly in my bathroom, afraid that my appearance would disrupt the play. And I listened. I was amazed that the Little One so easily followed the story line of this imaginary world and that the Big One so readily accepted the input of his brother to change the direction of the story (the Martians were Definitely Not his idea). I can't believe that we're already Here: where they can play together without toys and understand/accommodate/follow the direction of pretense set forth by the other.

It was a beautiful thing to witness.

***

One of my favorite courses in college (one of many favorites...NERD ALERT!) was a seminar I took as a graduate student called "The Child's Discovery of the Mind." Throughout it, we read a book by the same name, written by Janet Wilde Astington. We discussed how children (beginning in infancy) learn about the mind, mental states (including desire, fear, and sadness in particular), perception vs. reality, pretense, imagination, and metacognition (thinking about your thinking), among other things. It was a fascinating book then, but so much more so now that I'm watching this Discovery of the Mind happen in my kids.

Lesson Learned:
Isn't it amazing that a two-year old can imagine a world of dragons, Martians, and baby dragon rescuers when he's had no real-world experience with any of the three? They weren't playing house or even fire fighters. It was completely imagined...yet this world "existed" simultaneously in two little minds with relative synchronicity.

And isn't it interesting that my then-three year old could understand and explain, with scientific accuracy, that dinosaurs lived a long time ago and are now extinct, yet demanded that we serve his Imaginary Dinosaur Friends dinner every night? There was a divergence between his reality and his "reality." Evan could explain that No, Annie et al. Really Couldn't Be Real. But still, they were hungry and sad and...real.

And how is it that you can pick up a banana and place a "phone" call without severely stunting the vocabulary acquisition of your baby?

Kids, and their hard-working, ever-growing brains, are unbelievable.

halloween, and, 'peech therapy

2011-10-31T21:05:00.000-04:00

It all started back in September. "I think I want to be a cheetah for Halloween," he said. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" "Because cheetahs are the fastest land animals on the planet. So that's what I want to be." And I thought it was decided. I'd get a yellow hooded sweatshirt and some yellow sweat pants, draw some spots, add a couple of ears and a tail, and Voila!, Halloween Costume: Done. As soon as Max heard that we were turning into Wild Animals, he was all over it: "And I be a baby tiger and get candy!" Easy enough. Swap out the yellow sweats for orange and the spots for stripes and there are two easy DIY costumes.

But then a few weeks later, we were reading a book about Big Cats and we came across the elusive and mysterious jaguar. The next morning at breakfast, Evan put his head in his hands and said, "Oh, I Just. Don't. Know." It was a school morning, so I said, "I do! You'll have a GREAT day at school today, hon!" "No, no, no," he answered, "I just don't know whether I should be a cheetah or a jaguar. Cheetahs are the fastest land animals on the planet, but jaguars are So Cool. And powerful. And sneaky." I shrugged my shoulders and told him that he had plenty of time to figure it out. Nothing to worry about.

And then we read the rainforest book. "Oh, man. I just REALLY don't know what to be. I mean, cheetahs are fast and jaguars are powerful, but ocelots are aMAYzing! They can jump and climb and THEY LIVE IN TREES." At this point, it was the end of September and I was going to need an answer in the next few weeks so I could draw the appropriate spots on the yellow sweats, but I didn't want to rush him...he was in clear mental anguish over the decision. And so, I assured him that all of the choices were good ones and that he'd make the right choice. Meanwhile, Max was just thrilled to talk about his baby tiger costume and all the trick-or-treating he was going to do.

The first of October came and went and I told Evan that I was going to order the sweatsuit. "So, just to be sure, you want to be a cheetah, a jaguar, or an ocelot, right? So I'm going to order a YELLOW sweatsuit, right? And then you can figure out the spots later?" "Right," he said, "Yellow." The place I was going to order them from was out of stock in yellow in his size, and it's a good thing: A week later, Evan came home from school So Excited about a book he found in his classroom. "And the Most Amazing Thing in the book was about an Amazing Animal. And it's what I want to be for Halloween. A Snow Leopard."

Snow Leopard. So....white sweats? Okay. I let his decision sink in for a few days and then triple-/quadruple-checked before pushing the Submit button on the online order form. But as soon as he saw that creature in the book he knew and he didn't once waiver....and he was just about the cutest snow leopard this planet has ever seen:

And, try not to melt, but here's the baby tiger:

And there was an unexpected benefit to Evan's Costume Choice: It provided a valuable teachable moment in his unofficial Speech Therapy. Last year, Evan's preschool teacher recommended that he be evaluated by a Speech Therapist. He was. She noticed what we all do, that he drops or replaces a lot of initial consonants in words with initial /s/ blends (i.e. smoothie becomes "poothie," small becomes "pall," stop becomes "top," snake becomes "take," and snow becomes "coe") but thought it was largely developmental and did not recommend therapy at this time. We did, however, take the information and realized that it was time that we stopped thinking how adorable it was when Evan requested a Poothie, or referred to Captain Hook's right-hand man as Mr. Pee, and start trying to correct some of his speech errors.

We started by just repeating his mistakes and emphasizing the correct pronunciation. So, for instance, when he would say, "Max! Top!" I would say, "Max, Evan is asking you to please SSSStop." Or when he would say, "Mom, can we make poothies?" I'd say, "Sure, we can make SSSSSmmmmmoothies!" And he'd look at me like I was a little loony and didn't seem to catch my drift. So, we became a little more direct: "Actually, Ev, his name is Mr. SMee, not Mr. Pee." And then he'd say, "I can say it however I want."

Oooookay.

And then, the costume. One day a few weeks ago, we were playing outside with the neighbors. Three of us moms were standing together and Evan came over. "Evan!" one of the moms greeted, "What are you going to be for Halloween?" "A coe leopard!" Evan answered enthusiastically, but was met by a brief moment of silence before I stepped in, "A SNow leopard! Yup, he's going to be a snow leopard!" To which the moms oohed and ahhed over his wise decision. I don't know if it was embarrassment that his mom had to step in and speak for him, or maturity....he realized now what I had meant when I had previously tried to explain that if you don't say things correctly, people might not know what you mean. But whatever it was, something clicked that afternoon. "SSSSSS-NNNNNNN-OOOOOO leopard!" he repeated over and over until it became automatic. Since then, when he mispronounces a word, we repeat it with emphasis and he slowly sounds it out until he can say it loudly and proudly. Such a big boy.

***

So the boys donned their Wild Animal suits tonight, grabbed their Trick-or-Treat buckets and some umbrellas, and headed out in the cold and the rain to score some loot.

Evan thoughtfully gave some of his Skittles to Grandpop to enjoy "after dinner tomorrow," and Max shed some tears when I finally said, "No more candy tonight, baby." But, overall, it was a Happy Halloween for two of the cutest, SSSSSNNNNNuggliest, Wild Animals ever.

Lesson Learned:
And the best part for Mom: we sorted out the unsafe candy to trade with The Great Pumpkin for toys...which means that ALL of those Reece's Peanut Butter Cups and Kit-Kat bars? They're all mine, baby.

preschool diaries: let the bribery begin!

2011-10-26T15:02:00.000-04:00

Preschool is going well. Evan is happy when I meet him in his classroom after school. He is bringing home stories to tell and artwork to hang on the fridge, and he is participating in classroom activities (well, most of them: they go to a Music and Movement class each week that Evan Does Not Like. He doesn't like the singing, the interpretive dancing with scarves, or the Participation Stamps the kids get on their hands at the end of class. He thought the solution to avoiding having dirty ink on his hands was to sit on the sidelines during class and refuse to play along. The teacher greeted him with a cheerful, "Oh, that's okay! EVERYone gets a stamp!" which was NOT okay with Evan.).

But preschool is going well....for the most part. School mornings are still pretty sad and drop-off had gotten completely out of control: I was walking Evan into his classroom, helping him unpack his things, helping him to "get settled" in one of the Open Centers, and then *trying* to say goodbye. But then his eyes would fill up with tears, his bottom lip would start to quiver, and I found myself unable to leave. So I'd try to help him find a different center, I'd back away towards the door, and he'd follow me. I'd give him one more hug, an "I'll miss you, too, but you'll have FUN!", and I'd try to sneak out while the teachers attempted to distract him with a Special Job. It was tough.

But then, on Monday, we hit rock bottom. It was the classic scene: a sobbing child (and teary mommy) (and squirmy "I walk now all by MYself, MOMMY!" 2-year old) who needed to be PEELED off me by the teacher. It was awful. After I wrangled the Wild Thing across the parking lot and composed myself in the car, I called Sam to figure out what to do. We couldn't figure it out. "I'm sure he's fine now, though," Sam said, "it's just the saying goodbye that is so hard for him." And he was right. I called the school ten minutes later and asked the assistant director to go and check on him. He was fine...participating happily in an ART PROJECT of all things. And at pick-up time? Happy as a clam.

And so the brainstorming began. How to ease the transition between Mommy and School, if school itself isn't the problem?

Both the teacher and my sister suggested Happy Drop-Off "Incentives," aka: Give the kid candy after school if there are no tears at The Goodbye. The promise of something special would help soften the transition, and it could easily be scaled back once the problem diminished.

Since yesterday, we have talked a lot about our new morning routine. I would walk Evan into the classroom, help him to unpack his things, and give him a kiss goodbye. Then, HE would find a center to play at, or he could choose to "just walk around," or ask his teacher for help finding an activity. If there were no tears, a piece of Halloween candy would be waiting in his carseat after school. This morning, every time he said that he felt sad about going to school, I corrected him. "You don't feel sad about going to school. You like school. You have fun at school! You tell me everyday that you wish you could stay at school longer. What you feel sad about is Saying Goodbye. And you're allowed to feel sad about that. Saying goodbye is hard. I'm going to make that hard part easier by letting you have a piece of candy after school if we can say goodbye without tears."

It felt wrong to say that, but I'm learning that sometimes, a Quick Fix in parenting is the right fix. You don't always have to psychoanalyze every anxiety or worry or tantrum. You don't always need to get to the bottom of an issue and fix it from the inside out. Sometimes you just need to break a bad habit cycle, which is what we were in. And sometimes, to break a cycle, you need to introduce a distraction, which is what the candy was...a Distraction.

And it worked!

It helped that we were able to sit in traffic on the way to school and watch the road-paving crew and their cool trucks get to work. And it helped that, due to the traffic caused by the road-paving crew, we were late to school...which meant that, instead of entering the noisy, not-yet-settled classroom with the rest of the class, we walked in to the quiet hum of ten kids playing happily at their centers. And, it helped that both of his teachers met Evan at the door with great big smiles and a welcoming "Look what we're doing today, Buddy!" And there wasn't a single tear.

(Until I told Max that he wasn't allowed to run across the parking lot without holding my hand.)

Lesson Learned:
The parenting experts may not agree that resorting to bribery was the Right thing to do, but it worked today and will hopefully work for the next few school days. And then, when we're in a Happy Drop-Off cycle, we can scale back the treats and just focus on the Happy.

When I picked up my smiling, happy, Just Rescued A Daddy-Long-Legs From The Dangerous Playground, kiddo, I praised him mightily for having such a great day. And when I gave him his Life Saver Gummy Mummies, he looked up at me and said, "It was scary at first, but then, I think I learned my lesson." We both did, buddy, and we will keep doing so as the lessons continue to change.

he draws

2011-10-21T20:34:00.000-04:00

Evan is a Tool Man. He is a builder. He is a truck driver. He is an animal rescuer. He is a natural scientist and an "Experiment Maker." He is an imaginer. He is a story teller.

But Evan is not an artist.

It took me awhile (four and a half years?) to get used to this difference between us. I am a doodler by nature and I best express myself on paper (or computer). It was hard for me to understand why a child wouldn't naturally want to color or doodle or just simply put marker to paper. But Evan just didn't.

I wasn't concerned about his apparent lack of the Artist Gene....he certainly expresses himself very creatively in other ways...but I was growing concerned about his fine motor development. Sure, he has a lot of practice on a daily basis manipulating small objects, etc., but there are important pre-writing skills that just need to be developed with writing instrument in hand. Would he be able to keep up with the rigors of kindergarten without having those skills developed? (And I can't believe that I, again, had to write the words "rigor" and "kindergarten" in the same sentence.)

But, in true Evan fashion, his time came.

Several weeks ago, Evan greeted us in his preschool classroom with a surprise. "Close your eyes, Max! I drew you a picture!" I gasped. Audibly. It was the first time, the FIRST TIME, he has ever drawn a picture without me ~~forcing~~ encouraging him to. Max clapped in anticipation of the gift to come.

It's a picture of Max.

Notice the attention to detail: the ears, the hair, the shoes on the feet. "And are those Max's eyebrows?" I asked, pointing. "Nope," he said, "Those are his windshield wipers." He pointed his fingers down over his eyes and swished them back and forth, "EE oo, EE oo, EE oo."

We were so stunned, so impressed by this gift that we laid it on pretty thick. We hung the picture on the fridge and admired it often. And so...the drawings have continued to come home from school (he still has zero interest in our own fully-stocked art cabinet, but, whatever).

This one is an excavator. You can tell by the caterpillar treads:

And this is a Shark Submarine. It's a research vessel that uses shark powers to travel to the deepest part of the oceans to study whales (shown in pink).

And then there have been teacher-directed art projects. This one is my favorite, and is STILL hanging on the fridge.

He was in charge of the cutting, gluing, and !!! FINGER PAINTING.

Lesson Learned:
Progress! I am LOVING watching this kid take his time and find his stride. Because he Always. Does.

REPOST: a new vocabulary

2011-10-19T13:42:00.000-04:00

BlogHer is teaming up with Anderson Cooper, CNN, Facebook, and others to help spread the word against bullying. The online movement is called Stop Bullying: Speak Up and encourages people to take action and Step In and Speak Up when they are witness to bullying.

I originally posted this in May, but I think it deserves to be posted again in line with this campaign...and because as much light as is being shed on the subject by this and the "It Gets Better" messages directed at LGBTQ youth, for some kids, it's NOT getting better...and more lives are being lost.

Also, if you want to take the pledge to join the movement, you can find Stop Bullying: Speak Up on Facebook or just click on the widget on the right side of this page to take the pledge now.

***

I was in sixth grade. One of the girls in my class approached a group of about six of us on our way to the cafeteria and told us about a game we were going to play at lunch. She was going to tell a bunch of nonsense jokes and we were all supposed to laugh hysterically. The game was to see if The Target, another girl in our class, would laugh, too. The theory was that this girl was such a follower of our Super Coolness that she would laugh, too, even though she couldn't possibly Get the jokes. And the game would prove, unnecessarily, that we were cool and funny and The Target was a Loser. Unnecessarily, I say, because our 11-year old minds had already been made up about this girl.

If someone had questioned my involvement in the "game" that day in sixth grade, I would have brushed it off and said that we were just playing a joke. Just teasing. Was it bullying? Nope. Bullies are tough, mean boys who rough you up on the playground and trade your milk money for a black eye. But I would have been wrong. I regretted my involvement almost immediately, and we never played a game like that again. I didn't think the girl held a grudge against us for our behavior--she did, after all, invite us to her birthday party later that year. But if that day is seared so indelibly in my mind and still, 21 years later, I feel remorse about it, just imagine the effect it had on her. And even though we lost touch after sixth grade, I've thought about that girl often. I used to hope that she found better friends than us when she got to middle school. It wouldn't have been hard.

When I was in sixth grade, the stereotypical image of a "bully" didn't match me or my friends. We didn't think that what we were doing was so wrong. We were just joking. Just teasing. And that's where we come to a problem with our vocabulary. It's always the Joker, the Teaser who says that it's all in good fun. Ask The Target, The Victim, and she'll have a different word for it, for sure. The word is Bullying, and it's time we stop making excuses for our behavior and the actions of our children and start calling a spade a spade.

When kids start name-calling, it's not Kids Being Kids or "Playground Politics," it's bullying.

When you pass along an offensive joke on Facebook (whether it's directed at an individual or a group of people), it's not funny...it's cyber-bullying.

When someone makes a hurtful observation about another person in a public and humiliating way, it's not "telling it like it is," it's bullying.

It's time we start teaching our kids, early and often, that Teasing is Not Okay. I know that some people are going to tell me to lighten up....but I won't. Teasing hurts and you can never know how deeply it can hurt and how long that hurt is going to last. So just don't do it.

Maybe this will create a generation of "soft" kids....kids who can't take a joke. Maybe. But maybe it'll be the first generation that doesn't produce a Ted Kaczynski...or a Timothy McVeigh...or an Eric Harris or Dylan Klebold....or a Seung-Hui Cho...or...a bin Laden?

(Imagine if it were that easy to cure the world....)

So teach your kids to be nice. And funny. I'm all for funny. Being nice and being funny are not mutually exclusive. The funniest jokes are the ones that make everyone laugh--for real.

Lesson Learned:

Imagine all the people, living life in peace.

tell me lies...

2011-10-18T14:05:00.001-04:00

It starts innocently enough...

"Look at what Santa brought you!" you say to your less than one-year old child on his first Christmas, as he's tearing open the gift YOU bought and wrapped and placed perfectly beneath the tree.

But before you know it, you're not just providing yourself an alias, you're creating entirely fabricated worlds within our own. "Yup," you say in response to your questioning four-year old, "Santa sure MUST have a lot of factories in the North Pole to make all of those toys. And yes, the elves are the factory workers. They sure do have a big job to do!" I find myself doing a pretty good job of convincing him (and myself?) about this fanciful world and the magic of the holiday.

But it's okay because we all do it, right? Lie, I mean...to our kids.

I was noticing the other day how many lies I tell the boys...probably because the holidays are around the corner. In our house, there's the Santa Lie, the Elf on the Shelf Lie, and another holiday-related lie in the mix: because Halloween Candy is unsafe for Evan's milk and peanut allergies, we leave our candy out after trick-or-treating. While we're asleep, "The Great Pumpkin" comes and trades our unsafe candy for a super-cool new toy. The candy finds a nice new home at the top of the pantry for Sam and I to enjoy after bedtime.

So we tell the boys stories to create a magical childhood. That's not so bad. And, now that there's a baby mysteriously growing in my belly, we tell them stories to keep that childhood age-appropriate: "How did the baby get in there?...Um...well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other Very Much, they might decide that they want to start a family. When they're ready to start their family, THAT'S when the baby starts to grow!"

And that, somehow, this baby has to find her way out: "Well, the mommy waits until the baby is all finished growing and ready to be born. When the baby's ready, the mommy goes to the hospital and THAT'S when the doctor helps the baby to be born!"

They're not outright lies, and I'm comfortable sharing information on a need-to-know basis, but pretty soon, Evan's going to realize that intentionally placing unnecessary emphasis on certain words does NOT constitute an acceptable explanation.

And then there are the lies of omission...telling only part of the story to avoid hurt feelings or an epic meltdown: "When you're at school? Oh, you know, we just do boring stuff like go to the grocery store" [but on the way home, we'll go to the playground. Or we play at our friends' houses. And sometimes, we even go out to lunch at a RESTAURANT!!]. When I bring Max up for his nap, Evan goes into his room to read while I read to Max. As soon as Max is asleep, Evan comes back downstairs to play or watch a movie or just enjoy some one-on-one time with Mom. Max is thoroughly convinced that Evan sleeps, too. I never told him that....I just don't correct his assumption when he wakes up and asks, "Evan awake now, too?"

We try to avoid lies that are totally unnecessary...like telling kids that all the stores are sold-out of a certain treat or toy...or that the TV is broken when we've reached our screen-time limit for the day. We're pretty good about offering quick, succinct explanations for our rules or decisions....but sometimes I find myself feigning ignorance ("Oh, that [stupid] plastic disc that came in the cereal box? I don't know...it's probably around here somewhere [like, maybe in the trash can where I put if after you went to bed last night because it's a stupid toy with no play value and I'm tired of you throwing it at your brother].") or just stretching the truth a bit to keep everyone happy ("You stay at school until 3 because all four-year olds [at your school] stay until 3. That's how four-year olds [at your school] get ready for kindergarten.").

As adults, it's just an acceptable part of socializing with other adults. We lie to protect the feelings of others, to help us come up with an excuse for missing something or not being able to help someone out, and because sometimes it's easier to just agree...even if, by agreeing, you're lying about your true feelings.

But kids aren't in on this weird component of adult social interaction, so every time I hear myself do it, I'm afraid it will be the time that Evan (or Max) calls me out on it....and then what? Admit to lying? Lie to cover up my untruth? Where does it end?....because it really should.

Lesson Learned:
So I've become more conscious of my socially "appropriate" lying, like saying I already have plans to get out of attending something I don't feel like attending, and that can be stopped immediately (a "Thanks for the invitation but I will not be attending" is good enough, and honest). The kids don't need to overhear even those innocuous untruths.

But Santa? The Great Pumpkin? That magical readiness that allows babies to grow in a belly and, eventually, come out? I'm okay with those stories hanging out for a bit. And when the boys, someday...probably on the school bus, learn the truth about Santa and sex and childbirth...I'll try not to feign ignorance, but I may tell them to go ask their father.

it's a girl. YIKES!

2011-10-15T13:12:00.000-04:00

I had a few errands to run, none of which would have been fun with a Wild Thing in tow. So while Sam took the monkeys to the zoo, I headed out for a morning of shopping. (By the way, I can't write or say the word "shopping" without hearing Chris Rock say, "Women be shoppin'!" It's a problem.)

One of the stops required a trip to the mall to buy skinny maternity jeans (NOT an oxymoron) because I just can't have my favorite boots sit in my closet until next year. While at the mall, I, of course, popped into Gymboree to peek at their newborn girl clothes...because, well, I just couldn't help myself.

It was there that I realized that I just may be in over my head here.

As I was browsing, a mom pushing a less-than-one-year old baby girl in a stroller walked in. She very politely inquired of the sales clerk, "I'm looking for a hat for her that's sort of in-between fall and winter."

?!

Moms of Boys: Did you know that there is such a thing as BETWEEN SEASON ACCESSORIES? Me neither. I waited for the clerk to look at the mom like she was the crazy person that I thought she was, but instead, she directed her over to a FULL RACK of fall/winter knit hats. The mom looked and said, mildly disappointedly, "Oh, I need something a little more neutral, her coat is red."

Moms of Boys: Did you know that the hat is supposed to MATCH THE COAT? Who cares?! The baby is not even ONE! Do people notice if the outerwear doesn't match the accessories?!

The clerk expressed her understanding of the mom's dilemma and directed her elsewhere: "Crazy 8, our sister store down the hall has an adorable black, white, and red knit hat. It is Too. Cute!" The mom responded, "Yeah....I was just there. It IS cute....but it doesn't match her other coat."

!!!

Moms of Boys: Did you know that you're supposed to have MORE THAN ONE COAT?! My boys each have a coat and a sweatshirt jacket. They have one hat and one pair of mittens. The hats don't necessarily match the coat/jacket and the coat/jacket is worn depending on the weather, not according to the outfit the child is wearing.

The mother picked up one of the "non-neutral" knit hats from the rack and said, "You know, I think I'll get them both."

Moms of Boys: Did you know that there are, apparently, different rules for girls?!

I started to panic so left the store empty-handed.

I did, however, walk into Crazy 8, which I've loved forever because it really does have the cutest boys' clothes, and I was anxious to see what the other half of the store held. As I was checking out with my adorable itty-bitty pink koala sleeper and Too Cute tiny pink hedgehog onesie/skirt/leggings set, the cashier smiled and asked, "Would you be interested in coordinating hairbows or accessories today?"

HELP!!

Lesson Learned:
Unless I get busy learning the Rules For Girls, this poor baby is going to be the only little non-coordinating non-accessoried girl on the block. But at least she'll have two big brothers who will keep the perfectly matched, perfectly braided little girls from making any personal remarks.

Happy Birthday, Maxwell!

2011-10-11T07:30:00.003-04:00

Last year, I wrote this:

Maxwell Keenan Harris was born at 9:15 pm...blood in his lungs, partial placental abruption and all. It was fast, furious, chaotic, and frantic....and I was thisclose to emergency surgery. I thought, with an entrance into the world like THAT, we were in for a doozy of a time with this kid.

I went on to say that I couldn't have been more wrong...that Max was calm and even, strong-willed yet flexible. And that's still true. BUT: His labor WAS INDEED indicative of his future personality.

This kid is your classic Bull in a China Shop. He roared into this world and, over the past year, has continued to pick up that pace. He's moving at 100 mph and taking risks that he doesn't even consider to be second-thought-worthy constantly. He underestimates his size, squeezing his massive body into tiny spaces and then yelling, "Help! I stuck!" when he can't maneuver his way out. When he walks across a room, he walks in a perfectly straight line, completely disregarding any obstacle that may be in his way....much to the irritation of his Big Brother, who probably just set up an elaborate train set or construction site that has now been King-Kong-Babied.

Max wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's happy, he's throw-his-head-back-laughing happy.

When he's sad, his big, round tears stream down his face and leave perfect tear-stain streaks that last long after he's started smiling again.

And when he's offended, he has absolutely perfected his bottom-lip-jutted-out pout, complete with his hands on his cheeks or folded in his lap, and heavy sighing.

Even with a new baby coming, this kid will never be the Middle/Forgotten Child. He makes his presence known...and we're such a better family for it.

Now that Max has developed his gift of speech, he's standing up for himself in verbal spars with his Big Brother...and, equally often, starting them. The other day in the car, Max said, "Goose!" So I responded, "Max! You're a goose spotter!" And Evan chimed in, "Oh! I see one, too!" To which Max insisted, "NO, E'an! I a goose spotter!" So Evan tried to explain, "I know, Max, but I saw one, too." And then the arguing began. I couldn't believe my "baby" wasn't even TWO YEARS OLD and I was having to break out the "If you two can't stop arguing..." empty threat. I didn't end the sentence because it was actually pretty amusing to listen to....

Max can be feisty when he wants to assert himself or when he's trying to get his way....but at his core, he's a Lover.

He's a snuggly, cuddly, "I hol' your ear a minute, Mommy?" Little Lovey. Just don't call him that. Or, "honey," "sweetheart," "baby," or even, "buddy." If you do, he'll give you a stern, I'm Serious look and say, "No I not. I a Big Boy." And he is. He has the classic two-year-old I'll Do It Myself mentality.

...and he's pretty capable in just about every endeavor his attempts: running to keep up with Evan? Check. Going up and down the stairs unassisted? Yup. Jumping and dancing and climbing to the top of just about anything? He can do it all, and then announce proudly, with his fists pumped into the air, "I DID IT!" Until the recent day when Evan tried to teach him how to do jumping jacks. He tried for a minute, realized it took just a little more coordination than his just-learning body could muster, and he collapsed in my arms. "I can't do it!" he sobbed.

But he wasn't upset for long. Max has a natural sense of confidence. He plays well by himself, assuming that he'll figure out the rules of the game eventually.

He loves puzzles. He wants to complete them by himself, but prefers to have an audience while doing so....he loves the Completed Puzzle High Fives that follow. He is content to try to solve problems on his own before first asking for help, and he doesn't care if he does things a bit differently than his brother. This kid has his own style.

And he isn't shy to show it off.

He's an artist. A musician.

Max is an Experience-Life-With-His-Whole-Body kind of kid. When he eats, he gets messy. When he plays, he gets sweaty. He dances when he hears a melody and claps when he's proud, or excited, or happy, or when dinner's ready. He gets the most out of every moment and I love watching him do it. Max is our reminder to celebrate everything because, when you're two, life is pretty great. And so is he.

Lesson Learned:

On this, your second birthday, My Sweet [Big Boy] Love, know how much I adore you. Know how much fun I am having watching your charming, inquisitive, FUNNY, compassionate, and full of life personality develop. Know that, even when I may be frustrated by your Wild Thing tendencies, I love your independence and admire your I'm-Just-Being-Me attitude. You make me smile so big my cheeks hurt and want to bottle up the cuddles you still give out freely. I can't wait to see what you do and who you become, baby [Big Boy]. And I have a feeling you'll keep us on our toes the entire ride...

a Mickey Mouse birthday party!

2011-10-09T21:20:00.000-04:00

Max and I were sitting on the beach in August making sand "birthday cakes," complete with seaweed "sprinkles" and sea oat "candles," singing Happy Birthday and making wishes over and over and over, when I said to him, "You know, YOU have a REAL birthday coming up pretty soon. What kind of cake do you want for your party?" Without even pausing to consider his options, Max announced, "MICKEY MOUSE CUPCAKES!!" and promptly began jumping up and down and clapping.

And so, today, two days before my Big Boy turns two, we had a Mickey Mouse Birthday Party!

Just about the WHOLE family was able to come (we missed you Matt, Megan, Emily, Meredith, Lyder, Kelly, and Steven!---Yes, even with seven absent, it was a full house. These boys are so lucky to have such a big family to help them celebrate their Big Days...). Max helped design the lunch menu (Mickey-shaped chicken nuggets, strawberries, grapes, and chips with guacamole).

And then, it was time for presents! (Evan did a great job "letting" Max open "his" birthday presents...although there were lots of squeals of delight coming from Evan when Max opened "his" remote control car, tow truck, and Mickey Mouse vehicles. And some pouting when Max was allowed to play with the toy first. And maybe even a slip once or twice in which Evan said, "I love my new tow truck!".....but, for the most part, he did great.)

And Max loved every bit of it. He's somehow already mastered the art of spending just enough time with each gift to demonstrate genuine gratitude while not taking so long that the guests become bored. He'll be a pro by his wedding shower.

And, of COURSE, there were Mickey cupcakes. I scoured Pinterest for ideas for these babies, but in the end went with my own design (way easier...just big and little Oreos, twisted apart and plopped onto frosting. I figured, "He's two. These look like Mickey. He'll be happy.")

But then the singing started, and the Happy Party Guy suddenly wasn't...was he embarrassed? We've been role-playing "Birthday Party" for months now with his Melissa and Doug Birthday cake set...but there were no smiles or clapping during the entire song....

As it turned out, he didn't actually want to EAT the Mickey cupcake he's been talking about since August. He wanted the one with the chocolate frosting and sprinkles.

Oh, well. He didn't blow out his own candles, but at least he ate a cupcake at his own birthday party!

(And the ENTIRE time he ate that chocolate-frosted cupcake, he said, "I LOVE blowing out MY candles at MY Mickey Birthday party!" Um? Okay......)

And, the Mickey cupcakes were enjoyed by the others.

It was a great day.

Lesson Learned:
Max has been acting 2 for awhile now. But now that the big day is just about here, I CAN'T BELIEVE my baby is two years old. SLOW DOWN, TIME!!!

it's a girl!

2011-10-06T21:11:00.000-04:00

And I knew she was....ever since I first started *feeling* pregnant, I knew this baby was a girl. And I wasn't alone. The very first thing Evan said when we told him that there would be a new baby in the family was, "You mean a baby sister." Our entire family (except for Sam), the cashier at Kroger, the random lady at the park, and the girl at the airport all agreed: "That must be a girl, you're carrying so high!"

I don't feel like I'm carrying higher....I just *felt* like this baby was a girl. She is my daughter and I was already starting to get to know her. But I didn't want to admit it. When you're pregnant with your third and have two boys already, the common assumption (apparently) is that the only reason you're having another baby is to "try" for a girl. We weren't. I was afraid that if I told the people beyond my closest circle how strongly I knew that this baby was a girl, they'd interpret my feelings as desire. And I didn't want a girl over a boy, I just wanted the Right Baby for our family. And so I kept quiet. But I knew.

During the ultrasound today, I grew increasingly anxious as the ultrasound technician was taking the necessary measurements and identifying the vital parts, features, and organs. Once I had been assured that the baby was measuring and developing completely normally, I asked myself: What if it's a boy?...I knew that I would feel disappointed, and I was trying to reassure myself that it would be okay if I did feel that way. I wouldn't have been disappointed that our Right Baby was a boy, I would have just felt disconnected from my baby...as though I had been bonding with some other little girl baby, a baby other than then one growing in my belly.

And so, when the tech found the perfect angle and announced with complete assuredness that our baby is indeed Our Girl, I cried. I cried because everything was right. I had been bonding with our baby (as had the Kroger cashier), and now all I need is to meet her and to start to get to know this tiny person who is already so connected to this family.

This tiny person who, by the way, has a name. For almost as long as I've been feeling that this baby was a girl, we've known that the baby girl's name would be Molly. As soon as Sam tossed it into the Possible Name Pool, it was The One. We didn't discuss name selection with the boys at all....not really on purpose...we just usually talked about it after bedtime. One night at dinner though, I said to Sam, "Oh, and by the way, I heard Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da on the radio today. The name Molly is in a Beatles' song!!! So it's definitely The Name." (Not that that's a requirement, although Maxwell is also a Beatles' character....albeit a less than namesake-worthy one. And besides, John Lennon hated McCartney's Ob-La-Di, and I'm a Lennon girl.)

ANYWAY...
So the name was out in the open, not really by accident, but not really on purpose. And Evan heard. And he burst into tears. "I do NOT like that name!" he wailed. And he continued to wail for the remainder of the evening. We chalked it up to his disappointment over the fact that we had, apparently, nixed his name suggestions of Jo-Jo (also in a Beatles' song, oddly enough....) and the name of our next door neighbor (and not her first name, but Mrs. M_____). We were 100% set on this name and we weren't prepared to forsake it.

So we didn't talk about the name again. Until today.

After the appointment, I returned home to tell the boys the great news about their baby sister. Max was thrilled (he's good at catching on to excitement in the room and making it his own). Evan looked puzzled as to why I was making an announcement (after all, he's been telling us that this baby's a girl for about 14 weeks). And then I said her name. Molly.

And Max started dancing around the room singing, "Molly! Molly! Molly!" and Evan turned his back and very calmly said, "I just don't love that name." I told him that he didn't need to love her name today....he just had to love his sister, which I knew he already did. And we dropped it.

When Daddy got home, we celebrated our Baby Girl all over again and Max resumed his song and dance. "Well, Max loves her name," I said, somewhat snarkily, and within earshot of Evan. He stopped in his tracks, looked at me, and said, "You know what? I think I do, too."

And so it is.

Molly.

The Right Baby.

Our baby girl.

Lesson Learned:
You can't pick your baby, and you can't predict your four-and-a-half year old's reactions to things. You just rest assured that you always get the right baby...and your preschooler will come around eventually. And then, when you do and when he does, you breathe a sigh of relief and bask in the knowing that everything is as it should be. Everything is Right.

I can't wait to meet this Baby Girl.

we did it!

2011-10-05T14:14:00.000-04:00

We ALL survived our very first ride on an airplane, with our sanity intact and without being placed on the No Fly List. One of us was even named a Junior Officer with the TSA Security Team. I'll give you hints: it was the same person who insisted on reading the Safety Regulations before take-off on each of the four legs of our journey.

The same person who was the only person on the plane listening intently to the Flight Attendant's How To Buckle Your Seatbelt mini-lesson. The same person who, despite having a nervous tummy prior to boarding for the first time, announced after landing, "When I grow up, I'm going to fly an airplane." That Evan is going to be one busy grown-up.

The boys did so great. Max took several well-timed naps, much to the delight of our seatmates, and was adorable and charming when awake, much to the delight of the Flight Attendants.

Evan was a very interested passenger during take-offs and landings

(while Mommy feigned happiness and relaxation while gripping the armrests with white knuckles), and was content to play iPad games and watch videos during the flights.

It really was a very smooth and easy trip.

And when we got there: We were in FLORIDA!

For one last gasp of summer before trading in our sandals and beach towels for sweatshirt jackets and giant pots of chrysanthemums (which now, I'm so ready for, by the way). It was such a great weekend. Besides getting to spend time with my grandmother, aka: Mom Mom, Great Mom Mom, and/or Peg the Great,

we managed to squeeze in beach time,

a visit to a local nature preserve/sea turtle research center,

an afternoon at the "Funnest Playground In The Whole Wide World" (complete with splash park, Science Museum, carousel, and of course, popsicles),

and evenings spent at Great Mom Mom's "Basement," which was the lobby of her condo and provided entertainment in the form of a treadmill, a piano, and a pool table.

It was a whirlwind of a trip, but a very worthwhile one....and one that I'm sure we'll be recreating as much as possible. After all, we woke up each morning to this:

Lesson Learned:

Thanks to wonderful suggestions from friends, here were Our Airplane Travel must-haves:

lollipops or gummy candies (for take-off and landing, helps the ears pop), stickers, Color Wonder markers/drawing paper, lots of snacks, iPad videos and games. Favorite apps in our house are: Cut the Rope, Angry Birds, Starfall, Make a Word, Miss Spider, Aqueduct, Rush Hour, and Baby Writer HD. I won't list grown-up apps, because you won't have a chance to use them. We brought a lightweight stroller with us and checked it plane-side. It was great to have during layovers (to expedite travel between gates and as a napping spot) and was easy to stow and retrieve after the flight. We'll definitely bring it when we travel again.

And, everyone was right: there were nerves before the flight, but once we got on the plane (to the airport, really), Evan did great. He was excited and enjoying it, even. More so than I was, to be sure. I did alright....focusing on keeping the kids happy and occupied really did help distract me from my fears....most of the time.

best friends

2011-09-26T20:37:00.002-04:00

If you only have one child and are contemplating having a second, there may be a part of you that is worried that the Second Baby will do nothing but ruin the life of your First Baby. Even if you KNOW that you want more than one child, you may still be concerned about how your heart will fit the love for more than one...after all, it's already bursting at the seams.

And you're sad to think of your time, that is now dedicated to the care, entertainment, and need-fulfillment of your Baby, that will have to be divided between two. How will you manage to be everything to both of them all at the same time?

And then, there's the sibling rivalry. You're envisioning a lifetime of resentment; of bitterness and competition, pitting your two children against one another as they both vie for the attention and affection of you, their only Mother.

But just you wait.

There will be less-than-Rockwell moments, to be sure, but the good will outweigh the bad by a factor of a million. Your heart will grow to hold them both, with room to spare. But more than that, you will bear witness to evidence of their love for each other, and those moments will replace any fears you had prior to or during your pregnancy. You will realize, a million times over before that Second Baby even turns two years old, that you didn't ruin anything for the First. You gave him the Very Best Gift you could ever give him. And you'll be filled with happy anticipation of how the addition of the Third will only Triple the Love Fest.

And all will be right in the world.

Today was a Rockwell kind of a day. (Well, after the banshee screaming that accompanied a tug-of-war over the Big Dump Truck, which ended with the Big Dump Truck in Toy Time Out and both boys claiming innocence and outrage over the injustices of the world....but we'll just focus on the Love Fest that followed...)

Max woke up from nap with time to spare for a quick snuggle and a snack before it was time to pick Evan up from school. When it was time to go, I asked Max to find his shoes.

"Go get Evan?" he asked.
"Yup, it's time to pick up Evan."
"At school?"
"Yes. School is over, so it's time to bring him home."
"Oh.....YAY!....I miss Evan!"

And my heart filled to the brim.

We arrived at school to find a very happy big brother, who came running over to us with a huge smile on his face and arms outstretched. I started to bend down to catch his hug, when I realized that he wasn't aiming for me...

"MAX!!" he called, as he enveloped his brother in a rare not-too-tight hug.
"I miss you Evan!" Max responded.

As they continued to hug, Ms. S smiled over their heads and said to me, "We talked about friends today and Evan had a LOT to say about his 'best friend,' Max."

And my heart started to overflow just a bit.

"Close your eyes, Max," said Evan, "I have something to show you."
Max closed his eyes and Evan led him over to the cubby area. He opened all three zippered pockets of his backpack, digging around for the surprise. Max waited patiently with his eyes closed, every few seconds saying, "Okay, Evan. My eyes closed."

And then Evan found them...

"They're Friendship Bracelets, Max!" he said, as he put one around Max's wrist. "I made one for me and one for you. We're best friends."
"Wow!" said Max, "Fank you, Evan!"

And my heart split wide open.

Lesson Learned:
Have that second baby. And then a third.

AIRPLANE!

2011-09-16T20:55:00.000-04:00

As much as I love the movie, (excepting Ghostbusters, of course, is there a better comedy from the 80s?) I am not a fan of actually being on an Airplane. I'm just not a very good flier. I'm the bad kind of flier that can't even dull the pain by having a few pre-flight drinks....too nervous.

On our honeymoon, we had to fly, through the rain, to what I was afraid would be our final destination in a tiny 6-seater tin can with wings. If I wasn't still riding my wedding-high, I wouldn't have gotten on the plane. I watch the scenes on The Bachelor, where the "happy" couple are crammed together in an itty bitty helicopter or seaplane, needing headphones to talk to each other, with sweaty palms wondering how on Earth so many people can "honestly" utter the phrase, "This is something I've ALWAYS wanted to do!" Liars.

And so, I've flown very few times in my life, and only when necessary. In fact, I haven't flown at all in the last 6+ years. And I was Totally Fine With That.

But then....
Then we decided to visit my Mom Mom in Florida. Evan had been begging to go back to her Beach House for months and I was looking forward to a visit with my mom's mom. We've made the 14-hour drive many times but we're going for a quick long-weekend this time and can't afford to devote that much time to travel in exchange for lost beach/visiting time.

And then....
Sam's sister and her boyfriend decided to get married! In Texas! Which is practically un-drivable no matter how long you plan to stay.

And THEN!
My brother and his girlfriend decided to get married!! In MONTANA! Which, short of renting an RV, (which is too close to camping for comfort in my book) is TOTALLY un-drivable unless you're a bunch of college kids on a road-trip to Wherever, Man!

Which we're not. We're a family of one normal adult, one neurotic adult, one worrier preschooler, and one Wild Thing toddler. How the hell are we going to manage flying? Not to mention the fact that when we make our near-cross country flights for the weddings, we'll add to that chaos a teeny tiny baby.

At dinner tonight, Evan was in tears, demanding that we drive. (Same kid that refuses to ride the preschool's school bus on field trips. Same kid that, at a local festival where kids can get into and push the buttons of and turn on the sirens of dozens of REAL (parked) work trucks, rescue vehicles, etc., prefers instead to stand at a distance, hands over his ears, saying, "Wow. Cool." Same kid that swears up and down that he's going to drive a backhoe or a grapple loader or a giant excavator or a hook and ladder fire truck when he grows up. A kid can dream....)

Max had to be forcibly removed from the library today because of his Wild Thing behavior (but I'll eat him up, I love him so). Can you IMAGINE him on a PLANE?

And then there's me.

And an infant.

On a plane.

Three separate times.

Shirley, I can't be serious.

Lesson Learned:
So help me figure out how to convince my four-year old to get onto the plane (I'm thinking lollipops and marshmallows?) and how to keep my 2-year old occupied during the flight. Also, feel free to share any other tips, tricks, must-haves, and helpful reminders of how to successfully, safely, and sanely travel with little ones.

mind your manners

2011-09-14T13:46:00.000-04:00

Now I know I'm no Emily Post....but sometimes it's not so much a matter of etiquette as it is just plain Being Polite.

....

The other day, as I was leaving the grocery store with a cart full of groceries and two happy kiddos driving the car cart, an elderly gentleman smiled and said, "My! Don't YOU have your hands full?" Now, I know he was just trying to be friendly, but really? Hands full? Actually, sir, I'm feeling quite hands-free today. See that Wild One in the passenger seat? See how he's strapped in and contentedly honking his horn? We're just fine today. Wanna see my hands full? Come with me to Target. So, yes, I admit it: We have our not-so-pretty moments. And sometimes my hands may be full. But they're full by choice, and I like them that way. If you happen to come across a Mom with her hands truly full, (juggling a slippery toddler hoisted on her hip, balancing an armful of shopping bags on the other side of her growing baby belly, and guiding a preschooler out the door with her elbow, for example) hold the door for her. That's all. She can handle the rest.

....and....

Don't tell anyone, at anytime, that she looks tired. Especially if that person is a pregnant mother. She is tired. She knows it. She doesn't need to be reminded of the fact. And besides, she chose babies over sleeping-in and reading the Sunday paper over (hot, not reheated) coffee on purpose. It's a small price to pay.

....and....

Can you believe that *four* people on *four* separate occasions have asked me if this baby was "planned or......?" !!! FIRST of all, what's with the trailing off? You're bold enough to question, basically, my birth control responsibility, but you're too shy to say the word "accident?" SECONDLY, this baby was definitely "planned." We have always known that we would love to have At Least Three Kids, and we've been very lucky. However, if this baby WERE a Happy Surprise, do you really think I'd tell you, Oh, Neighbor I Can't Even Confidently Address By Name Because We Don't Know Each Other? Or, Acquaintance Sitting Next To Me At The Baby Pool? Or, Fellow Mommy In The Mommy and Me Gym Class? Or, Stranger Standing Behind Me In Line At Kroger? Please. And finally, not that this question would EVER be appropriate, but this is my THIRD baby!! Is it really so surprising that families would want more than two children?!

Lesson Learned:
As a basic rule of thumb: If it's none of your business to know the answer, don't ask the question. And if you MUST say something to the Mommy you're walking past, just offer a genuine smile and say, "Your children are beautiful." We all can agree with that.

make-your-own rice table

2011-09-12T14:10:00.001-04:00

My boys sure are lucky. Not only do I spend an embarrassing amount of time on preschool/mommy blogs and Pinterest (thanks a LOT, Meghan), but I have some Really Clever and Creative Friends. And from these blogs, that damned time-suck Pinterest, and my very creative friends, I steal. All. The. Time. I steal their recipes, I steal their crafts projects, and I steal their Entertain The Kiddos Ideas. And my kids are all the more well-fed, subjected to arts and crafts, and thoughtfully entertained because of it.

This idea comes from an amalgamation of suggestions from two of my Most Clever Mommy Friends, Meghan and Krissy. These two former teachers were born to be around children. They were two of the best teachers that I ever had the good-fortune to teach beside, and their kiddos are some of the luckiest kids on the planet. And Holy Cuteness, you guys need to brace yourselves if you ever happen to be in a room with all four of their babes at once.

So here it is, our latest Stolen Idea. We put together a Rice Table.

We already have the requisite outdoor toys, sand box and water table. But this we'll keep indoors. Great for too hot or too cold weather...especially when the Baby is here and we need a low-key entertainment option.

We started with a large under-the-bed storage box. I chose one with wheels to make putting it away in storage (the floor of our large coat closet near our family room) a cinch. Make sure to get one with a locking mechanism to keep the lid in place when not in use. I added three largish-size bags of rice and...the best part...Rainbow Star-Shaped Pasta! The stars are itty bitty and I divided 4 1-lb. boxes among six large Ziploc bags. To each bag we added a few tablespoons of rubbing alcohol and several drops of food coloring (just add a drop at a time until you get the color saturation you're going for, especially in the secondary colors, orange and purple...you'll probably find green coloring pretty easily). Squish up the bag until all of the pasta is dyed and let dry. I kept my bags sealed overnight, then opened them to let them finish drying the next day.

The kids jumped right in. Max immediately began grabbing handfuls to fill up the measuring cups and other small containers I included in the box.

Evan started a bit more slowly, first using some of the tools I included (spoons, popsicle sticks, stirrers, cups with handles, etc.) in order to avoid hand-to-rice contact. This is a great Sensory Table for kids with tactile sensitivities or Sensory Processing Disorder. It allows for graduated sensory involvement (for instance, using tools first, before getting fully submersed in rice), unlike shaving cream (which Evan was unwilling to play with until just recently) or sand (which is hard to get unstuck from between the fingers, causing extreme discomfort to some kids).

Before long, all the pasta mixed up with the rice making the whole box "Rainbowed," according to Evan (and "Pitty!" according to Max).

And Evan began to get a little bolder, using the work trucks (a MUST at any play space in this house) to get a bit closer to the rice.

Meanwhile, Max got busy making me soup and birthday cakes.

Until finally, after about half an hour, Evan Made Contact. And after he mustered the courage to do it, Evan proclaimed, "It feels good! Soft and silky. It's not itchy!" Total Sensory Success.

And, to no one's surprise, Max didn't stop with Hand Exploration. This kid's sensory experience is more of a Whole Body Experience. And he loved every minute of it.

Lesson Learned:

Fair Warning: This is an indoor project not for the Anti-Vacuuming-After-Play. Although I put a large picnic blanket under the bin, rice was Everywhere. It vacuums up easily, though, so I hope that doesn't deter you. If you want your kids to use it outdoors, just make a portable table. It shouldn't be kept outdoors all the time as it will attract bugs.

I really can't believe it's taken me so long to put this activity together. Both boys really loved it and benefited from the sensory exploration. They didn't realize that's what they were doing, though. Evan was just a Worker Man at a Job Site and Max was just hard at work, mixing and stirring and cooking up a storm in his kitchen.

independence

2011-09-08T20:45:00.000-04:00

"Water, pease, Mommy? I do it, Big Boy."

Oops...dropped the cup.

Try again...

Hmmmm....enough?

Nope.

Enough!

So proud.

Lesson Learned:
This adorable feat was followed by a full cup of water all over the floor. And tears over spilled water. So he did it Again.

more fishing fun

2011-09-08T13:30:00.000-04:00

These boys love fishing. It may have something to do with the fact that the three times they've gone Real Fishing with Daddy, they've caught real fish. (Sam is worried that he's inadvertently created Unrealistic Fishing Expectations.) They also love Pretend Fishing, which is when they find any stick-shaped object and try to pick up any other object with it. Or just sit, legs dangling over the arm of the couch, with "rod" in hand and announce, "I'm fishin'!" We've fashioned a real pretend fishing game in the past, which is still among the favorite games in the house that isn't truck-driving or couch-jumping or brother-chasing.

Today, we made a new version.

Pipe Cleaner Fishing!

The interest in the game lasted longer for Big than it did for Little, who preferred to use the pipe cleaners to accessorize. He wore them until lunch time. I love this kid.

Lesson Learned:

We string beads on pipe cleaners for fine motor practice (and addition/number sense...each pipe cleaner is like a mini-abacus). We make sculptures and, yes, glasses/bracelets/crowns/necklaces with them. We wind them around pencils and make little springs to boing to (and at) each other. And now we fish with them. Best part is, you use them how you want to today, straighten them out and reuse them in another way tomorrow. Practically free, creative, quiet fun.

preschool diaries: welcome to the oaks

2011-09-07T21:23:00.000-04:00

Last night was a sad night in our house. And this morning was a Very Sad morning. There were lots of tears, lots of times when a skinny four-year old body crumpled to the floor awaiting the Mommy to come and scoop him up and reassure him, lots of "But, [sniff] I wanna stay home with you and Max!"'s, two nervous tummies, and lots of holding back grown-up sized tears.

And then, after a seemingly endless sad morning, it was time to go to school.

So two little boys put on their Brand New Big Boy Shoes, one little boy put on his Brand New Big Boy Backpack, and the three of us braced ourselves against the torrential downpour as we hurried into our car...I mean, VAN.

(Our pre-preschool photo shoot. The first shot was natural, then I tried to make him laugh.)

(and succeeded.)

When we arrived in the Outstanding Oaks classroom, I showed Evan over to his cubby, where he would keep his things. As I was balancing his backpack, raincoat, and lunchbox on his tiny, crowded-by-other-backpacks/raincoats/and lunchboxes-hook, he stood close to me, one hand on my shoulder, eyes peeking around the room.

And then he saw the Construction Center. This classroom has an area of the room that I'm pretty sure the teachers designed with Evan in mind. There are blocks, a fully-stocked tool bench, construction trucks of every job imaginable, a castle building set, a Lincoln Log building set, a marble maze, and various other tool/construction/building materials and toys, including doll houses and "family" transportation vehicles, like an airplane ("for vacations") and a van with a roof that pops up ("for camping"). Doesn't get much cooler than that. (Although, with a mother like me, I'm not sure how he knows what "camping" is.)

"Um, while you're doing this.....can I go play?" he said.

"Are you sure you're ready?" I asked....

"Yup!" And he was off.

He wandered around for a bit considering the blocks, and then the tool bench, and then the building set, but not choosing anything in particular. His teacher approached him and said, "Oh, Evan! I love your shoes!" (Brand new black and white Converse Low-Tops that he picked out all by himself. Love that kid.) "I have some just like that at home," she continued, "Can we wear them on the same day and be twins?" And he looked at her with his eyes twinkling and a smile peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

I chatted with his teacher for a minute while I watched him navigate the blocks and trucks area. When he saw that another little boy had already set up all the trucks, he watched for a beat or two before saying, "Can I have the orange backhoe?" Luckily, the kid was the kind of kid who responded with a "Sure!" instead of a "No. I had if first." That could have caused a Major Setback. Instead, I watched as my Big Boy and the new friend played, independently yet side-by-side, with their trucks.

And then it was time. And so I gave a quick and quiet, "Goodbye, my love, I'll see you after school," received a teensy smile and a wave in response, and left the room with my Maxwell, off to spend a Mommy and Me morning together at a gym and art class (followed by a lunch date at Tropical Smoothie, which very well may be our new Wednesday routine).

***

And then there was Pick-Up. Max and I tip-toed into the room during Story Time. Evan was sitting on the carpet with the rest of the class (holding the "I love you, Evan!" lunchbox note I had written this morning). He spotted me and gave me a little grin, but didn't move, so I gave a little smile and wave and continued on through the classroom to wait in line to chat with his other teacher. After a minute or so, I heard a very familiar, Very Grumpy voice say, "I'm going home now." And then the meltdown began.

As I tried to discreetly motion him over to me with a, "Yes, we're going home now," look, his teacher began to tell me that he had fallen asleep during Rest Time (uh oh) and they had to wake him up (yikes) and that he had a "pretty grumpy" afternoon (well, they did, after all, disturb a sleeping grizzly). Evan does not arouse gently. More often than not, we're left wondering if there even IS a right side of his bed. And that's when he wakes on his own. Don't EVEN get me started on the wrath you face when you interrupt his slumber.

Evan is a highly sensitive child. (It's a technical term. I've read the book.) When he's uncomfortable (physically, emotionally, socially, medically, whatever) life isn't just "uncomfortable," it's unbearable. Transitions are really hard on him. He needs transition countdowns and verbal cues leading up to the end or start of an activity and needs some support and time to adjust in the new situation. Being awoken in a strange room, by a strange person, in a stimulating environment, with 11 other kids running around, is a big transition that is sure to make most people feel "uncomfortable." We've spent the last year starting to figure him out and finding ways to keep him comfortable in every way we can while maintaining a healthy family dynamic (i.e. he doesn't always get his way, even if that IS the only way to avoid a tantrum of epic proportions). And it'll take time for his teachers to figure him out (on their own and with our input) and it'll take time for Evan to find his place in his new classroom.

And so I know this. I know that every school year is going to bring with it a necessary Adjustment Period. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to hear Evan wail on the way home, "I don't EVER want to go back to school. EVER!" between sobs.

[heart. breaking.]

And so we arrived home, softened the afternoon with First Day of School Cupcakes and quiet time with the Wild Kratts on pbskids.org, and salvaged the rest of the day. More or less. He was able to tell us some Good Parts about his day...and didn't freak out when I mentioned going back to school on Friday.

He was asleep before 7:30 and that's AFTER his nap.

My poor baby.

Lesson Learned:
Fingers crossed for a wide-awake rest time on Friday...

preschool diaries: here we go again. Gulp.

2011-08-31T20:51:00.002-04:00

Okay. So, we apparently have issues with starting school. Last year, the Big First Day was postponed because of Evan's missing kneecap. Today's Open House was missed because of an illness double-whammy at our house. Evan is dealing with yet another round of a fever virus and Max has a barking cough that I'm afraid is going to settle in for yet another round of bronchiolitis. In to the doctor we go, first thing tomorrow.

But first...
Isn't it really interesting that EVERY time Evan gets sick, whether it's an ear infection, strep throat, or just a random virus, that it presents as a really high fever? And isn't it strange that EVERY time Max gets sick, it settles into his lungs and develops into RSV or bronchiolitis? I think it's really true that kids have their immune system weak points. I remember it very clearly from growing up in a family of eight kids. One of my sisters always got strep throat; a brother contracted pneumonia every single winter; another brother was The Puker; and me, I was the kid with the stomachaches. (But they were psychosomatic. I had school anxiety. Some things never change, huh?)

And the apple doesn't fall too far, does it? So could it be that Evan's fevers are psychosomatic, too? I mean, probably not in this case....Max is clearly fighting something pretty hard, too, which indicates that they both got hit with the same bug. But Evan gets sick either before or after just about every life transition he encounters. He's been sick immediately before or following every vacation we've ever taken. He struggled with the post-Christmas return-to-school with fever viruses striking every three weeks or so for MONTHS. It just makes me wonder....

Anyway. Back to school!

I'm excited for him...I think he's really ready this year. He's been talking a lot about what he wants to learn in school. (Animals. It's all about animals. In his latest imaginary world, he has been cast as An Animal Rescuer who travels the globe saving animals in danger--from environmental woes, poachers, accidents, and, sometimes, even their own rascally hijinx.) And he seems legitimately excited to talk about school...as long as we don't talk about riding the bus on field trips, the fact that school will be providing the snacks this year, the art or handwriting centers, or, well, really anything other than what he'll be learning about.

But, damn. I'm going to miss him.

Last year was tough for me, and he was only away for six hours a week. This year, he'll be At School from 9:30-3, THREE days a week. Gulp.

We chose this. We want this for him. He will benefit from this, not only this year, but in thinking of it as preparation for Kindergarten. But it's a lot. And it's going to be hard....because he's my buddy. And I'm going to miss him.

But....
This is going to give Max and I some really good together time before the baby arrives. My little Maxwell, who is happy to go along with whatever Evan dictates just about all the time, is finally going to have a chance to be the decision maker. And Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are going to be all about him. (And the grocery store and Target, but for the most part, it'll be Max's choice.)

Deep breaths. Relax. We have one more week. Let's get healthy and make the most of these last few days of summer...

Lesson Learned:
Does the first day of school EVER get easier? I mean, for the mommy...

allergy set-back

2011-08-30T20:56:00.000-04:00

And we had been doing so well....

Evan's been tolerating baked milk in cookies, cupcakes, and even pancakes ever since he technically passed his milk challenge a few months ago. Read about it here and here.

And then, with the recent success in testing for tree nuts, fish, and shellfish (here), I had been feeling pretty confident about his allergies. Too confident, I suppose.

During quiet time today, as we took turns playing Cut the Rope on my iPad (what?), I grabbed a snack bar for me and some veggie chips for Ev. Evan was eyeing my bar so I offered him a bite. Like a good allergy mom, I prefaced my offer with: "Let me check the label first, bud." It specifically said that it contained MILK, but I wasn't worried since he's successfully eaten pancakes with milk in the batter AND real chocolate chips. It also said that it was processed on equipment that also manufactures products with tree nuts. But it didn't list peanuts and he tests non-allergic to tree nuts (and we've had products with similar warning labels before with no issue).

He took a bite. "Yum!" he said, "That's delicious!" I offered him another bite. As he chewed and swallowed, a weird look came over his face. "That's not good after all," he said, "it's too spicy." Spicy? It's a fruit bar. Uh oh. He started gagging as if he was going to get sick so I brought him into the bathroom and gave him some water. He swished and spit for about 10 minutes, during which time I called his allergist. I left a message on the nurse hotline and, by the time I was finished, he seemed better. He said his tummy and mouth felt fine, he drank some (hemp) milk and he got back to Cutting the Rope.

When the nurse called back, I explained the symptoms of his reaction and told her how I "treated" it. I asked if, in the future, a "spicy" feeling and spitting (but no vomiting) should warrant further treatment. "You definitely should have immediately given him Benadryl to de-escalate a potentially serious reaction." Whoops. "Okay," I responded, "so I know now to NOT feed him those snack bars, of course, and I know what to do if he says something bland tastes 'spicy,' is there anything else I should know?"

"I'm going to talk to Dr. B, but he may recommend that you cut all milk from his diet again."

Which sucks.

I didn't hear back from Dr. B today. To be fair, it was after office hours by the time I talked to the nurse. He's a pretty liberal doctor, so I'm really hoping that he'll say that I can continue to give him baked milk in products that he's successfully eaten before today (such as the baked goods I've made containing milk). And Evan doesn't *need* to be eating processed foods containing milk, anyway, so it won't be a huge loss....but it still feels like a step backwards. And that's frustrating.

Lesson Learned:
The good news? This happened at home. And now I know that I can't get too comfortable with just letting him eat whatever he wants. We may have made some huge strides in the last year or so, but Evan still has food allergies and food allergies are unpredictable. His sensitivity to certain foods may come and go. He may safely eat something once and react to it the next time. I need to be careful. And better to learn that lesson in our kitchen and not at school or a birthday party.

survival guide

2011-08-29T21:43:00.000-04:00

Based on our recent experience with a certain Irene...and the fact that this hurricane season is just getting into its groove...I thought I'd pass along some tips we learned along the way this weekend. Tips to help maintain your comfort, safety, and sanity while weathering a massive storm and the subsequent power outages it brings.

Tip #1: Before the storm *really* hits, bring your kids to an indoor play space where they can burn off the energy they would otherwise be taking out on your couch, and each other, while the weather wreaks havoc on your trees. While you're out, allow them to each pick out a Brand New Toy. Yes, those Thomas the Tank Engine trains may have been $14 each, and no, we don't even have a Thomas the Tank Engine set, but that was the best $28 we've spent in a long time. Those over-priced, "cheeky" engines kept the boys happily occupied All Day Long.

Tip #2: Also, make sure they each have their own flashlight with plenty of spare Double As. Even before the lights go out, they'll need them. And they'll serve as Excellent night-lights when the power is out in the middle of the night.

Tip #3: Which reminds me: If your kid is dependent on white noise machines, get ones with battery back-up. And if they don't make them, I call dibs on that patent because we were Seriously Wanting One Saturday night.

Tip #4: Live next door to a really generous guy who owns a generator and is willing to share an outlet. You'll owe him big time when you're the only ones in the 'hood not throwing out the contents of your fridge when the lights come back on.

Tip #5: When the going gets real tough (which for us hit at about hour 19) pack up and head to your sister's brand-new house a couple of hours outside the path of destruction. You'll appreciate the hot coffee and white noise at bedtime. Your kids will appreciate the Disney channel. But mostly, they'll appreciate the Cousins Time, as evidenced by the adorable impromptu dance show the four littlest ones put on for us this afternoon.

Lesson Learned:
I am not cut out for roughing it. Luckily, I get by with a little help from my friends. And family. But we had it Real Easy. I hope all of my power-less friends get back on the grid ASAP. I hope my friends and family in the north get out from underwater even faster. And I hope my friends who are dealing with loss and destruction of property from falling trees have really good insurance and agents who are working around the clock to make things right, Now. Hurricanes suck.

and then there were two. JUST TWO!!!

2011-08-15T14:59:00.000-04:00

A while back, I posted about Evan's (and Max's) recent skin prick allergy tests. Following the results (all negatives, except for Evan's stubborn milk intolerance), it was recommended that Evan have blood drawn for RAST testing, which is a more trusted test of true allergies. We've done it before. Based on his RAST numbers, it would be determined if Evan is still in fact allergic to some of these foods (peanuts, all tree nuts, all fish and shellfish, and sesame) or if it was time for some food challenges.

Today I called for the results.....[drumroll...]. He's still allergic to peanuts (level 3 RAST, which indicates a high level of allergic response) and to raw milk (I didn't get the level, but he's still demonstrating a response to raw milk protein. He's been consuming small amounts of baked milk...in cookies, cupcakes, etc. but has not consumed any other dairy like cheese or yogurt. We still need to avoid these.). But he's negative to ALL of the rest! And not just negative as in "a statistically insignificant number," but negative as in ZERO, as in NO CHANCE of allergic reaction if ingested.

This is so huge.

It's huge because it basically eliminates the fear I've carried around with me for the past 3+ years of watching my baby experience anaphylaxis again. And it's huge because a zero, as opposed to "a statistically insignificant number" means NO FOOD CHALLENGES!!

Can you imagine if we had had to challenge EACH individual tree nut, and fish, and shellfish?! It would have probably gone something like this or this or worse. No, definitely worse.

I would have gone crazy. Or we would have just continued to avoid because the prospect of putting Evan through that (or me, or the nurses, for that matter) would have seemed nightmarish.

I literally cannot think of a better outcome to the testing. (Well, technically zeroes on milk and peanut would have been better, but raw milk and peanuts are so easy to avoid. I mean, who doesn't know a kid allergic to peanuts?!)

Lesson Learned:
So, I get off the phone with the nurse and tell Evan the good news. "It doesn't matter," he says, "I'm not eating that stuff anyway." Just as I suspected, my love. But considering we are down to just two little allergies after an initial diagnosis of 13+, I'll just be happy enough for the two of us.

conquering fears

2011-08-14T21:17:00.001-04:00

Sam and I went away for a night. Without the kids. For the first time ever.

I have never been away from both of my children at the same time for more than a couple of hours at a time. I've never been away from Max. I've only ever left Evan at preschool and, except for the two days I was in the hospital after having Max, never over night.

But....I noticed an opportunity....Evan and Max are at such "independent" ages: easy to put to bed, on a relatively predictable schedule, and easily distracted from separation anxiety. And this window of opportunity is rapidly coming to a close (for the next couple of years, anyway), come February and the arrival of the new baby.

And so, I put on my Big Girl Pants and planned a trip for me and Sam. Albeit a quick one....and pretty close to home. But a trip nonetheless.

The leaving was hard....Not for Evan....he was captivated by a conversation with Grandpop about the forest fire on the North Carolina border. But Max was pretty sad and clingy, "Coming! I coming! Max coming! Home time! Mommy home time!" And there were tears...Max's and, subsequently, mine. But Max's were soothed by Grandmother's idea to decorate cupcakes. And mine were soothed once I heard that he had stopped crying before we even left the garage.

And then we were off! With this special green leaf in hand that Evan gave to me with the following instructions: "Here's your leaf, Mommy. I got it just for you in case you miss me. If you miss me you can just look at it and it'll make you happy." My sweet, thoughtful boy.

So we went to Charlottesville and stayed at a beautiful hotel with gorgeous views.

And then went for a walk on the Downtown Mall, for some shopping....people watching...leisurely conversation....

...and some chalk drawing....this is a huge slate wall open for public drawing, graffiti, and political sentiments....

...along with some timely reminders...

...and love notes....

We also enjoyed some free live music. I wonder where this cellist came from....what his story is...and if he's happy. His music sounded sad....

And then, to top off the evening, we ate at one of my absolute Charlottesville favorites (of which there are many. So many. I dream about Charlottesville restaurants. In my pregnancies, I crave Charlottesville restaurants...coincidence that I planned a trip here mid-pregnancy? Hmmmmm.).

This is not the menu. This is just the BEER menu. And it's not even ALL the beer, just the bottled beer. Here, there are 66 different kinds of bottled beer. Plus a dozen or so on tap.

The waiter asked what I'd like and looked honestly shocked when I answered, "Just water." I patted my big, round tummy and said, "Until February, anyway." His face lit up and he said, "Congratulations! My son's due date is today!" !!! He seemed full of nervous energy all night, and was just about the giddiest tattooed tap-house waiter I've ever seen. I loved it. And I loved talking babies with this first-time dad-to-be, who had no idea just how amazing and beautiful his life was about to become.

And so we sat on the balcony, drinking beer and water, and watching the world go by beneath us.

My thai chicken curry was just okay.

Yeah, right. It was so delicious (and spicy) in fact, that when I finished I got the sweetest thing....the very first baby kicks!! It was in perfect comedic ba-dum CHING! rhythm. And at just 12 weeks and 5 days, it was a very welcome and very happy surprise. Is there anything better?

After dinner, we headed back to the hotel. We congratulated ourselves on being such brave parents. And then Sam said, "But I'm glad we're heading back tomorrow. I want to see the kids." And that's why I married him...because as much as we loved our grown-up time, we're a family. We belong together.

We enjoyed a leisurely wake-up at 7 am, without our daily alarm clock of pitter-pattering, not-so-little feet and a "whispering" voice loudly asking, "Is it time to go downstairs yet?" And with only ourselves to get ready for the day, arrived at breakfast half an hour before our reservation. After breakfast, we hit the road, eager to get home to our kiddos. Our family.

We spent the afternoon at the park and, even though it had only been 24-hours away, I basked in this....

....and this...

....and this.

But especially, This....

....and This.

Lesson Learned:
I'm glad we did it. We'll do it again. But not anytime soon.

gratitude

2011-08-09T20:16:00.000-04:00

Today, I am thankful.....

that I had the opportunity to see my size-of-a-lime baby wave tiny baby arms, cross tiny baby legs, and suck tiny baby fists during an ultrasound.

for an OB who gets as excited as I do when we hear the baby's heartbeat on the Doppler monitor. Each and every time.

to be 12 weeks and 1 day pregnant. With the worst of the sickness behind me (knocking vigorously on wood) and with the beginning of the happy/comfortable/relaxed/energetic/glow-worthy second trimester within sight.

to still have my hair intact and healthy (albeit completely devoid of style....suggestions?). And to know that the Horrendous Hair Loss Fiasco of my second pregnancy's first trimester is not my forever-after fate for current or future pregnancies.

to have two young kiddos who were kind and patient enough with me throughout my most on-the-floor sick days. Who surprised me, and probably themselves, with their ability to entertain themselves and each other when Mommy needed a little extra time in the morning.

for pbskids.com and specifically, The Wild Kratts, which has occupied my 4-year old's Quiet Time and allowed me to "Rest My Eyes" on the couch just about every afternoon. Also, for teaching him even more about animals than he already knew. He has regularly been donning Creature Power Suits, which give him the power to run like a cheetah, jump like a caracal, swim like a remora, glide like a draco, and more. Fuel for the imagination of a very imaginative and creature-loving kiddo.

for my husband who, at this very moment, and for the billionth time already this pregnancy, has gone to pick up take-out (soup and fish tacos!) after getting dinner for the boys....and who will, no doubt, continue to do so happily and without complaint many times over the course of the next 28 weeks (year?).

for my volley-ball-sized belly, which, despite the fact that this baby is only 6.1 cm long, and at only 12 weeks, is making this pregnancy impossible to conceal. Which just allows me to shout the good news from the rooftop all the easier. And what pregnant woman doesn't just bask in the belly-glance-smiles that strangers everywhere just can't help but to give?

and....
for my great big family. With so much to celebrate....new jobs, new homes, weddings, babies, success in school, success in sports....and so much to look forward to as our family continues to achieve important and grown-up milestones and continues to grow and multiply....and so much love, support, and pride between and among us.

Lesson Learned:
Don't blame it on the pregnancy hormones, this gratitude sappiness is always present. I'm the nerd who insists that we go around the table and Give Thanks at Thanksgiving Dinner. And I call re-do for the people who say lame things like "Air to breathe." But I know they secretly love it.....because when I'm not there, someone steps in and says it for me.

all you need is more love

2011-08-03T21:06:00.000-04:00

As we sat down to eat dinner the other night, Max spotted the sliced olives topping my pasta and began shouting: "Oliees! Max's pwate! Oliees Max's pwate NOW! Peeeees OLIEES!" So, I stood up to get some olives for Max's plate. Now. Evan asked what I was doing.

"Max wants olives on his pasta just like me. Max likes olives," I said.
"I think Max likes you, Mommy."
"Well, I sure hope so, buddy. I love Max."
"I like you, Mommy."
"I'm so glad that you do, Ev. I LOVE you."

And then it started....as it does every few weeks.....the I Love You More Debate. We have an adorable board book, I Love You More, that a friend gave to Max when he was born. It's the story of a Mom and a little boy deciding who loves whom more. "I love you higher than the highest bird ever flew." "I love you taller than the tallest tree ever grew," etc. It makes a perfect baby gift. The recipient will read it over and over and over to her babies. I promise.

Every so often, after one of us has said, "I love you," Evan begins to come up with his own version of the story...to which we, of course, add our own....each of us trying to out-love the last. He's getting pretty creative.....here are some of my favorites of Evan's contributions:

I love you farther than the farthest away star.
I love you bigger than the biggest planet.
I love you deeper than the deepest hole.
I love you faster than the fastest jet.
I love you bigger than the biggest ocean.
I love you stronger than the strongest bulldozer.
I love you louder than the loudest thunder boom.
I love you bigger than the biggest skyscraper.
I love you higher than a really tall tree can reach.
I love you faster than the fastest cheetah.
I love you sweeter than the sweetest song a bird sings.
I love you more powerful than the most powerful elk.

You know what, kiddo? I love you more.

Lesson Learned:
And I'm filing this away for those moments (like this morning) (and this evening) when I need a reminder of the sweetness that IS always there behind the whiny stubbornness.

give the baby what the baby wants

2011-07-31T20:40:00.000-04:00

Well, it's official. I can now record in Baby #3's Baby Book what I Officially Craved during my pregnancy: Soup and Bagels. Yup, hot soup. In 100-degree July, the only thing this baby wants is hot soup. And bagels....topped with anything....cream cheese and cukes being the current favorite, mostly due to a plethora of home-grown cucumbers pouring out of our garden.....or left plain and dipped in some hot soup.

I picked up two take-home containers of Panera soup today (along with a dozen bagels, of course). Ate the broccoli cheddar right away (my head convinced my stomach to leave the creamy tomato in the fridge for tomorrow's fix), but that wasn't enough. So I made some more soup for dinner.

I first had this vegetarian "chili" at the beach. My mom had made a ton of it...and I ate just about all of it. Since the beach, I have made it twice, each time tweaking it to fit what I had on hand. That's the best part about this soup....it's a dump all the veggies you have in the house/garden sort of soup.

So here's the recipe:
(And even if you're not pregnant, it's really quite delicious on a summer evening....because it's meatless, it's not at all heavy. And it's super-fast to throw together.....just be sure to throw it together an hour or so before you plan to eat it).

one onion
one each green, yellow, red bell pepper (if you like that many peppers, if not, cut it back)
2-3 yellow or zucchini squash, or both
carrots (baby or chopped conventional)
peas, corn, spinach, whatever you like
2-3 cans of beans (drained and rinsed)....our favorite, because Max is a Garbanzo Boy, is two cans of black beans and one can of chickpeas....kidney beans make it more "chili" chili
3-4 14.5-oz cans diced tomatoes (start with three and if you've chopped up too many veggies, add another)

Chop the veggies and let them soften in a big pot in some olive oil. Add the beans and tomatoes and stir it up. Sprinkle some chili spices....I don't really measure here, so bear with me....I add some cumin (a couple of teaspoons?), yellow curry (less than a teaspoon?), a few shakes of crushed red pepper, I add some coriander, too, but I don't think that's a typical chili spice. I just like it. Stir in the spices and cover the pot. Let simmer for about an hour.

Sprinkle with cheese. Serve with your favorite crusty bread. (Or bagel.)

Lesson Learned:
Mmmmmmmmm.......summertime soup.

walking water

2011-07-29T17:44:00.000-04:00

I saw this experiment on an Australian preschool blog I've been reading called Irresistible Ideas for Play Based Learning. I knew I had to try it with the boys. And I'm also now considering moving to Australia in time to enroll my kids for preschool. Seriously. Not really. But the bloggers are creating an online database of preschools and they are all A-MAY-ZING. They travel the country interviewing teachers and directors, observing students playing and learning, and photographing the centers and the activities at each. The programs are creative, rich, and engaging and furthermore, I want my kids to have Australian accents.

Back to Walking Water.

So you'll need two glasses and something to elevate one of them. Fill the top glass with colored water. Tell your little one that you can make the water WALK from the top cup into the bottom cup. They will be astonished. Or if he's Evan, he'll say, "Okay." So you may have to help build some excitement.

So you'll brainstorm some ways to get the water to move ("You could just pour it.") and then, eventually, you'll reach the conclusion to build a bridge! Use a strip of paper towel, just long enough to reach from the bottom of the top cup into the bottom cup (doesn't have to touch the bottom).

And then...watch the water walk across the bridge!

We left it up all day...by dinner time, all of the water had completed the journey.

Lesson Learned:

Another quick and easy science lesson. It really was cool to watch. Next up...food-colored carnations and daisies? Yup, I think so.

hummingbirds

2011-07-28T14:27:00.001-04:00

We recently attached a hummingbird feeder to our back sliding glass door.

It's right next to our kitchen table and has provided The Best Mealtime Entertainment since Max learned how to dance on his chair (which, though adorable, we're trying to discourage).

Evan loves trying to spot familiar hummingbirds and new visitors to the feeder. So far, we've identified a "red-neck one," a "brownish little one," a "shiny green wing one," and "that one with the stripes on his neck." Those are their scientific names, by the way.

Max loves naming each one as Mommy, Daddy, Big Brother, or Baby. (He's got another thing coming in February when there's a new Baby in town.) And then, inevitably, "humma buhd FLY 'way."

Lesson Learned:

Hovering near my head as I work in my garden, they seem like huge, disgusting bugs. But seen through a window, they're really quite beautiful.

don't judge

2011-07-26T21:18:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, when my only child was just 20-months old or so, I was strolling the aisles of Target. My sweet little shopping buddy sat happily in the cart looking at what I pointed out, smiling at the toys I held up for him to explore, and munching on his snack while I browsed the clothing and home decor sections at my leisure.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed--because it was impossible not to--the most frazzled, harried-looking woman I had ever seen. She was practically yelling, "No running! Jackson, stop! Come back to Mommy!" as she, get this: CHASED HER TODDLER DOWN AN AISLE.

"Tsk. Tsk." I thought smugly....naively...judgementally. "Who would allow their child to act like that in a store?"

And then I looked back down to my Evan, who was still sitting happily, and looking up at me with those Melt You big brown eyes with a look that said, "Who would ever act like that in a store?" And I felt totally confident in my parenting ability.

And then there was Max.

Holy. Cow. You guys--I was that mom in Target yesterday.

The trip started out pretty well....I, smartly, began with a stop at the concession counter and bought a lemonade bribe...I mean, treat. The boys sat strapped into that giant train-sized cart with the two seats attached to the back, happily sipping on their "moh-nade." But I needed about a dozen things, which, in my experience in Target, really means about thirty things. We were halfway through when we needed to breeze past the toy aisle. No problem. I can handle the toy aisle. Each kid gets to pick one aisle, we spend a minute or two in each, and we're back on our way.

He started to get pretty restless around the diaper aisle. "Mommy! I WALK! I ALL DONE with MOH-NADE!" I tried to distract him with the shows on the TVs in the DVD aisle across the way, but Charlie Brown was on and he was totally uninterested. I thought maybe I could keep him occupied by holding onto something from the cart. He threw the bag of pretzels on the floor. I'm not sure why, but I decided to then hand him the shampoo. He threw that, too, and it rolled down the aisle. So I left the cart and ran after it. Of course I did.

That's when I could feel the judgement coming. Not from other Moms....they, all smarter than the me from Once Upon A Time, weren't judging. They were all probably thinking, "I've been there," or "That could so be me someday," or maybe at the very least, "I have compassion for that woman who has her hands very full with that one." Nope, the judgement came, instead, from my first-born, who was giving me the look that said, "Sigh. She really doesn't have a handle on the situation, does she?" Meanwhile, Max is yelling louder, quite convinced that I am not comprehending his commands of "I get DOWN!" and "I WALK NOW, MOMMY!"

But I still needed facial moisturizer (because I buy all of my cosmetics at Target, what?), toothpaste, and dish soap. And I was getting desperate. He's now squirmed his arms out of his 5-point harness and is shimmying his leg up to his chest beneath the strap. Evan is shaking his head in disdain.

So that's when I made the wrong decision. Right decision? Leave the store. Forget the necessities. Go back out after Daddy gets home for some uninterrupted solo-shopping time. Buy a fancy (decaf) coffee on the way and bask in the luxury of Alone Time. Instead, I unstrap the beast. I try to hoist him onto my hip, which of course doesn't work. He flails his body head-first towards the floor while screaming, "I WALK! I WALK! I WALK!" I manage to catch him before impact and put him down right side up. By now I'm sweating. And yet I'm still heading towards the damn lotion aisle.

I am able to convince him to Give Evan a Ride! and he's "helping" me push the cart. I grab the first lotion I see that has the red sale tag below it and we're on to toothpaste. Evan is telling Max to "Push faster!" which is fine because, despite the increasing speed and volume of our party, the Little Beast is still, loosely, tethered to the cart. I don't even pause as I grab a toothpaste off the shelf and we have but one item on our list.

And that's when Max decides that he's Done Shopping. He made it quite clear. He let go of the cart, looked up at me defiantly as he said, "I all done." And then he took off. He may not be even two years old. He may be built more like a brick than a gazelle. But damn. That kid is fast.

And, suddenly, I was That Mom, chasing the child down the main aisle of Target, calling, "Max! Walk Max! Walking feet! Back to Mommy!" Holy embarrassment.

And all the while, Evan sat, happily strapped into the cart, sipping his lemonade and shaking his head at the spectacle of it all.

Lesson Learned:
Well, we headed straight from Target to the library and experienced even less Public Behavior Success, so, apparently, nothing yet.

harvest time!

2011-07-25T20:39:00.000-04:00

So we may be well into (nearing the end of) July....but, we're okay with that. We're all about slow and steady progress around here. Over the last few weeks, we've been reaping what we...sowed? Sown? Had sown? Planted. We've been picking and eating what we planted.

(We've been picking basil and baby strawberries for longer...but they haven't been as exciting to photo-document.)

Have you ever seen a cucumber in the middle of growing? I hadn't. I would have imagined a tiny cucumber that gets bigger all over. But nope, it gets fat at one end before the other end has even really started to grow. Weird.

The sweetest cherry tomatoes I've ever tasted.

Evan likes how they smell, not taste. Max likes his dipped in ranch dressing.

Is this a country fair blue-ribbon winner or WHAT?!

The cucumber is pretty impressive, too.

Lesson Learned:

Best. Mother's. Day. Present. EVER.

beach boys

2011-07-24T20:55:00.000-04:00

We have just returned from two weeks at the beach. I could sum it up for you, of course, like I did last year with a Top Ten list. But it would look an awful lot like last year's list. I'd have to substitute "Learning to Dive Headfirst into Chest-High Waves" for Max's "Learning to Crawl" and I'd take out the the part about Evan's naps and replace it with a description of an Inexhaustible 4-Year-Old Who Needed Constant Entertainment from his Very Accommodating Uncles. And I'd tell you all about how I replaced the Naptime Coronas for Mommy with a Naptime Nap for Mommy, which would be particularly exciting for you to read about.

But instead, I've narrowed it down to just two. My two Most Favorite Things about our beach trip this year.

In no particular order:

Evan taught himself how to swim!

This is huge. This is a kid who hasn't yet mastered dunking and who has been strapped into a life vest (by his own request--Safety First!) at our pool all summer. One day, about halfway through the trip, Evan took off his vest, stood on the steps in the beach house pool, and just pushed himself off. There was no talking about it, no encouragement from the parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins surrounding him...he just pushed off. And started paddling! And, on his maiden voyage, went a third of the way across the pool! He was an instant pro. I mean, he's dog-paddling, and he's still not quite ready to submerge his whole head, but he's SWIMMING ACROSS THE POOL! And he did it all on his own. He's so proud of himself and he should be. In true Evan fashion, he took his time, practiced until near-perfection in his head, and then achieved a very Big Boy skill, all by himself.

And....

Max, my Language-Explosion Toddler, mastered the art of storytelling.

Maybe it was having a huge house full of new people to impress, or maybe it was because the story material was so rich at the beach (the big, big waves! the wet, drippy sand! the pelicans on patrol! the dolphins jumping out of the water! the foxes and the deer we saw from the deck! the mommy and the baby horses we saw on the beach road! the helicopters and planes that flew in a "parade" across the sky!....among many, many others). But whatever the impetus, over the past two weeks, Max's vocabulary didn't just explode....his language did. He learned how to captivate an audience by stringing words together into sentences...sentences together to make a story. He learned how to make his stories more interesting by emphasizing particular words and using whole-body movements to illustrate his point.

After watching the trash pickup: "G'bage chuck has BIG YELLOW claw. Beach tash goes UP UP UP [standing on tip toes] and TIPS! [tips his body over] Izza big BIG mess."

And after accidentally dropping his Coco Loco snack bar into the pool: "Coco Loco bar IN da pool. Max FRO da bar OVER da fence. Foxes EAT da bar! Um Num Num Num Num!" He would act this one out entirely, almost including the part about falling into the pool.

telling Mom Mom about the poor snack bar....and the lucky foxes

And, best of all, Max learned the subtleties of infusing a story with just the right amount of humor.....In true David Letterman fashion, he'd repeat a funny line, a line that got a reaction from the crowd. He'd keep repeating it to the point of being annoying. But then he'd KEEP repeating it until it was funny again. He's good. He's real good.

So there you have it. Two Major Milestones attained while on vacation. It was a great trip. And here are just a *few* more photos...

Lesson Learned:
No matter how you spend it, vacation is good for the soul.

a new baby!

2011-07-06T14:35:00.000-04:00

I'm pregnant! Yippee!!

But don't worry. This isn't going to turn into a Pregnancy Blog where I detail my experiences with morning sickness, insomnia, lower back discomfort, or Braxton Hicks contractions. I will, I'm sure, at some point after the birth of the baby, post in excruciating detail the Birth Story, but only because that's the best part of pregnancy--Having The Baby. And I promise to give a warning header in case you're squeamish about words like: dilation, effacement, or mucous plug. Oops. Sorry. Still with me?

Actually, speaking of which.....a woman at the fourth of July parade told me, completely unaware that I'm pregnant, that she saw "The Most Disgusting Thing" at the gym....a woman...."get this"....nine months pregnant, swimming, IN A BIKINI. I just sort of looked at her, thinking back to my own trip to the beach, 7 months pregnant with Max, sunning my big, old, bare pregnant belly. And THEN, she said, "I mean, you're not supposed to be SWIMMING, with all the bacteria in a pool all up in your cervical area. You're not even supposed to take a bath when you're pregnant." I suppose I missed that memo from my OB. It was strange parade-small-talk with a complete stranger, to say the least.

ANYWAY....
So we're having another baby! And that baby is scheduled to arrive in February....which means that I just may have to start correctly pronouncing the name of this month....I'm a Feb-U-ary girl, I find Feb-RU-ary to be a bit cumbersome. For what it's worth, Feb-U-ary is a commonly accepted pronunciation in most dictionaries, so we'll see.

Evan is so excited....he's already kissing my belly and putting on his fake pout while saying, "I just wish the baby was here so I could be a big brother again." Not that things aren't cool with Max....but now that Max is Big, he has his own ideas and opinions and styles of play....and isn't always a willing participant in Evan's scenarios. But babies? They just lie there and smile and coo, right? Ooooohhhh, selective memories.

Max is excited, too, but more in the Everyone Else is Excited, So I'll Be Excited, Too sense. But he'll occasionally lift up his shirt and say in the sweetest little sing-song voice, "Baaaay-Beeeee!" So I think he's getting it. Maybe?

And now for the answers to some frequently asked questions:
Yup, I feel sick.

Yes, we're finding out if it's a boy or a girl. If you have to ask, you really don't know me.

And as for out-of-the-starting-gate gender predictions: Evan says Girl, Sam says Boy, Max says Baby, and I say, "Man, this pregnancy is SO DIFFERENT from my pregnancies with the boys, soooooooo....." But that's EXACTLY what I said when I was pregnant with Max, so I'm no help.

Yes, we'll share names once we have selected them.

Yes, I'm already "showing." Although that may be, in part, due to the fact that I am embracing and indulging my cravings, which seem to be sweets, carbs, and huge, heaping helpings of The Good Kind of Macaroni and Cheese. I've craved this during each of my pregnancies. Or maybe I just always crave it, but during pregnancy I can justify going out specifically to purchase some frozen Stouffers or the homemade kind from a local grocery store. I actually just whipped up my own homemade three-cheese version and may have found a winner...

And finally, no, we aren't "hoping for a girl"after two boys. We're hoping for a happy, healthy baby. And even if our baby is cranky or has some health concerns, we're just excited to meet him or her. And we're looking forward to expanding our family and watching the dynamics in our family change for the better with this new addition.

Lesson Learned:
I love love love love being pregnant. I'm going to soak up these next 33 weeks and try to commit each little moment, craving, twinge, flutter, all of it to long term memory. Just like I did with my first two....because there's nothing in the world that can compare to pregnancy. Nothing. I'm grateful that I am able to experience this again, for the third time. And I don't want to take a bit of it for granted.

more summer science fun...

2011-07-05T20:28:00.000-04:00

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: If you're not reading The Artful Parent, you should be. I found out about this gem from the comments on one of her posts. EVEN THE COMMENTS ARE WORTH READING. I'd seen this experiment on Mr. Wizard, I think, in the 80s. I tried it, I'm sure, but then promptly forgot about just how cool it is. Thank goodness for blog-memory-joggers.

It takes no time at all to set up, uses materials you already have at home, and perfectly illustrates the very difficult-to-imagine scientific concept of change in matter.

So find an empty, plastic bottle, a balloon, and two large bowls. Place the balloon over the opening of the bottle. Fill one of the large bowls with warm water and the other with ice water. Put the bottle in the hot water...

...and watch the balloon inflate! (The science is that, when air is heated...it takes up more space.)

Then place the bottle in the ice water and watch the balloon return to it's deflated state.

Repeat!

Annnnnnnndddd.....REPEAT AGAIN!

And....again? Yup. This kid was happily occupied for more than 15 minutes. Which is about 5x longer than the activity took to set up. So....yes....a very successful spur-of-the-moment science lesson.

Max spent the majority of those 15 minutes stealing and eating ice cubes out of the cold bowl.

Lesson Learned:

I need to find a science experiments-for-kids book at our library. Too bad I can't find Mr. Wizard on syndication. Do you guys remember the one where he peeled a banana and revealed that it was already, MAGICALLY, sliced into rounds? When he explained the "magic," he showed how he took a threaded-needle and put it through the banana...with the thread still through the fruit, he wriggled it back and forth until the fruit was sliced through but the peel just had one little pin prick on either side of the fruit...he repeated this eight or so more times down the length of the banana until it was completely sliced....

Anyway....doing this balloon-bottle experiment reminded me of the banana trick and I TOTALLY want to surprise the kids with it one morning.

make-your-own marble run

2011-06-29T21:13:00.000-04:00

I was the kind of kid that didn't ever really ask for any toys or games or anything. It was always a challenge for me to come up with a Christmas or birthday list. Still is, actually. Just ask Sam. There were, however, three things that I *distinctly* remember wanting more than anything else in the Toys-R-Us catalog....one was a wooden train set. Another was, inexplicably, a stupid plastic dog that you could bring in the tub with you. His fabric ears would get wet and you could push a lever on his collar to make him shake his ears, "just like a real doggie!" His name was Rub-a-Dub Doggie and I so appreciate my parents reluctance-yet-ultimate-willingness to buy me such a dumb toy now that I have kids of my own who want dumb toys.

But perhaps my favorite Wish List Toy of all....was a Marble Run. It was made of plastic and came in pieces, so you could build a Brand New Run each and every time you played. My mazes were full of twists and turns and hills and jumps and loop-the-loops and other Very Exciting Components. Seriously, you guys, you do not understand the depth of my nerdiness.

And now I have kids to share in my nerdiness!

After spending two hours in a tiny doctor's office this morning, Evan was in no condition to sit quietly and watch a show during Quiet Time. But, after sitting for two hours in a tiny doctor's office, I was in no condition to play Tool Men or Construction Guys or Cars. Sooooooooo.....I pulled out some paper towel rolls and boxes I'd been saving for "Projects" and it just hit me.

We made our own Marble Run!

We started at the bottom (an oatmeal container that we taped to the wall and that acted as the Marble Catcher) and worked our way up. In addition to paper towel rolls and boxes (that we opened up the ends of), we also used construction paper to make V-shaped tracks and funnels.

We taped each piece to the wall with painter's tape so we could leave it up for a few days without damaging the wall. We also tested the run after placing each piece to ensure that it would "work." For older kids, I would recommend making the entire run before sending a marble down. An older child can anticipate the motion of the marble and visualize distances and angles better. The lesson would be in the outcome of the prediction, as opposed to the process of learning the physics of the activity.

For Evan, who is 4, we would place a piece, send a marble down, and if it didn't connect to the next piece, we would change it right then. It was a good practice in laws of motion, but also in spatial awareness. There were several times that I could see him trying to get the track to fit the way he was envisioning it, but either the space constraints of our Marble Run Location wouldn't allow it or the marble failed to stay on the course. It was great to watch him repositioning the pieces until they were successful, but also to redesign the track in his mind as he found which designs worked and what didn't.

When at last the run was finished, it was time to play. There were two starting points: The Mommy Lift Me Up Start and the I'll Do It Myself Start.

We used magnetic marbles (only because, somehow, we don't have any other kind), which ended up being kind of cool. The run was successful when marbles went down one at a time or in pairs. Three, as is often the case, was a crowd. They didn't end up in the Catcher.

Max, who slept through the construction phase, got into it after his nap. It was a good thing he slept for so long, though, because Evan played with this thing for almost two hours straight...and then again before dinner.

Lesson Learned:

At one point, it was the Marvelous Fruit Machine. You put in an ingredient at the top and a Marvelous Piece Of Fruit comes out. Anyone care for a white zucchini? An orange lemon? A purple strawberry with polka dots? Then, it was a Grinder. You put in branches and out comes mulch. But wait! If you take it from here, it turns back to branches! It was a factory. It was a map. It was a Secret Ingredient Mixer Machine. It was science. It was pretend play. It was TWO HOURS OF ENGAGED, UNPLUGGED, SELF-DIRECTED PLAY. And we'll DEFINITELY be keeping it up for awhile, taking it down and reconfiguring it to our hearts' content this summer.

And next Christmas? You know what I'm putting on somebody's Wish List.

food allergies are SO last year

2011-06-29T15:30:00.000-04:00

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Evan's allergist? It's a lot.

We saw him a few weeks ago for our every-couple-of-months check-up and he said that it was time to reevaluate these food allergies of Evan's. AND....while we were at it, why don't we just go ahead and test Max to see if we're unnecessarily avoiding anything (we are currently avoiding peanuts, treenuts, fish, and shellfish).

So today was the big day. They each received 20 pricks (peanut, cashew, hazelnut, almond, brazil nut, walnut, pistachio, pecan, sesame seed (because it's quickly becoming the ninth most highly allergenic food), crab, shrimp, salmon, tuna, and....hmmmm....I guess some other fish and shellfish. It was hard to keep track.). Evan then also received pricks for milk, egg, cantaloupe, and barley....milk and eggs because he still refuses to eat either in the raw form and his challenge "pass" to milk was questionable (read about it here, and here)...and barley and cantaloupe because he's always tested positive to them and has reacted to them either through rashes or eczema flairs.

They did great. They were such brave little patients during the test (lollipops helped) and such patient little patients during the two-hour long appointment (the iPhone helped).

But that's not the best part.

The best part is:
Both boys tested NEGATIVE to EVERYTHING (almost. Evan still tests positive to milk, but that's neither here nor there. We've seen him drink four ounces of milk with no reaction other than vomiting, so the fear factor of anaphylaxis following accidental ingestion is gone.). Max is allergy-free....well, almost. We still need to avoid penicillins, but I'm pretty sure no kid on the playground is ever going to offer up a taste of some antibiotics.

We're not going to go celebrate with a dinner of pecan-crusted tilapia just yet....we'll need to get Evan a RAST test (a blood draw that will indicate his immunocap numbers...numbers that predict actual allergies, not just the likelihood of a reaction, like a skin test predicts). But a negative skin test is 95% accurate, so we're quite optimistic that these pesky old food allergies are rapidly becoming a part of our past.

Evan might never drink a glass of milk or eat a bowl of ice cream. I don't care, and neither does he. I can now very confidently imagine him going off to kindergarten without me worrying about what the kid sitting next to him in the cafeteria packed for lunch.

Now to find something else to worry about....like, maybe that kid sitting next to him will teach him bad words...or inappropriate jokes...or...[gulp]...be a Sarah Palin supporter. I'M KIDDING!

(not really.)

Lesson Learned:
The most interesting thing about today's test, was watching both boys develop Huge reactions to prick number 68. By the time the nurse came in to do the reading, they each had a large wheal and a rapidly spreading red splotchy area on the exact same spot on their backs. I quickly said, "What was number 68? I'm dying to know!!" The nurse kind of laughed and said that number 68 was the control prick...a prick that measures their own level of histamine. She said that both boys had extremely highly sensitive histamine levels and both have dermagraphic skin, skin that hyper-responds to physical stimulation, like a scratch or, in this case, a prick. She further demonstrated the point when she took a moistened cotton ball to wipe Max's skin clean....everywhere she wiped turned into a red streak.

Oh, my two little sensitive boys. Who can eat just about anything they want.

time flies....

2011-06-25T21:27:00.002-04:00

Tonight was Movie Night at our house. It was a cozy, snuggly event in which I was able to introduce Evan and Max to one of my Disney favorites, Beauty and the Beast. Well, Max caught the first 20 minutes or so.

But, while I was watching, I was trying desperately to distract myself from singing along to every single song, and thus, ruining the movie for the rest of the viewers. And so I got to thinking...

I was thinking back to a year ago...when, on this very night, we were preparing ourselves, mentally and physically, for what was to be Operation: Potty Training. You can relive those memories with me here, here, here, and here. I had heard that Potty Training is Hard, so we were prepared. And yet, while I had braced myself for the worst, it was relatively painless. Easy, even.

But the memories didn't stop there. Because, in addition to the words to every song, I can also recite just about every line of dialogue. I really like Movie Night, and I don't want my family to stop inviting me to the couch.

And so, I thought back to this night seven years ago. A few hours from now, I'd be laying awake in bed, in the spare room of my sister and brother-in-law's house. Wide awake, but knowing I should sleep; wide awake listening to the rain pouring down and wondering what the hell we were going to do about our wedding that was supposed to be held IN A GARDEN the VERY next day.

The next morning, my father-in-law-to-be and various members of my husband-to-be's bridal party headed over to the garden to survey the damage. It was a total swamp. So....they brought out their shop-vacs. I'm not making this up. They, literally, tried to vacuum up the swamp in time for my mid-afternoon nuptuals. It didn't work.

As it turned out, our location had a lovely built-in contingency plan--a room off of our reception room that looked like a giant, lush, living room. (I hadn't paid attention to such details in the planning phases.) We were married, indoors, in a ceremony that was, at once, very personal, very meaningful, and to the delight of our guests, quite short. But the party that followed wasn't. We celebrated into the evening at the reception with 150 of our favorite people, into the night back at the after-party with our very closest family and friends....

...and throughout the next seven years....and counting.

Lesson Learned:

I've heard it said that, like potty training, Marriage is Hard. But, I've come to realize, in the last seven years, that if you marry the right person, at the right time, and for the right reasons, Marriage isn't hard. It's relatively painless. Easy, even.

So, Happy Anniversary, babe. And thanks for making it easy....even when I'm the one making it hard. And for always inviting me to Movie Night, even when I can't promise that I won't sing along.

who have I become?

2011-06-23T15:19:00.000-04:00

I changed, fundamentally, when I became a mother. Of course I did. Nothing can alter your priorities and change the way you live in and interact with the world like having a piece of you walking around in it. I became, at once, more sensitive, more compassionate, more patient (and have had that patience tested ever since), more protective, and more anxious. I've also become more eco-conscious and more liberal as I think about what I want the world that my kids grow up in to look like.

But nothing could have prepared me for this....because despite it's popularity where I now live, I never thought it would be a part of my life.

But, as a mother, you change because of your child and you change FOR your child. And despite my better judgement, I am embracing it because it is a love of his. I had no choice but to suggest it as a morning activity. Because I knew it would make him happy. And that, in turn, would make me happy.

Today, in my very own living room....we played a game I NEVER thought I'd play....we played....[gulp]....NASCAR.

After carefully setting up the Announcer's Booth, and lining up the race cars at the starting line...

...and putting Max in charge of the "pectators"....

The race began.

Complete with Announcer's Commentary, like, "And Lightning McQueen is pulling ahead in Turn One," and "I don't believe it, folks! Jeff Gorvette is spinning out in the infield!"

...and even a pit stop with a real pit crew...

....until, shockingly, Jeff Gorvette pulled ahead in a surprise photo-finish victory.

What's next? A buck head over the fireplace? I'm KIDDING! I know not all Nascar fans are hunters. But seriously, there will never EVER be a dead animal's head in my house. We're into "Nascar" only because of the Cars movie, and it's highly anticipated sequel. There will be no hunters in this house. And just to make sure, we'll watch Bambi ad nauseam.

Lesson Learned:
Never say never. Well, unless you're talking about killing Bambi. Eewwww.

live, laugh, and learn

first week

the dragon lady has arrived

I take it back: it wasn't THAT bad.

preschool diaries: valentines

I'm no detective, but...

fun with selling a house!

the final countdown

the wild thing learns his letters

Product Review: American Innovative Teach Me Time Alarm Clock

dragon lady

DO something

food allergy tragedy

twenty twelve

animal guesses

post-christmas

the adventures of bear ticklish: the final chapter 2011

maxwell

north african curry

movin' right along

decking the halls

the adventures of Bear Ticklish: part 2

the Grinch

the adventures of Bear Ticklish: part 1

Max's Blue Period

more fun with painter's tape

make-your-own felt Christmas tree

thanks, and...the return of Bear Ticklish

motivation

rainy morning hopscotch

preschool diaries: bribery works...and....the admirer

magical mousse

brothers that play together

halloween, and, 'peech therapy

preschool diaries: let the bribery begin!

he draws

REPOST: a new vocabulary

tell me lies...

it's a girl. YIKES!

Happy Birthday, Maxwell!

a Mickey Mouse birthday party!

it's a girl!

we did it!

best friends

AIRPLANE!

mind your manners

make-your-own rice table

independence

more fishing fun

preschool diaries: welcome to the oaks

preschool diaries: here we go again. Gulp.

allergy set-back

survival guide

and then there were two. JUST TWO!!!

conquering fears

gratitude

all you need is *more* love

give the baby what the baby wants

walking water

hummingbirds

don't judge

harvest time!

beach boys

a new baby!

more summer science fun...

make-your-own marble run

food allergies are SO last year

time flies....

who have I become?

all you need is more love