Summertime fun

I have a confession. I LOVE summer. Pretty funny when you consider that I was a bit worried about the summer and filling the long days. Turns out, they seem to fill themselves.

We started off our summer with a great weekend at the beach for Memorial Day:

That next week we had some playdates, met my friend's new baby, went to the park and the gym and went to the circus:

The following week, we had Abby's dance recital and she did awesome. We also had Alex's unfortunate hospital stay. That weekend we stayed close to home but we did get to meet Dora and Elmo at the toy store:

The next week we got to see my best friend who was in town. We also went raspberry picking and went to the children's museum. For father's day, we spent the day at the pool:

Big A was in an art camp in the afternoons of the following week, and she loved it. We kept very busy before and after camp with storytimes, playdates and park time. On the last day of camp, Big A presented her art in an "art show":

Next up was my little brother's wedding festivities. The girls were invited to the rehearsal dinner and had fun dressing up like princesses:

We rounded out the month with a get together with my best college friends and their kiddos and some fun park playdates. I could totally get used to this life...which probably means I'll be heading back to work any week now. But for now, bring on the summer!

Who's your daddy?

Okay, I'll admit it. I was smug. When other moms complained about taking 2 kids to the grocery store and what a nightmare it was, I just laughed but inside thought "Eh, its really not that hard." When they talked about how they went at night or on the weekend to avoid having to schlep along the kids, I shrugged. Not me, I don't mind it at all.

Ha.

Because we were busy all weekend and our cupboards are bare, I took both girls to the grocery store today. First, they didn't want to go. I promised them a special treat. I didn't actually have a special treat, but they didn't have to know that. We got in the store and there was a display of watermelons. "Should we get one?" I asked. "Yes!" Then Big A said, "Mommy, is that our special treat?" Perfect. "Why yes it is, ta-da a watermelon!" She looked at me warily. "That's not a special treat mom. A treat is a surprise." Oh.

I rummaged through my purse and found a Hershey's bar that had been the favor at my brother's rehearsal dinner. I quickly had an inner argument with myself. Should I give it to them and risk the sugar effect? But if I don't, they might whine more...I decided to give them each a small piece. They were very happy. My smugness returned as we wheeled over to the deli with each girl sucking happily on a piece of chocolate. Things were going quite well as the deli man gave them each some cheese. We walked over to the produce when Big A asked if she could have more cheese. Nope, not till we get home. "It's not FAIR" she yelled. "No more whining, Big A," I said. "If you keep it up, you'll have to take a nap today."

Uh oh. Not the N word. "I don't WANT a nap," she screamed. I got my first look from another customer. Look, I'm just going to say it. I know you want to stare/throw a dirty look when you hear a mom talking to her child in a frustrated manner in a store. But, really? It's not helpful. It's annoying. You don't have a kid with you, so please enjoy your peace and leave me alone. Thanks.

"One more chance, Big A," I said. It was only one aisle over that she threw out another snotty comment. "Okay, you're taking a nap when we get home," I declared feeling proud of actually following through. "I.DON'T.WANT.A.NAP," she yelled.

Then she unleashed it. The high-pitched, angry cat-like scream. The one that she normally reserves for her bedroom. I got several more looks. I was torn between abandoning my cart and dragging her out of the store or trying to ignore her. I glanced at my half-full cart and the thought of having to pick out those items again enticed me to choose ignore. So we spent the next two aisles with her crying loudly about not wanting a nap. More looks. Look people, what would you have me do here? Smack her? Muzzle her? Stick her up in the chip aisle? I'm open to suggestions, but stares just don't help.

Ignoring her finally worked and she stopped crying. We were nearing the edge of our mission. I was choosing some cheese when Little A suddenly pointed at the man stocking cheese and said loudly "That Daddy" pointing to him. I ignored her, but again, "That Daddy!" "No sweetie, that's not daddy, ha ha." Cheese man did not even look up, lest I run up to him with a Maury-cam screaming "You ARE the baby's daddy. You owe back child support bastard!"

As I wheeled my cart to the checkout line (where we would have a nice long discussion with the checkers who would offer to switch places with Big A so that they could nap while she bagged groceries), I once again had to eat my words as a parent. You know what? You just don't know until you know. And now I know - taking 2 kids to the grocery store is a nightmare.

Crazy

I think any person who stays home with kids is a little crazy. Don't try to deny it, you know its true. Actually, I may amend this to any person that has kids, because I think I was a little crazy even before I stayed home. Now I'm just more crazy.

The other day I was driving home from somewhere with the girls in the backseat talking to J on my cell. As I talked, the girls started shouting things from the backseat. Things like "More drink, mom" and "Mom, I'm hungry. Where's my snack?"

"I feel like I'm their bitch," I whispered lest they hear me and start calling me 'bitch' in a sing-song voice. "All day long, constant demands." J laughed and we hung up. But its true. I pretty much am just here to serve these pint-size bosses. And they are literally asking me for something ALL. THE. TIME. Little A actually stands next to me when I pour her juice and demands "Apple. No water in it." No, I'm not joking.

There are so many examples of crazy from my daily life. A littler earlier today, I was using the bathroom with the door open of course and of course, since I can NEVER pee in peace, Big A came in holding her princess vitamins and asked me to open them. In mid-stream. Really? I politely asked her if she could somehow nutritionally survive for the approximate 30 seconds it would take for me to finish up? Okay, she agreed, fine. Gee, thanks.

Then there's the crazy that comes from being silly enough to leave Little A in the dining room alone for 23 seconds. In case you're wondering, that's just enough time to dump a half cup of Mexican rice all over the dining room floor. So that 23 seconds bought me exactly 6 minutes of sweeping up sticky rice and probably 60 days of finding rice on my feet anytime I walk into the dining room.

The other day we were at the bookstore and I was feeling like I was 'up to here' with the girls. Just then we passed another mom who really was up to there. In fact, she was so up to there that she felt the need to yell it loudly at her kids. I smiled in sympathy and felt a lot better. Better her be crazy than me.

And finally there is the ultimate crazy. The crazy that makes you put the crazy-inducing rugrats to bed at night and breathe a sigh of relief that you've survived another day. And then 10 minutes later be thinking about how cute those little buggers are. Now that's crazy.

It happens naturally

Little A has a new habit. She likes to throw things in the trash can. Not trash, mind you, but things we actually use. Like forks. Toys. And her bottles. So we suddenly found ourselves with only one bottle to our name. Little A LOVES her bottle. She gets three each day - morning, naptime and bedtime. So with only one bottle, I've been handwashing it all day. We went to Target today and I intended to pick up another bottle. But then I decided that didn't make sense, since our pediatrician recommended cutting out the bottle by age 2. And if she keeps throwing them away - well, maybe she is trying to tell me something. So we bought a couple of special bottle-like sippy cups and today at naptime, we tried one out. She didn't blink an eye, just took it and drank it up like normal. Could it really be that easy? Where were the screams, the tantrums, the protests?

Huh.

I've been realizing that kids really do meet milestones at the their own pace. Like the way Big A gave up sucking her thumb on her 4th birthday. Before that, no matter what we said, she still sucked. And then there's teddy. Teddy has been with Big A since she was a few months old. She was SO attached to teddy. He was her constant companion when sleeping. In the last few weeks, she hasn't been asking for teddy. Without our even noticing, she gave up her most prized possession.

Huh.

It happened that way with potty training too. We tried and tried for months to get her to go potty and then suddenly one day, it just clicked and she was instantly potty-trained. It makes me realize that this parenting thing doesn't always have to be so hard. Our kids are not going to go off to college wearing diapers, sucking on bottles and clinging to a pink teddy. They are going to grow up as they are ready, and its our job to guide them there, but not push them. To let it happen naturally.

Happy dad's day!

Happy father's day to all the great dads out there, especially my own daddy-o and my husband J. I was very lucky to grow up with an amazing dad. Always there to talk to us, to wait for us to come home at night, to figure out how to do anything, to play board games, to tend to us when we were sick and to worry about us always.

J was not blessed with such a great dad. So it amazes me even more what an incredible father he has turned out to be. My girls are so lucky to have J as a dad. He genuinely loves them and loves being around them. He is "fun dad" - he will do anything for a laugh. When he leaves for work in the morning, he will lay down on the floor and push just his head into the room we're in - then wait as long as it takes for the the girls to notice him and laugh. He riles them up 5 minutes before bedtime - but its okay because their giggles are real and sweet. He throws them up in the air - making me nervous - but making them giddy. He bribes Big A to play catch with him and teaches Little A how to play basketball. He reads to them. He watches Dora. He plays dollhouse WAY better than I ever could. He brings them to watch softball games and plays with them on the playground like a big kid. He pretends to be a monster and runs in circles around the house chasing them.

I also think of all of the things he will do for them in the future. Like coach the sports teams they have no choice but to join. Help them with their homework and projects. Teach them how to drive (thank goodness, I kinda stink). Intimidate any potential boyfriends. Tell them they look beautiful in their prom dresses. Attend college frat parties with them. Walk them down the aisle at their weddings (sob).

But for now, we'll just enjoy the present. Breakfast on the couch (with shells in the eggs). A day spent at the pool. Homemade meatloaf (wish me luck). And lots of giggles and monster noises.

Happy Dad's Day!

Gotta have faith

J and I are an interfaith couple. I'm Jewish and he's well...not. In actuality, neither of us makes religion a big part of our lives these days, but we both think its important to give the girls a religious foundation. The problem? We're kind of lazy.

I felt more strongly about raising the girls Jewish, and he agreed to let me do this. And now I feel pressure to actually do something about it.

We had Jewish baby naming ceremonies for both girls, but that is about all they have experienced in the Jewish faith. I have put off joining a synagogue because well...it costs money. And its just not been a priority in the past few years.

Tonight as I was putting Big A to bed, I told her that we were going to go to services tomorrow night to see my brother and his fiance receive a blessing. She had NO CLUE what I was talking about. I tried to explain to her that she was Jewish. "Jewish? What's that mean?" I did not know how to answer that.

"Are all girls Jewish mommy? And boys don't go poopy?" Huh? With that, she dissolved into giggles. "Is my name 'Jewish'?" she then asked. I truly was at a loss on how to continue this discussion.

"So you know how you sometimes go to chapel at school?" I asked (she attends preschool at a church). "Its like that but its for Jewish people." She still had no clue what I was saying, but was happy to steer the conversation back to poopy. I gave in and we laughed a little.

I'm hoping tomorrow night gives me a better jumping off point for this conversation. I need to pick up a copy of "Being a Jewish Parent for Dummies" if it exists.

The hard part to me is how to make something that's really not a big part of my life (but is a big part of who I am if that makes sense) into something that's a part of her life. I'm thinking Sunday school might be able to do the job better than me. Part of me wouldn't mind taking the lazy approach of continuing with the status quo of not doing much of anything to do with religion...but then I think that its not really fair to not give the girls a religious foundation, like I got. They are free to make their own decisions later in life of course, but they should at least get the benefit of a jumping off point.

Wish me luck as I figure out how to tell Big A that being Jewish doesn't have anything to do with poopy. And also? Wish me luck that she doesn't take the opportunity to yell something about poopy during services tomorrow night.

Pickin'

Today was one of those days when I was really glad to be staying at home. Some friends and I went berry picking at a nearby farm. Big A was high on life today and had a blast. She made sure to show us every berry she picked and get our approval. Little A didn't pick any, but she did eat her share. She is still a bit clingy since her hospital stay, which I think is to be expected. After we picked our share, we played at the park there. When we got home, I got to play pick your own fruit with Big A in the basement. Thrilling!

Post-traumatic stress

I was really hoping not to have another post featuring one of my girls in a hospital gown. But life doesn't always go as planned.

The good news is that everything is fine. Getting to fine is another story.

When I woke up Thursday morning, I had no idea anything like this would happen. J got Little A up and put her in bed with me. I was being lazy and sleeping in since I was planning to go the gym in the morning and didn't need a shower beforehand. He took her downstairs while I brushed my teeth and I heard him saying, "Why can't you walk?" I immediately walked downstairs to find our active little girl unable to take any steps without falling to one side or backwards. She stumbled like a drunk and we looked at each other with real worry. After calling our pediatrician, we were instructed to head straight to the ER.

You can imagine the jumble of thoughts that were going on. As we drove there (she threw up on the way, which increased my worry), I wondered if this memory would be burned in my mind as the start of something awful. It was a terrifying thought. One that didn't go away no matter how hard I pushed it. When we got to the wonderful children's hospital up the road from us, they saw us right away. We showed them how she couldn't walk and they examined her, took urine and finally sent in a neurology specialist. The worst case scenarios flashed through my mind as he told us that he would like to admit us and do an MRI. Honestly, looking back I'm not sure how I held it together, but I did.

I was in denial as we were admitted and the nurse asked if we'd ever stayed overnight before. "Oh, we're not staying overnight," I said. "Well, I think you are," he answered. And we were. Our MRI was scheduled for early the next morning and it set in that this was not being taken lightly. As the day went on, Little A began to walk better and wasn't falling at all. This was a good sign, but they decided to do the MRI anyway just to rule anything out. As hard as it was to see my little girl go through this ordeal, it does give us peace of mind to know that 500 pictures of her (Einstein) brain later, she was declared fine. They said it was likely the after-effect of a virus or cold that can sometimes happen in toddlers. We were sent home with no restrictions.

I feel like we dodged a bullet. Somehow, we were one of the lucky ones. You hear stories all the time about a weird symptom like Little A had, and it being the sign of a rare and serious disease. To be told that it was nothing was like winning the biggest lottery of our life.

To be honest, I feel like I've already learned and taken to heart the lesson to appreciate your loved ones and not take health for granted. In spite of the daily grind, I feel like I remember this every day. In fact, more and more I'm starting to wonder if I'd been living under a rock for the first 30 years of my life, because wow, bad stuff happens a LOT in this world. Its unavoidable and scary and it sucks. I guess I was really blessed to have not seen a lot of that growing up. I can thank my parents for shielding me and letting me live a pretty worry-free life.

Now...well, being a parent seems to be about constant worry. As I followed Little A around the playground today, I thought how things can change forever in an instant. She could fall off a slide or trip on a rock or be snatched by a stranger. No matter how hard I try, I can't keep her safe forever. But dammit, I am going to try. Wouldn't you?

Remember that time?

Hey Big A - remember that time when you were 4 and you got mad at me for something or other and stomped up to your room? And I bragged on Facebook about how great it was that you could play on your own in your room? And then a little while later, you came downstairs with your new doll with her toes and feet painted blue and said you wanted them to be just like yours? And then I asked you if you'd made a mess with the nailpolish and you said no? And I said, "Are you sure? Just tell me now." And you still said no.

And then we went upstairs for bedtime and there on your beautiful Pottery Barn Kids rug that I saved for forever were 5 spots of bright blue nailpolish? And remember how you started crying before I said a word? And I tried to scrub it out to no avail? And I told you to get ready for bed and you couldn't watch a cartoon before bed as your punishment? And then you screamed "Calliou" hysterically while jumping on your bed for 20 minutes while Little A and I watched the show? And then cried some more. And then finally stopped when I came in to say goodnight. And then I said "I love you" and you said "I love you, too" and we were both kind of relieved that it was still true?

Oh yeah, that was tonight. Good times.

Just say no?

I've always had a difficult time saying no. I think it must come from being a middle child and a natural born people-pleaser. So its no surprise that my inability to say no extends to my mothering.

Pretty much anytime my kids ask for something, they get it. Not in a bratty, "give me it NOW" type of way (no way, man), but if we're at WaWa and Big A wants some gum, more than likely she gets it. Or if we're at the supermarket, I let them pick out fruit snacks or cereal.

I didn't think of this as a problem until recently when we were at Target. As I unloaded my cart, I realized that I had gone way overboard in picking things up for the kids. There were Dora and Princess placemats (when we don't even use placemats), Dora and Princess plastic bowls (we have more than enough bowls at home), yogurt with m&m's, pool toys and stickers. I made a comment to the checkout lady about the kids making my trip more expensive. She looked at me and said "Girl, you need to learn to say no."

Damn. Shouldn't the checkout lady WANT me to buy more crap from her store? She went on to tell me she had raised 8 kids and was well-versed in saying no. Well, I thought, that's why I'm only having 2 kids...so I can say yes. I shrugged it off.

Then last night we were at dinner with the girls. There was a display of (free) cookies at the checkout counter so I took the girls up to get one after dinner. Big A said she didn't like those type of cookies and wanted something else. "No," I said. But there was a display of fruit snacks and we both spied them at the same time. "I want those," she said. "Okay, go ask Daddy for a dollar." J looked at me in disbelief. Why was I letting them buy fruit snacks after we had just had dinner and there were free cookies? Who cared if she liked them or not?

This is when I realized that maybe I did have a problem. Maybe I do say yes too much.

Not coincidentally, lately I've been complaining about the fact that my kids (well, really Big A because Little A is too young) seem ungrateful. No matter how much we give them, its not enough. They want what they want when they want it.

And so I'm starting to put the pieces together. How can they not want instant gratification when they always get it? And how can they understand that they're lucky to have what they have, when that is all they know?

So I'm resolving to change. To say no more. To make a treat a treat. To teach my girls that they can't always have everything they want at the exact moment they want it. Its not the most fun lesson to teach. Let's face it, I like making my kids happy. They're pretty cute and convincing. And saying yes is easier. There's less whining. But the easy choice is not always the best, and the hard choice can make things easier in the long-term. I mean, right now it may be chewing gum and fruit snacks, but in a few years it will be pierced ears and designer shoes and whatever else is in fashion. And while of course my kids will not be deprived, I don't want them to expect everything. And frankly, I can't really afford it.

Wish me luck as I embark on this mission. I'm sure I will slip up from time to time. Even with saying no more, I'll probably still be a softie compared to many others. And I'm okay with that. As I'm learning myself, life doesn't always hand you everything. There will be hard times. With any luck, my kids won't have to experience going without for a long time. But I hope they will be grateful for that fact and not take it for granted.

I just knew...

My 6 months of state unemployment insurance ended this week, so it was time to head into the unemployment office to file for my federal extension. Going to the unemployment office with two kids is pretty much like a set-up for a joke, right? Going in with this attitude allowed me to pretty much laugh at the hilarity that ensued.

I arrived at 2:30 having woken Little A up from her nap - the office closes at 4 p.m. so I was hoping that it would be less busy in the afternoon. Ha! I took a number from the kiosk - 45. They were serving number 26 and from a few questions to my neighbors, many of them had been waiting for 2 or more hours...yikes. I contemplated leaving since it would be my luck to wait an hour and a half and then not be served. But I decided to take my chances.

I came woefully unprepared. I managed to find a notebook and some pens which kept the girls busy for about 30 seconds. Till Little A started using ME as a notebook. No more pen. I found two pieces of candy which took up another minute. Little A had grabbed a princess purse from the car and started emptying the contents. Of all the toys that we have in our house, do you want to guess what just happened to be in the purse? A pink plastic SYRINGE from her doctor set. Yes, folks, a syringe. I'm sure I looked like mother of the year. She also had a big plastic fake lipstick which she kept inexplicably pretending to put on her forearm. The guy behind me leaned over and asked if she thought it was deodorant. What the hell? What 1 year old uses deodorant?

Big A was getting antsy and started people-watching. A large woman came in and sat down. Big A came up to me and said in a normal speaking voice, "Mommy, why doesn't that woman fit in the chair?" I quickly shushed her and told her it wasn't nice to talk about people. Ahhh. Then she started imitating the man behind us (deodorant man), mimicking him talking on his cell phone and putting his head into his hands.

Finally after 1 hour and 15 minutes, our number was called. I went to the counter and luckily the process was pretty easy and I was able to sign the papers I needed in between yelling at the girls to stop hitting each other, running away, whining and pulling at me. I now have 20 more weeks of federal unemployment benefits.

I have to say that the unemployment office is a pretty humbling place. It doesn't matter who you are, you are in the same boat as every other person in there and no one is particularly happy to be there. But in the end, I'm very grateful that unemployment insurance exists and gives us what we need to get by in these tough times.

Hopefully something great comes along in the next 20 weeks. Until then, we are going to make the most of our summer. It may well be the last summer I have off work for a long while.