Sickness

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I hate being sick.

So last night, when I got a pain in my stomach that could only be a stomach bug, I tried to convince myself that the pain was just because I did crunches earlier in the day. Hey, I could have torn my stomach, right?

When I started sweating because I had a fever, I tried to convince myself that it was hot flashes.

When my son had a diaper change that smelled so foul we had to vacate the room and and still had to spray down the room with Febreez an hour later, I tried to convince myself that it was sour milk. Or too many graham crackers. Or man-butt.

When my husband rushed home from Guys Night Out and ran straight to the bathroom to throw up and do "other" things, I tried to convince myself that he was hung over.

When I spent two hours lying in bed moaning because everything hurt instead of sleeping, I tried to convince myself that it was because of the mile and a half run yesterday.

When my daughter came into my room and told me she had a "feber," I tried to convince myself that she just needed attention and pulled her into bed with me.

When my daughter sat up and vomited on my pillow last night at 2:30 in the morning?

Yeah, game over.

We're sick.

Disneyland Curse

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My kids love Disneyland. I love Disneyland. My husband grudgingly likes Disneyland.

We were lucky enough to be given annual passes as a Christmas present last year. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) We make it to Disneyland a few times a month and always have a blast. Since we have the passes, we can go as long as we want and then leave when we have to, no pressure. Naptime? Time to go. Accident? Time to go. My sweet children morphing into demons? Time to go.

However, the Disneyland Curse hits us before we even leave the house.

For those of you who don't know, the Disneyland Curse makes normal, loving parents change into panicked, stressed out dingbats.

Before we leave for Disneyland, my husband and I are typically running around for about an hour, packing the diaper bag, getting the kids/house/selves/animals ready. For whatever reason, we act like we are going on a month long expedition instead of ten miles down the road.

My husband and I rush around, saying things like: Should we bring food for us or just the kids? Do they need their jackets? Should we bring towels? Should we bring the stroller or make the kids walk? How many snacks are enough? Where's the sunscreen? We should hurry, we want to get there right when it opens so we can go on Peter Pan before there is a three day wait. Did you feed the dog? How many outfits do you think the kids need - 2 or 3?

Seriously. We lose our minds. It's asinine.

I started thinking about this on Saturday... we had spend the morning at Disneyland and were going to CA Adventure that night to see the World of Color show. (Side note - show was AWESOME. And yes, you need towels.) Going back to Disney after spending the morning there causes more panic than normal -- my husband and I are both stressed out and exhausted and my kids are normally so thrilled to go back they are literally bouncing off the walls.

I was rushing around, packing a blanket and towels, gathering milk cups and pjs, while my son toddled around after me, saying "Momma, Momma."

I'm ashamed to say that my response was normally "In a minute, Boyo, Momma's busy."

After I nearly tripped over him a third time, I said, "Bud, Momma needs you to go in the playroom so she can get us ready to go to Disneyland and see Goofy."

My son took his binky out of his mouth and glared at me. "NO FOOFY!" he shouted. "MOMMA! UP! PUH-LEAZ!"

I felt like the worst mother on the planet... I was so busy rushing around so my kids could have fun at Disneyland that I forgot to have fun with them at home. The Disneyland Curse struck again.

I scooped up my boyo and snuggled. It was nice to catch my breathe and put things in perspective. And after a few minutes, Boyo pushed away from me and smiled.

"No mowe Momma," he said. "Foofy!"

It's Finally Done

~

My daughter is potty trained.

Finally.

Thank God.

After 3 months of tears (mine), stubbornness (hers), bribes (mine), negotiations (hers), and a lot of accidents (hers), it's done.

She got up on Monday and told me, "I'm going to put my peepee in the potty now because I'm a big girl and I'm going to school tomorrow."

I enthusiastically told her that was great, but I didn't believe her. She had been getting better lately about the whole potty training situation and her fear of the potty had dissolved. However, I was still bribing her; I had bought all of the Disney Princess dolls (2 for $20! And we have TEN of them... you do the math) since that was the only bribe that worked, but she still had a few accidents a week.

She has not had an accident in over a week. She tells me or her teachers or another adult when she has to go use the bathroom. She cleans up after herself. I'm still in a state of shock.

My sister asked me what I did to get her potty trained. I considered making myself out like SuperMom. I considered bragging about how all you have to do is listen to your child and find the right button to push. Basically, I considered lying.

Instead, I told the truth. "I don't have a clue," I replied. "She just did it."

My sister thought that over and then nodded. "You know your daughter is smarter than you right?" she asked.

"I know," I sighed.

"Her teenage years are going to suck," she told me.

"I know," I sighed.

At least she'll be potty trained for them. I was beginning to doubt that she would be.

Breastfeeding

~

My daughter saw a mom breastfeeding her infant in the park today.

I'm not against breastfeeding - I'm all for it. Heck, I tried it... twice! It didn't work out for my daughter and me, but it was a pleasant experience for my son and me.

So I didn't think anything of it when my daughter came running over to me and said, "Momma, what is that lady doing?"

I replied, "She's feeding her baby. Let's give her some privacy, okay?"

Now, this woman was breastfeeding under a cover, so my daughter couldn't quite see what was going on. "How is she feeding her?" she asked me. "With a sippy cup?"

Oh, God, how I wish I had lied and said yes.

"No," I explained. "The mommy makes milk and she gives it to her baby."

"Where does it come from?"

"Um, from her chest," I said. It was starting to dawn on me that this might not be the best thing to explain to a three year old.

"Her boobies?"

"Yup. Hey, look, do you want to ride on the swing?" I asked desperately, trying to change the subject.

"No," my daughter said firmly. "Did you feed me with your boobies?"

"Yes," I said. "Are you sure you don't want to go on the swings?"

"Brother too?" asked my one track mind daughter.

"Yes," I replied, physically dragging her over to the swings.

"Can you feed me with your boobies now?"

"No," I told her as I shoved her into a swing.

"Okay," she said, letting the subject drop, much to my relief.

Or so I thought.

Later that day, we went for a walk around our neighborhood and saw our mailman, Jay. My daughter and son love Jay... so I didn't think anything of it when my Girlie ran right over to him.

"Jay, Jay, guess what?!?" she said excitedly. "Mommy fed me with her boobies!"

First Friends

I was lucky enough to get to witness my daughter make her first friend today.

This was the first time my daughter made a friend that I had not arranged for her; it happened at the first day of PreK. I know that the likelihood of them being friends next week, or a year from now, or fifteen years from now, is slim. But it was unbelievably sweet. And it helped ease my worried mother's heart.

I was up late last night, fretting about today. What if Girlie has an accident? What if she doesn't like it there? What if the teachers are mean to her? What if other kids are mean to her? What if she is mean to the other kids? Have I taught her how to handle everything that could happen tomorrow?

I know it is silly -- after all, she went to day care from the time she was eight weeks old until the time she was three. So why was I freaking out over two half days of PreK a week?

This just seems like a big step to me -- it's one more step she is taking away from me and into the world. And it worries me and makes me sad. I want her to be my little baby girl forever, but I also want her to be an independent, functioning member of society when she is an adult. So this is a situation where I can't win.

But this morning I got up, pasted a big smile on face, and enthusiastically told my daughter how great today was going to be.

She seemed a little hesitant; she told me she didn't want to go to her new school because too many people would be there. I told her if she went she could have "Old McDonald's Farm" for lunch. She decided to go.

And when we walked into the room, it was overwhelming. There were a bunch of kids and parents running around. There was a lot of noise and it seemed so chaotic. She hid behind my leg and told me she wanted to go home.

My heart broke a little as I told her no, she needed to stay and be a big girl.

My daughter is like me -- a little shy at first. She gets anxious in new situations when she doesn't know anyone. Once she gets comfortable, though, there is no shutting her up. So I knew she would be okay; it was just going to be hard at first.

She put her lunch box and backpack into her cubby and then hung back, watching everyone play. I didn't know what to do -- do I push her to join the other kids, or do I soothe and cuddle? Either one could have made the situation worse.

Thankfully, I didn't have to.

A little girl named "Mary" came over to my daughter and took her hand. "You're going to be my friend, okay?" she said.

When I left fifteen minutes later, the two of them had their heads together and were giggling over little girl secrets.

Thank you, to all the "Marys" out there, who are welcoming and kind without even thinking about it. And thank you to their parents, who taught them to be that way. The shy kids, like my daughter and I, are extremely grateful.

Sunshine

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I had a rotten day yesterday.

My car had less than 1% of a mm of brake pads left and a dying battery, was due for it's 30,000 mile inspection, and needed two new front tires. And when I called the dealership to make an appointment, they informed me that my car was also under a recall. And had been for three months. And no one had contacted me. I saw red.

As I was debating which organ I was going to sell to pay for all of these repairs, my day got worse: A family member hurt me deeply simply by being careless.

So there I was, at the dealership (since my car was still under warranty for the battery, and under recall, I had to take it there), with a three year old and a one year old.

My three year old is in the process of being potty trained.

My one year old is a dare devil monkey who I swear is trying to break his first bone before he turns two.

My mechanic had asked me if he could call my husband to explain things to him "man to man."

The rental car wasn't ready on time, which meant that I had to fight with two car seats to get them out of my car and drag them into the dealership waiting room, while keeping an eye on my two kids. (Oh, and I was wearing a skirt. I hope everyone enjoyed the show.)

I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, drinking cold, disgusting, "free" coffee, ignoring the glares of the other customers, while my son screamed to hear his voice echo and my daughter whined for Cinderella.

I was trying to decide whether I wanted to scream or cry when my daughter climbed up on my lap and kissed my cheek. "It's okay, Momma," she said. "Don't be mad. The sun will make you happy."

I looked at her, smiling at me so earnestly with her little blonde curls in complete disarray, and I burst out laughing. "You're my sunshine," I told her, hugging her tightly.

She shut her eyes, scrunched up her face, and laughed her great big, fake "Ho-ho-ho!" laugh. "I'm not the sun!" she explained. "I'm a girl!"

Talking

~
I woke up this morning with a sore throat.

When I started thinking about it - frantically wondering if I'm contagious, are my kids going to get sick, who gave me this virus/bug/cold/plague - I realized that I'm not sick; my throat hurts from talking so much.

Since I've been home with my kids all day, I'm probably talking twice as much as I did last year, when I was working.

The irony is that I was a teacher. So you would think I would have talked more last year than I would have this year.

But I wasn't that kind of teacher. I didn't lecture day in and day out. My students and I had thoughtful discussions... sure, some discussions were like pulling teeth, but mostly I said things like:

"Hmmmm... that is an interesting point. What do you think about what President Obama said last night, Susie? Oh, you didn't watch the news? How do you expect to do well in American Government if you don't know what is going on in the world?"

Or: "No, Jane, I'm pretty sure the Great Depression did not happen because the president was sad."

Or (my personal favorite): "Please clear everything off your desk for your test. Any last minute questions/comments/concerns/prayers/bribes?"

But this year, I'm talking twice as much, and I'm saying things like:

"No, we don't hit our sister/brother... Hey, I just said no hitting! That's very naughty! You give him/her a hug and say you're sorry."

Or: "I don't know why the dog next door is barking. Maybe because you screamed really loud and woke it up?"

Or: "Stop shrieking right now! I'm not raising a bunch of baboons!" (at this point, my children normally start giggling and making monkey noises.)

Or: "Do I have to count to three? One... Two..."

I think my throat is sore because I'm trying not to yell this year.

Fun Times

~

My top ten things I would rather do than go to unemployment court:

10. Clean up my dog's poop.
9. Clean up my kids' poop.
8. Exercise.
7. Get dental work done.
6. Kill the tarantula that wandered into my garage.
5. Diet.
4. Teach Kindergarten again.
3. Take a Statistics class again.
2. Chaperone a school dance.
1. Go through childbirth.

OW!

~
I think I sprained my thumb picking up my son.

My son is husky (to put it politely), but he is still a little guy and wants to be carried every where.

I went to go pick him up from his bed on Friday.

Pain immediately shot up my left hand and arm. And that was mild compared to the agony in my thumb.

So I sucked it up, went to Target, and bought a super cool thumb splint, like this one:

Yup, I look like a professional lady bowler. Awesome.

To be fair to my son, I don't actually know that it's sprained. I suppose that I should go to the doctor. But I didn't want to pay $25 for a copay, $100 for Urgent Care when my doctor sends me there for xrays, $250 for xrays, and then $150 for something like this :


Much cheaper to spend $15 at Target for the exact same thing and hope that I diagnosed myself correctly.

One Track Mind

~

My daughter is very determined to get her way.

Yesterday, she left part of her toy in the car. She decided that she needed it at 9:58 pm at night, an hour and 58 minutes past her bedtime.

Me: "No, you cannot have it right now. It's past bedtime."

Girlie: "But I need it."

Me: "No, you don't. You need to go to sleep."

Girlie: "I'll go to sleep after I get it. Doesn't that sound like a good plan?"

Me: "No, it doesn't sound like a good plan. It's dark outside. Mommy will go get your toy when it's light outside."

Girlie: "Okay, you can go get my toy when it's light outside."

....five hours later, at 2:58 in the morning...

Girlie: "Mommy, is it light outside yet?"

Me (groggily): "Huh?"

Girlie: "You said you would get my toy when it's light outside. Is it light outside yet?"

Me (after opening one eye to see my daughter's face an inch a way from mine): "NO! Go back to bed! Mommy's not getting your toy right now!"

Girlie: "I wanna hafta sleep with you."

Me (groaning): "Why?"

Girlie: "Because my bed's wet."

Me: "Why is your bed --never mind. Climb on in."

... three hours later at 5:53 in the morning...

Girlie: (bouncing on my stomach) "Get up Momma! It's light outside. You can go get my toy now!"

Me: "Umph! Baby Girl, Momma will go when there is an eight on the clock."

...five minutes later at 5:58 in the morning...

Girlie: "Momma! There is an 8 on the clock now!"


I have got to teach that child how to tell time.

I Do Now

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My kids' favorite word today is "Mom-MEE!" Not the cheerful, sweet "MOM-me" that makes me smile. No, today it's the whiny, bratty "mom-MEE!!" that sets my teeth on edge.

Their second favorite word today is "NO!"

Their third favorite word today is an ear piercing shriek.

Yup, it's one of those days.

For instance...

...did you know that my son is now tall enough to reach the water dispenser on the fridge?

I do now. On a positive note, my kitchen floor has been mopped.

Or did you know that my son now has the ability to open doors?

I do now. On a positive note, it will make giving him directions to get things out of his room easier.

Or did you know you can plug a toilet with a hairbrush, an Elmo bath doll, and a bottle of bubble bath?

I do now. And there is no positive note here, folks.

Or did you know that if you don't check your husband's pockets before you run a load of laundry, the pen he keeps in his shirt pocket will break in the wash and stain the inside of your washer and dryer (AND CLOTHES!) with black ink?

I do now. And my husband has some 'splaining to do.

Or did you know that librarians have powder to sop up urine when your almost potty trained three year old pees on the couch in the children's room?

I do now. And I don't think I can go back to that library.

Or did you know that when you strap your son into the cart seat at Walmart because he was throwing everything in the basket out, he can scream without stopping for an entire shopping trip?

I do now. And I also know that after five minutes, a Walmart Associate will come up to you and ask if you need any help in such a way that really means "Please shut your child up."

Or did you know that the moment you get in your son's face because he's screaming and say in a low, angry voice, "You WILL stop it right now or ELSE," the principal of your children's old school will be standing right there, with a slightly horrified look on her face?

I do now. And it was not my finest moment.

Or did you know that when you finally decide that you have had it and you cannot clean or parent any more, so you tell your kids that we are going to McDonald's for lunch because it is easy (and you don't really care about the lack of nutrition at this point), your children will suddenly morph into the best kids on the planet?

I do now. Now if McDonald's would put booze on their menu...

Politics and Elmo

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I love politics. It fascinates me -- the issues, the commentary and debate, the horse race.

Voting is my soapbox issue. When I was teaching American Government, I considered it my duty to educate my students as to why voting was important and encourage them to vote when they were of age.

For those of you who don't know this - the midterm election is in 2 months. According to our Founding Fathers, that means that you need to do 3 things:

1. Register to vote. You can do that here if you want.
2. Get educated about the issues and people running.
3. VOTE ON ELECTION DAY.

I've completed step one. I'm in the process of step two. And I'm eagerly awaiting step three.

I was watching the debate between Barbara Boxer (D) and Carly Fiorina (R) last night. Now, I do identify with a party but I haven't been too thrilled with their candidates lately. Nor have a been too thrilled with the other party's candidates either.

So I was watching the debate, frustrated and irritated, making snide comments while I colored with my kids. They were "watching" the debate too because I want them to learn from an early age that being involved in public life is good, voting is important, and paying attention to your elected officials is vital.

At one point during the debate, I turned to my husband and asked in disbelief: "This is RIDICULOUS! Who am I going to vote for in November?"

My son immediately piped up with, "ELMO!!!"

My daughter countered with, "No, not Elmo!! He's red. We need Abby Cadabby for powly-tickies!!"

Would Sesame Street or CNN host that debate? And who do you think would be a better moderator - Big Bird or Oscar?

Potty Training

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This is commentary on pooping and potty training. If that is too much information for you, please don't read it.

~

Potty training has been a trial for my daughter and I.

She's terrified to use the potty and I am hesitant to force the issue.

And then the oddest thing happened: my daughter pooped in the potty on Monday. And again on Tuesday. And again today.

Why is this odd? She refuses to pee on the toilet.

I am willing to bet that every kid except mine has no problem peeing on the toilet but dislikes pooping in it.

Trust her to be different.