Crazy Things My Girlie Says

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"When I grow into a boy, can I still wear dresses?"

"I don't want to get burned... do I?"

"I don't know how to color, I got short hands."

"I'm going to be the princess and Brother is going to be the monster. And then I'm going to save myself because I'm a strong, pendent girl!!"

(after I got my hair cut) "Don't worry, Momma, it will grow back."

"I don't want my hair cut, it will hurt me." (For those of you who don't know, my daughter only has a little cap of blonde hair.)

"Christmas is over!! Now it's time for Halloween!"

(Christmas night, as she's falling asleep) "When Santa comes back tonight, will you tell him I want a scooter?"

"Momma, I love you always!"

Why I'm Tired

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11:31 pm: I went to bed.

11:42 pm: Boyo had a terrible nightmare; he ran out of his room wailing and couldn't be comforted.

11:56 pm: I finally calm him down, but he refuses to go back into his bedroom. I let him climb into bed with my husband and I.

12:02 am: Just as I am starting to fall asleep again, I get whacked in the head with a binky and sit up to find my son demanding "Mow Mik!"

12:03 - 1:30 am: I won't detail all of it, but I spend the next hour and a half getting climbed all over, punched, kicked, snuggled, hair pulled, and ultimately shoved off the bed. Boyo won't go back to sleep.

1:32 am: I sit up, cuddle Boyo in my arms, and sing him a lullaby. There is a note of desperation in my voice. Or full fledged hysteria. I'm so tired, I can't tell.

2:09 am: Boyo finally falls asleep. He's sleeping sideways on our bed, and my husband and I have an inch and a half of bed to share. Whatever, I'll take it.

2:17 am: Just as I fall asleep, I hear my daughter screaming for me. The storm has scared her. And she's wet. I get her changed and pull her into bed with us, and she thinks this would be a great time to have a philosophical discussion. Hey, who's your favorite Disney Princess?

2:43: I finally get my daughter asleep. I have a 2 year old elbow in my ear, a three year old foot in my back, and my husband is snoring. Great. I ease myself out of bed and go to sleep in my son's room.

6:12 am: I wake up to find Girlie staring at me over the safety bar on the twin bed. "Momma?" she asks quizzically, "Why are you in Brother's bed? It's time to get up; it's light outside."

Round Two

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'"The time has come," the Walrus said... " (L. Carroll)

This is it. We're potty training the boy.

We were going to try the Three Day Potty Training Method. But several things convinced us that this might not be the best method for us:

1. I'm pregnant. And the amount of patience that I do have will not fill up a thimble.

2. The 3 Day Method calls for staying inside for two days with no TV. Well, you can go outside for an hour on day two and for two hours on Day 3. But still... Boyo starts to go crazy if we don't get him out of our house by 10 am every day. So 3 days, basically stuck inside, seems like a suicide mission.

3. He doesn't fit on toilet training potty seats. He's large and if we sit him on a toilet ring or a potty chair, he can't put his pee down; there's just not enough room. But he's still only two, so he doesn't fit on the adult toilet seat either without spreading his legs really wide.

4. He all ready gets it. He sees his sister use the toilet. He tells me when he is going potty or has to go potty. He runs to sit on the potty and then demands a sticker. So I don't see the need for a 3 day method.

So we started yesterday. When we are home, he wears underpants. (And they are so cute!) So far, we have had one accident and two successful potty trips. When we go out, he wears pull ups (which we call outside underwear). And he still wears a diaper to bed.

I say, "Tell Momma if you have to go potty," about once a minute. And he does. Sometimes we make it, sometimes we don't. When we go out, he looks at me and says "Potty" clear as day.

He still hasn't made it to a potty out of our house, but that will come with time. And he still hasn't gone number 2 in anything but his "Outside Underpants" but that will come too.

Our methods might not be what works for everyone, nor will some people agree with us. After all, we are breaking the cardinal rule: Once you start potty training, you can't go back to diapers/pull ups. You know what? I don't care.

I'm much more relaxed about this than I was with Girlie.

Rainbows and Circles

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I think a marriage works best if one person is able to go with the flow. You know what I mean - a person who doesn't get phased by changes in plans and can adapt easily, with a shrug of the shoulders when things don't go his way.

I wish I could say I was that person in my marriage.

I'm not.

I'm more of a takes-an-hour-to-get-over-the-slightest-disappointment type of person. My husband is the go with the flow person in our relationship. And sometimes, I really hate that. Yes, I appreciate it after the fact, but during whatever has me disappointed hearing him say, "Oh well. It'll be okay" really sets my teeth on edge.

This was never more apparent yesterday when my husband and I loaded the kids up in the car and went to the ReStore, Habitat for Humanity store in Garden Grove. I was so excited; I was like a giddy little school girl. Why was I so excited about going to a restore for your home needs?

See, we were going to look at kitchen counter tops. For those of you who don't know, our kitchen counter tops are H-I-D-E-O-U-S! White laminate. That stains. And is chipping. And I think are the original countertops from 1971. I HATE them. Actually, hate is not a strong enough word, but it will have to do.

Anyway, the kitchen counters have been on our to-do list for 5 years. And my husband is finally ready to take on this monumental task.

And the moment we walked into the store, my kids lost it. It had been raining forever (or six days), and they wanted to run. But we couldn't let them run in a home improvement store. So my husband scooped them up and loaded them back into the car. "We'll come back soon," he told me.

So there I was, sitting in the car, sulking. My visions of new countertops and me cooking on them were crumbling to dust when my daughter asked me if I was happy.

"No," I snapped. "I'm disappointed."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "We should find you a rainbow. That will make you happy. Or you should run around in circles. That always makes me happy."

I started laughing as I realized that my daughter is going to be a go with the flow type of person too.

Wonderful. I'm surrounded.

Wordless Wednesday

Someone REALLY wanted to take a bath...

A Letter to My Son on his 16th Birthday

Before my children were born, I decided to write letters to them that they could open on their birthdays. Since I figured they would not be able to read when they were born, I addressed the letters with instructions to be opened starting on their 13th birthday. I wrote a letter when I was pregnant, a letter on the day the baby was born, and I write a letter every year on their birthday. Today is my son's second birthday, so he gets to open this letter when he turns 16...

To My Darling Boy:

I'm not sure what I want to say to you today... My heart is overflowing with love, but my body is exhausted from chasing you around all day. Today you are sixteen, and I hope and pray that you are running me as ragged now as you did today, the day you turned 2. After all, life wouldn't be any fun if I didn't have you to keep me on my toes.

This past year has been joyful and exhausting, terrifying and exhilarating. I get teary eyed as I think of 16 year old you - you are on the cusp of manhood and I can't wait to meet the man you become. But at the same time, I weep when I think I am losing the sweet, sticky little boy who yells, "Mommy!" and comes running over to give me a hug whenever I enter a room.

You are a loving two year old, asking for my hand to hold, Mommy's "uppie" for a cuddle, or screaming "NO!" when you want to run, climb, or crawl when I want to carry you. I am going to miss your solid little body snuggled up next to me on the couch, your chubby little hand grasping mine, your giggles as I tickle your round belly, and your screams for "again, again!"

This coming year, your three year old year, is going to bring changes. You are going to go from the baby to the middle child. And two year old James is uncertain about that. Everyday you tell me, "No baby. MY mommy." I hope that 16 year old James is comfortable with being the middle child, and I hope you realize that you will always be my baby, my boyo, my sweetheart. You hold a special place in my heart, not for being second born, not for being a boy, but for being mine.

I am proud to know that you are becoming your own person, someone independent from me. I can only hope that, as you turn 16, your father and I have given you the right lessons to help you become a strong, independent, generous, sensitive man.

What are my hopes for 16 year old James? I hope you are smart enough not to out think your common sense; that you trust yourself to listen to your intuition. I hope that you are still that loving boy you were when you were two, but that you are not afraid to speak your own mind, regardless of what people may think of you. I know the teenage years are hard, and I know that being an independent thinker can make them harder. Don't be afraid to say no to your friends, and if they give you crap for it, they aren't your friends. I hope that you are not afraid to be an independent thinker, that you are brave enough to fight injustice in your life, to let your voice be heard, and to protect those who cannot do so for themselves.

And what advice do I have for you, my 16 year old boy? Just this, the same thing that I say daily to two year old Boyo: Be careful! And remember, being able to do something and thinking you can do something are two very different things. I'm not saying don't try; I'm telling you to try. Try with all your being to accomplish your goals, so that years later, when you look back, you will have no regrets and you can honestly say, "I gave it everything I had." Thinking you can do something is the beginning. It is the start of a goal; it requires hard work, effort, and time. Being able to do something is your reward for those things. I hope that we have raised you to not be afraid of working hard, giving a strong effort, and spending time trying to achieve your goals.

You are my baby, my sweet boy. (I don't care that you are sixteen now, you are still my baby.)
I love you so much, and I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.

Love,
Mom

Wordless Wednesday

Boyo was determined not to nap...

Mean Old Biddy

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This post was supposed to be a letter to my son for him when he was a teenager. HOWEVER, I am still stunned and amazed by something that happened to me today...

Boyo and I were at the post office. We stopped by right after his 2 year well child visit, where he had gotten a vaccine. So he was not in the best of moods. Added to that, there was a line. I should have turned around to leave. But I had a letter I had to send certified... so I got in line.

Boyo did not. He ran over to the corner of the post office, where the blinds were. And he proceeded to sit down and run his car in and out of the blinds. I made a half-hearted attempt to get him to come back to me, since it seemed like I should make my son stand with me if I want to win that Mom of the Year Award.

My son's response was a vigorous "NOOOOOOO!" at the top of his lungs.

I promptly apologized to the people in line, went over to my son, and gave him a stern talking to before I got back in line. I left him in the corner. He was five feet away from me and he was happy. I wasn't tempting fate again.

I finished my business, collected my son, and told him, since he had been mostly good, that he could run on the sidewalk. A woman (who had been in line when my son yelled no) walked by me and I smiled at her. She responded by sniffing at me, glared at my son, and mumbled under her breathe, "That is not acceptable. He is NOT CUTE."

I came to a standstill. Not cute? My son is freaking adorable. Yes, he had a snotty moment in the post office - he was a two year old in the post office. What were you expecting? For him to stand docilely by my side? He's two, not six.

Several responses flew threw my head. The first involved a lot of four letter words. The second involved an apology (even though it grated that I was going to offer one) - but when I opened my mouth to issue it, something else came out of my mouth, surprising both me and the mean old biddy:

"He's two," I said sweetly, with a smile on my face. "What's your excuse for being a stinker? You have a merry Christmas."

It was one of those perfect moments when I had the exact right thing to say at the exact right time. As I led my son to the car, I could hear her sputtering behind me.

I'll win Mother of the Year next year. I'm too tired this year.

Happy Second Birthday, Little Dude!

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Happy Birthday to my car-loving, Princess-Aurora-watching, gun-toting...


...why-walk-when-you-can-run?, why-stand-when-you-can-climb?...

... so-sweet-you-are-sticky, messy little boy!


I love you, Boyo!
Happy Birthday!

Surprise!

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I know that it's the day before my son's second birthday. I know I should have waited. But I was so excited about his present, I just couldn't. My husband and I agreed to let him have his present early.

He was not nearly as impressed as we thought he would be.

What did we ultimately decide to get him?

A little brother or sister.

Maybe he was upset because he has to wait until July to really get his present?