I'm not talking about candy. I'm referring to something I love even more than chocolate [hard to imagine, right?]. M & M time is Mommy and Maddie time.
When I signed Parker up for preschool last year, I assumed that his 3 hours away from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays would be filled with tea parties, make-up sessions, reading, and cuddle time with Maddie. Then I realized how incredibly easy it was to get things accomplished when there is only one child in my charge. Suddenly I could unload the dishwasher and start a load of laundry before lunch time. Imagine! When I found that she didn't complain about car rides and errands when it was just the two of us, the possibilities were endless...dry cleaners, grocery, library, oh my!
I got greedy. I started to fill all of "Maddie's" time with chores and errands, convincing myself we had quality conversations along the way. I read her extra books before nap time and bedtime to cover my guilt. The complaining began. It was inevitable, really. "I don't want to go to the store!" I had ruined it.
Well, Thursday was a crazy one. It was Parker's last day of preschool, and the 3 hour window just didn't seem long enough. I was running around trying to finish the small, movie-themed gift baskets I had made for his teachers. I had so many stops to make, I thought my head might explode. Maddie whined her complaints from the backseat as I drove like a madwoman all over town. I just wanted some silly movie tickets! The theaters weren't open yet, Walmart didn't carry them, Blockbuster had stopped selling gift cards temporarily due to a corporate takeover. AAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!
We stopped at Stonybrook theaters around 10:30. When I saw that they were closed, I decided to duck into the nearby Steak-n-Shake, so Maddie and I could take a potty break. Once inside, I reasoned we might as well stay until 11, to give the theatre a chance to open. Best. Decision. Ever.
I realized what I had been missing. This was real Mommy/Maddie time. We sat in a booth and just played. With nary a dish to wash, shirt to fold, or toy to put away, I turned off my phone and mental to-do list, and was able to focus completely on my little princess. We each ordered chocolate milk (a rare treat). She talked in her loud [read: oblivious to others], high-pitched voice, eliciting smiles from the other patrons. We shook the sugar packets like maracas, took turns wearing her hot pink feather boa, and had an impromptu tea party with the plastic dishes she had lugged in from the van. She danced to the 80's music, and hugged the candy machine, informing me it was her "best fwiend" after it dispensed some sweet treats. We chatted about nothing and sang silly songs. We didn't have a care in the world.
At 11, we were ready to go. The theatre still wasn't open. What might have seemed like a waste of time to a casual observer was actually the best 30 minutes I have spent with my baby in a long time. What a lesson I learned! I just hope I can remember it.
5/23/11
5/14/11
Clothing Wars
Why are my kids so opposed to clothing? Perhaps a more accurate question would be: Why are they so opposed to wearing clothing appropriately? I really don't understand. I have tried to explain that when worn properly, clothes offer protection from wind, rain, scratchy things, etc. It doesn't seem to matter. Parker will wear clothes during the day, but at night, he insists on being nude. When we have sitters, we make him wear pj's but allow him to forgo the underwear. I guess he overheard us calling it "going commando," because the other day he informed me he was "going komodo" to school. Um, no.
Maddie is a wild card. She vacillates between wearing multiple layers of mismatched clothes, wearing nothing, and refusing to wear bottoms of any sort. The other day I went into the house to make lunch, keeping an ear on the kids through the open window as they played on the swing set. When I exited the house minutes later, Maddie's pants and underwear were MIA. When asked where they were, she grinned and innocently replied, "I don't know." Yeah.
The worst part is that she is completely immodest [and oblivious to others]. We had dinner guests one night, and Maddie (who was previously clothed) bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen sans bottoms. She grinned up at everyone and ran in circles. If you combine her affinity for body art, preference to remain naked, refusal to brush her hair, love of spinning, and complete lack of coordination, she could be mistaken for a drunken, tattooed Tasmanian devil most days.
Oh well, at least I'm getting some great wedding slide show shots.
Maddie is a wild card. She vacillates between wearing multiple layers of mismatched clothes, wearing nothing, and refusing to wear bottoms of any sort. The other day I went into the house to make lunch, keeping an ear on the kids through the open window as they played on the swing set. When I exited the house minutes later, Maddie's pants and underwear were MIA. When asked where they were, she grinned and innocently replied, "I don't know." Yeah.
The worst part is that she is completely immodest [and oblivious to others]. We had dinner guests one night, and Maddie (who was previously clothed) bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen sans bottoms. She grinned up at everyone and ran in circles. If you combine her affinity for body art, preference to remain naked, refusal to brush her hair, love of spinning, and complete lack of coordination, she could be mistaken for a drunken, tattooed Tasmanian devil most days.
Oh well, at least I'm getting some great wedding slide show shots.
4/30/11
Today was Parker's fourth birthday. It is very late, and I am bone tired. Moments ago I was lying in bed, mentally reviewing the events of the day and all the people we saw. My heart was so filled with joy and gratitude, I felt compelled to write about it immediately.
The weather was beautiful. Clear and sunny. We met at the fire station, where incredibly friendly and accommodating firefighters talked about fire safety, allowed the kids to climb on the truck and to use the jaws of life on empty coke cans.
Then we caravanned to Grammy and PawPaw's house. Their home is always inviting, and their property, beautiful, but today it was spectacular. The huge lawn was freshly mowed, the playground, tilled. The pavilion was spotless. The food was amazing. I can only imagine all the work that went into to making everything "just so." During the party I was struck by how well the various groups of strangers intermingled so effortlessly and how nicely the children played.
Some people would say we are lucky. I know differently. We are blessed. Though he may not realize it at age four, Parker is extremely blessed. Today it was just especially obvious. He has lots of grandparents who bent over backward to give him thoughtful presents, to ensure his great-grandmother could spend time with him today, who helped supervise tons of small children, and who prepared a wonderful party for him. He has doting aunts and uncles who traveled to see him, called him from states away, who played with him, kept a watchful eye on him, and who pitched in and do whatever needed to be done to ensure things went smoothly. He has polite, thoughtful, fun friends who allowed him to have the first piece of cake, to be the first to play with his new toys, to play chase with him, fish with him, and to make his special day one he'll remember for years to come. He has amazing adults in his life who took time out of their busy schedules to attend his party, purchased gifts they knew he'd love, helped clean up, and seemed truly happy to be celebrating with him.
I am so grateful for all of these people. I am so grateful to the One who placed them in our lives. Most of all, today, I am grateful that four years ago, I was allowed to be part of a miracle. My life has never been the same. Thank God!
The weather was beautiful. Clear and sunny. We met at the fire station, where incredibly friendly and accommodating firefighters talked about fire safety, allowed the kids to climb on the truck and to use the jaws of life on empty coke cans.
Then we caravanned to Grammy and PawPaw's house. Their home is always inviting, and their property, beautiful, but today it was spectacular. The huge lawn was freshly mowed, the playground, tilled. The pavilion was spotless. The food was amazing. I can only imagine all the work that went into to making everything "just so." During the party I was struck by how well the various groups of strangers intermingled so effortlessly and how nicely the children played.
Some people would say we are lucky. I know differently. We are blessed. Though he may not realize it at age four, Parker is extremely blessed. Today it was just especially obvious. He has lots of grandparents who bent over backward to give him thoughtful presents, to ensure his great-grandmother could spend time with him today, who helped supervise tons of small children, and who prepared a wonderful party for him. He has doting aunts and uncles who traveled to see him, called him from states away, who played with him, kept a watchful eye on him, and who pitched in and do whatever needed to be done to ensure things went smoothly. He has polite, thoughtful, fun friends who allowed him to have the first piece of cake, to be the first to play with his new toys, to play chase with him, fish with him, and to make his special day one he'll remember for years to come. He has amazing adults in his life who took time out of their busy schedules to attend his party, purchased gifts they knew he'd love, helped clean up, and seemed truly happy to be celebrating with him.
I am so grateful for all of these people. I am so grateful to the One who placed them in our lives. Most of all, today, I am grateful that four years ago, I was allowed to be part of a miracle. My life has never been the same. Thank God!
4/28/11
Poop in the tub - Part III
I know what you're thinking. Really? Another post about poop in the tub?! That's kind of what I was thinking...Really? Another incident involving poop in the tub?! Only this time, it's not a traditional tub per se.
See, here's how it went down. We came home from a nice, relaxing dinner at Grammy and PawPaw's house. The minute we stepped into the house, it was clear, something was amiss. The house smelled of, well, poo. Immediately, the search began. Given that it was so close to bedtime, it was a very cursory search, and no offensive items were spotted. Shaking our heads, we ushered the kids upstairs and began the night-time rituals of using the potty, brushing teeth, etc. Then Aaron emerged from Maddie's room, where he had been gathering her pajamas, with a smirk and a small, plastic tub from her dollhouse.
There, inside, was the culprit. Disgusting! I couldn't believe it. The entire tub is only about 3" X 6". How on earth did she have the proper aim? Then the thought hit me. Oh no. What if she didn't have the proper aim? What if she had moved it? Ewwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!! I searched her room but could find no further evidence.
The questioning began. Please remember, she is merely 2 1/2, so her answers are brief, sometimes unintelligible, and often a far cry from the truth. From what we could gather, she needed to "go potty" during nap time (but knew that leaving her room could result in the loss of tv privileges later) and so she decided to "use dollhouse potty." Oh, of course. It would never actually fit in the dollhouse toilet. It only stands to reason she should defecate in the tub. Silly me.
We explained to her (for the umpteenth time) that she may indeed leave her room during nap time to utilize a full-sized potty.
Now it's nearly ten, and I am off to sanitize yet another tub. At least this one should take less time and Clorox.
See, here's how it went down. We came home from a nice, relaxing dinner at Grammy and PawPaw's house. The minute we stepped into the house, it was clear, something was amiss. The house smelled of, well, poo. Immediately, the search began. Given that it was so close to bedtime, it was a very cursory search, and no offensive items were spotted. Shaking our heads, we ushered the kids upstairs and began the night-time rituals of using the potty, brushing teeth, etc. Then Aaron emerged from Maddie's room, where he had been gathering her pajamas, with a smirk and a small, plastic tub from her dollhouse.
There, inside, was the culprit. Disgusting! I couldn't believe it. The entire tub is only about 3" X 6". How on earth did she have the proper aim? Then the thought hit me. Oh no. What if she didn't have the proper aim? What if she had moved it? Ewwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!! I searched her room but could find no further evidence.
The questioning began. Please remember, she is merely 2 1/2, so her answers are brief, sometimes unintelligible, and often a far cry from the truth. From what we could gather, she needed to "go potty" during nap time (but knew that leaving her room could result in the loss of tv privileges later) and so she decided to "use dollhouse potty." Oh, of course. It would never actually fit in the dollhouse toilet. It only stands to reason she should defecate in the tub. Silly me.
We explained to her (for the umpteenth time) that she may indeed leave her room during nap time to utilize a full-sized potty.
Now it's nearly ten, and I am off to sanitize yet another tub. At least this one should take less time and Clorox.
4/25/11
Picture Day
I liken taking the kids to have their pictures made to Chinese water torture, to having my fingernails removed with pliers, etc.
You might think I'm being dramatic. I'm not. I hate it...with a passion. I hate it more than cleaning up explosive diarrhea or vomit. I hate it more than mopping my floors. (If you know me, you know that's a big deal.)
Today was the day. Time for Parker's 4 year pictures. I thought that it would be cute to get one of the kids together, too...maybe an Easter theme. HA!
Part of my problem is that each time I think I will be able to take them to a department store [read: cheap] portrait studio, and actually get what I want. My plan is simple enough. Walk in with the portrait package coupon, walk out $7.99 poorer. Never works. Ever.
See, they break you down. They know that by the time they show you the custom collages they've created or the 892 separate photos they've taken, you are already mentally, physically, and emotionally incapacitated.
Here's how it works. You plan your day just so. You iron their "picture" clothes before they awake. The kids are bathed and fed. You pack an array of distractions [books, toys, food]. You arrive 10 minutes early to wet and brush their hair and change them into their "picture" clothes. You're feeling pretty good.
Phase 1: The studio torture commences. All associates are busy trying to convince other customers (whose children are climbing the walls at this point) that they would actually save money [in the future, should they ever be stupid enough to return] by purchasing the Portrait Club Pack. So focused are they on their sales pitch, that you and your perfectly groomed children are completely ignored. At this point, one of your children begins to whine that he/she needs to potty now, and you hustle them out of the studio, down the hall, and into the nearest restroom. All instructions "not to touch anything" are ignored, and soon you are frantically scrubbing their hands, getting their pressed clothes wet.
Phase 2: The waiting game continues. You return to studio to wait some more. Now your children are wrestling with each other on the floor, adding dirt and wrinkles to their wet, previously pressed clothes. Your name is called.
Phase 3: You become the problem customer. No sooner is your name called, your other child insists he/she must potty [though he/she had just insisted moments ago when you were actually in the restroom that there was absolutely no need to go then]. Hustling your wet, dirty, wrinkled children down the hall again, you visit the restrooms and return, breathless.
You present your coupon. The laughter inside the employee's head is almost audible as she takes it from your hand and lays it dismissively on the counter, as if to say, "Yeah, right. We'll see if you escape this place and just pay for 2 poses! Ha!"
Phase 4: The actual photo shoot. The "hugging" poses quickly take on the appearance of full-on football tackles. It's not pretty. Though the photographer maintains a sweet [if somewhat strained] tone, asking the children for cooperation, you quickly move onto bribery, then threats, then the evil mommy stare. (This will explain the terrified expression plastered on their faces when you later view the photos.)
Phase 5: The post picture-taking wait. Your children are done with a capital D. They want out of their clothes. They want out of the studio. They want lunch. They want daddy. Pretty much anything you don't have in your bag-o-bribes, they want. Meanwhile, the salesperson is putting together an array of photo collages you already explained you do not want...but they have to because it is a requirement of their job...yada, yada, yada.
Phase 6: The worst and final stage. The choice. You are finally beckoned to a nearby computer, where you are forced to view the collages you will never be able to afford. You secretly smile because some of the pictures are so bad (e.g. when the children are paralyzed with fear due to your own ferocious expressions, no doubt), you don't even want them. After you finish viewing the collages, you move onto the 4,000+ individual shots which were taken. [Please note that while you are viewing the plethora of photos, you are also keeping one eye on your children who are quite literally climbing the walls]. You finally find 3 great photos. You can't narrow it down. Your mind is mush. Your coupon will only apply to 1. They've got you. Is that salesperson smirking?
You leave lugging the bag of clothes, toys, and food, dragging along two crying, hungry, tired children. You realize the only way in which you will ever be able to actually look upon these pictures and smile is if your brain is miraculously cleansed of this terrible experience.
Luckily for me, I have an awful memory.
4/23/11
Best Baddest
Tonight at dinner, Maddie was refusing to finish her meal.
Aaron instructed her to eat a bite of meat.
Maddie: No.
Aaron: Well, don't you want your Easter candy tomorrow?
Maddie: No.
Aaron (knowing that even when she didn't desire an object, she would never let it fall into enemy hands): Should I just give it all to Parker?
[Long pause]
Maddie (upping the ante): Yeah. Give it to buddy.
Parker grinned from ear to ear as he happily devoured his dinner. Between mouthfuls, he encouraged Maddie, "Just be on your best baddest behavior!"
Aaron instructed her to eat a bite of meat.
Maddie: No.
Aaron: Well, don't you want your Easter candy tomorrow?
Maddie: No.
Aaron (knowing that even when she didn't desire an object, she would never let it fall into enemy hands): Should I just give it all to Parker?
[Long pause]
Maddie (upping the ante): Yeah. Give it to buddy.
Parker grinned from ear to ear as he happily devoured his dinner. Between mouthfuls, he encouraged Maddie, "Just be on your best baddest behavior!"
4/12/11
Rainbow Connection
I love being a fly on the wall when the kids are conversing...
Today Parker's preschool class made lovely rainbows using paint, markers, glitter, crayons, and bits of paper. It was very creative, and he was quite proud. When he got into the van, in a rare moment of generosity, he allowed Maddie to hold his treasured artwork.
Maddie (squealing excitedly): Puh-pull!
Parker: Yeah, Maddie. Purple.
Maddie: Puh-pull is Maddie's flavorite!
Parker: No it's not!!! [knowing pink is actually her favorite color]
Maddie: Yes IS it!
Parker: It is?
Maddie: Yeah, buddy.
Parker: Oh. Okay.
Today Parker's preschool class made lovely rainbows using paint, markers, glitter, crayons, and bits of paper. It was very creative, and he was quite proud. When he got into the van, in a rare moment of generosity, he allowed Maddie to hold his treasured artwork.
Maddie (squealing excitedly): Puh-pull!
Parker: Yeah, Maddie. Purple.
Maddie: Puh-pull is Maddie's flavorite!
Parker: No it's not!!! [knowing pink is actually her favorite color]
Maddie: Yes IS it!
Parker: It is?
Maddie: Yeah, buddy.
Parker: Oh. Okay.
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