I Secretly Love Having Teenagers

Okay, I've only had 2 teenagers for 4 months.

And I've only had any teenagers at all for 19 months. (Though Ironflower started acting like a teenager when she was like 10, so I think I deserve some credit for those years)

But I feel super comfortable saying that I do love having teenagers in a way that I did not love having preschoolers - even though I actually love preschoolers. (In small doses. When I'm well-rested.) In fact, until fairly recently, I would have told you that I love children 0-11 way more than I love teenagers.

I would have been lying about the toddlers, though. Toddlers are assholes. Adorable assholes. 

I would have told you that I was dreading having teenagers and that I wished all my kids could stay kids forever. Even though Lois Duncan wrote a captivating book about why that's a bad idea. I must have reread that book 10 times when I was 13 or so. Because 13 is the worst.

But since I remember that feeling so vividly - in a way I do not remember being 2 and feeling like I would die if I couldn't wear my blue dress - it's so much easier for me to empathize with my teenagers than it ever was with my toddlers/preschoolers/elementary schoolers.

I mean, I always tried to lead with empathy and talk about feelings but. . .I had 3 kids in 4 years and not one of those kids could have ever been described as mellow or easygoing. Sometimes survival took on a great importance than empathy. Now that someone isn't always in danger of running into traffic and/or throwing a tantrum, it's a lot easier to be empathetic.

But as much as I would love to attribute enjoying my teens so much to my greater empathy and subsequent closeness, that's not the bulk of it.

The bulk is that my teenagers share my sense of humor. My really inappropriate, snarky and filled with fucks sense of humor. I'm sure it will get them into trouble some day if it hasn't already, but I'm genuinely okay with that. I love it when they make me laugh and I also love the fact that I no longer have to censor myself around them. That's what I secretly love about having teenagers.

The fact that I can leave them home alone, or make them run into the store for me or reach things out of the tall cabinets are just bonuses, I swear.

Friday I'm In Love 4

Another tough week to love things. Was very tempted to instead post about things I hate and people who totally suck, but I am (so far) restraining myself. Now, on a happier note. . .things I loved this week.


1. This post about what true bravery is. Tracie? Is truly brave.

2. Hugmonkey. I think he must have overheard us worrying about money - he gave us the red envelope he got for preschool Chinese New Year. Too bad the money in it was fake.

3. Lovebug and Ironflower. They created their own board game last weekend. Without any prompting from me. AND it includes Harry Potter characters.

4. The guy who posted that gay marriage would lead to people marrying their beloved horses. I really needed to go off on someone and there you were, comparing horses to people. Why does only gay marriage open the door for this? Why doesn't any marriage open the door for marrying one's horse? Or dog? Sorry. I guess I wasn't quite done venting.

5. The Westboro Baptist Church is losing members. Two of Fred Phelps' granddaughters just left and another former member posed for the NOH8 campaign.

6. Smash is back on TV. In my dream world there would be a Smash/Nashville crossover episode and Juliette Barnes would get a role in Bombshell and have sex with Derek while Rayna taught Julia how to dress.

Wordless Wednesday: Siblings

I freaking love this picture.

An Excuse For My Hypocrisy

When I was in the second grade, I started a letter writing campaign to demand that the movie "Grease" be given a 'G' rating, not a 'PG' one. I was kind of obsessed with "Grease" and it was painful to me that some of my classmates couldn't watch it because it was rated 'PG'. Or at least that's the excuse they gave. Now that I think about it, not very many of my second grade classmates grew up to be theater nerds with me in high school. Maybe they just couldn't appreciate a good musical.

 I didn't think a few swear words and a teen pregnancy storyline were bad for kids. I don't remember registering the liquor or smoking as a big deal either. As far as I was concerned, the singing and dancing were what really mattered. Though the clothes also intrigued me. I really wanted a Pink Lady jacket. And skintight black pants.* At 7, my crush on Olivia Newton-John was far bigger than my crush on John Travolta.

But this is not a post about Grease. ** It's about how I would rather my 7 year old not watch Grease.

And how I'm afraid that this makes me a total hypocrite/helicopter parent/idiot.

I mean, I don't even like her to watch iCarly. We used to use Led Zeppelin to soothe her and now. . . I'm sheltering her from a movie I watched when I was 7? I still let her listen to Led Zeppelin - or any other music she wants. I don't think hearing lyrics she won't understand is going to mess her up.

But seeing a story, well, this is a kid who has always acted out her favorite TV shows and movies. It's not that I think she's going to turn into Rizzo or that girl from St. Bernadette's. But I don't want her acting out scenes from this movie on the playground. Or even thinking so much about all the romantic drama that goes on in that movie, nevermind the other stuff that happens.

If you had asked me at 8 or 11 or 14 what I thought was supposed to happen in romantic relationships, I would have described Sandy's plot line from Grease. This was not a good set up for teenage dating. The lesson I wish I had learned was that if he suddenly starts acting like a jerk, he's a jerk. He's not going to change his ways because he loves you so much, like Danny did for Sandy.***

At this point, my daughter views boys as potential playmates, not boyfriends. If she likes a boy, it's because he helped her build a fort. I feel like repeated viewings of Grease and other romance heavy shows are going to change that. I know that someday, of course, she will look at boys like boyfriends. Or girls like girlfriends, whatever. But why push her?

It's not like I'll never let her watch Grease or iCarly or Degrassi. Down the road I plan on forcing all the kids to watch Degrassi and 16 & Pregnant with me. And Grease. And Sixteen Candles. And Fame. I'm hoping these will be fun family occasions, but I suspect these viewings will actually occur when they are grounded.

So I'm not a total hypocrite. When I feel they are old enough (which is definitely not while they still work so hard to believe in Santa Claus) I will let them watch all kinds of PG and R rated material.

What about you? Is there a movie or a TV show that you watched that you won't let your kids watch? What's your philosophy on PG and R ratings?





*I finally understand some of the unfortunate fashion choices I made while clubbing in college.

**Although it could be. I still love that movie.

***Undoubtedly not all my teenage dating issues had to do with Grease, Sixteen Candles also shoulders some of the blame. And all the hours I watched All My Children with my babysitter probably didn't help.

Help With My Pathetic Attempt To Be Organized

So, presently I am making spreadsheet to compare and contrast various after school activities for the kidlets. It's part of my newest attempt at being an organized, prepared and well-budgeted person. Last year, I was all, "Hey, do you guys want to try this?" whenever an interesting class or activity popped up and then suddenly we were busy ALL THE TIME. And we didn't even try half the stuff that is available around here. Because, you know, we haven't won the lottery. I also think kids need time to play.

But now I am torn. There's not enough time or budget for the kids to do all the things I want as well as all the things they want. I am having trouble prioritizing. So naturally I thought I would ask the internets how they resolve this dilemma.

Is a climbing class a good idea? They're always climbing on something. 

*How many activities do your elementary school aged kids do?

*How do you choose what activities your kids do?

*What activities did you do as a kid that actually helped you as a teenager and/or adult?

*Are two half hour activities too much for a first grader to have in one day?

Ironflower would like to take 4 hours of dance, piano, theater, jewelry making,  horseback riding* and soccer. Lovebug would like to take his favorite sports class at the Y, martial arts, soccer, basketball, science, hip hop, baseball and swimming. 

I'm also trying to plan for logistics like I can't be in two places at once and how many times a week HugMonkey can be entertained by my phone. 

And costs. 

Now do you see why I need a spreadsheet? And advice?

*This one is not going to happen because we have not won the lottery. But it's on her list.  

At Least I Can Stop Buying Tap Shoes Now

This weekend was Ironflower's  dance recital. She performed a tap number to "New York, New York" and a jazz number to "Fun, Fun, Fun". Naturally she looked absolutely gorgeous and completed all the steps well.

But the expression on her face most of the time?

Kinda miserable.

And the timing of the well-executed steps?

Kinda off.

I have watched my girl dance around the house since she could stand up. I have seen her find the beat of the songs she loves as she jumps around. I have the pre-K graduation t-shirt that says she wants to be a ballerina when she grows up.  But I also have to face the facts: Ironflower doesn't want to dance anymore. She didn't enjoy performing in the recital. She doesn't enjoy going to class.

I thought I'd have a few more adorable pictures before she'd quit dancing. I thought she wouldn't be that grown up yet.

I am so proud of her, because even though she didn't enjoy any of it, she did her best and didn't complain. She's never fussed about going to class, either, just told me that she'd rather do other things next year. Even though I offered to send her to the school where some of her kindergarten buddies go. Even though I said that next year, she could choose ballet or jazz or tap. Even though it's kinda breaking my heart.

I mean, Lovebug even told her he was excited to see her dance. And how cute is this picture? 

There'd better be some cuteness opportunities during soccer and gymnastics next year, that's all I gotta say. 

Where I Totally Fail At Being Non-Judgmental

I thought I should take advantage of the fact that's it's not snowing or freezing (technically, anyway) to take the kids to the park.  Naturally they requested the playground in the next town over, with its two sections that make it difficult to see all of them and few things that Hugmonkey can do independently. But I agreed to it, hopeful that the last 6 months would make the place easier to manage.

It wasn't.

Hugmonkey is no longer much of a climber, quite possibly because he is the youngest and used to having Mommy there to push him up. Which I did. Ironflower ran off and joined up with a girl her age. Lovebug wandered rather aimlessly until 3 small boys arrived with their mothers. He asked to play with them and one boy totally shot him down. As Lovebug tried to follow them up the slide, the same boy had a huge tantrum, climbed down and then screamed that Lovebug had cut in front of him. I had been just watching while pushing Hugmonkey in the swing, hoping that the one boy would accept Lovebug and let him play. But even after Lovebug climbed down and let the boy go in front of him (which I complimented loudly enough for his mother to hear), the boy still wouldn't let him play.

As more boys and moms joined the clique, Lovebug tried a few more times to play. But the boy rejected him each time. I then eavesdropped on some of the other boys and was horrified that a bunch of 4 year olds could be so nasty to each other while their parents were nearby, totally ignoring them. I encouraged Lovebug to play with Ironflower, but there's only so much pretending to be a boy fairy he can take.

I shouldn't be surprised, given that all the moms were unfriendly too. I should be over it - Lovebug is. I shouldn't be judgmental, because I'm trying to see the good in people.

But.

Not only did those brats hurt my kid's feelings, they tried to tell him it was THEIR park. I said something about that too, but once again the mothers totally ignored me and their children's bratty behavior.

Ironflower asked me, after we'd left, why those parents let their kids act that way. Before thinking about it, I responded, "Because they just don't care." I don't know if it's that they don't care to make the effort into making their kids good people of if they just don't care if their kids turn out to be good people, but I didn't go into it with Ironflower. She just commented that it was "too bad".

It's really no wonder those kids are little assholes.

Oops, that sounded kind of judgmental, didn't it?

Why I Should Just Home School

I was supposed to read to Ironflower's class today, during their library time.

(Slightly off topic, but I'm not sure if I get the point of this volunteerism, other than to make life easier for the school librarian. And is that really necessary? I've subbed as a school librarian before. It's an awesome gig if you like books and kids. I mean, I don't mind doing it because I like reading to kids and all, but I read to mine every day. I'm pretty sure Ironflower would rather hear the librarian's choices at this point.)

Of course, when I got the email telling me my time it was October, so I just put it in my Google calendar and forgot about it. I was not smart enough to give myself decent reminders, so when the one popped up this morning I may have freaked out a little. I had no one to watch Hugmonkey, Lovebug had to be at school at the exact same time and my horrible cold is still trying to kill me. Luckily another mom was able to trade days with me. (And yes, I have set up 10 reminders for that day, starting a week in advance so I can organize everything). She is my new favorite person, even though I'm not entirely sure I could pick her out of a crowd.

Anyway, after that fun morning I loaded the kids up to take them to school.

Except the car wouldn't start. I knew it was the battery and I do have jumper cables, but not one neighbor I have actually spoken to/am sure is not a serial killer/is under 90 appeared to be home. I couldn't get ahold of my mom and Hot Guy could not leave work. The garage said it would be at least an hour. Which, considering Lovebug's school lasts for 2.5 hours and Ironflower's for 3, seemed like a bigger pain than it would actually be worth.

Clearly I am not cut out for this suburban PTA mom gig.

Now I suppose if I was really meant to home school, we'd be doing learning activities right now instead of watching the Alvin and the Chipmunks sequel. But then again, I'm sure there's something they can learn from Alvin and his squeaky friends, right? Doesn't it count as music appreciation?

Rambling

I got nothing.

I was doing another project all week - one that didn't involve writing. And I kept thinking, "Oh, can't wait until I have a chance to post again. Blogging is so much more fun." And now I'm done with part 1 and I have time to post (because I am a lazy mother and have always forced my children to play independently, they are all happily acting out dramas with Matchbox cars. Of course, the second I typed that I heard, "Mom! Hugmonkey's stuck in the cars tub!") and I can't think of anything to say.

Do you want to hear about my cold and how my nose resembles Teddy Kennedy's?

Okay then, how about Ironflower's birthday party? It was awesome. Our Y does everything - cake, favors, hostesses - so all I had to do was greet people and take pictures. Hot Guy had to work, but my parents valiantly stepped in to rescue the boys from princess hell and all the girls seemed to have fun. They decorated crowns and bags, applied make-up (which they got to take home), had "tea" (apple juice), sandwiches and cake and danced. Ironflower loved it.

And did I mention that all I had to do was greet people and take pictures? Nevermind, it's worth mentioning twice anyway. My children will be having their parties at the Y until they go to college.

I don't know how we're going to afford to send them, but that's another post. Maybe I could just keep them like this, playing together happily as they take out every toy in the house in support of their Matchbox cars drama?

Having Kids Is Like Being Drunk

I am currently sporting a Cars band-aid around my thumb. It is band-aid number 4 and I have it so tightly wound that it's going to leave marks. In fact, I'm slightly concerned that my wound is going to need more than a band-aid.

It happened in the kitchen. Almost every injury I've gotten since having kids has occurred in the kitchen. I was cutting up cantaloupe while trying to block out a big kid screaming game as well as translate 20 month old gobbledy-gook. ChunkyMonkey yelled in frustration, I turned to look at him and . . .blood gushed from my thumb. I ran it under water, then returned to all the mommy duties. Soon I realized it was still bleeding.

And as I sat there at dinner, paper towels wrapped around the thumb and an inability to clearly explain to Ironflower and Lovebug what I'd done, I had an alcohol flashback.

The most fun wedding I ever went to (er, um, I'm sorry if I went to your wedding and that this wasn't it. I'm sure I had a fabulous time at your wedding too. I swear.) was my friend Mimi's. I was a bridesmaid in a cute dress who knew most of the guests, there was an open bar and lots of flirtatious men. What wasn't fun about it?

Well, there was the broken glass. Dropped near me, I quickly hopped up to get a waiter or paper towels or something. But, um, I had already taken off my strappy high heels. So apparently I stepped on some glass. It didn't hurt much, which I took to be a good sign and not a sign that I'd had more champagne than necessary. So I wrapped some paper towels around my foot and kept dancing.

When the paper towels bled through, I just asked someone to get me new ones. I was having so much fun.

It wasn't until early Sunday morning, as I practically crawled downstairs to my bathroom, that I became concerned about my foot. It throbbed, but so did my head, so I didn't worry until I saw the trail of blood. It went from the front door up the stairs to my room and was actually coming back down the stairs.

Yeah, my foot was still bleeding.

You know when a good time to go to the ER is? Early on a Sunday morning. Unless, of course, you can't adequately explain why your drunk ass didn't come into the ER the night before. The doctor actually called extra nurses in to hear my explanation of how I'd embedded the glass into my foot by continuing to dance.

Despite laughing at me, though, they gave me something that erased my hangover while they cleaned  and put seven stitches in my foot.

When I looked at my children at dinner and tried to explain how I cut my thumb, I felt exactly like I did in the ER. It was like the drunken instinct to hop right up - of course I'd keep chopping, even though I'd moved my thumb! And of course I'd just wrap some paper towels around it and keep going. Because just like I couldn't pass up fun back in the day, I couldn't pass up mommy duty last night.

I could totally pass up having stitches on the bottom of my foot again, though. That sucked. I hated the thought of crutches, so I spent weeks hobbling in flip flops and actually pulled a muscle in my foot as well.

Anyone else ever noticed parallels between having young kids and being drunk?

The Images In My Head

I don't think my family is good at fun.

Last night was the "Family Fun" night at the kids' preschool. Hot Guy had to work, so I decided that ChunkyMonkey should stay at home with my mom, 2 kids being enough for one tired woman to keep track of at a gathering filled with sugar and small children.

Of course Ironflower was drawn to the painting activity like moth to flame. . .which meant that I spent a lot of the evening cleaning blue paint off of her costume.

And Lovebug hated the noise. He ran into classmates, but they were all shy with each other (as opposed to how they'd been at the hay ride the day before) and overwhelmed by the crowd. So he pretty much wanted to leave from the moment we got there.

I spent most of my night dragging Lovebug around in search of Ironflower. Until the reptile show. Which my kids had enjoyed at a small play date last year, but this year it freaked Lovebug out. And Ironflower claimed not to like it, but I think what she didn't like was the large number of kids between her and the animals. Meanwhile I stood with some other preschool moms, having nothing to say while I fretted over my children's unhappiness.

Somehow I'm reminded of some of  last events I attended in school gyms - junior high dances. Before every dance, I'd have this image in my head of how it would go - the boy I liked would ask me to dance, I'd look impossibly cool while dancing, my friends would all tell me how great I looked - and it NEVER went that way.

These family events seem to go the same way for me. Before we go, I have this image in my head of the fun we're going to have - the kids will laugh and smile, I will chat amiably with acquaintances, the kids will behave - and it never works that way. Lovebug hates something about the event and clings, they both grab food and drink like mannerless heathens, I have brief conversations that I'm too preoccupied to pay attention to and at the end,  Ironflower says it wasn't good enough anyway.

I guess I'm just not destined to live up to the images in my head. Maybe I should stop trying.

Party Pooped

There's a business in a nearby town that is almost entirely devoted to personalized birthday favors. Well, I think it is. I've never actually been in there. But the kids have gotten adorable gift bags with personalized frisbees and whatnot in them. As well as candy. All from a store that I've never heard anyone refer to in any other context.

We've been to a birthday party that had a moonwalk, clown, hot dog cart and 4 cakes. And that was a first birthday party.Mostly, we've been to parties at indoor play places. But occasionally we've been to decked out yards, with visits from Dora and Diego. Once we went to a party that had a clown, a singer and a balloon maker.

I mention all this because Ironflower's birthday is a scant 2 months away. And there are 19 kids in her class. So we're looking at inviting 25 kids to the party, or thereabouts. That will pretty much double the exorbitant fee we'll be paying for the party space in the first place.

When I relayed this to a Kansas City friend of mine, she was kind of horrified. Party spaces and personalized favors didn't happen in her preschooler's world.

And when I lamented to a New Jersey mom that I wished my kids had been born in the summer so I could have a party in my yard, she was horrified by the thought of the clean up and organizing involved.

All I can think is, isn't celebrating a birthday supposed to be FUN? Why am I stressing about this 2 months ahead of time? Oh, right. Ironflower wants what all her friends have: her class at a party place where she will get to be the center of attention. And cute gift bags. And probably a new outfit for the event.

At least I'll have  break until Lovebug's birthday in March. And at least his class is small. And he probably won't care about the outfit.

What about you? What are birthday parties like in your neck of the woods?

Is There A Difference Between Mommy and Servant?

It's not that I claim to be a parenting expert or anything. I suppose I've got some basics figured out - don't smack them upside the head even when they deserve it, keep them clean and fed, don't let them watch R-rated movies, always have extra diapers. I also thought that encouraging them to learn the basic life skills was a good idea. And it appears that I'm in the minority on this.

Yesterday at Ironflower's dance class, I observed another four year old come in, plop down on the dressing room floor and hold her feet up. Her mother then removed her shoes for her. I nearly fell off the bench. This mom has always seemed perfectly sane to me. I subtly checked out the other girls and moms and it was all the same. Seemingly loving and normal moms removing shoes and clothes for their able-bodied kids. After class it was the same thing - Ironflower is the only one expected to dress herself and ask if she needs help. All the other moms dress their four year olds.

And yet I'm really bothered that almost three year old Lovebug can't/won't put on his own shoes. He also needs help removing shirts because he has such a big head. (No, seriously, it's that big. I'm going to be helping him in that department until he's like 8 or so, I swear.) But even he's been taking off his own shoes forever. And he takes off everything else and we're working on dressing himself.

At first I was all proud of my kids and their skills. But then I realized that maybe these kids CAN do all of these things, they just don't have to. And I started to wonder if I should be doing these things for my kids too. Am I forcing them to be too independent? Should they just expect me to take their shoes off for them?

Fortunately I then remembered that martyrdom does not become me, so this is all really moot. Independent kids make a much less stressed Jerseygirl. In fact, I've even got Ironflower helping Lovebug with his shoes now, so frustrated have I become trying to teach him (or will him, rather) to put on his slip-on shoes. And we're all a little happier in the morning.

But still, is this forced independence going to make them feel unloved? Or are those other kids being taught that they're incapable? What are your thoughts?


PS - Leslie over at My Mommy's Place is having another one of her haiku contests. Check it out!

What I Learned On My Winter Vacation

One of the things I love about traveling is that you can learn so many things. I mean, sure I loved being in a warmer part of the country (have I mentioned that it actually got down to freezing while we were there? It did.) and having my parents to share so many child-rearing duties, but the best part was going somewhere new. Okay, all the alone time Hot Guy and I got was pretty cool too, but still, I loved exploring. Seeing new things and new for the kids things was fabulous too. But nothing beats the learning.

I learned things about my family:

Hot Guy has an odd affinity for Kool and the Gang.

Feeding Ironflower donut holes and lemonade is a very BAD idea, especially when she's going to be riding in a car that day.

Lovebug has traindar - he can find a train no matter where he is and no matter what he is doing.

ChunkyMonkey must go to sleep at 9pm if he is to sleep through the night - any other time and he wakes up.

My Dad has amazing putting baby to sleep powers.

My mom has mastered her iPhone but is freaked out by the ATM.

I learned things about life south of the Mason-Dixon line and east of Alabama:

Apparently no one there has ever seen a triple stroller. Seriously, people stared at us wherever we went - I now have so much sympathy for those families that are "different" for some reason.

Everyone seems to have missed the highway driving section on the driving test. Also lacking: the parking skills section.

Warm Saturdays are not the day to try to park anywhere near any Smithsonian museums.

All the straight men sound like Larry the Cable Guy.

No one in Florida got the memo about tanning being bad for you.

You can find good NPR and decent country music everywhere except the New York area.

ALL senior citizens want to know "What aisle did you find that baby in?" whenever and wherever you take your infant shopping.

I learned even more about traveling with small children:

Never try it without at least one electronic entertainment device.

Museums are fine, but beaches and playgrounds are better.

And nothing beats having a TV in your vacation bedroom.

Nothing can drown out the sound of a four year old girl's voice or a two year old boy's tantrum, no matter how big the minivan or how loud the radio.

Construction vehicles stop being exciting after ten minutes of construction zone traffic.

Parents should have access to alcohol and/or chocolate at all times.

I May Be Doing Something Right

This morning, after telling the kids that we would be leaving for Florida tomorrow, I overheard this conversation.

Lovebug: I want to see the pyramids. I want to see them in Florida.

Ironflower: Lovebug, the pyramids are in Egypt. You can't see them in Florida. We'll see them when we go to Egypt.

Lovebug: I want to go to the beach in Florida!

Let's hope they can maintain their positive attitudes and intellect while we drive down there. We weren't going to go, but my parents have rented a rather large condo and well, we feel that we all deserve a vacation after this fall and winter.

Of course, my parents are flying down.

We'll be driving the minivan with three kids and eighteen bottles of wine. The wine is supposed to be for after we get there.

I'm not entirely sure about that.

Lucky F**kin' Ducks

Ironflower got a belated birthday present. I'm sure the gift was given in good faith. I'm fairly sure this person's child did not receive the same gift for his birthday and that this person didn't take one look at it and decide to regift it. But even if she did, I totally understand why.

Ironflower received a game called "Lucky Ducks". It requires batteries. Unfortunately, we actually had the batteries. So Ironflower has been playing the game since yesterday. Lovebug and I have even played with her. The game is simple enough that she can play by herself or with her brother (without fighting). It's a bit educational. But what it mostly is, is loud. The ducks quack throughout the ENTIRE game.

Which means that while Ironflower entertains herself for an hour - which is fantastic - the ducks quack for that entire hour. Which is not fantastic. In fact, it's so annoying that I'm kinda hoping that the game breaks. Normally I can ignore - some would say all too easily - the noises my children and their toys make. But the mechanic quacking is DRIVING ME INSANE. And it's not just me.

This afternoon Lovebug got up and ran away during a Lucky Ducks game. The conversation that ensued was illuminating:

Ironflower: Where are you going? The game's not over.
Lovebug: NO! NO! NO DUCKS! I PLAY TRAINS!!!!!! NO DUCKS!

And ChunkyMonkey, who normally sleeps peacefully during the screams, shouts and thuds of his siblings, woke up when the Lucky Ducks game came on.

I'm telling you, these quacks are possibly the most annoying sound on the planet.How wrong would it be if the game disappeared suddenly? Or ran out of batteries?

And what the hell should I write in the thank-you note?

Condiment Clash

I know that my children don't have the healthiest diets. Unless a vegetable is so finely chopped that it (and its nutritional value) disappears into the sauce, my children won't eat it. And while they do eat fruit everyday, Ironflower only deems one fruit acceptable.

But still, I didn't think we were doing that badly. We don't have any trans fats and most of their snack crackers don't have high fructose corn syrup, at least. But then we had this conversation:

Ironflower: Mommy, I put peanut butter on whatever doesn't get syrup, right?

Me: As far as breakfast goes, I guess.

Ironflower: And lunch.

Me: And lunch.

Ironflower: But Lovebug likes ketchup, even on breakfast food.

Me: Lovebug loves ketchup, but remember we weren't going to talk about ketchup at breakfast anymore? Because mommy wants Lovebug to skip the ketchup at one meal?

Lovebug: Ketup! Ketup! Me! Ketup!

Me (muttering): I am such an idiot.

If it wasn't for peanut butter and ketchup, I'm pretty sure my kids wouldn't eat anything. We go through a big jar of peanut butter and a HUGE thing of ketchup every two weeks. If the kids were larger I'd be okay with that, but they are only two and three and neither one of them weighs over 30 pounds. And Hubby and I rarely touch the ketchup and never touch the peanut butter.

Is our family weird? Or do all small children have these strange condiment obsessions? And when will they grow out of them?

My Little Prodigy

On Tuesday I volunteered in Ironflower's class. I participated in circle time and then read the kids a story. It was so weird to be using my teacher voice but not be able to correct behavior and whatnot. Not that I wanted to correct very much behavior (her class really is very well-behaved), but it was very odd not having it be my job.

Still, it was a lot of fun. I thought Ironflower might show off in front of me, or shut down as some of the other moms reported their kids doing when they went in to read. But no, Ironflower handled the situation with total aplomb. She was her typical self - about four times more verbal then the other kids. Seriously, she's a talking prodigy. During circle time, Mrs.G. asked each kid to talk about his or her Easter. Most kids replied with a few sentences, some replied in short answers to Mrs.G's prompts. And then came Ironflower. Mrs.G. actually had to interrupt her, so detailed and lengthy was her description of Easter.

That afternoon she talked throughout her entire nap time. TWO HOURS. Sure some days, she doesn't sleep the whole time and I hear her chattering away. But I was within ear shot the whole time and she never, ever paused. It was amazing. She was telling stories, and having conversations with her kitty AND talking to her imaginary friends the dinosaurs - sometimes all at once.

No wonder I sometimes worry about Lovebug's language skills - he speaks like a normal child. By the time Ironflower was his age, she spoke in complete sentences ALL the time. And now she talks in paragraphs. She's even developed a game that emphasizes talking. She describes an animal and then it's your job to guess what it is. Then you describe an animal and she guesses what it is. Yesterday she and Hubby were playing in the car (Ironflower is adamant that this is a two person game only) and he was describing a zebra, "It's black and white, kinda looks like a horse and stars with 'zzz'". Ironflower was stumped long enough for Lovebug to chime in, "Ze-Buh!"

He may not be the talking prodigy his sister is, but he sure doesn't miss anything!

Birth Story Carnival

I almost forgot about Sarcastic Mom's super Birth Story Carnival, but luckily I checked her awesome blog today. Head on over to read her fabulous story, find other stories or to add your own.

Ironflower

When I was pregnant with Ironflower, I swelled up like a balloon. Seriously. I had so much fluid that the poor child just kept floating around in there - some days she was breech, some days she wasn't. About two weeks before my due date, my OB suggested that I would need a c-section. She was pretty sure that between the MASSIVE amount of fluid and the size of Ironflower's head that I was going to wind up needing one no matter what - did I want to schedule one or wait and see what happened? I thought about it over night. I talked to three people who'd had emergency c-sections. I was at a point where I couldn't fit into my own shoes, my feet were so swollen. I wanted it to be over, though Ironflower had not hinted that she was ready to come out at all. I scheduled the c-section.

All was well until the epidural kicked in. I was lying flat on the operating table, but all of the sudden it felt like I was tipping over backwards and that there was an elephant sitting on my chest. Apparently this is not uncommon, but no one had mentioned it to me. I started to panic. My blood pressure dropped and I started to fade in and out. The kind anesthesiologist gave me some kind of drug and things got better. Meanwhile, they were having a hard time pulling Ironflower out. The fluid had literally gushed out of me and soaked the floor and she was in some odd position and I don't know, it took them awhile to get her out. So long that she got some of my happy drugs into her system and was pretty lethargic at first. It took her five minutes to cry.

FIVE LONG MINUTES. Finally, she started crying and so did we. I couldn't see her, but Hubby made his way over to the bassinet (trying not to slip in the fluid and quickly averting his eyes from my guts) and not too long after that I FINALLY got to see her. I couldn't believe she was really there. We all got about twenty minutes together in the recovery room, then she and Hubby went to the nursery and I sort of slept.

It felt like forever until we were all settled in our room together. I couldn't get over how beautiful and tiny she seemed (though at 8 pounds, 10 ounces, she really wasn't that tiny as newborns go). She was pretty mellow, too. We hardly slept for the three days we were in the hospital. I couldn't sleep when she went off to be weighed and bathed in the middle of the night and I felt like I needed to be awake whenever she was in the room. Even though she was extremely mellow and rarely cried, I just felt like I had to be hyper-vigilant. Sometimes I dozed, but only when Hubby or my mom was there. Ironflower had trouble nursing at first, but eventually (thanks, really, to Hubby's encouragement and support) we got there. We've been marveling at her beauty and trying to get her to eat ever since.



Lovebug

This time when my OB asked if I wanted to try for a vaginal birth or have another c-section, I was ready. I picked c-section. I was nervous about VBACs and since I knew what to expect with a c-section it just seemed the way to go.

This time, I was asked if I wanted a spinal or an epidural. I was told that spinals were better and since I hadn't been all that impressed with my epidural, I went with it. Which was a mistake. Because it hurt like a son of a bitch. Now I realize that it was nothing like giving birth the natural way, but at least then you know the pain is coming. I was actually in the early stages of labor when I went in for my c-section. Even though it was 12 days before my due date. Lovebug had been banging his head against my pelvis for a few days. I was expecting a pinch and instead I got hot knife slicing my leg in half. Or so it seemed.

After that, though, things went swimmingly. I didn't panic on the table (no upside down feeling or elephant on my chest) and Lovebug popped right out. The first thing my OB said was, "He has a HUGE head." And that right there made me feel a whole lot better about choosing the c-section. Lovebug cried on cue and didn't really stop until about an hour and a half later, when we first tried breastfeeding. Which he took to like a duck to water. The lactation expert dropped by my room the next day and started to tell me that I was holding him "wrong", but when I invited her to lean over and check us out up close, she realized that we were just fine. She didn't drop by again.

Lovebug was so vigorous and so hungry - he was his own little person right away. And while I still had a hard time when he was out of the room, I was able to sleep a bit this time. The best was watching Ironflower check him out for the first time. She was so in awe and really didn't exhibit much jealousy. Of course, she was only 15 months old.

Lovebug's passion still amazes us, though he seems to have lost his champion eating ability.

Yet More Evidence That I Am Incompetent

Yesterday I took Ironflower and Lovebug to an indoor play area. They were in heaven - the climbing structure was amazing and some sweet older kids included them in their games. Every so often I would ask Ironflower if she needed to go to the bathroom. She would always reply no.

Generally, Ironflower is potty trained. Especially if you ask her about it periodically. Which I did.

But I should have weathered the tantrum that would have resulted from a forced potty break. Because the tantrum that came when we had to leave - because she'd wet herself and a slide - was much, much worse.

I (of course) had just started reading a parenting magazine, because the kids were safe and entertained. I was glancing up periodically, of course. But not when Ironflower was peeing, natch. So another mom had to tell me about it. She was also kind enough to alert one of the workers - surely we're on a blacklist now.
Then there was the fact that I didn't have an extra outfit for her. So we had to leave.

Neither child wanted to leave. As usual, though, after an initial screaming session that rocked the roof, Lovebug calmed down and accepted the inevitable. Not Ironflower. I practically had to drag her out by the arm (because, well, she was pretty much covered in pee so I REALLY didn't want to carry her).