Quiet?

The other day, Alyssa's teacher asked how she was doing, how she was liking school. I must have looked at her quizzically because she followed up by saying that she's doing great. She's just quiet, so she was checking in.

"QUIET?!?" was my shocked response. Alyssa? Quiet?

I told Ms. Plencner that from all the stories Alyssa tells me, she certainly seems to be having lots of fun. She loves school.

The quiet comment stumped me though. So of course I over-analyzed all the way home from school.

At home, Alyssa rarely stops chattering. Or singing. Or making some kind of noise. She puts on how-to shows complete with commercials. She tells me about her dreams and her nightmares. She asks billions of questions. She talks to her dolls and her dolls talk back. She tells long long long stories. It's constant.

Quiet?

Is everything okay? I see her teacher every day and we chat often. Was there a reason she mentioned this now? Did something happen? It's not that I can't imagine Alyssa being quiet. Amanda is the same way. Much quieter at school than at home. In fact, I remember having the same conversation with the same teacher about Amanda when she was in Kindergarten. And it took me by surprise then too.
I think it's just that I spend so much time with them and I feel like I know them so well that it's jarring to hear a report that doesn't fit in with the picture I've drawn in my head.

I understand that people act differently in different situations. I totally get that. I was more surprised by the quiet comment because every day Alyssa gives me long detailed reports about her school days and in her stories, she's not quiet. She raises her hand often and speaks up a lot... But not just a lot. In some of her stories she raises her hand more often than anyone else. More than once I've heard the line, "I was the only one who raised my hand." And I'm always happy to hear these reports. Relieved, actually. Because speaking up in class was something I struggled with.

It occurred to me then that I just have issues with the whole quiet thing. I decided it would have bothered me less if the teacher had said Alyssa had been disturbing the class by chatting too much. Now that's pretty screwed up. You'd think I'd know that quiet can be a good thing considering how often I wish I had more of it. But instead my quiet self freaks out and starts SCREAMING inside when one of my children gets labeled "quiet."

See, quiet was a label that followed me through all of my school years and even into my work years. It was the thing, that thing, that would show up on report cards and even on performance reviews. And perfectionist that I was, that was what I focused on. It didn't matter how much the rest of the report glowed with gold stars, hard work, successes or A+'s... It made me crazy that I never could conquer that quiet thing. Even when I tortured myself on a regular basis by forcing myself to speak up, the label stuck. And speaking up in large groups or even relatively small ones has never really gotten easier for me.

I've made peace with it now for the most part thanks in part to a wise friend who explained that trying to turn myself from an introvert to an extrovert was like trying to turn my brown eyes blue. Studies have shown that introverts are actually wired differently than extroverts. So quiet is just part of who I am. And that's not a bad thing.

Of course one casual comment from her teacher doesn't mean anything. But I did make a mental note to listen extra carefully to Alyssa after school that day. And when she pronounced it "the worst day ever" (totally different than her normally happy reports) I figured I was in for a good story.

Instead, she told me that the day had started like it always does with a few songs, like the Good Morning song... and then there was math. She slowly walked me through all of the math problems. Told me who raised their hand and if they'd gotten the answers right or wrong. We stopped to pick up a roly-poly (See photo above.) Then the teacher asked them if they knew any words in Spanish. Alyssa said she was the first to raise her hand and volunteer, "Hola!" (Completely due to our intense home-schooling efforts or whatever you call the hours she's spent watching Dora the Explorer) and then she told me what every other kid had said. (No actual Spanish was spoken after this point, but she put on a heavy Spanish accent and created a whole lot of interesting words and meanings to go along with them.) No amount of prompting got her to tell the story any faster.

We had a brief musical interlude when she explained and demonstrated, complete with snapping motions, how they'd learned a new song about the days of the week, sung to the tune of "the Adamms Family." (snap, snap.) She told me there was a girl in the other Kindergarten class wearing the exact same jeans as her. She told me she and a bunch of others got awards for getting happy faces every single day of school. She told me that Emma and Gabby are the tallest girls in the class and that Anthony is the oldest. She told me that Nicolas washes his eyeballs and that Luke's tooth fell out.

Twenty-eight minutes into the story, Alyssa finally explained why it was the worst day ever. It seems that "other Alyssa" was driving her around on a bike and they crashed into the fence. No, she didn't get hurt and neither did "other Alyssa". I asked if that was really enough to qualify it as the Worst.Day.Ever. And she said, "Well it was cold outside too."

Seems to me that if that was her worst day ever that her life must be pretty good, quiet or not.

And her story wasn't over. She went on to tell me that she'd exchanged phone numbers with Madeline (strangely, Madeline's phone number has only 5 digits.) She told me Brianna had a tummy ache and that Jake spilled his milk on her backpack. She told me about the upcoming field trip to the pumpkin patch and that Eric can speak Chinese. She counted to 100, more or less. She told me why she wrote her name in orange and that if she tilts her head a certain way and squints her eyes that things look funny. By this point my eyes had glazed over and I may have been drooling slightly. And that's when I officially decided I'm not worried about Alyssa being quiet at school. But I am a little jealous.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Princess & the Pop Star

I have to admit this Halloween was a bit tougher than usual, what with Amanda doing that really annoying thing... thinking for herself.

It was probably in July or August that we started talking about Halloween costumes. Amanda told me she wanted to be Hannah Montana and I thought to myself there's plenty of time to change her mind.

I wasn't particularly thrilled with that choice of costume for a few reasons… one being that my baby is far too young to be dressing like a teenage pop star. Another being that I'm rather old fashioned I guess, because I prefer easily recognizable costumes for kids, something more classic and timeless. And lastly, my BABY is far too young to be dressing like a teenage pop star. Yeah I know. I had to say that twice. Oh, and did I mention that the costume she wanted was $50? Fifty dollars for this totally cheap looking thing?!?

So for months I tried gently swaying her. Then I tried not so gently swaying her. I tossed out every single great idea I could think of, along with a whole bunch of not so great ones. But she wasn't budging. I like to get their costumes early, so I don't have to worry about it. But there we were only ten days before Halloween and she still hadn't decided. Well clearly she had decided, but I was still trying to pretend she hadn't. When I asked her for the 3,458^th time what she wanted to be for Halloween, her chin dropped and she said ever so sadly, "I don't know Mommy, I just don't know. Because there's only one thing I really, really want to be and you don't want me to be that."

Yep, I caved. Ordered the costume that day. And no, I didn't pay anywhere close to $50 for it. Which was good because she barely ended up wearing any of it. The leggings were see-through and the "dress" just barely covered her behind. The belt was awful and she hated the wig. So I insisted she wear a skirt and her own leggings. We used the dress as a top. The night before her Halloween party at school I discovered a huge rip under the arm on the jacket. Really? She'd only tried the thing on for a few minutes.

When Amanda saw the hole, she was seconds away from dissolving into tears so I put on my competent-Mom-face and told her I could fix it. No, I didn't actually believe I could fix it but I couldn't tell her that, could I? Much to the dismay of my mother, who is a master seamstress, I am completely unskilled in that area. Completely unskilled. So I did what the slightly less competent moms do and I got out the duct tape. Well they say you can fix anything with it, don't they? It worked too. Worked just fine until she put the jacket on and we heard this awful ripping sound. Her lip started quivering so again, I said, "Hey, no worries, I can totally fix this." Inside my head there was a lot of swearing going on but I couldn't tell her that, could I?

I finally managed to track down a needle but I couldn't find anything but black thread. When you're extremely bad at sewing, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to the fact by using the wrong color thread. I knew I had to have white thread somewhere but after a very long search and nearly giving up, I suddenly remembered... dental floss! Yup, I totally pulled a McGyver on the Hannah Montana costume from hell. It probably took me at least three times longer than it should have but I actually did a pretty darn good job on it. I'm not sure my mom would have been impressed but I totally was.

So Amanda was Hannah Montana… well no, actually she decided that without the blonde wig she would be Miley Cyrus. If you're not up on the Disney Channel and the whole Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana thing, just ask Amanda. If you wanna know about McGyver, ask me.

Alyssa was supposed to be the easy one this year. I knew anything pretty and sparkly and girly would make her happy so I was planning to put her in the princess dress Amanda wore years ago when Alyssa was just a little pea. It's been hanging in the closet for years, staring at me, just waiting to be worn again.

Except that when I went to get it so Alyssa could try it on, it had somehow managed to drop off the face of the earth. I couldn't find it anywhere. I was so desperate to find it that I reorganized the whole closet and every drawer in the place. If you know me at all, you'll sense the desperation in that move. But still, no princess dress.

Then one night I overheard Alyssa telling Scott that she was going to be Sleeping Beauty for Halloween because if she was Sleeping Beauty she could take a nap. Well that settled that. I didn't even know she knew who Sleeping Beauty was but I wasn't going to argue with napping logic.

So that's how we ended up with a princess and a pop star.

Four

Four? How is that even possible? My baby is turning four tomorrow. Four is hard to deal with. It's as hard to deal with as Seven was except I was too busy telling you about the day Amanda was born to whine about Seven. I hope to get around to telling the story of the day Alyssa was born, but first, I'm going to whine about Four.

I'm not ready for four. Especially since, before I know it, four will turn into seven. And then thirty. Four is tough. It's so big girl-ish. So not a baby anymore-ish. So mind of her own-ish. I'll be latching onto Four for dear life because I'm certainly not ready yet for Alyssa to get any older.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I will adore Four. I have no doubt that Alyssa will be amazing at any age. She is happy and funny and completely fearless. She's also bossy and has a bit of an evil streak but we're focusing on the good stuff.

We went to the Renaissance Faire last weekend and there were people dressed up in scary costumes who would parade through now and then… witches, goblins, skeletons… The older kids would run away when they showed up. One of the other 7-year-olds we were with would cry and hide behind her mom's back, but Alyssa… she would walk right up to them and let them twirl her around. During the belly-dancing show, she went up and stood right in front swaying her hips until one of the dancers came down and danced with her and then another invited her up on stage to dance with them.

She still loves shoes, dresses and baby dolls. She would have three zillion baby dolls if I would allow it. This gives me great hope for a future jammed full of a LOT of grandchildren. They will mostly be naked though until she whines enough and I finally give into her demands to dress them. She plays endlessly with her baby dolls but she also plays with little people and Barbie dolls and she makes up the funniest storylines, complete with all different voices.

She loves to sing and dance and she is LOUD. I'm pretty sure she picked up these habits from Amanda. Sometimes our world comes to a complete halt while Amanda and Alyssa turn the house into their version of a Broadway musical. She can be very self-sufficient. She hardly ever wets her pants but when she does, she cleans up the mess and changes her clothes before she mentions it.

She's at an especially adorable stage too. She's constantly telling me she loves me, but not just normal I-love-you's. She does those too, but lately she's also starting to say she's sorry when she does something wrong and sometimes she seems to use the phrase "I love you" interchangeably with the phrases, "I'm sorry" and "I forgive you". So sometimes if she's unhappy with me for something or if I'm unhappy with her, she'll burst out with this very emotional, "I LOVE YOU!"

You'd really have to hear it to understand but she's just so dramatic about it, and sometimes the dramas play out so FAST that it makes me want to laugh but I can't because she's so completely serious. One second it's like her world is shattered because I've said no to a second cookie. She's clearly upset with me, but then a second later she lets out a very distraught, "I love you!" and then she flings herself at me in an embrace dripping with feeling as if she was mad, but all is forgiven. She loves me even if I don't get it right every time.

The other day she grabbed my hammer when I wasn't looking. Mind you, my hammer is pink, so it probably looks pretty harmless, but in Alyssa's hands it won't be harmless when she starts pounding on the furniture or her sister's head. When I asked her to give the hammer back to me, she refused and then sat on it as if that was a surefire way to keep it away from me. When I picked her up and took the hammer away from her she was LIVID. I mean seriously angry and she stayed angry for quite a while. She kept saying, "You won't say you're sorry!" and I kept saying that, no I wasn't sorry that I took it away from her, because she knows better than to play with a hammer and she or someone else could get hurt. She went on and on, really upset until finally I was about to tell her I was sorry if I'd hurt her feelings but… I didn't get as far as an explanation because as soon as I got the "I'm sorry…" out of my mouth she yelled out an ever-so-dramatic, "I LOVE YOU!" and flung herself so hard at me that she nearly knocked me over. She stood there clinging to my leg and I knew once again that all was forgiven. She still loved me.

Nope, I'm not ready for Four. It's just that I have loved Three so much. I'm not ready to let go of this stage when she acts like I'm some kind of magician when I do the simplest little things. She oozes with gratitude over tiny things. I can strip down the bed to change the sheets and if Alyssa sees, she will be overwhelmed with appreciation: "You did this? You did this for ME?!?" To her, I didn't just yank the bedding off and throw it in a pile on the floor. No, in her mind, I just turned the bed into a trampoline and the bedding/pillows into a soft landing place perfect for jumping into.

"Amaaaaaaaaaanda!!! Come see what Mommy did!"

And it's like that all the time. I never know what amazing feat I've performed until it has been declared magical by Alyssa. By the time Seven rolls around, it is much harder to perform magic. Seven is a tougher audience. I adore Seven. But I have to work a whole lot harder for Seven.

Alyssa told me yesterday that she's decided that instead of turning four, she is going to turn two! For a split second I tried to decide if we could make that work somehow. As if it was her turn to perform magic. Really? Would you? You would do that for me???

Quote of the day

Alyssa, as she climbs the ladder on the loft bed, stops me in my tracks before I can say a word: "I'm bein' careful... even though I don't wanna be."

By the way, if you've noticed a lack of Amanda quotes lately, it's not because she's stopped saying funny stuff. It's just that as soon as I laugh that certain laugh she looks at me and says, "You're not gonna put that on your blog, are you? If you do, no more foot massages for a month!" Thank goodness Alyssa can't read yet.

Quote of the day

Alyssa: "Mommy, help! Come quick! Me and Jaden are in danger!!!"

Me: "What's wrong?"

Alyssa, handing me a Barbie: "I can't get her dress on!"

Me: "I thought you said you and Jaden were in danger."

Alyssa: "We are! We're playing house. That's the living room, that's the bedroom and this (spreading her arms to indicate the area we're standing in), this is danger!"


I'm just guessing we were in the kitchen. The kitchen scares me too.

"Help! I can't lift my backpack!"

Dressed in boots, a swimsuit cover-up and a tiara... Packing two sets of free-weights, some books, and a stuffed bunny, this kid is ready anything. If only she could lift her backpack.

Quotes of the day

Alyssa, after finally locating her jumprope: "Okay people, it's time to get this party started!"

Alyssa: "Does anybody know where Daddy's ipod is? I need to listen to music right now or else Dad will be...(long pause)...Dad."

Alyssa, pointing to the pillow she just placed on my lap: "I'm going to put my head right here, just in case I need it later."

Random Photo Tuesday

Yep, that's right, it's Random Photo Tuesday! And just in case you're wondering what Random Photo Tuesday is, you're in luck, because I'm about to tell you... It's when I post at least one picture of absolutely anything or anyone from any time with an explanation or without. Simple enough right?

Oh and the plan is that I'll do this every Tuesday. That part is important. Because to be honest, the main reason I'm doing this is just to make sure I keep checking in on a regular basis... so I don't fall off the edge of the blogging universe again. You have my permission to kick me in the butt if I don't follow through with this.

So now, for your viewing pleasure, a few random photos, posted on a Tuesday. This time I just chose some very typical moments captured around our house.

The first one is Amanda pulling Alyssa around on a "blanket sled". This scene gets repeated on a very regular basis, not always with a blanket, but with whatever happens to be around - a cardboard box, a laundry basket--if they can sit on it or in it, they will turn it into a mode of transportation if they can.

The next one is typical Amanda, doing the chef thing... I am frequently banned from the kitchen while she comes up with one of her creations... I think this is banana slices topped by grapes, surrounded by a circle of wheat thins. Martha Stewart, look out.

This one is typical Alyssa, wearing an outfit she picked out herself: a glittery ballerina tutu, a superhero cape and some cowboy boots. And she flies through the air with the greatest of ease.

The last one is from just a couple of hours ago when Alyssa tucked Daddy in for a nap. She covered him with her blankie, tucked her teddy bear in next to him under a dish towel and then read them both a bed time story. Well okay, she can't actually read yet, but she did her thing.

Public Bathrooms

Lately, public bathrooms have become wildly entertaining to Alyssa. A couple of weeks ago we went to a movie and then out to lunch, but I think the bathroom was the highlight of the day for Alyssa.

When she jumped off of the toilet and it automatically flushed, she was mad at me. "I wanted to do it!" But then it flushed again and her jaw dropped. "MAGIC!?!" she said.

A minute later it was time to wash her hands. She looked at me funny because there were no handles to turn on the faucet. So when I showed her how to wave her hands to start the water she, again, was stunned. "It's magic!" Yeah wait until I show you how to dry them, kid. Wheeeeeeee... The line of women watching us were just giggling as she chanted, "Magic, magic, MAGIC!!!"

The photo was taken last week in a different bathroom when she was having a blast playing with the hand-dryer. She's at just the perfect height so that she can not only reach the dryer, but have her face almost blown off by the blast of warm air. She thought it was great fun and repeated the process until I made her stop.

Believe it or not we have taken her to public bathrooms before. It's not like when we go to McDonalds and she jumps on the Ronald McDonald statue's lap and yells, "Mickey Mouse!" and I don't bother to mention that we're not actually in Disneyland.

We haven't taken her to Disneyland yet, but she's been in public bathrooms. I avoid them as much as humanly possible though, because they totally gross me out. Not sure if my dislike for them is in the normal range but I always think maybe I'm a bit over-the-top. I especially notice this when we're camping. For the most part, I'm pretty laid-back about dirt. Kids get dirty. That's life. But I always wonder if the girls are thinking Mommy is a little bit crazy when one minute I'm letting them play in the dirt and the next minute, upon entering a fairly clean looking camp bathroom, I go all psycho, warning, "Don't touch ANYTHING! It's dirty in here!"

Umm, we're practically coated in mud, Mom, and you don't want us to get dirty?

A visit to a public bathroom with a preschooler is the worst. If you haven't experienced it yourself, consider yourself lucky. You'll pull out the paper seat cover, and place it carefully on the seat, ensuring there is complete coverage so your precious darling's innocent little bottom will be well protected from the nasty germ-infested seat, then you'll lower the little darling onto the seat, s-l-o-w-l-y so as not to create even a slight breeze that might send the critical paper shield flying off... you'll do this while chanting don't touch ANYTHING, I will hold you.

But if that precious little darling has a mind of her own, she may just jump from your arms and announce, "Nooooo I can do it myself!" while yanking the paper off of the seat, seconds before she grabs onto the disgusting toilet to give her some leverage so she can jump on and then she'll sit there holding onto the nasty toilet with both hands. You will simply have to look on in horror as she proudly announces "I peeing!" to all who are interested. Try to remain calm because next she will probably jump off of the toilet and reach for the flusher with her HAND.

Any public restroom-hater knows you should only use your foot to push down that little flush lever. But she will have no fear. Don't stand around wallowing in disgusted horror for too long though, because if you do she will drop down on all fours to peer into the next stall and then you'll have to douse her from head-to-toe with that anti-bacterial hand-stuff and then take her home to give her at least eight baths. Whoever invented this product knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Seeing Alyssa so excited about public bathrooms leaves me nervous. Because now that she's decided how much fun they are I'm afraid we'll be visiting them way more often than I'd like. I can say no to the toy store and no to Disneyland (okay McDonalds… she doesn't need to know!) but it's not like I can really say NO when she starts doing the potty-dance and it won't be long until she figures this out. Wish me luck. And if anybody knows where you can buy disposable haz-mat suits in toddler sizes please let me know.

Quote of the day

Today Amanda and Alyssa got into an argument over their Barbies and Amanda reported that Alyssa had hit her twice because she didn't get the Barbie she wanted. I pulled Alyssa aside and said, "Alyssa it is NOT OKAY to hit. If you get angry because you don't get what you want you need to to use your words to tell us what you want. Is there something that you want Alyssa?"

She replied, "Yeah. I want to hit her!"

Do you think this color looks good on her?

Amanda thinks Alyssa's favorite color is red, but it's obvious to me she prefers Crayola blue-green.


(October 2006 - Alyssa tries a crayon. July 2008 - Alyssa tries a marker. Do you think this is why Crayola makes their products non-toxic and washable?)

Just another day

Yesterday was the worst day of Amanda's life. First a birthday party at school, complete with frost-it-yourself cupcakes followed by a playdate with Brandon who is the boy Amanda is just friends with but might marry. Then she played with Rilie for a few hours and they had a tea party with real food and apple juice which they managed to enthusiastically spill EVERYWHERE.

That was followed by this sweet and seemingly harmless request to play a board game which actually meant they were going to remove every single these-toys-are-on-the-top-closet-shelf-for-a-reason games, toys and crafts and spread the parts and pieces as far as they could within a three mile radius.

When I went in to check on how the board game was going, Rilie was trying to tear open a baggy of glitter glue with her teeth. She managed to get all the tubes of paint and the petrified clay that smelled like a toxic waste dump open all by herself. "Umm, yeah... Rilie we don't paint on Amanda's bed."

Oh! But I was proud... I'd spent hours cleaning her room this weekend because it was BAD so I was being all MOM with Amanda and Rilie and kept telling them they had to clean up one thing before they started on another. Figured they'd be in there FOREVER.

But a couple of minutes later they reported they were done and started their next project. I thought they must be lying so I went in there and the place was spotless. I checked all the obvious places...under the bed, in the drawers... and then finally found all the stuff crammed haphazardly into the closet behind the loft bed. Definitely not where it was supposed to go. Yet I was proud. Another milestone... Amanda's first time cleaning her room in the sneakiest way possible.

Then Rilie went home and I made Amanda take a bath without her bathing suit because I am the meanest mom in the entire world. That's when it became the worst day of her entire life.

Alyssa insisted on wearing her ballerina dress to pick-up Amanda from school yesterday. I compromised and said yes to the dress and no to the slutty princess shoes which turned out to be a wise decision considering the impromptu playdate that followed Amanda prefers to just call it a "date" as she's getting a bit old for playdates. And because it was with Brandon and any girl would be lucky to have a date with him.

A while ago Amanda and Alyssa were blocking the walkway in my bedroom and after I'd asked about six times for them to move so I could get to the bathroom while they completely ignored me, perhaps because they thought I was talking to someone else, I finally said loudly, "BOTH OF YOU MOVE IT NOW!!!" and then continued to rant about how I expect them to listen when I talk and haven't I told them a billion times not to block the walkway and...

That's when Alyssa looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Mommy why you tabby?" which when translated means, Mommy why are you crabby?" or more likely, "Mommy why are you acting like a crazy lunatic bitch when we were just trying to play Barbies?" I started laughing and then we all did, as we all repeated what became my favorite phrase of the day. "Why you tabby?" Great question.

A while after I'd put Alyssa to bed she came running out to see me and I said, "How about you go get back into bed now?" and she jumped into my lap and said, "How about NO?"

She's full of them this morning too. Before school she informed me that my butt was upside down and as I put her into her carseat she said, "It tastes like a dirty muffin in here."

A bit of an update

Here's the scoop on what's going on here lately. We're all okay other than the same crummy cold and nasty cough that just keeps going around and around and around in our house.

Amanda has already started blaming me for everything that goes wrong in her life. I didn’t expect this to happen for a few years but apparently she’s very advanced in the highly emotional drama and angst department.

She'll say,“I wish I were in the early class instead of the late one.” I know, Sweetie but it was up to the teacher. I told her we could do either one and she decided. There’s nothing we can do about it now. “It’s all your fault.” Well no, it’s not really. “I’m going to blame it all on you anyway.” Okay.

And…

“I really want to go to the drive-in tonight, Mommy.” I know, Sweetie, I really wanted to go too but your Dad says no, so we’ll go another time, okay? “It’s all your fault.” But I’m the one who wanted to go in the first place. I’ve been trying to talk your Daddy into it all day. “I know, but you couldn’t. So it’s all your fault.” Okay.

Wow. What have I done to this kid? I told you she’s a teenager disguised as a five-year-old. I’m telling myself that she’s practicing the whole mad thing on me because she feels safe with me or something. Because it’s easier to tell myself that than to write a Dear Dr . Phil, I think I must be a bad mom. Can you help me? And while you're at it, can you come to my house and plant cameras everywhere so the entire world can see how inept I am at this mothering stuff instead of just the people reading my blog? letter.

Other than that, things are not too exciting. Though I have to admit there’s a lot of drama around getting dressed these days. And I'm not even talking about me. Because I'm not about to admit to the entire world wide web that I'm packing some extra pounds right now that are making it NOT FUN to get dressed. I'm talking about my little sweeties. Both of them. And I say that through my smiling gritted teeth.

Amanda is all about wanting to be a grown-up right now. Look like a grown-up, dress like a grown-up, act like a grown-up. All she wants to wear are jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt, preferably one of her three grown-up looking ones, a headband in her hair and pink sketchers on her feet. (The pics are of her in her "uniform".) Fine, whatever. But it's getting warmer. So I bought her these cute little denim capris. They’re JEANS only shorter. so I thought she’d love ‘em.

“I AM NOT WEARING THOSE THINGS! Those are BABY PANTS, Mommy.” When I pointed out to her that Kailani, Luciana and Ariella were all wearing baby pants that day she said, "Yeah well they can but I NEVER will." And the next day when her fashion diva friend, Holly, showed up in them I said, "OH! Look… Holly’s wearing baby pants! Doesn’t she look cute?”

“Yes Mom. They’re cute….ON HOLLY. But I’m never wearing those things!"

Alyssa, after going through a month or two of being satisfied to wear whatever dorky thing I put on her has returned to being extremely picky too. It seemed to start the day I decided to try on her Easter dress. Yes, in retrospect, that was a really stupid move. Considering all the trouble it has caused, what difference would it really have made if on Easter morning her pink sundress had turned out to be too big? Couldn't I have just scotch-taped it to her shoulders like any other decent mother and been done with it? OH NO. I had to be sure that it fit so I could buy a different size if not.

But Alyssa doesn't seem to understand the concept of "trying it on" yet. So after we put on her cute little dress and her cute little pink and green matching sandals and proclaimed her the cutest thing on the planet earth as she twirled around and around and around the living room, for some reason she did not want to take the dress off. She pitched a fit at just the mention of it. A BIG fit. She wanted to keep her pity dress on. PITY! PITY! I PITY!!!

Now she's all persnickety about everything she wears. “I hate this shirt!!!” she will say as she frantically tries to take it off twisting and turning as she tries to remove it as quickly as possible like it's burning her skin or something. “I hate this shirt, I hate these pants...”

Why the hate? Can't we crank it down a level? Hate is a pretty strong word. Especially for a harmless purple shirt that you loved only an hour ago.

Mostly all she wants to wear are pretty dresses. Apparently Amanda went through the same phase at this age because when I dragged out a box of Amanda's old warm weather clothes for Alyssa I was thrilled to see that we are now rolling in pretty dresses. No occasion is too small to get all dressed up. Going to pick up Amanda from school? Want pity dress. Going to the grocery store or Home Depot? Need pity dress! Going to bed? Can I sleep in my pity dress?

There's a whole lot of pity going on around here.

Oh and Shutterfly is featuring my "50 Reasons I Love You" scrapbook on their home page! How cool is that? Of course the first thing Scott wanted to know was, "How much are they paying you?" Umm, nothing. "Well what did you say to them?"

"I said, 'Thank you!'" 'cause how cool is that?

I lub you too

Alyssa is in this super-sweet-most-adorable-child-on-earth phase. To be sure of this, I just looked over at her as she’s napping next to me and noted that perhaps some would not find the snot-bubble blowing in and out of her nose adorable, exactly… but other than that she’s pretty cute. She’s very much into giving hugs and kisses and saying, “I lub you.” Not just saying it but often yelling it from room to room.

Here’s how it goes: I disappear from the room for more than three seconds. Alyssa cries out, “Mommy? Mommy? Mommmmmmmm-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?” If she doesn’t hear me respond immediately (and I have that kind of voice that is so quiet even when I’m yelling, that NOBODY EVER SEEMS TO HEAR ME) she will reach the same level of complete hysteria as if, say, I have moved to another country without leaving a forwarding address and she’s never ever going to see me again. (I've thought about it but I wouldn't actually do it, okay?)

Me: “Yes Alyssa, I’m right here.”

Alyssa: Very matter of factly, completely hiding the terror in her voice just a second before: “I LUB YOU!”

Me: “I love you too!”

Alyssa: “Awwwwwwwww!”

The awwwww part gets me every time because that’s what I said the first three thousand times she caught me by surprise with an “I lub you.” Now she has claimed it as her own. So it appears she thinks it’s just the sweetest thing ever that I’ve said I love her. Mommy loves me. Awwwwwww…

Unfortunately it’s not just about me though. She loves everyone. All the expected people, like her sister, her dad, her grandparents and other family. But she also loves Bob, our next door neighbor. Random friends who she sees only occasionally, Amanda’s teacher, the cashier at the grocery store… She’d probably love the UPS man if he wouldn’t run back to his truck so quickly.

She’s also into giving tons of hugs and kisses and again, for a while there I thought it was all about me. Awwwwww, she loves her mommy… until I saw her kissing the wall in the hallway. Umm. Okay, this isn’t about me at all.

Why can’t it ever just be about ME?

The Christmas Report

Though our house is even more of a disaster than usual, we're still totally in the Christmas spirit around here. Well at least the girls and I are. Can't speak for Scott who has sometimes been confused with the Grinch in years past. He's at least going along with it as much as he can stand. A couple of nights ago, after the girls had their baths and were in their jammies, I filled their sippy cups with hot chocolate, dragged out the Nat King Cole Christmas CD and we were going to drive around to look at the lights. Scott decided to go with us! I was thrilled but said, "You're not going to rush us are you?" and he said "No! How 'bout we go out for 15 minutes and then come back?" Ummm... are you kidding? He wasn't. He was a great sport and lasted quite a while. Just as he was about to overdose we dropped him off back at the house and drove around a bit longer.

Some of you know that last year I was all excited about starting a new Gingerbread House tradition. That was before I'd actually made a Gingerbread House. It seemed like the kind of thing I would like until I actually tried it with two small children as helpers. It was one of those kits too, so it should have been easy but it wasn't. I've blocked out most of the ugly details but I do remember mumbling, NEVER AGAIN to myself pretty much the whole time.

Last weekend Scott and Alyssa went to a party while Amanda and I stayed home (Amanda had been sick and we didn't want to expose the whole party to cooties). Amanda was horribly disappointed about missing the party so when I spotted the gingerbread house kit at the grocery store I grabbed it and we had our own little party which included making a gingerbread house. In the spirit of embracing imperfection I told her she was in charge and could do absolutely anything she wanted. At the grocery store this sweet old lady saw the kit in my cart and started talking about how neat it was. She said a relative had made several of them as gifts and that most of them have lasted five years. She said the secret was keeping them in a cool dry place. I told her I have two small children and I’d be happy if ours lasted five minutes.

So Amanda and I actually had fun making our house. I let her do her own thing. Didn't say a word when she decided to use every single piece of yellow candy all in one spot. Right now I'm still feeling really positive about the whole Gingerbread House thing, but Monday I'm going to school and helping Amanda's class bake gingerbread and Tuesday they're building houses. So we'll see if I return to my NEVER AGAIN thinking after that.

We went to visit Santa last week too. Some of you may know that I have a weird fear of the whole "Mall Santa experience" but last week we braved it...and in the short version, let's just say that Santa obviously got the job because of his realistic white hair and beard and not for his charming personality. He called Alyssa "Booger Baby" after she put her finger in her nose. Alyssa then refused to sit on his lap to which Santa said, "What? Are you mad at me ‘cause I called you "Booger Baby?" That's when Alyssa scowled at him and said, "I HATE Santa," and there was no way she was going to sit on his lap. So now we've done it. We’ve pissed off Santa and I have no idea if Amanda will be getting her guitar (the only thing she asked for) or if Alyssa will be getting her baby doll. If it's up to me Santa's not getting any cookies and milk at our house and I may write an angry letter to Mrs. Claus. Call my kid, "Booger Baby"... Bah Humbug...

Finally an update - The Alyssa Report

I know, I disappeared again. But since I've got a TON of stuff to do to get ready for Christmas, what better way to procrastinate than by blogging? I started writing yesterday and didn't stop 'til I reached about 6 pages. Either I don't talk at all or I can't shut up. So anyway, in order not to overwhelm anyone who may actually ever bother to still check in on the-blog-that-never-gets-updated, I thought I'd break it down into smaller pieces so I don't completely overwhelm you. It's feast or famine here. Sorry! So first the update on Alyssa...

She turned two in October. Really, extremely two. She has a mind of her own, knows what she wants (I believe she makes her choices based on finding out what I'm trying to give her and then immediately deciding she wants something else entirely) and will go to any extremes to get it. She’s completely fearless and despite my constant attempts to stop her, she has developed an extreme fondness for heights and once she climbs up she doesn’t want to climb down, she wants to JUMP down. It’s also getting nearly impossible to get her to keep her clothes on. If early childhood behavior is any indicator of future career paths I’m terrified she’s either going to be a stuntwoman or a stripper.

Getting dressed can be a huge battle too. I'm a pick-your-battles kind of girl and "Get dressed NOW and wear exactly what I want" is not a battle I choose to fight unless we're going somewhere important anytime soon. But at those times we often go through the "I hate this shirt, I hate those shoes, I hate clean di-pah... Want udder (other) shirt (preferably dirty), udder shoes (preferably Amanda's), want udder di-pah (I just got this one the way I like it, why are you taking it off???)" And then five minutes after going through the trauma that is Getting Alyssa Dressed, she will run through the living room singing happily, "I nakey, I nakey!!!" Yes I see that.

I swear to you that as I was typing this she started stripping right in front of me... I said, "Alyssa DO NOT take your clothes off. Do not take your clothes off. If you take your clothes off, you can't go with me to pick up Amanda." She disappeared for a second, returned completely naked and I said sadly, "Oh no! Now you can't go with me to pick up Amanda because you're naked!" So she went to put on a pair of shoes and returned to proudly announce, "Okay! I ready to pick up Uh-Nanda!" I said, "But you don't have any clothes on. You can't go pick up Amanda without clothes on. You'll be too cold!" So she ran off and brought me her jacket and said "Okay, now I ready to pick up Uh-Nanda!"

Her language is just taking off, which is so cool, but it also means a whole new bunch of headaches. If she's trying to tell you something and you can't figure out what she's talking about, it can get ugly. And the HATE word. I've been monitoring all of our speech patterns to see who is responsible for that little gem that is her all purpose tool to express her unhappiness with any given situation. (So far we're all guilty, Amanda hates almost every kind of food on the planet, Scott hates his job and I hate ants. By the way, know of any surefire kid-safe ways to get rid of ants? I HATE THEM! But back to Alyssa...) I imagine if she had the words she would say, "Why are you so stupid? Why don't you know what I want?"

Instead if I say, "It's time to eat lunch," she says, "NO, I hate lunch." If it's time to go to bed, it's "NO, I hate bed." And it can be something that she loved only a second before. Doesn't matter. The other day I was in a time crunch. Can't remember now what the heck I had to do but I had a limited amount of time to do it and I needed some quiet so I was happily going to let PBS entertain her while I did it.

I turned on Sesame Street. "No I hate Ehmo Wuh! (Elmo's World), wan Bonny (Barney), so I turned on Barney. "NOOOOOOOO!!! I hate Bonny! Wan Ehmo Wuh!" I went back and forth between the two with the same response and then she said, "No, I wan Cheh-wy!" Sherry? "No, Hate Sherry." Cherry? "NO!" Jerry? "YESSSS! Wan Cheh-wy!!!" Oh thank goodness!

You may wonder why I even bother trying to figure out what she wants at times like these. It's because if and when I get it right, I am met with all the overwhelming gratitude and pure delight a 2-year-old can muster. It's as if I have just performed some kind of breath-taking miracle and I don't know about you but I don't get that kind of appreciation elsewhere in my everyday life.

So Alyssa and I had a happy bonding moment over "Jerry" and over this major breakthrough in our mother-daughter communication and then, sadly, I had to ask, "Who is Jerry? Jerry Seinfeld? Jerry Lewis? Tom and Jerry? Jerry Springer? You wanna watch Jerry Springer???" The trauma started again and I finally turned Barney back on and fought the urge to say, "Look kid, Barney ATE JERRY. Jerry's not around anymore. Barney is it for you. I'm going to curl up into a ball and cry now. You watch Barney!" but instead I just said, "You can either watch Barney or I'm turning the TV off, to which she sweetly replied, "Okay Mommy, I love Bonny."

Slideshow of Alyssa pics

http://www.jumpcut.com/view?id=63BB27820DA611DC9D58000423CF4092
If there are problems with the audio, try waiting 15-20 seconds and then restart the slideshow.

Sprinkler Fun (for some)

I sometimes tell myself that scrapbooking helps me to be a better parent. In the face of minor catastrophes like chocolate syrup all over the carpet or crayon on the walls, some parents take deep calming breaths. I take pictures. (Often deep breaths too.)

But if I'm going to give my scrapbooking habit credit for making me more patient, I figure I need to admit that it also makes for some less than stellar parental moments... like when Scott was fixing the sprinklers on Sunday and Alyssa ran in and then realized it was a really bad idea and just stood there, horrified as the sprinklers sprayed her again and again.

Did I run to her rescue? Yes. But first I ran for the camera. Oh come on, it's not like she was trapped under a piece of furniture. It was just a little cold water on a very warm spring day.

To prove that she survived the trauma completely unscathed, here's a pic I took of Alyssa a few minutes later, minus the wet clothes and with the addition of a swim diaper. And one of Amanda actually enjoying herself in the very same sprinklers.

It's all about the shoes

I took these pictures several weeks ago when Amanda had gone to the movies with her dad. Moments after Alyssa uttered the word “bye-bye,” she headed straight for the dress-up box. I figured she recognized it as her big opportunity to do whatever she wanted with all the clothes and jewelry instead of being dressed up at the whims of her big sister.

So I helped her into a tutu and offered up some glamorous accessories for her perusal. But Alyssa didn’t care about tiaras or phony pearls or diamonds or even fairy wings. She almost seemed annoyed at my suggestions because all she cared about were these hot pink shoes.

And of course they were WAY too big for her tiny feet and would fall off if she so much as wiggled a toe. So I spent what felt like an eternity putting the shoes on her feet, then listening to her squeal with glee until a second later when the shoes would fall off and she would screech angrily and shove them at me while holding out her feet so I could put them right back on. We repeated this same cycle again and again and again. What is it with my kids and their fascination with shoes anyway? They didn’t get it from me.

Anyway, I decided I needed to post these pictures the other day when I told Alyssa to go get her shoes because we were going bye-bye and guess which shoes she picked out? Yup, these hot pink plastic ones. A brave fashion statement, I think, especially since we were just going to Costco.


Oh and remember how I recently pointed out a picture of Alyssa that seemed to show a teenager lurking inside of her? Well if that was her "inner-teenager", then the photo at right is her "inner-little-old-lady with attitude". I don't know if it's the flowers on her head or the way she has her mouth pursed in a way that looks like she forgot to put her false teeth in, but the photo makes me laugh every time I look at it.

The latest

Alyssa is seven months old now. Can you believe it? Having her on my lap is no longer the peaceful experience that it used to be. Gone are the days when she would lay there blissfully happy for as long as I could hold her just smiling up at me with her big drooly smile. Now, she wiggles and squirms and demands constant entertainment.

She loves to be held up so she can stand or bounce and she's always digging her sharp little toes into my thighs. Reading with her in my lap is a thing of the past too because she will happily eat my book or magazine. She's forever trying to get her hands on my laptop too. I made the mistake of sharing a glass of water with her a couple of times and since then, she grabs for whatever i'm drinking as if she fully expects her share. Coffee, margarita, whatever... she doesn't understand why I won't just give her a sip.

She has a touch of separation anxiety now. She cries when I leave the room or if she happens to see me passing through. I just wish she could understand me when I explain that I'm only going to the bathroom, I'm not leaving the country.

She's still a very happy baby though. She now claps very enthusiastically when we say "Yay!" or if she sees someone else clapping. Getting her to stop crying is sometimes as easy as gasping dramatically as if it's shocking to me that she would even consider crying. She will smile or laugh and I will feel grateful that she responded to this trick while simultaneously imagining her in therapy at age 43, saying, "My mother never allowed me to express my emotions."

Alyssa is always on the move now. She gets pretty far just by rolling but she's also just started doing that wounded soldier crawl where she half crawls, half drags herself. So when she sees something she wants, she goes for it and she goes fast! And often just as Alyssa is about to grasp whatever it is she was working so hard to get to, Amanda the, ever-watchful big sister, lets out a blood-curtling scream and pulls the item from her sister's grasp no matter how harmless the item is. Alyssa doesn't seem to mind though. She just basks in her big sister's attention. Amanda plays with her and helps keep her entertained. Sometimes when I'm holding Alyssa, Amanda throws her arms around both of us and announces, "Group hug!"

Scott hasn't returned to work yet, though the contracting job is still in the works. He's had a few projects to keep him busy though. This seems to be the year for new kitchen appliances. First the dishwasher died in January and then the oven died last week. So we're now the proud owners of a brand new oven. We're probably getting a new roof in the next few weeks and also painting the outside of our house.

Both of the girls are going to be flower girls in my niece, Karyn's, July wedding and I've been working on finding dresses for them and the other two little girls. I hope I'm not breaking some cardinal rule by sharing a picture of Amanda in her dress. I figure it's okay, since she's not the bride. The other girls will wear the same, but I'm still searching for something similar for Alyssa…She's more of an honorary flower girl anyway since she obviously can't walk down the aisle.

We spent a few days at my mother-in-law's over Mother's Day weekend. That's Amanda chasing swans one night when we went for a walk. I love that picture because it reminds me so much of my niece, Katie, when she was around that age and we took her to the park and gave her bread to feed the ducks. I said, "Now go slow and be really quiet so you don't scare them away," at which point she took about three very quiet steps forward and then took off at a full-speed run, yelling at the top of her lungs. Katie's way was always way more fun than mine. Maybe the ducks didn't think so, but I did.