Tooth Fairy Duty

I was on tooth fairy duty last night, which means I didn't get much sleep. It was my fault because after quite the long battle, I finally bribed Alyssa with a movie at bedtime to get her to let me take her Band-Aid off so I could clean her icky stitches. (Yeah, I'll have to write a post about those. She stayed perfectly still and didn't make a peep when the doctor was stitching her up, but try to get a Band-Aid off of her and you would think I was trying to cut her toes off with a pair of scissors.) The thing is, I'd taken Benadryl, which totally knocks me out, to deal with the mysterious rash covering my entire body. (Between the ER rooms and Disneyland, it's a small world full of yucky germs. And yeah, I'll have to write a post about those too.)

So the plan was: take Benadryl, put the girls to bed, go to bed and sleeeeep. Instead it was: take Benadryl, do 14 other things I'd forgotten about, argue with Alyssa over a Band-Aid for probably half an hour while in a Benadryl haze, finally bribe her with a movie at bedtime, which was already way later than it should have been. Then have Amanda suddenly remember she had to write a note for the tooth fairy, then check every 10 minutes to see if Alyssa has fallen asleep yet, then wait 10 more minutes to make sure she's REALLY asleep so I can finally do tooth fairy duty because I know there's no way I will be remembering it in the middle of the night. Alyssa watched the whole darn movie of course, which is why I'm exhausted today.

I'm even more paranoid than usual because Amanda nearly caught the tooth fairy the last time she visited. It was about 2 AM when Scott got a phone call from work and I jumped half out of my skin because in my mind, 2am phone calls = a death in the family. I was annoyed at first (What? Nobody died?) knowing it would take forever to get back to sleep and then suddenly remembered: tooth fairy duty!!! That is why I have to do it before I go to bed. The whole I'll just lay down for a few minutes thing may not end well. So I did my TF thing and, of course, Amanda woke up, mid-visit. Turns out I think faster on my feet than I would have guessed. The tooth fairy got away before she was recognized.

Amanda's usual fairy leaves a lovely sprinkling of glittery fairy dust. Her very first fairy left fairy dust not just on her pillow but all over the entire backyard! I personally thought it resembled frost glittering in the sunlight but Amanda KNEW it was fairy dust and has been quietly disappointed in the laziness of the fairies she's gotten since then.

Hullooooo, she leaves a trail of dust and sometimes a certificate in beautiful, scrolly lettering. Excuse the hell out of her for not making the yard sparkle.

Some people think there is only one tooth fairy, like there's one Santa Claus or one Easter Bunny. I don't buy that. I mean Santa and the Bunny each have one day a year. And then a whole boatload of vacation time. But the tooth fairy, I can't imagine how ONE person, err fairy could handle that job, what with the zillions of children all over the world popping out teeth at such an alarming rate.

So yeah, I actually think there are a bunch of tooth fairies, and that they're all totally different, though all approximately three inches tall.

This explains why Brandon has a boy fairy, why Adam only gets cash, never a certificate or fairy dust. And why Luciana's fairies are soooo much better than ours 'cause the certificates she gets are much cooler AND Luciana gets to choose from a chart which fairy she wants (all better than ours, by the way) plus the fairy leaves money AND gifts.

I'm not sure we'll always get the same fairy every time either, 'cause fairies have lives too. They go on vacation, they work different shifts, they get sick and have personal issues. They might even take a long unexplained leave of absence and we might get stuck with a crappy temp or we might luck out and get some fab overachiever who typically works in another county.

Sometimes I like to imagine the fairies at performance review time. I like to think about the well-paying over-achievers who leave teeny tiny notes written in teeny tiny calligraphy stuffed into teeny tiny envelopes next to brand new ipods getting big raises and promotions, while the ones who toss a quarter in the general direction of the pillow and spend the rest of the night chain smoking cigarettes and watching porn getting fired or at least put on probation.

For the record I think our normal fairy is slightly above average, what with the glitter and the certificates. However she is a terrible procrastinator and has asked me NEVER to remind Amanda that it's time to leave the tooth for her. She likes her sleep okay?

Oh! Speaking of sleep, the best part of this story is that after torturing myself to stay awake last night, Amanda didn't even remember to check to see if the tooth fairy had visited! She left for school and never even checked. I didn't remind her to because I didn't want her going back into their room and waking Alyssa.

I do sort of hope that Amanda suddenly remembered after arriving at school and got to experience her own torture … the sweet agony of waiting, certain that by the time she gets home her little sister will have stolen her money and destroyed any fairy evidence. Is it wrong that that the thought of that makes me feel a little better? I can't help it. I'm mean when I don't get enough sleep.

posted from my iphone

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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?

Five is the new fifteen

Can I just tell you that I gave birth to the most delightful 5-year-old on the entire planet? No really, I did. Amanda is so wise and funny and adorable. I hate to brag, but she is simply charming and an absolute joy to be around.

Unless you piss her off. Then you need to just clear the room. Duck for cover. Get out of her way as fast as you can because it will not be pretty.

Unfortunately, as the one who gave birth to her, it is my job to piss her off on a very regular basis. No, you can’t have candy for breakfast. Yes, you DO have to go to bed now even if you’re not a little bit tired. No, you cannot watch "Desperate Housewives". No you cannot skip dinner and move straight to dessert. No it is not okay to hit your sister even if she just hit you. No we cannot call Grandma again. Her ear needs time to recover from when you almost talked it off an hour ago.

She has mastered the art of the pout, the dramatic sigh, the door-slam, the eye-roll, the smirk, the angry stomp, the guilt trip, the tantrum and the silent treatment. She is also very skilled at achieving shock and indignation over any punishment she receives. She often tries to negotiate the terms of said punishment.

Me: Amanda, time-out now, five minutes.
Amanda: WHAT??? Four minutes!
Me: Six minutes. Go NOW.
Amanda: Five minutes!
Me: I highly recommend you go NOW, Amanda.
Amanda: You are SO mean! (sticks tongue out)
Me: I know. Make that seven minutes.

How does she come up with this stuff? Are there classes offered during Kindergarten recess? I can’t help picturing a group of 5 and 6-year-olds gathered around the swing set brainstorming ideas for how to slowly wear their parents down.

“I know, I know! Ask for what you want while they’re on the phone!”

“Oh! Or cooking dinner.”

“Or trying to get your baby sister to sleep!”

“Yes, good! And how many times do we ask?”

“Once!”

(Looks of pure disdain and lots of eye rolling are aimed at the poor kid who came up with that dumb answer)

“Anybody else?”

“A hundred! No, a BILLION-TRILLION!!!”

(A round of applause for that kid.)

“A BILLION-TRILLION! Yes! That’s the right answer. We keep asking until they give in. We peck away at them slowly, like little tiny birds. We CAN wear them down. We WILL wear them down. We NEVER give up until we reach our goal.

(Applause, high-fives, woo-hooing all over the place.)

“Okay people, get some sleep tonight… we have a big day tomorrow. We’ll be working on whining and back-talk.”

The fact that Amanda is already so good at all this stuff scares the crap out of me. I didn't learn or use some of those techniques until I was at least 12 or 13. When I think about the teenage years I shudder in fear. Sometimes when Amanda is in a time-out I wonder if it would be okay to just hide under the table until she graduates from high school.

But then she gets out of time-out and returns to her normal sweet self and I think, okay, I can do this.

Not yet

I guess I need to face the truth: I’m not ready for a big kid bed yet. When it was time to part with the crib I thought I was so lucky because I wouldn’t have to deal with the “end of the crib era” trauma that most parents do. As babies (and often still today), Amanda and Alyssa slept with me so they didn’t spend that much time in the crib, other than for naps or the occasional nights when Scott insisted we try the crib. So I wasn’t that attached to the crib as a symbol of their baby-dom.

Amanda has only slept in the top bunk once since we got the loft bed. And though she seemed perfectly happy up there, she hasn’t been anxious to do it again. Scott tries to talk her into sleeping up there every night and for some reason it makes me a little nuts. He’s very melodramatic and does this oh fine then if you don’t want to sleep up there I guess we’ll take the bed back thing. I get a little gleeful even though I know he doesn’t mean it. I don’t understand why he’s pushing it. I don’t get what the rush is. Am I the only one who thinks she’s too little to be sleeping on the top bunk? What’s the hurry?

The second night we had the loft bed Amanda told Scott she didn’t want to sleep up there because she wanted to cuddle with Mommy. So she climbed into her old bed and I laid down next to her and then Alyssa jumped aboard and carefully wedged herself between us like she always does, saying, “MY mommy!” and then we read a couple chapters of Stuart Little until Amanda’s breathing slowed and I thought she was asleep and Alyssa was too but I kept reading for another few pages until I could be sure.

And then I laid there thinking this is it. This is what I’m not ready to give up yet. It’s this kind of stuff that you don’t really notice you’re missing until it’s gone. Like the pacifiers that hang around in the drawer and you suddenly wonder when did Alyssa give those up? Or the stuffed giraffe you find at the bottom of the toy box, the one that Amanda, at one time, couldn’t sleep without. When did she stop needing Giraffe?

I’m so careful about noticing and recording the firsts: first tooth, first words, first steps, but it’s the lasts that I’m afraid will escape my notice and it’s the lasts I think I’ll end up really missing. Someday I’ll wonder when was the last time they ran to me so I could magically kiss their boo-boos away or when was the last time I rocked them to sleep? The idea that those last times could just slip away from me without even being noticed, let alone treasured, makes me sad.

I closed Stuart Little and slowly, quietly, picked up Alyssa and turned to tip-toe out of the bedroom, when Amanda’s eyes popped wide open and she said, “Kiss?” I kissed her goodnight and she rolled over to go back to sleep and that's when I knew for sure that I’m not ready to have her up on the top bunk where it will be tough to even hug her goodnight, let alone snuggle next to her while reading her a goodnight story.

Could somebody please explain to my husband that I’m just not ready for a big girl bed yet?

A Day in the Life, 5 years ago

I can't believe I'm actually posting this on the world wide web. Five years ago today, I kept a detailed log of my day. It's a testament to my scatterbrained ways, my lack of a routine, and my lack of housekeeping skills. No big suprises there, huh? It's embarassing, but what's new? It's also boring and I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than read it. No really, come on... Go turn on some educational TV or go for a walk already! If you insist on reading it, then suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Since 2003, I've had February 19 marked on my electronic calendar every year thinking I'd do another "day in the life" to see how our lives have changed, but I've never gotten around to it. I'm finally attempting it today. I doubt it can be too much more embarassing than the one from 5 years ago so I'll probably post it one of these days.

By the way, the pictures below weren't necessarily taken that day. I just picked a few from the month.

Thursday, February 21, 2003

The other day, Scott suggested that I keep a log of everything I do so I can find a better, faster way of doing things and put together a schedule. This, of course, made me want to kill him with my bare hands. It was in the midst of a discussion about how he doesn’t understand how I can be tired because I should just be taking naps every day. When I said I didn’t have time, he said of course I did. The nerve! No doubt he thinks I spend my days lounging on the sofa. How does he expect me to keep to a schedule with a 5-month-old baby around?

What upset me even more was that I really thought I’d been doing a great job, trying a new recipe or two every week and keeping the house cleaner than it ever has been. Since I’ve been on leave, I've decided that I should look at this as a job. So in addition to taking care of Amanda, I figure I should make an effort to keep the house relatively clean and make dinner on a regular, well at least semi-regular basis.

I’ve even been patiently working my way through Scott's list of complaints. Actually I’ve worked my way through almost the entire house wondering if his list will ever end but even he admits it never will. The house could be pristine and he would be saying, “Is that a speck of dust under the refrigerator?” He insists there is always room for improvement. I insist that perfection is not my goal and never will be. I want it to be clean enough, but I really don’t care if the cabinets are perfect. I’d rather spend time with Amanda than spend time organizing the bathroom.

Anyway, so like I said, his suggestion ticked me off, but still, I thought the idea of keeping a log might have some validity. Of course I would never tell him that, but the truth is that often the hours do seem to run together. I get to the end of the day and think I haven’t accomplished anything. Sometimes it feels like all I do is feed Amanda, change her, bathe her, etc. So I thought it might be interesting to keep track of where the hours actually go. Humiliating as it is, it might be fun for Amanda to read someday. I just have to hope that Scott never gets a hold of it.

Wednesday, February 19, 2003

8:15am Breast-feed Amanda, change diaper. Do dishes from the night before. Take recycling outside, spray new bleach spray on sink and countertop stains and straighten up living room.

9:15 Amanda falls asleep. Turn on computer and the Dr. Phil show in living room.

9:17 Pause Dr. Phil to search for camera battery charger. Check diaper bag in Amanda’s room…nope… check duffle bag in your room that hasn’t been unpacked from last week’s trip to Monterey/Irvine. Work quietly so you don’t wake Amanda. Discover baby bottles, pacifiers, a box of wheat thins and the battery charger. Plug in battery on way to kitchen with other stuff. Admire how sink is sparkling. Bleach is miraculous! Decide to try bleach on guest bathroom sink. Want to spray shower in your bathroom but don’t want fumes to kill baby who is sleeping peacefully in your bed.

9:26 Unpause Dr. Phil, restart computer because Internet connection isn’t working.

9:35 Decide to work on eBay stuff. Start looking through one of the huge tubs of cameras and become overwhelmed at the confusion of it. Go to bathroom. Stop to admire the way brown gunk behind faucet has started to disappear, spray with more bleach.

9:36 Amanda is awake. Decide immediately that there is no way she is going back to sleep. She is too wide-awake, happily playing with her toes. Snuggle for a while, discuss your plans for the day, play silly games with her and then carry her to living room, put her on blanket surrounded by toys. Return to bedroom where you clean puddle of spit-up off carpet. Feel relieved that she managed to miss her clothing and yours. Return to bathroom and search for old toothbrush to scrub behind faucet. Feel horrified at the amount of gunk behind faucet. Wonder if mother-in-law has noticed. Realize that you may have never cleaned this spot since moving into house 3 years ago. Wonder why you care. Turn on fan because perhaps bleach fumes are causing permanent brain damage. Refill liquid soap. Check on baby and then go to your bathroom and spray down shower with bleach. Feel annoyed about it because Scott asked you to spray the shower when he spotted you with the bleach earlier. Decide you should feel grateful that he usually cleans the shower since you hate it so much. Return to kitchen to put bleach away. Check for gunk behind faucet. None there but notice that in comparison to sparkling sink, stovetop looks really gross. Spray generously with scrubbing bubbles bathroom cleaner. Realize with complete relief that you are probably not turning into obsessive housewife, but rather that you are procrastinating on the eBay stuff. Check on baby who is happily eating giraffe. Scrub down stovetop and vow to put away bleach for the rest of day.

9:50 Attempt to feed Amanda oatmeal for the first time. Hope she likes it better than rice cereal. She doesn’t. As you try to feed her, she tries to eat her bib, her chair, her hand, your hand, everything but her cereal. She flatly refuses to eat any cereal. Try some of it yourself to see if it’s really all that bad. After all, she was right about the baby cough medicine. After telling her over and over that it was cherry-flavored and yummy, yummy, yummy, you tried it yourself to discover that it truly was nasty. The oatmeal is really not bad though. Definitely edible, though you wouldn’t eat it yourself. But someone like Amanda, who would eat her Daddy’s shoes if you allowed her, should really enjoy it, you’d think. Finally you give up. Wash as much as you can off of her face and hands, give her a pacifier and then clean the oatmeal off her chair, the floor, and the side of your hutch. Cuddle with her on the couch for a bit. Notice that her nails are getting really long again already. Didn’t you just clip them yesterday? Go in search of clippers. To keep her entertained, let her rip out handfuls of your hair with one hand while you clip the nails on her other.

10:20 Hear instant message warning. Put Amanda on blanket with toys and start chatting with Cara. When Amanda fusses, comfort her. Play with her a bit while continuing to chat. Discuss the best place to buy jeans, Valentine’s Day, Bryan’s new girlfriend.

10:50 Amanda falls asleep on blanket next to you. Remember you need to thaw chicken for dinner. Realize that rather than skinless boneless chicken breasts, you bought split chicken breast with ribs. Get confused about how many you need for your recipe. Put chicken back in freezer and return to living room to continue instant messaging Cara. Talk about her relationship problems, dating, and her shriveling ovaries. (Click here for up-to-date information related to Cara's ovaries.)

11:20 Amanda wakes up. Change diaper and put her in her gymini. Jiggle toys around in hopes of keeping her entertained for a bit. When that doesn’t work, take off her socks so she can play with her toes. Feel surge of pride when she manages to get them into her mouth. Praise her like crazy and then picture yourself getting a phone call from her fourth-grade teacher saying, “She’s been eating her toes in class again.” Decide to cut back on the praise a bit.

11:40 Stop chatting with Cara and give Amanda your full focus. Hear non-lady-like noises coming from diaper region. Decide it’s a good time for the two of you to take a shower. Gather her stuff: clean blanket, clothes, diaper, wipes, towel.

12:00pm Move Amanda into her crib. Turn on aquarium, wind up mobile, and go take a shower. Truly enjoy first two minutes and then wonder if Amanda is okay. Think about article Scott emailed you recently where a new mother asked if it was okay to take a 5-minute shower, leaving infant alone and know-it-all nurse practitioner with 20+ years of experience and probably no children of her own says that under no circumstances should you EVER leave your child alone, that you should take showers when someone is there to watch the baby and if that is not possible, say perhaps you’re a single mother with no friends and the stench from your unwashed pits begins to threaten the health of your baby, then and only then, should you risk taking a shower and then you should only do it if you can bring the baby into the bathroom with you or leave her right outside the door where you can see her at all times. Guess that this same nurse practitioner would be completely opposed to the idea of letting your baby sleep in bed with you because of the possibility that you might crush her in her sleep or at the very least, destroy her emotionally. Yes, much better to let her sleep down the hall in her own crib all night, as long as you don’t take a shower during that time.

12:09 Grab your robe and return to Amanda’s room to discover that, thank God, she has survived yet another one of your showers. She not only survived, but she is in fact squealing happily. Undress her while singing the naked baby song and then swoop her off to the your bathroom where you both do the naked baby dance in front of the mirror. Reassure yourself that she is laughing because she is having fun, not because she thinks you look funny naked. Get into the shower with her and sit cross-legged on floor with her in your lap. Begin washing baby as you sing a delightful medley of shower tunes. Vow once again to look up the words to “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair”. When she happily sticks out her tongue every time the shower sprayer gets near her face, let her drink a tiny bit of water, vowing that nobody needs to know. Wrap her in her towel and whisk her onto your bed where you wrap a warm blanket around her and run back for your robe. Get her dressed and as you do, remember that the chicken for tonight’s dinner is still in the freezer. Put Amanda in her ultrasaucer. Play with her for a minute and then return to kitchen where you spend several minutes trying to decide how much of the chicken you should thaw. Decide that this is why you don’t cook more often. It’s too complicated. Call Mom. Have long conversation about frozen chicken. Decide she’s probably right and then disregard her advice anyway. Put some chicken in the fridge to thaw. Admire sparkling sink again. Eat a banana and then a can of slimfast. Feel bad about horrible eating habits. Comfort yourself with a Reeses peanut butter cup or three.

1:00 Breastfeed Amanda. Clean spit-up off the front of her clean outfit. Move her back to gymini. Throw a load of whites into the washing machine. Turn off the Dr. Phil show, which has been paused since this morning, and turn on some music in hopes of stimulating Amanda’s brain. And yours.

1:50 She’s asleep again! Move her to crib. Remember that you’ve only had one cup of coffee today and you’re allowed two. Go to kitchen to pour coffee and wonder if someday they will determine that even two cups of coffee while breastfeeding will stunt her growth or lower her IQ. Use coffee to wash down prenatal vitamin and feel much better. Finally check email for the first time today. Get email from Darin asking if she’s done something to offend you. Assume it’s been way too long since you’ve talked to her, because she’s not the overly sensitive type. Wish she would get instant messaging. Write her a long, chatty email.

2:20 Amanda is awake and crying. Decide to change her diaper whether it needs it or not. Stand her up on her changing table holding her under her arms and watch as she does this new thing where she swivels her hips around and round. Wish you had a teeny baby hoola-hoop. Consider this may be her secret hidden talent and that you should do everything you can to cultivate it. Okay, not really.

2:45 Hear the mailman come and realize that you can’t go outside to get the mail because you’re still wearing your purple bathrobe and your hair has dried in the most unattractive way. Put Amanda down for some tummy-time and go to your room to get dressed. Try to remember how much time she has spent on her tummy today. Remember that Scott had her on her belly for a while in bed this morning. Think that with you as her Mommy, this child may never crawl. Suddenly picture her as a fifty-year-old immobile woman still laying on a blanket on your living room floor. Shudder at the image. Hear her crying in the other room. She hates tummy-time. Resist your urge to rescue too soon and finish getting dressed. Check on her again and notice that she is now playing happily. Return to bedroom. Make bed quickly and retrieve dirty diaper you left there earlier. Drop it in the diaper genie and hear Amanda getting fussy again. Return to living room. Feel startled to see her new stacking toy sitting next to her. You can’t remember putting it there. Wonder for a second if she waited for you to turn your back so she could run to her room and get her toy just to screw with you. Scoop her up and take her back to your room where you dance in front of the mirror until you’re exhausted. This is a guaranteed laugh for both of you. Put her on your bed and attempt to do something with your hair, nothing fancy, but just enough so you don’t scare the neighbors. Amanda starts whining, a habit she’s picked up only recently. Feel it grating on your nerves almost immediately. Wonder why whining bothers you so much when few things do. Decide it might be because it reminds you a bit of her father. Try propping her up on a pillow so she can watch you and see herself in the mirror. When that fails to stop the whining try singing whatever song comes to mind...”Just a spoonful of sugar” and then the theme song to “Green Acres”. Carry Amanda outside to get the mail. Feel minor disappointment over today’s mail selection, which is mainly junk except for a baby magazine that you only noticed recently focuses completely on the age your baby is. Vow to read this issue, which is all about your 5-month-old, before she is a 6-month-old. Shove it under the coffee table where you most certainly will forget all about it. Remember load of clothes in washer. Move to dryer.

3:45 Another instant message from Cara. She asks what you’re doing this evening and if you plan on watching The Bachelorette. Tonight’s the finale. Of course you’re watching it, you admit, shamefully. She wants to know if she can come over and offers to bring the makings for tacos. She’ll be here at 5:30. Chicken cancelled until further notice.

4:02 Straighten up living room. Drag the two huge two tubfuls of eBay cameras into Scott’s office. Put Amanda in her ultrasuaucer so she can watch you vacuum. Feel grateful the house is so clean. Doubt that Cara will notice your sparkling sink. Call Scott to tell him about your new dinner plans. He says, “I thought you were gonna make that chicken thing. I’m not really hungry. I had a big burrito for lunch.” Tell him you’ll make the chicken thing tomorrow and ask in a slightly annoyed tone if he intentionally had a big lunch because he knew you were cooking.

5:00 Breastfeed Amanda. Realize with disgust that you forgot to put breastpads in your bra, and as you feed her with your left boob, a large wet spot is growing on the front of your right. Curse your boobs. When will they ever learn? According to the breastfeeding book, it’s normal at first for one to leak while you’re feeding with the other. Maybe your boobs assume you have twins. But eventually your boobs are supposed to figure out that you’re only using one at a time and start behaving. Well it’s been over 5 months now. Perhaps your boobs are slow-learners, just like you, who can’t seem to remember the stupid breast pads after 5 months. HATE the new game Amanda has started playing with your nipple. She keeps her jaw clenched tightly on it and then quickly turns her head away from you while you can only watch in horror as your nipple stretches to a completely unnatural length. Tell her as sweetly as you can that if she tears off Mommy’s nipple, Mommy is not going to feed her anymore. Watch as she repeats game. And just think, it was so cute a couple of days ago when she played the same game with her pacifier. Holding her jaw shut and yanking the pacifier quickly out of her mouth so that it made a loud “POP”. It was so adorable that you and Scott cheered her on as she did it over and over again, not considering that she would later be using you as the pacifier and the loud pop would be replaced with a loud, “OUCH!”

5:20 Change wet bra and shirt and Amanda’s diaper.

5:35 Cara arrives. Put away food while she plays with Amanda. She says that her mom told her about every single moment of her trip with you to Monterey & Irvine. Including the parts Cara thought she might leave out, like her little panic attack when she couldn’t calm Amanda down when you and Scott went to a dinner party in Monterey and about how she puked in the car on the drive to Irvine. Apparently her mom said she understands you better now. You immediately start over-analyzing this statement. Assume it means something negative. You didn’t know she didn’t understand you before. Picture your mother-in-law with a confused expression on her face saying, “I just don’t understand her...” Wonder what on earth it was you did during your week together that made her understand you better. Picture your mother-in-law observing you with that same confused expression and then suddenly hear her saying, “OHHHhhhhhhh…it’s all starting to make sense now.” Ask Cara if she has any idea what on earth her mom was talking about and she says no, she was just really glad she’d gone. Said she felt like she’d really bonded with you. Oh. Bonded. Consider for a moment that perhaps when she said she understood you better she meant it in a good way. Nah. Decide to analyze every move you made later on.

6:00 You make dinner, well really, she makes dinner while you run around locating items for her and helping occasionally, well not much at all actually.

6:30 Leave dinner warming while waiting for Scott to return from his cat-sitting job at Ravi’s.

7:00 Amanda starts acting cranky. Her “mommy is about to eat” sensor is working just fine. Notice she’s rubbing her eyes. Lay her down in her crib and cross your fingers. Miraculously, she falls asleep instantly. She must be on her best behavior for Auntie Cara’s benefit. You eat dinner while watching the Bachelorette, a show where one single woman chooses the man she wants to marry from 25 single men. The fact that you watch the show is rather humiliating so, of course, it’s more fun to suffer this kind of humiliation with someone else. You all make fun of the bachelorette and the bachelors. You actually cry at the part where one of the final two bachelors asks for the bachelorette’s father’s permission to marry her if it comes to that. Your mother-in-law calls partway through the show to find out how her grandbaby is doing and to say how much she enjoyed the trip. She’s grateful you asked her to go with you. Says she feels like she got a chance to get to know you better and to spend quality time with Amanda. You decide not to bother analyzing the “understand her better” line from earlier. Pretty sure she meant it in a good way. She talks to Scott and then Cara while you do the dishes and clean the kitchen.

8:30 Amanda wakes up and you finally continue watching the Bachelorette. Scott talks endlessly through most of it and when it gets to the end where the bachelorette finally tells the guy she’s chosen him (and of course she completely shocks everyone by not choosing the guy we expected), Scott will NOT shut up. The bachelorette launches into this speech about how she’s dreamed about this day since she was a little girl, and Scott starts retching. You tell him not to wreck your moment, you get so little romance in your life as it is, but he can’t help himself. You threaten to rewind every time he opens his mouth and soon all of you - yes even you - are gagging at her sappy sweet speech which includes something like: “I see a future of dreams come true, I see smiles and laughter, I see babies and grandbabies, I see comfort and safety, I see a white dress...” You are getting to know this speech well because you rewind it many times as Scott continues to pretend to be all choked up saying stuff like, “I see smiles and puppies and dresses and more puppies… I see trees and clouds and smiles and babies and laughing puppies...” Though you want to kill him, it is rather amusing.

9:00 Cara leaves. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate and a pot of coffee for tomorrow. Amanda starts getting fussy. It’s bedtime and she’s hungry and you know you have a very limited amount of time before she starts screaming. You change her diaper and put on her jammies. The bad news: Scott wants to try feeding her oatmeal. Try to convince him it won’t work, she’s too far gone: too hungry, too cranky, crying already, not to mention she HATES oatmeal, but he insists.

9:30 She SCREAMS as he tries to feed her, but he just keeps trying. You hate to discourage him from what might be the right thing to do, so you go along with him encouraging her to eat. He finally realizes it’s not working. You wash her face, her hands and the wall, then take her to bed and breastfeed her until she falls asleep.

10:20pm You suddenly remember the load of laundry is still sitting in the dryer wrinkling. The laundry can wait, you think as you look over at Amanda sleeping peacefully and then kiss her forehead before rolling over to go to sleep yourself.

Parenting Mistake 4,768: The Loft Bed

We just passed our crib and changing table on to Cara and Rick who are anxiously awaiting the arrival of my newest niece in April. (YAY!) To fill the empty space, we bought a loft bed, which just might be one of my biggest parenting mistakes so far. Also on that list would be choosing to parent my children with a man who apparently believes he is completely indestructible and that he somehow passed on that genetic wonder to his two daughters.

The loft bed was Scott’s idea. My husband is a big fan of furniture that performs more than one task. A chair that is just a chair is just STUPID. We couldn’t get the coffee table that only held a few magazines and your drink. We had to get the coffee table that has storage underneath and a top that extends up and out to become a table so you can sit on the couch and comfortably eat your dinner in front of the TV.

Somewhere I have a photo of Scott sitting on his fantasy couch, this hideously ugly enormous blue microfiber sectional thing at Sears that must have comfortably seated at least 47 with two reclining seats (yes, one for each of us because he loves me like that!), built in heat and massage units, beverage holders in the arm rests, a storage compartment for the remotes, a built in ice chest and an optional sleep section. All we would need was one end table that turned into a microwave and another that turned into a porta-potty and he could have lived out his life happily without ever leaving his big screen TV.

So it’s not at all surprising that when considering a new bed for the girls’ room, the one Scott wanted was an all-in-one unit, a loft bed with a trundle bed below, seven drawers, a built in desk with a bookshelf and a large closet area extending the length of the bed. I had to agree that it made sense for us in terms of storage space which we’re in desperate need of in their room. What didn’t make sense was the potential it held to break the necks of one or both of my children.

A bit of marriage advice: if you’re married to someone, you might want to actually talk to them every now and then. You’d think after eight years of marriage, and even having noted in our wedding vows that we are total opposites, I would have figured out that we are likely to see things quite differently. But no, there are still times when my point of view makes so much sense to me that I can’t imagine Scott feeling any different. Meanwhile he is feeling the very same way about his totally opposite point of view.

After we bought the bed from someone on Craigslist (Please note that means it’s non-returnable), dismantled it, hauled it home and reassembled it in the girls’ room, it turns out that Scott and I have very different visions of how this bed will be used.

In my mind, it was obvious that my thrill-seeking two-year-old shouldn’t have access to the top bunk with all of its potential for jumping or falling. Call me crazy, but I like my children completely intact and unbroken. I asked Scott at least ten times if the ladder was as easily removable as it appeared to be and he assured me that it was. So from that I assumed that he and I were on the same page and that the ladder would be hidden away most of the time and only placed there permanently when Alyssa was much older.

Our disconnect became obvious when I noticed he’d bolted the ladder to the bed and wanted Alyssa and Amanda to sleep on the top bunk together on the very first night. He said I was crazy and overprotective and I said well maybe but at least I’m not trying to kill the children. There’s a warning right there on the bed itself that says to avoid serious or fatal injuries, children under six should not be allowed on the top bunk, and that there should never be more than one person at a time up there. There is no little asterisk with a note saying "Unless they're Scott's children and then it should be okay."

Yes, it’s probably true that I’m overprotective. When I said we weren’t taking the training wheels off of Amanda’s bike until she turned 23 it might have been a BIT overly cautious, but I think I’m being very reasonable when it comes to this bunk bed thing.

Scott insists all we need to do is teach Alyssa the basics of ladder safety, have her practice a couple of times and tell her not to lean over the side and everything will be fine. I say perhaps he hasn’t noticed that this is ALYSSA we’re talking about and we can talk to her for days about safety and then the second we turn our backs or more likely right in front of our eyes, she’ll be jumping off the side, swinging from the ceiling fan or worse.

We’re still in deliberation over the matter and will continue to be until he manages to see things my way. I’m hoping we can come to a peaceful agreement soon so I don’t have to set fire to the ladder while he’s asleep.

If you don't enjoy stories about puking you might want to skip this post

My kids are sick. AGAIN. There is just way too much throwing up going on around this place and I’m ready for it to be over. Yesterday it was Amanda. She was miserable, poor little thing. By bedtime she was feeling better and I thought life would be returning to normal. Then at about 4:30am Alyssa woke up crying inconsolably. I finally got her to sleep in my lap and breathed a huge sigh of relief when I felt a sudden warmth flood over me. Unfortunately it turned out not to be motherly love, but instead the contents of Alyssa’s stomach, which is not nearly as pleasant. All over her and me and my clean bed sheets. Ick.

Having a 2-year-old who’s throwing up us is an extra special kind of delightful because there’s that added element of surprise. You can sit within inches of her for hours fully prepared to capture the puke with a bowl or a wastebasket or your husband's golf hat, but just as you stand up to use the bathroom or attend to some other completely unnecessary task, say like feeding your other child, SURPRISE! Puke everywhere.

Until Amanda started school, she rarely got sick, but now she seems to catch every single bug and then brings them home to share. Our last round of sickness happened before Christmas, first Amanda and then on the first day of school vacation Alyssa came down with it. I’d recruited my niece Courtney to keep the girls entertained while I helped out Santa by building a Barbie House (which, in case you're wondering, was too big to fit through the chimney fully-assembled). I had these grand plans of sending them off to the park or Super Franks (which is like Chuck E. Cheese but less annoying) for several hours while I built the house and ran a few errands. Alyssa had shown no sign of illness when I made those plans though.

When she woke up that morning with an earache I got worried. But after some Tylenol and eardrops she was back to herself and I’d adjusted my plans to think Courtney would be sticking close to home and then just as we were heading out the front door to pick up Courtney from the BART station I heard this huge SPLASH at my feet. HUH? Sure enough Alyssa was throwing up. She was thoughtful enough to completely miss her clothing and everyone else’s. Bravo for that.

The fact that I was picking up Courtney kind of brought this puking moment full circle for me. My sister, Darin, had her two daughters when I was a teenager. Perfect timing since she’d wasted… err spent… almost every Friday night of her teen years babysitting my brother and I… and as the story went, I OWED HER BIG. So I babysat my nieces quite a bit.

One time I remember rather clearly was when Courtney was just a baby… under a year I’d guess…so I was 15 or 16 and though my sister had a wonderful babysitter they called “Nana” who watched Courtney on a regular basis while Darin worked, she wanted me to baby-sit Courtney when she was sick, because though she would have gotten wonderful care from Nana, my sister said she wouldn’t feel comfortable calling Nana every ten minutes to make sure Courtney was okay…wouldn’t want Nana to think she was one of those neurotic new mothers or anything… so it was on this particular day that I had my very first experience with projectile vomiting.

This moment is etched permanently in my memory, as it was both horrifying and wondrous at the same time. Please note that Courtney is now 23 years old so it is possible that in over 20 years of telling this story I have dramatized the memory just a bit but not much. We have this plastic Elmo toy that we plug into the sprinklers, and I promise you that Courtney was just like that toy. One second she was this adorable slightly feverish baby playing on the floor in her purple footy pajamas and the next, her head started spinning around like a top and vomit started shooting out in all directions and in random spectacular patterns all over the living room carpet. Never seen anything like it before or since. It was AMAZING. Seriously, I wish you could have seen it. I just sat there staring, frozen, and then as quickly as it started it was over. Her head stopped spinning and she crawled over to me and smiled this adorable smile and then laid her head down in my lap.

It was one of those days that I’ll always remember because I actually felt like I learned something about myself.

Most of the guys I dated for any length of time at some point told me that they thought I would make a wonderful mother someday. I have absolutely no idea why they would have said that about me but I heard it a lot. I truly don’t think I mothered my boyfriends. I’ve always been the kind who needed my space. Oh no! Is it possible that it might be the longer term equivalent of, “Well, she has a wonderful personality”? You know how if a guy said a girl had a wonderful personality it almost certainly meant he thought she was butt-ugly? Well perhaps the “she’ll make a wonderful mother someday,” meant something equally as awful?

Anyway, as I said, I never could figure out what they saw in me that made them think that I would make a good mother. But my point wasn’t why they said it about me, it was that I didn’t believe it about myself. For years I thought I was far too selfish, self-centered and flighty to ever make a decent mother. I loved being an aunt and I figured I’d make a fabulous grandmother. But the thought of motherhood scared me to death. What if I couldn’t handle it? What if I was one of those moms who couldn’t take the pressure?

Well after Courtney puked all over the place and then crawled over and covered me in puke, my first thought was not the expected EWW get this kid away from me, but instead it was that I absolutely adored her. That I quite possible loved her even more after witnessing the amazing spectacle of vomit than I had before, and that I wanted to do anything in my power to make her feel better. This gave me a bit of hope and I thought maybe I will be a good mother! And then I took her out in the backyard and hosed her down.

So fast-forward 20-some years to when I picked up Courtney at the BART station with my own little vomiting baby and had to say, "Sorry Courtney, I hate to do this to you but YOU OWE ME BIG…"

The first day of Kindergarten

5:38 am

Am I too old to be having that nightmare where I oversleep and miss the first day of kindergarten?

7:32 am

At what point did I switch from trying to make this a peaceful, relaxed morning to coaching Amanda through every bite of her waffle,"Eat faster, eat faster! Do you want to be late to school on your very first day?!?"

9:25 am

Welcome to one of the longest mornings of my life. Kindergarten. Who knew it was going to be this hard?

Okay I suspected it. I was afraid that as hard as I tried to put on a brave face, I would end up a blubbering mess of tears. I thought that my pockets would be overflowing with wadded up Kleenex and that I might scare the children by sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. I thought Amanda would probably do okay other than being horrified that her mother was making a spectacle of herself. She’d be in the corner whispering to another kid, “Who is that lady? How embarrassing!”

Yesterday was my first indication that things might go a bit differently than I was expecting. Amanda went to a birthday party for a pair of twins that she has grown up with. She’s gone to almost all of their birthday parties and always had a blast. So I had absolutely no reason to believe this party would be any different. But do you remember those old Folgers commercials…the ones where they would show a scene in some five-star restaurant and a smarmy voice would whisper, “We have secretly replaced the regular coffee at Café de Foo-Foo with Folgers crystals. Let's see if these picky coffee-drinkers can taste the difference…” Well if that voice had been at the party yesterday it would have said, “We have secretly replaced Dione’s happy little social-butterfly of a daughter with a nervous kid who will be terrified if she loses sight of her mother for even a second.” I could tell the difference immediately and it freaked me out more than a little.

Since Amanda was a baby she has been happy to hang out with pretty much anyone, any time. I might have had a hard time leaving her but she never seemed to have much of a problem leaving me. Amanda has never been clingy, never had a problem talking to other kids or adults for that matter. In a situation where she doesn’t know anyone she will act shy for a few minutes but then she warms up, makes friends and ends up having fun. So yesterday was weird. And it cranked up my anxiety level for the first day of kindergarten, oh about 150%.

So back to today, the good news is that I didn’t cry… Well okay I teared up a bit when I saw Amanda’s name on a red apple hanging on the window outside of her classroom. For some reason that got me. This is Amanda’s classroom! How did this happen? But then I sucked it up and managed to keep my brave face on until I got home.

Amanda on the other hand? She was the crier. After a few minutes in her classroom, Amanda started crying and told me she didn’t want me to leave. “Please don’t leave, please stay with me, Please don’t goooooooo. I don’t want you to leave, Mommy.” When the teacher suggested that any kids who needed to go to the bathroom might want to go before she started class, Amanda said she wanted to go and she wanted me to go with her. I knew this was not going to be pretty.

As soon as I managed to cram myself, Amanda and Alyssa into the tiny little bathroom (with this tiny little kindergarten size toilet) Amanda had a full-fledged meltdown. The tears started flowing freely, and she was sobbing, “Please Mommy, please Mommy I want to go home, pleeeeeeease…”

On the outside I was smiling brightly and sticking with the, “Oh this is going to be so much fun, Amanda. You’re going to make friends and you’re going to sing songs and you’re going to love this, Sweetie, I promise,” thing, but on the inside I was thinking, “OHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh nooooooooooooooooo… what if she doesn’t have any fun and doesn’t make any friends and they don’t sing any songs and she HATES this and we have to do this all over again tomorrow?”

It only got worse after that. Amanda totally wanted to leave Kindergarten but Alyssa totally wanted to stay. So Alyssa was fighting me, practically tore my shirt off while desperately trying to jump from my arms so she could play with the fabulous selection of toys while Amanda was sitting on her little corner of the carpet holding onto my leg, unsuccessfully fighting back tears because she wanted out of there badly. Did I mention that she was the only kid crying? She was. I think I was the mom that all the other moms were relieved not to be at that moment. The other parents were great though, very sympathetic. A couple of them tried to get their daughters to befriend Amanda but Amanda wasn’t having it.

The other parents were leaving a few at a time and I finally decided that I was just going to have to do it, just hug her good-bye and hope for the best. She tried to follow me out the door, but then she turned around and stayed. I stood outside with another mom talking for a bit and when I peeked in the window I saw that Amanda was marching around the classroom with the rest of the kids, miserably marching, but at least marching, which was a good thing.

10:08 am

I call my mom to report the morning's happenings and ask her how my first day of kindergarten went. Did I cry? Nope. Did she? Yep.

11:10 am

I had all of these grand ideas about how I would spend the four hours (actually 3.75 hours) between the time I drop Amanda off at school and the time I pick her up. Now I’m just mostly hoping I’ll be able to spend it doing something other than obsessively worrying how she’s doing. Is she okay? Is she still crying? Is she making friends? Is she having fun yet?

12:45 pm

So the first thing I noticed when I picked Amanda up from school was her huge smile. No tears in sight. (insert enormous sigh of relief) Her teacher even sent her home with a little red happy face paper, which apparently, in kindergarten teacher speak, means Amanda had a good day.

Actually according to Amanda she had a great day. Not that I was concerned. During crayon time, she wrote down her thoughts… She doesn’t write much yet so this was mostly just lines, not actual words, but she read it to me slowly so I could type it out for future reference...you know, like maybe tomorrow morning in case she decides to barricade herself inside her room and refuses to come out until she's old enough to skip school completely and just get her G.E.D.. So here’s the scoop on school in Amanda’s words:

"I had such a good time at school. I want to go tomorrow. I don’t know all the kids at the school but I know some. I hope other people get to come here on their first day and they have a lot of fun. I didn’t eat any of my lunch at school but mommy sent me some lunch. I did not get into trouble the whole time. I made three friends. Every day I want to go to school but I can’t because some days I have to be off of school."

In case that’s not enough for you, I asked her to give me the play-by-play starting with the moment I left:

• She cried for seven minutes (no, she can’t tell time) and then the little girl sitting next to her asked, "Did your mommy leave?" Amanda said yes and the little girl said, "Mine did too. Wanna be friends?" (Ahhhhhhhh…)
• She didn’t get to eat the snack I packed. None of the other kids ate snacks from their backpacks either. The teacher gave out pretzels but Amanda doesn’t like pretzels so she didn’t eat anything at all.
• They sang a song about Humpty Dumpty and an alligator song.
• There was a puppet table, a paint table, a play-doh table and a crayon table. The boys went to the puppet table, she wanted to play at the play-doh table, (of course) but there were too many kids and not enough chairs so she ended up at the crayon table where she drew pictures of me and Alyssa but not Daddy because he’s hard to draw with the beard, moustache and nose (?).
• It’s not okay to leave your stuff on the floor because one girl tripped over something one of the kids left on the floor.
• They can call the teacher “teacher” or "Mrs. P****r" but not "Mrs. P." One boy called her "Mrs. P" and she didn’t like it.
• They learned all about the letter “A” and tomorrow will learn all about “B”.
• She made three friends, one of whom high-fived her, without specifically saying that she was high-fiving her but that was okay cuz Amanda said “I was like, oh I know what you’re doing,” and high-fived her right back.
• The teacher was really nice and only got mad when kids didn’t listen and then they got time-outs but Amanda ALWAYS listened.
• They got to play outside two times and one of her friends fell down and scraped her hands up.
• They mostly sat on the carpet not in chairs and Amanda picked a square on the carpet that had a flower on it, but one time her friend sat in the flower square and Amanda had to sit in the boring old zebra square.
• When I asked her if there were any cute boys in her class she said, “Oh yes! The little boy who had to wait a really long time for his mommy was CUH-UTE!!! (She doesn’t know his name but he’s blonde.)

And best of all:

• She can’t wait to go back tomorrow.

Oh and as for me, I’m doing better too. We survived our first day of kindergarten and with any luck we just might survive the whole year.

Enough

These pictures were supposed to be all about the ice cream cones. The pure bliss of eating ice cream outside on a hot day after hopping out of the blow-up pool. What a total mess the girls were making of themselves and all that… But when I look at these pics I get caught up looking at the ones of Amanda…I was trying to figure out what it was about her that kept drawing me back and I finally figured it out: it’s the confidence. It’s the I’m okay exactly as I am-ness about her.

She doesn’t care at all that she’s in a bathing suit, with messy hair, ice cream on her upper lip; fingers still neon pink from painting earlier in the day. She’s so okay with herself. I’d give anything to be able to bottle up some of this okay-ness so I could hand it back to her one day when she’s not quite so sure of herself.

That’s one of the worries I have about sending her off to school: she’ll have to start dealing with the real world… the mean kids and the people who don’t think she’s the most amazing creature they’ve ever encountered. I hate to think about her confidence getting chipped away and battered.

I wish there was a way to ensure that a big part of her fearless okay just as I am self would remain intact. If only I could bubble-wrap it and put it in a fireproof safe for that day when some teacher makes her feel like she’s not smart enough or some boy makes her feel like she’s not pretty enough or some magazine makes her feel like she’s not thin enough. Even us as her parents are bound to damage her somehow no matter how hard we try not to. When the world tries to make her feel like she’s not ENOUGH I want her to hold on to this part of herself that doesn’t worry whether she’s enough because she just is.

Moments

Last night I'd gotten the girls all ready for bed: baths taken, teeth brushed, jammies on. There was only a story waiting to be read when Scott insisted that I come watch the last few minutes of a show we'd started earlier.

The girls were happily playing with dolls in their room so I sat down to watch TV. About two minutes later they appeared in the living room and Amanda announced she was ready for her story. I said, "Just a second, Sweetie," and she said, "Oh Mom, no more just a seconds!" Then she went to her room, and returned with a pillow and blanket, laid down on the floor and covered herself up.

Alyssa walked over to her and Amanda pulled the blanket aside and moved over to make room for her sister. Alyssa laid down and snuggled up to Amanda who pulled the blanket up around them. They just laid there together so sweetly... Amanda taking such good care of her little sister and Alyssa clearly adoring her big sister. And I just sat there smiling at them.

Suddenly it occurred to me that this is what it's all about... these moments right here. This is what's so wonderful about having children... these moments that make your heart swell up so big that you think it might it explode.

Then right in the middle of my moment Alyssa looked around and then jammed her finger up her nose. Amanda looked over at her with what appeared to be total disgust but instead of saying "Yuck!" she jammed her finger up Alyssa's other nostril. Pretty much above and beyond the big sister call of duty if you ask me. But then I've never been a big sister, so what do I know? And umm, yes, these are the kind of moments that my wonderful children might not appreciate having posted on the world wide web. Luckily they can't read yet.

(photo taken in March 2007)

Mixed Signals

It suddenly occurred to me this afternoon that Alyssa had a doctor appointment this afternoon. Can’t believe I forgot. Oh I know, so maybe it’s not particularly shocking to learn that I forgot something. I’m not exactly known for being extremely organized and on top of things but I’m usually pretty good about appointments. (Really, there’s no need to rub it in my face that I talked about missing a hair appointment on this very blog. Do you think I don’t know this? I don’t have to come here, you know… and yes, it's kind of surprising that I remember to, isn't it?)

Okay, so anyway brief detour into panic mode while I tried to figure out how I was going to get us to the doctor’s office on time. I looked around and realized we were actually in pretty good shape all things considered. Usually by this point of the day somebody has either bathed themselves in some random sticky substance or rolled in the dirt, often both. So the fact that all of us were dressed and clean was slightly miraculous by my standards. I even managed to locate my purse, my keys, Alyssa’s immunization card and matching shoes for all of us. Who says I’m not organized? Oh right, me.

So by this point in the story I was actually feeling slightly competent and even rather calm. I went to the bathroom to brush my hair and as I did, I looked around and wondered…where’s my lipstick? I swear it was right here… where did I put that lipstick?

Of course that’s when I heard Amanda screech, “Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, come see what Alyssa did!!!” It was right about here that the whole competent/relaxed feeling completely drained from my body as I ran to see.

Yep. Guess who found my lipstick?

See those two little lipstick-covered hands? By this point they’d already been all over Amanda who had bravely wrestled the lipstick from her little sister with little consideration for her own safety or cleanliness... And as I tried to clean her up those same little hands got all over me.

(You’d think I’d know better considering we had a similar scene last Saturday right before my mother-in-law arrived except on that day instead of lipstick Alyssa opted to cover herself in the dark brown paint her dad was using to paint the trim on the shed. And on that day I opted to forego the photo shoot. Sorry.)

So after I got us all cleaned up and into clean clothes, we managed to make it to the doctor’s with a few minutes to spare. I decided it could have been a whole lot worse. When Amanda pulled the lipstick routine a few years back, she used one of those long-lasting lipsticks and it took days for it to wear off of her eyelids.

Perhaps you're wondering what I have learned from this little drama? Not a thing.

What has Alyssa learned from this little drama? That Mommy sure does send some mixed signals. I can only imagine that if Alyssa had an instruction manual, the following rules would be in there somewhere:

• Find a way to get my hands on something I've been told not to touch.
• Apply liberally to self/clothing/walls/carpet/furniture.
• Feel overwhelming sense of glee & satisfaction.
• Wait for Mommy to discover how brilliant and cute I am.
• When Mommy arrives there may be strong signs of displeasure and distress, and a lot of "No, no, no's" being tossed around. Wait patiently.
• Smile sweetly when Mommy whips out the camera to record how brilliant and cute I am.
• Repeat often.

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.