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.

Kindergarten Assessment

Amanda’s going to Kindergarten! Well at the end of August, that is. I know, it’s hard for me to believe too. Feels like we just brought her home from the hospital a few weeks ago instead of almost FIVE YEARS AGO. Somebody hand me a Kleenex, please.

Amanda went to Kindergarten Assessment a couple of weeks ago and I was a WRECK. That’s right, Amanda: totally fine. Me: complete WRECK. I remember my own Kindergarten Assessment and how stressed out I was about it because I did NOT want to go to school.

My brother went to school and didn’t like it so I wanted no part of it. I was perfectly happy staying at home playing Little People, watching Mighty Mouse and All My Children and having the toys, crayons and my mom all to myself for hours at a time. I think I wanted to fail my Kindergarten Assessment but when Mrs. Reynolds promised a treat afterwards I performed like a well-trained monkey. I got a fabulous piece of chocolate and a ticket to Kindergarten. D’oh!

For months I’ve been talking about how exciting and fun Kindergarten will be. There will be paste to eat, big vats of paint to spill on the carpet, boys to kiss, brown rolls of paper towels so hard you’ll get splinters when you dry your hands, games of I’ll show you my belly button if you show me yours with Tim Smith during naptime… Or maybe that was just my Kindergarten experience. But my point is that Amanda had no fears about the assessment or going to Kindergarten, which is how it should be.

I was nervous enough for both of us anyway. Because, let's be honest, I figured that if she didn’t do well it would be my fault. Oh and Scott’s of course, because he’s the one who vetoed pre-school. But I’m the one who didn’t demand it. I'm her mom and I should have fought harder for it.

Apparently that commercial about how going to preschool means you’ll do better for the rest of your life has not had quite the same impact on Scott that it has had on me. Some days it plays in an endless loop in my head followed by this nightmarish vision of Amanda out behind her third grade classroom smoking cigarettes and tossing beer cans onto the hopscotch field with all the other little thugs who didn’t go to preschool. These moments brought to you by: Mommy Guilt.

So back to the big assessment... we practiced for weeks: her letters, numbers, shapes, writing her name, basic math, anthropology, Latin, physics. Okay maybe not all that, but we studied and practiced. I took it as a good sign that her appointment was with a Mrs. Starr. Not only is star a happy shiny name, but it’s also the name of one of my very favorite teachers, Mr. Starr, my 6th grade teacher who is probably at least partially responsible for the fact that this blog even exists but I’ll write about him another time. My point is that I panicked a tiny bit when they told me, first thing, that Mrs. Starr was unavailable and that we would be meeting with the other teacher whose name I had a bit of trouble pronouncing. What? Uh oh.

But the teacher was wonderful and her classroom was happy and fun and Amanda marched right in there and… well I don’t want to say that she was trying to make me look bad. But she was. Yeah she was definitely trying to make me look bad. For instance the teacher asked her if she could count and Amanda said, "Of course," and then she proceeded to count to ten. The teacher then asked if she knew what came after ten and Amanda said, “Eight?”

You know how one minute you think you know exactly who you are and then something happens to show you that you’re somebody you don’t really recognize? Well that’s what Kindergarten Assessment did to me. One minute I was this totally laid back, low pressure, non-competitive you’ll get there when you get there kind of mom and the next minute I was - well, a crazy woman.

There I was sitting in a tiny little chair in the corner pretending to read a tiny little book while inside I was screaming, “Eight? Eight? EIGHT?!?” It was all I could do to just sit there and force myself not to turn into some obnoxious stage mother off to the side motioning like a lunatic to Amanda or loudly coughing “ELEVEN” into my hand… And then Amanda pulled the same routine with recognizing the letters of the alphabet and reversed the N & D in her name. While I’m thinking, “She KNOWS this stuff…I halfway expected Amanda to just whisper to the teacher, “Look, Mrs. P, my mommy didn’t send me to pre-school and my daddy doesn’t let me play with play-doh. I think we both know the direction my life is heading. Do you think I could take a quick smoke break to clear my head?”

Despite everything I’ve said to the contrary, the truth is Amanda did a great job at her assessment and the teacher said she had absolutely no doubt that she is ready for kindergarten. Highly questionable whether I am ready for kindergarten, but Amanda should do just fine.

As soon as we got outside I told Amanda what a great job she’d done, but couldn't resist asking her, “How do you spell your name?” “A-M-A-N-D-A“ Right, and what comes after ten?” “Eleven.” “And after eleven?” “Twelve.” “And after twelve?” “Thirteen.” “And…” “Mommy, can we go out for doughnuts?” “Okay.”

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)

Great minds think alike

A few weeks ago my mom called and asked me if I wanted one of the birdhouses that my dad built. She said it’s supposed to be an outhouse. Without really thinking I said yes, and then a minute later it hit me, “Wait, it’s an outhouse for birds!?! That’s perfect!”

In case you think I’m crazy like my mom probably did, a while back in the play-doh post I quoted Amanda saying, “I'm building a toilet for the birds because I'm so sick of them pooping on my slide!” so it just made me all kinds of happy to think about this birdhouse.

As a kid, my dad spent a lot of time on his uncle’s farm and he had a thing for outhouses. He had a little collection of them (my favorite was the two-story outhouse - you never want to be on the bottom floor of a two-story outhouse) and when my parents retired to Hidden Valley Lake he started collecting and building birdhouses. He had a row of them up on posts circling their backyard that overlooks the lake. So the fact that he built a bird-size outhouse makes sense. And the fact that it has found a new home in our backyard makes even more sense. I don’t think this outhouse was meant for me at all, I like to think it was a gift for Amanda from her grandpa.

Grandma gave it a fresh coat of paint and we are searching for the perfect spot for it in our yard. Now if only somebody would have a word with those birds. Please tell them to stop pooping on Amanda's slide.

Happy Father's Day!

We love him because:

• He kills the spiders



• He mows the lawn



• He puts out the garbage



• He sometimes shares the remote control



• He works hard so that I can stay home with the kids



• He unstops the toilet

• He teaches us new things



• He carries the girls on his shoulders which always makes me smile



• He's easy on the eyes



• He has the attention span of a 6-year old so he makes great company for the kids



• He lets me pick the music in the car



• He does all the driving and takes care of the vehicles



• He puts up with us when we're grouchy



• He can fix electrical stuff and not catch the house on fire

• He never complains about how much money I spend (I'm kidding, threw this one in so I could see if he was paying attention)



• He loves leftovers and will eat pretty much anything without complaining



• He puts up with us when we're messy



• He has power tools and is not afraid to use them



• He's a great cook



• He takes us to fun places



• He cleans out the kitty litter box
  


• Because I know one day he'll pay for braces

• And therapy - lots and lots of therapy

• He makes us laugh

• We've been together a long time and who wants to train a newbie?

Happy Father's Day from your girls,

Dione, Amanda & Alyssa

Please don't drink the bath water

Last night I had both of the girls in the tub and I'd colored the water pink. I looked over and Alyssa was drinking a big cup of water so I said, "Alyssa! You know what happens when you drink pink water, don't you?" Amanda asked, "What?" and I responded, "You'll pee pink!"

A minute later I looked over and Amanda was standing up drinking a cup of pink water while peeing in the tub. I know... ewww. But I must say that her ability to multi-task is impressive. She was disappointed though because it turns out there must be a delay on the whole pink pee thing.

I bet mothers of boys think they're the only ones who get these special heartwarming kind of moments, but it's just not true. We get them too. Except sometimes our moments are pink.

So if you happen to be at our house, I highly recommend that you don't drink the bath water. Especially if it's pink... or umm... yellow... Well just don't drink it. Ever.

Alyssa at 19 months

A few random facts about Alyssa at 19 months. Alyssa:

• Weighs 25 lbs., 8 oz. And is 33 inches tall.
• Loves baby dolls, phones, remote controls and her sister.
• Demands equality. If Amanda has a whole graham cracker Alyssa will not be satisfied with a small piece of a graham cracker. She will throw down the inferior graham cracker in disgust and cry NOOOOOOO!
• Likes to sing her ABC’s and the bumblebee song. A few notes and words are actually distinguishable.
• Loves baths. I've had to remove the word "bath" from my vocabulary for the second time in my life. The first was when I was a kid and if we uttered the word "bath" our dog Rusty would fly thru the house and into hiding because a bath was the worst thing imaginable for Rusty. The complete opposite is true for Alyssa. If I notice Alyssa suddenly stripping her clothes off and running down the hallway toward the bathroom I start giving the evil-eye to Scott and Amanda asking “WHO said it? Who said the WORD?”
• Is not fond of getting shots.
• Is learning new words daily. Most frequently heard at our house: Where Dada? (Where’s Daddy?), Where Nana? (Where’s Amanda?), Where baby? (Where’s baby doll?), Where ga-ga? (Where’s kitty-cat?), Where Mama? (You can run, but you can't hide.), Bah!!! (Want bath), Bah!!! (Want ball), Moh! (Want more) Migh! (Mine) and Noooooooooo! (Noooooooooo!), I 'tinky, said while pinching nose (Go grab a diaper I have a special surprise for you.)
• Enjoys playing peekaboo and patty-cake.
• Is a lover AND a fighter. She likes to gives hugs and kisses but also likes to hit and pinch.
• Is a total kleptomaniac. She’s constantly stealing anything she can get her little mitts on: pens, Amanda’s toys, remote controls, DVDs, spoons… You name it, she’ll take it and find a really weird place to hide it.
• Loves to be naked. Avoids getting dressed at all costs.
• Is completely fearless. I swear she just sits back watching Amanda do the stuff she's not supposed to do and figures out ways to step up the danger level. Alyssa can scale the side of a dresser using the handles as her toe-holds. Putting something up high is not a deterrent, it’s a challenge.
• Is a huge helper! If I need someone to remove every item from the lower shelves of the pantry and toss them all over the kitchen, I look no further than Alyssa. If I want someone to take the stack of freshly folded laundry and wad it into a big pile on the floor, she’s my girl. Need that new roll of toilet paper unrolled? Want the dirty dishes removed from the dishwasher? Need someone to distribute cat food over a widespread area? Alyssa can assist!
• Is a total joy each and every day (she gets that from me) and occasionally a total pain in the butt (we all know who she gets that from).

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.

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.

This post is for Courtney

I'll be posting a few more photos soon, but as soon as I saw the photo below I knew I had to post it for my niece, Courtney.

She noticed Alyssa's talent way back when and here she is once again, as Court called her, the amazing Tongue-Rolling Child-Prodigy!

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.

Yosemite

I know I said I’d do a separate post about Scott's new job but since I’m leery about sharing too much personal info on the web (well other than the personal info that nobody wants to hear about) I 've realized I shouldn't mention what company he’s working for or where the company is or even what he’s doing for them (that last one is only because he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing for them yet). Anyway the main thing is that he’s finally working! The company is nearby so he has an extremely short commute. And after being off for so long, he seems to be getting back into the swing of things and is enjoying it so far. I probably don't have to tell you that I'm thrilled to be returning to life as usual.

The day he got the job he said, “We might as well sell the van. We’ll never use it again.” If I ever wonder where Amanda got her flair for the dramatic I think we have our answer right there. So before he returned to work we took one last camping trip. At least that’s what Scott kept calling it.

We went to Yosemite which was amazingly beautiful, as always, but to be perfectly honest, we didn't always take the time to enjoy the scenery as much as I would like. I remember talking to a park ranger once who said there are two types of tourists: the kind that stops and immerses himself in his surroundings and really takes it all in and the kind who stops only long enough to take a few photos so he can say, “I was here.”

I’d like to think we lean more toward the first kind of tourist but these days we have to make a decision about whether dragging two kids out and then back into their carseats and the possible drama that goes with it is worthwhile. Definitely can’t totally blame it on having kids because I remember taking a long road trip with Scott many years ago when not stopping the car for spectacular scenery became a running joke. We would say things like, “Look! It’s Hoover Dam! You can see everything you need to see if you will quickly turn your head and look out the back window of the car. Oh, too bad. You missed it.”

So here, in no particular order are a few highlights from our Yosemite trip (aka our last camping trip ever):

• Stopping on the side of the road so Amanda could play in a bit of snow! She said she was making ice cream for the animals.
• Amanda thrilled to discover a fallen tree making a bridge across a ditch behind our campsite spent much of her time practicing her “tightrope walk”.
• Alyssa throwing herself into a mud puddle about 10 minutes after I changed her into a clean outfit.
• Lunch at the top of Vernal Falls, enjoying every little thing after that LONG hike: the food, sitting, shade, the amazing view, taking a break at last.
• Amanda narrating in great detail, for all to hear, everything that went on each time we used the restroom. Asking whether I planned to poop or pee and announcing, “Look! I did a small poop like a jelly bean!”
• Scott discovering after repeated tries that the charcoal would not light and sending me off in search of something flammable. Yes, the bug spray saved dinner! And in case you’re wondering, there’s a very subtle difference between mesquite flavor and mosquito spray flavor.
• Scott looking in the rear view mirror and reporting, as I was changing CDs, that Alyssa was sound asleep. Then as the music started, looking back to see her whip her eyes open and start dancing in her car seat.
• Amanda after complaining much of the way to Vernal Falls, “I’m tired and hungry and I just want to be back at the van!” seeming almost as unhappy on the way back because she was having so much fun she didn’t want to leave.
• Scott offering his impressions on the beautiful Mirror Lake (he and Amanda biked there on our first night): “Small and uh… yeah pretty, I guess. People swim in it in the summer.”
• Amanda after falling down the fourth or fifth time on our hike: “I sure have banged up this knee a lot. It’s good that I have another one!”
• Watching the sun set on Half Dome while being serenaded by a bag-pipe player.
• Laying in the pitch-black darkness between the girls, trying to get them to sleep. Complete silence for a long time. And then from out of nowhere a loud giggle from Alyssa followed by a louder giggle from Amanda followed by the entire van shaking with laughter. Guess the joke was on me. I really thought they were asleep!
• The sad moment we discovered that the fudgesicles Grandpa sent with us had melted before we could eat them.
• Alyssa waking us all up at 7:30 by saying loudly, “DA?” and then going right back to sleep.
• Managing to get camp packed up by 9:59am with a minute to spare before check-out time. A personal best.
• Amanda, when asked how many waterfalls we saw this trip: “One, two, three, four… I don’t know. I was asleep a lot.”
• “Woopty-woos” – Scott’s term for those stretches of road that make your tummy feel funny as if it’s suspended in air for a second before it drops down with the rest of your body.
• Upon seeing the breathtaking Yosemite Falls… Me: “Wow Amanda, isn’t it beautiful!?!” Amanda: “Yeah, it’s pretty. Can we go now?”
  

You have a what stuck where?

The big news at our house is that Scott got a new job. He started Monday. Yay!!! But I’ll write more about that in another post. I’m here now to tell you about what happened at home while Scott was busy at his first day of work.

I was folding laundry or eating bon-bons or whatever it is we stay-at-home moms do all day when Amanda came running to me crying, saying that Alyssa had crammed a rock up her nose. Way up her nose. Amanda's nose, that is. She was crying hysterically and I was thinking great, Scott's gone one day and I'm gonna have to go to the emergency room.

Well not that we'd actually have to go to the emergency room, being a weekday and all, I guess our pediatrician could have gotten us in but I wasn't thinking logically... because I was in high-drama mode and trying to determine if a rock crammed up your nose constitutes an emergency. I mean the daughter of a friend had a bean stuck up her nose for ages. And aside from bad breath and some nasty drainage she was just fine. But back to Amanda, this was no bean, it was a rock and if she sucked in too hard it might go flying and smack the side of her brain or something. There was some speculation about how big the rock was and did she really just stand there helplessly while Alyssa slowly took aim and jammed the thing as far as she could up her nose?

So anyway, mostly I was just trying to remain calm and keep her calm because that's what good parents are supposed to do right? Besides, when she cried, she did that snot-sucking thing that was just a brain-injury waiting to happen. So of course I tried to get her to blow it out. She tried and tried but it just would not come out. Oh and it turns out this wasn't just any rock; it was Rilie's rock. Rilie is her new best friend next door. And every single time Rilie leaves one of her toys here something bad happens to it, so this just added to Amanda's trauma.

Eventually we located a flashlight and I'm happy to report that I could see the rock... and like an idiot I said, “No biggie, I'll just pull it out with tweezers.” From her reaction I could tell I might as well have said, "I'll just go get a really big knife and... " At our house, Splinter + Scott + Tweezers = Scary. She started doing that really hysterical cry again and as I'm trying to soothe her, Alyssa walks up and just smacks Amanda in the head. You've seen those movies where some lady is hysterical and then someone slaps them across the face and suddenly they're fine? Well I now know that it works. Amanda stopped crying for long enough to get really ticked off and yell. "Alyssa hit me!!! She HIT ME... "

So anyway, before trying the tweezers, I googled the problem... can't remember exactly what words I used but it took a few tries: “object stuck in nose,” “item jammed in nostril,” “how to remove rock from nasal cavity,” before I came up with something called the KISS technique... in which I would hold closed the nostril that did not hold the foreign object and blow into Amanda’s mouth and hopefully that would create enough pressure to push the rock out.

This made me laugh because I once dated a guy who actually used this as a kissing technique. Clearly he'd gotten some misinformation. Probably read some medical journal on the KISS technique and got badly confused.

Just picturing the whole scenario got me laughing and as I tried to explain it to Amanda she started laughing and would go back and forth between laughing and crying. She's at the age where she understands the power of an injury and knows enough to milk it until she gets cookies or ice cream or something. So she knew she must continue to cry but I couldn't stop laughing and that made her laugh and eventually Amanda laughed so hard the rock shot right out of her nose.

Of course that was a huge relief. But then I had this rock. This smooth tan rock... bigger than a pea, smaller than El Capitan... and after washing it I set it aside and tried to determine what I was supposed to do with it, you know, after showing it to Scott. It seemed like one of those weird things I was supposed to keep. And for a moment I imagined us in one of those sappy Hallmark commercial kind of moments with Amanda at around age 13 rummaging through my jewelry box and saying, "Mom what's all this stuff?" And me saying with a dreamy faraway look on my face, “Oh, Sweetie, those are your baby teeth and a lock of your hair and that's your appendix, and ewww I have no idea what that thing is, but that's the rock your sister crammed up your nose when you were four. Gosh it seems like it was just yesterday..." Then music would come out of nowhere and we'd hug.

So I'm sure you can imagine how upset I was when Rilie came over and announced she wanted her rock back. “Really? Do you know where that thing has been? It was UP HER NOSE. Ick... Eww. You don't really want it, do you?” She said, "I can wash it." Fine then. Take your icky rock.

Oh and later I said to Amanda, "So tell me the truth, did Alyssa put that rock in your nose or did you?" She started laughing and said, "I did. I was just being silly." I said, "Yeah, I figured." She asked, “How did you know?” and I said, "Well umm... when I was around your age I stuck a nickel up my nose. And I'm pretty sure I blamed it on my brother."

I figured that would be our little secret but of course now she's telling everyone that "Me and Mommy put stuff up our noses." So two can play at that game and that’s why I’m telling you this little story. It’s true: me and Amanda put stuff up our noses. It’s one of those you have to try, but only once. At least that's what I thought until I asked Amanda to pose for the picture above and she asked, "Do you want me to put it back in my nose?"

A few pics from Easter, finally

The Great Debate

When you start thinking about having kids there are all kinds of things you’re supposed to discuss and come to agreement on. How will you pay for them? How will you discipline them? What about religion? Education? Childcare?

What’s the one topic nobody ever warns you about?

Play-Doh.

At our house we’ve been arguing about Play-Doh. Here’s the thing… I LOVE Play-Doh. I love how it smells. I love how it feels. I love that it comes in so many fun colors. For me Play-Doh represents fun, creativity and endless possibilities. In my mind Play-Doh is critical to the childhood experience.

Scott, on the other hand, HATES Play-Doh. Play-Doh is messy. Play-Doh is stinky. Play-Doh is a choking hazard to the baby. Play-Doh is evil.

Huh? What? How can we possibly be talking about the same thing?

Did you know that it is difficult to argue about Play-Doh in an adult manner? They say one whiff of Play-Doh can make you feel like you’re right back in Kindergarten. In our case this seems to be true. When Scott said he didn’t want Play-Doh in the house I kept wanting to say: “Oh yeah? Well you’re not the boss of me!” And when I asked why he didn’t like Play-Doh he said, “Because, just because,” to which I wanted to respond: “Oh yeah? Well I’m gonna tell my mommy on you!”

Of course I can’t actually tell my mom. Because I know if I called her right now she would say, “I HATE Play-Doh.” It’s true that I might be in need of intense therapy regarding my Play-Doh issues. And of course I blame that on my mom and try to make her feel guilty about it whenever the opportunity arises. This seems like a good one so bear with me.

Play-Doh wasn’t allowed in our house when I was a kid. I longed for it; begged for it; put it on every Dear Santa list I ever wrote. But Play-Doh was off-limits until the day my friend, Stephanie Lysett, showed up to my sixth birthday party with the gift to top all other gifts, the Play-Doh Fuzzy Pumper Play Set. Yes!!! Mine, it was all mine, the best toy in the world! Or it would have been the best toy, if my mom had ever allowed me to play with it, that is. But I had these shelves in my room that went right up to the ceiling. And the very top shelf is where my Play-Doh lived, taunting me, torturing me from its cellophane wrapped box.

I’m sure I asked the question “Can I play with the Play-Doh today, Mom?” at least a billion times and I’m sure I risked breaking an arm or leg more than once to climb up and fetch the box so I could drool over it up close. But I was a goody-two-shoes and never dared to actually tear off the cellophane and play with it because I knew I’d be in big trouble. I don’t remember playing with that Play-Doh even once. Clearly I’ve been permanently scarred too. Hear that, Mom? Scarred. Permanently.

So fast-forward 30 years or so to when I hear my darling husband say things like, “NO Play-Doh. I don’t want to see it in the house ever again.” And my inner 6-year-old starts twitching. “Umm. ‘Scuse me? You’re kidding me right? Am I on Candid Camera? You can’t be serious. Did my mother put you up to this?”

But he was indeed serious and when I realized how much it bothered him I tried hard to be reasonable. I thought I would compromise and not let Amanda play with it in the house (well umm, at least not when he was around) but I brought it with us on our last camping trip and again, he flipped out. I responded with, “Yeah… you said no more Play-Doh in the house. We are not in the house.” But then I figured he was worried about the precious Eurovan. He can be kind of weird about The Van and I try to be sensitive. Because I suppose I’d get a little tense if he tried to use one of my scrapbooks as a coaster. So I put the Play-Doh away.

But the other day when I was desperately searching for something, I made the mistake of opening The Cabinet. The Cabinet is where all of the off-limit (and therefore most strongly-desired) toys are kept: the slippery high-heel princess shoes I’m afraid they’ll break their necks wearing, the washable paints that aren’t as washable as I would like, the annoying whistle, the toys that come with a hundred teeny-tiny choking hazard pieces, the toy hammer used mostly to bang on the furniture or each others' heads… and, of course, the Play-Doh.

I’m starting to think that when I open The Cabinet it emits some kind of low-decibel sound that only my children can hear. I honestly think that even if they were in a deep sleep the sound of The Cabinet would awaken them and bring them scampering as fast as they can to throw their little bodies in between the open door and The Cabinet making it impossible for me to close The Cabinet until they’ve made several emphatic requests. Alyssa starts pointing at the ball and chanting, “Bah, bah, BAH!” and Amanda screeches, “PLAY-DOH!!! Mommy, can I play with the Play-Doh, pleeeeeeeease Mommy?”

Since I can totally relate to the intense longing to play with Play-Doh and since I don't want Amanda to be Permanently Scarred like I am and since Scott was gone for a while I let Amanda play with some Play-Doh outside on the patio. I honestly didn’t think he would care since it was outside. But I was wrong.

She was still playing when he got home and… did I already mention that we seem to have a difficult time acting like grown-ups when it comes to this subject? Well I’m not even going to tell you about how he marched out to the table and picked up the tray of Play-Doh and unceremoniously dumped the entire thing into the trash while Amanda and I looked on in horror. I also won’t tell you about the tantrums that followed, except to say that Amanda was not the only one who had one.

We talked about it later and finally agreed that we would put the Play Doh on hold for a while since I can’t really argue the fact that it could be a choking hazard for Alyssa. Even though I didn’t let her near it… wait, I said I wouldn’t argue… So anyway, have to tell you my favorite part of the story…

While Amanda was playing with her Play-Doh I said, "Hey, what are you making?" and she said,

"I'm building a toilet for the birds because I'm so sick of them pooping on my slide!"

If you ask me, this is exactly the kind of creative thinking that our world needs more of...The kind of thinking that is encouraged and nurtured by a lump of fragrant, neon-colored, moldable dough. Just think, maybe 30 years down the line Amanda will be telling her children, "You'll never believe this but when I was young, birds pooped anywhere they wanted! Thank goodness for Play-Doh."

If anyone is actually reading this blog I would love to hear your comments. Especially if you have any persuasive arguments for why the Play-Doh ban should be lifted. Come on people, help save the Play-Doh!

*Photo of Amanda taken in November, before the start of the Great Play-Doh Ban

Kiss your sister!

We went to the St. Patrick's Day Festival in our town and now we're all sick. Just the joy of Fair food, I guess. On the brighter side, here are a few more pictures from yesterday.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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.

More photos

Amanda on the big slide at Cheese Park:

Alyssa on the slide last March and now:

Bedtime (?!?!!) at our house:

And just some everyday cuteness: