• Discover your almost-5-year-old hiding in the pantry scarfing Bunny Grahams like some bulimic cast member of The Hills and then carefully disposing of the evidence, flying the Flag of Fairness in your face after you refused him a snack on the grounds that he didn’t eat any of his dinner.
• Race frantically through the mall in the last 20 minutes before you have to leave for a meeting trying to find something…anything! for your kids to wear for school picture day – TOMORROW because, well you just forgot.  (And you are still trying to make up for spring picture day when the kids get to hold a real live bunny, in which older child is wearing a shirt with a red-eyed cobra on it that looks like it is about to attack the bunny.)
• Learn that your 3-year-old, upon being asked what she liked about herself in a discussion at school on why each child is “special” responds with “I like my BOOTY” as she jumps up and points to her butt. This is recorded for posterity on the preschool wall, next to other children’s comments about liking their hair or knees.
• Then think to yourself that it could be worse, you could be the mom of that kid who exclaimed “I like my privates!”

It’s happening.  The other day I was watching a girl feed her baby the same kind of organic baby food that I used to feed Em and I got a sweep of nostalgia.  Today as I looked through my list of categories over there I realized that I probably don’t need “baby stuff” or “baby firsts” anymore.

I swore this would never happen to me.

Last week, I came to home to a request. Alex would like TWO babies. We already have one, but he would really like two. Preferably another girl. Or boy, depending on when you ask.

I never finished or published that post.

Today:

Nevermind.  For all the nostalgia, I can’t forget pumping.

I was informed the other day at school conferences that Emmy and Alex are both delightful to have in class and that they should do really well when they transition next month.  I had to ask for clarification on that transition thing, and it turns out that Emmy - my youngest, my baby – will be transitioning into the class Alex is in now and he’ll transition to the pre-K class. 

Whoa.  For some reason, this news hit me like a ton of bricks.  I’ve always known that through a trick of  birthdays and September cut-off age for school that Emmy would be a grade behind Alex even though they are almost two years apart in age.  But for her to actually be in the class that he is in NOW, just seems so sudden, doesn’t it?  Like, why rush things?  And what happened to me going part-time and spending days creating crafts and doing memorable, childhood-defining activities with them? 

 Next year, it will be too late – kindergarten is all-day.  There will be no random visits to  Grandma and Grandpa whenever we feel like it.  There will be no crowd-avoiding- family trip to Disney when all the other kids are in school unless we do it THIS YEAR.  (Which is completely irrelevant, as I 1) have little desire to go to Disney and 2) have it on good authority that I am almost guaranteed to come back exhausted and in need of a spa retreat.)  All of a sudden my work and life will be defined by a school calendar.

Now I see.  I see the need for three.  Not that I’m going there.  But I get it.

Alex:  Yuck!  I don’t like this dinner!  Will you make me something else?

Me:  No.  I’m not running a restaurant.

Alex:  Yuck!  I don’t like this dinner.  I’m not eating THIS.

Emily Kate (smiling sweetly):  Yummy Mommy!  This is the bes’dinnah evah!

It seems that Emmy has inherited the suck-up gene that Alex hasn’t yet discovered.

Obviously I didn’t willingly sit back and let things happen, but not being able to talk my way out of my speeding ticket or express my EXTREME displeasure at yet another extension for the kicked-out kid at daycare turned out to be a fine way of being forced to learn something.  My tendency to obsess over and constantly talk about whatever happened to me really just prolongs the agony and annoyance.  It’s now been over a week since I lost my voice and I still can’t talk normally.  Trying to “save” the voice I have left forces me to choose my words carefully, to be discretionary when yelling at the kids, and to think about whether some things really need to be said at all.

With that in mind, the 24-hour change in Alex is remarkable now that this other child is no longer at daycare.  A bully since he was old enough to walk, this boy kept the other kids constantly on the lookout for sneaky pushes and pokes, and delivered Emily Kate’s first and only smack to the face when she was only 10 months old.  When he wasn’t picking at the other kids, he was screaming his head off about something or other, refusing to follow directions and loudly expressing displeasure over everything he was asked to do.  I know this not only from observation, but because my kids started to bring it home over the last few months, reacting as if I’d told them I was going to chop off a toe when I would offer a snack they didn’t like.

I realized last night how much the situation was wearing on me, on all of us, when I thought back to those mornings when I couldn’t wait to get back to my car and away from this child.  Just 10 minutes with him was a horrible way to start my morning, and here I was dropping off my kids to spend the next 8 hours with him.  Then they would come home defensive and cranky and I would wonder why, and even worse get mad at them for behavior that was pretty much inevitable given what they were exposed to all day. 

Last night and this morning, Alex in particular was a different child – sweet, helpful, polite, playful.  It’s as if he understands that the situation is finally remedied and he doesn’t have to be defensive anymore.  He nicely told me he didn’t like his dinner and wasn’t going to eat it, rather than whining and getting angry.  He gave happy hugs goodbye this morning and at lunch Miss S texted me to tell me what a great day he was having, participating in lessons and songs when often he is withdrawn and quiet.

I feel so incredibly lucky today that a situation I had a hand in causing (by referring the parents there in the first place) is finally done.  I’m not living in a dream world, I know my kids will still act out and act up and argue, and that’s fine.  Because rather than coming from a place of defensiveness, it’s learning and exploring who they are within boundaries set by discipline and rules that will eventually make them productive members of our family and society.

(The speeding ticket parallel is not lost on me with that last statement by the way.  But I would still like to point out that everyone around me was going as fast or faster, and the radar was definitely faulty, and I couldn’t see the sign because trees were in the way.  Ahem. )

What I can remember is that for the second week this month, (I mean last month) I spent the better part of a week in bed, sicker than I’ve ever been. Well except for two weeks ago when I had the worst stomach flu I’ve ever had.  This time I had the worst sinus infection I’ve ever had, with so much pressure in my face I’m surprised it didn’t puff up like a blowfish before exploding.  I finally gave in to the headaches and succumbed to fever on Sunday, when I decided I was still going to be stubborn and refuse to go to the doctor until Monday since I knew I’d just get antibiotics except on Sunday they would cost me $60 more because I’d have to co-pay at a clinic instead of my doc.

Today was the first day I’ve felt less like death and well enough to discover I’ve apparently developed some sort of weird intolerance for amox!cillian since I had it the last time.  I had to actually get dressed and go to the office to give a brief, and lo and behold on the way there discovered that not only am I dizzy and spacy but that I ITCH.  EVERYWHERE.  And am also having inappropriate emotional responses…like crying because Trader Joe’s carries all natural jelly beans.  I’m sucking it up for now because I’m guessing another antibiotic won’t be any better and I’m almost half done anyway.  And the brief?  Let’s just say not the best one I’ve ever given.  Mainly because I made the poor decision while I was still spaced out to not bring any water in with me and my mouth got so dry I might as well have stuffed a slice of bread in there.

Last night, Brett and I were snorting our way through Modern Family when Alex started crying a weird, sad little cry that warranted immediate response, as this was no Mommy-I-dropped-my-book kind of cry.  I came upstairs after first responder Brett ominously yelled down the stairs, “Honey, you better come up here!” to find Alex sitting up in bed with a sleep sack hanging off his face and immediately fell down laughing. That was before I realized that he hadn’t gotten his lip stuck in the zipper, but that he’d actually gotten the zipper pull stuck between his teeth.

I sent Brett downstairs for bolt cutters and he, wisely, came back with a flashlight.  Strapping on his engineering boots, he calculated the precise angle and insertion point and was able to maneuver it back out with a minimum of pain.  As opposed to my method which was to give a little tug and be moderately surprised when it didn’t pop loose.  After administering some cold water and a gentle admonishment not to chew on zippers anymore, we snuck back downstairs and proceeded to laugh ourselves silly for about ten more minutes.

In other Alex news, he ate a cheeseburger for dinner tonight.  This HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, as indicated by the all-caps-headline-nature of the post title.  He also cleaned his plate of sweet potato fries, oranges, asked for yogurt and a cheese stick; and also a cookie.    Yay for all the comments telling me kids go through eating phases!  And also, umm…yay growth spurt?  Here I was thinking that last year’s shorts might actually work for another season instead of looking like Daisy Dukes.

Alex wasn’t even a year when he flung his head back while sitting on my lap and broke my glasses.  Even now, he gets excited and does this move I like to call pogo-ing, where he bounces around and up and down like someone on a pogo stick.  He often does this while I’m leaning in to help him zip his coat, or button his pants or tie his shoes, which means I get whacked a lot.

Emily Kate, just a few days shy of being 18 months, is showing a propensity for being the exact same way.  Just last week she cracked me in the cheekbone so hard with her head that I saw stars, then in a painful version of Groundhog day, did the exact same move the next day.

How I have not had a broken nose yet is entirely beyond my comprehension.

Anyway, it occurred to me Thursday afternoon that I should buy a few things just in case we got a few inches and I couldn’t do the regular Saturday shopping.  As is my way, I kind of meandered around Trader Joe’s throwing things I thought were necessary into my cart.

Things I bought:

• milk (a nice addition to the unopened gallon already in the fridge)
• eggs (ditto for the dozen already there)
• a pork tenderloin (no I don’t know why either)

Things I DID NOT buy that I totally should have if I were seriously planning to not go anywhere for the next 3 days:

• COFFEE ( We are out OUT of everything but decaf and may not survive another day in the house without)
• butter (necessary for everything from pancakes to cookie baking to mashed potatoes)
• salt and pepper (again, necessary for everything)
• mandarin oranges (one of the only guaranteed kids will eat it foods)

So that said, for once we actually got the worst case scenario. In fact, our street is now a solid sheet of 3 inch thick ice.  Total we got about 8 inches of snow topped with ice topped with more snow.

Day 1…waking up to white

You know it’s a good time when your pants are totally snow covered…

The snowman may not have a head but he does have a hat…

Shoveling…

Helping build the snowman…

This year was the first year that Alex was old enough to really GET the whole trick or treating thing.  We’ve spent the past few weeks reading him Halloween books and talking about going trick or treating. 

Me:  Alex, when you go trick or treating you get to ring the doorbell (I lived to rue this little bit of wisdom…)
Alex:  ?
Me:  And then when the person answers, what do you say?
Alex (singsongs):  HEEEEYYLLooooo!
Me: Yes, you say hello and then you say trick or treat!
Alex: ?
Me: And then you’ll get a piece of candy, and then say thank you.
Alex: WOOOWW!
Me:  But you have to wear your costume.
Alex:  NNNOOOO! No wanna wear a costume!

(Lessons learned for future discussions about Halloween - do not say anything about ringing the doorbell, stress that you have to OPEN your treat bag and let the person drop the candy in, you cannot pet people’s dogs that are inside the house, and you must say thank you then LEAVE.)

It was just like I remembered trick or treating, except it was 70 degrees and I was sweating trying to wrangle the kids and keep them from straying onto lawns and into the street.  I shouldn’t complain – poor Alex was melting inside of his 100% polyester beaver that I got on clearance last year. 

This is the only picture of him wearing the hood.  The hood was up for approximately 10.5 cumulative seconds.

From Halloween 2009

Emily Kate…

From Halloween 2009

Too late I remembered that I was going to try and get her to wear glasses, like the little Blind Melon girl. 

Ah well.  Probably for the best.

From Halloween 2009

We went trick or treating with a friend and her son who is 4, and also loves to ring doorbells.  Her and I spent the evening laughing as we choked out instructions from the sidewalk.

From Halloween 2009

“Only ring once!  NO ONCE!  THAT’S ENOUGH STOP RINGING THE DOORBELL!”

“OK, now say thank you!  NO TAKE YOUR HAND OUT OF THE BOWL! SAY THANK YOU!  NO MORE!  SAY GOODBYE!!”

Alex refused to put candy in his bag and instead clutched it in his fist until he couldn’t hold anymore.  At some point during the night, we lost the bumblebee headband with the deelyboppers and I was so devastated you would have thought I lost my wallet.  Yes, I did make Brett go look for them, and no he didn’t find them.

From Halloween 2009

And….we’re spent.

Today I would like to re-affirm my belief that there is very little useful information on television and state that parents who take their kids to Chuck E Cheese are morons. 

Maybe I should have been paying better attention, because now that my kids have been EXPOSED to H one n1, I cannot find answers to any of the questions that are racing through my brain.

For example, can I take a blunt object to parents who send thier kids to daycare sick?  (Recall my trauma from the summer also known as the BIGGEST MISTAKE I’VE MADE SO FAR…and yeah.  It’s them.  Of course it’s them, who else would it be?)

And once we’re exposed, is there like, a morning after pill or something that we can use to head it off?  And if not, why the hell not?

Why can’t my kid get tested for it before a fever develops?  Wouldn’t it be better to start treating it early, instead of sitting around waiting for him to get sicker and sicer then turn blue?

Why do we have to have the flu 4 days before Alex’s birthday, when not only did we score much coveted tickets to see the Imagination Movers live in concert which were NOT CHEAP, but we have grandparents visiting and plans to go to the pumpkin farm and bake a fancy cake all of which will not be the same if we have to do it another weekend?

Dang it, Doctor Lady on the Today show who’s name I can’t ever remember – DON’T TELL ME TO WASH MY FREAKING HANDS - IT’S TOO LATE FOR THAT!

Emily Kate and I so far are doing just fine.  I think because she had a flu version at the end of August, and I had the same miserable-ness Labor Day weekend.  If that was it, it sucked.  And if it wasn’t it, well then that is really unfair.  Poor Alex though, is just…gooey.  Drippy sneezes, icky coughs, stuffy nose…

But seriously, time is a wastin’ here – it is 48 hours to the Movers concert, 62 hours to grandparent arrival and 3 days to birthday.  Not to mention that work is so busy right now that I’m close to panic attack mode most days and CANNOT FATHOM how I will take off the time required to nurse a sick kid back to health, which is leading to all kinds of fun fights with Brett over whose job is more important.

When I picked up Emily Kate today I was discussing with Miss S how kids who go to a small daycare with only 3 other kids get exposed to this flu and the conversation went something like this:

me: I wonder where he would have picked it up?  I can see if he was at regular school or daycare at the gym or something but…

her: I think they take him to…whispers… Chuck E Cheese (shudders)!

me: Wow they are even bigger morons than I thought.

So yeah.  We’re sitting around.  Waiting.

I spent the summer reading parenting books and researching chemical sensitivities and food allergies – anything to find an explanation for behavior that I was sure couldn’t possibly be normal, because otherwise no one in their right mind would voluntarily sign up for this.  I cut out any food with artificial colors or flavors, started buying more organic, and behavior-wise tried following the “1-2-3 Magic” method. 

After a rough couple weeks, in which the response to everything I said was, “No, YOU say please” or No YOU stop banging” or No Don’t WANNA go live with gypsies!” Alex has come out nicely on the other side and has reached new heights of big kid-dom.  Yesterday for the first time ever, he tried a kiwi and lo and behold decided it was the best thing he’d ever tasted and proceeded to eat three of them.  Since it was green and that makes it one step away from a vegetable I kept peeling and slicing until all the kiwi was gone.

There hasn’t been one big thing, but it feels 180 degrees away from where we were a month ago, when everything led to a meltdown, when I tread lightly because just saying “no” to watching a TV program could lead to a 45-minute screamfest complete with tears and hysterics, until he would finally collapse exhausted on the floor. 

His language has always been a little behind other kids his age, and when we had him evaluated they didn’t think it was that he couldn’t talk, he just wasn’t inclined to do so.  Now for the first time, he’s starting to use complete sentences and verbalize original thoughts, instead of parrotting back whatever we tell him.  He has a shyness that I recognize, because that was and still is sometimes me…it’s a shyness that comes off as cold or disinterested but isn’t really, it’s just a way of handling a crowd of unknown people or an uncertainty about how to react in certain situations.

In fact, the very things that frustrate me about Alex are usually the same traits I share.  He will do a time-out for 45 minutes because he refuses to apologize.  He will do something specifically because he is told not to, he panics at any daycare other than his regular daily place, he will hang back rather than join the other kids at gym class.  He gets irrationally pissed off when his daily routine is disrupted – one day a few months ago, he refused to eat his lunch because Miss S forgot to ask him to get out cups for the other kids, which he does every day without fail.

In many ways he is the sweetest, most helpful child – eager to please, hopeful, and funny – quieter than his sister. but more observant.  I constantly wonder if I’m being too hard on him, or if I’m fairly dividing my time and attention between the two of them.  Usually Alex answers for me – if my attention is too long on Emily Kate I’ll hear him say, “Hi Mommy!” which is a sure sign he’s doing something he shouldn’t be, like standing on a chair or playing with my work laptop or trying to pour his own glass of juice.

He is just a few weeks shy of three.  Amazing.

From 2009_09_13

From 2009_09_13